for public purposes. It is furnished with a large scene-like painting
of Whitby, is very hot, and is near the harbour, which at low tide
emitteth odours which are odious; and I think that it is always low
tide.

"There was a concert in this hall in the afternoon, and also in the
evening, of the Feast of S. Michael and All Angels. Two of the latter
came here to sing. You know them in London as Madame Grisi and Madame
Sainton-Dolby. With them came Signor Mario and M. Sainton, and also
Herr M. Lutz and Mr. Patey. They all sang or played. Verily, my friend
and pitcher (for thou pitchest stones deftly, as it were), it was a
refreshment, yea, and a consolation, to hear their voices and their
instruments. I will not give you a catalogue of their musical deeds,
for I had a bill, but it was borrowed from me by a large Yorkshireman,
and he was so very large that I did not like to demand it again.
Nevertheless, _La Diva_ sang "The Last Rose of Summer," _a la Flotow_,
and made me think of many things--are they not written in the book of
the Chronicles of Benjamin, whose name is Lumley? Likewise she sang
something out of _Faust_, with il Signor, and other matters, whereof
no matter--is it not enough to have seen and heard her? But commend
me, (not that I need your commendation) to Madame Sainton-Dolby,
inasmuch as that lady sang Handel's 'Lascia ch'o pianga,' and sang it
nobly, and sang Smart's 'Lady of the Lea,' and sang Claribel's
'Maggie's Secret,' and sang it divinely. You know what M. Sainton can
do with his violin, but you do not know what he cannot do with it, nor
do I. Il Signor Mario put forth his powers chivalrously, and broke
many hearts among the fair York roses. _La Diva_ was dressed in white.
Madame Sainton-Dolby was dressed in pink. I was dressed in a black
coat, waistcoat, and trowsers, white cravat, lavender gloves, and
patent leather boots, and the little boys of Whitby, unaccustomed to
such splendour, cheered me as I came out, privately and alone, to dip
my beak in the gascon wine, that is, in some excellent beer, in which
I now drink your health.

"If you have another reporter, your own special, in the town (I saw
two or three persons who looked disreputable and enthusiastic enough
to be musical critics--or even dustmen), and he has kept sober and
sent you a report, you need not print this. I do not care a horse's
mamma whether you print i