Remembering, however, to whom he was writing, he took the trouble to make his communication as bewildering as possible by dividing the words thus:—
"Iw ill remain he re so—m—eti—me long er an d wheni n tow nIw il lw rite t oyo u.
"Ho ping to fin d you ing oo d hel than dv oic e, I rem ain y our strul y M. GARCI A.."
Often at the close of a lesson he used to ask me to stay to tea, and in the summer we would adjourn to the garden, where the table would be spread beneath the inviting shadow of the trees. Those would be red-letter days indeed.
On these occasions the maestro would leave thoughts of singing behind him, and show his wide interests and deep insight into all the questions of the day. Once when conversation had turned upon violin-playing, there came up the name of Kubelik, who had come out in London a few weeks previously. After four years' pupilage, I was not surprised to learn that he had already been to hear the new instrumentalist. I must, however, confess to having been somewhat startled when, with the greatest sangfroid, he began comparing the execution with that of Paganini. At other times he would speak of Joseph Chamberlain and the newest developments of Fiscalities, the building of sky-scrapers in New York, the drama of the day, or the Spanish War. One day he even showed himself quite ready to discuss the pros and cons of Christian science.
FACSIMILE OF A LETTER WRITTEN BY MANUEL GARCIA AT THE AGE OF NINETY-NINE.
My lessons came to a close in April of 1900, when the maestro was in his ninety-sixth year.
When in due course the time came for making my first provincial tour, he wrote several letters on the subject, of which I quote three, as being typical of the trouble which he was ever ready to take, and the wisdom of the advice which he would give.
"MON ABRI," CRICKLEWOOD.