personage "Old Stormy," the rising and falling cadences of which, as they swept over the Bay on the breeze, I was never tired of listening to. It may amuse some of my readers to give here a few stanzas of this and some other of these chants . " Stormy" is supposed to have died, and the first song begins: Old Stormy, he is dead and gone, Chorus?Carry him along, boys, carry him along, Oh! carry him to his long home, Chorus?Carry him to the burying-ground. Oh! ye who dig Old Stormy's grave, Chorus?Carry him along, boys, carry him along, Dig it deep and bury him safe, Chorus?Carry him to the burying-ground. Lower him down with a golden chain, Chorus?Carry him along, boys, carry him along, Then he'll never rise again, Chorus?Carry him to the burying-ground. Grand Chorus?Way-oh-way-oh-way?storm along, Way?you rolling crew, storm along stormy. And so on ad infinitum, or more properly speaking, till the screw is run out. There was another in praise of Dollars, commencing thus: These samples, which might be continued to an almost indefinite extent, will give the reader an idea of what capstan and cotton songs, or chants , are. The tunes are the best portion, of course, in all such rude performances. But these are only to be heard on board ship. The men who yearly resort to Mobile Bay to screw cotton, are, as may be imagined, a rough set. They are mostly English and Irish sailors, who, leaving their vessels here,