man, in pale gray suit, including frock coat of identical tint and texture, moving about among the company, conversing with different groups, and occasionally consulting his watch,” which seemed to be” no bigger than an agate stone on the forefinger of an alderman.”  Whiskerless, beardless, fair of hair, and pale and thin of face, his appearance was “interesting and conspicuous,” and when, “after a final glance at his miniature horologe, he ascended the platform and placed himself at the instrument, he at once commanded attention.”  Dr. Hedderwick says it was a drawing-room entertainment, more piano than forte, though not without occasional episodes of both strength and grandeur.  It was perfectly clear to him that Chopin was marked for an early grave.

So far as can be ascertained, there are now living only two members of that Glasgow audience of 1848.  One of the two is Julius Seligmann, the veteran president of the Glasgow Society of Musicians, who, in response to some inquiries on the subject, writes as follows: 

“Several weeks before the concert Chopin lived with different friends or pupils on their invitations, in the surrounding counties.  I think his pupil Miss Jane Stirling had something to do with all the general arrangements.  Muir Wood managed the special arrangements of the concert, and I distinctly remember him telling me that he never had so much difficulty in arranging a concert as on this occasion.  Chopin constantly changed his mind.  Wood had to visit him several times at the house of Admiral Napier, at Milliken Park, near Johnstone. but scarcely had he returned to Glasgow when he was summoned back to alter something.  The concert was given in the Merchant Hall, Hutcheson street, now the County Buildings.  The hall was about three-quarters filled.  Between Chopin’s playing Madame Adelasio de Margueritte, daughter of a well-known London physician, sang, and Mr. Muir accompanied her.  Chopin was evidently very ill.  His touch was very feeble, and while the finish, grace, elegance and delicacy of his performances were greatly admired by the audience, the want of power made his playing somewhat monotonous.  I do not remember the whole programme, but he was encored for his well-known mazurka in B flat (op. 7, No. 1), which he repeated with quite different nuances from those of the first time.  The audience was very aristocratic, consisting mostly of ladies, among whom were the then Duchess of Argyll and her sister, Lady Blantyre.”

The other survivor is George Russell Alexander, son of the proprietor of the Theatre Royal, Dunlop street, who in a letter to the writer remarks especially upon Chopin’s pale, cadaverous appearance.  “My emotion,” he says, “was so great that two or three times I was compelled to retire from the room to recover myself.  I have heard all the best and most celebrated stars of the musical firmament, but never one has left such an impress