“Ah! you are right as to that. Give me Moore and Burns above all others. I often steal away when at home and weep over the sweet sentimental songs of those favorite poets.”
“Shakespeare is my poet. Speaking of sentiment, it gushes up on every page, and streams from every line. Rosalind, Imogene, Juliet, Romeo, Orlando and Hamlet—all are made to utter the most soul-stirring, heart-melting sentiment. But enough about poetry; take my arm and let us go on deck and enjoy the scenery.”
As soon as they reached the upper deck, George III. came up with a look of mystery on his countenance.
“Good morning. I was wanting to speak a few words with you. Perhaps you have heard of my great mishap?”
“No! what is it?”
“My watch was stolen from my pocket within the last thirty minutes.”
“Ah, ha!” exclaimed Scottie, “I told you so. The whirlwind has started, and a tornado will wind up the scene.”
“Have you any idea who was the thief?”
“Yes; but my suspicions may not be well founded.”
“May I know whom you suspect?” inquired Ivanhoe.