“Striving to attain,” etc. (p. 33), is taken not quite correctly from Tennyson’s “Timbuctoo.” Our crew were “a solemn company” (p. 57) is probably a reminiscence of “we were a gallant company” in “The Siege of Corinth.” For “‘the own armchair’ of our Lyrist’s ‘Sweet Lady Anne’” (p. 161) see the poem, “My own armchair” in Barry Cornwall’s “English Lyrics.” “Proud Marie of Anjou” (p. 96) and “single-sin —” (p. 121), are unintelligible; a friend once asked Kinglake to explain the former, but received for answer, “Oh! that is a private thing.” It may, however, have been a pet name for little Marie de Viry, Procter’s niece, and the _chère amie_ of his verse, whom Eothen must have met often at his friend’s house. The St. Simonians of p. 83 were the disciples of Comte de St. Simon, a Parisian reformer in the latter part of the eighteenth century, who endeavoured to establish a social republic based on capacity and labour. Père Enfantin was his disciple. The “mystic mother” was a female Messiah, expected to become the parent of a new Saviour. “Sir Robert once said a good thing” (p. 93), refers possibly to Sir Robert Peel, not famous for epigram, whose one good thing is said to have been bestowed upon a friend before Croker’s portrait in the Academy. “Wonderful likeness,” said the friend, “it gives the very quiver of the mouth.” “Yes,” said Sir Robert, “and the arrow coming out of it.” Or it may mean Sir Robert Inglis, Peel’s successor at Oxford, more noted for his genial kindness and for the perpetual bouquet in his buttonhole at a date when such ornaments were not worn, than for capacity to conceive and say good things. In some mischievous lines describing the Oxford election where Inglis supplanted Peel, Macaulay wrote “And then said all the Doctors sitting in the Divinity School, Not this man, but Sir Robert’—now Sir Robert was a fool.” But in the fifth and later editions Kinglake altered it to “Sir John.”