at Ole
Bull had outgrown him, and on that account he thought it wise to depart.

In 1822 a Swedish violinist came to Bergen, and Ole took lessons of him.
His name was Lundholm, and he was a pupil of Baillot. Lundholm was very
strict and would admit of no departure from established rules. He quite
failed to make the boy hold his instrument according to the accepted
method, but his custom of making his pupil stand upright, with his head
and back against the wall while playing, no doubt gave to him that
repose and grace of bearing which was so noticeable in later years.
Lundholm was, however, quite unable to control his precocious pupil and
a coolness soon sprung up between them, which appears to have culminated
in the following incident.

On a Tuesday evening, at one of the regular meetings, Lundholm played
Baillot's "Caprizzi," but Ole Bull was much disappointed at the
pedantic, phlegmatic manner in which he rendered the passionate phrases.
When the company went to supper Ole found on the leader's music-rack a
concerto of Spohr's, and began to try it over. Carried away with the
music, he forgot himself, and was discovered by Lundholm on his return,
and scolded for his presumption.

"What impudence!" said the violinist. "Perhaps you think you could play
this at sight, boy?" "Yes," was the reply, "I think I could." His remark
was heard by the rest of the company, who were now returning, and they
all insisted that he should try it. He played the allegro, and all
applauded except Lundholm, who looked angry. "You think you can play
anything," he said, and, taking a caprice of Paganini's from the stand,
he added, "Try this." It happened that this caprice was a favourite of
the young violinist, who had learned it by heart. He therefore played it
in fine style, and received the hearty applause of the little audience.
Lundholm, however, instead of raving, was more polite and kind than he
had ever been before, and told Ole that with practice he might hope to
equal him (Lundholm) some day.

Years afterwards, when Ole Bull was making a concert tour through
Norway, and was travelling in a sleigh over the snow-covered ground, he
met another sleigh coming from the opposite direction, of which the
occupant recognised him, and made signs to him to stop. It was Lundholm.
"Well," shouted he, "now that you are a famous violinist, remember that
when I heard you play Paganini I predicted that your career would be a
remarkable one."

"Oh