When Wilfrid and Alice Meynell visited Francis Thompson at Pantasaph, Alice wrote of her fellow-poet who was lodging in a cottage at the monastery gates, ‘There is no disturbing renown to be got among the cabins of the Flintshire hills’. She envied the Franciscan peace to which her friend came homeward at nightfall. Viola Meynell’s gracious and discerning account of Wilfrid Meynell and Francis Thompson shows a strong personality and a weak one fulfilling each other in the Christian charity that makes give and take possible, and united in serving three things recognised by their age as worth individual sacrifice—religion, domestic love and poetry. Journalist and poet, happy if hard-pressed father of seven children and waif of the London streets, their unique and self-effacing collaboration did more for the conversion of the England of their day than any publicist is likely to achieve for ours. As in some sort one of their converts, I should like to glance at this aspect of Viola Meynell’s book and endorse it from my own experience.