hands abstained from touching what was inside.
For, twenty snakes, of various lines and sizes,
raised their flat heads and tried to escape.

"I told you," said Vivier blandly, "that there
was nothing liable to duty. Snakes, thank
Heaven, enter France duty-free!"* And after
caressing his imported reptiles (he was as fond
of serpents as of dogs and cats), he closed the
lid of the box, muttering, " These douaniers on
the Belgian frontier will never believe what a
traveller tells them. One of these days they
will be devoured by wild beasts. That's a
matter of certainty."

* Vipers paid duty, and may pay duty still. But
Vivier might plead that if vipers are snakes in
common parlance, snakes certainly are not vipers.

But the most astounding of Vivier's jokes
(because it required, to carry it out, months of
patience and personal sacrifice) is the trick he
played the proprietor of a house in which he
occupied apartments.

This " propriétaire," who would suffer no
animals to lodge in his property, had given
notice to the cornist that he must get rid of a
dog, a cat, and a raven, which happened to be
his pets for the time being. Vivier appeared
to yield. He bade good-by, with considerable
regret, to both his furred and his feathered
favourites.

Some time afterwards, several of the tenants
complained to the porter and the landlord, of
being awakened in the night and at break of
day by a strange sort of moaning, which seemed
to proceed from Vivier's rooms. This sound, of
which no one could give an exact description,
sometimes surprised them by day. An American,
who came to the house, told the landlord
the noise was like the lowing of buffaloes. " I
am perfectly acquainted with the buffalo's
voice," he said, " having hunted buffaloes in the
Rocky Mountains; and I assure you, you have
a buffalo amongst your tenants."

"A buffalo in my house, up four flights of
stairs! You are dreaming," replied the landlord.
"The noise is simply the curious sounds
which Vivier amuses himself with drawing from
his horn."

Six months elapsed. At last, the voice of the
buffalo, according to some, the sound of the horn,
according to others, became intolerable; and
the landlord determined to see with his own
eyes what really was the truth of the case.

He rang at Vivier's door, and was requested
by his tenant to walk into the dining-room.
After the usual compliments, the propriétaire
was approaching the mysterious subject, when
a protracted and terrible bellowing was heard in
the next room.

"Mon Dieu!" said the landlord. "What
have you got there?"

"In my drawing-room?" asked Vivier
carelessly.

"Certainly, monsieur; in your drawing-
room."

"It is a young cow, monsieur."

"A young cow in my house! Infamous! I
give you warning to quit, monsieur; and you
will send away the filthy creature immediately."
"Gently, monsieur; that's not so very easy."
The heifer, which had grown too big to walk
down-stairs, was removed through the window
with considerable difficulty. Vivier had never
trusted a soul with his long-cherished secret.
He had carried the calf to his room, in the
dead of the night, when it was only a few days
old; and he had carefully tended it up to the
day when his landlord, who would permit no
dog or cat, discovered that his house was
inhabited by horned cattle.

The kettle-drum, with the flute and the lyre,
are the characteristic instruments of antiquity.
Kettle-drums were in use amongst the primitive
populations of India, and still remain one of
their favourite instruments. The Hebrews
employed them (under the name of timbrels) in
their religious ceremonies, as well as to celebrate
a victory, or to honour any great personage.

Sound the loud timbrel o'er Egypt's dark sea;
Jehovah hath triumph'd, his people are free.

When Jephthah " came to Mizpeh unto his
house, his daughter came out to meet him with
timbrels and dances." Kettle-drums were also
once in high favour at various European courts,
where they were the indispensable accompaniment
of trumpets. The kettle-drummer's art
was then of the highest importance, and it took
no less than six years' practice to form a
drummer who deserved the title of artist. Several
timbrellers acquired a celebrity which has not
yet altogether passed away. The city of Strasbourg
glorified itself on having given birth to
the " timbalier" Willig. The town presented
him with a rich costume, and allowed him an
income worthy of his high reputation. But,
with the progress of music, the kettle-drum has
ceased to be a solo instrument, and the drummer
no longer excites enthusiastic applause. Nevertheless,
at the London Exhibition (1862) there
were a pair of silver kettle-drums, valued at
twelve hundred pounds. They were rumoured
(among their French beholders) to have been
made for an English amateur, who cheered himself
by performing on them in his fits of spleen
and melancholy.

The kettle-drummer is a man of middle
height, of delicate complexion, and nervous-
bilious temperament. His pale and smooth-
shaven countenance bears the traces of reflection.
A vague feeling of uneasiness is mingled with
the expression of his sharp and penetrating
glance. The responsibility which weighs upon
him in the orchestra, the confusion which would
arise in certain cases from a rap on the kettle-
drum misapplied, the impossibility of concealing
the mistake from the audience, the consequences
which might ensue in a scene whose effect
depends on a single note applied at exactly the
proper moment, and lastly, the sustained attention
required to read the kettle-drum's part, in
which the bars to be counted and the rests of
various length, are extremely numerous—all this
gives the kettle-drummer that anxious