Accordingly he commanded that the Box should return to the first tune of all--and lo! this had become an abomination unto his ears, nor could he conceive how he had ever been able to endure it!
So the Musical Box was laid upon the shelf, and the Owner procured for himself a cheap mouth-organ which could play any air that was suggested to it, and thus became an established favourite.
_Note._--This is apparently designed to illustrate the ficklety of the Musical Character.--H. B. J.
"_Do_ come in!" snapped the severed Shark's Head to the Ship's Cat. "As you perceive, I am carrying on business as usual during the alterations."
The Bulbul had no sooner finished her song than the Bullfrog began to make profuse apologies for having left his music at home.
To a Butterscotch Machine the Penny and the Tin Disc are alike.
_Note._--Surely not if an official is looking on!--H. B. J.
"My dears," said the Converted Cannibal reverently to his Wife and Family, as they sat down to their Baked Missionary, "do not let us omit to ask a blessing!"
There is but one Singer whom it is futile to encore--and that is a Dying Swan.
"I am doing a series of 'Notable Nests' for 'Sylvan Society,'" said the insinuating Serpent, on finding the Ringdove at home, "and I should so much like to include _you_." "You are very kind," said the Ringdove, in a flutter, "but I can assure you that there is no more in my poor little eggs than in any other bird's!" "That may be," replied the Serpent, "but I must live _somehow_!"
"No outsiders there--only just their own particular set!" said the Cocksparrow, when he came home after having been to tea with the Birds of Paradise.
The Elephant was dying of starvation, and a kind-hearted person presented him with an acidulated drop.
_Note._--It is well-nigh incredible that any Philosopher should be so ignorant of Natural History as to imagine that any Elephant would accept an acid drop, even if it was on its last legs for want of nutrition.
The conclusion of this anecdote would seem to be either lost, or unfit for publication.--H. B. J.
There was once a famous Violinist who serenaded his Mistress every evening, performing the most divine melodies upon his instrument.
But all the while she was straining her ears to listen to a piano-organ round the corner which was playing "Good-bye, Dolly Gray!"