we drank in with delight the tales from the old mythologies of romance and adventure. She would tell us of deeds of 'derring-do' and all that was inspiring in the way of freedom and love of country. Certainly with her, as with Sir Edward Clarke, poetry was 'a never failing source of pleasure and comfort' to the last. (As it was also with me.) In the last year of her long life she could still repeat her poetic treasures with the greatest fire and spirit. She had a vigorous and original personality, with strong and decided views which she would express with energy. Her hands were full of character, strong yet most delicate, and much character in her features, with a smile that lit up her face like a ray of sunshine. Her maiden name was Sherborn—Ann Sherborn—(her mother's maiden name, Holgate).... Her relations and ancestors were county folk—gentlemen farmers some of them. The Sherborns of Bedfont near Staines, held the great tythe, and her uncle was the squire. None of the last generation married, the name has died with them and may be seen only in the little Bedfont churchyard.

"My mother's uncle (her mother's brother), William Holgate, was fond of searching out genealogies and he managed to trace the Abyssinian Braces until it joined our Bruce family tree. There were many original—and it may be eccentric—characters amongst my mother's relations and forebears, and many interesting stories that we loved to hear, about them. Her genealogical tree interested us greatly, partly because the names were so curious, as it went back to the early days of history, and because of the stories connected with them, and also because if not Bruce himself, his elder brother, David King of Scotland, figured in it. Then there was Archbishop Holgate of York, who was a great rogue (I looked up his life in the Minster precincts when I was there) and hand and glove with Henry VIII in the spoliation of the monasteries, yet he redeemed himself by the establishment of Free Schools, which flourish in York to this day.

"It may be that this spirit of romance and adventure that we breathed in from our earliest years, had some influence on my brother Fred, and fired his imagination; but why from the very first there should have been the persistent desire like an 'idée fixe' for Africa, I cannot tell, unless, indeed, it might be something of 'Abyssinian' Bruce cropping up again. But as a child he would have a waggon for a toy, to load and unload, and for his school prize books he would always choose one on Africa. This desire for the dark continent remained constant in him till satisfied, and indeed to the last.

"My mother had quite an unusual interest in, and knowledge of, natural history, and my father also made some fine collections of butterflies, etc., which are still to be seen in my brother's museum. My father's youngest brother, Angiolo—a man of the most polished and courtly manners—was as dark as my father was fair. Entirely educated by his mother, there was little in which he did not excel. He had a beautiful voice and was a charming singer, often to his own accompaniment on the guitar, and was a well-known dramatist in his time, some of his plays being most successful. How well I remember the first night of his 'True to the Core,' when we all went across the river to the Surrey Theatre and helped with our feet and umbrellas in the general enthusiasm. He was a fine actor and dramatic reader, and a charming artist. We have a perfect gem of his—Don Quixote, sitting in his study—the colouring, the face and expression, the painting, are perfect, and one feels that Don Quixote must have looked just so. The haggard face and the wild look in the eyes that are seeing visions. But it was unfortunate that my uncle neglected this talent altogether. My uncle, Harry Selous, was of course the artist, excelling chiefly, I think, in his beautiful outlines of the 'Pilgrim's Progress,' and his 'Metamorphoses of Ovid,' on which subjects he could draw on his imagination for ever, it seemed. It is a thousand pities they have never been produced. His illustrations of the Life of Bruce and Hereward the Wake are fine, and The Prisoners of Calais and Boadicea are well known. The latter most fine, I think. He would paint the most charming landscapes with great rapidity, and his chalk (coloured) and pencil sketches from his travels in Switzerland are charming too, and endless numbers of them. He painted some of the famous Coliseum panoramas, each in turn being painted out by the next one, which always seemed very dreadful. His original illustrations drawn on wood, were exquisite, and it was cruel to see how they were spoilt in the wood-cutting, but he valued his work so lightly that he did not seem to mind much about it. My grandfather, Gideon Slous, had a very great talent for painting, and was a fine colourist, quite like an old master, and he painted some beautiful miniatures also. He was a man of violent temper."

Frederick Courtenay Selous was born in the house in Regent's Park on December 31st, 1851. The other children of his parents were: Florence, "Locky," now Mrs. Hodges; Annie, married to Mr. R. F. Jones; Sybil, "Dei," married to Mr. C. A. Jones; Edmund, married to Fanny, daughter of Mrs. Maxwell (Miss Braddon). He is a well-known student of British bird-life and has published many interesting books on British Natural History.

Of the childhood of Frederick little more need be said. He was an active little fellow, never more happy than when playing with his wooden waggon and oxen or listening to his mother's stories of romance and adventure. At the age of nine he went to school at Bruce Castle, Tottenham, of which Arthur Hill was the headmaster, and there chiefly distinguished himself by being constantly in trouble. Later he went for a short time to a small school in Northamptonshire, kept by the Revd. Charles Darnell, whose daughter (Mrs. Frank Juckes) recalls one characteristic incident.