On the 7th of May, it was in 1889, Browning came in after luncheon. "It
is my birthday to-day," he said, "and so I came to sit with you and your
wife for a while, if you'll let me."

I rejoiced, and at once thought of work in his presence, always a source
of double pleasure to me. My wife thought of the pleasure it would give
her to offer him some little present by way of marking the happy day.

"I have been out model-hunting this morning," I told him, "and have
caught the very specimen I wanted for the boy lolling against the door
of the public-house in the 'Drink' picture. I was in luck; for I went to
Victoria Station with the definite purpose of finding a typical
'Cheeky,' and I found him. He is just having a square meal as an
introduction to business, and I am burning to paint him and his cheek.
Will you come in with me and let me start?"

"The very thing I should like to see you do," said Browning, and we
adjourned to the Studio. Little Cheeky, the veriest young vagabond,
uncombed and untamed, cap over ear and cigarette-stump in mouth, was
happily transferred to canvas in an hour or two, and his effigy has ever
since remained with me in memory of the friend who sat by me on that
day. In the meanwhile my wife had bethought herself of a little piece of
antique embroidery framed and under glass, which, but lately, we had
picked up in Rome; that seemed worthy to be offered to Browning, and she
pressed him to accept it, but in vain. Warmly she persisted, firmly he
resisted. At last, and lest he should displease or pain her, he said--

"Well, my dear friend, let us make a compromise. You keep it for me for
a year and give it to me on my next birthday."

We have it still! He was never to see that next birthday!

He died on the 12th of December in the Palazzo Rezzonico in Venice.

When Pen's telegram with the fatal news reached me I was standing by
another deathbed.

On the last day of the year 1889 he was buried in Westminster Abbey. It
had been proposed to transfer the remains of Elizabeth Barrett Browning
from Florence to be laid by the side of her husband, but the idea was
abandoned as not being likely to meet with the approval of the
municipality and the English colony of that city. Browning himself had
never expressed any wish on the subject of his resting-place, further
than mentioning on one occasion the Norwood Cemetery as a fitting place,
and saying that, if he died in Paris, he wished to be buried near