As little pea to pea.
Come, heart; come, lute, guitar, and all,
In one lament ye all are blended!
Hang on your nails against the wall—
I can't afford to get you mended!”
Just fancy this touching song sung by a “nice young man,” with all the modern “shakes” and affetuoso accompaniments, and you will “realize” a fair hit at what was not long since a fashionable species of English ballad music.
“Speaking of music,” by-the-by, we are reminded of rather a sharp reply made by a celebrated nobleman in England to an enterprising musical gentleman, who was a good deal of an enthusiast in the art. “I have waited upon you, my lord, to ask for your subscription of twenty guineas to the series of six Italian concerts, to be given at ——'s Rooms. Knowing your lordship to be an admirer of the sweet—”
“You've been misinformed, sir. I am not much of an admirer of the school of ‘difficult music:’ on the contrary, I often wish, with Dr. Johnson, that ‘it was not only difficult, but impossible.’ ”
“But as a nobleman, as a public man, your lordship can not be insensible to the value of your honored name upon the subscription-list. Your eminent brother, the greatest of London's prelates, the most gifted, your honorable brother subscribed fifty guineas. Here, sir, is his signature upon this very paper which I hold in my hand.”