In the spring of the following year (1872) Max obtained a letter of introduction to Joseph Joachim. An appointment was made, and one morning we found ourselves in the presence of the “king of violinists" at the house of his late brother, Henry Joachim, with whom he always resided when staying in London. I do not know which of us was the more nervous. Max or myself (I was there as his accompanist); but I do know that he utterly failed to do himself justice. After he had played a page or two of one of Rode's concertos, Herr Joachim stopped him and asked whether he intended making “fiddling” his profession. “Yes," meekly replied my brother. “Well, in that case," continued the great man, in not unkindly tones, “I don't think you need play to me any more for the present. You have still a great deal to do, apart from learning how to hold your violin properly, and how to keep your elbow to your side when you draw your bow across the strings. But you have talent. When you have studied hard for another year or two, I shall be glad to hear you play again.” After which, he came to see us out at the front door, and we left the house in a not altogether enviable frame of mind. Of myself he barely took any notice; but six years later we were destined to meet under more favorable circumstances, and to begin a friendship which, I am proud to say, has endured without break down to the present time.