Wilfrid Meynell then, with immense patience and kindness, set about the task of rescuing Thompson. Thompson was not an easy man to rescue. Reserved and secretive by habit, he made no confidences and asked no favours. He did not seem at first to realize that salvation for him was possible, and that he could earn his living by writing. At any rate, it was only by the exercise of considerable tact and patience that Mr. Meynell succeeded in obtaining any of his confidence. Physically, Thompson had suffered severely in his long struggle with starvation. "He will not live," was the doctor's verdict, "and you hasten his death by denying his whims and opium." Meynell, however, took the risk and sent Thompson to a private hospital. The experiment succeeded. Thompson secured a fresh lease of life, and, for the time, renounced opium. All lovers of literature owe a debt of gratitude to Meynell for his astonishing kindness and unselfishness towards Thompson at this time and to the end of the poet's life. Few would have taken the trouble, amid the cares of a busy life, to look after Thompson, who in many ways was as incapable of managing his own affairs as a child. Meynell found him work, and for the remaining years of his life Thompson secured a scanty living by his pen. His poetry brought him little, but review work and occasional articles for such magazines as the _Athenæum_ gave him generally enough to live on, and anything that was lacking was supplied by Meynell. Soon after Thompson's rescue comes the extraordinary spectacle of the outburst of his poetic talent. Here was a man of letters of the first rank whose genius had blossomed fresh and fair from the filth of the London streets. His long proximity with vice and degradation of the worst kind had not cast even a shadow on the purity of Thompson's spirit; and his poetry rose from the slums of London as stainless as Venus from the ocean. The Meynells furnished Thompson with much of his poetic inspiration. Meynell had introduced Thompson to his own family. His wife, Alice Meynell, the poetess, became the saint of Thompson's adoration, two of the children, Monica and Madeline, were revelations to him of the beauty of girlhood; and he repaid the sheltering care and attention shown him by the family by conferring on them all he had to give, the best fruits of his genius. To Mrs. Meynell he addressed the beautiful poems of his first volume, entitled _Love in Dian's Lap_; to Monica Meynell several of the best poems in that volume; and to Monica and Madeline his second volume entitled _Sister Songs_. His affection for Wilfrid Meynell is expressed in a few lines entitled _To W. M._ O Tree of many branches! One thou hast Thou barest not, but graftedst on thee. Now Should all men's thunders break on thee, and leave Thee reft of bough and blossom, that one branch Shall cling to thee, my Father, Brother, Friend, Shall cling to thee unto the end of end.