Punch (55.1868)

PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI.

[August 8, 1868.

ODD MEN OUT.

THE MAN WITH AN EAR.—(Continued.)

There are many people in tlie shop as Bilscombe and myself enter.
The young men at the counter are engaged in assisting ladies to the
newest airs, and there is no one to attend to my Friend with an Ear.
He looks round, uncertain as to his next step. I suggest that it’s no

food trying it now. But he is confident that they ’ll be able to tell
im here, and I find out afterwards that his idea on the subject is, that
every one employed in a music-shop is not only musical, but is gifted
with the peculiar faculty of remembering every tune, and recognising
it by a phrase when whistled, played, or hummed. Humming is Bus-
combe’s fort: he is so fond of it, that his head might be described as a
humming-top. Such being his general notions in this matter, it is not
surprising to see him walk up to a sort of railed desk, where a sort of
accountant, or clerk (as I suppose) is sitting, and hear him address
that respectable individual thus, “ I beg your pardon, but—” sidling
round to the side of the rails, and inducing the clerk to raise his head
from his work, and give him every possible attention; “ can you—I
mean, could you tell me if you know a tune that goes—” begins to
hum it softly through tlm desk rails—rum di di dum—” finds that he
has got it wrong, and politely begging the clerk’s pardon, corrects him-
self in this manner—“ no I hadn’t got it quite right then—” is about to
start again, but is stopped by the clerk pointing out one of the young
men just disengaged who wall attend to him. Bilscombe thanks him,
(he is always most polite), and apologising to turn ladies whose dresses
he treads on, goes to the young man.

The young man is ready for him, with one arm- on the counter, his
head in a listening attitude, directly Bilscombe has intimated by the
tone of his voice that his communication is of a private nature.

I try to appear unconnected.with Bilscombe by standing by a piano,
examining some music on it with a critical air ; but I don’t lose a word
of the conversation near me.

My Friend with an Ear commences witli “ Oh ! I’ve only come to

ask—at least I was told you could assist me—” Here the young man
looks as wise as he can. “ The fact is,” Bilscombe continues, “ I’ve
got a very good ear ”—young man seems puzzled—“ and sometime ago
I heard a tune—I mean an air ”—young man accepts the technical
correction with two short nods, as much as to say “ I know what you
mean, quite; go on,” and Bilscombe, talcing that reading of it, goes on
—“ Well, I caught the tune once, but somehow I lost it, and 1 can
only remember the bit; perhaps you can tell me the rest of it,”-—here
Bilscombe, observing several ladies waiting to be attended to, leans
farther across and hums confidentially, “ Bum didi dum dum day
“ I beg your pardon, Sir,” interrupts the young man who can’t hear it
in that low tone, “ I don’t quite—” whereupon Bilscombe is obliged
to recommence louder, and directing himself with his finger, “ Bum
didi dum dum dum, dum diddi, dum do day, Bum didi dum dum doo,—
and that’s where I don’t know whether it goes up or down.” Having
overcome the fact of his audience in the shop, Bilscombe is ready to
hum again, but the assistant settles him at once, he “ doesn’t know—”
never heard it, in fact, and it’s so difficult to catch from merely hear- 1
ing—” here Bilscombe and he smile at one another in a vague way,
and the young man attends to the ladies, in whose favour [Bilsoom be
retires. I ask him, not in the best of tempers, if he has finished ? He
begs my pardon for detaining me (you can never be angry with Bils- i
combe, he’s so polite,) and we leave the shop.

I tell him he’s sure to recollect the tune in the course of the day, if
he only dismisses it from his thoughts now. He says I am right, but
stop—he’s got it, “rum turn ti turn turn ti”—no—how odd, some- '
thing put it out of his head again, and on we walk.

Another music-shop. Will I mind coming in, only for a ^moment.

“ they ’re certain to have it here: sell all these thingsand before I can j
object, the shopman, seeing us on the step, has opened the door.

He begins again ; he is, “ashamed—sorry for troubling them, but lie
must explain that having a good ear he has caught a tune—an air he |
means—once ; and somehow it has gone again. Does he, the shopman, i
remember anything like this—Bum turn tidum tidum,” and so on, da j
capo. Other shopmen look at each other and smile. There is no one
on business then, so Bilscombe, becoming bolder, repeats it up to a

EASIER SAID THAN DONE.

SCENE—" THE ROW.”—LADY’S BACK HAIR FALLS OFF, AND IS WORRIED BY TWO LITTLE DOGS (UNMUZZLED).
Sister. “ Come along, Ellen; why don’t you Look as if it did not Belong to you ?”