After a brief pause, Hester invited a gentleman prepared for the
occasion to sing them something patriotic. He responded with Campbell's
magnificent song, "Ye Mariners of England!" which was received with
hearty cheers.
He was followed by another who, well acquainted with the predilections
of his audience, gave them a specially sentimental song about a chair,
which was not only heard in silence but followed by tremendous cheering.
Possibly it was a luxury to some who had no longer any grandfather to
kick, to cry over his chair; but, like the most part of their brethren,
the poor greatly enjoy having their feelings gently troubled.
Thus the muse of the occasion was gradually sinking to the intellectual
level of the company--with a consequence unforeseen, therefore not
provided against.
CHAPTER XVIII.
CATASTROPHE.
For the tail of the music-kite--the car of the music-balloon rather,
having thus descended near enough to the earth to be a temptation to
some of the walkers afoot, they must catch at it! The moment the
last-mentioned song was ended, almost before its death-note had left the
lips of the singer, one of the friends' friends was on his feet. Without
a word of apology, without the shadow of a request for permission, he
called out in a loud voice, knocking with his chair on the floor,
"Ladies an' gen'lemen, Mr. William Blaney will now favor the company
with a song."
Thereupon immediately a pale pock-marked man, of diminutive height, with
high retreating forehead, and long thin hair, rose, and at once
proceeded to make his way through the crowd: he would sing from the
stage, of course! Hester and Vavasor looked at each other, and one
whisper passed between them, after which they waited the result in
silence. The countenance approaching, kindled by conscious power and
anticipated triumph, showed a white glow through its unblushing
paleness. After the singing one sometimes hears in drawing-rooms, there
is little space for surprise that some of less education should think
themselves more capable of fine things than they are.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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