FRANK was a very studious and clever little boy.
[Illustration]
He took the keenest delight in music, and when he had mastered his
lessons, he was very fond of playing on the concertina, and singing to
his own accompaniment. He could already play "_The Bells go a-ringing
for Sarah_!" with considerable finish and expression, and since
his Uncle DODDLEWIG had presented him with half-a-crown for his
performance, he had given the air with variations, and the song with
every description of embellishment, all over the paternal mansion, and
in most corners of the ancestral estate.
To tell the truth, his family were getting somewhat tired of his
continued asseverations concerning the tintinabulatory tribute
everlastingly rendered to the excellent young woman. And had he not
been so markedly encouraged by rich old Uncle DODDLEWIG, there is
every reason to suppose that FRANK and his concertina would have been
speedily suppressed.
FRANK heard his Papa lamenting that foxes were so very scarce, that
recently they had had no sport whatever. "There must be plenty of
foxes in the country," said the Squire, "but they won't show."
Now FRANK had been reading about Orpheus, and how he charmed all the
wild beasts with his melody. It was true the boy had not a lyre, but
he had no doubt that his concertina would do as well, and he was quite
certain he had seen a fox while taking his rambles in Tippity Thicket,
One day when he had a holiday, and his Papa had gone a hunting with
his friends, he strolled off with his concertina to endeavour to
lure a fox out into the open. He approached the hole where he had
previously seen the fox, and sat down, and began to play vigorously
on his concertina, and to sing at the top of his voice, "The Bells
go a-ringing for _Say_-rah! _Say_-rah! _Say_-rah!" Presently he saw a
huge Fox poke his nose out of the hole. He was delighted! He sang and
played with renewed energy, and began to walk away, still singing and
playing.
The Fox followed, snarling, and snapping, and appearing very angry.
The more he played, the more the Fox snarled and snapped. At last the
animal became furious, all the hair on its back stood on end, and it
began to make short runs with its mouth open at the young musician.
It sprang upon him! He was terrified! He dropped his song and his
concertina at the same moment, and scrambled up the nearest tree.
The Fox's fury then knew no bounds; he trampled on the concertina, he
bit it, he tore open the bellows, and having reduced it to a shapeless
mass, bore it away to his hole.
When the coast was quite clear, FRANK descended, and slunk home.
The next morning one of the keepers found a dead fox. It had
apparently died of suffocation, as sixteen ivory concertina-stops were
found in its throat.
FRANK now has entirely ceased to believe in Ancient Mythology, and
has been even heard to hint that he considers Dr. LEMPRIÈRE a bit of
a humbug.
* * * * *
"LOST TO SIGHT, TO MEMORY DEAR."--An animal very difficult to secure
again when once off ... and that is ... "a pony," when you've lost it
on Newmarket Heath.
* * * * *