nd Miss Browning might pass at least a part of every
year." The "certain property," to which Mrs. Bronson so modestly alludes,
was her own place, "La Mura." The tower has since been erected by the
poet's son, and the dream is thus fulfilled, though the elder Browning did
not live to see it. Mrs. Bronson describes his enjoyment of nature in this
lovely little hill-town,--"the ever-changing cloud shadows on the plain,
the ranges of many-tinted mountains in the distance, and the fairy-like
outline of the blue Euganean Hills, which form in part the southern
boundary of the vast Campagna." Browning would speak of the associations
which these hills bear with the names of Shelley and Byron.

Across the deep ravine from La Mura a ruined tower was all that remained
of the villa of Queen Catarina Cornaro, who, when she lost Cyprus, retired
to Asolo; and in Browning's dedication to Mrs. Bronson of his "Asolando,"
he ascribes the title to Cardinal Bembo, the secretary of Queen Catarina.
Mr. Browning loved to recall the traditions of that poetic little court,
which for two decades was held within those walls, whose decay was fairly
hidden by the wealth of flowers that embowered them. Of his own project he
would talk, declaring that he would call it "Pippa's Tower," and that it
should be so built that from it he could see Venice every day. He
playfully described the flag-signals that should aid communication between
"Pippa's Tower" and Casa Alvisi. "A telephone is too modern," he said; and
explained that when he asked his friend to dine the flag should be
blue,--her favorite color; and if her answer was yes, her flag should be
the same color; or if no, her flag should be red. This last visit of the
poet to his city of dream and vision seemed to Mrs. Bronson one of
unalloyed pleasure. "To think that I should be here again!" he more than
once exclaimed, as if with an unconscious recognition that these weeks
were to complete the cycle of his life on earth. Asolo is thirty-four
miles from Venice, and it is within easy driving distance of Possagno, the
native place of Canova, in whose memory the town has a museum filled with
his works and casts. "Pen must see this," remarked Mr. Browning, as he
lingered over the statues and groups and tombs. Mrs. Bronson records that
one day on returning from a drive to Bassano the poet was strangely
silent, and no one spoke; finally he announced that he had written a poem
since they left Bassano. In respon