It was several minutes before Jock recovered from the fit of merriment that followed the last disappearance. Then he went on.
In the meantime he bagged the piano next door, the cornet across the street, the concertina up-stairs and a few other simple but effective species, including, “dot leetle German band.”
“It is useless, I cannot go another step until I have had my laugh out,” said Jock as he sat himself down on the steps of a great building and shook all over for a good ten minutes.
In the midst of his hilarity, he heard a voice. It jarred him. “That’s a school marm addressing her pupils,” quoth Jock. For a second he made a wry face, then his eyes twinkled, and he arose and stole into the school-room, hiding behind a great globe.
The teacher had forgotten how to talk in natural tones and was yelling in an A sharp and D flat voice.
“The poor children,” sighed Jock, looking serious for one second. Then he grinned, opened the bag and the unnatural tones vanished right into it.
Continuing his journey he caught “Annie Ould R-r-rags” and all her relations.
Suddenly Jock found himself in a western city and was delighted to hear that a meeting of birds was in progress, for the elation and elevation of their sex (they were all ladies, by the way). Jock loved the ladies, so he stole softly in to their meeting. But oh, what a shock did little Jock get! The birds were having a terrible battle with their tongues and Jock was so surprised that he even forgot about his bag.
It was all on account of a poor little bird who wanted to attend the meeting and would not be permitted to. And why? Because she was black and the other birds were white (outside).
“But I thought this meeting was good of all birds,” ventured one fair-minded little creature. Whereupon there was a storm of wrath and scorn. This brought Jock to his senses. Cautious, as a good fisherman, for birds have wings, Jock opened his bag, and every unjust, discordant vibration was swallowed up.