alking awhile longer, and partaking of
cake and wine, we would leave to meet a few days later. This was the
last time Landor sat for his picture.

* * * * *

Landor could never have greatly admired Italian music, although he spoke
in high praise of the singing of Catalani, a _prima donna_ whom he knew
and liked personally. He was always ready to point out the absurdity of
many operatic situations and conventionalities, and often confessed that
he had been rarely to the theatre. But that he was exceedingly fond of
old English, Scotch, and German ballads, I had the best possible
evidence. Frequently he entered our rooms, saying playfully, "I wish to
make a bargain with you. I will give you these flowers if you will give
me a song!" I was only too happy to comply, thinking the flowers very
cheaply purchased. While I sang Italian cavatinas, Landor remained away
from the piano, pleased, but not satisfied. At their conclusion he used
to exclaim, "Now for an English ballad!" and would seat himself beside
the piano, saying, "I must get nearer to hear the words. These old deaf
ears treat me shabbily!" "Kathleen Mavourneen," Schubert's "Ave Maria,"
and "Within a Mile of Edinboro' Town," were great favorites with him;
but "Auld Robin Gray" came first in his affections and was the ballad he
always asked for. Upon first hearing it, the tears streamed down his
face, and with a sigh he said: "I have not heard that for many, many
years. It takes me back to very happy days, when ---- used to sing to
me. Ah, you did not know what thoughts you were recalling to the
troublesome old man." As I turned over the leaves he added, "Ah, Landor!
when you were younger, you knew how to turn over the leaves: you've
forgotten all your accomplishments!"

Apropos of old songs, Landor has laid his offering upon their neglected
altar. I shall not forget that evening at Casa Guidi--I can forget no
evening passed there--when, just as the tea was being placed upon the
table. Robert Browning turned to Landor, who was that night's honored
guest, gracefully thanked him for his defence of old songs, and, opening
the "Last Fruit," read in his clear, manly voice the following passages
from the Idyls of Theocritus: "We often hear that such or such a thing
'is not worth an old song.' Alas! how very few things are! What precious
recollections do some of them awaken! what pleasurable tears do they
excite! They purify the stream of life