Chapter 12 LAST CHAPTER.

"O, that Press will get hold of me now," Tennyson said when he knew that his last hour was at hand. He had a horror of personal tattle, as even his early poems declare-

"For now the Poet cannot die,

Nor leave his music as of old,

But round him ere he scarce be cold

Begins the scandal and the cry."

But no "carrion-vulture" has waited