me of Mr. Browning was, as already stated, in Camberwell, a suburb
then of less easy access than now, and where there were green trees, and
groves, and enticing rural perspectives into "real" country, yet withal
not without some suggestion of the metropolitan air.

"The old trees
Which grew by our youth's home--the waving mass
Of climbing plants, heavy with bloom and dew--
The morning swallows with their songs like words--
All these seem clear....
...most distinct amid
The fever and the stir of after years."

(_Pauline_.)

Another great writer of our time was born in the same parish: and those
who would know Herne Hill and the neighbourhood as it was in Browning's
youth will find an enthusiastic guide in the author of _Praeterita_.

Browning's childhood was a happy one. Indeed, if the poet had been able
to teach in song only what he had learnt in suffering, the larger part
of his verse would be singularly barren of interest. From first to last
everything went well with him, with the exception of a single profound
grief. This must be borne in mind by those who would estimate aright the
genius of Robert Browning. It would be affectation or folly to deny that
his splendid physique--a paternal inheritance, for his father died at
the age of eighty-four, without having ever endured a day's illness--and
the exceptionally fortunate circumstances which were his throughout
life, had something to do with that superb faith of his which finds
concentrated expression in the lines in Pippa's song--"God's in His
Heaven, All's right with the world!"

It is difficult for a happy man with an imperturbable digestion to be a
pessimist. He is always inclined to give Nature the benefit of the
doubt. His favourite term for this mental complaisance is "catholicity
of faith," or, it may be, "a divine hope." The less fortunate brethren
bewail the laws of Nature, and doubt a future readjustment, because of
stomachs chronically out of order. An eminent author with a weak
digestion wrote to me recently animadverting on what he calls Browning's
insanity of optimism: it required no personal acquaintanceship to
discern the dyspeptic well-spring of this utterance. All this may be
admitted lightly without carrying the physiological argument to
extremes. A man may have a liberal hope for himself and for humanity,
although his dinner