The beauty of the evening drew many from their dwellings to enjoy it in the open air, and others whom thrift or need forbade to suspend longer their occupations, resumed them with fresh vigor—a murmur of voices, mingled with other sounds of busy life, softened and blended by distance, found its way into the open windows of the apartment. At intervals, a faint and distant strain of music was heard, at first scarcely perceptible, and which each one might have attributed to imagination as it occasioned no remark; but on the breeze freshening the sounds drew nearer, and at length a strange and beautiful melody was poured forth, melancholy though delicious, which drew an exclamation of surprise and delight from the whole party. “Oh, what is it!” exclaimed Judith; “what can it be, and where does it come from?” as a sensation almost amounting to superstition stole over her. “It sounds,” said the father, “almost like the music which I’ve heard many a time, when I was before the mast, from some of the big churches in foreign parts, as it came over the water, whilst I kept watch on deck of a moonlight night, when the vessel was near port.” Here the old gentleman arousing, cried out, “I’ve been asleep, I declare—what a beautiful dream I’ve had. I dreamed I was in the New Jerusalem, and was walking by the side of the river, where was the Tree of Life, with twelve manner of fruits hanging from its branches. I heard the angels with their golden harps—though somehow I couldn’t see them—why, there it is again!” Here a swell of wild harmony filled the room, prolonged and varied for a moment, and dying away in a low wail. Judith felt her eyes fill with tears as the strain ceased, and looking in the direction where George was sitting, exclaimed, “Oh, it comes from that window! I know it does! I thought so all the time.” George now spoke—“Well, come let us see if we can find it.” On her approach, as he sought her hand to draw her to the window, she drew back, saying she must get the light; on bringing which, a long, slender box of polished wood was discovered, filling the space in the window, which was opened just wide enough to admit it. The sounds were now found to proceed from strings stretched across its upper surface, (which was carved and gilded,) and fastened at each end by pegs of ivory and brass. The delighted girl asked in wonder— “What is it? Where did it come from? Whose is it?” The latter of which interrogatories George answered by pointing to her name carved at full length at one end, his own initials, in very small characters, appearing beneath.