Dennison began to play "The Gondoliers," which was the popular
comic opera of the day. Solos were dispensed with, and each chorus was
sung many times. The wine was evidently a huge success, the noise was
magnificent, and everybody was reasonably peaceful. No one noticed
that Lambert and Webb were now sitting side by side on the floor,
swearing eternal friendship and requiring champagne in which to pledge
each other, until Webb got hold of the idea that he was Leander trying
to swim the Hellespont, and Collier poured a jug of water over his head
so that he might make the scene more realistic.

One or two men went quietly away, saying that it was getting late. The
music stopped for a moment, while Dennison walked about the room
seeking refreshment and finding very little. The noise subsided so
much that a knock was heard, and a scout poked his head into the room
and spoke to Dennison who was standing by the door. Every one asked
what he wanted, and Dennison assured us that it did not matter, which
we were all inclined to believe with the exception of Ward, who went to
the piano and began the National Anthem. It was the only tune he could
play, and he had to take infinite pains to get the right notes, so he
was forcibly removed, and Dennison installed in his place. "The
Gondoliers" and the noise began again, while Ward, protesting that it
was time we went away, was disregarded entirely. From sheer distaste
for punch and only a very limited taste for wine I had not been seeking
my enjoyment in drinking, but I had smoked far more than was good for
me, and my head felt as large as a pumpkin. It occurred to me,
however, that if Ward wished our entertainment to close he was sure to
be right, so I pulled over Dennison backwards from the piano. That
caused a very fair hubbub and did not do much good, since everybody
began to sing what they liked, without music.

Ward went round persuading men to go, until Lambert, Webb, Collier,
Ward, Dennison and I were the only ones remaining. Collier was heavy
with sleep, but Lambert and Webb, who still sat on the floor with their
backs propped up against a sofa, were full of song. Dennison sulked in
a corner; he told me afterwards that I had hurt his head. Ward and I
by violent efforts got Lambert and Webb upon their legs and propped
them up against each other. They stood singing, "For he's a jolly good
fellow," and looking extraordinarily foolish. At last we got them to
the