that was going on around
them.

The captain was the first to recover from his meditations.

"Ease her! Stop her!" he cried, awaking with a yawn.

Then, glancing round at the company, his eye first caught sight of the
poet's brow crowned with laurels.

"Odds bobs, messmate!" he cried, "what the deuce have they been doing to
your figurehead?"

"Ah! captain," said one of the members, "you do not know what you have
lost. You've missed a song."

"Missed a song, have I? Well, I thought someone must have been singing;
it came in my dream. But what, in the name of Davy Jones, has Mr.
Parnassus been taking. Why, one would think he had been taking a glass
of prussic acid, to break out all over laurel leaves like that."

"That," said the chairman, "is the crown awarded to genius. Mr.
Parnassus has this evening--or, I should say, this morning--favoured us
with a poem."

"Humph!" said the captain, who was not of a poetical nature himself.

"Yes," continued the chairman, "a poem; the work of his own pure brain,
for which he has been rewarded with the crown that now adorns his
temples, a crown of no intrinsic value, as you perceive, like the
bejewelled diadem of royalty, but which, nevertheless, has been sought
after by minds no less ambitious in the early days of ancient history,
when the love of honour alone was a deeper incitement to the soul than
the mere love of worldly pelf, and when once obtained, was guarded as
zealously----"

Here our comic friend showed some signs of returning animation. He
stretched, yawned, and, rubbing his eyes, gazed round upon the company
in bewilderment. He also fixed his eyes on the laurel crown, and so
ludicrous was the expression of wonder on his countenance, although he
did not utter a word, that the whole company was thrown into an
immoderate fit of laughter, which completely drowned the end of the
chairman's sententious speech. The poor little comedian got most
unmercifully chaffed by each of the company in turn, being asked gravely
by one what his opinion was of the last story; by another, whether he
liked the punch--whether it was strong enough for him. By another wag he
was offered a penny for his thoughts; while another insisted upon
hearing the story he had been thinking of all that time, etc., etc. The
little man answered good-humouredly to all their bantering, when the
president once more thumped the table.

"Captain Toughyarn," he began, "you have been guilty at our meeting