The confusion our last evening on shore produced in my brain was such that every effort I made to remember anything about it only increased my difficulty, and I felt myself in a web so tangled and inextricable that all endeavor to escape free was impossible. Sometimes I thought that I had really married Matilda Dalrymple; then, I supposed that the father had called me out, and wounded me in a duel; and finally, I had some confused notion about a quarrel with Sparks, but what for, when, and how it ended, I knew not. How tremendously tipsy I must have been! was the only conclusion I could draw from all these conflicting doubts; and after all, it was the only thing like fact that beamed upon my mind. How I had come on board and reached my berth was a matter I reserved for future inquiry, resolving that about the real history of my last night on shore I would ask no questions, if others were equally disposed to let it pass in silence.
I next began to wonder if Mike had looked after all my luggage, trunks, etc., and whether he himself had been forgotten in our hasty departure. About this latter point I was not destined for much doubt; for a well-known voice, from the foot of the companion-ladder, at once proclaimed my faithful follower, and evidenced his feelings at his departure from his home and country.
Mr. Free was, at the time I mention, gathered up like a ball opposite a small, low window that looked upon the bluff headlands now fast becoming dim and misty as the night approached. He was apparently in low spirits, and hummed in a species of low, droning voice, the following ballad, at the end of each verse of which came an Irish chorus which, to the erudite in such matters, will suggest the air of Moddirederoo:--
Then fare ye well, ould Erin dear; To part, my heart does ache well: From Carrickfergus to Cape Clear, I'll never see your equal. And though to foreign parts we're bound, Where cannibals may ate us, We'll ne'er forget the holy ground Of potteen and potatoes. Moddirederoo aroo, aroo, etc.
When good Saint Patrick banished frogs, And shook them from his garment, He never thought we'd go abroad, To live upon such varmint; Nor quit the land where whiskey grew To wear King George's button, Take vinegar for mountain dew, And toads for mountain mutton. Moddirederoo aroo, aroo, etc.