On their way from the temple school, Correliana invited the padre and members of the corps to pay a twilight visit to her garden. Passing through her father’s into her own garden, while yet the upward slant of the sun’s rays reached above the Andean peaks, the party were surprised and startled by the winged hoverings of a cloud of birds of every feather, accompanied with the vocal salutation,—“Well, my goodness gracious, if here ain’t the padre! well, I declare, aha, aha!”—pronounced in variations of tone peculiar to the raven, starling, and parrot. With a confused fluttering, twittering, and tonguester terms of speech, they with encouraged familiarity, alighted wherever a perch was offered. Correliana tried to still their clamors by calling upon the leaders, but only effected a change, all uniting in the word “Musick!” To stay their noisy importunities she beckoned her visitors to be seated, and then under the escort of her feathered choristers she brought forth an instrument of music which Captain Greenwood had presented to her as a parting gift. On opening the case she presented the instrument to the curators of sound, who were known to be excellent pianists. From its resemblance to an accordion they started back with horror, without touching it, which caused the beaming face of Correliana to become overshadowed with disappointment. But the humorous smiles of the others relieved her from sudden apprehension, by suggesting, as the cause of their dismay, some foregone amusing event. In explanation, M. Hollydorf described the mechanical affinity of the accordion with the primitive bagpipes, which to the modern musician were a nightmare revelation of the past ages of discord. “Except in its improved capacity of breathing sweet harmony in the hands of an experienced musician, the accordion has the same monotonous drone of its ancestral relative. The source of Signor Pettynose and Herr Lindenhoff’s chagrin had its origin on our voyage hitherward from the annoyance caused by one in the hands of the _Tortuga’s_ cook, which they purchased and threw overboard, and its ghostly resuscitation in your hands has given rise to their expressions of horror. I perceive that the instrument in your hands only bears an outward resemblance to the accordion, and the moment its tones are revealed, I am sure my impressions will be sustained, and the artists will be more enthusiastically retentive in its praise, than they have been in pantomimic rejection.”