An unusual degree of innocent amusement prevailed throughout the circle on this evening of general joy, and all were more or less enlivened and cheered by its salutary effects, except Mr. More, who, in the midst of music and mirth, remained sad and melancholy; despondent reflections at times deeply disturbed his tranquillity. In the midst of these scenes of festivity, he was serious and thoughtful; gloomy ideas would in spite of himself cloud his imagination, whenever his thoughts foreboded the fear of losing the only object of his affection. The elderly gentlemen had a long consolatory conversation on the present affairs of the country, and their happy termination; the wisdom of the government and its coinciding regulations, concluding that the late peace, founded on principles of justice and honour, promised to be lasting. These festive scenes of gladness were concluded by a variety of music, both vocal and instrumental; the powerful influence of which all must acknowledge; which is alike visible in all places, and in every stage of society. And while it flings its spell over the gay abodes of pleasure, it produces likewise its sweet enchantment in the domestic dwelling. The ladies alternately played the piano, while the gentlemen assisted in singing, forming altogether a concert of melodious harmony that wakened the mind to the softest raptures, and threw its bewitching influences over the imagination, calming all former corroding sensations, and animating anew all the soft and sympathetic emotions. Music! wake thy heavenly numbers, Queen of every moving measure, When at thy voice all sorrow slumber, Sweetest source of purest pleasure! Who listens to thy varying strains, Will find their bosoms gently sooth'd, Lulled to repose all cares and pains, And waked to sympathy and love, That calms with soft persuasive air The heart to harmony and peace. If any grief yet linger there, But touch thy chords and it will cease. Who does not feel their bosoms glow, When the full choir their voices raise, To the Supreme of all below, Pour forth their song of ardent praise? Each heart by sacred impulse driven, To high exalt his glorious name, Loud hallelujahs raise to heaven, And with one voice His praise proclaim. Then music, queen of every art, O still thy matchless powers employ; Since none like thee can peace impart, And none like thee awaken joy. CHAPTER XXI. 'Tis true indeed, there's danger in delay, Then let us speed, and hasten far away; For what of fear, or what of doubts molest, When deep affection reigns within the breast.