He honestly imagines that he has given them a treat, and says he will sing another comic song after supper.
Speaking of comic songs and parties, reminds me of a rather curious incident at which I once assisted; which, as it throws much light upon the inner mental working of human nature in general, ought, I think, to be recorded in these pages.
We were a fashionable and highly cultured party.

We had on our best clothes, and we talked pretty, and were very happy--all except two young fellows, students, just returned from Germany, commonplace young men, who seemed restless and uncomfortable, as if they found the proceedings slow.
The truth was, we were too clever for them.

Our brilliant but polished conversation, and our high-class tastes, were beyond them.

They were out of place, among us.

They never ought to have been there at all.
Everybody agreed upon that, later on.
We played _morceaux_ from the old German masters.