the owner. The works of art, however, with which our subject is connected, differ in important particulars from those for which gratification of the senses is to be favoured solely through the medium of the eye; they not only frequently demand the exercise of mechanical ingenuity of no mean order for purposes of restoration in regard to general appearance, but further and additionally, the no less important details concerned in a renewal, so far as may be possible, of their powers for the exhibition of acoustical properties such as were implanted in them by their original constructors. In the instance of a re-uniting of separated pieces, the insertion of fresh material to fill up spaces that must not be left open, strengthening, or even renewal of such parts as may have become worn away or—as is too often met with—"honey-combed" from the inroads of those vandals of all time known as "the worm," all the supporting, rebuilding of the interior and re-decoration of the exterior must be taken chiefly as means to an end, that of the resumption of its rightful position among friends or rivals in the same line.

This restitution becomes of increasing importance and necessity every day, a condition arising from the verdict emphatically given by his majesty the public that there are not any instruments of the violin family ready to take the place—that is, worthily—of those made by the principal masters of Italy during the two hundred odd years before the commencement of the nineteenth century, and also that there does not seem to be much probability of others arising at least for a few generations to come. No wonder then that the most energetic searching has been going on for a long time, not only in Italy but over the whole of Europe, with the hope that in some out of the way court or alley there may yet be reposing in obscurity some long forgotten, unrecognised work by an old master of the art of violin making. Should one be unearthed, if but a wreck of its former greatness or even a portion, this is not refused but eagerly grasped and placed—not yet in open daylight before the gaze of the world, but in the hands of a specialist in re-vivifying these dry bones of a bygone age, re-habilitating them—perhaps having by him or given him other portions of a similar maker, or it may be—it has sometimes occurred—the actual missing parts.

The specialist in the repairing and restoring art is now not of the same class as in olden times. When the Amatis, Stradivaris, Guarneris and the like were being turned out one after another, there was not so much necessity for preserving all the pieces or splinters of precious pine that had been separated by the fracture of the upper table from any cause, there was a better remedy at hand, the nearest maker would naturally be sought whose reputation was possibly more than local and whose self confidence prompted him to make a fresh table rather than devote time and labour for which adequate compensation could not be hoped for. As a result, we frequently find old violins and their kindred turning up with fronts and backs which, although fitting well as regards size and outline, have been made by a distinctly different workman, in some instances equal or even superior to the originator. At the present day, however, this kind of restoration is much more rarely attempted and is not resorted to unless the damage is very extensive or vital portions have been irrecoverably lost.

The modern maker has no longer within reach, pine with requisite acoustical properties, of which the old Italian masters seem to have had so large a store, or if not, the knowledge where to obtain it. As a consequence there has, in response to the pressure of necessity, arisen a class of workmen some of whose dexterous conversion of a mere bundle of splinters of an old master into the semblance of its former grandeur of aspect would have astonished the original designers. These modern restorers are not to be confounded with the minute imitators or forgers, than whom they are much more clever, hard-working and honest withal. The art of repairing and restoring has now become so distinct from that of making, that many in the foremost ranks in the increasing large army of restorers may never have made a violin throughout. The faculties, skill and experience directed on the restoration of a violin "on the sick list," differs from those exercised by the first constructor whose mechanical dexterity is an aid or secondary to other qualifications: whereas it is paramount in importance in the constitution of a first class repairer.

The construction of a violin from beginning to end may be said to be an art based on certain fixed principles, not all of them known, however. When these are, as far as possible, acted upon by a workman of sufficient intelligence and training, the progress of the work may be considered as being in a fairly straight and open course. Not so with the restoration of it after fracture or loss of parts great or small, several different courses may be open as to treatment and this will be as the temperament of the restorer will suggest or the exigencies of the moment may demand. Temporary alleviation of symptoms—how to make the thing go somehow—when there is no fiddle physician within beck or call, is a problem frequently arising and very annoying, necessity then being the mother of invention, often of a most curious sort, as most professional repairers who have had the re-consideration of the matter will have impressed on their memories. Among the most frequent of simple ailments the fiddle tribe is subject to, is that known as "chattering" or jarring, caused mostly by some parts having become dis-united, perhaps through damp or accident sometimes of a most trifling nature, and which henceforth, unless remedies are at once applied, make themselves evident in this way, accompanying every note that happens to be in unison with themselves, and lending discord instead of harmony, expressing urgently their thirst and desire for a small drink from the glue pot. Not unfrequently the exact spot where the jarring or chattering takes place is not easy to find by mere examination of the exterior, especially if the separation is fresh and at a part where very little adhesion has taken place at any time, or possibly the very slight portion of glue originally placed at the time of construction, has, with the progress of time, gradually dried away. Should this have occurred at the junction of the upper or lower tables (most frequently the first), the sides, or ribs, the exact spot must be found by gently tapping all round carefully, holding the instrument meanwhile firmly at parts that are least likely to have become disconnected or that are known to be perfectly sound. The tapping or sounding can be done in the way usual with dealers and repairers, that is, by the knuckle joints of the hand rapping round the instrument, but this is sometimes deceptive, the tendons over the bones of the hand interfering and occasionally causing a double sound, and so defeating the efforts at discovery. A more delicate and therefore better means of testing is by the use of a felted hammer of the kind and size acting on the bass string of a grand pianoforte; this will be found very handy. Should the rapping or sounding all round the border not reveal any weak spot, we may be sure the seat of the complaint is to be sought for elsewhere; possibly there is looseness in the interior and therefore something requiring deeper consideration.

We will for the present assume that there has been no uncertainty in locating the weakness, and that it is at the part before referred to as the most frequent in showing signs of disorder—the upper table losing its grip on the ribs. This is one of the many common ailments that are teazing to the violin during its troublous career; a slight accidental tap, or hastily putting the instrument to rest in a too closely fitting case being often sufficient. Sometimes, on the reverse, it is from being in too large a one, getting well shaken while being taken home after some orchestral rehearsal;