which my story has now arrived.

Whatever motive he had for seeking to commence the study of music,
it holds even in more important matters that, if the thing pursued
be good, there is a hope of the pursuit purifying the motive. And
Robert no sooner heard the fiddle utter a few mournful sounds in the
hands of the soutar, who was no contemptible performer, than he
longed to establish such a relation between himself and the strange
instrument, that, dumb and deaf as it had been to him hitherto, it
would respond to his touch also, and tell him the secrets of its
queerly-twisted skull, full of sweet sounds instead of brains. From
that moment he would be a musician for music's own sake, and forgot
utterly what had appeared to him, though I doubt if it was, the sole
motive of his desire to learn--namely, the necessity of retaining
his superiority over Shargar.

What added considerably to the excitement of his feelings on the
occasion, was the expression of reverence, almost of awe, with which
the shoemaker took the instrument from its case, and the tenderness
with which he handled it. The fact was that he had not had a violin
in his hands for nearly a year, having been compelled to pawn his
own in order to alleviate the sickness brought on his wife by his
own ill-treatment of her, once that he came home drunk from a
wedding. It was strange to think that such dirty hands should be
able to bring such sounds out of the instrument the moment he got it
safely cuddled under his cheek. So dirty were they, that it was
said Dooble Sanny never required to carry any rosin with him for
fiddler's need, his own fingers having always enough upon them for
one bow at least. Yet the points of those fingers never lost the
delicacy of their touch. Some people thought this was in virtue of