g as
will--it is all desire: when we desire a thing strongly enough, we have
the will to secure it--but no matter!

Young Niccolo Paganini practised on his father's violin for six hours a
day; and now when the customers who used to hire his father to play
came, they would say, "We just as lief have Niccolo."

Soon after this they said, "We prefer to have Niccolo." And a little
later they said, "We must have Niccolo." Some one has written a book to
show that playing second fiddle is just as worthy an office as playing
first. This doubtless is true, but there are so many more men who can
play second, that it behooves every player to relieve the stress by
playing first if he can. Niccolo played first and then was called upon
to play solos. He was making twice as much money as his father ever had,
but the father took all the boy's earnings, as was his legal right. The
father's pride in the success of the son, the young man always said, was
because he was proving a good financial investment. It does not always
pay to raise children--this time it did. It was finally decided to take
the boy to the celebrated musician, Rolla, for advice as to what was
best to do about his education. Rolla was sick abed at the time the boy
called and could not see him; but while waiting in the entry the lad
took up a violin and began to play. The invalid raised himself on one
elbow and pantingly inquired who the great master was that had thus
favored him with a visit.

"It's the lad who wants you to give him lessons," answered the
attendant.

"Impossible! no lad could play like that--I can teach that player
nothing!"

Next the musician Paer was visited, and he passed the boy along to
Giretta, who gave him three lessons a week in harmony and counterpoint.
The boy had abrupt mannerisms and tricks of his own in bringing out
expressions, and these were such a puzzle to the teacher that he soon
refused to go on.

Niccolo possessed a sort of haughty self-confidence that aggravated the
master; he believed in himself and was fond of showing that he could
play in a way no one else could. Adolescence had turned his desire to
play into a fury of passion for his art: he practised on single passages
for ten or twelve hours a day, and would often sink in a swoon from
sheer exhaustion. This deep, torpor-like sleep saved him from complete
collapse, just as it saved Mendelssohn, and he would arise to go on with
his work.

Paganini's wisdom was shown at