a snare; or, if it might have been made one, the Lord broke it in time,
by taking away my hearing. I would not that it had been otherwise, for
while a vain imagination was fostered by the habit I have before
adverted to, this taste for music and its high gratification most
certainly elevated the mind. I do firmly believe that it is a gift from
God to man, to be prized, cherished, cultivated. I believe that the man
whose bosom yields no response to the concord of sweet sounds, falls
short of the standard to which man should aspire as an intellectual
being; and though Satan does fearfully pervert this solace of the mind
to most vile purposes, still I heartily agree with Martin Luther, that,
in the abstract, "the devil hates music."

Before I had completed my sixth year, I came under the rod of discipline
which was to fall so long and so perseveringly upon me ere I should
"hear the rod and who had appointed it." Enthusiastic in every thing,
and already passionately fond of reading, I had eagerly accepted the
offer of a dear uncle, a young physician, to teach me French. I loved
him, for he was gentle and kind, and very fond of me; and it was a great
happiness to trip through the long winding street that separated us, to
turn down by the old Bridewell, so celebrated as an architectural
curiosity, being built of dark flint stones, exquisitely chiselled into
the form of bricks, and which even then I could greatly admire, and to
take my seat on my young uncle's knee, in the large hall of his house,
where stood a very large and deep-toned organ, some sublime strain from
which was to reward my diligence, if I repeated accurately the lesson he
had appointed. Thus between love for my uncle, delight in his organ, and
a natural inclination to acquire learning, I was stimulated to
extraordinary efforts, and met the demand on my energies in a very
unsafe way. I placed my French book under my pillow every night, and
starting from repose at the earliest break of dawn, strained my sleepy