"Sh! I want you all to be very quiet. Mr. Chooker—Mr. Chooker,—please don't talk,—don't talk, please,—Mr. Chooker is very excitable. Chooker,—yes, he is one of the Chookers. Young people come off the stairs. Sh! I have very great pleasure in introducing to you Mr. Chooker."
Mr. Chooker came forward with a malicious look, which seemed to say, "You all seem to be very happy,—very jolly,—and enjoying yourselves. Just wait a bit. I am about to recite a little poem of my own entitled, 'The Triple Suicide!'"
Then came the boy of the family, a kind of child prodigy, who, after giving a low and jerky bow, recited as follows: (Here impersonate a boy in awkward style.)
"A soldier of the Legion lay dying in Algiers,
There was lack of woman's nursing, there was dearth of woman's
tears;—there was dearth of woman's tears." (Stops.)
"The women were crying, you know. Some were crying and others were weeping. Those that weren't weeping were crying!" (Pauses, then bows low, and begins again.)
"A soldier of the Legion lay dying in Algiers,
There was lack of woman's nursing, there was dearth of woman's tears;
But a comrade stood beside him, while his life-blood ebbed away—
while his life-blood ebbed away,—while his life-blood ebbed away
——"
"His blood was flowing along, you know. There was blood here and there. There was blood spattered over everything, and——" (Pauses long, bows low, and begins again with great determination and in loud voice.)
"A soldier of the Legion lay dying in Algiers,
There was lack of woman's nursing, there was dearth of woman's tears;
But a comrade stood beside him, while his life-blood ebbed away,—
ebbed away,—ebbed away (gradually begins to cry),—ebbed away (as
if speaking to someone at the side)—eh?" (Exits slowly with hands
at eyes silently weeping.)
The young miss of the family, recently graduated, next gave an original poem entitled "The Hen," as follows:
"Tell me not in mournful numbers,
Life is but an empty dream!—
For the hen is dead that slumbers,
And things are not what they seem.