From thence Emral, the large, the venerable, and ancient seat of the Palistons, near Wrexham, where my friend Mrs Price now resides, received me. When she heard of our friends Mr Saville and his daughter being at Park-Gate, she wrote to them, expressing kind hopes that the Nightingales would not fly so near without visiting her bower. In consequence of this letter, they joined us at Emral, and Mr Hayman, also one of the best dilettanti singers in England. Mrs Price sent her chaise to Wrexham for Randall and his harp. The force, the pathos, the imagination, the elegance with which he wakes the living strings, are transcendent. He took our imprisoned spirits, and “wrapt them in Elysium.” Nor less was he charmed with the vocal duetts and trios of our syrenic friends.