Me and a cab'net-maker has dewised a plan for gettin' him out. 'A pianner, Samivel, a pianner,' said Mr. Weller, striking his son on the chest with the back of his hand, and falling back a step or two. 'Wot do you mean?' said Sam. 'A pianner-forty, Samivel,' rejoined Mr. Weller, in a still more mysterious manner, 'as he can have on hire; vun as von't play, Sammy.' 'And wot 'ud be the good of that?' said Sam. 'There ain't no vurks in it,' whispered his father. 'It 'ull hold him easy, vith his hat and shoes on; and breathe through the legs, vich is holler.' But the usually dutiful Sam showed so little enthusiasm for his father's scheme that nothing more was heard of it. CHAPTER III VARIOUS INSTRUMENTS FLUTE, ORGAN, GUITAR (AND SOME HUMMERS) _Flute_ We find several references to the flute, and Dickens contrives to get much innocent fun out of it. First comes Mr. Mell, who used to carry his instrument about with him and who, in response to his mother's invitation to 'have a blow at it' while David Copperfield was having his breakfast, made, said David, 'the most dismal sounds I have ever heard produced by any means, natural or artificial.' After he had finished he unscrewed his flute into three pieces, and deposited them underneath the skirts of his coat. Dickens' schoolmasters seem to have been partial to the flute. Mr. Squeers, it is true, was not a flautist, but Mr. Feeder, B.A., was, or rather he was going to be. When little Paul Dombey visited his tutor's room he saw 'a flute which Mr. Feeder couldn't play yet, but was going to make a point of learning, he said, hanging up over the fireplace.' He also had a beautiful little curly second-hand 'key bugle,' which was also on the list of things to be accomplished on some future occasion, in fact he has unlimited confidence in the power and influence of music. Here is his advice to the love-stricken Mr. Toots, whom he recommends to learn the guitar, or at least the flute; for women like music when you are paying your addresses to 'em, and he has found the advantage of it himself. The flute was the instrument that Mr. Richard Swiveller took to when he heard that Sophy Wackles was lost to him for ever, thinking that it was a good, sound, dismal occupation, not only in unison with his own sad thoughts, but calculated to awaken a fellow feeling in the bosoms of his neighbours. So he got out his flute, arranged the light and a small oblong music-book to the best advantage, and began to play 'most mournfully.' The air was 'Away with Melancholy,' a composition which, when it is played very slowly on the flute, in bed, with the further disadvantage of being performed by a gentleman but imperfectly acquainted with the instrument, who repeats one note a great many times before he can find the next, has not a lively effect.