mbkin, with his mustache curled and waxed up and all
white too, was dancin' as nimble as a boy. This fiddler was playin'
somethin' awful devilish and quick, and the rest was pattin' their hands
and feet while the old feller was dancin'. He was dressed in a fine,
tight fittin' coat and had on varnished shoes, and a panama hat with a
string buttoned into his lapel so his hat wouldn't blow away; and a
diamond in his necktie, and one on his hand that I could see glitter as
he danced.

We got up closer, and the captain saw us and said: "Come over here now
and do a jig--come on."

The fiddler stopped playin' and looked around. It was John Armstrong.
First he looked at me, then he looked down at the floor, kind a funny
like, and then he raised his eyes and looked at us again. We just stood
there, not knowin' what to do. Then John said: "Wal, boys, when did you
come?"

[Illustration: And There Sat a Lot of Men]

The captain said, "Do you know them kids, John?" John says: "Come over
here, boys, and I'll introduce you to the captain." We walked over. John
said: "This here is preacher Miller's boy over at Petersburg. And this
here is the son of States Attorney Kirby. You know Hardy Kirby." The
captain said "Yes." John went on, "Of course you do." And then the
captain says: "I hired 'em to peel potatoes; they're goin' to St. Louis
with me." "Is that so?" said John. "Well, they're good boys, and of
course you'll fotch 'em back when you get through with 'em." "I don't
know," says the captain, "I may sell 'em in St. Louis--or adopt 'em. I
ain't got no boys of my own, and if they prove all right, good workers,
I may keep 'em for good." John laughed. Kept laughin' at everything that
was said. And finally they drank more beer and all talked together; and
the old feller that was dancin' sat down, lit a fine cigar, and began to
tell about New York. It turned out he was the fish commissioner and
lived in Havaner; but he had traveled everywhere and was a regular
gentleman. And finally he says to the captain--"Sing the 'Missouri
Harmony.'" "I will," says the captain, "if John'll play the tune." So
John played it and the captain sang.

I forgot to say that I can't remember nothin', or commit anything to
memory. But I never see such a boy as Mitch. He could learn anything,
and that's how I happen to write these songs down here. He wrote 'em out
for me afterwards and handed 'em to me. Well, this is what the captain
sang:

When in de