h
wonderful brilliancy; the runs drop from his fingers like magic. When it
was over, all said it was a pity that we had made no cadenza; so I at
once hit upon a passage in the first part of the last Tutti, where the
orchestra has a pause, and Moscheles had, _nolens volens_, to comply,
and compose a grand cadenza. We now deliberated amid a thousand jokes
whether the small last solo should remain in its place, since, of
course, the people would applaud the cadenza. 'We must have a bit of
Tutti between the cadenza and the solo,' said I. 'How long are they to
clap their hands?' asked Moscheles. 'Ten minutes, I daresay,' said I.
Moscheles beat me down to five. I promised to supply a Tutti; and so we
took the measure, embroidered, turned and padded, put in sleeves _a la_
Mameluke, and at last, with our tailoring, produced a brilliant
concerto. We shall have another rehearsal to-day; it will be quite a
picnic, for Moscheles brings the cadenza and I the Tutti."

That golden thread of "great fun," as he calls it, goes through the
history of Mendelssohn's life. It intertwined itself with the sensitive
fibres of his nature, thus becoming an element of strength, a factor
that illuminated his path and spread bright sunshine wherever he went.
In fact I always thought one of the most delightful traits of his
character was a certain naivete, which enabled him to appreciate the
humour of a situation, and thoroughly to enjoy it with his friends. He
would turn some trivial incident to the happiest account, and in his own
peculiarly genial way, make it the starting-point for a standing joke,
or a winged word, to be handed down from generation to generation in the
families of his friends.

Amongst the many drawings of his we treasure in the family is one
humorously illustrating my father's works. It takes the shape of an
arabesque, artistically framing some lines written for the occasion of
his birthday by Klingemann. A second verse was composed for a subsequent
birthday.

When in later years, and with a view to publication, I ventured to ask
Robert Browning for an English version of those lines, he, with his
usual kindness, sent me the following letter:--

"29 DE VERE GARDENS,

_Nov. 30, '87_.

"MY DEAR MOSCHELES,--Pray forgive my delay in doing the little
piece of business with which you entrusted me: an unexpected claim
on my mornings interfered with it till just now. Will this answer
your purpose a