me of those where men are represented in the form of animals in Giovanni della Porta's _Fisonomia dell' Huomo_ (Venice, 1668), which is before me as I write; Swinburne himself once showed to me his copy of the same book. Nor have I ever forgotten his saying to me--in regard to Burton's nervous fears: "The look of unspeakable horror in those eyes of his gave him, at times, an almost unearthly appearance." He added: "This reminds me of what Kiomi says in Meredith's novel: 'I'll dance if you talk of dead people,' and so begins to dance and to whoop at the pitch of her voice. I suppose both had the same reason for this force of fear: to make the dead people hear." Then he flashed at me this unforgettable phrase: "Burton had the jaw of a Devil and the brow of a God." In one of his letters he says, I suppose by way of _persiflage_ in regard to himself and Burton: "_En moi vous voyez Les Malheurs de la Virtu, en lui Les Prospérités du Vice._" In any case, it is to entertain Burton when he writes: "I have in hand a scheme of mixed verse and prose--a sort of étude à la Balzac _plus_ the poetry--which I flatter myself will be more offensive and objectionable to Britannia than anything I have done: _Lesbia Brandon._ You see I have now a character to keep up, and by the grace of Cotytto I will." Swinburne began _Lesbia Brandon_ in 1859; he never finished it; what remains of it consists of seventy-three galleys, numbered 25 to 97, besides four unprinted chapters. The first, "A Character," was written in 1864; "An Episode" in 1866; "Turris Eburnea" in 1886; "La Bohême Dédorée" must have been written a year or two later. Mr. Gosse gives a vivid description of Swinburne, who was living in 13, Great James Street, and who was never weary of his unfinished novel, reading to him parts of two chapters in June, 1877. "He read two long passages, the one a ride over a moorland by night, the other the death of his heroine, Lesbia Brandon. After reading aloud all these things with amazing violence, he seemed quite exhausted." It is possible to decipher a few sentences from two pages of his manuscript; first in "Turris Eburnea. 'Above the sheet, below the boudoir,' said the sage. Her ideal was marriage, to which she clung, which revealed to astonished and admiring friends the vitality of a dubious intellect within her. She had not even the harlot's talent of discernment." This is Leonora Harley. In _La Bohême Dédorée_ we read: