The first two sets of the evening were received with every token of approval by the audience: the songs were “The Village Blacksmith” and Pinsuti's “Night Watch”; and then the charming young lady in mid Victorian dress, and with a wreath of pink roses on her dark hair, posed on the daïs against a suitable background. The signal was given to the tenor, who was seated at the piano behind the curtain. He struck a few chords and began in excellent style. “Here a sheer hulk lies poor Tom Bowling.” He had actually got to the end of the first stanza before it dawned upon any responsible person that this was not the “Wreath of Roses,” and before he could be arrested he had declared that “Faithful below he did his du-i-ty, And now-ow he's gaw-aw-en aloft.” Up went the curtain, revealing a refreshing picture of the pretty girl in the muslin dress and the pink wreath, and after the usual interval for applause the curtain fell. Never had the applause been louder: it caused the members of the Committee who were preparing to strangle the singer to lose their heads completely, and the singer was well through the second stanza before they recovered themselves sufficiently to perceive that it was now too late to do anything, and he went on complacently to say that “Tom never from his word departed----” and so on through the simple, pathetic stanza; and then the curtain rose and showed the charming young lady in white satin among her bridesmaids at the door of the church, and once again the applause was rapturous. “Heavens above! what do the fools mean by applauding?” whispered the chairman of the Committee. “Let them go on if they please,” said some one. “They think that this is Tom Bowling's bride--his fidelity is rewarded, that's the moral illustrated. 'Tom never from his word departed'--there you are, you see. 'His heart was kind and soft,' and the combined virtues have their reward--_vide tableau._” Then those of the Committee who had some sense of humour hastened into the anteroom to roar with laughter. They were still so engaged when the curtain rose for the third and last time, showing poor Tom Bowling's widow in appropriate garments. Having heard three times that Tom had gone aloft, it would have been ridiculous if any less pathetic scene had been shown to the audience. The decent interval that elapsed before the applause came showed how deeply affected was the audience. But the singer at the piano was pounced upon by the Committee and prevented from going on with his song. He protested that he had only sung three verses, and that he was bound to finish it; but the Committee were firm. Not another note would they let him sing, and he retired hurt. He was questioned in the anteroom as to how on earth he came to sing “Tom Bowling” when Mr. Stamford must have told him that his song was to be “She wore a Wreath of Roses.” Did not Mr. Stamford tell him that? he was asked.