Notwithstanding this, it may be said there are scarcely two violins alike in respect of expression of these adornments of the structure, each instrument is made to convey its own impression, or display its particular kind of beauty. There is a difference, scarcely to be measured mathematically, that in one will be suggestive of masculine strength, while in another it will be exquisite feminine grace. In none of the imitations of the master are there seen these qualities expressed in the same degree and kind. It has often been said, and there is more than a substratum of truth in the remark, that, "to copy a Stradivari successfully"--of course, in the fullest sense of the word--"the copyist must be a Stradivari himself." There might, appropriately, be an addition put to this, namely, that a man who could work up to the dizzy height of his ambition in this way, would not copy, but make originals. Another detail of the workmanship always attended to by the master himself, was that of the purfling. Much has been said of the wonderful accuracy of Stradivari's purfling and that as a purfler he stands unrivalled. This must not be taken in the widest sense, as there have been, and are living, scores and scores of makers who have cut a rut round the border of a fiddle as sharply, and inserted the three conventional lines of dark and light wood as deftly as it could be by the hand of any man, be he named Amati, Stradivari, Ruggieri, Tononi, or Montagnana. There is a degree of evenness and keenness of cutting and clean insertion beyond which it is not possible to go. But there the imitators come to a full stop. Without the inventive power which will make this curious, simple, yet wonderful little fillet, aid in giving the desired expression to the whole work, the imitator is not--as people say nowadays--in the race. The finishing of the border, the corners and the delicate and often very elaborate system of curves around the sound holes, the hollowing of the wings of these latter, and the final surfacing of both back and front, I have no doubt had Stradivari's individual attention. All the delicate and small work of the scroll, perfecting that elegant flow of line and finish of each turn of the volute, as if everything depended on the exactness of its individuality, obliterating all marks of the tooling and giving his own impress to the gouging of the shell and even the completion of the peg-box; then last and not least, the preparation and application of that pellucid envelope that was to serve two purposes, utility and enrichment of effect.