Little music perhaps might leave a pleasant taste. What do you say,
Vicar?" Upon which the Vicar would regularly murmur-- "Say, rather,
would gild refined gold, Miss Limpenny." And the Admiral as invariably
broke in with-- "Come, Sophy! remember the proverb about little birds
that can sing and won't sing." This prelude having been duly recited,
the Misses Buzza would together trip to the piano, on which the two
younger girls in duet were used to accompany Sophia's artless ballads.
The performance gained a character of its own from a habit to which
Calypso clung, of counting the time in an audible aside: as thus--
_Sophia_ (singing): "Oh, breathe but a whispered command." _Calypso:
"One, two, three, four_." _Sophia_: "I'll lay down my life for thee!"
_Calypso: "One, two, three, four_." --the effect of which upon strangers
has been known to be paralysing, though we who were _cumeelfo_ pretended
not to notice it. But Sophy could also accompany her own songs, such as,
"Will you love me then as now?" and "I'd rather be a daisy," with much
feeling. She was clever, too, with the water-colour brush, and to her we
owe that picture of "_ H.M.S. Calypso_ in a Storm," which hangs to this
day over the Admiral's mantelpiece. I could dwell on this evening for
ever; not that the company was so large as usual, but because it was t
|
