ancy of the uninformed, and to emit little gasps of astonished delight when Eustace would say, "Passing from the city gates, we next come upon a view that is well worthy a moment of our attention."
With the lights up again, a small flask of water from the river Jordan was handed about, to be examined, by those who knew it too well, in the same loyal spirit of curiosity. A guest would hold it reverently a moment, then glance up in search of some one to whom it might be heartily extended.
This over, the elder Miss Eubanks—Marcella of the severe mien—sang interestingly, "I gathered Shells upon the Shore," and for an encore, in response to eager demands, "Comin' thro' the Rye." Not coyly did she give this, with inciting, blushing implications, but rather with an unbending, disapproving sternness, as if with intent to divert the minds of her listeners from the song's frank ribaldry to its purely musical values.
Eustace followed with a solo:—
"Nigh to a grave that was newly made,
Leaned a sexton old on his earth-worn spade."
In the very low parts, where the sexton old is required to say, "I gather them in," he was most effective, and many of his more susceptible hearers shuddered. For an encore he sang, "I am the old Turnkey," which goes lower and lower with deliberate steps until it descends to incredible depths of bassness.
