THE MEMORY OF INSTINCT. 355 and, with a Bell in one hand and a proclamation in the other, proceeded forthwith to fright the Town from its propriety. Weary and wet through, we returned to the Station-house, and there, the very first thing that we beheld was the little Wretch herself, draggled from nose to tail, couched amidst our own portmanteaux and carpet-bags in the luggage room, and turning upon us a glance from those eyes, (as large and as soft as a gazelle's,) that spoke volumes! It was a wonderful example of instinctive memory. The creature had never been in Malines before, scarcely five minutes had she rested at the Station-house, before we so incautiously suffered her to follow us, through the gorgeous intricacy of these Brabantine streets, and yet she retraced a labyrinth which (without the clue of an Ariadne) might have puzzled Dædalus himself, with a promptness and accuracy which the Bard of Memory would have loved to record. "Hark! the Bee winds her small but mellow horn, Blithe to salute the sunny smile of Morn; O'er thymy Downs she bends her busy course, 'Tis Noon, 'tis Night, that eye so finely wrought 356 MEANS AND END. With conscious truth retrace the mazy clue Of Summer Scents, that charmed her as she flew ?— Liege, November 17th, 1844. IN traversing the high-ways and by-ways of Human Life, and gathering such share of their good things as the circumstance of Genius, Rank, or Fortune, may place within our reach, how little do we reflect on the expenditure of time and the forfeiture of repose, the amount of Toil, and the drain upon Talent which contribute to the elaboration of our every day enjoyments. The Taste, the Smell, Eye, Ear, and Hand, contribute their faculties to feed the appetite or delight the intellect, to embellish, to refine, or to enliven existence as matters of course; and as matters of course we receive their tribute. Pride deigns not, Selfishness will not, and Indifference cannot investigate the numerous secret fountains from which the broad channel of daily Gratification expects or exacts its supplies-supplies, whose actual or conventional value Habit is apt to depreciate as much as Privation to overrate. To our daily estimate of daily pleasures the words of the Poet are more applicable than we generally imagine. THE CARILLONS. "Ask for what end the Heavenly bodies shine? Earth for whose use ? Pride answers, 'Tis for mine: For me kind Nature wakes her genial pow'r, Suckles each herb, and spreads out ev'ry flow'r ; 357 ESSAY ON MAN. What thinks the coronetted Dame about the bevy of overworked and fevered damsels in their lamplit Attic whose cheeks have been robbed of their bloom, whose eyes of slumber, and whose limbs of rest by that night-long toil demanded for the forced production of her Gala Robe? what deems the Gourmand of tempestuous seas, and shattered barks, of the peril and perhaps the loss of human life by which that unctuous piece of the Turbot fin embalmed in Lobster sauce attained his watery palate?—and how little did I reflect (when yesterday enchanted with the Carillons of Saint Rombaud's, I listened as to some first rate performer on the plastic keys of the pianoforte)-how little did I reflect that every note of that Aerial Harmony which, floating from the Cathedral Belfroy over the streets of Malines, converted the whole City into one vast Concertroom, was the result of painful-aye agonizing human Labour! How little did I think that 358 PAINS OF MUSIC. those "Corals for grown Gentlemen,”—(as Dr. Burney so happily terms them)—were literally produced under that dread primal curse upon all Human Effort," In the sweat of thy face shalt thou eat bread till thou return unto the ground." Nothing important, or beautiful, or admirable, to be achieved without Pain! The erudite Historian of Music thus mentions the labours of a Carilloneur, whose distinguished genius would seem to have merited a less toilsome, or at least a more honourable employment. "If M. Pothoff had been put into Dr. Dominecetti's hottest human caldron for an hour, he could not have perspired more violently than he did after a quarter of an hour of this furious exercise. He stripped to his shirt, put on his nightcap, and trussed up his sleeves for this execution; and he said he was forced to go to bed the instant it was over, in order to prevent his catching cold, as well as to recover himself; he being usually so much exhausted as to be utterly unable to speak!”— Ostend, 18th November, 1844. WE should have quitted our very comfortable quarters, in the Hotel de Flandres, at Ostend, with considerable reluctance, but for the nearing prospect of our long abandoned but ever beloved Home. The day was most propitious, the passage THE CATHEDRAL CITY. 359 expeditious; and any little ennui or anxiety we might chance to experience, while on board, was pleasantly mitigated, if not thoroughly relieved, by the interesting amusement we derived from a most excellent round of cold boiled Beef, and a tankard of unimpeachable Porter. How different was my situation, when, five years back, I approached, from a similar Tour, and in the very same direction, the gay, hospitable, picturesque Harbour which is now my Home! I was then not only a Pilgrim, but a Stranger; I am now a Neighbour and a Citizen. I was then perfectly new to the "Sea Change," which I was destined to suffer, but now I am as thoroughly habituated to its romantic character and exciting incidents as if I had resided beneath these Silvery Rampires all my life-time ;-for I was born in a mighty old Minster Town,- Where the old Rooks cawed, and the Jackdaws chicked, And enormous Trees, in their Druid array, Wrapt up the deep Aisles from the dazzle of Day; As the Sunlight or Moonlight glittered thereon ;— While the Weathercocks whirled, in the azure sky, And the midnight Owl, from the TANTHONY TOWER, |