good violin, there will be no difficulty in procuring a good and proper bridge for it when it is required. And the next thing to having a good bridge is that of having a good set of pegs for tuning the violin. In Germany girls are taught to play the cornet, the French horn, and various other wind instruments; but whether it would be decorous for our females to imitate such examples is rather doubtful. It is by constant use, and not by age only, that a violin becomes mellow in tone; but a great deal depends on the maker. It is true that Cremonas and other violins which have been in constant use for many years have acquired a character for superiority beyond most others, consequently they often fetch a larger price—more, perhaps, from having been in the possession of first-rate performers than from any intrinsic value in the instruments themselves. It is not our intention, however, to give any account of the manufacture of the violin—those who are curious in such matters may consult a thousand other works on the subject, which are to be obtained of the music publishers, both foreign and English. C. H. P. [Illustration] THE SHEPHERD’S FAIRY. A PASTORALE. BY DARLEY DALE, Author of “Fair Katherine,” etc. CHAPTER XIX. CHATEAU DE THORENS AGAIN. Eighteen years have, of course, made a great many changes in Château de Thorens. The old baroness is long since at rest, she died a few years after her son Léon was drowned; and Père Yvon, though still alive, is very old and infirm, and lives in daily expectation that the summons will come for him to follow his late patroness to her last home. The baron is stouter than he was when he ran down the spiral staircase with his infant daughter in his arms that midsummer evening, whose work he would have given the rest of his life to undo, so bitterly had he repented of it. His hair, too, is turning white, though he is under five and forty still, and there is a settled melancholy look in his brown eyes, which not all the jokes of his three sons can ever wholly chase away. The young baroness is no longer known by that name since the old baroness died, yet she still looks very young to be the mother of those three great boys, the eldest of whom, a tall handsome youth of sixteen, named Léon, after his poor uncle, to whom he bears a striking resemblance, is now hanging over her and trying to persuade her to ride with him before dinner this September evening. “Oh! Léon, I can’t! It is much too hot!” “Nonsense, mother, it will do you good; you are getting much too stout,” said Léon, mischievously; for he knew his mother prided herself on her figure, which was slight and almost girlish. “Léon, you dreadful boy! I am sure it is not true! I will ask your father; and I certainly won’t ride with you now, to punish you for your impertinence. Besides Rex de Courcy came back yesterday, and I am sure he will be here later to see me.”