awaken him to the dangers of a life of freedom. Freed from restraint, and relishing the delights of his new-born independence, he formed connections with other artists, whose sole abilities seemed to consist in encouraging a taste for gambling in young men of family and means, and turning the tables upon them to their own advantage. Paganini, in this manner, frequently lost the produce of several concerts in one night, and was consequently often in a state of great embarrassment. His talent soon procured fresh resources, and time passed gaily enough, alternately between good and bad fortune. He was frequently reduced, by distress, to part with his Violin. In this condition he found himself at Leghorn, and was indebted to the kindness of a French merchant, (M. Livron), a distinguished amateur, for the loan of a Violin, an excellent Guarnieri. When the concert had concluded, Paganini brought it back to its owner, when this gentleman exclaimed, “Never will I profane strings which your fingers have touched; that instrument is now yours.” This is the Violin Paganini afterwards used in all his concerts. A similar event occurred to him at Parma, but under different circumstances. Pasini, an eminent painter, and an excellent amateur performer on the Violin, had disbelieved the prodigious faculty imputed to Paganini, of playing the most difficult music at first sight, as well as if he had maturely studied it. He brought him a manuscript concerto, containing the most difficult passages, imagined almost by every performer as insurmountable, and placing in his hands an excellent instrument of Stradiuari, added, “This instrument shall be yours, if you can play, in a masterly manner, that concerto at first sight.” “If that is the case,” replied Paganini, “you may bid adieu to it,” and he forthwith, by his exquisite performance of the piece, threw Pasini into extatic admiration.