resolving not to talk, — more laudable than possible. Would it be too brave to weave these into the improvising ?
"TO A. C. SWINBURNE.
" I dare not rhyme within the poet's court,
Nor shake my jingling bells against his harp ;
But if my greeting can but solace him,
If all unconsciously he hear my voice
Cry * Elder brother, hail! God comfort thee,
And give to thee a golden harp one day ; '
If he can feel a friend's hand in the dark,
Then I am glad : if not, I am content
To reverence in silence."
Here are a few touches of her love of children, and her conscious appreciation of their unconscious humour : —
" Her song to ' Heartsease ' (she is speaking of a dear friend), is dedicated to me, and my little book ' Rainbows in Spring ' is dedicated to her nephew, Bertie, such a loveable child, especially when he is naughty. The other day, for some misdemeanour, he was dismissed from the dinner-table by his mamma. Bertie finding himself landed with his little plate in the bedroom, not unnaturally objected, remonstrating through the keyhole — ' I can't eat my dinner in here — a bedroom isn't the proper place to eat dinners in ; I won't have my dinner here.' ' Then you will go without,' said the mother. 'Very well,' said Bertie, re- signedly, ' then I shan't have my dinner, and then I shall be ill, and then I shall die ; and when I am dead I will fetch a police- man, and you shall be hanged.' A tolerable notion of climac- teric oratory for a child of four years old. But Bertie has his
