When good King Arthur ruled this land, He was a goodly king. He stole three pecks of barley meal, To make a bag-pudding.
A bag-pudding the Queen did make, And stuffed it well with plums, And in it put great lumps of fat, As big as my two thumbs.
The King and Queen did eat thereof, And noblemen beside, And what they could not eat that night, The Queen next morning fried.
"Can anything more clearly indicate a low moral sentiment than the existence, and acknowledged popularity of this song? Fellow citizens (carried away by the tide of eloquence the Statesman forgot to say shipmates) and you, sir, whose alien friendship I am proud to own, although the unfortunate accident of a foreign birth (for which I cannot blame you,) opens a chasm between us--fellow citizens, I have done. My native land is behind me. I now appeal for protection to the Queen of England, and for the time being repudiate the American Eagle--though with all his faults I love him still."
Amid thunders of applause the Vice jumped down and inquired why luncheon was not ready.
After an hour's rest and refreshment in a sheltered nook, the squadron proceeded on its way under paddle, the wind having died out, making for a heavily wooded island visible several miles distant, on which it was surmised there would be good camping ground. Islands indeed proved to be the most satisfactory camping places that were found during the expedition, and were invariably selected when practicable.
The squadron paddled socially along, side by side, until the Cook stopped his stroke and fell behind. As he seemed to be engaged in making some not very satisfactory arrangement of his luggage, the Commodore ranged alongside and asked what was the matter.
"I can't fix my seat so as to be comfortable."
"Why this way," and the Commodore, vacated his seat, turning round and sitting on his forward thwart, so as to afford an unobstructed view. The two other canoes had now drawn near.
"Look at that," said the Vice. "He can stand up and turn round without upsetting in that old tub of his."
"So can I," said the Cook, suiting the action to the word.
"So cannot we," said the Purser, and the Vice. "But what are you looking at?"
It is a characteristic of Chrysalid canoeists that they never notice anything outside of their own boats until they bring up all standing, as it were, against it. Hence the Commodore's seat was a novelty to them, and they gazed upon it with mute admiration.