DEAREST A.,--We arrived here, as we intended, on the 27th.... We easily found Garcia's address, and drove there without delay. I was very anxious to see the "greatest singing master in the world," and there he was standing before me, looking very much as I had imagined him; but not like any one I had ever seen before. He has grayish hair and a black mustache, expressive big eyes, and such a fascinating smile! Mama said, having heard of his great reputation, she wished that he would consent to give me a _few_ lessons. He smiled, and answered that, if I would kindly sing something for him, he could better judge how much teaching I required. I replied--I was so sure of myself--that, if he would accompany "Qui la voce," I would sing that. "Ha, ha!" he cried, with a certain sarcasm. "By all means let us have that," and sat down before the piano while I spread out the music before him. I sang, and thought I sang very well; but he just looked up into my face with a very quizzical expression, and said, "How long have you been singing, Mademoiselle?" Mama answered for me before I could speak. "She has sung, Monsieur, since she was a very small child." He was not at all impressed by this, but said, "I thought so." Then he continued. "You say you would like to take some lessons of me?" I was becoming very humble, and said, meekly, that I hoped he would give me some. "Well, Mademoiselle, you have a very wonderful voice, but you have not the remotest idea how to sing." What a come-down! I, who thought I had only to open my mouth to be admired, and only needed a _few_ finishing touches to make me perfect, to be told that I had "not the remotest idea how to sing"! Mama and I both gasped for breath, and I could have cried for disappointment as well as mortification. However, I felt he was right, and, strange to say, mama felt so too. He said, "Take six months' rest and don't sing a single note, then come back to me." When he saw the crestfallen look on my face, he added, kindly, "Then we shall see something wonderful." We leave for Dresden this evening.... Love to all. Your humble LILLIE. LONDON, _May, 1860._ DEAR A.,--I have not written since we left the kind V. Rensselaers in Dresden. Mama must have given you all the details of our life there.... I hope, now that I have studied French, German, and Italian like a good little girl for six months and not "sung a single note," that I may venture to present myself before the great Garcia again.