166 ISLES OF SUMMER. 
- Instantly, upon his giving utterance to the last word of the 
last line, a lady added as a refrain or snapper,—‘‘my mudder !” 
borrowing it from a tenderly filial poem which little Sankey 
sometimes gave us, standing in a chair in the court of the hotel. 
It would have brought down the house had there been one. 
This caused the crank of another mill to revolve, and the fol- 
lowing stanza was thereupon ground out: 
Who learned us all this much to tell, 
While sailing in the gay Gazelle, 
And o’er us came this magic spell? 
My mudder. 
After the laughter and applause had sufficiently subsided, a 
third stanza was added by still another of our happy group, ¢ as 
our yacht glided before the wind. 
To landsmen all we say, farewell! 
Your troubled hearts you now may quell, 
With Capt. Amos all is well; 
My mudder. 
A lady contributed in aie the following, which was read ty 
the keeper of the Log: 
A POEM. Cayro I. 
It was in breezy, blustering March 
That we, a jolly crew, 
Went sailing in the gay Gazelle 
Upon the waters blue. 
To be continued. 
This literary gem was deemed all that could be expected in 
such a climate as the result of mill work for one forenoon. 
