The good old gentleman was in the high road of philology, and kept steadily on--The characters of nations, said he, are to be traced in the different characters of their warlike instruments. The Cretans marched in compact and orderly phalanx to the solemn sound of the harp: the Lacedemonians rushed into battle to the high-pitched screaming notes of the shrill-toned fife; whilst the effeminate Sybarites would not move without the soft accompaniment of their melodious flutes. But which of all these instruments, said the colonel, is to cure Mrs. De Lancaster? Refer that question to Asclepiades, replied De Lancaster, and he will answer you; Asclepiades will tell you, when the citizens of Prusa were in actual insurrection, and the city on the point of being laid in ashes, how he contrived to appease the tumult, and sent them all to their homes in peace. But Mrs. De Lancaster is at home already, said Llewellyn, and peaceable enough, Heaven knows. How does the case of these rioters apply to her? The colonel saw his friend was staggered, and handsomely turned out to his relief--It is impossible, he said, to foresee what turn a case may take, therefore it is well to be armed against accidents. I should be glad if our good friend would tell us how it was that Asclepiades, whom I have no means of resorting to, contrived to disperse the mob of incendiaries at Prusa. By a song, replied the old gentleman; he dispersed them by the sweet and soothing melody of a pathetic strain, which assuaged their fury, and lulled them into peace, as an obstreperous child (for men are only children of a larger growth) is hushed to sleep by the humming of its nurse. I am perfectly satisfied, said the colonel. CHAPTER VII. _Mr. Philip De Lancaster determines to adopt the Regimen recommended by his Father._