The morning call., 1893-01-08
LORD HOUGHTON.
WRITTEN FOR THE MORNING CALL.

lows Of the better class are afraid of any
thing under the saddle, or under the sun
you are NIGHTLY mistaken. No. they can't
ride. but they can try and are ready TO die
trylng.s
Twas away in Rome when Lady Hough-
ton left the devoted old man for the other
side Of darkness, and there came to me
such letter as only this gentlest of gentle
meO could write. But that is sacred: for
while you and the hest OF you all might
like to know how true and tender he was
through his own words, the world is not yet
quite as gentle as il should be all through.
| went up from RDme's heart and sat
by The grave of Keats, over toward The
cathedral of ST. Paul. You know Lord
Honghton WAS with Keats in his last days,
and 1t was Houghton who gathered mp the
poor dead bows fragmentary bits OF i'm
perishable work and gave them to the
world. 1t was Houghton who perpetuated
that white slab with the epitaph, the
epitaph without a name. which Keats de-
sired:
Here lies one whose name was writ in water.
l had seen something similar to this in
Greece mean the trace of seine similar
act OF H0aghton sand | wondered as / sat
there that gray chill day by that grave with
''the daisies growing over" II there was any
place where Heughton had passed and had
not left some token. seen or unseen OF his
geHileness. his tenderness toward all
desolate human creatures.
He wanted 10 so 10 Greece IN his last
days. he wanted TO ride as We used Go
ride together in Rotten Row, and laugh
again. And so we went there as the sun
of his life was setting far and fast TO the
west. But this is too sad and desolate for
us to go forward, and as there is not much
instruction in what might be here set down
let us turn back to some iiaeS OF his earlier
life.
But recall one little thing here in Greece.
One morning as We walked up toward the
old Mars Hili-he could not ride any more
uoW-he said
''See those little weeds and wildflowers,
little bits If splndles when they ought TO be
tail as caTnl Well. tie mind seems to be
| like that soil as the body wears out; Out
| that does not mean the end 1t means only
that the soil needs rest. The seed, The sun
they are the same as ever"
Here are some lines Of Houghton's which
his friend ana biographer, I. w. Reid. says
| life. He wrote them last ia copy OF bis
poems in Rome. This was ia June, 1885.
Demand not by what road or portal
Into Gods city thou art come
Bat where thou Iakest Thy place as mortal
Remain IA peace. and make thy home.
Then look around thee for the wise
Look for the strong wac there command;
Let wisdom teach thee what 10 prize,
Let power direct ana brace thy hand.
Then. doing al that should be done
Labor 60 make the state approve thee,
And thou shalt earn the hate OF none,
And many VIII rejoice = love tee.
And now may insert a single paragraph
| from this excellent biography of Reds,
only recently given to the world?
Two points in the letters am about TO
| quote. from Lord HOughton to Sir. Glad
| stone, REQUIRE passing notice. The first Is
! the reiereice to Dir. Joaquin Miller, the
| American poet When Mr. Miller came
! TO England ia 1873, one OF the
! first TO welcome him was Lord
| HoughtOn. lie had heard Of him through
| American friends. had been greatly struck
! by the originality of his writing. and made
! haste to receive him as a brother poet
/ and man of letters. lie had shown the
same attention to so many other visit
/ ors from abroad in his time that
/ there was nothing especially noticeable
| about his reception OF Joaquin Miller;
/ but il resulted in a warm friendship be-
! tween the two men, and many OF Mr.. I'LL
! ler's letters afford proof Of his gratitude
! feel al home 10 English s0clety-a gratitude
! Of which further evidence was afforded by
! the dedication of his completed poems to
! Lord Honghton." Vol. ii. p. go.
| Let us cut short this thread. 1t is impos-
/ sible 10 go forward with satisfaction TO N.Y.
! self or any one else as | turn back to those
! days when this prineely man took me by
/ the hand and made me as a king.
/ 1 owe him all l am or may be. everything;
/ and whether la the strange. strong heart of
murky London. or away out here at home
on the glorious sunlt edge of TIE world.
frankly acknowledge the debt. And now
that he is gone, l shall never be able TO pay
onefarthug.
Peace. sweet peace. OF the pure and the blest
Peace by the beautiful river Of rest.
JOAQUIN MILLER.