singing at school, and had looked over the song books, and had even
practised a few scales. In this way I discovered that I had a very clear
tenor voice, so I immediately joined the group. They did not seem
particularly anxious to have me do so, and as I now look back, I can see
how young and fresh I was.

Jumping upon a fence, I at once threw out my chest and proceeded to give
them a tenor solo. I was wholly unprepared for what followed.

In an instant they all charged at me, howling, spitting, and finally
succeeded in knocking me from my high position. Down on the ground we
rolled and struggled. Fur flew! Oh, how they scratched and kicked and
pummeled me. One bit pieces out of my ears, another gave me a black eye.
In my agony I thought of mother and that her warnings were right after
all. I found out afterwards that the object of their serenade was a lady,
and my fine appearance and good voice made them wild with jealousy. I
could have put up a good fight against one or two enemies, but an army of
five proved too much for me. However, I got in a few savage bites and
scratches, which I think they remembered for some time.

During this terrible battle we all gave vocal selections in different
keys, which could hardly be called pleasing to the ear, and were rewarded
by a shower of empty bottles, old shoes, hair brushes, and finally some
unkind person threw a pitcher of ice-water at us, from a window above.
This last offering served to break up the encounter, as well as the
pitcher.

Upon being invited behind the scenes of a theatre some weeks later, and
peeping from the wings, I noticed that a young girl (who gave a song and
dance) was showered with roses, violets and other beautiful flowers. I