this early age in that he limited his
work to a few compositions, and these he made the most of, just as they
say Bossuet secured his reputation as the greatest preacher of his time
by a single sermon that he had polished to the point of perfection.

When fifteen years old Paganini contrived to escape from his father and
went to a musical festival at Lucca. He managed to get a hearing, was
engaged at once as a soloist, and soon after gave a concert on his own
account. In a month he had accumulated a thousand pounds in cash.

Very naturally, such a success turned the head of this lad who never
before had had the handling of money. He began to gamble, and became the
dupe of rogues--male and female--who plunged him into an abyss of wrong.
He even gambled away the "Stradivarius" that had been presented to him,
and when his money, watch and jewels were gone, his new-found friends of
course decamped, and this gave the young man time to ponder on the
vanities of life.

When he played again it was on a borrowed "Guarnerius," and after the
rich owner, himself a violinist, had heard him play, he said, "No
fingers but yours shall ever play that violin again!"

Paganini accepted the gift, and this was the violin he played for full
forty years, and which, on his death, was willed to his native city of
Genoa. There it can be seen in its sealed-up glass case.

Up to his thirtieth year Paganini continued his severe work of subduing
the violin. By that time he had sounded its possibilities, and
thereafter no one heard him play except in concert. It is told that one
man, anxious to know the secrets of Paganini's power, followed him from
city to city, watching him at his concerts, dogging him through the
streets, spying upon him at hotels. At one inn this man of curiosity had
the felicity to secure a room next to the one occupied by Paganini; and
one morning as he watched through the keyhole, he was rewarded by seeing
the master open the case where reposed the precious "Guarnerius."
Paganini lifted the instrument, held it under his chin, took up the bow
and made a few passes in the air--not a sound was heard. Then he kissed
the back of the violin, muttered a prayer, and locked the instrument in
its case.

At concert rehearsals he always played a mute instrument; and Harris,
his manager, records that for the many years he was with Paganini he
never heard him play a single note except before an audience.

I have a full-length daguer