[To THE EDITOR OF THE ..srEctitori.1 Sin,—Mr. Lionel Tollemache's letter
in the Spectator of November 21st respecting Mr. Gladstone's voice reminds me of thirty-five years ago. The following is copied from my diary of January 14th, 1868 :— " On Saturday we drove to Hawarden to an amateur concert, chiefly by Mr. Gladstone's children and their cousins, the Lyttel- tons and Glynnes. Mr. and Mrs. Gladstone joined in the choruses, but the chief treat was to hear him take the solo in two verses of the National Anthem,—viz., Thy choicest gifts in store' and May she defend our laws.' His voice was soft and extremely pleasant to listen to. Of the multitudes who have listened to his speaking voice, but few have heard him sing."
I will finish with another extract :— " February 3,1868.—We drove to Hawarden to hear Mr. Glad- stone on Sir Walter Scott. He sat down and talked for an hour very beautifully. He placed Scott as a depicter of character next after Homer and Shakespeare. Of his works he gave the first place to The Bride of Lammermoor' and Kenilworth.' He spoke with emotion of Scott's intellect failing from overwork. Perhaps he felt a similar danger in his own ease. Then why- does he bother his head with Greek and suchlike when he's got enough to do with Disraeli ?"
—I am, Sir, &c., E. M. J.
P.5.—Since writing the preceding I opened the Spectator of November 28th and find a review of Bon Gaultier's "Book of Ballads." This carries me back twenty years earlier than the reminiscence of Mr. Gladstone. In the early " forties " some far-seeing Scotchmen pounced on the district of Wrexham as a good field for railways to carry off its minerals. The leading engineer was Mr. Henry Robertson, afterwards M.P. for Shrewsbury. Among his friends who came to the bookseller's shop where I was apprentice were Professor Aytoun and Theodore Martin. It is a pleasant coinci denee that Mr. Gladstone should have lived twelve miles nortk
and Sir Theodore lives about twelve miles west of Wrexham. The "Book of Ballads" was a hit from the first. One verse always stands out in my memory. It is the last of the verses "To a Forget-me-not"
:- "And I must bow me to thy laws, For—odd although it may be thought— I can't tell who the deuce it was That gave me this Forget-me-not !"
—E. M. J.
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