royalties now amounted to as much as the weekly allowance from his father,
and Pater was talking of cutting off the stipend entirely. Finances being
easy, Browning thought it a good time to take another look at Italy. Some
of the best things he had written had been inspired by Venice and
Asolo--he would go again. And so he engaged passage on a sailing-ship for
Naples.

* * * * *

Shortly after Browning's return to London, in Eighteen Hundred Forty-four,
he dined at Sergeant Talfourd's. After the dinner a well-dressed and
sprightly old gentleman introduced himself and begged that Browning would
inscribe a copy of "Bells and Pomegranates," that he had gotten specially
bound. There is an ancient myth about writers being harassed by
autograph-fiends and all that; but the simple fact is, nothing so warms
the cockles of an author's heart as to be asked for his autograph. Of
course Browning graciously complied with the gentleman's request, and in
order that he might insert the owner's name in the inscription, asked:

"What name, please?"

And the answer was, "John Kenyon."

Then Mr. Browning and Mr. Kenyon had a nice little visit, talking about
books and art. And Mr. Kenyon told Mr. Browning that Miss Elizabeth
Barrett, the poetess, was a cousin of his--he was a bit boastful of the
fact.

And Mr. Browning nodded and said he had often heard of her, and admired
her work.