Bedford inquirer. [volume] (Bedford, Pa.) 1857-1884, 1867-06-28
A VISIT TO JEAN lNeELow.

A writer in the London Queen describes a
visit to the poet Jean lngeloW. Will you
come and call on Jean Ingelow p said my
hostess one fine day. OF course | would
So awav We went along a shady lane, with
the old oaks of Holland Park on one side
and tbe ivv-eroyned walls Of Aubury House
on the other for, though part of Lon
dom. Noting Hill is rich in gardens, lawns
and marks. such as one sees only in England.
Our way led us by Kensington Palace, the
residences of Addison, the Duke Of Argyle,
Macaulav. and better than all the rest to
me. tbe house of Thackeray. A low, long
briek house. covered with ivy to the chin
new top a sunny bit of lawn in front, trees
and flowers all about, and, though no longer
haunted by the genial presence of its former
master, this unpretending place is to many
| eyes more attractive than any palace in the
land. / looked long Gsi lovingly at it, feel
| ing a strong desire to enter its Hospitality
open door, recalling with fresh delight the
evening spent in listening to the lecture on
! Swift, long ago in America, and experlen-
cling again the heavy sense of loss which came
to me with the tidings that the novelist
whom | most loved and admired would nev-
er write again. Leaving my tribute Of atfec-
ton and respect in look, smile and sigh,
| gathered leaf Of ivy as a relic, and went
on my way.
Coming at last to a quiet street, where
all the houses were gay with window boxes
full of flowers, we reached Miss lngelow s.
In the drawing room we found the mother
of the pOetess, truly beautiful old lady, IN
widow cap and gown, with the sweetest,
serenest face | ever saw. Two daughters sat
with her, both older than / had tancled them
to be, but both very attractive women. Eli
"a looked as if she wrote the poetry, Jean
the prose-the former wore curls, had del
ieate face, fine eyes, and that lndescrlbable
something which suggests genius; the latter
was plain, rather stout, hair touched with
gray, shy, yet cordial manners, and clear
straightforward glance, which / liked so
much that | fOrgaye her on the spot for
writing those dull stories. Gerald Massey
was with them, a dapper little man, with a
large, tall head, and very un-Engllsh man
neT. Being oppressed with the mountain
Gus me, he rather bored the company with
my poems, my plans and my publishers,
till Miss Eliza politely devoted herself to
him, leaving my friend to chat with the.loye-
ly old lady, and myself with Jean. Both
being bashful, and both laboring under the
delusiOn that 1t was proper TO allude to each
others works, we tried to exchange a few
compliments, blushed, hesitated, laughed
and wisely took refuge in a safer subject
Jean had been abroad, so we pleasantly
compared notes, and | enjoyed the sound
of peculiarly musical voice, in which |
| seemed to hear the breezy rhythm of some
Of her charming songs The ice which sur
rounds every Englishman and woman was
beginning to melt, when Massey disturbed
ne to ask what was thought of his books in
America. As | really had not the remotest
idea, | said so whereat he looked blank
aud fell upon Longfellow, who seems to be
the only one of our poets whom the English
know or care about. The conversation be-
came general, and soon after it was necessa-
rs to leave, lest the safety of the nation
should be endangered by overstepping the
fixed limits of morning call
Later, | learned that Miss IBgelOW was
extremely conservative, and was very indig-
nant when a petition for woman's right to
vote was offered for her signature. 4 ram
pant radical told me this and shook her
handsome head pathetically over Jean S mar
rowness but when heard that once a week
several poor souls dined comfortably in the
pleasant home Of the poetess, forgave her
conversation, and regretted that an uncon-
querable aversion to dinner parties made me
decline her invitation.