By way of disporting a little further on this theme, I have spun a few lines in which the reference is to that incongruous identity so often found within the circle of private life—a good man, and bad fiddler:— Ralph Rasper is an honest man, Prone to do all the good he can; He never lets the piteous poor Go meatless from his open door: He loves his wife—he pays his bills— And with content his household fills. He seeks, in short, the rule of right, And keeps his conscience pretty white: But save, oh, save us from his _fiddling_! It is so very—_very_ middling! Enough, however, of the indicative kind, as concerning the sins and follies of the Amateur species. Are they unpardonable? Nay—they claim indulgence through the very _cause_ which produces them. It is the inspiring motive—the instrumental love, or love of the instrument—which redeems, in some sort, the errors to which it gives birth. We must not be too severe on the zeal which is indiscreet, lest we discountenance good faith, and nip affection in the bud. Shall we excommunicate our brother, for that he is too fond of fiddling? Nay, rather, let us reserve our censure for him who hath _no_ fiddling in his soul. Cease we, then, to dwell on deficiencies—let us “leave off discourse of disability,”—except so far as may be necessary towards administering any little further wholesome advice, with a friendly view to practical improvement. In the past observations, let me not be thought to have had no better purpose than that of playing the cynic for my own indulgence. Myself an Amateur, and one of by no means large calibre, I should indeed be doing what were equally graceless and witless, did I seek the damage of the class to which I belong—that is, to which I _have_ belonged, in practice, and still belong, by inclination and sympathy. My object is reform—the reform of acknowledged errors and proved abuses—but, while advocating the principles of that reform to the utmost extent that is compatible with reason and propriety, I will never consent to abandon my “order.” Allusion has been made, at the commencement of this chapter, to the very large amount of time which the _Professor_ must devote to his art, as one of the absolute conditions of eminence. The ends of the Amateur may, of course, be answered with a smaller expenditure of his moments. If he possess the requisite predisposition for the instrument, _two hours_ a day will suffice him. This must be regarded as the _minimum_—and with this, according to Spohr (a very high authority), he may make such progress as to afford himself and others great enjoyment of music, in quartett-playing, in accompanying the pianoforte, or in the orchestra.