_Charm of the violin; voice of the violin; parts of the violin; construction of the violin; bridge, bass-bar and sound-post; ancestry of the violin; the vielle, or viole; evolution of the violin; corners and bouts; the sound-holes; birthplace of the violin; Brescia; Gasparo di Salò; Maggini and the characteristics of his violins; Efrem Zimbalist’s Maggini; Cremona; the Amati family and their violins; Antonio Stradivari; house of Stradivari described by Haweis; the Stradivari violin; the Guarneri; Joseph del Gesù; Carlo Bergonzi; Jacobus Stainer of Absam; importance of wood for violins; Joachim’s opinion of the Stradivari violin; strings of the violin; the fingerboard and “positions”; harmonics—natural and artificial; portamento; the sordino; the right hand’s work; bowing; pizzicato; position of violins in the Orchestra; the First Violin; Lavignac on the violin; Berlioz on use of violins in the Orchestra; François Tourte, the Stradivari of the bow; evolution of the bow; Corelli, Tartini, Tourte, Viotti, Paganini; Tourte’s model; the bow of to-day._ There is something very fascinating about a violin. This graceful, delicate instrument, which is a marvel of strength, notwithstanding its frail appearance, is beautiful to look at and its voice is lovely to hear. It is often said that the voice of a violin is so greatly admired because its tones offer the nearest approach to the human voice; but if you think the matter over you will, perhaps, agree with me that the tones of a beautiful violin do not resemble those of a human voice and that they are infinitely more beautiful in quality. There is a mellowness, a softness, a richness, a liquidity, a glossy clearness and a warmth peculiar to the violin and very far away from anything that the human throat can accomplish. Let us think of the violin’s voice as something individual; and as something delightful and dear to us because it is an individual voice and not because of any fancied resemblance to a high soprano. Indeed, very few of the greatest singers could ever produce such velvety, sweet, poignant, vibrant and insinuating notes as we hear from a luscious Stradivari, a sweet Amati, or a rich Maggini under the bow of a master-violinist. Everything about a violin appeals to us. There is something so mysterious and ingratiating about the little instrument, neat and trig and curved at the waist, with lines as clean as those of a high-bred race-horse and nerves as tense with excitement, ready to be set quivering at the touch of the bow. Moreover, the very fact that age improves it, and that the longer it lives the sweeter and richer and lovelier it becomes, gives us almost a feeling of awe towards the violin. This delicate little instrument defies Time and disaster. In that it is superior to man himself: the violin is, therefore, almost superhuman!