ter
bowed, received it, and placed it in a corner.

"I brought it myself, Mr. Northcote, that I might have the opportunity of
saying that I yesterday thoughtlessly took a very unbecoming liberty with
you, and you properly resented it. I really am angry with myself, and hope
you will forgive me, and think no more of it."

"And what did you say?" inquired the first friend to whom Northcote
related the circumstance. "Say! Gude God! what would 'e have me have said?
Why, nothing? I only bowed, and he might see what I felt. I could, at the
instant, have sacrificed my life for him!--such a Prince is worthy to be a
King!" The venerable painter had the gratification to live to see him a
King. May he long remain so!

* * * * *

SPIRIT OF THE PUBLIC JOURNALS.

THE DEVIL'S SONATA.

Tartini's compositions are very numerous, consisting of above a hundred
sonatas, and as many concertos. Among them is the famous "Sonata del
Diavolo," of the origin of which Tartini himself gave the following
account to the celebrated astronomer Lalande:--

"One night, in the year 1713, I dreamed that I had made a compact with his
Satanic Majesty, by which he was received into my service. Everything
succeeded to the utmost of my desires, and my every wish was anticipated
by my new domestic. I thought that, on taking up my violin to practise, I
jocosely asked him if he could play on this instrument? He answered, that
he believed he was able to pick out a tune; when, to my astonishment, he
began a sonata, so strange, and yet so beautiful, and executed in so
masterly a manner, that in the whole course of my life I had never heard
anything so exquisite. So great was my amazement that I could scarcely
breathe. Awakened by the violence of my feelings, I instantly seized my
violin, in the hope of being able to catch some part of the ravishing
melody which I had just heard, but all in vain. The piece which I composed
according to my scattered recollections is, it is true, the best I ever
produced. I have entitled it 'Sonata del Diavolo;' but it is so far
inferior to that which had made so forcible an impression on me, that I
should have dashed my violin into a thousand pieces, and given up music
for ever in despair, had it been possible to deprive myself of the
enjoyments which I receive from it."

Time, and the still more surprising flights of more modern performers,
have deprived this famous sonata of anything di