Miss Seymours hear it, you tell me. She does not admire it, as one of the lovers of harmony might. Oh no; she feels it in her very soul—it awakens every sensibility—it plays upon the chords of her overheated imagination—it fills her eyes with tears, and strengthens and excites the passions, which it appears to soothe and to compose. There is nothing which the power of music cannot effect, when it is thus heard. Your Calantha feels it to a dangerous excess. Let me see her, and I will sing to her till the chaste veil of every modest feeling is thrown aside, and thoughts of fire dart into her bosom, and loosen every principle therein. Oh I would trust every thing to the power of melody. Calantha is fond of dancing too, I hear; and dancing is the order of the night. This is well; and once, though she saw me not amidst the crowd, I marked her, as she lightly bounded the gayest in the circle, from the mere excess of the animal spirits of youth. Now Miss Sey-
