About this time I received a decided impulse from hearing a little girl, aged six, play on the violin exquisitely, and, as it seemed to me, prodigiously. There were three sisters, named TURNER; the eldest was only fifteen : two played the harp, and the youngest, a pretty child of six, played the violin. She had one of those miniature instruments I believe a real Cremona which can still occasionally be picked up at old violin shops. I remember the enthusiasm she created in some variations on airs from "Sonnambula" an opera in which JENNY LIND was making furor at the time in London. The poor little violinist was recalled again and again. It was past eleven, and as she came on in her little pink dress just down to her knees holding her tiny fiddle I recollect her raising it to her chin to begin again, but her little head lay so wearily on one side, and she looked so tired that her acute father came forward, perceiving that the child was quite worn out, drew her away, and in a few words asked the people to let her off, adding that she ought to have been in bed an hour ago. I went home and tried those variations. I could not play them, but her playing of them gave me a new start.