erally has as good an ear for music as a
parish priest who only knew two tunes: one of which was "God save the
Queen," and the other wasn't. And once, when a brass band was playing
a selection outside the vicarage, he went on to his balcony, hat in
hand, and waved it vigorously as he commenced to sing the first line
of "God save the Queen."

Well, it does not matter after all. The only object is to appear
learned, and to use long words. If the artists do not like being
ignorantly criticized they must forbear to appear in public, a result
which would incline us to go and shake hands with the reporters all
round in the exuberance of our gratitude.

CHAPTER XI.

ON DANCING.

I was looking through a "Querist Album" the other day; one of those
dreadful confession books in which you are required to answer the most
absurd questions. Dreadful indeed they are to write in, but not
altogether uninteresting to peruse, though the interest comes not so
much in the answers themselves as in the manner in which they are
written.

Some go in for it seriously, and describe their inmost feelings on the
pages; some take a witty strain, and put down the most ridiculous
things they can think of; while others write just what comes first.

Some are such hypocrites, too. Here is a man who describes his wife as
his ideal woman; and when we know that he scarcely ever addresses a
civil word to the poor little woman, his admission is, to say the
least of it, amusing.

"Have you ever been in love? and if so, how often?" This is one of the
questions. The answers to it are of doubtful veracity. All the single
ladies reply "Never!" underlining the word three times. "Yes, only
once," is the statement of the married ones. According to the Querist
Album, "The course of true love _always_ runs smooth." No one seems to
be attacked by Cupid but they must immediately marry the object of
their choice, and "all goes merrily as a marriage bell." The men, on
the contrary, like to appear somewhat inflammable. It is generally the
masculine writers who adopt the sprightly key. Twenty--forty--thousands
of times they admit falling in love. Such one-sided affairs they must
have been, too; for the girls, according to their own confessions, never
reciprocated any attachment until their rightful lords and masters appeared
on the scene. I am afraid we must be a very hard-hearted race!

But it is the question relating to your idea of "the greatest earthly