Before I set forwards on my travels, I chose to change my name from _Collier_ to _Coglioni_ or _Collioni_, as more euphonious; and on the first of April, having torn myself from the arms of my weeping wife, and four small children, I put my bassoon into a green-bag, and slung it across my shoulders; my large violoncello was laid on my knee as I sat in the waggon, and my clothes, with a bottle of brandy and some biscuits, were pack’d up in the viol-case. As I was neither patronized, nor franked on my tour by any Dilettanti Lord, I must confess the low state of my circumstances, and the poverty in which I had left my family, cast a damp on my spirits; but this was always soon dissipated by an air on the violoncello, and by recollecting the great advantages my travels, to enquire into the state of music in this island, would be to my dear native country, and the fame and glory I should acquire by the publication of my work, perhaps only inferior to that of the great Dr. _Mus_ himself. Inspir’d by taste, o’er lands and seas HE flew, Europe he saw, and Europe saw him too. Thro’ lands of singing, or of dancing slaves, Love-echoing woods, and lute-resounding waves. O while along the stream of time, that name Expanded flies, and gathers all its fame; Say, shall my little bark attendant sail, Pursue the triumph and partake the gale?— LINCOLN. Thus occasionally consoling myself, the waggon arrived at the famous and ancient city of _Lincoln_. My first visit was to a young lady of high musical acquirements. She received me with a most bewitching air, which she sang to her guittar, for she had heard of my fame at _Gotham_, and was not unapprized of my ambulatory design: her name was originally _Fernihough_, but she had long dropped the _hough_ at the end of it, as gothic and inharmonious. Thus she saluted me: “Dear Collioni, Collioni, Collioni; Dear, dear, dear, Collioni; Happy, happy, Gotham, Gotham; Gotham, Gotham, happy Gotham.” I could only bow and smile in answer to this compliment, (which indeed, tho’ very elegant, I did not conceive was above my merits,) as I had not an extempore sonnet ready made to answer it. Then taking my hand with a delightful air, she introduced me to Dr. _Dilettanti_, a most illustrious timeist; he sat musing and beating with his foot, and took hold of, and quitted my hand in the same portion of time, which he measured by the pulsations of his foot.