Читать книгу Tales of the Wonder Club - M. Y. Halidom - Страница 11

At the conclusion of Dr. Bleedem's narrative he was highly complimented by his audience, and various were the comments upon his recital. The chairman declared himself unable to decide as to which of the two stories related that evening was the more marvellous.

The host of the "Headless Lady" vowed he had never heard such a tale in all his life before, though he knew a good story or two himself. Mr. Oldstone proposed the health of the doctor, which was drunk accordingly, amid cheers. He responded to it in a short speech, when the old Dutch clock in the corner struck one. The president rose and addressed the club thus:

"Gentlemen, we have listened to two most interesting stories; but time flies—the clock has announced the commencement of another day. I regret that, on account of the length of the first two narratives, we shall be prevented from hearing a story from everyone; yet I should be loth to break up this very pleasant meeting without hearing one more recital. I propose, however, that, in consideration for some of our worthy guests—the gallant captain, to wit, and our comic friend here, who, as you see, gentlemen, appear somewhat overwhelmed under the all-inspiring influence of the punch—(laughter)—that the next narrative be of shorter duration than the two preceding.

"According to order, the next tale ought to proceed from Professor Cyanite."

Then, turning towards the professor, he inquired if he had a story ready that would not take too long in the recital.

"Well, chairman," said the professor, "the fact is that I had prepared somewhat a lengthy one for our meeting. At present I can't think of one sufficiently short to wind up the evening."

"In that case," said the chairman, "perhaps Mr. Blackdeed will be able to favour now."

Mr. Blackdeed begged to be excused. He said he could not think of one at all. He hoped, however, to have one ready for the next evening.

"Dear, dear!" said the chairman; "this is really a very bad state of affairs. Has no one some short story ready? Mr. Parnassus, cannot you favour the company?"

The young poet, blushing slightly, replied, "I thought of bringing before the company this evening—or, rather, last evening, I ought to say—a curious little incident out of my own experience, which occurred to me when travelling in Switzerland a few years ago. I have put it into verse in the form of a ballad. It is not long, and if it will not weary the company, I shall be most happy to sing it."

"A song, a song!" cried many voices at once. "Bravo, Parnassus! Hear, hear!"

"The title of the ballad I am about to sing to you, gentlemen, I propose calling 'The Glacier King.'"

"Good," said the chairman. "Silence, gentlemen, if you please. A song from Mr. Parnassus."

A dead silence ensued, and the poet, after clearing his throat once or twice, began in a clear, rich voice the following ballad:—