Speaking of her Haymarket engagement she declares that she had no _real_ reason to dislike poor Sothern, and regrets that she ever publicly expressed a feeling with which we are all familiar, and which is best described in the words, "I do not like thee, Dr. Fell." She admits that at this time she was very good as poor, maliciously maligned Hero, but she qualifies this little bit of self-commendation by avowing that she played Lady Touchwood vilely. Merrily she recalls her appearance as Britannia, making her entrance up a trap in a huge pearl which opened to allow her egress. On this occasion King Edward VII. and Queen Alexandra, then, of course, the Prince and Princess of Wales, came to the theatre for the first time since their marriage, and modestly sat in the shadow of a large stage-box. Louise Keeley (afterwards Mrs. Montague Williams) had to sing a song concerning the "Invisible Prince," and by deftly introducing a few improvised lines contrived to let the audience know the state of affairs. Accordingly the uproarious applause of a loyal house stopped the performance until the Royal bride and bridegroom emerged from their obscurity, came to the front of their box, and gracefully and gratefully bowed their thanks. It was an exciting moment for Ellen Terry when, in 1878, Henry Irving asked her to accept an engagement at the Lyceum, to play Ophelia. So far, she had not seen his Hamlet, and to do so she travelled to Birmingham. His beautiful, thoughtful, and always human impersonation at once captivated her. "No other Hamlet," she enthusiastically exclaims, "have I _seen_!--_Not in the same hemisphere!_ And yet I have seen Charles Kean, Fechter, Salvini, and Rossi play the part." Concerning her own successes she is very reticent, but I think I speak the truth when I say that she very properly plumes herself on her immediate triumph as Ophelia, and that she cherishes the lines of the writer who said:-- "Ophelia, then, is an image or personification of innocent, delicious, feminine youth and beauty, and she passes before us in the two phases of sanity and delirium. Ellen Terry presented her in this way. The embodiment is fully within her reach, and it is one of the few unmistakably perfect creations with which dramatic art has illumined literature and adorned the stage. Ellen Terry was born to play such a part, and she is perfect in it. There is no other word for such an achievement." In speaking of her sister artistes she is always generous, and often enthusiastic. She holds that as a pathetic actress there is no one equal to Mrs. Kendal, and she declares that in purely poetic characters her sister Marion is not to be excelled.