Page:Life's little ironies (1894).pdf/252

"It happened on Sunday after Christmas—the last Sunday they ever played in Longpuddle church gallery, as it turned out, though they didn’t know it then. As you may know, sir, the players formed a very good band—almost aa good as the Mellatock parish players that were led by the Dewys; and that’s saying a great deal, There was Nicholas Puddingcome, the leader, with the first fiddle ; there was Timothy Thomas, the basa- viel man; John Biles, the tenor fiddier ; Dan’l Hornhead, with the serpent ; Robert Dowdle, with the clarionet ; and Mr. Nicke, with the oboe~—all sound and powerful musicians, and strong-winded men—they that blowed. For that reason they were very much in demand Christmas week for little reela and dancing-parties ; for they could turn a jig or a hornpipe ont of hand as well as ever they could turn ont a psalm, and perhaps better, not to speak irreverent. In short, one half-hour they could be playing a Christmas carol in the equire’s hall to the ladies and gentlemen, and drinking tay and coffee with ’em as modest as saints; and the next, at the Tinker’s Arma, blazing away like wild horses with the 'Dashing White Sergeant’ to nine couple of dancers and more, and swallowing rum-and-cider hot as flame.

“ Well, this Christmas they’d been out to one rattling randy after another every night, and had got next to no sleep at all. Then came the Sanday after Christmas, their fatal day. "Twas so mortal cold that year that they could hardly sit in the gallery ;