father, _legs_ are _legs_, when you tumble into six foot of
mud. How you would have _dibbled_ down, if your _daddles_ hadn't held
on."

"Well then, Tom, recollect that you never _sell_ your father for a
_lark_ again."

Tom laughed, and catching at the word, although used in a different
sense, sung--

"Just like the _lark_ high poised in air.

"And so were you, father, only you didn't sing as he does, and you
didn't leave your young one below in the nest."

"Ay, it is the young uns which prevent the old ones from rising in the
world--that's very true, Tom. Holla, who have we got here? My service
to you, at all events."

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN.

THE ART OF HARD LYING MADE EASY, THOUGH I AM MADE VERY UNEASY BY HARD
LYING--I SEND MY RULER AS A MISSIVE, TO LET THE PARTIES CONCERNED KNOW
THAT I AM A REBEL TO TYRANNICAL RULE--I AM ARRAIGNED, TRIED, AND
CONDEMNED WITHOUT A HEARING--WHAT I LOSE IN SPEECH IS MADE UP IN
FEELING, THE WHOLE WOUND UP WITH MAGNANIMOUS RESOLVES, AND A LITTLE
SOBBING.

It was the captain of the American schooner, from out of which we were
then taking the casks of flour.

"We've no _sarvice_ in our country, I've a notion, my old bobtail
roarer," said he. "When do you come alongside of my schooner, for
tother lading with this raft of yours? Not to-night, I guess."

"Well, you've guessed right this time," replied old Tom; "we shall lie
on the mud till to-morrow morning, with your permission."

"Yes, for all the world like a Louisiana alligator. You take things
coolly, I've a notion, in the old country. I don't want to be hanging
head and starn in this little bit of a river of your'n. I must be back
to New York afore fever time."

"She be a pretty craft, that little thing of yours," observed old Tom;
"how long may she take to make the run?"

"How long? I expect in just no time; and she'd go as fast again, only
she won't wait for the breeze to come up with her."

"Why don't you heave-to for it?" said young Tom.

"Lose too much time, I guess. I have been chased by an easterly wind
all the way from your Land's End to our Narrows, and it never could
overhaul me."

"And I presume the porpoises give it up in despair, don't they?" replied
old Tom, with a leer; "and yet I've seen the creatures playing across
the bows of an English frigate at her speed, and laughing at her."

"They never play their tricks with me, old snapper; if they do, I cuts
them in halves, and a-starn they go, h