Maggini was a native of Brescia and worked there from 1590 till 1632, when he is supposed to have died of the Plague. His early violins resemble those of Gasparo di Salò; but gradually the sound-holes grow narrower and by the end of his life Maggini produced violins that were pure in outline and beautifully finished. Moreover, they are famed for their grand, deep, _melancholy_ tone. Maggini had learned to be extremely careful in selecting the wood. In early days the Maggini bellies were cut across the grain like Gasparo di Salò’s; but, after a while, Maggini cut with the grain like Amati. His sound-holes grew more delicate, but they were bevelled inwards (an idea that the Cremona makers rejected). Maggini violins are also distinguished for their clear, golden-brown varnish and for their purfling, which is usually _double_. Very often Maggini indulged his fancy for ornamentation by twisting the purfling into a graceful clover-leaf pattern on the backs of his violins. Maggini violins are very rare. The last one to come to light was discovered by Efrem Zimbalist about a year ago. The way it came into his possession is as romantic a story as was ever told about a violin. Zimbalist happened to be at Lake George. A policeman came to him one day and said: “Mr. Zimbalist, I have an old violin that has been in the garret for about seventy or eighty years. I have just been offered a hundred dollars for it and I want you to tell me if I shall take it.” “Bring the violin to me,” said Zimbalist, “and I’ll try it.” The policeman returned with a dark, dirty old instrument, unstrung and in bad condition. It was not prepossessing, but Zimbalist strung it and tried it. “I’ll give you,” he said to the policeman, “a hundred and fifty dollars for it now; and if I find that it is what I think it is, I will give you a hundred and fifty more.” Zimbalist brought the violin to New York and took it to a repairer, who worked over it and at length brought it back to its original state. Delighted with the violin, Zimbalist sent the policeman five hundred dollars. Soon afterwards the violin repairer offered Zimbalist five thousand dollars for it. The old, black, neglected violin had turned out to be a beautiful Maggini. * * * * *