ike the spirit of God over the face of the deep.
Here, as on a beautiful instrument, the spirit touched the keys, and
thought, like music, came forth; and here were impressed indelibly ideas
of the vast universe without, of time and eternity; yea, even of the
Infinite and Transcendent,--of God. Hushed in the silence of prayer,
here the soul brooded as a dove above its nest; and here in moments of
temptation and repentance, it argued, reasoned, prayed, implored the
inferior powers that rebelled or recanted beneath. With what sublime
majesty it ruled and swayed the subjects that owned its imperial
dominion; and how it touched heaven on the one hand for pity, and earth
on the other in power! And when the turbulent passions raged and
stormed, it soothed and quelled their rebellion; and then, in recompense
to itself, it went out and up towards the celestials, and joined its
emancipated sisters before the great white throne, and drank in peace
and the blessedness of calm from the silences and worship of Heaven.
Where is that soul now? Whither has it gone? Silent is the instrument,
just crumbling to inevitable decay. But where in the boundless ocean of
space is the deathless spirit that once ruled it in majesty, and drew
from it music whose echoes roll through eternity? And how has science
mapped and parcelled it, like a dead planet. Here is the "island of
Reil," here the "pons Varolii"; here is the "arbor vitae"; and here is
the "subarachnoid space"; and here that wonderful contrivance of the
great Designer that regulates the arterial supplies. I lift my hat
reverentially and whisper, _Laudate_!

Well, the doctor knew how much I appreciated him. He was not nervous,
therefore, in broaching the subject.

"We have come to see you, sir, about a concert."

"A what?" I said.

"A concert," he replied, in a little huff. "They have concerts every
winter over at Labbawally, and at Balreddown, and even at Moydore; and
why shouldn't we?"

I thought a little.

"I always was under the impression," I said, "that a concert meant
singers."

"Of course," they replied.

"Well, and where are you to get singers here? Are you going to import
again those delectable harridans that illustrated the genius of Verdi
with rather raucous voices a few weeks ago?"

"Certainly not, sir," they replied in much indignation. "The boys here
can do a little in that way; and we can get up a chorus amongst the
school-children; and--and--"

"And the doc