_Mrs. Dodd._ That depends upon the singer, I presume.
_Sampson._ Mai-- dear--madam, they all sing alike; just as they all write
alike. I can hardly tell one fashionable tune from another; and nobody
can tell one word from another, when they cut out all the consonants. N'
listen me. This is what I heard sung by a lady last night.
Eu un Da' ei u aa an oo.
By oo eeeeyee aa
Vaullee, Vaullee, Vaullee, Vaullee,
Vaullee om is igh eeaa
An ellin in is ud.
_Mrs. Dodd._ That sounds like gibberish.
_Sampson._ It is gibberish, but it's Drydenish in articulating mouths. It
is--
He sung Darius great and good,
By too severe a fate
Fallen, fallen, fallen, fallen,
Fallen from his high estate,
And wiltering in his blood.
_Mrs. Dodd._ I think you exaggerate. I will answer for Julia that she
shall speak as distinctly to music as you do in conversation.
_Sampson_ (all unconscious of the tap). Time will show, madam. At prisent
they seem to be in no hurry to spatter us with their word-jelly. Does
some spark of pity linger in their marble bos'ms? or do they prefer
inaud'ble chit-chat t' inarticulate mewing?
Julia, thus pressed, sang one of those songs that come and go every
season.
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