wrote the following, which is given as nearly as possible in his own words at the time, as I remember them, and as far as I can gather from any manuscript now at hand; and though he has long since passed away, I know he would have no objection to my making use of his letters on this particular subject, in any way helpful to the full appreciation of the poet's work. For one of the features of Kendall's poetry is that all those who read his poems and like them—like Kendall himself, as well—with a tender sympathy as though for a much-gifted but delicate sensitive brother whom we would shelter from pain or hardship of any kind if we could. And surely if angels from Heaven ever visit this earth of ours, and are hovering about us, it is when we feel thus. At least, I have always felt through life the protective instinct towards another human being as the angels whisper.
My friend writes:—
"Dear A.,
I wish I could give you some assistance in this matter, but I really know very little, comparatively, about the poet's life. While he was living here he was very much away from home on his travelling duties in the forest-ranging lines, and I did not meet him more than a half-a-dozen times or so. I first met him at the conclusion of a lecture he had been delivering on Australia, in the Cundleton School of Arts. He asked me what I thought of his lecture, and, of course, I said it was splendid; in fact, his lecture was good, but was certainly not well delivered. It was a very short lecture—indeed, rather an essay than a lecture, and occupied less than half an hour in delivery. He read it, and then he eked out the half hour by giving us a few readings from his own prize poem on Australia, written on the occasion of the International Exhibition held in the Garden Palace, Sydney. His elocution, probably because of his nervous self-consciousness, was affected, and his gestures were awkward, and he looked shy to the verge of childishness on being introduced to the audience. It was during the intermission, between his lecture and the subsequent concert which was to close the evening that I met him; and he soon hurried home, not waiting for the concert.
