r he was hard at work on a new book, into which some of his
impressions of the East were to be wrought, so that he desired nothing
so much as quiet days. This knowledge, however, did not prevent me--_cet
age est sans pitie_--from sending with my friend's letter a note of my
own, in which I asked Mr. Ambient's leave to come down and see him for
an hour or two, on a day to be designated by himself. My proposal was
accompanied with a very frank expression of my sentiments, and the
effect of the whole projectile was to elicit from the great man the
kindest possible invitation. He would be delighted to see me, especially
if I should turn up on the following Saturday and would remain till
the Monday morning. We would take a walk over the Surrey commons, and
I could tell him all about the other great man, the one in America. He
indicated to me the best train, and it may be imagined whether on
the Saturday afternoon I was punctual at Waterloo. He carried his
benevolence to the point of coming to meet me at the little station at
which I was to alight, and my heart beat very fast as I saw his
handsome face, surmounted with a soft wide-awake, and which I knew by
a photograph long since enshrined upon my mantelshelf, scanning the
carriage windows as the train rolled up. He recognized me as infallibly
as I had recognized him; he appeared to know by instinct how a young
American of an aesthetic turn would look when much divided between
eagerness and modesty. He took me by the hand, and smiled at me, and
said: "You must be--a--_you_, I think!" and asked if I should mind going
on foot to his house, which would take but a few minutes. I remember
thinking it a piece of extraordinary affability that he should give
directions about the conveyance of my bag, and feeling altogether very
happy and rosy, in fact quite transported, when he laid his hand on my
shoulder as we came out of the station.

I surveyed him, askance, as we walked together; I had already--I had
indeed instantly--seen that he was a delightful creature. His face is
so well known that I need n't describe it; he looked to me at once
an English gentleman and a man of genius, and I thought that a happy
combination. There was just a little of the Bohemian in his appearance;
you would easily have guessed that he belonged to the guild of artists
and men of letters. He was addicted to velvet jackets, to cigarettes,
to loose shirt-collars, to looking a little dishevelled. His feature