He went on, and the grandfather heard him out, charmed into silence by the novelty and ingenuity of the performance. When he had played the air, which he did with great correctness of imitation, in the style of David Williams, the old gentleman, turning to him with a smile, said--Well, my good boy, you have done your part, and though your harp, I confess, has disappointed me, your art has made up for it. This is the first time I ever knew the harp was a wind instrument, and if the Jews have the credit of inventing your machine, you have the credit of making music out of it. Then, addressing himself to Colonel Wilson, he observed, that the exact manner, in which he had imitated the style of David Williams, brought to his recollection Ælian’s anecdote of the famous Polygnotus of Thasos, whose magnificent paintings were so correctly copied in miniature by Dionysius of Colophon, as to preserve the whole spirit and excellence of the original in all its due proportions, though upon the smallest scale. Having examined the Jew’s harp, he observed, that this was one more instrument than he had ever seen, or heard of before, and asked who taught him. Upon his replying that he had taught himself, he turned to Wilson with an air of triumph, and said--This proves what I have always maintained, that nature is the best instructress. In some things perhaps, said the Colonel. I presume, not in all. I am not sure, said De Lancaster, that exception should be made of any. John had a master for the harp: he made nothing of it: he takes up that paltry scrap of iron, and makes admirable music. Such is the difference betwixt the natural emanations of genius, and the laboured efforts, that are extorted from the pupil by the lessons of a teacher. John, who probably foresaw something coming forward, which he was not interested to partake of, now stept up to his grandfather, and asked leave to ride over to Glen-Morgan, and pass a day there.--Why to pass a day?--Because he would go over to Denbigh, and execute a little commission, which the poor soldier on his death-bed had requested him to fulfil.--Of what nature was that commission?--Simply to deliver a little token to the daughter of Captain Jones, which that officer had entrusted to the care of his faithful servant the soldier, but which the poor fellow did not live to execute.--What was the little token he was to carry?--Pray, don’t ask me that, said the youth, and above all things don’t let my mother know a word about the matter. It would be very much to the honour of the poor soldier, if I told you all; but I hope you won’t require me to do that.--On no account, replied De Lancaster, will I make any such demand upon you. If you will take my coach, ’tis at your service; if you had rather ride, let Ben the groom attend you, and give your orders accordingly. John took the hand of his grandfather, kissed it, nodded with a smile to the colonel, and hastened out of the room.