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Updated: June 4, 2025
There was an undertone to the clangor of the music-box and the human hum, for across the cavern's farther end for a space of two hundred yards the great river rushed, penned here into a deep trough of less than a tenth its normal width plunging out of a great fanged gap and hurrying out of view down another one, licking smooth banks on its way with a hungry sucking sound.
"That's the word. Twice the spirit of Duvernay, and ten times the beauty. But just you hear her sing, that is all; Italian, French, German, English even." "Plaintive songs?" "Oh, whatever they ask for. Make you laugh or make you cry to order; never says no. Just smiles and sits down to the music-box. Only she won't sing two running: they have to stick a duffer in between.
Then the leader shot out his wings with a hoarse cry, every goose in the procession followed his example, and with a rush they flapped past us, half running, half flying. It was done with such startling suddenness that it caused a general upsetting of our party. Phil veered to one side, and over we went in a heap, music-box, Elsie, barrow, and all, with myself on top.
The music-box droned out the last notes of "You'll Remember Me," gave a click, paused an instant as if to take breath, and then started mournfully on its last number, "Be it ever so humble, there's no place like home." At the first sound of the familiar notes, Elsie laid her head down on her knees and began to weep dismally. "I wish I was back in my home, sweet home," she cried.
Then it occurred to her that it was imprudent to tell this to her boy, and she added, gruffly: "Shut up and go to sleep." The music-box in the reception-room, set going by the hand of one of the boarders, commenced to tinkle that sentimental air from La Mascotte, the duet between Pippo and Bettina: Will you forget me, gentle swain? Then all was silent.
This is what I mean by Newman's tenderness: Madame de Cintre pleased him so, exactly as she was, that his desire to interpose between her and the troubles of life had the quality of a young mother's eagerness to protect the sleep of her first-born child. Newman was simply charmed, and he handled his charm as if it were a music-box which would stop if one shook it.
At first, half asleep as he was, he thought that it must be little Cousin Harriett winding up the music-box in the room, and then he suddenly started into consciousness with the remembrance that he was alone and that it couldn't be Cousin Harriett. She was at home; in bed perhaps, already. The music seemed to sound quite near him, and it was very sweet and soft.
It had followed her down the staircase and into the street, the weird, unnatural music. It was only when she had entered a cab in the Strand that she realized exactly what the music was. She remembered that Fellowes had bought a music-box which could be timed to play at will even days ahead, and he had evidently set the box to play at this hour.
"What do you want to do with the fiddle think it's a music-box?" asked Sam, its owner. "Go to hell!" said Williams. As Field gave the violin over to him, his hands seemed to tremble with eagerness. He raised his bow, and struck into an imposing, brilliant strain, and the men fell back in astonishment. "Well, I'll be damned!" gasped the owner of the violin. "Keep quiet, Sam." Mrs.
The National Phonograph Company from the very start determined to retire at least temporarily from the field of stenographic use, and to exploit the phonograph for musical purposes as a competitor of the music-box.
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