y are such nice cheery entertainments, so much life, such a great
deal of energy about them! You are called on by four separate people
to take tickets. In desperation you have to yield at last; paying
extra for having your seat reserved, or else you must start
half-an-hour beforehand, and scramble in with the crowd. There is
generally a series of them too, and you are obliged to go to them all.
They are so considerate, these concert-makers, they would not allow
you to miss one for worlds.

There is a great deal of novelty and variety about the artists
themselves. All the musical members in the neighborhood are routed
out, and each is persuaded to contribute to the public pleasure--by
the way, there is never very much persuasion needed. It is such a
treat to listen to people you know, and whom you have heard perform
dozens and dozens of times before in every drawing-room in the place.
At least, you know what to expect. You recognize each song, each
piece. You wait in suspense until Miss. Brown has passed her high
A--always half a tone too flat. You take it as a matter of course that
Mr. Black--the first violinist in the place--after tuning up for ten
minutes, will break a string directly he begins to play. I should have
thought he would be pretty well used to it by now, but he never gets
in tune again for the rest of the evening. You would be quite
disappointed if Mrs. Green ever concluded her most finished and
spirited pianoforte solo on the right chord.

These concerts always begin with a pianoforte solo, and the performers
ought to feel very flattered at the way in which they are received.
We, the audience, regard them no more than we do the mounted policemen
in the Lord Mayor's Show. They are not part of the procession. They
are only meant to clear the way and let us know that the concert is
going to begin, and then we must leave off our chatter. Naturally, we
make the most of our time, and try to get all our talking done at
once. In fact, we are so taken up with what we are saying that we
actually forget to applaud when the performance is over.

After the introduction in this form, the chief moving spirit of the
entertainment comes forward, and, after bowing right and left,
stammers out (the chief moving spirit is never a good speaker) that he
much regrets that, on account of Mr. Jones, Mr. Smith, and Miss. Blank
having been prevented by illness from turning up, he is afraid there
will be a little change in the p