ROBERT BROWNING.

On their return to London the letters to Mrs. Bronson again resume the
story of this interesting life:

"... I have got rid of my last proof-sheets, and all of a sudden it
occurs to me to ask--now that alteration is impossible, I
suppose--whether I have offended in just dating the last poem from the
place where I wrote it--the Giustiniani? The first poem was dated at
the inn, and the last seemed to belong to the beloved place where it
was penned, as I wanted to remember, or be remembered, rather. Have I
done wrong? (I hear at this moment my sister actually singing in the
next room,--so completely is she re-established in health.) By letters
we find that the admirable weather at St. Moritz was continued up to
the end of the last week; here the weather is fine, and finer than
usual, but the sparkle is off the wine, the wonderful freshness of St.
Moritz does not incline one to dance rather than walk.

"I am in absolute peace and quietude, and so thoroughly prepared to
enjoy your coming,--if that may be...."

The next letter speaks of American friends:

19, WARWICK CRESCENT, W.

Oct. 14, '84.

DEAREST FRIEND,--I waited a little before replying to your letter,
wanting to be sure when I could say that Pen would be in Paris; he
proposed to go there yesterday, and you will certainly have a visit
from him as soon as he can manage to do what I know he desires very
much.

Here are your verses which I try to be as severe about as possible,
with no success, at all, worth speaking of! You will take my
corrections (infinitesimal, this time) for what they are worth, and
continue to send me what you write, will you not?

I was surprised two days ago by a note from Mr. Lowell, inviting me
and my sister to meet the Storys at dinner to-morrow, they being his
guests during a short stay in London; and yesterday afternoon they
called on my sister, both the Storys and Mr. Lowell; the former are
flourishing, and go in a few days to Rome. Where they have passed the
summer, we were not told. Last evening at a dinner given by Sidney
Colvin, I met Mr. James, who showed great interest in hearing how you
were, and how much nearer you were likely to be. On the other hand,
there will be a sad visitor to Venice presently, Professor Huxley, in
a deplorable state of health, from