Knowing him as I did, I unhesitatingly aver that his ideals and his longings were noble, and that the soul of the man was good. That all is well with him, and that he is at rest, I have no doubt. Never have I seen such fulness of peace and such beauty on the face of the newly dead, as when I knelt--to commend his passing soul to his Maker--by the bed on which lay what was mortal of Stephen Phillips. All that was weak and unworthy seemed to have fallen away as something which never was, which never could be, a part of his true self. In death, even his youth returned to him. As he lay there, white-robed, and with his hair tossed boyishly over his forehead, he looked so young that one might have thought him to be a happy and sleeping boy-chorister, dreaming of the poet-mother whom he so loved, and to join whom in Paradise may not his soul even then have been hastening? C. K. SAVAGE CLUB, LONDON. CONTENTS PAGE A. C. SWINBURNE 1 LORD ROBERTS 32 THEODORE WATTS-DUNTON AS THE “OGRE OF THE ‘ATHENÆUM’” 67 WHY THEODORE WATTS-DUNTON PUBLISHED ONLY TWO BOOKS 84 THEODORE WATTS-DUNTON AS AN AMATEUR IN AUTHORSHIP AND AS A GOOD FELLOW 102 ONE ASPECT OF THE MANY-SIDEDNESS OF THEODORE WATTS-DUNTON 111 THE LAST DAYS OF THEODORE WATTS-DUNTON 126 WHEN STEPHEN PHILLIPS READ 139 EDWARD WHYMPER AS I KNEW HIM 149 OSCAR WILDE 189 S. J. STONE, THE HYMN-WRITER 236 IN GOOD COMPANY A. C. SWINBURNE Had some old Pagan slept a thousand years, To wake to-day, and stretching to the stars Gaunt arms of longing, called on Venus, Mars, June and Jove, Apollo and his peers; And heard, for answer, echoing from the spheres, “Thy gods are gone: the gods of old are dead. It is by Christ thou shalt be comforted, The pitying God who wipes away all tears.” Such answer had there come, deaf ears, in scorn Had turned the Pagan, and deaf ears turn we To other voices, on this April morn, Since he who sang the sunrise and the sea Shall sing no more. Deaf are we and forlorn, The gods are dead, and dead is Poetry. _April 10, 1909._ I Swinburne was furious.