Voluntary, Piano-Forte . Mr.                      } Mendelssohn
Mendelssohn Jackson                                 Jackson

Grand Aria, "Terribile" Mr.                         } Porchi
Belmore Jones

Symphony, compressed and adapted       } Mendelssohn
by                                                                Jackson

(An interval of ten minutes).

Parte Seconda.

Trio, Saxe-Horns                                        } Mendelssohn
                                                                     Jackson

MSS. Ballad, " My heart, my heart is           } MSS
breaking!"  Miss B. Lightbody

Orphean Quartetto, "Sing tra la la!"

Grand Scena, "Ah, Perche! " (by                 } Mrs. Grey
desire)                                                            Malkyn.

Selections from the grand opera of "Norma."

One thing strikes me as I look fondly over
this memorial, and that is the singularly
frequent recurrence of the name of Mendelssohn
Jackson. The works of that master seemed
to constitute the chief aliment of the evening,
no doubt owing to the natural popularity of
local talent. When he was seen to come
forward to his desk, baton in hand and all
begloved, there was a very gratifying display of
local feeling—-acknowledged by the maestro
gracefully—-and the overture set in. And
here, at the outset, I had sore misgivings
that the whole thing was about to break
down prematurely, and go to pieces at once.
From the very post, as it were, there came
of a sudden an alarming thinness in the
instrumentation—-the violin apparently bearing
the whole burden of the piece. This, I was
afterwards informed, was owing to the
various players having lost their places through
nervousness or other cause. I saw Mendelssohn
Jackson become of an ashy paleness,
but still holding on, without faltering, to his
beat, making believe, with sickness in his
heart, as though all were going well, until
the Reverend Hoblush, who had been
rambling up and down his music distractedly,
struck in desperately to the rescue, and
restored the day. Rome was saved.

Miss Bandoline's song, which came next,
was beautiful. Elderly gentlemen were
observed beating their fingers rhythmically to
the soft burden, Cam' ham' wi' the kail,
which recurred deliciously at each verse.
Long will that hymn be chanted of winter
nights in Datchley homesteads—-mothers
voicing it softly to their infants by the
firelight. It was, of course, re-demanded
frantically—-florid, elderly gentlemen giving strong
signs of adhesion. Jones's Terribile,
introducing the well-known E flat, was an awfully
impressive performance.

The trio for Sax-horns left a horrible feeling
on the mind, as though we had been
hearkening to the cries of souls in agony—-of
men being broke upon the wheel. There was
a tinny mail-coach quality about their tones,
with now and again strange sounds, as of
braying, very distressing. But there was that
in store which was to make up for all short
comings.

It had been kept a profound secret, and
only suffered to leak out—-designedly—-within
the last twenty-four hours, that Mrs. Grey
Malkyn had been induced to come before the
public, and give a faint reflex of the late
incomparable Mr. Braham's manner.
Indescribable, therefore, was the excitement when,
at this particular juncture, Mrs. Grey Malkyn,
in rich black velvet and bugles, was
seen to step forward from a front row, and
to be assisted on to the platform by two
stewards with wands.

People in the back rows stood up, stretching
forward eagerly to catch a view of the
famous lady who had sat at the feet of the
departed Braham. Greater still was the
sensation when, as Mendelssohn Jackson allowed
his fingers to wander carelessly over the keys
by way of preludio, she gathered herself up
in all her strength and beauty, looking round
on the company assembled with infinite grace
and composure.

When perfect stillness had been restored,
it became understood—-from a certain
thrilling sound heard, as it were, afar off, beyond
the area of the concert-room—-that Mrs.
Malkyn was already on the first note of her
air. Men looked at each other and at the
ceiling, in astonishment. What did it mean?
This was Mr. Braham's happy method of
surprise; for she was elaborating that note
in a fashion truly marvellous—-making capital,
as it were, of it; now swelling on it, now
letting it subside, now swelling on it again,
now imparting to it a fluttering motion.
The slow movement was lengthened out with
infinite skill. The quicker portion led off in
the old roystering Trafalgar's Bay manner.
Altogether, it was a fine reading. At its
close tumultuous applause, and a bouquet
observed to wing its flight from the centre of
the house. Re-demanded, of course.

That was the pearl and flower of our
concerts. There were others; but it was
to that opening-night we looked back with
fond and reverential feelings. Afterwards,
I grieve to say, a sort of indifference
sprang up in the public mind, which did not
encourage us to pursue the experiment.
In course of time, Belmore Jones was
drafted away to London, which blow may be
said to have extinguished the society. And
though we brought down Mrs. G. Malkyn
once more—-feeling that there was much in
the prestige of her name—-yet, the
attendance was so scant, the public apathy so
marked, to say nothing of the heavy charges
for hire of rooms, lighting, and the like, that
we saw at once it was no use casting our
pearls before——the ungracious word had
best be left unspoken.