Murdered Melody.

Speaking of din and the jag-pipes of Pan, have you ever, dear reader, considered the terrific turbulence of titillated oxygen, the enormous volume of agitated ether, the devastating immensity of reticulated rhapsody, murdered melody, and desiccated discord, masquerading as music, which is unleashed throughout this vale of blows in one little moment of time? Have you paused to gauge the possibilities of all this aerial agitation? Have you considered the resultant reaction if all these vocalists, bagpipists, saxaphonists, piano smashers, euphonium thunderers, organ crashers and unspecified puffers, pounders, twangers and twankers of note, valve, string and reed, were brought together, and, jointly and severally were to uncork one simultaneous blast—just one sharp, quaver or quiver. What think you, would happen?