of it, but we always played the same old tune; it was a very pretty tune

-how well I remember it--I wonder when I shall ever get rid of it. We

never played either the melodeon or the organ except at devotions--but I

am too fast: young Albert did know part of a tune something about

O Something-Or-Other How Sweet It Is to Know That He's His

What's-his-Name" (I do not remember the exact title of it, but it was

very plaintive and full of sentiment); Albert played that pretty much

all the time until we contracted with him to restrain himself. But

nobody ever sang by moonlight on the upper deck, and the congregational

singing at church and prayers was not of a superior order of

architecture. I put up with it as long as I could and then joined in

and tried to improve it, but this encouraged young George to join in

too, and that made a failure of it; because George's voice was just

"turning," and when he was singing a dismal sort of bass it was apt to

fly off the handle and startle everybody with a most discordant cackle

on the upper notes. George didn't know the tunes, either, which was

also a drawback to his performances. I said:

"Come, now, George, don't improvise. It looks too egotistical. It will

provoke remark. Just stick to 'Coronation,' like the others. It is a

good tune--you can't improve it any, just off-hand, in this way."

"Why, I'm not trying to improve it--and I am singing like the others

--just as it is in the notes."

And he honestly thought he was, too; and so he had no one to blame but

The Innocents Abroad