We have heard much of the sagacity of the elephant; of those qualities which Dugald Stewart places far above mere instinct (namely, memory and forecaste), which he possesses; but we never knew until lately, that an elephant had an "ear for music!" But it appears that there was at Mayence, in 1811, an elephant who was a great lover of sweet sounds. The musicians of the city treated him with a concert of instrumental music, which had a very powerful effect upon him. He expressed his delight by frequently flapping his great leather-apron ears, and rolling from side to side. A solo upon a horn almost transported him. He "put himself in motion," beat time with his trunk, and expressed his approval of the performance by the distinct but subdued emission of vocal applause. Think of an elephant applauding at the opera, or one of Jenny Lind's concerts!
It will have been observed, by those who have read the recent speeches of a celebrated American orator and statesman, with what beautiful simplicity and force brief passages or phrases from the Bible come in aid of his eloquence. And well would it be if these qualities were studied more by our public speakers from that good "Book of books." Sir William Jones expressed his opinion that the Bible contained "more true sublimity, more exquisite beauty, more pure morality, more important history, and finer strains of eloquence and poetry, than could be collected from all other books, in whatever language or age they might have been written." Fisher Ames and Patrick Henry, pre-eminent American orators, did not hesitate to go further, and declare, that "no man ever did or ever could become truly eloquent, without being a constant reader of the Bible, and an admirer of the purity and sublimity of its language."
If the following amusing circumstance had been narrated in the pages of the veracious historian, Diedrich Knickerbocker, it would have been set down to the credit of a fertile fancy on the part of that illustrious historian, rather than believed as a fact. But the occurrence here detailed is a veritable one, and happened many years ago in the county of York, Pennsylvania. It is a forcible illustration of that undoubted and undoubting Dutch honesty which made New Amsterdam so famous in the olden time.
It seems, from the record, that there were two early German settlers, in the western part of the county, whose names were Peter —— and John ——. Peter had increased the size of his farm, by annexing to it a small tract of land adjoining, and he lacked about a hundred dollars of the sum which it was necessary to pay for his new acquisition. He called upon his neighbor John, to borrow the amount. John consented at once, and going into another room, he brought out an old bread-basket, and counted down the desired number of dollars; and then the two sat down to two large earthen mugs of cider and as many pipes of tobacco. After smoking over the matter for a while, it occurred to Peter that in similar transactions he had seen or heard something like a note passing between the borrower and lender, and he suggested as much to John. The lender assented to the propriety of such a course; paper, pen, and ink, were produced; and between the two a document was concocted, stating that John had loaned Peter one hundred dollars, which Peter would repay to John in "tree mont's." This Peter signed; and thus far the two financiers made the thing "all regular, and ship-shape."
But at this point a difficulty presented itself. They both knew that notes were made in the operation of borrowing and lending, which they had witnessed; but neither of them had observed what disposition was made of the document: neither could tell whether it was for the borrower or the lender to take charge of the paper. Here was a dilemma! At last a bright idea struck John: "You haves de money to pay, Peter, so you must take dis paper, so as you can see as you haf to pay it." This was conclusive: the common sense of the thing was unanswerable; and Peter pocketed the money and his own note, so "as he could see as he haf to pay it!"
Three months passed over; and punctually to the day appeared Peter, and paid over the promised sum to John. This being done, the mugs and pipes were again brought out. After puffing awhile, Peter produced the note, and handed it to John, with the remark: "Now, John, you must take de note, so as you can see the money haf been paid!"
It strikes us that this incident is only second to the "balancing of the books" by weighing, passing receipts, and mulcting the constable in the amount of costs, as recorded by the sage historian of Manahatta.