THE GOLDEN OPPORTUNITY.
lic;' and he carelessly took up a little cedar stick and played 'The Blue Bells of Scotland' on the glass keys of a plaything piano.
'This,' he observed, coolly throwing down the stick and taking up an accordion, 'this delightful little instrument is half-a-guinea—equal to the finest notes of the hautboy.' He drew it out, and in his skilful hands it 'discoursed' music, which I thought the most excellent I had ever heard.
But what is the use of minutely describing my temptation? In ten minutes the accordion was folded up in silver paper, and I had parted with my cherished half-sovereign.
As we walked home, I enlarged on the delight I should have in playing on my accordion. 'It is so easy, papa; you have only to draw it in and out; I can even play it at dinner-time, if you like, between the meat and the puddings. You know the queen has a band, papa, to play while she dines, and so can you.'
My father abruptly declined this liberal offer; so did my grandfather, when I repeated it to him, but I was relieved to find that he was not in the least surprised at the way in which I had spent his present. This, however, did not prevent my feeling sundry twinges of regret when I remembered all my good intentions. But, alas! my accordion soon cost me tears of bitter disappointment. Whether from its fault, or my own, I could not tell, but draw it out, and twist it about as I might, it would not play 'The Blue Bells of Scotland,' or any other of my favorite tunes. It was just like the piano, every tune must be learned;
