"Even when annoyed he was seldom abrupt or impatient. His voice had gone, but he would employ its _beaux restes_ to impart an idea for the proper emission of a note or phrasing of a passage. His sounds never failed to convey the desired suggestion. Though his own voice trembled with the weight of years, he never brought out a pupil with the slightest tremolo: moreover, he was never guilty of forcing a voice. His first rule was ever to repress the breathing power, and to bring it into proper proportion with the resisting force of the throat and larynx. "Among the aspirants who came to study at Bentinck Street were several whose names yet enjoy universal reputation. "He always played his own accompaniments for teaching, and in the 'Seventies' was a very fair pianist. He had at that time a Russian pupil, an excellent baritone, with whom he was fond of taking part in duets for four hands. They used to play Schubert's marches, &c., whenever the master could find time (which was not very often); and at the end of a delightful half-hour of this recreation he would exclaim, 'What fine practice for my stiff old fingers! How I wish I could get more of it!' "One of his most intimate friends at that period was Joseph Joachim, for whom, alike as a man and a musician, he cherished the warmest admiration and regard. When the great violinist received the honorary degree of Mus. Doc. in 1877, Señor Garcia paid him the highest compliment in his power, by making the journey to Cambridge especially, in order to be present at the ceremony and to attend the concert given by the University Musical Society. I had the privilege of accompanying him on that occasion, and sat beside him both at the rehearsal and the concert, Mr (now Sir) Villiers Stanford being the conductor. How he revelled in Joachim's performance of the Beethoven concerto! Every note of that masterpiece, as it issued from the fingers of its noblest interpreter, seemed to afford him most exquisite delight. He was also impressed by the first symphony of Brahms (given as the 'exercise' for his doctor's degree, conferred _in absentiâ_), and considered it not only a fine work, but a remarkable example of reticence in a composer whose powers had attained maturity long before. We returned to town after the concert, but in spite of the fatigue involved by this lengthy 'outing,' the maestro was at his labours at the usual hour next morning, and feeling, as he expressed it, 'Frais comme un jeune lion.'