THE winter of 1854-55 I spent in Rome. Here I made theacquaintance of Leighton, then six-and-twenty. I saw a gooddeal of him, as I lived almost entirely amongst the artists,taking lessons myself in water colours of Leitch. Music alsobrought us into contact. He had a beautiful voice, and usedto sing a good deal with Mrs. Sartoris - Adelaide Kemble -whom he greatly admired, and whose portrait is painted undera monk's cowl, in the Cimabue procession.

　　Calling on him one morning, I found him on his kneesbuttering and rolling up this great picture, preparatory tosending it to the Academy. I made some remark about itsunusual size, saying with a sceptical smile, 'It will take upa lot of room.'

　　'If they ever hang it,' he replied; 'but there's not muchchance of that.'

　　Seeing that his reputation was yet to win, it certainlyseemed a bold venture to make so large a demand for space tobegin with. He did not appear the least sanguine. But itwas accepted; and Prince Albert bought it before theExhibition opened.

　　Gibson also I saw much of. He had executed a large alto-rilievo monument of my mother, which is now in my parishchurch, and the model of which is on the landing of one ofthe staircases of the National Gallery. His studio wasalways an interesting lounge, for he was ever ready tolecture upon antique marbles. To listen to him was likereading the 'Laocoon,' which he evidently had at his fingers'

　　ends. My companion through the winter was Mr. ReginaldCholmondeley, a Cambridge ally, who was studying painting.

　　He was the uncle of Miss Cholmondeley the well-knownauthoress, whose mother, by the way, was a first cousin ofGeorge Cayley's, and also a great friend of mine.

　　On my return to England I took up my abode in Dean's Yard,and shared a house there with Mr. Cayley, the Yorkshiremember, and his two sons, the eldest a barrister, and myfriend George. Here for several years we had exceedinglypleasant gatherings of men more or less distinguished inliterature and art. Tennyson was a frequent visitor - cominglate, after dinner hours, to smoke his pipe. He varied agood deal, sometimes not saying a word, but quietly listeningto our chatter. Thackeray also used to drop in occasionally.

　　George Cayley and I, with the assistance of his father andothers, had started a weekly paper called 'The Realm.' Itwas professedly a currency paper, and also supported a fiscalpolicy advocated by Mr. Cayley and some of his parliamentaryclique. Coming in one day, and finding us hard at work,Thackeray asked for information. We handed him a copy of thepaper. 'Ah,' he exclaimed, with mock solemnity, '"TheRellum," should be printed on vellum.' He too, likeTennyson, was variable. But this depended on whom he found.

　　In the presence of a stranger he was grave and silent. Hewould never venture on puerile jokes like this of his'Rellum' - a frequent playfulness, when at his ease, whichcontrasted so unexpectedly with his impenetrable exterior.

　　He was either gauging the unknown person, or feeling that hewas being gauged. Monckton Milnes was another. Seeing mecorrecting some proof sheets, he said, 'Let me give you apiece of advice, my young friend. Write as much as youplease, but the less you print the better.'

　　'For me, or for others?'

　　'For both.'

　　George Cayley had a natural gift for, and had acquiredconsiderable skill, in the embossing and working of silverware. Millais so admired his art that he commissioned him tomake a large tea-tray; Millais provided the silver. Roundthe border of the tray were beautifully modelled sea-shells,cray-fish, crabs, and fish of quaint forms, in high relief.

　　Millais was so pleased with the work that he afterwardspainted, and presented to Cayley, a fine portrait in his beststyle of Cayley's son, a boy of six or seven years old.

　　Laurence Oliphant was one of George Cayley's friends.

　　Attractive as he was in many ways, I had little sympathy withhis religious opinions, nor did I comprehend Oliphant'sexalted inspirations; I failed to see their practicalbearing, and, at that time I am sorry to say, looked upon himas an amiable faddist. A special favourite with both of uswas William Stirling of Keir. His great work on the Spanishpainters, and his 'Cloister Life of Charles the Fifth,'

　　excited our unbounded admiration, while his BONHOMIE andradiant humour were a delight we were always eager towelcome.

　　George Cayley and I now entered at Lincoln's Inn. At the endof three years he was duly called to the Bar. I was not; foralas, as usual, something 'turned up,' which drew me inanother direction. For a couple of years, however, I 'ate'

　　my terms - not unfrequently with William Harcourt, with whomCayley had a Yorkshire intimacy even before our Cambridgedays.

　　Old Mr. Cayley, though not the least strait-laced, was areligious man. A Unitarian by birth and conviction, he beganand ended the day with family prayers. On Sundays he wouldalways read to us, or make us read to him, a sermon ofChanning's, or of Theodore Parker's, or what we all likedbetter, one of Frederick Robertson's. He was essentially agood man. He had been in Parliament all his life, and was abroad-minded, tolerant, philosophical man-of-the-world. Hehad a keen sense of humour, and was rather sarcastical; but,for all that, he was sensitively earnest, and conscientious.

　　I had the warmest affection and respect for him. Such acharacter exercised no small influence upon our conduct andour opinions, especially as his approval or disapproval ofthese visibly affected his own happiness.

　　He was never easy unless he was actively engaged in somebenevolent scheme, the promotion of some charity, or in whathe considered his parliamentary duties, which he contrived tomake very burdensome to his conscience. As his health wasbad, these self-imposed obligations were all the moreonerous; but he never spared himself, or his somewhat scantymeans. Amongst other minor tasks, he used to teach at theSunday-school of St. John's, Westminster; in this hepersuaded me to join him. The only other volunteer, not aclergyman, was Page Wood - a great friend of Mr. Cayley's -afterwards Lord Chancellor Hatherley. In spite of Mr.

　　Cayley's Unitarianism, like Frederick the Great, he was allfor letting people 'go to Heaven in their own way,' and wasmoreover quite ready to help them in their own way. So thathe had no difficulty in hearing the boys repeat the day'scollect, or the Creed, even if Athanasian, in accordance withthe prescribed routine of the clerical teachers.

　　This was right, at all events for him, if he thought itright. My spirit of nonconformity did not permit me tofollow his example. Instead thereof, my teaching was purelysecular. I used to take a volume of Mrs. Marcet's'Conversations' in my pocket; and with the aid of thediagrams, explain the application of the mechanical forces, -the inclined plane, the screw, the pulley, the wedge, and thelever. After two or three Sundays my class was largelyincreased, for the children keenly enjoyed their compe............