And the music she could extract from one string--"one string, mind you, ladees and gentlemun!" It was marvelous.
It is true that she introduced an element of sadness in the evening when she played "Home, Sweet Home," and "Way Down upon the Swanee River," reducing even the bartenders and hold-up men almost to tears.

But possibly a touch of the serious lends a pleasant contrast to merriment.
There remained Signor Antolini, who was the "World's Greatest Contortionist," and who certainly could contort in a manner to shame an angleworm: could twist his slim body into knots that it would seem almost impossible to untie; and could pass it through a hoop through which any sensible person would be willing to bet it couldn't go.
Whitey had cause to remember this talent of the Signor's, for in after days when Whitey tried to pass _his_ body through a small hoop, it didn't pass.

It held Whitey firmly, in a very painful position, all twisted up like that.

And as no one happened to be near, it was some time before Whitey's yells brought Bill Jordan, who cut the hoop in two, and instead of applauding, laughed.
And last of all came a little play in which the "entire company" took part, a comic little play, in which Signor Antolini was a professor who was going to teach Mrs.Mildini to be an actress.

But they were constantly interrupted by Mr.Mildini, who was a funny darky, all blacked up.