of his earliest passions, and remained with him
to the last. I cannot refrain from quoting some recollections of the
late Archdeacon Groome, a friend of his College days, and so near a
neighbour in later life that few letters passed between them. 'He was a
true musician; not that he was a great performer on any instrument, but
that he so truly appreciated all that was good and beautiful in music. He
was a good performer on the piano, and could get such full harmonies out
of the organ that stood in one corner of his entrance room at Little
Grange as did good to the listener. Sometimes it would be a bit from one
of Mozart's Masses, or from one of the finales of some one of his or
Beethoven's Operas. And then at times he would fill up the harmonies
with his voice, true and resonant almost to the last. I have heard him
say, "Did you never observe how an Italian organ-grinder will sometimes
put in a few notes of his own in such perfect keeping with the air which
he was grinding?" He was not a great, but he was a good composer. Some
of his songs have been printed, and many still remain in manuscript. Then
what pleasant talk I have had with him about the singers of our early
years; never forgetting to speak of Mrs. Frere of Downing, as the most
perfect private singer we had ever heard. And so indeed she was. Who
that had ever heard her sing Handel's songs can ever forget the purity of
her phrasing and the pathos of her voice? She had no particle of vanity
in her, and yet she would say, "Of course, I can sing Handel. I was a
pupil of John Sale, and he was a pupil of Handel." To her old age she
still retained the charm of musical expression, though her voice was but
a thread. And so we spoke of her; two old men with all the enthusiastic
admiration of fifty years ago. Pleasant was it also to hear him speak of
the public singers of those early days. Braham, so great, spite of his
vulgarity; Miss Stephens, so sweet to listen to, though she had no voice
of power; and poor Vaughan, who had so feeble a voice, and yet was always
called "such a chaste singer." How he would roar with laughter, when I
would imitate Vaughan singing

His hiddeus (_sic_) love provokes my rage,
Weak as I am, I must engage,

from Acis and Galatea. Then too his reminiscences of the said Acis and
Galatea as given at the Concerts for Ancient Music. "I can see them now,
the dear old _creeters_ with the gold eye-glasses and their turbans,