nd, as well as for many other things. Edwards was very kind
to me in many ways for years. Legros I found very interesting. There
was in Edwards' studio the unique _complete_ collection of the etchings
of Meryon, which we examined. Legros remarked of the incredibly long-
continued industry manifested in some of the pictures, that lunatics
often manifested it to a high degree. Meryon, as is known, was mad. I
had etched a very little myself and was free of the fraternity.

Within a few days Mr. Strahan, the publisher, took me to Mr. (now Lord)
Tennyson's reception, where I met with many well-known people. Among
them were Lady Charlotte Locker and Miss Jean Ingelow. These ladies,
with great kindness, finding that I was married, called on Mrs. Iceland,
and invited us to dine. I became a constant visitor for years at Miss
Ingelow's receptions, where I have met Ruskin, Mr. and Mrs. S. C. Hall
(whom I had seen in 1848), Calverly, Edmund Gosse, Hamilton Aide, Mr. and
Mrs Alfred Hunt. I conversed with Tennyson, but little passed between us
on that occasion. I got to know him far better "later on."

I here anticipate by several years two interviews which I had with
Tennyson in 1875, who had _ad interim_ been deservedly "lauded into
Lordliness," and which, to him at least, were amusing enough to be
recalled. The first was at a dinner at Lady Franklin's, and her niece
Miss Cracroft. And here I may, in passing, say a word as to the
extraordinary kindly nature of Lady Franklin. I think it was almost as
soon as we became acquainted that she, learning that I suffered at times
from gout, sent me a dozen bottles of a kind of bitter water as a cure.

There were at the dinner as guests Mr. Tennyson, Sir Samuel and Lady
Baker, Dr. Quain, and myself. There was no lack of varied anecdote,
reminiscences of noted people and of travel; but by far the most
delightful portion of it all was to watch the gradual unfreezing of
Tennyson, and how from a grim winter of taciturnity, under the glowing
influence of the sun of wine, as the Tuscan Redi hath it--

"Dell' Indico Oriente
Domator glorioso il Dio di Vino . . .
Di quel Sol, che in Ciel vedete . . ."--

he passed into a glorious summer of genial feeling. I led unto it
thus:--My friend Professor Palmer and I had projected a volume of songs
in English Romany or Gypsy, which is by far the sweetest and most
euphonious language in Europe. My friend had translated "Home they