at it doesn't make any noise," persisted Davy.

"Of course it doesn't," said Robinson. "That's because I load it with
tooth-powder."

"But I don't see what you can shoot with it," said Davy, feeling that he
was somehow getting the worst of the argument.

Robinson stood gazing thoughtfully at him for a moment, while the big
bullet rolled out of the gun with a rumbling sound and fell into the
sea. "I see what you want," he said, at length. "You're after my
personal history. Just take a seat in the family circle and I'll give it
to you."

Davy looked around and saw that the dog, the goat, and the cat were
seated respectfully in a semicircle, with the parrot, which had
dismounted, sitting beside the dog. He seated himself on the sand at the
other end of the line, and Robinson began as follows:--

_The night was thick and hazy
When the "Piccadilly Daisy"
Carried down the crew and captain in the sea;
And I think the water drowned 'em;
For they never, never found 'em,
And I know they didn't come ashore with me._

_Oh! 'twas very sad and lonely
When I found myself the only
Population on this cultivated shore;
But I've made a little tavern
In a rocky little cavern,
And I sit and watch for people at the door._

_I spent no time in looking
For a girl to do my cooking,
As I'm quite a clever hand at making stews
But I had that fellow Friday,
Just to keep the tavern tidy,
And to put a Sunday polish on my shoes._

_I have a little garden
That I'm cultivating lard in,
As the things I eat are rather tough and dry;
For I live on toasted lizards,
Prickly pears, and parrot gizzards,
And I'm really very fond of beetle-pie._

_The clothes I had were furry,
And it made me fret and worry
When I found the moths were eating off the hair;
And I had to scrape and sand 'em,
And I boiled 'em and I tanned 'em,
Till I got the fine morocco suit I wear._

_I sometimes seek diversion
In a family excursion
With the few domestic animals you see;
And we take along a carrot
As refreshment for the parrot,
And a little can of jungleberry tea._

_Then we gather, as we travel,
Bits of moss and dirty gravel,
And we chip off little specimens of stone;
And we carry home as prizes
Funny bugs, of handy sizes,
Just to