able purgatory for expiating the sins of delinquent musicians;
affording, on this supposition, an exquisite illustration of the perfect
adaptation of means to an end--one well worthy the attention of all
future writers on that subject. Independently of the nuisance of its
inexpressibly harsh-jingling tones, (as, if you were being hissed by a
quantity of rusty iron wire,) it always gives us the fidget to hear it
for the sake of poor Abel, (surely its only admirer,) grinding away for
dear life, to the extreme exacerbation of the bears growling beneath,
under the combined irritation of no supper and his abominable tinkling.
How they must have longed to gobble him up, were it only for the sake
of popping an extinguisher on the "zit zan zounds" overhead! It was the
reverse of the old tale, "no song no supper;" for they got the song,
instead of a supper on the nice plump artist, which they would have
liked much better. We wish he had stuck to his text, and persisted in
his refusal to play; for then the fate that awaited him would but have
been poetical justice for his utter and criminal want of taste--an
adequate retribution on a wretch patronising an instrument whose
demerits transcend every adjective that occurs to us at this present
moment.

But as we cannot, even in the wildest freaks of our imagination,
conceive of any one really liking the hurdy-gurdy--nay, we are prepared
to demonstrate much affection absolutely impossible--we incline to think
there must have been some corruption of this tradition in the course of
its being handed down to us, so far at least as concerns the name of the
instrument played at such a price; and on the antiquarian principle that
consonants are changeable at pleasure, and vowels go for nothing, we
take leave for hurdy-gurdy (what a vulgar sound it has!) to read flute,
violin, lute, or, in short, any other presentable musical instrument
that may chance to find the greatest favour in our eyes. A change which
has the twofold merit of saving Abel's character for taste, and
preserving so excellent a story from carrying a lie on the face of it;
and for this service of ours, we desire alike the thanks of musicians
and moralists, to whom we most respectfully present our improved
version, as suitable for circulation by the most fastidious artist, or
rigid precisian.

Mercy on us! What a rattling and clattering of doors and windows! The
windows will certainly be blown in at last, for they strain and