mour_ not _wit_; and sallies
of humour are scarcely ever capable of translation.

An odd thing to which I was this morning witness, has called my thoughts
away to a curious train of reflections upon the animal race; and how far
they may be made companionable and intelligent. The famous Ferdinand
Bertoni, so well known in London by his long residence among us, and
from the undisputed merit of his compositions, now inhabits this his
native city, and being fond of _dumb creatures_, as we call them, took
to petting a pigeon, one of the few animals which can live at Venice,
where, as I observed, scarcely any quadrupeds can be admitted, or would
exist with any degree of comfort to themselves. This creature has,
however, by keeping his master company, I trust, obtained so perfect an
ear and taste for music, that no one who sees his behaviour, can doubt
for a moment of the pleasure he takes in hearing Mr. Bertoni play and
sing: for as soon as he sits down to the instrument, Columbo begins
shaking his wings, perches on the piano-forte, and expresses the most
indubitable emotions of delight. If however he or any one else strike a
note false, or make any kind of discord upon the keys, the dove never
fails to shew evident tokens of anger and distress; and if teized too
long, grows quite enraged; pecking the offender's legs and fingers in
such a manner, as to leave nothing less doubtful than the sincerity of
his resentment. Signora Cecilia Giuliani, a scholar of Bertoni's, who
has received some overtures from the London theatre lately, will, if she
ever arrives there, bear testimony to the truth of an assertion very
difficult to believe, and to which I should hardly myself give credit,
were I not witness to it every morning that I chuse to call and confirm
my own belief. A friend present protested he should feel afraid to touch
the harpsichord before so nice a critic; and though we all laughed at
the assertion, Bertoni declared he never knew the bird's judgment fail;
and that he often kept him out of the room, for fear of his affronting
of tormenting those who came to take musical instructions. With regard
to other actions of life, I saw nothing particular in the pigeon, but
his tameness, and strong attachment to his master: for though never
winged, and only clipped a very little, he never seeks to range away
from the house or quit his master's service, any more than the dove of
Anacreon:

While his better lot bestows
Swee