ndor, wrote: "The tuneful bird, inspired of old by the
Persian rose, warbled not more harmoniously its praise than you do that
of the English Rose, whom posterity will know through your beautiful
verses." Many and many a time the gray-bearded poet related incidents of
which this English Rose was the heroine, and for the moment seemed to
live over again an interesting episode of his mature years.

* * * * *

"Dear! dear! what is the old creature to do for reading-matter?" Landor
exclaimed after having exhausted his own small stock and my still
smaller one. "Shakespeare and Milton are my daily food, but at times,
you know, we require side-dishes."

"Why not subscribe to Vieusseux's Library, Mr. Landor?"

"That would be the best thing to do, would it not? Very well, you shall
secure me a six months' subscription to-morrow. And now what shall I
read? When Mr. Anthony Trollope was here, he called on me with his
brother, and a clever man he appeared to be. I have never read anything
of his. Suppose I begin with his novels?"

And so it happened that Landor read all of Anthony Trollope's works with
zest, admiring them for their unaffected honesty of purpose and truth to
nature. He next read Hood's works, and when this writer's poems were
returned to me there came with them a scrap of paper on which were named
the poems that had most pleased their reader.

"Song of a Shirt.

"To my Daughter.

"A Child embracing.

"My Heart is sick.

"False Poets and True.

"The Forsaken.

"The last stanza of Inez is beautiful."

Of the poem which heads the list, he wrote:--

"'Song of the Shirt' Strange! very strange,
This shirt will never want a change,
Nor ever will wear out so long
As Britain has a heart or tongue."

Hood commanded great love and respect from Landor. Soon the reign of G.
P. R. James set in, and when I left Florence he was still in power. I
cannot but think that a strong personal friendship had much to do with
Landor's enthusiasm for this novelist.

* * * * *

We took many drives with Landor during the spring and summer of 1861,
and made very delightful jaunts into the country. Not forgetful in the
least of things, the old man, in spite of his age, would always insist
upon taking the front seat, and was more active than many a younger man
in assisting us in and out of the carriage. "You are the most genuinely
polite man I know