ntil he knew
the characteristics of all the great violin models, from the Amatis,
Hieronymus, Antonius, and Nicolas, to those of Stradivarius, Guarnerius,
and Steiner.

It was in this year, also, that he made a very precious discovery. While
browsing in the rubbish in Squire Bean's garret to see if he could find
the missing sound-post of the old violin, he came upon a billet of wood
wrapped in cloth and paper. When unwrapped, it was plainly labeled "Wood
from the Bean Maple at Pleasant Point; the biggest maple in York County,
and believed to be one of the biggest in the State of Maine." Anthony
found that the oldest inhabitant of Pleasant River remembered the stump
of the tree, and that the boys used to jump over it and admire
its proportions whenever they went fishing at the Point. The wood,
therefore, was perhaps eighty or ninety years old. The squire agreed
willingly that it should be used to mend the old violin, and told Tony
he should have what was left for himself. When, by careful calculation,
he found that the remainder would make a whole violin, he laid it
reverently away for another twenty years, so that he should be sure it
had completed its century of patient waiting for service, and falling on
his knees by his bedside said, "I thank Thee, Heavenly Father, for
this precious gift, and I promise from this moment to gather the most
beautiful wood I can find, and lay it by where it can be used some time
to make perfect violins, so that if any creature as poor and helpless as
I am needs the wherewithal to do good work, I shall have helped him as
Thou hast helped me." And according to his promise so he did, and the
pieces of richly curled maple, of sycamore, and of spruce began to
accumulate. They were cut from the sunny side of the trees, in just
the right season of the year, split so as to have a full inch thickness
towards the bark, and a quarter inch towards the heart. They were then
laid for weeks under one of the falls in Wine Brook, where the musical
tinkle, tinkle of the stream fell on the wood already wrought upon by
years of sunshine and choruses of singing birds.

This boy, toiling not alone for himself, but with full and conscious
purpose for posterity also, was he not worthy to wear the mantle of
Antonius Stradivarius?

"That plain white-aproned man who stood at work Patient and accurate
full fourscore years, Cherished his sight and touch by temperance,
And since keen sense is love of perfectne