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off some drawings, when I picked up a newspaper and read, 'Death of Charles Dickens!'"

Studies for drawing of Durdles.
("Edwin Drood.")

Unquestionably Luke Fildes was friendly with the Dickens family, for at this time Miss Hogarth—Dickens's sister-in-law—wrote to him to the effect that as his contemplated visit was one of the last wishes of the dead, would he come all the same before the home was broken up? He went. From this visit much, very much, resulted. The last work of Charles Dickens was to complete the sixth number of "Edwin Drood," so that he might be quite free for the companionship of the young artist. Whilst Mr. Fildes was in the house of mourning he sketched the desk and study where Dickens worked—he drew "The Empty Chair." As he was doing the desk the thought occurred to him how much better it would look in colour. He hurried to London, got his water-colours, returned to Gad's Hill, and painted it—every detail, every little particular. And all with no object, only with a view to filling up the time. But it proved to be the first picture of note ever painted by Luke Fildes, and came out as the Supplement to the Christmas number of the Graphic of 1870.

We left the summer-house for a moment and returned to the house. Mr. Fildes showed me a little memorandum porcelain slate bound round with black leather, a quill pen with the blue ink still upon it, and a square sheet of unlined blue paper. They were on the desk just as Dickens left them, and were given to their present owner by Miss Hogarth.

We returned to the garden once more.

"The death of Dickens," said Mr. Fildes, "had an extraordinary effect upon me. It seemed as though the cup of happiness had been dashed from my lips. I was tiring of wood-drawing, and being now fairly well off—for my work secured good prices—I determined to become a painter. I went to Millais and showed him two subjects. One was 'The Casuals,' the other an illustration I had drawn for Once a Week. Either of these, I considered, would make a good picture. Millais evidently thought, without saying so, that I was rushing in where angels fear to tread. He advised the Once a Week illustration, as there would be a better chance of getting rid of it. I took his advice—and also a studio in King Henry's Road, Haverstock Hill, and Henry Woods took another in the same house. I should tell you that two years after I left Warrington, Woods joined me in London, and we became inseparable, going about everywhere together. I started work on a 9-ft. canvas—rather a cool