greet
him with a whistle that would do credit to the "gods." This is too
much for decently-clad minds, anything so profane as that whistle. The
clergyman, who is in the chair (the proceeds are always to be devoted
to some charitable object), rises and insists "that if that most
objectionable noise does not cease, the boys will have to be turned
out."

Where the "objectionable" comes in I cannot think. The boys are very
clever to be able to do it. I have often tried it, and cannot succeed,
and so conclude it must be a difficult accomplishment. They stick
about four fingers in their mouths, and thereby make quite a different
sound to any ordinary whistle. However, it is no wonder the chairman
discourages it. When he was reading a few minutes before, reading out
some dry little tale with a moral, in which the humorous parts were
the heaviest, no encore whistle was accorded him. He was clapped
loudly, of course--is he not one of the chief men in the parish? But
no one wished to hear him read again, so we stopped our applause just
in time to prevent him from re-appearing.

We go home glad at heart, and two mornings later read an account of
the evening's performance in the local paper.

We find there a few statements which agree with our own feelings.
They say that "Mr. Jones sang in a pure and cultured manner, and
deserves special attention for his sweet tenor voice and the
refinement of the sentiment in his songs" (whatever that may mean!)
"Mr. Smith played two violin solos with remarkable precision of touch
and with the greatest ease;" while "Miss. Blank, with a good contralto,
was all that could be desired in both her songs!" They were none of
them there, but that does not matter. They were praised up more than
anyone else, which must be very discouraging to those who _did_
perform. But on account of their non-appearance alone we feel they
deserve some approbation, and so do not grudge it them. It is of no
consequence to a newspaper reporter who is there and who is not. He
takes the programme, ticks off the names, and writes his remarks and
criticisms just as he likes. It would be wiser, all the same, on his
part, if he found out the absentees, for otherwise his little hints
rather lose their effect.

He writes that this one wants a little "animation," that one "sings
out of tune." Miss So-and-So plays the piano "with faultless
manipulation, the only drawback being a slight preponderance of
pedal," and so on. He gen