considering the many improvements which have been made since that date, and if put in good repair, (which might easily be done, it being quite playable in its present state,) it would not disgrace the name of a Kirkman, or of any of our latest and best harpsichord makers; indeed, it is very far superior to any other instrument of the kind I ever heard.  The case is good, particularly in the inside, which is of exquisite workmanship, and beautifully ornamented with (as far as I recollect) gilt scroll work; on the keys has been bestowed a great deal of labour and curious taste.  Each of the sharps, or short keys, is composed of a number (perhaps thirty) of bits of pearl, &c., well wrought together.  On the whole it is an object well worthy of the attention of the antiquarian and the musician.

Although a stranger to Mr. Jonah Child, I feel great pleasure, while speaking on the subject, in acknowledging the very courteous reception I once met with, on calling at that gentleman’s house to see the above curiosity.

Hampstead Road.  S.A.

* * * * *

FIRE TOWERS.

(To the Editor of the Mirror.)

I perceive by a paper in your interesting little work, that the round towers so common in Scotland and Ireland, have afforded the antiquaries much room for the display of their erudition, in ascertaining the purposes for which these towers have been erected.

Now, if any of these worthy and learned gentlemen were to take a trip to Sutherlandshire, in Scotland, they would see the exact purpose for which these buildings were erected; it was merely for the purpose of hanging the church bell in, as stated by your correspondent, in No. 335, of the mirror; for there stands at present in the parish of Clyne, near Dunrobin, the seat of the most noble the Marquess of Stafford, one of the said towers with the church bell hung in it to this day, unless removed since last October, the time at which I was there.  It stands on the top of an eminence, a short distance (about fifty yards) to the west of the parish church, and is about twenty-five feet high.

A. Gael.

* * * * *

A SUMMER SCENE, BY CLAUDE.

(For the Mirror.)

  How proudly those hush’d towers receive the glow
  That mellows the gold sunset—­and the trees,
  Clasping with their deep belt the festal hills,
  Are ting’d with summer-beauty; the rich waves
  Swell out their hymn o’er shells and sweet blue flow’rs,
  And haply the pure seamaid, wandering by,
  Dips in them her soft tresses.  The calm sea,
  Floating in its magnificence, is seen
  Like an elysian isle, whose sapphire depths
  Entranc’d the Arabian poets!  In the west,
  The clouds blend their harmonious pageantry