tory
of this person, which experience affords us. I reflected on the
alliance which commonly subsists between ignorance and the practice
of agriculture, and indulged myself in airy speculations as to the
influence of progressive knowledge in dissolving this alliance, and
embodying the dreams of the poets. I asked why the plough and the hoe
might not become the trade of every human being, and how this
trade might be made conducive to, or, at least, consistent with the
acquisition of wisdom and eloquence.

Weary with these reflections, I returned to the kitchen to perform some
household office. I had usually but one servant, and she was a girl
about my own age. I was busy near the chimney, and she was employed near
the door of the apartment, when some one knocked. The door was opened by
her, and she was immediately addressed with "Pry'thee, good girl, canst
thou supply a thirsty man with a glass of buttermilk?" She answered
that there was none in the house. "Aye, but there is some in the dairy
yonder. Thou knowest as well as I, though Hermes never taught thee, that
though every dairy be an house, every house is not a dairy." To
this speech, though she understood only a part of it, she replied
by repeating her assurances, that she had none to give. "Well then,"
rejoined the stranger, "for charity's sweet sake, hand me forth a cup
of cold water." The girl said she would go to the spring and fetch it.
"Nay, give me the cup, and suffer me to help myself. Neither manacled
nor lame, I should merit burial in the maw of carrion crows, if I laid
this task upon thee." She gave him the cup, and he turned to go to the
spring.

I listened to this dialogue in silence. The words uttered by the person
without, affected me as somewhat singular, but what chiefly rendered
them remarkable, was the tone that accompanied them. It was wholly new.
My brother's voice and Pleyel's were musical and energetic. I had fondly
imagined, that, in this respect, they were surpassed by none. Now my
mistake was detected. I cannot pretend to communicate the impression
that was made upon me by these accents, or to depict the degree in which
force and sweetness were blended in them. They were articulated with a
distinctness that was unexampled in my experience. But this was not all.
The voice was not only mellifluent and clear, but the emphasis was so
just, and the modulation so impassioned, that it seemed as if an heart
of stone could not fail of being moved