He began to play, but could only bring out enough to show us what he meant by it. He had at that time a firm conviction that playing concertos and working miracles were the same thing. Once more, honoured madam! You will doubtless remember that I have a very good violin which Wolfgangerl used in old times to call "Butter-fiddle," on account of its soft, full tone. One day, soon after you came back from Vienna (early in 1763), he played on it, and could not praise my violin enough; a day or two after, I came to see him again, and found him amusing himself with his own little violin. He said directly: "What is your butter-fiddle about?" and went on playing according to his fancy; then he thought a little and said: "Herr Schachtner, your violin is half a quarter of a tone lower than mine, that is, if it is tuned as it was, when I played on it last." I laughed at this, but your father, who knew the wonderful ear and memory of the child, begged me to fetch the violin, and see if he was right. I did, and right he was, sure enough! Some time before this, immediately after your return from Vienna, Wolfgang having brought home with him a little violin which some one in Vienna had given him, there came in one day our then excellent violinist the late Herr Wentzl, who was a dabbler in composition. He brought six trios with him, composed during the absence of your father, whose opinion on them he came to ask. We played these trios, your father taking the bass part, Wentzl playing first violin, and I second. Wolfgangerl begged to be allowed to play second violin, but your father reproved him for so silly a request, since he had never had any {CHILDHOOD.} (24) instruction on the violin, and your father thought he was not in the least able for it. Wolfgang said, "One need not have learnt, in order to play second violin," whereupon his father told him to go away at once, and not interrupt us any longer. Wolfgang began to cry bitterly, and slunk away with his little violin. I interceded for him to be allowed to play with me, and at last his father said: "Play with Herr Schachtner then, but not so as to be heard, or you must go away at once." So it was settled, and Wolfgang played with me. I soon remarked with astonishment that I was quite superfluous; I put my violin quietly down, and looked at your father, down whose cheeks tears of wonder and delight were running; and so he played all the six trios. When we had finished, Wolfgang grew so bold from our applause that he declared he could play first violin. We let him try for the sake of the joke, and almost died of laughter to hear him play, with incorrect and uncertain execution, certainly, but never sticking fast altogether. In conclusion: Of the delicacy and refinement of his ear.