He spent the whole of the next morning in reiterated attempts to alter his style of playing the air in question, but in vain--as far at least as any satisfaction to himself was the result.

He laid the instrument down in despair, and sat for an hour disconsolate upon the bedside.

His visit had not as yet been at all so fertile in pleasure as he had anticipated.

He could not fly his kite; he could not walk; he had lost his shoes; Mr.Lammie had not approved of his playing; and, although he had his will of the fiddle, he could not get his will out of it.

He could never play so as to please Miss St.John.