B. A. Botkin, ed., A Treasury of American Anecdotes (New York: Random House, 1957), 210-12. An excerpt from Joseph C. Lincoln, Cape Cod Yesterdays (Boston: Little, Brown & Co., 1935), 279-80, 281-3. A funeral service is disrupted when someone sits on a chair outfitted with a music box.
https://www.gutenberg.org/files/2473/2473-h/2473-h.htm
Joseph C. Lincoln, Mary-‘Gusta. New York: D. Appleton and Company, 1916.
Mary-'Gusta saw the music chair and a quiver of guilty fear tinged along her spine; that particular chair had always been, to her, the bright, particular glory of the house. Not because it was beautiful, for that it distinctly was not; but because of the marvellous secret hidden beneath its upholstered seat. Captain Marcellus had brought it home years and years before, when he was a sea-going bachelor and made voyages to Hamburg. In its normal condition it was a perfectly quiet and ugly chair, but there was a catch under one arm and a music box under the seat. And if that catch were released, then when anyone sat in it, the music box played “The Campbell's Are Coming” with spirit and jingle. And, moreover, kept on playing it to the finish unless the catch was pushed back again.
To Mary-'Gusta that chair was a perpetual fascination. She had been expressly forbidden to touch it, had been shut in the dark closet more than once for touching it; but, nevertheless, the temptation was always there and she had yielded to that temptation at intervals when Mrs. Hobbs and her stepfather were out. And the last time she had touched it she had broken the catch. She had wound up the music box, after hearing it play, but the catch which made it a perfectly safe seat and not a trap for the unwary had refused to push back into place. And now there it was, loaded and primed, so to speak, and she was responsible. Suppose—Oh, horrible thought!—suppose anyone should sit in it that afternoon!
[…]
The small, white-haired man sat down in the rush-seated chair. The big man hesitated, separated his coat tails, and then he, too, sat down.
And the music box under the seat of the chair he sat in informed everyone with cheerful vigor that the Campbells were coming, Hurrah! Hurrah!
Captain Shadrach Gould arose from that chair, arose promptly and without hesitation. Mr. Zoeth Hamilton also rose; so did many others in the vicinity. There was a stir and a rustle and whispered exclamations. And still the news of the imminent arrival of the Campbells was tinkled abroad and continued to tinkle. Someone giggled, so did someone else. Others said, “Hush!”
Mrs. Judge Baxter said, “Heavens and earth!”
Mrs. Hobbs looked as if she wished to say something very much indeed.
Captain Shadrach's bald spot blazed a fiery red and he glared about him helplessly.
Mr. Hallett, who was used to unexpected happenings at funerals—though, to do him justice, he had never before had to deal with anything quite like this—rushed to the center of the disturbance. Mrs. Hobbs hastened to help. Together and with whisperings, they fidgeted with the refractory catch. And still the music box played—and played—and played.
At last Mr. Hallett gave it up. He seized the chair and with it in his arms rushed out into the dining-room. Captain Shadrach Gould mopped his face with a handkerchief and stood, because there was nowhere for him to sit. Mrs. Hobbs, almost as red in the face as Captain Shad himself, hastened back and collapsed upon the sofa. Mr. Sharon cleared his throat.
And still, from behind the closed door of the dining-room the music chair tinkled on:
“The Campbells are coming! Hurrah! Hurrah!” Poor little guilty, frightened Mary-'Gusta covered her face with her hands.
