At the Leeds Festival in October of the same year Sullivan's cantata, The Golden Legend, made the instant and popular appeal it richly deserved. His simple-minded Elsie put both Dvorák's Bohemian saint and my Arab chief into a modest corner. As on the first occasion, despite present-day opinions, I never hear the touching Epilogue (and other portions) without a moistening eye; nor am I in the least ashamed of the fact.