make him out. I
told the facts to the Capting, and Willie, he j'ined in, and said it war
blessed Gospel truth. But the Capting's wind was clean out of his sails.
I set him a steamer-chair, and Willie fanned him with a newspaper before
he fairly come to. "Lord," says I, "Capting, what's the odds _how_ you
git out of this, s'long 's you only git out?" which I hold to be a
pretty good p'int.

We were pulled clear out of the Saragossa Sea, and the wind sprang up,
and we made port in a week arter.

_Victoria_. Did Father Neptune let go the hawser?

_Uncle Jake_. No, miss. Ye see, I had forgot to tell him we was bound
south, and nachelly he bein' headed for the Sea-side Home, was a-goin'
north. We cut the hawser. But I'll never forgit the good turn he did us.

_Ida_. My brother's name is Willie. He is a sailor.

_Uncle Jake_. What's his last name?

_Ida_. Willie Moore.

_Uncle Jake_. Bless my soul, if that warn't the identical chap.

_Ida_. But my brother's first voyage was on the _Porpoise_. She sailed
to the West Indies.

_Uncle Jake_. It _war_ the _Porpoise_. Beats all, how my memory fails.
The _Blue Turquoise_ war the next ship I sailed in.

_Ida_. Willie never spoke of that adventure at home, Captain Jake.

_Captain Jake_. Ask him, ask him. 'Mind him of the Saragossa Sea, and
how the _Blue_--I mean the _Porpoise_--war tugged. He'll recollect.
Mention Miss Lorelei with her golding hair. But good-day, young ladies.
Pleased to meet ye again.

_All_. Good-day, Captain Jake.

_Miss Sommerfield_. And many thanks for your pretty tale.

[_Exit_ Captain Jake.]

_Miss James_. I fear that old man does not always speak the truth.
Neptune is a pure myth.

_Helen_. Like the Gulf Stream.

_Miss James_. And I seriously doubt, Miss Moore, if that was your
brother Willie.

_Ida_. Don't you worry.

_Charlotte_. I see Madge has found the old lyric mamma loves. Read it,
Madge, two lines at a time, and we will sing it to the tune of "What
fairylike music steals over the sea."[1]

"What fairylike music steals over the sea,
Entrancing the senses with charm'd melody?
'Tis the voice of the mermaid, that floats o'er the main,
As she mingles her song with the gondolier's strain.
'Tis the voice of the mermaid, that floats o'er the main,
As she mingles her song with the gondolier's strain."

[Madge _reads, and the others sing_.]

When we have the entertainment, we'll let this be the last thing