AN EPISODE OF HENEY IEVING 193 



' Angels ever bright and fair.' When I had finished, the 

 aforesaid great lady remarked, ' Don't know whether you 

 are aware of it, Miss Dawson Turner, but you sang that 

 song quite out of time.' 



Very much embarrassed, I was beginning to apologise, 

 when Sir Henry, or rather Mr. Henry Irving, as he was then, 

 jumped on to the platform, and said for the benefit of the 

 audience, ' No doubt her ladyship is right, but in my opinion 

 that song requires the time broken for the expression.' 



1 That may be very well, Mr. Irving, with an ordinary 

 composer, but it does not do with Handel.' 



' Ah, when I'm reciting Shakespeare doubtless you would 

 like me to count four at the full stops and two at the commas, 

 but for my part I prefer the time broken for the expression.' 



It was very kind of Mr. Irving to defend such a young 

 girl as I was then, and Cousin Joseph was so pleased that 

 he at once asked my champion to come down to Kew and 

 spend a day at the earliest opportunity. 



Our life at Kew was as simple as it was happy. With 

 regard to meals, as in everything else, Cousin Joseph was 

 abstemious. There was breakfast at half-past eight, luncheon, 

 or rather dinner, at one o'clock two courses as a rule, and 

 some very light wine, and no afternoon tea unless there were 

 visitors down from London, and he thought they would like 

 it. His own evening meal, consisting of tea and cold meat 

 of some kind, was at seven, with nothing else afterwards. 



Cousin Joseph liked us young people to talk with him at 

 meals and other times, but to talk subjects, not people. I 

 remember that I would often read a newspaper or book with 

 the special purpose of finding some topic likely to please and 

 interest him when we met at table. When we drove into 

 London with him, he would tell us the names of the big 

 houses and their owners, and then expect us to know them 

 as we drove back. If Eeggie, his youngest son, was in the 

 carriage, he would tell him to count the different trees we 

 passed, his idea being, of course, to teach us to be observant. 

 He would always take us himself to see the pictures at the 

 Eoyal Academy, and he was, I remember, a great admirer 

 of Leader's landscapes, Hook's seapieces, and Poynter's 

 work. He was less appreciative of the after-dinner speeches 

 at Eoyal Academy dinners, and I remember his saying 



