attle," by T. Hood. Every one, by the way, chose
Hood. It was the only poetry-book to be had in the Fourth Junior. The
reading progressed satisfactorily for the first two lines--indeed, until
a joke occurred, and here the reader was so overcome with the humour of
the thing that he broke into a laugh, and every time he tried to begin
the next line he laughed before he could get it out, until at last it
got to be quite as monotonous as watching the hyena at the Zoological
Gardens. Finally he did get through the line, but in a voice so weak,
wavering by reason of his efforts not to laugh, that the effect was more
ludicrous than ever. He could get no farther, however. For the
recollection of the joke that had passed, and the anticipation of the
one that was coming, fairly doubled him up, and he let the book drop out
of his hands in the middle of one of his convulsions.

The next performance was an "instrumental" one, which bade fair to be a
great success. Four of the boys had learned to whistle "Home, Sweet
Home" in parts, and were now about to ravish the audience with this
time-honoured melody. They stood meekly side by side in a straight line
facing the audience, waiting for the leader to begin, and screwing their
mouths up into the proper shape. Just as the signal was given, and each
had taken a long breath and was in the act of letting out, some lout in
the audience laughed! The result may be imagined. The first note,
which was to have been so beautiful, sounded just like the letting off
of steam from four leaky safety-valves, and no effort could recover the
melody. The more they tried the more they laughed. The more they
laughed the more the audience roared. There they stood, with faces of
mingled agony and mirth, frantically trying to get the sound out; but it
never came, and they finally had to retire, leaving the audience to
imagine what the effect of "Home, Sweet Home" might have been had they
only got at it.

However, as the "dramatic" performance came next, the audience were
comforted. The modest subject chosen was _Hamlet_.

Stephen, who was combining the duties of master of the ceremonies with
those of president, rose and said to the company, "All turn round, and
don't look till I tell you."

Of course every one pretended to turn round, and of course everybody
looked as hard as he could. And they saw Bramble hop up on a chair and
lower the gas, to represent night. And they saw Paul and Padge