"The time which some students will devote to fiddling is almost incredible. We have known a clever man to practise every waking hour in the day, rising early and sitting up late, and sparing hardly one hour in the twenty-four for meals, for two years together, in the hope of qualifying himself for the leadership in a provincial orchestra; which, after all, he failed in doing. We have known men who fiddled in bed when they could not sleep, rather than waste the time; and others who have carried a dumb finger-board in their pockets, in order to practise the fingering of difficult passages while walking abroad or travelling by coach." It is, however, far from the purpose of the writer to discourage those who may wish to become proficient as performers on this delightful instrument, or to do otherwise than attempt to increase the number of those, who, having carefully listened to master-players, and having thus learned of the wonderful intonations and of the great refinement of musical expression of which the violin is capable, have resolved to become far more than mere "fiddlers;" and are therefore conscientiously and patiently addressing themselves to an endeavor to overcome its difficulties, and to take rank as real violinists. To many of this number a good if not a perfect degree of success must come, as it ever surely comes to the earnest, persevering student of any art. To all such, then, the writer tenders his best wishes; while he earnestly commends the above examples to all who may have a desire to learn to develop the beautiful harmonic mysteries of this expressive, soulful instrument. XVII. JOSEPH WHITE, THE EMINENT VIOLINIST AND COMPOSER. "Across my hands thou liest mute and still: Thou wilt not breathe to me thy secret fine; Thy matchless tones the eager air shall thrill To no entreaty or command of mine. But comes thy master: lo! thou yieldest all,-- Passion and pathos, rapture and despair: To the soul's needs thy searching voice doth call In language exquisite beyond compare." _"The Violin:" Harper's Magazine._ Mr. Joseph White[14] is a child of the New World. He was born in Matanzas, Cuba. His first steps in art were made in his native town. [Footnote 14: By permission of Mr. White, I quote now, and to some extent shall do so hereafter, from his Biography, published in Paris in 1874 by Paul Dupont. For the excellent translation used I am much indebted to my friend Mr. Joseph W. Hendricks of Boston.] His father, an amateur in music, thought he had recognized from the early infancy of the great artist a more than ordinary taste for art. When the child heard the tones of a violin, he used to leave off play, and run in the direction where the instrument was singing, his eyes never losing sight of the virtuoso. Indeed, by his actions at such times, he seemed not to belong to this world.