me. I don't know one
tune from another."

The young fiddler played one of the popular airs of the day. He did not
undertake to sing, for the atmosphere was so bad that he could hardly
avoid coughing. He was anxious to get out into the street, but he did
not wish to refuse playing. When he had finished his tune, one of
those present, a sailor, cried, "That's good. Step up, boys, and have a
drink."

The invitation was readily accepted by all except Phil. Noticing that
the boy kept his place, the sailor said, "Step up, boy, and wet your
whistle."

Phil liked the weak wines of his native land, but he did not care for
the poisonous decoctions of be found in such places.

"I am not thirsty," he said.

"Yes, you are; here, give this boy a glass of brandy."

"I do not want it," said Phil.

"You won't drink with us," exclaimed the sailor, who had then enough to
be quarrelsome. "Then I'll make you;" and he brought down his fist so
heavily upon the counter as to make the glasses rattle. "Then I'll make
you. Here, give me a glass, and I'll pour it down his throat."

The fiddler was frightened at his vehemence, and darted to the door. But
the sailor was too quick for him. Overtaking Phil, he dragged him
back with a rough grasp, and held out his hand for the glass. But an
unexpected friend now turned up.

"Oh, let the boy go, Jack," said a fellow sailor. "If he don't want to
drink, don't force him."

But his persecutor was made ugly by his potations, and swore that Phil
should drink before he left the barroom.

"That he shall not," said his new friend.

"Who is to prevent it?" demanded Jack, fiercely.

"I will."

"Then I'll pour a glass down your throat, too," returned Jack,
menacingly.

"No need of that. I am ready enough to drink. But the boy shan't drink,
if he don't want to."

"He shall!" retorted the first sailor, with an oath.

Still holding Phil by the shoulder with one hand, with the other he took
a glass which had just been filled with brandy; he was about to pour it
down his throat, when the glass was suddenly dashed from his hand and
broke upon the floor.

With a fresh oath Jack released his hold on Phil, and, maddened with
rage, threw himself upon the other. Instantly there was a general melee.
Phil did not wait to see the result. He ran to the door, and, emerging
into the street, ran away till he had placed a considerable distance
between himself and the disorderly and drunken party in the barroo