Dr. _Dilettanti_ was so kind as to make me a present of a place in the stage coach to _Sheffield_ in my road to _York_, that I might inquire into the present state of the music of that city and cathedral. Amongst the other passengers, was a gentleman of a grave aspect; who, from his not attending to me at the inn, when I play’d a most inchanting solo on my hautboy, appear’d at first to have no ears, but on further conversation I found him a most agreeable companion. He cry’d up the ingenuity of the _Sheffield_ manufacturers, and told me of a new musical instrument, more complicate, he thought, and louder than an organ. The next day he was so good as to accompany me to hear this new organic instrument. The first thing I could observe was a number of iron pipes, and a water wheel to work the large bellows, like that organ of which there is a print in _Kempleri Musurgia_. When the wheel was in motion, I observed many of the notes higher than in any organ I had ever heard; and was told, that these ingenious people had found the only way to produce these was, by boring gun-barrels: to these a symphony was adduced by files which cut the teeth of large saws, and the mellow tones of two great hammers, which at intervals struck on large pieces of red-hot iron, made a more tremendous and affecting concert, than all the mingled whittles of _Cecilia_’s organ. Having paid a shilling to the performers of this stupendous piece of harmony, at which my grave companion seem’d much delighted, and listen’d to my remarks upon it with the greatest avidity and approbation; “Signior _Collioni_,” says he, “your observations inchant me; the most antient music, as you well explain, was made with hammers beating upon anvils, as invented by _Tubal Cain_, and practised in the shop of his successor, _Vulcan_, tho’ _Saturn_ is thought to have been the first of the _castrati_.—But this invention was not compleat, Signior _Collioni_, it was not compleat, till this excellent treble made by boring guns, and cutting saws was added.—It is now become the true antient, celebrated, long-lost, and long-deplored chromatic, which that _Heathen_, _Plato_, who had doubtless ass’s ears, expelled from his artificial commonwealth.” “Doubtless you are right in your conjectures,” reply’d I, “Mr. _Hummings_, (for that was my kind companion’s name) it was music like this, which could disenchant the moon, and make trees and stones dance _allemands_. Would you believe it, Mr. _Hummings_, I once cured a girl bit with a tarantula myself with this simple bassoon?