A Glorious Memory And More There should be—perhaps there is—an anthology of the lovely and loving things that have been said of Ellen Terry, but most of them were said long ago. To-day one only need Ellen world knows that one means a glorious combination of genius, beauty and charm, a living Beatrice, a breathing Rosaland. When you count up the things for which you are glad to be English born you put her in with Shakespeare and the Authorized Version and the primroses and the April ski Scores of pictures come to our minds on hearing of Ellen Terry's eightieth birthday, for she has rover been previously withdrawn like Duse of orchidaceously veiled like Bernhardt. As well as we know tales of our own kinswoman we know of her first appearance, dragging her toy cart, in "The Winter's Tale," of her "wringing" her stage dresses as a girl on tour, to get the Greek crinkles into them, of her washing all the yellow heads of her little sisters on the day she married, at ixtecn, Mr. Watts, the great painter, and of his saying to her in the carriage afterwards, "Don't ery. It makes your nose well'
Text read from the printed page and cleaned; old type leaves the occasional error.