d,
that I had not, after all, seen the best portion of the collection.
The circumstance of Violins being deposited in the sleeping apartment
of their owner was sufficient to give birth to this conjecture. Upon
removing the lid of the first cardboard case, my eyes rested on a
charming Stradivari of the Amati period, a gem of its kind. Gently
laying it on the table, that I might examine it later, I opened the
next case. Here rested a magnificent Giuseppe Guarneri, the instrument
afterwards bought by Lord Dunmore, date 1732. Pursuing my delightful
occupation, I opened another case, the contents of which put the rest
completely in the shade--here rested the Stradivari, date 1715, the
gem of the collection. Unable to restrain my curiosity, I rapidly
opened sixteen cases in all, from which I took out six Stradivari, two
Guarneri, one Bergonzi, two Amati, and five other Violins of a high
class.

[Footnote 5: Edwin Atherstone, born 1788, died 1872; was the author of
"The Fall of Nineveh" and "The Last Days of Herculaneum," two poems in
blank verse, and of a novel, "The Sea Kings of England," of which Sir
Walter Scott wrote approvingly.]

It was observed at the time of the sale of this remarkable collection,
which took place shortly after the dispersion of Mr. Gillott's gallery
of pictures, that "Every well-ordered display of fireworks should have
its climax of luminous and detonating splendour, throwing into shade
all the preliminary squibs, crackers, and rockets, the Catherine
wheels, the Roman candles, and the golden rain. The French, with
modest propriety, term this consummation a _bouquet_." I cannot find
anything more applicable than this word to the scene I have attempted
to describe. It only remains for me to say, in reference to this array
of Fiddles, that I passed a week in their company, and a more
enjoyable one I have never had during my professional career.

Dr. Johnson, who understood neither Fiddling nor painting, who
collected neither coins nor cockle-shells, maggots nor butterflies,
was clearly of the same opinion as the author of "Tristram Shandy,"
that there is no disputing against hobby-horses. He says: "The pride
or the pleasure of making collections, if it be restrained by prudence
and morality, produces a pleasing remission after more laborious
studies; furnishes an amusement, not wholly unprofitable, for that
part of life, the greater part of many lives, which would otherwise be
lost in idleness or vi