Ye maun jist straik her canny, an' wile the music oot o' her; for she's like ither women: gin ye be rouch wi' her, ye winna get a word oot o' her.
An' dinna han'le her that gait.

She canna bide to be contred an' pu'd this gait and that gait .-- Come to me, my bonny leddy.

Ye'll tell me yer story, winna ye, my dauty (pet) ?' And with every gesture as if he were humouring a shy and invalid girl, he would, as he said, wile the music out of her in sobs and wailing, till the instrument, gathering courage in his embrace, grew gently merry in its confidence, and broke at last into airy laughter.

He always spoke, and apparently thought, of his violin as a woman, just as a sailor does of his craft.

But there was nothing about him, except his love for music and its instruments, to suggest other than a most uncivilized nature.