[W]hen the first notes of his band peal through the Free Trade Hall, that noble, but now somewhat dingy, room becomes transformed into a fairy palace, bathed in summer sunshine, and instead of a closely packed and (except in the reserved seats) plainly-dressed audience, we see groups of gaily-attired ladies, or distinguished-looking men sauntering through the galleries of paintings or gazing on the glittering armour, or students intently absorbed in the contemplation of some remarkable work of long ago...by one accord the loungers are drawing towards the orchestra ; the discordant sounds emitted from various instruments being tortured into tune subside; a slight, fair-haired man bows slightly around, takes his place, raises his baton, and the first note of some lively overture, or it may be of some enchanting symphony, floats through the nave, enchaining the listener, who perforce almost holds his breath, lest he should lose one note of that sweet music; while over all glows the brilliant sunshine, and the scent of summer air floats through the building. Under such circumstances we first heard Charles Halle, and often as we have attended his concerts, the charm has never failed. << less