“_Trut, turrut, phub, phub, bush!_—This was the air, Mr. _Hummings_, you shall hear it——_trut, turrut, phub, phub, bush_:—the girl rising from her melancholy attitude, danced till the sweat ran down to the hem of her scarlet petticoat; and after I had presented her with a bit of money, became so lively as to strip herself like King _David_, and danced like a _Heinel_. I can assure you, Mr. _Hummings_, I drove away the evil spirit, and cured her of her tarantulism that night. “Not unlike this, is a fact recorded by the divine _Homer_. _Ulysses_ had a large rent made in his thigh by a wild boar,—a terrible animal, Mr. _Hummings_:—well, and what happen’d?—why, he only sent for the town-waits, and after the first bar or two were play’d, the blood stopp’d; and as the fiddles proceeded, the wound contracted, and by the time they had finished _Alley Croaker_, _Moggy Lauder_, and _A lovely Lass to a Fryar came_, (which are all antient _Greek_ tunes, sir,) the wound was quite healed, and the cicatrix as smooth as the back of my hand.” During this conversation, an unfortunate accident had happened near us. One of the performers on the hammer and iron by a fall had broken his leg. A surgeon was sent for with all dispatch, but Mr. _Hummings_ said I had as well try the effect of the bassoon upon him; and pointing to me, told the people that they need seek no farther, for I was superior to any surgeon. Upon this, untying my green bag, the man cry’d out, he begg’d no instruments might be used. “No, (says I,) none but a musical instrument.” So I began with a gentle blast, and played and sung alternately,—“_You’ll ne’er go the sooner to the Stygian Ferry. Let not your noble spirits be cast down, but drink, drink, drink, and be merry._”—“Give me some ale, (cries the wounded man) I like this, Doctor.” Afterward I blew till I nearly had burst my cheeks, and then sung, _If ’tis joy to wound a lover_; but the bone would not knit:—indeed I could not make it knit at all—and I don’t believe, as Mr. _Hummings_ said, that if Dr. _Mus_ himself, and all the musicians of Britain, fiddlers, violoncellos, double violoncellos, trumpets, and trumpet-marinos, together with every _Maestro di Capella_ in _Italy_ had been present, they could have made this bone knit—which, I suppose, was owing to the scorbutic habit of body of the patient; indeed, Mr. _Hummings_ attributed it entirely to this cause; for the blood stopped before I had finished the first song. YORK.