He had executed a large alto-
rilievo monument of my mother, which is now in my parish
church, and the model of which is on the landing of one of
the staircases of the National Gallery.
His studio was
always an interesting lounge, for he was ever ready to
lecture upon antique marbles. To listen to him was like
reading the 'Laocoon,' which he evidently had at his fingers'
ends. My companion through the winter was Mr. Reginald
Cholmondeley, a Cambridge ally, who was studying painting.
He was the uncle of Miss Cholmondeley the well-known
authoress, whose mother, by the way, was a first cousin of
George 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 Yorkshire
member, and his two sons, the eldest a barrister, and my
friend George. Here for several years we had exceedingly
pleasant gatherings of men more or less distinguished in
literature and art. Tennyson was a frequent visitor - coming
late, after dinner hours, to smoke his pipe. He varied a
good deal, sometimes not saying a word, but quietly listening
to our chatter. Thackeray also used to drop in occasionally.
George Cayley and I, with the assistance of his father and
others, had started a weekly paper called 'The Realm.' It
was professedly a currency paper, and also supported a fiscal
policy advocated by Mr. Cayley and some of his parliamentary
clique.
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