s which abundantly
covered the grave were in full blossom, even as they had bloomed
beneath those old walls when the sight of them there had induced the
poet, prescient of his coming end, to wish that he might sleep his
long sleep beneath them.

When we had all taken our places, and a eucalyptus plant, sent for the
purpose by Mr. Marsh, the American minister, had been planted on the
turf just behind the grave, the sheet which covered the medallion was
withdrawn, and a murmur of pleasure and admiration ran through
the crowd as they looked on the strikingly characteristic and
individualized presentment of the young poet's very remarkable and
striking features. I had seen the medallion before, and was therefore
at liberty to watch the effect which it produced on others; and I was
struck by the evidences in the faces of those around me that it spoke
very clearly to the hearts and imaginations of the spectators.

General Sir Vincent Eyre, who had chiefly undertaken the trouble
of directing all that had been done for putting the gravestone into
perfect repair, adorning it with flowers and plants, and putting up
the medallion, was on the ground together with Miss Clarke, who had
been entrusted with a similar labor of love from America, and who had
co-operated "heart and hand," as Sir Vincent said, with him throughout
the whole business. As soon as the pleased murmur of the crowd had
subsided he stepped in front of the persons assembled and gave
a succinct account of what had been done, and a narrative of the
singular coincidence which had led to our co-heirs in the legacy
bequeathed to us by the poet being co-operators in the work. He
concluded a very neat and appropriate address by stating that the
subscriptions sent in for the restoration of the grave had left a sum
of about sixty pounds sterling in his hands, and that he proposed that
this should be augmented by about as much more, which would suffice to
place a bust of the poet in Westminster Abbey. The proposal met with
the warm approval of the assembly, and it was determined that Dr.
Stanley, the dean of Westminster, should at once be communicated with
on the subject.

An interesting and affecting letter from Mr. Severn, the loving and
faithful friend of Keats, was read by Sir Vincent Eyre with much
feeling. It contained a few simple words to the effect that the writer
would much have wished to be present on the occasion of the unveiling
of the medallion, but that he