William Winter soon became a great personal friend of ours, and visited us in England. He was one of the few _sad_ people I met in America. He could have sat upon the ground and told "sad stories of the deaths of kings" with the best. He was very familiar with the poetry of the _immediate_ past--Cowper, Coleridge, Gray, Wordsworth, Shelley, Keats, and the rest. He _liked_ us, so everything we did was right to him. He could not help being guided entirely by his feelings. If he disliked a thing, he had no use for it. Some men can say, "I hate this play, but of its kind it is admirable." Willie Winter could never take that unemotional point of view. In England he loved going to see graveyards, and knew where every poet was buried. His children came to stay with me in London. When we were all coming home from the theater one night after "Faust" (the year must have been 1886) I said to little Willie: "Well, what do you think of the play?" "Oh my!" said he, "it takes the cake." "Takes the _cake_!" said his little sister scornfully, "it takes the ice-cream!" "Won't you give me a kiss?" said Henry to the same young miss one night. "No, I _won't_ with all that blue stuff on your face." (He was made up for Mephistopheles.) Then, after a pause, "But why--why don't you _take_ it!" She was only five years old at the time! I love the American papers, especially the Sunday ones, although they do weigh nearly half a ton! As for the interviewers, I never cease to marvel at their cleverness. I tell them nothing, and the next day I read their "story" and find that I have said the most brilliant things! The following delightful "skit" on one of these interviews suggested itself to my clever friend Miss AimŽe Lowther:-- WHAT CONSTITUTES CHARM AN ILLUSTRATED INTERVIEW WITH MISS ELLEN TERRY "Yes, I know that I am very charming," said Miss Ellen Terry, "a perfectly delightful creature, a Queen of Hearts, a regular witch!" she added thoughtfully, at the same time projecting a pip of the orange she was chewing, with inimitable grace and accurate aim into THE REPORTER'S EYE. "You know, at all events, that you have charm?" I said. "What do you think, you idiot! I exercise absolute power over my audiences--I cast over them an irresistible spell--I do with them what I will.... I am omnipotent, enthralling--and no wonder!" I looked at her across the table, wondering at so much simple modesty. "But feeling your power, you must often be tempted to experiment with it," I ventured. "Yes, now and then I am," replied Miss Terry. "Once, I remember, when I was to appear as Ophelia, on making my entrance and seeing the audience waiting breathlessly--as they always do--for what I was going to do next, I said to myself, 'You silly fools, you shall have a treat to-night--I will give you something you will appreciate more than Shakespeare!' Hastily slipping on a FALSE NOSE which I always carry in my pocket, I struck an attitude, and then turned A SOMERSAULT.