Sir Everard Home found that the effect of the higher notes of the pianoforte upon the great _lion_ in Exeter ’Change, was only to excite his attention, which was very great, as he remained silent and motionless. But no sooner were the flat notes sounded, than he sprang up, attempted to break loose, lashed his tail, uttered the deepest yells, and seemed so furious and enraged as to frighten the ladies. Franzius says, “the _tiger_ cannot endure the sound of drums, which maketh him run mad, and tear himself to pieces.” Valmont de Bomare saw, at the fair of St. Germain, _cats_ turned musicians; their performance being announced as the “Mewing Concert.” In the centre, was an ape beating time; and some cats were arranged on each side of him, with music before them on the stalls. At a signal from the ape, they regulated their mewing to sad or lively strains. _Seals_ have a most delicate sense of hearing, and delight in musical sounds; a fact not unknown to the ancients. Sir Walter Scott says, “Rude Heiskar’s seals, through surges dark, Will long pursue the minstrel’s bark.” Laing, in his “Voyage to Spitzbergen,” states, that a numerous audience of seals would surround the vessel and follow it for miles when a violin was played on deck, as was often the case. Music has been resorted to as a means of attracting rats, mice, and other mischievous animals, from out of their abodes. In the “Magazine of Natural History,” it is stated, that the steward of a ship, infested with rats, used to play some lively airs on a flute after he had baited his traps and placed them near the rat holes. The music, we are told, attracted the rats, who entered the traps unconscious of that danger, which, without this allurement, they would have instinctively avoided. In this way, it is said, the steward bagged from fifteen to twenty rats in about three hours. The _mouse_ is no less pleased with music. “I have seen,” says a writer on this subject, “several mice regularly come out of their holes and run about a school-room, whenever the boys were singing psalms.” An officer, confined in the Bastile, at Paris, begged to be allowed to play on his lute, to soften his confinement by its harmonies. Shortly afterwards, when playing on the instrument, he was much astonished to see a number of mice frisking out of their holes, and many spiders descending from their webs, and congregating round him while he continued the music. Whenever he ceased, they dispersed; whenever he played again, they re-appeared. He soon had a far more numerous, if not a more respectable audience, amounting in all to about a hundred mice and spiders.