fluence meant. As it is, he was known by
half-a-dozen friends. He was worthy of being Ba's father--out of the
whole world, only he, so far as my experience goes. She loved him,--and
_he_ said, very recently, while gazing at her portrait, that only that
picture had put into his head that there might be such a thing as the
worship of the images of saints. My sister will come and live with
me henceforth. You see what she loses. All her life has been spent in
caring for my mother, and seventeen years after that, my father. You may
be sure she does not rave and rend hair like people who have plenty to
atone for in the past; but she loses very much. I returned to London
last night. . . .'

During his hurried journey to Paris, Mr. Browning was mentally blessing
the Emperor for having abolished the system of passports, and thus
enabled him to reach his father's bedside in time. His early Italian
journeys had brought him some vexatious experience of the old order of
things. Once, at Venice, he had been mistaken for a well-known Liberal,
Dr. Bowring, and found it almost impossible to get his passport 'vise';
and, on another occasion, it aroused suspicion by being 'too good';
though in what sense I do not quite remember.

Miss Browning did come to live with her brother, and was thenceforward
his inseparable companion. Her presence with him must therefore be
understood wherever I have had no special reason for mentioning it.

They tried Dinard for the remainder of the summer; but finding it
unsuitable, proceeded by St.-Malo to Le Croisic, the little sea-side
town of south-eastern Brittany which two of Mr. Browning's poems have
since rendered famous.

The following extract has no date.

Le Croisic, Loire Inferieure.

'. . . We all found Dinard unsuitable, and after staying a few days at
St. Malo resolved to try this place, and well for us, since it serves
our purpose capitally. . . . We are in the most delicious and peculiar
old house I ever occupied, the oldest in the town--plenty of great
rooms--nearly as much space as in Villa Alberti. The little town, and
surrounding country are wild and primitive, even a trifle beyond Pornic
perhaps. Close by is Batz, a village where the men dress in white from
head to foot, with baggy breeches, and great black flap hats;--opposite
is Guerande, the old capital of Bretagne: you have read about it in
Balzac's 'Beatrix',--and other interesting places are near. The sea is
all round our p