[Long argument between Harris and Harris’s friend as to what Harris is really singing. Friend finally suggests that it doesn’t matter what Harris is singing so long as Harris gets on and sings it, and Harris with an evident sense of injustice rankling inside him, requests pianist to begin again. Pianist, thereupon, starts prelude to the Admiral’s song, and Harris, seizing what he considers to be a favourable opening in the music, begins.]

Harris:

‘When I was young and called to the Bar.’

[General roar of laughter, taken by Harris as a compliment. Pianist, thinking of his wife and family, gives up the unequal contest and retires; his place being taken by a stronger-nerved man.]

The New Pianist (cheerily): ‘Now then, old man, you start off, and I’ll follow. We won’t bother about any prelude.’

Harris (upon whom the explanation of matters has slowly dawned—laughing): ‘By Jove! I beg your pardon. Of course—I’ve been mixing up the two songs. It was Jenkins who confused me, you know. Now then.’

[Singing; his voice appearing to come from the cellar, and suggesting the first low warnings of an approaching earthquake.]

‘When I was young I served a term
As office-boy to an attorney’s firm.’

(Aside to pianist): ‘It is too low, old man; we’ll have that over again, if you don’t mind.’

[Sings first two lines over again, in a high falsetto this time. Great surprise on the part of the audience. Nervous old lady near the fire begins to cry, and has to be led out.]

Harris (continuing):

‘I swept the windows and I swept the door,
And I——

‘No—no, I cleaned the windows of the big front door. And I polished up the floor—no, dash it—I beg your pardon—funny thing, I can’t think of that line. And I—and I—Oh, well, we’ll get on to the chorus, and chance it (sings):

‘And I diddle-diddle-diddle-diddle-diddle-diddle-de,
Till now I am ruler of the Queen’s navee.

‘Now then, chorus—it’s the last two lines repeated, you know.’

General Chorus:

‘And he diddle-diddle-diddle-diddle-diddle-diddle-dee’d,
Till now he is ruler of the Queen’s navee.

And Harris never sees what an ass he is making of himself, and how he is annoying a lot of people who never did him any harm. He honestly imagines that he has given them a treat, and says he will sing another comic song after supper.

Speaking of comic songs and parties, reminds me of a rather curious incident at which I once assisted; which, as it throws much light upon the inner mental working of human nature in general, ought, I think, to be recorded in these pages.

We were a fashionable and highly cultured party. We had on our best clothes, and we talked pretty, and were very happy—all except two young fellows, students just returned from Germany, commonplace young men, who seemed restless and uncomfortable, as if they found the proceedings slow. The truth