so, Herr Bullinger?  It proceeds from this:—­The Italians are miserably represented:  they have only two musici here, and they are already old.  This race is dying out.  These soprano singers, too, would prefer singing counter-tenor; for they can no longer take the high notes.  The few boys they have are wretched.  The tenor and bass just like our singers at funerals.  Vogler, who lately conducted the mass, is barren and frivolous—­a man who imagines he can do a great deal, and does very little.  The whole orchestra dislike him.  To-day, Sunday, I heard a mass of Holzbauer’s, which is now twenty-six years old, but excellent.  He writes very well, and has a good church style, arranges the vocal parts as well as the instrumental, and writes good fugues.  They have two organists here; it would be worth while to come to Mannheim on purpose to hear them—­which I had a famous opportunity of doing, as it is the custom here for the organist to play during the whole of the Benedictus.  I heard the second organist first, and then the other.  In my opinion the second is preferable to the first; for when I heard the former, I asked, “Who is that playing on the organ?” “Our second organist.”  “He plays miserably.”  When the other began, I said, “Who may that be?” “Our first organist.”  “Why, he plays more miserably still.”  I believe if they were pounded together, something even worse would be the result.  It is enough to kill one with laughing to look at these gentlemen.  The second at the organ is like a child trying to lift a millstone.  You can see his anguish in his face.  The first wears spectacles.  I stood beside him at the organ and watched him with the intention of learning something from him; at each note he lifts his hands entirely off the keys.  What he believes to be his forte is to play in six parts, but he mostly makes fifths and octaves.  He often chooses to dispense altogether with his right hand when there is not the slightest need to do so, and plays with the left alone; in short, he fancies that he can do as he will, and that he is a thorough master of his organ.

Mamma sends her love to you all; she cannot possibly write, for she has still to say her officium.  We came home very late from the grand opera rehearsal.  I must go to-morrow after high mass to the illustrious Electress; she is resolved absolument to teach me to knit filee.  I am very eager about this, as she and the Elector wish that I should knit in public next Thursday at the great gala concert.  The young Princess here, who is a child compared with the Electress, knits very prettily.  The Zweenbruck and his Zwobrucken (Deux Ponts) arrived here at eight o’clock.  A propos, mamma and I earnestly beg you, dear papa, to send our charming cousin a souvenir; we both regretted so much having nothing with us, but we promised to write to you to send her something.  We wish two things to be sent—­a double neckerchief in mamma’s name, like the one she wears, and in mine some ornament; a box, or etui, or anything you like, only it must be pretty, for she deserves it. [Footnote:  The father was still in possession of many of the ornaments and jewels presented to these children during their artistic tours.] She and her father took a great deal of trouble on our account, and wasted much time on us.  My cousin took the receipts for me at my concert.  Addio!