Harris stated that all the time he was with Paganini he never heard him play a single note except before an audience. That may have been correct so far as Germany was concerned, but the Rev. John Edmund Cox, in his "Musical Recollections," has something very different to say about Paganini. "During his career he visited my native town,[35] and as I had the good fortune then to be able to converse in French, the friends who had engaged him for a round of concerts in that place and its vicinity placed me in direct communication with him somewhat in the capacity of a secretary; so that I not only travelled in his company and heard him at every concert at which he appeared, but I lived in the same hotels and lodgings which had been secured for him. This kind of semi-official position necessitated my seeing much of him during his leisure hours, when he threw off the suspicious restraint which was always apparent in his manner when he was among strangers, whom he imagined were bent upon getting as much as possible out of him for their own advantage. Then, indeed, he would evince anything but a hard and ungenerous nature, his manner being not only kind but courteous; whilst any attention that was afforded to his wants or to his comforts was sure to elicit not only looks but words of gratitude. In public he confined himself almost exclusively to the performance of his own music,--... but in private--for he had his violin constantly in his hand--he would sit and dash off by the hour together snatches from the compositions of the best masters, and give readings of such originality to passages that had been heard again and again, as apparently have never been supposed to be possible by any other player. As an instance in point, he one morning, whilst I was writing several notes for him, commenced the first _motivo_ of Beethoven's magnificent violin concerto. To write was then impossible; and he, perceiving how entranced I seemed, asked whether I knew what it was. On my replying in the negative, he promised, if it could be managed, that I should hear the whole of that movement before we separated." The promise was redeemed. The above is valuable as showing that Paganini was not quite so wanting in knowledge as was generally supposed. He could converse in French, though at that time--1831--he had only spent a few weeks in France. Education, proper, he had none; but the statement that he could speak no language but his own, is evidently incorrect. The allusion to strangers bent upon getting as much as possible out of him for their own advantage, finds an illustration in the story of the Englishman who is said to have followed Paganini for some six months, watching his every movement, lodging at the same hotels, and employing every means to get at the great secret of the violinist's art. At last his perseverance seemed about to be rewarded. Looking through the keyhole of Paganini's door, the