I cannot conclude this volume before recording the personal impressions that Ellen Terry has made upon me. It will be feebly done, for what writer could pen a true word picture of such a beneficently radiant creature? I am, from my friendship with her, fully justified in saying (she would call this one of the fancies of my book, but I know that it is a fact!) that her chief delights in life are, in the first place, her power of making her friends and her associates happy; in the second place, her own joy in existence. When with her even the most depressed spirit is buoyed up. Her quick sympathy and ready interest in the concerns of all with whom she comes into contact brings sunshine into their lives. In common with us all she has had her troubles and anxieties, and upon her the effect has been to create a keen and ever active desire to alleviate the distresses and difficulties of others. Hand in hand with her go encouragement and consolation. A word of sympathy from her, coupled with a look from those earnest, eloquent eyes, is the best tonic in the world. And while she can weep with those who weep, she can rejoice with those who rejoice--and she loves to rejoice. It may very safely be said that she never uttered an ill-natured word concerning a fellow-creature. "Why should I?" she says, when taxed with this somewhat unusual trait in her character. "All the world seems to say kind things about me. I am happy in knowing it, and thus I love the world and all who live upon it. Why shouldn't I?" There certainly is no reason for it, and she may be convinced that those who have seen her in the world love her. Apart from this general, generous, and genial affection for humankind, her devotion is centred in her son and daughter. Very pretty it is to see her motherly pride in their successes, whether histrionic or artistic. Happily, her tender solicitude is well rewarded. Both Gordon and Ailsa Craig are making names for themselves, and doing work of which any parent might well be proud. Very vividly she recalls her childish days, and, with a sympathetic friend, she is by no means averse to talking of them. It is as pleasant as it is touching to hear her conjure up memories of her own parents and to note the true respect, added to the heartfelt affection, with which she talks of them. I use the word "respect" advisedly, because, in these days (and more's the pity), filial "respect" seems to belong to the past. Possibly, it is as much the fault of parents as of children, but in any case it is a thing to be deplored.