ld bring
them forth from their lurking-places in great numbers. A few abrupt,
dissonant discords would, invariably, send them scurrying to their
holes.

Another violinist informs me that several mice living in his room are
influenced by the music of his violin; when he plays an _andante_
movement very softly, they appear to listen intently and to enjoy the
music; but when he plays an _allegro_ in quick time and loud, they
quickly run away. The organist of the First Presbyterian Church of
Owensboro, Kentucky,[63] tells me that when he lived in Cuba, New York,
a mouse dwelt beneath a bookcase in his room, and that he often
performed the following experiment: Seating himself at the piano, he
would begin improvising softly. In a few moments the mouse would come
from beneath the bookcase, approach the centre of the room, and,
standing on its hind feet, would listen intently to the music. A loud
chord on the piano would send it scampering away to its home. He would
then resume his _pianissimo_ improvisation, and the mouse would soon
return to its former station near the centre of the room, only to vanish
again as soon as the loud chords were struck.

[63] Professor L. J. Quigley.

A violinist of Louisville, Kentucky, Mr. Karl Benedik, told me, on one
occasion, that he had repeatedly noticed that several mice, which lived
in his room, were influenced by the music of his violin. When he played
an _andante_ movement _pianissimo_, they would appear to listen with
pleasure; but when he played an _allegro_ in quick _tempo_ and _forte_,
they immediately ran away.

Mice not only enjoy the music of others, but sometimes make music
themselves. My father enjoyed nightly concerts or serenades, for a long
time, from some "singing mice" in his library. I was fortunate enough to
hear this novel concert on one occasion. The mice, two in number, came
out from beneath the casing of the fireplace. They took places on the
hearth, several feet distant from one another, and first one, and then
the other, sang. Their songs were low and musical, not unlike the song
of the canary, though there were no cadenzas or _fioritura_ passages.
They seemed to use six notes, these notes being repeated in melodious
sequences. I noticed, several times, a run of four notes in ascending
scale. On another occasion, in my bedroom, I heard a mouse sing his
pleasing little song over and over again.

Miss Ada Sterling, editor of _Fashions_, writes me as follows: