"And then the music!" said Rose. "I think, mamma, they must be laughing at us when they admire our singing. If you could but have heard that duet of Piccolomini and Giuglini's, I wonder what you would have said. It quite took away my breath."
"Oh, I know the sort of thing," said Captain Hopkinson, "I used to go to the Opera at Lisbon, and such a quavering, and shaking, and screaming, with great loud crashes of the orchestra at the end, enough to deafen you. When I went on board again and heard John Leary, one of our best mizen-top-men, sing "Home, sweet home," the rest of the watch joining in the chorus, I thought that was music, the other was only noise."
"John Leary—he has sailed with you several times, my dear," said Mrs. Hopkinson, who was divided in mind between the 'Alacrity' and St. Maur House, "he has a sweet voice; and his wife has had twins while he was away. But I dare say Pico—what's his name—is he a man or a woman?—sings very well too. One of the twins is called
