ell them, he has not had
time to look." Many instruments in this collection Tarisio seemed
never tired of admiring. He took them up again and again, completely
lost to all around--in a word, spell-bound. There was the "King"
Guarneri--the Guarneri known as Lafont's--the beautiful Bergonzi
Violin--the Viola known as Lord Macdonald's--General Kidd's Stradivari
Violoncello--the Marquis de la Rosa's Amati--Ole Bull's Guarneri--the
Santo Serafino 'Cello--and other remarkable instruments too numerous
to mention. Who can say what old associations these Cremona gems
brought to his memory? For the moment, these Fiddles resolved
themselves into a diorama, in which he saw the chief events of his
life played over again. With far greater truthfulness than that which
his unaided memory could have supplied, each Fiddle had its tale to
relate. His thoughts were carried back to the successful energies of
his past.

Tarisio may be said to have lived the life of a hermit to the time of
his death. He had no pleasures apart from his Fiddles; they were his
all in this world. Into his lodgings, in the Via Legnano, near the
Porta Tenaglia, in Milan, no living being but himself was ever
permitted to enter.[2] His nearest neighbours had not the least
knowledge of his occupation. He mounted to his attic without
exchanging a word with any one, and left it securely fastened to start
on his journeys in the same taciturn manner. He was consequently
regarded as a mysterious individual, whose doings were unfathomable.
The time, however, has arrived when the veil hiding the inner life of
this remarkable man should be lifted, and here I am indebted for
particulars to Signor Sacchi, of Cremona, who received them from a
reliable source. Tarisio had been seen by his ever-watchful neighbours
to enter his abode, but none had noticed him quit it for several days.
The door was tried and found locked; no answer was returned to the
sundry knockings. That Tarisio was there the neighbours were
convinced. The facts were at once brought under the notice of the
municipal authorities, who gave instructions that an entry should be
made by force into the mysterious man's apartment. The scene witnessed
was indeed a painful one. On a miserable couch rested the lifeless
body of Luigi Tarisio; around, everything was in the utmost disorder.
The furniture of the apartment consisted mainly of a chair, table, and
the couch upon which lay the corpse. A pile of old Fiddle-boxes h