e's head under it.

"This is a free country, sir," said the Sergeant, "no man here is
kidnapped into the Army, which is a profession for men, not slaves."

"I'm going to join," said Harry, "say what you like."

"Wait till the morning;" said the Sergeant, "and meanwhile we'll have a
song."

At this moment Mr. Bumpkin put in an appearance; for although he had been
enjoying himself with Mr. and Mrs. Oldtimes, he thought it prudent to
have a peep and see how "thic Joe wur gettin on."

CHAPTER XX.

Mr. Bumpkin sings a good old song--the Sergeant becomes quite a convivial
companion and plays dominoes.

The Sergeant, having finished his repast, again had recourse to his pipe,
and was proceeding to light it when Mr. Bumpkin appeared in the room.

"We be gwine to have a song, maister," said Joe.

"Give us a song, governor," said half-a-dozen voices.

"Ay, do, maister," says Joe; "thee sings a good un, I knows, for I ha
eerd thee often enough at arvest oames: gie us a song, maister."

Now if there was one thing Mr. Bumpkin thought he was really great at
besides ploughing the straightest and levellest furrow, it was singing
the longest and levellest song. He had been known to sing one, which,
with its choruses, had lasted a full half hour, and then had broken down
for lack of memory.

On the present occasion he would have exhibited no reluctance, having had
a glass or two in the Bar Parlour had he not possessed those misgivings
about the Sergeant. He looked furtively at that officer as though it
were better to give him no chance. Seeing, however, that he was smoking
quietly, and almost in a forlorn manner by himself, his apprehensions
became less oppressive.

Invitations were repeated again and again, and with such friendly
vehemence that resistance at last was out of the question.

"I aint sung for a good while," said he, "but I wunt be disagreeable
like, so here goes."

But before he could start there was such a thundering on the tables that
several minutes elapsed. At length there was sufficient silence to
enable him to be heard.

"This is Church and Crown, lads."

"Gie me the man as loves the Squire,
The Parson, and the Beak;
And labours twelve good hours a day
For thirteen bob a week!"

"Hooroar! hooroar! hooroar!" shouted Lazyman. "What d'ye think 'o that?"

"O, my eye," said Outofwork, "aint it jolly?"

"Well done! bravo!" shrieked the Boardman. "I'll carry that ere man
t