rikes upon his ear when the leaves, softly shaken by the evening
breeze, seem to sigh through the air, or when the tempest, bursting forth
with fury, shakes the gigantic trees that crack like reeds. "The
chirping of the birds, the cry of the wild beasts, in a word, all those
sweet, grave, or imposing voices that animate the wilderness, are so many
musical lessons, which he easily remembers." In illustration of this,
the missionary describes the singing of a Chippewa chief, and its wild
inspiration, in a manner which vividly illustrates all music of the class
of which I write.

"It was," he says, "during one of those long winter nights, so monotonous
and so wearisome in the woods. We were in a wigwam, which afforded us
but miserable shelter from the inclemency of the season. The storm raged
without; the tempest roared in the open country; the wind blew with
violence, and whistled through the fissures of the cabin; the rain fell
in torrents, and prevented us from continuing our route. Our host was an
Indian, with sparkling and intelligent eyes, clad with a certain
elegance, and wrapped majestically in a large fur cloak. Seated close to
the fire, which cast a reddish gleam through the interior of his wigwam,
he felt himself all at once seized with an irresistible desire to imitate
the convulsions of nature, and to sing his impressions. So, taking hold
of a drum which hung near his bed, he beat a slight rolling, resembling
the distant sounds of an approaching storm; then, raising his voice to a
shrill treble, which he knew how to soften when he pleased, he imitated
the whistling of the air, the creaking of the branches dashing against
one another, and the particular noise produced by dead leaves when
accumulated in compact masses on the ground. By degrees the rollings of
the drum became more frequent and louder, the chants more sonorous and
shrill, and at last our Indian shrieked, howled, and roared in a most
frightful manner; he struggled and struck his instrument with
extraordinary rapidity. It was a real tempest, to which nothing was
wanting, not even the distant howling of the dogs, nor the bellowing of
the affrighted buffaloes."

I have observed the same musical inspiration of a storm upon Arabs, who,
during their singing, also accompanied themselves on a drum. I once
spent two weeks in a Mediterranean steamboat, on board of which were more
than two hundred pilgrims, for the greater part wild Bedouins, going