North, away yonder--you'll hear him tune up in a minute--is Tom Platt.

Man-o'-war's man he was on the old Ohio--first of our navy, he says, to go araound the Horn.

He never talks of much else, 'cept when he sings, but be has fair fishin' luck.
There! What did I tell you ?" A melodious bellow stole across the water from the northern dory.
Harvey heard something about somebody's hands and feet being cold, and then: "Bring forth the chart, the doleful chart; See where them mountings meet! The clouds are thick around their heads, The mists around their feet." "Full boat," said Dan, with a chuckle.

"If he gives us 'O Captain' it's toppin' full." The bellow continued: "And naow to thee, O Capting, Most earnestly I pray That they shall never bury me In church or cloister grey." "Double game for Tom Platt.

He'll tell you all about the old Ohio to-morrow.