Part 9

Blunderbore at once stiffened up, in a manner that formed a marked contrast to his previous easy affability, squared at the whole company, and displayed any amount of brass. It soon appeared, however, that, just like a great many other people when asked to give a little music, he was making a fuss about the preliminaries, for presently, when he had looked stuck-up for a minute or two, he executed a most elegant breakdown, ending in a thoroughly organic change and brilliant musical parts, which latter the ladies caught neatly as they fell, and there, in a moment, stood a full orchestra, with a monster organ in the middle, as Blunderbore’s gold-striped coat and waistcoat became gilded pipes, his curly locks fell in a shower of cornets and French horns, his stock made a full-sized drum, his cuffs a couple of brass drums, his cheeks a pair of cymbals, the bones of his nose naturally became a group of trombones; the fingers and nails scattering in a shower of violins, flutes, piccolos, clarionets, and oboes, and the thumbs in violas and bassoons; his arms making a splendid set of sax-horns, euphonions, and ophicleides; the legs forming two enormous double basses, and his feet dividing into two pairs of violoncellos; while the pin at his breast dropped down as a neat jewel-mounted conducting-baton, the cane bent itself into a magnificent harp; and, to crown all, his hat settled on the top of the organ, forming an elegant carved screen over it. Tap, tap, went the baton in the lovely hand of the conductress, as the gentlemen formed themselves into animated music-desks, which, in the case of the ladies who held the different classes of violins, reversed the usual saying, by giving them two bows to their strings. Wave, wave, wave, swept the baton—one, two, three, and off they went in a grand overture, the fair performers playing their parts (of Blunderbore) to perfection. The lady with the harp was the only disconcerted one, for, unfortunately, Blunderbore had lost the cords and tassels of his walking-cane, so when formed into a harp the instrument was stringless, and the lady holding it, who had a solo to play, was in despair. Ranulf, seeing her distress, mounted the orchestra, saying, as he looked and fumbled among the confused mass that forms the proper contents of a boy’s pocket, “Here is something that will perhaps do.” The lady, seeing the coils over his shoulder, misunderstood him; and there being no time to lose, she, in the very act of saying, “Thank you, dear,” slipped his nose off his shoulder, and before he had time to know what was to happen, strung it on the harp, up and down, up and down, just as the conductress turned towards her to indicate the time for her solo. Her nimble feminine fingers were so gentle that Ranulf was not at all put out, and there was little time to think, for the beautiful arms were stretched out, the taper-fingers gave a rapid wave, and the harp poured out its richest notes, so that all stood listening entranced, as the graceful fingers made it speak, now in round rolling roughness, like the storm; now in rich fulness of music; and now in gentle brilliant trills, like the birds in a distant wood. Ranulf himself, who had a good ear, drank in the sweet sounds with eager delight, wondering as nothing since he left home had made him wonder. But, in an evil moment, forgetting his good manners, which forbid speaking when a solo is going on, he exclaimed—

“Oh, how awfully jolly!”

[Sidenote: THROUGH THE NOSE.]

Terrible was the result. Everybody knows how horrid the sound is when a person speaks holding his nose; but then he only grasps it at one place. Now Ranulf’s, of course, was held at about a hundred places on the harp, and so it sounded 100 times over the fearful twang, making everybody put hands to ears; and the lady harpist, whose sweetest notes had been made so false as to turn her harp into a lyre, was so struck that she looked despair as black as blue eyes could.

[Sidenote: ANOTHER STYLE OF ORGAN.]

Instantly, an indignant but good-natured cry burst forth from the ladies of the orchestra, as they turned upon Ranulf and sang[12]—

You’ve made a pretty mess, Sir Nose; Why did you try to chatter? A check you give to all our bows, Our notes of hand you scatter; Our organ’s drown-ed in a C From nasal organ vile, Which now by us shall punished be In most pertickler style.

And so it was; for all the ladies that were immediately round the harp, arming themselves with feathers from their hair, or flowers from their bouquets, rushed off in a chorus and down upon Ranulf, to tickle his long nose, singing—

[Sidenote: DEFENDING THE BRIDGE.]

Little rogue, ha! ha! I’ll make you pay The false notes you have forced on us in this offensive way. I’ll strike you with a feather, I’ll stab you with a rose, For making of our harp a liar, By talking through the nose.

[Sidenote: TWO TOO MANY.]

And, suiting the action to the utterance, the feathers and the roses were thrust forward in a score of dainty hands to tickle poor Ranulf’s offending organ. But the lady who had strung him on her harp, though she was shocked at the nasal twang he had brought out of her and his instruments combined, did not forget the aid he had given when she was in a difficulty; so, as the merry group came to the attack, taking Ranulf up in her arms, she seated him on the very top of the harp out of reach (where, though not gilded, and in knickerbockers, he did very well for a Cupid), and did all in her power to protect him from the thrusts of the feathers and roses. She succeeded pretty well while only her own sex were engaged, for, being a harpist, she could move her hands rapidly over the strings and wave off the attack in all directions. But what was Ranulf’s horror to see Norval and Jaques, like a pair of rogues as they were, unable to resist the temptation to join the fun, thrust their long neck and arms over the bevy of fair ladies who surrounded him—Norval with a rose in his mouth, and Jaques with a feather in his hand. Ranulf knew at once that he must go off into fits, for the lady could not protect him from the wild flights of the long neck and hands as they flew about tickling his poor nose in all directions. He resigned himself to his fate, slid down to the ground, and went off in screams of laughter, while the merry chorus round him sang—

Lazy dog, ha! ha! wake up, I say, You surely don’t intend to sleep upon the rug all day. I’ll strike you with a feather, I’ll stab you with a rose, Unless you stop that horrid snore, That’s groaning through your nose.

[Sidenote: CHANGE ARMS.]

And as he lay, the arms were still out to protect him, only, instead of their being uncovered except by handsome bracelets at the wrist, they seemed to get grown over with something very like brown merino; and when a voice spoke, saying, “Now, boys, leave him alone, will you?—stop tickling him at once,” it was that of his nurse (for whom his pet name, appropriately, was Harpin); and there he lay, sprawling on his back on the rug, as she kept his brothers off him.

“But where’s my nose?” he exclaimed, as on putting up his hand to his tickled face he found that his coils were gone.

This question was received with a shout of laughter, in which Harpin joined, and Ranulf awoke to the fact that he had been dreaming.

[Sidenote: ABOUT THE END OF IT.]

But although he has returned from Blunderland, leaving behind him his long nose, he has brought a pretty long tail home with him instead of it; and now, as he was often taught never to be a tale-bearer, it has been carried to the Black woods, and hid away in these leaves, in the hope that it may amuse other little people who chance to unfold it.

THE END.

PRINTED BY WILLIAM BLACKWOOD AND SONS.

FOOTNOTES

[1] _Air_—“Silver Threads among the Gold.”

[2] The words, “Till ’ee gits it he’s coal as a cokeumber,” are interpolated in the MSS.; but doubts of their authenticity, and fears of ruptured sides in the case of those who might think a joke was intended, make it prudent to delete them.—ED.

[3] This pig must have been north of the Tweed, to forget his Tees thus.—ED.

[4] _Air_—“Johnny come marching home.”

[5] It is perhaps not generally known that before troops march forth to victory, they are first routed by the Quartermaster—General’s Department. Should the reader think this a joke, he will probably say it is a very poor one; but if he will take the trouble to ask any of his military friends, he will find that they think it anything but a joke that they get routed so often.—ED.

[6] In fun, of course. These boys had learned what all boys should learn, never to get angry at being laughed at.

[7] Perhaps the small reader does not understand. Let him wait till he begins Greek.

[8] If any one, with a mind not delivered from the bondage of mere vulgar arithmetic, should object that two 2’s make 4, and not 5, we have only to say that we don’t care a fraction, and refuse to alter our addition for any such common multiple of a fellow. If any other spelling B-ound individual should say that “toos” is not according to English orthography, we beg to remind him that Eng means narrow, and we prefer to go in for all abroad in such matters; and this being a book of fun, we adopt the funnytick mode.

[9] If anybody should think, on reading this, that the statement is superfluous, because all men come to a stop at their feet, he will please remember that men often have more sole under their feet than anywhere else: in fact, they are so fond of fishy and slippery ways that they always go upon soles and eels; and some of them are so fast, that so far from stopping at their feet, they go such lengths that they stop at nothing.

[10] In the original MS., this word was written proboscition by the author in his innocence.—ED.

[11] Boys should take this as one of their mottoes—“No bills or promissory notes for us.” There are too many sharps ready to press them on young naturals and flats, and they very often end in harsh keys and gloomy bars.—ED.

[12] _Air_—“I’ll strike you with a feather.”