owed that the enigmatical
character attributed to his poetry by some of his critics was to him a
good joke. I have no doubt he must have enjoyed the Douglas Jerrold
story, that Jerrold, in endeavoring to read 'Sordello,' thought he had
lost his mind.

"But to Browning's story. He said, 'I was visited by the Chinese
minister and his attaches, without having been previously informed of
their coming. Before they entered, I had noticed from my window a
crowd in the street, which had been attracted by the celestials in
their national rigs, who were just then getting out of their
carriages, I not knowing then what manner of visitors I was to have.
Soon the interpreter announced at the drawing-room door, "His
Excellency, the Chinese Minister and his attaches." As they entered,
the interpreter presented them, individually, first, of course, his
Excellency, the Minister, and then the rest in order of rank. It was
quite an impressive occasion. Recovering myself, I said to the
interpreter: "To what am I indebted for this great honor?" He replied:
"You are a distinguished poet in your country, and so is his
Excellency in his." We did obeisance to each other. I then asked the
character of his Excellency's poetry. The interpreter replied,
"Chiefly poetical enigmas." Grasping his Excellency's hand, I said, "I
salute you as a brother."'

"Browning told this story while walking up and down the room. When he
said, 'I salute you as a brother,' he made the motion of a most hearty
hand-shake."

Mrs. Arthur Bronson, than whom Mr. Browning never had a more sympathetic
and all-comprehending friend, said that if she tried to recall Robert
Browning's words it was as though she had talked to a being apart from
other men. "My feeling may seem exaggerated," she smiled, "but it was only
natural, when considering my vivid sense of his moral and intellectual
greatness. His talk was not abstruse and intricate, like some of his
writings. Far from it. As a rule he seemed rather to avoid deep and
serious subjects. There was no loss, for everything he chose to say was
well said. A familiar story, grave or gay, when clothed with his words,
and accentuated by his expressive gestures and the mobility of his
countenance, had all the charm of novelty; while a comic anecdote from his
lips sparkled with wit, born of his own keen sense of humor. I found in
him that