Some of Charlie Brookfield's stories were very funny. He also drew a series of caricatures of Kemble as a special constable, in which capacity he was enlisted in a time of riots. There is a story "Brooks" used to tell of Kemble. He and Kemble were returning from a theatre one evening when they observed a large crowd gathered round the Mansion House. Dismissing their cab, they prepared to join in the fun, if there was to be any, and on approaching, found Sir Charles Dilke was speaking from a window. As they had arrived somewhat late and the speech was nearly over, their interest was not excited, nor did they comprehend the gist of the matter. Here and there rough-looking men commented aloud with decided emphasis, sometimes for and sometimes against the speaker, when Brookfield, in a mischievous mood, thought he would add his comment to the next remark. "What abart the dockers!" he roared, choosing his words quite at random, with his hand to his mouth, in loud imitation of his audience. "Yus--what abart the dockers," shouted a navvy next to him, and immediately pandemonium followed, Brookfield's hat being squashed in, his coat ripped up, and a few minutes later, two very dishevelled actors emerged from the _melée_, wondering vaguely why "the dockers" had proved such a sore point! When I made my drawing of Sir Edgar Boehm, the famous sculptor, I depicted him working in a characteristic attitude upon his bust of Ruskin, which was in the rough clay and half finished. He was engaged also at the time upon a bust of Queen Victoria, to whom he was "Sculptor in Ordinary." Imagine my surprise when I received the following letter from Sir Edgar:-- "Feb. 2nd, 1881. "DEAR MR. WARD, "... Did you hear that the Queen when she saw your excellent portrait of me was under the impression that Ruskin's bust was meant for one of herself! till some time after the mistake was pointed out to H.M. I have heard it now from three different people who know, else I should not have believed that we could be for one instant suspected of being disloyal.... "Yours sincerely, "J. E. Boehm." Very shortly after the deaths of Boehm, Millais, and Leighton (who died within a very short time of one another) it interested me to visit their tombs in St. Paul's, and I was almost staggered when I beheld on Sir Edgar Boehm's tomb a crude reproduction in brass of my _Vanity Fair_ cartoon! Some time after I met Linley Sambourne (who was a particular friend of his), and when I asked him if he knew who was the designer, he replied, "His son--I thought you were aware of that. Have you never heard that Sir Edgar said that he should never give any friend his photograph in future, but always send the Vanity Fair representation of himself instead."