As a violinist Vieuxtemps possessed a wonderful staccato, both on the up and down bow. His intonation was perfect. He was fond of strong dramatic accents and contrasts. As a composer for the violin he had wider success than any one since Spohr, but while some of his works contain really fine ideas worked out with much skill, others are merely show pieces of no particular value. As a man Vieuxtemps had a gay and restless disposition. He was not easily depressed by trifles, and he enjoyed the freedom of a life of constant change and travel, and it was during his travels that most of his best compositions were written. During the last few years of his active life, after his paralytic stroke had prevented his playing, he suffered much from his inability to demonstrate to his pupils the way in which certain passages should be played. Frequent outbursts of rage ensued, of which his pupils were obliged to bear the brunt, even to being prodded with his iron-shod stick. Sometimes scenes more amusing would occur, as when some grandees would visit the class, and Vieuxtemps would change his manner from smiles and affability while addressing them, to scowls and grimaces while talking to his pupils, the latter, of course, being invisible to the visitors. When Vieuxtemps visited America in 1857, he was associated with Thalberg, the pianist, and together they visited many towns and cities. Amongst the gems of American newspaper criticism they no doubt took with them several copies of the following, which appeared in the local paper of a town in Tennessee, and was headed "Thalberg and Vieuxtemps:" "These distinguished individuals are now at Nashville, giving high pressure concerts, and selling tickets at two dollars apiece, when convenient. A stage-load and a half or two stage-loads of ladies and gentlemen went down from this place to hear them. Thalberg is said to be death, in its most horried shape, on the piano, and it is probably true; while Vieuxtemps is represented as a fiddler of considerable skill, considering his opportunities, which he no doubt is. We haven't heard either of them since they were quite small, and unless they come out here and reduce the price of their tickets to their value,--say about sixty-two and a half cents a dozen,--it is possible that we sha'n't hear them any more. When we ride forty miles, at an expense of at least ten dollars, extras not included, to hear a couple of itinerant Dutchmen torture a brace of unoffending instruments into fits, until the very spirit of music howls in sympathy, if some one will cave in our head with a brickbat, we will feel greatly obliged.