ndeed, in common
hands, it would be of less use than the commonest instrument, because
it requires frequent--more than daily--tuning, and would therefore be
of no advantage to a man with no ear. Unless the strings were in
strict unison with the pipes, the discordance would be unbearable, and
as this in the open air can hardly be the case for many hours
together, they have to be rectified many times in the course of a
week. As might be reasonably supposed, these instruments are
comparatively few. When set to slow melodies, the flageolet taking the
air, and the piano a well-arranged accompaniment, the effect is really
charming, and, there is little reason to doubt, is found as profitable
to the producer as it is pleasing to the hearer. They are to be met
with chiefly at the west end of the town, and on summer evenings
beneath the lawyers' windows in the neighbourhood of some of the Inns
of Court.

9. The hurdy-gurdy player. We have placed this genius last, because,
though essentially a most horrid grinder, he, too, is in some sort a
performer. In London, there may be said to be two classes of
them--little hopping, skipping, jumping, reeling Savoyard or Swiss
urchins, who dance and sing, and grind and play, doing, like Caesar,
four things at once, and whom you expect every moment to see rolling
on the pavement, but who continue, like so many kittens, to pitch on
their feet at last, notwithstanding all their antics--and men with
sallow complexions, large dark eyes, and silver ear-rings, who stand
erect and tranquil, and confer a dignity, not to say a grace, even
upon the performance of the hurdy-gurdy. The boys for the most part do
not play any regular tune, having but few keys to their instruments,
often not even a complete octave. The better instruments of the adult
performers have a scale of an octave and a half, and sometimes two
octaves, and they perform melodies and even harmonies with something
like precision, and with an effect which, to give it its due praise,
supplies a very tolerable caricature of the Scotch bagpipes. These
gentry are not much in favour either with the genuine lovers of music
or the lovers of quiet, and they know the fact perfectly well. They
hang about the crowded haunts of the common people, and find their
harvest in a vulgar jollification, or an extempore 'hop' at the door
of a suburban public-house on a summer night. There are a few
old-women performers on this hybrid machine, one of whom is