Paganini was the greatest master of the violin the world ever produced. On one occasion he was solicited to appear in Fcrarra, Austria. As is veil known, Paganini wa not a handsome man. Tall and bony, his ungainly forin, and awkward shuffling steps were often a subject of sport. Just previous to his appearanco in Ferrara he had been very ill, and when he camo on the stage, he looked more like a maniac than the renowned Paganini. His ill-fitting oluthes hanging loosely njion nis emaeiated form, his hair uneouibed, Lis fuce soiled by the splashes of mud, which had lallen on it during his hasty ride - this was the appearance of the man who calinly stood on the stage and looked upon that ari.stoeratio audience. A mo ment of silence - then a storm of hisses and groans greeted him ; but abovc all rose a few cheers for "Paganini." Thore he stood, his beloved instrument in his hands. His bent form straightened, his dark eyes flashed. Slowly he raised his violin and drew the bow across the striiur. Instantly all was silent. As he playrd, it was as if angels saug again on earth. All sat entranced, as the wonderful man brought forth such exquisito sounds as were never before heard. Clear and sweet feil the music ; songs of birds, rippling of waters, the low, sad wail of the wind among the pines. Soft and sweet came the sounds, now louder and clearer, till yuu hesr the tüundor's peal, the wind'. wild roar, the rushing mighty wators; agaiu he playod soft and low, gently, more gently, till with one long graceful sweep ut' the bow, he ended with a long drawn wail that seemcd like the cry of a lost soul. For a moment the audience sat spell bound. Then carne such a burst of applause as made the house shake. Through it all, Paganini stood, his tall form held stiffly erect. At last with flashing eyes, and dilated nostrils, he again raisel his bow. Instantly a mighty stillness feil upon all. He drew his bow across the strings. E-u-a-w! E-u-a-w! Eu-a-wü were the sounds that came forth. "This " he said "is for those who hisscd at me ; the örst was for those who love me; Farewell !" Hewasgone: and nothing could induce hiin to ever again enter that city. This wonderful instrument is capable of producing every sound conceivable, from the sound that makes you think that some of the strings of that violin are surely holding a midnight serenade on the back fence, to that which is grand, glorioua ruusic. You listen : the violin fairly talks to you, soothing the angry passións, telling you of hopes and fears, joys and sorrows.