... I was requested to call upon a lad, in the Royal Academy of Music. So little do the Londoners know of their neighbours, that I was misdirected to the music-rooms, Hanover-square, instead of the Academy. However, I heard at a distance some musical sounds ; I thought a bear was dancing in the street. Proceeding to the spot, I found the place I was in search of. Having rapped at the door, for the life of me I could not recollect the name of the boy. " Did he sing or play?" I was asked. I could not tell. I might take a peep into the different rooms, and see if I could find him. In a large apartment were near twenty pupils, strumming upon as many piano-fortes, producing an incessant jingle. In the singing-room they were solfaing in every kind of voice. Such a Babel I never wish to hear again. We then visited the violin department, the horrid scraping of which I could not endure. The horns were in a double closet, the oboes and flutes in the garret, and the trumpets in a cockloft under the skylight. In a small out-office in the yard the drummer was at work, and near him the trombone was darting his instrument down a long entry. In returning I was mightily struck by a loud voice practising a shake shut up in a shower-bath. My youth I could not find, but, just as I was departing, the porter bethought himself of the fagotto, when lo! on opening a door, I beheld the object of my search on the cellar-steps, pumping on his bassoon with all his might in the dark.