This morning—the last of the dying year—all that was mortal of Robert Browning was borne from the old home at 29, De Veregardens, Kensington, to the stately Abbey at Westminster. The body had been lying encased in an air-tight coffin, covered by a purple satin pall edged with gold lace, surrounded by wreaths. So numerous were the wreaths that subsequently the hearse could not contain them, and a couple of vehicles had to be employed to convey them.