chorus, keeping time with their feet.

"Oh, listen to the band!
Who doesn't love to hark
To the shout of 'Here they come'
And the banging of the drum--
Oh, listen to the soldiers in the park."

When the dust had settled, every one acknowledged that Biffen's concert
was going with a bang. I am not going to bore you with a longer account of
Biffen's concert. Thurston sang "Alice, where art thou?" the fellows
telling him between the verses that "She wasn't going to come," "Spoony
songs barred," etc., and Rogers carried off the fags' boxing competition
with a big rush in the final round, and Biffen's crew howled with delight.

Finally the bell rang for Acton's song. Brown rattled through the
preliminary bars, and the song commenced. The singer held himself slightly
forward, in a rather stiff and awkward fashion, and his eyes were staring
intently into vacancy. There was not the shadow of a shade of any
expression in his face. A feeling of pity for Acton was the universal
sensation when the first words fell from his lips. Acton had not the ghost
of a singing voice, and the school shuddered at the awful exhibition.
There was an icy silence, but Acton croaked remorselessly on. This is the
song:--

"Jim and I as children played together,
Best of chums for many years were we;
I had no luck--was, alas! a Jonah;
Jim, my chum, was lucky as could be.
Oh, lucky Jim! How I envied him!