is valet to have the bullets combed out of it.

The elder Rossetti died in this house, and was carried to Christ Church in
Woburn Square, and thence to Highgate. His excellent wife waited to see
the genius of her children blossom and be acknowledged. She followed
thirty years later, and was buried in the same grave with her husband,
where, later, Christina was to join them.

Frances Mary Polidori was born at Forty-two Broad Street, Golden Square,
the same street in which William Blake was born. I found the street and
Golden Square, but could not locate the house. The policeman on the beat
declared that no one by the name of Rossetti or Blake was in business
thereabouts; and further he never heard of Polly Dory. William Michael
Rossetti's home is one in a row of houses called Saint Edmund's Terrace.
It is near the Saint John's Road Station, just a step from Regent's Park,
and faces the Middlesex Waterworks. It is a fine old house, built of stone
I should judge, stuccoed on the outside. With a well-known critic I called
there, and found the master wearing a long dressing-gown that came to his
heels, a pair of new carpet slippers and a black plush cap, all so dusty
that we guessed the owner had been sifting ashes in the cellar. He was
most courteous and polite. He worships at the shrine of Whitman, Emerson
and Thoreau, and regards America as the spot from whence must come the
world's intellectual hope. "Great thoughts, like beautiful flowers, are
produced by transplantation and the commingling of many elements." These
are his words, and the fact that the Rossetti genius is the result of
transplanting need not weigh in the scale as 'gainst the truth of the
remark. Shortly after this call, at an Art Exhibition, I again met William
Michael Rossetti. I talked with him some moments--long enough to discover
that he was not aware we had ever met. This caused me to be rather less
in love with the Rossetti genius than I was before.

The wife of Dante Gabriel Rossetti died, aged twenty-nine, at Fourteen
Chatham Place, near Blackfriars Bridge. The region thereabouts has been
changed by the march of commerce, and if the original house where the
artist lived yet stands I could not find it. It was here that the
Preraphaelites made history: Madox Brown, Burne-Jones, Ruskin, William
Morris and the MacDonalds. Burne-Jones married one of the MacDonald
daughters; Mr. Poynter, now Director of the National Gallery, another; Mr.
Kipling still