The Vicar received a notable letter from the late Lord Salisbury, the Premier; they had been at Eton and Christ Church together, and Lord Salisbury was godfather to the Vicar’s eldest son.  The Vicar had written of the fortune he had inherited, and spoke of some rooks as having brought the luck by building, for the first time, in an elm-tree in the vicarage grounds.  Lord Salisbury, in sending a donation of L25 to the restoration fund, added:  “I see a great many rooks building near my house” (Hatfield), “but the luck has not come to me yet.”  The Vicar’s comment to me was:  “If the luck has not yet come to Lord Salisbury, I don’t see how anyone can hope for it!”

The Malvern concert was a strenuous undertaking; Badsey being a long way from Malvern, it was necessary to interest the inhabitants and to some extent to plead in forma pauperis, for we were really a poor parish without any large resident landowners.  The first thing was to get a good list of influential local patrons; and as soon as Lady Emily Foley consented, the promoters felt that the work was half done.  Lady Emily Foley was supreme at Malvern, a very distinguished old lady and most popular, but perhaps a little alarming.

On the day of the two concerts I was detailed with a troop of young men, relatives of the patrons, to conduct the people to their seats, and an elaborate plan of the large Assembly Room was given me, with minute particulars of the lettered rows and numbered seats, presenting the appearance, somewhat, of a labyrinth.  I was studying it at the doors, and arranging with the young stewards as to their individual functions, when I heard an alarmed exclamation from one of them:  “Look out! here comes Lady Emily Foley!” In an instant the whole crowd took to their heels and disappeared down the corridor.  With some little difficulty I succeeded in finding the seats of Lady Emily Foley’s party, but I could see that she regarded me as a rather feeble cicerone.

She was, however, exceedingly gracious after my wife’s first solo, which pleased her so much that we had to make an exception in this case, and allow an encore by her special request, though it had been arranged, owing to the length of the programme, that no encores were to be given.  Lady Alwyne Compton, wife of the Dean of Worcester, very kindly assisted as a performer, my wife having frequently sung at charity concerts and entertainments for her in Worcester and the neighbourhood, among them a recital by Mr. Brandram of A Midsummer-Night’s Dream, when she undertook the soprano solos occurring in the play, at the Worcester Guildhall.  Lady Alwyne Compton was very musical, and rehearsals were held in the stone-vaulted crypt beneath the Deanery, a place of splendid acoustic properties, which intensified the sound without coarsening it, and brought the voice back to the singer in a way unknown on the usual platform, decorated with screens, curtains, and flags, and obstructed by floral impedimenta.