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the Silesian town of Neisse, which you know is built upon a river of the same name, there once lived—if we ought to put any faith in an old chronicle—a very old Musician, who for many years practised that most harmonious of all wind-instruments, the bagpipe. He lived a very quiet decent sort of life, and at first touched his pipes merely for his own amusement; but the neighbours soon discovered his merits, and in calm nights would gather in crowds under the window of his dwelling to hear his music. On these occasions he played with so much skill and taste, that old and young were charmed with his performances; and their piper never wanted a well-stored flagon and trencher. The beau of Neisse applied to him for new scores from which to serenade their mistresses in the soft twilight,—the graver citizens invited him to their feasts and festivals,—and not a bride within the limits of the township would have thought her marriage-ceremony properly performed, unless Master Wilibald had been present and played his bridal-dance on the occasion. For this very purpose he had composed a most original melody, in which the grave and gay, the mournful and brilliant, were exquisitely mingled, so as strongly to suggest the varied aspect of matrimonial life itself. A feeble idea of this wonderful composition may be gathered from the fine old German air, called ‘the Grand-