BY FRANK BELLEW.
The other evening I went to call on my friend Browser. Browser is one of those people who, somehow or another, makes his house exceedingly attractive to young folks. He does not say much nor do much, but seems to enjoy their society in a quiet, comfortable kind of way. Perhaps the attraction to them is that he lets them do as they like. If a lamp shade is broken, or something spilled on the carpet, or a hole burned in the table-cloth, he does not care; he has it repaired, and there's an end on't. The young people run all over the house, capturing materials from the bedrooms to make tableaux, invading the kitchen, pestering the cook, and taking possession of the cold meats in the larder to make little suppers. Even when little Robby Rounder brought some Indian arrows, and fired them into his parlor door, he did not even so much as scold him, but only laughed, and said that if the red men could be made to suffer as much as his doors from the effects of Robby's arrows, they would soon be put an end to. I don't think there is another such house in New York. He holds the opinion that the house was made for his comfort and pleasure, and that he will not make himself a slave to his house.
Fig. 1.
Well, when I called there the other evening I met a whole bevy of youngsters, including Browser's only daughter, and with them was Charley Sparks, with, as usual, a whole museum of tricks and contraptions. As I entered he was attempting to imitate the song of the canary—at least he said so. I never should have guessed it myself. The sound was more like the song of a conscience-stricken bull-frog than anything else. But he explained that he was only a beginner, and that it required much practice to master the higher branches of this art. When, however, he tried his hand at the pig and the horse, nothing could have been more perfect. There was an oily depth of expression about the grunt which was absolutely perfect. After the pig, he took a little instrument from his mouth (see Fig. 1), and showed it to us. It was simply a piece of the leaf of the leek, from which he had scraped away a semicircle of the soft part, leaving the thin membrane which covers one side intact. This he held against the roof of his mouth with his tongue, and by blowing in the proper way, produced all kinds of sounds. Practice is of course required, but with one of these little things I have heard an expert imitate most exquisitely every bird of the woods.
Fig. 2.
"Now, ladies and gentlemen," said Charley Sparks, "I will give you an imitation of Mr. Punch, of the great English Punch and Judy troupe," and he produced from his pocket a little instrument like this (see Fig. 2). It was made of two pieces of pine-wood, with a piece of tape stretched between them, the whole being bound together with thread wound round and round. This he placed in the back part of the mouth, near the opening of the throat, at a very great risk of choking himself, and forthwith issued from his mouth the funny "Root-a-toot-a-too" of Mr. Punch.
He gave us several of the most stirring passages from the tragedy of Punch and Judy, rendering the death-scene of Jack Ketch with such effect as to bring tears (of laughter) to the eyes of every one of the audience.