“Arnold, we’re a lively, hustling people,” said the American bard, “and we’re too practical yet to appreciate the full sentiment of our verse. What a wealth has been written! Yes, we have not the high poetical spirit of the Japanese in this country. Over there in Japan there is so much sentiment--so much that is ideal.” Sir Edwin said he hoped that the day would not be far distant when the people of America would have a very soft poetical glow to their temperament. “Americans,” said he, “are a great people, of remarkable intellect. What a future they have!” Sir Edwin and his host next fell to musing over the great men of the country. They talked about Washington, Lincoln, and Grant, whose characters and deeds Sir Edwin avowed he was always fond of reading about. Then the pair had a literary treat by talking of Emerson, Longfellow, and other American poets. Each quoted many selections. Sir Edwin then asked Whitman if he should not recite from memory some of the latter’s gems. “Have you some of my poetry in your memory?” exclaimed the aged poet. “Well, I will guarantee to be able to recite at least half of what you have written,” replied Sir Edwin playfully. “Now let me try you.” Sir Edwin then stood up when he was asked to recite a portion of Walt Whitman’s verse on the death of Lincoln. The famous English bard’s eyes twinkled, and he began: “Come early and soothing Death. Undulate round the world, severely arriving, arriving, In the day, in the night, to all, to each, Sooner or later, delicate death.” Sir Edwin kept on reciting until tears filled the eyes of the American poet and he reached forth his hand thankfully. Sir Edwin recited several more selections, and then his host repeated many lines from Sir Edwin’s works. Before the party arose to take their departure, Walt Whitman had three volumes brought to him by a servant. Each volume was very large, and contained all of his productions in verse and prose. He jotted down his autograph on each, and as he handed them to his guests he spoke like a playmate to his companions: “I won’t say that I will write to you fellows; it’s all inside the book.” “God bless you and keep you safe and well!” responded Sir Edwin, and the visit came to an end. Sir Edwin spoke thus of Walt Whitman: “Great, good poet that he is, he stands next to Emerson.” WALT WHITMAN. Gone has the savor from the salt With Walt. An untamed stallion, strong and sure, He galloped through our literature; No critic trainer had the grit To tame him to the bridle bit, No rein his headlong speed could halt, Unharnessed Walt. A man of many a flaw and fault Was Walt. He never tried to train his thought To blossom in a flower pot; With careless hand he flung his seeds, And some grew roses, some grew weeds, And some rich flowers of purple blood Sprung from the mud.