"Tho' mean thy rank, yet in thy humble cell, Did gentle peace and arts unpurchased dwell. Well pleased, Apollo thither led his train, And Music warbled in her sweetest strain. Cyllenius too, so fables tell, and Jove Came willing guests to poor Philemon's grove. Let useless pomp behold, and blush to find So low a station, such a liberal mind."[3] [Footnote 3: These verses were written by Mr. John Hughes, who was a frequent performer on the Violin at Britton's concerts. (Hawkins.)] Thus the first germ of the great musical societies gave a marked impulse to the culture of stringed music in England. Attention was turned to the subject; its humanising effects were recognised, and parties met in several places for the practice of chamber music. Our progress in Violin-playing at this date was clearly satisfactory. We had a Violinist named John Henry Eccles, belonging to a clever family of musicians. He became a member of the band of Louis XIV., and was regarded as an excellent player and musician. He published in Paris some solos for the Violin in 1720. His brother Thomas was also a good Violinist. Fortune, however, did not smile upon him. He is described as being one of those itinerant musicians--perhaps the last of them--who in winter evenings went to taverns, and for a slender subsistence bore the insults of those disinclined to listen to their performance. This order of itinerant musicians may be described as having descended from the Fiddling minstrels, whom the wealthy in earlier times often retained in their houses, giving them coats and badges bearing the family arms. These musicians, in place of amusing the nobility, ultimately attended wakes and fairs. They were sometimes retained at the large inns, where the guest while eating, an old English writer says, was "offered music, which he may freely take or refuse, and if he be solitary the musicians will give him the good day, with music in the morning." In Puritan times this class of musician was thought to have so much increased as to need a special act for their suppression, which gave rise to Butler's creation, the "Champion Crowdero." Returning to our subject with Thomas Eccles, we have the following interesting account of the unfortunate Violinist, by a musician: "It was about the month of November, 1753, that I, with some friends, were met to spend the evening at a tavern in the City, when this man, in a mean but decent garb, was introduced to us by the waiter; immediately upon opening the door I heard the twang of one of his strings from under his coat, which was accompanied by the question, 'Gentlemen, will you please to hear my music?' Our curiosity, and the modesty of the man's deportment, inclined us to say yes, and music he gave us, such as I had never heard before, nor shall again under the same circumstances. With as fine and delicate a hand as I ever heard, he played the whole fifth and ninth solos of Corelli, and two songs of Mr.