harmony our master stood beside a large
black board— we were ranged on benches
row behind row; and I confess that I ungallantly
left the ladies to bear the brunt of
his observations and corrections, myself
shamefully retiring behind the tallest and
stoutest of the lovely singers. Other gentlemen
followed my example; and, for some
time, we were left to ourselves, although now
and then alluded to, rather than addressed
by, our teacher. Often have I felt that his
eye was upon me when I forgot for a moment
my fears, and ventured a little way from my
shelter. Sometimes he said that he could
not hear the gentlemen's voices. This simple
but too true observation filled me with trepidation.
At last we were obliged to come
forward, dragged into the light with all our
false notes and bad time; and it is impossible
to describe the agony of our situation.
Mr. Batten (Mr. Hullah's deputy), our able
and kind master, exhorted us to make mistakes,
rather than not sing at all. "Gentlemen,"
he said, "I wish that you would make
some mistakes." In this respect I soon
became his best pupil.

Miss Sophia Lute was. from the commencement,
a member of the Hullah class: taking
her place at once among the soprano voices.
I do not know why she joined us, for she
knew music sufficiently well before. I believe
that she did it out of pure good nature.
Sometimes, when I made abortive attempts
to reach G— a note to which I have a fixed
dislike— the other ladies of the class smiled.
One young lady even laughed, and I hated
her. Two other tenors, who confided their
dislike to me, also hated her; but Miss Sophia
always looked at me in a manner so kind and
encouraging, that, although I never properly
reached G, I felt pleased with my mistakes
for bringing out such a look. G, indeed, has
never been attainable to me.

There is always more shyness among the
gentlemen than among the ladies. Several
gentlemen on the stock exchange, a lawyer,
and a Greek merchant, have successively
come to our class-room with the intention of
joining us; but, have never summoned
sufficient courage. Jones Smith (brother of Smith
of the Admiralty, our best bass) actually ran
away one evening, after knocking at the
door.

We have three facetious members; one of
whom, instead of singing, imitates all the others,
one by one, in a ludicrous and covert manner,
between the pieces. They give us, in addition,
puns, conundrums, and witty observations.
Miss Sophia does not like this. She
says that it interrupts the singing.
The humorous gentlemen were on the qui vive
a few days ago in consequence of an observation
made by a very sharp solicitor, who,
seeing 6/8 at the beginning of a piece of
music (to indicate that there were six quavers
in the bar), could not imagine what it signified.
He thought that he had seen the
figures somewhere else, written in a line, but
could not distinctly remember where.

There have been several jealousies. Those
who live on the common looked down on us
whose houses are not so stylish. They were
quite angry when we called them the common
people; but harmony was soon restored.

We have formed a Hullah madrigal club.
Simpkins is secretary, and the committee
meet every month. Hence, several most
delightful parties. Besides, we have a Hullah
picnic, and a Hullah boating association.
And from the formation of that society I
date my present ecstatic state of happiness.

It was on a Thursday in June, eighteen
hundred and fifty-five (I was brought up to be
very careful about dates), that we had our first
pic-nic. Jones— the bass Jones— who sometimes
comes to our practisings and reunions,
has a villa on the Thames, between Teddington
and Twickenham; a very pretty place it
is, but more favourable to bass than to tenor
voices in winter. I am told that a catarrh
quite improves a bass voice; but, at the
same time, Nature seems to have settled that
the tenor requires more care, and, being
scarcer, is the more valuable. So I could
never live so very near the Thames as Jones.

It was arranged that there should be four
boats— one respectively for the sopranos,
altos, tenors, and basses. Of course the
sopranos and altos did not row themselves—
four gentlemen of the tenors rowed the
soprano boat, four gentlemen of the basses
the alto. I was stroke-oar of the sopranos,
and sat just opposite to Miss Sophia.
It was agreed as soon as we had made a little
way, to sing Since first I saw your Face—
a very pretty madrigal. But it all went wrong
in consequence of my unhappy self-consciousness
and my intractable G. In the second
verse, at.

No, no, no, my heart is fast and cannot disentangle,

I broke down completely. The words were
so true, and the notes so false, that there
was no help for it— the madrigal was a
failure through my mischance, and I felt
such a tingling and blushing all over me that
I believe my very oar would have tingled
and blushed if it could.

We arrived at our destination without
any further misadventure, and found the
hospitable Jones anxiously awaiting us with
a large party of ladies and gentlemen, whom
he had invited to his house for the day;
and certainly we had come to a lovely spot.
A smoother and greener lawn was never
seen, very gradually sloping to the water's
edge. Here and there a willow dipped its
branches into the river, while at one end of
our friend's property was a little harbour
into which our fleet was taken, and where it
was safely moored. The house is a long
building with verandahs: although glistening
in the sunshine, still suggestive of coolness.

Either the sunshine, or the music, or something
else, drew Miss Sophy and myself