Hardly more than a brief record is required of M. de Pachmann's last pianoforte recital of the season in St. James's-hall on Saturday; for the pianist essayed nothing new, and played only familiar works with the remarkable facility, fluency, and delicacy which are characteristic of him. Weber's sonata in A flat is shorn at his hands of its usual tendency to dulness, and Bach's Italian concerto was given, as he has often given it, with a sense of romance that is absence from most pianists' Bach. Schubert, Mendelssohn, Schumann, and Chopin, were administered in small doses with ready deftness and with complete enjoyment to pianist and audience. It is all very well for M. de Pachmann to request his audience to be serious as he did on Saturday. The scenes of which he was the hero render seriousness a difficult matter. Still, there is so much seriousness—not to say solemnity—in concert-rooms nowadays, that preliminary frivol does little harm; and after all, there is no reason why a great pianist should not enjoy the music he plays as well as the audience to whom he plays it.