--f To CARIBOO AND BACK }-

“T’m Captain Jinks of the Horse Marines,” and
“Shoo Fly!’ were favorites, and so were the
old plantation songs with swinging choruses
in which every one could join. Solos would be
called for. The tailor was always willing to
oblige with “John Nott, he Lived at Ludgate
Hill” and he sang it so often that he came to be
known by the name of John Nott. Arthur Jane_
could melt all their hearts with “‘The Last Rose
of “Summer” or ‘“‘The Old Oaken Chest.” Even
Mary Mulligan would sometimes be coaxed into
singing ‘Erin Go Bragh,” in her melodious,
tremulous contralto.

But it was always Mary who began the
hymns with which the nightly concert ended,
hymns that made such grand music in the
darkness of dwindling fires and sent them all to
bed with a renewed feeling of hope and con-
fidence for the morrow.

When all the other songs were ended Betty
as usual asked for her particular choice.

‘“Let’s sing about pitching our tents,”’ she
said.

By this time all knew the words of Betty’s
favorite hymn and could join in heartily:

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