“Miss Jeykell,” he writes to me in a letter dated February 10, 1876, “was there with Madam Bodichon when Walker arrived, and came home with him. She says that nothing could have exceeded his delight on arriving, with the light, bright climate and the novelty of everything, and he had immediately a great wish to send for his sister to come out and live there. But very soon, in about a fortnight or three weeks, his strong family affections began to tell on him and he grew terribly home-sick, and gradually took a sort of horror for the whole place. This feeling grew and grew on him, and he became quite ill. He longed to be back in England. With almost despair he said if he could only be in a hansom cab once again he should be quite happy. Madam Bodichon and Miss Jeykell one day took him out with them for a driving excursion round the country and along the sea-shore, and this, she said, seemed to be one of the only days he enjoyed thoroughly. The shores were very picturesque and rocky, and they visited beautiful little bays of pure sand and quaint shells, where Fred Walker strolled about and seemed very much struck, no doubt contemplating his intended picture. “They left him alone when he seemed to wish it, and he sat gazing at the rocks and sea in deep thought. He had his flute with him, and would accompany Miss Jeykell, who used to sing. She said, what I can endorse myself, that he played in a manner quite peculiar, full of tender feeling and prettiness. “Finally his illness and his growing disgust of the place grew so much worse that they got quite anxious about him, and when Miss Jeykell and her companion were about to return home they proposed to take him with them. In a perfectly helpless way he eagerly accepted the kindness, allowing them to do everything for him, even packing his pictures for him, securing his passage, and paying his bills, etc. He went on board the steamer so ill that Miss Jeykell felt anxious about him, fearing he might not survive till he reached home. “But the morning after they started, when she had gone to look for him in his cabin, she found him walking the deck in his little shooting-jacket, and quite revived with the idea of home. He relapsed, however, in his journey through France, and the hatred of Algiers returned at the very sound of the French tongue. “They arrived, however, quite safely at last, and Miss Jeykell at Charing Cross Station said, ‘There, Mr. Walker, is a hansom cab.’ He got in, waved his hand in a playful excited way, and that was the last time she ever saw him.” And then follows a very interesting comparison between the characters of Fred Walker and Sir Edwin Landseer, which Mr. Leslie was well qualified to make, as he had known them both for many years.