No less than four choruses and four airs had to be repeated, and in the whole of the first part there was not a single mistake. In the second there were one a or two, but these very insignificant. A young English tenor sang the last air most beautifully, so much so that I had to pull myself together not to let my feelings hinder me from beating time decently. As I said before, would you had been there! To-morrow is my return. Nowadays one does not, like Goethe, see the carriage-pole pointed homewards, but I still have always the same feeling when I am starting back to my own country. In October I hope to see you in Berlin, and will bring the scene, either to perform in public or to play it in secret to you and Fanny and Rebecca, the first probably, but by all means the second also. Farewell, my dear brother, and excuse this letter if it is stupid. I am often much distracted, and all I have really to say is to thank you for your interest in my "Elijah" and the help you have given me.
Yours, Felix.
