e again that you are not offended, and I shan't believe
_that_ till you promise once again to come. Now, promise'--holding
both my hands. Of course I promised, wondering how many smaller men
would have shown the same courtesy. For some reason on my part, which
I now forget, that appointment was never kept, and I saw him no more.

"As I stood in Poet's Corner that bitter day of last January, and saw
him put to rest, I could not but think of him as I had seen him last,
with the sunlight on his white hair, and I felt his warm hands, and
heard his kindly voice saying, 'Now, promise!' and I could but think
of that meeting as a tryst not broken, but deferred. And as I thought
again of that life, so rich, so vivid, so complete; of that strong
soul which looked ever forth, and saw promise of clear awaking to
something nobler than the sweetest dream, I knew that here, at least,
was one to whom death could do no wrong."

--Adapted from _Littell's Living Age_.

[Illustration: ALFRED TENNYSON
From a photograph from life]

XXX

KNIGHT'S REMINISCENCE OF TENNYSON

William Knight, a celebrated Scotch professor and the great expounder
of the life and poetry of Wordsworth, in 1890 spent two days with
Tennyson at Farringford. In an English magazine he has published his
reminiscence of that visit. After relating the feelings of respect and
the reverential sentiment with which he approached the place he says:
"In the avenue leading to the house, the spreading trees just opening
into leaf, with spring flowers around and beneath--yellow cowslips and
blue forget-me-nots--and the song of birds in the branches overhead,
seemed a fitting prelude to all that followed. Shortly after I was
seated in the ante-room, the poet's son appeared, and, as his father
was engaged, he said, 'Come and see my mother.' We went into the
drawing-room, where the old lady was reclining on a couch. Immediately
the lines beginning 'Such age, how beautiful' came into mind. No one
could ever forget his first sight of Lady Tennyson, her graciousness,
and the radiant though fragile beauty of old age. Both her eye and her
voice had an inexpressible charm. She inquired with much interest for
the widow of one of my colleagues at the University, who used formerly
to live in the island, close to Farringford, and whose family were
friends as well as near neighbors. Soon afterwards Tennyson entered,
and almost at once proposed that we should g