something
had vexed him; he had been told to wash his hands; and, while the little
one gave vent to the most violent bursts of temper, the father stood
as calm and quiet as the most accomplished of nurses. He merely turned
quietly to his visitor, and said, in melancholy accents: "The poor child
is cross; I do not know what to do to amuse him; I have played with him
ever since morning, and I can not stand it any longer."

"It was rather amusing," says the same writer, "to see Paganini in his
slippers doing battle with his child, who came about up to his knees.
The little one advanced boldly with his wooden sword, while the father
retired, crying out, 'Enough, enough! I am already wounded.' But it was
not enough; the young Achilles was never satisfied until his father,
completely vanquished, fell heavily on the bed."

In the early part of the present century the facilities for travel
were far less convenient than at the present time, and it was always an
arduous undertaking to one in Paganini's frail condition of health. He
was, however, generally cheerful while jolting along in the post-chaise,
and chatted incessantly as long as his voice held out. Harris tells us
that the artist was in the habit of getting out when the horses
were changed, to stretch his long limbs after the confinement of the
carriage. Often he extended his promenades when he became interested in
the town through which he was passing, and would not return till
long after the fresh horses had been harnessed, thereby causing much
annoyance to the driver. On one occasion Jehu swore, if it occurred
again, he would drive on, and leave his passenger behind, to get along
as best he could. The secretary, Harris, was enjoying a nap, and the
driver was true to his resolution at the next stopping-place, leaving
Paganini behind. This made much trouble, and a special coach had to be
sent for the enraged artist, who was found sputtering oaths in half a
dozen languages. Paganini refused to pay for the carriage, and it was
only by force of law that he reluctantly settled the bill.

His baggage was always of the plainest description; in fact, ludicrously
simple. A shabby box contained his precious Guarnerius fiddle, and
served also as a portmanteau wherein to pack his jewelry, his linen, and
sundry trifles. In addition to this he carried a small traveling-bag and
a hat-box. Mr. Harris tolls us that Paganini was in eating and drinking
exceedingly frugal. Table indulge