Our postman, though not a villager, was quite an institution; he walked a matter of ten miles a day from Evesham to Bretforton, taking Aldington and Badsey on the way, and back at night.  He filled up the interval between the incoming and outgoing posts at Bretforton, working at his trade as tailor.  Entering our village each evening, he announced his arrival by three blasts on his tin horn; he was very shy of being observed in this performance, and the people had to catch him as he passed and hand him their letters.  He must have walked nearly 100,000 miles in the many years he was our postman, and he told me before I left that more letters were addressed to the Manor when I first came, than to all the rest of the houses in the village together.  When correspondence became more general a pillar-box was erected, but I always regretted the loss of the familiar notes of the tin horn.

Among Aldington’s amusements no account would be complete without a reference to the numerous concerts and entertainments for charitable objects which my wife organized, and in which her musical talent enabled her to take a prominent part; and although I feel some hesitation in dealing with so personal a matter, I am certain that many of those who co-operated with her in the organization and the performance of these affairs will be pleased to have their recollections of her own part in them revived.

She possessed a natural soprano voice of great sweetness and flexibility, in combination with the sympathetic ability and clear enunciation which add so much to the charm of vocal expression.  She was not allowed to begin singing, in earnest, before she was nineteen, for fear of straining so delicate a voice, and she then had the advantage of the tuition of Signor Caravoglia, one of the most celebrated teachers of the time.

His method included deliberation in taking breath, thorough opening of the mouth, practice before a mirror to produce a pleasing effect, and to avoid facial contortion; he would not allow any visible effort, the aim being to sing as naturally and spontaneously as a bird.  His wife played the accompaniments, so that the master could give his whole attention to the attitude, production, and facial expression of the pupil.

Signer Caravoglia only consented to teach her on the express condition that she would not sing in choruses, on account of the danger of strain and overexertion.  She practised regularly, chiefly exercises, two hours a day in separate half hours.  Her talent was soon recognized at Malvern, where she lived before her marriage, and her assistance was in great demand for amateur charity concerts.