April 13TH, 1832. I have been to day to hear Sir Gore Ouseley's little boy, and never was I so affected by anything in my life. I can find no words to express my astonished delight when I saw the little fellow, only six years old, sit down to the pianoforte, and commence an extemporaneous performance, which baffles all description. His large dark eyes lighted up, his whole soul seemed intent upon what he was about, and yet with all this there was such a genuine childish simplicity. I could not say half of what I feel. I am afraid this will be thought an exaggeration, but I never was an admirer of wonderful children. I have seen many who had extraordinary execution upon an instrument, but God has given this child an intuitive knowledge of the most hidden mysteries of sound—a creative power perfectly organized that surpasses belief. Read the accounts of Mozart's infancy and you have read this child's, I sat down to the piano, and while his mother held him at a distance, I endeavoured to puzzle him by the most intricate modulations, but he not only instantly named the key I was playing in, but followed every change (even when an enharmonic transition rendered it almost inappreciable to the ear) with the rapidity of thought,—he knew it, but he knew not why. In the course of playing I struck the chord of the sharp 6th—the German 6th as called by some writers, and upon resolving it in the usual way he started up and cried out "that is the sharp 6th in the key of C minor, and I can dissolve it another way." He ran to the piano, and without a moment's hesitation struck the chord, and proceeded to resolve it in a most abstruse but perfectly correct manner, and then went on modulating till he brought it back to the original key. He played me numbers of the airs he had written, all distinguished by the exquisite taste and plaintiveness of their character, some marches loud and lively with an evident idea of orchestral effect in their arrangement; indeed orchestral and dramatic effect pervades every note he plays. I can never forget the impression this scene made upon me. I am not ashamed to say that it affected me to tears. The little fellow's countenance is a noble one — very delicate, with full dark eyes, and a very prominent and expansive forehead; there is every promise of genius of the most commanding kind about him. May he live to be a second Mozart is my sincere wish; may he live to prove that an Englishman can excel in the most divine of Sciences as he can in all the rest.