ot so fortunate in receiving an encore, though. It
depends on how well they are known, not on their desserts.
The newcomer in the neighborhood tries her hardest and does her best,
but as we have never seen her before we scarcely take the trouble to
applaud her, which must be rather disappointing, especially when her
mother is sitting among the audience with the encore song on her lap,
ready to hand it up.

The best exhibition of all is made by the flutist. He is the only one
who plays that instrument for miles round, and so the swagger with
which he steps on to the platform is perhaps excusable.

How anyone _can_ play it I do not know. It is such a singularly
unbecoming instrument. But the wretched owner never seems to think so.
When he once commences he gives us a good dose of it. We begin to
think he is going on all night. Suddenly there comes a pause, and
applause is started at once, we being only too delighted to make a
little noise on our own account. But no--it is a mistake, a delusion,
after all. The pause was only an interval between an Andante and a
Scherzo; and, with a bland smile at his ovation, on he goes again for
another quarter of an hour. We--the audience--are disappointed, we
feel we have been tricked, and we therefore sulk for a season. But the
Scherzo is so long, it gives us time to get over our ill-humor, though
we are mutually resolved that we will not have him back again. Vain
hope! From the far end of the room comes thundering applause, which
never dies away until the talented flutist appears on the platform
again. We find out afterwards that he treats the whole of his
establishment to the cheap seats; so, of course, poor things, we
cannot blame them. They are only earning their wages. Perhaps they are
presented with an extra shilling each when their master returns home.

It is a curious thing how we all like applauding and making a noise.
If you notice, at organ recitals in the Church we feel quite
uncomfortable. We think we ought to do something at the conclusion of
the pieces; so, as we may not clap our hands, we all give a little
rustle and cough. This is to show our approbation. _Every_one coughs.
It is astonishing how many people have bad colds. For my part I think
it is a pity applause is not allowed. It is infinitely preferable to
the coughing at any rate.

Of course the comic singer goes down best. He is called back three,
sometimes four times. The schoolboys behind grow excited, and