ret, and Manners sat upon the other side.

The hero of the piece was a jovial big rascal with a spirited voice, and
much byplay which kept his good-natured audience in titters--from the
young gentlemen and little shrieks--from the young ladies. Mr. Blythoe,
the hero, when the curtain had fallen upon what the management was
pleased to call the second act, consented, in response to continued
applause, due to a double back somersault and two appropriate remarks
fired off in midair (this was his great psychic moment), to make a
little speech and sing a song. His speech, though syntactically erratic,
was delivered in a loud, frank way that won everybody's heart, and in
closing he said:

"Three nights ago I met with a young feller in this tow--city
[applause], and when we had taken one together for luck [titters from
the young gentlemen, who wanted one another to know that they knew what
he meant], he made me the loan of the song I'm a-going to sing. He made
up the words and the tune of this song hisself, and he's right here in
this audience." This gave an opportunity for some buffoonery among the
young gentlemen. Mr. Blythoe looked for one instant straight at Aladdin,
and Aladdin went into a cold sweat, for he began to recollect that
somewhere on a certain awful night he had taken drinks with Mr. Blythoe
and had sung him songs. Mr. Blythoe went on:

"This young gentleman said I specially wasn't to mention his name, and
I won't, but I want all you ladies and gentlemen to know that this here
beautiful ballad was composed right here in this tow--city [applause] by
a citizen of this city. And here goes."

Then Mr. Blythoe did a wonderful thing. Much was owing to the words and
air, but a little something to the way in which Mr. Blythoe sang. He
took his audience with the first bar, and had some of them crying when
he was through. And the song should have been silly. It was about a gay,
gay young dog of a crow, that left the flock and went to a sunny land
and lived a mad, mad life; and finally, penitent and old, came home to
the north country and saw his old playmates in the distance circling
about the old pine-tree, but was too weak to reach them, or to call loud
enough for them to hear, and so lay down and died, died, died. The tune
was the sweetest little plaintive wail, and at the end of each stanza it
died, died, till you had to cry.

Mr. Blythoe received tremendous applause, but refused to encore. He
winked to Aladdin a