"Yes," she said, "I dined with them all one winter;
they were lovely friends." She asked if we would like to see
some autograph letters of theirs. One which seemed specially
characteristic of Robert Browning was written on the thinnest of paper
in the finest hand, difficult to decipher. And on the flap of the
envelope was a long message from his wife. Each letter was addressed
to "My dearest Hattie," and ended, "Yours most affectionately." There
was one most comical impromptu sent to her by Browning, from some
country house where there was a house party. They were greatly grieved
at her failure to appear, and each name was twisted into a rhyme at
the end of a line. Sir Roderick Murchison, for instance, was run in
thus:
As welcome as to cow is fodder-rick
Would be your presence to Sir Roderick.
A poor pun started another vein. "You must hear some of Miss Cobbe's
puns," said Miss Hosmer, and they were so daringly, glaring bad, as to
be very good. When lame from a sprain, she was announced by a pompous
butler at a reception as "Miss Cobble." "No, Miss Hobble," was her
instant correction. She weighed nearly three hundred pounds and, one
day, complaining of a pain in the small of her back her brother
exclaimed: "O Frances, where _is_ the small of your back?"
Miss Hosmer regarded Grace Greenwood (Mrs.
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