She spoke the words clearly, and with such variety and
intelligence, that Sampson recanted, and broke in upon the--" very pretty
"--"how sweet"--and "who is it by?" of the others, by shouting, "Very
weak trash very cleanly sung. Now give us something worth the wear and
tear of your orgins. Immortal vairse widded t' immortal sounds; that is
what I understand b' a song."
Alfred whispered, "No, no, dearest; sing something suitable to you and
me."
"Out of the question. Then go farther away, dear; I shall have more
courage."
He obeyed, and she turned over two or three music-books, and finally sung
from memory. She cultivated musical memory, having observed the contempt
with which men of sense visit the sorry pretenders to music, who are
tuneless and songless among the nightingales, and anywhere else away from
their books. How will they manage to sing in heaven? Answer me that.
The song Julia Dodd sang on this happy occasion, to meet the humble but
heterogeneous views of Messrs. Sampson and Hardie, was a simple eloquent
Irish song called Aileen Aroon. Whose history, by-the-bye, was a curious
one.
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