A FAMILY CHRONICLE.* IT is not many iamilies which can

boast of a Chronicle of so great an interest as this compiled by the Hon. Lady they and edited by Miss Lyster. Three generations of amiable and accomplished ladies are here presented to us. Each in her way had a conspicuous talent for -society, a keen gift for attracting and appreciating the friendship of distinguished men and women. The first of the three, Lady Deere, was the daughter of Sir Chaloner Ogle, and was born in 1768. Her first husband was Mr. Wilmot, of whom her grand- daughter never heard her speak. "I imagine he-was a neigh- bouring squire," says Lady Grey, and that the bond of union was their common passion for horses." At any rate, -it is not likely that Mr. Wilmot shared the cultivated tastes of his wife, who, as Lady Grey :tells us, "was one of the most accomplished women of her time. Her drawings in Indian ink are quite remarkable for composition, as well as the correct drawing of her animal subjects Her models were greatly admired, and furnished designs for two or three racing cups She worked much in wax, a receipt for which was given her by Flaxman." But better than these accomplishments were her quick wit and pleasant style. Her letters are always easy in expression, and no doubt give us a very vivid impression of her conversation. As Lady Deere— after Mr. Wilinot's death she married Thomas Brand, Lord Dacre—she knew the best of the Whigs, frequented Holland House, and exchanged letters with Lord Brougham, Bobus Smith, and many other eminent personages. Her daughter, Mrs. Sullivan, inherited the wit and :understanding of her mother, to which she added the attraction of a simple career.

She married a country parson, and yet contrived to see and to know much of what was happening in the great world. ;In

temperament and experience she was not unlike a Sydney Smith in petticoats. She rivalled him in devotion to village affairs, and with him she was the first to start the .system of allotments. Of the sympathy which existed between Mrs. Sullivan and the Smiths, both Sydney and Bobus, thews is ample evidence in this book, and to them are devoted by no means the least interesting pages.

Mrs. Sullivan's letters present an admirable picture of the times. Her observation is as shrewd as her intelligence. In 1831 she is in London, and -sends a daily report of the Reform Bill to her husband :—

" Ministers were in great spirits last night," she writes,—" just saw Lord Ilowick—glorious! How it will all end heaven knows, but they were up in the bottle last night. Mr. Stanley's speech so very clever, powerful, and good, that it knocks Sir B. Peel to pieces. Mr. Jeffries is excellent. Mr. Croker's so bad, that it did them more good than all their own friends can say in favour of the Bill. So said the 'ins' last night."

But politics do not engross her. She is keenly alive to the

excitement of society, and made excellent use of what she saw and heard in her novel, The Chaperone, which had a fashionable popularity, and which by many good judges was thought superior to the works of Mrs. Norton. Of that lady, by the way, she gives a bitter-sweet description which is worth quotation :—

"Mrs. Norton," she writes, "too splendidly, magnificently, furiously beautiful. Cleopatra sailing on the Nile (was it Nile ? No, Cadmus) a joke to her ! She had a Cleopatra head ! 1 never ,sawanytliing.so tormentingly beautiful. One is attracted by her consummate beauty, one is repelled by her odious manner! Eyes * A Family Chroniete derived from Notes and Letters. Selected by Barbarian.,

the Hon. Lady Prey. Edited by Gertrude Lyster. Loadoni John Murray. [12s. net.]

so, so soft—not soft exactly—the expression very unlike the insolent expression of her mouth. Mr. Norton rather fidgeting around her."

Mrs. Sullivan's daughter had as keen an ear for a story as her mother, and as sharp a pen to write it down. It is thus that she relates an episode which deserves a place in the history of Holland House, which no doubt will be written some day :—

"Lady Morley told us a story of Lady Holland," she writes, "which beats anything I ever heard. She was at Lord Radnor's, and they could not get rid of her. Lord Radnor thought of unroofing the house, but tried first what prayers of a Sunday evening would do. She was highly pleased (very gracious, Lady Morley said, because she knew that they longed to get rid of her) and said she would go down for prayers. Whether she was ill I do not know, but it seems she had to be carried downstairs, and wrapped herself up in cloaks, &e. In the midst she called out for more cloaks, which were brought to her. When she went up to the drawing-room again, she said to Lord Radnor (he having finished with the Lord's prayer) : 'I like that very much, that last prayer you read. I approve of it, it is a very nice one, pray whose is it ?' Did any one ever hear of such a thing? I cannot imagine why people should bear her impertinence."

But they did, and forgave it too, for its unbridled extrava- gance.

Nothing is more remarkable in this Family Chronicle than the spirit with which the ladies defy the encroaching years. Grandmother and granddaughter seem to be much about the same age. It is thus that Lady Dacre wrote to her grand- daughter on her eighty-third birthday :—" Yesterday was my birthday "—it was in 1851—"and I do assure you that. if I had been a lovely young bride striking nineteen, having been married at eighteen, more affectionate and gratifying speeches could not have flown from my bridegroom's lips of twenty- three. I can scarcely understand it, I own, so very, very little am I worthy of it. It belongs to his nature; I have nothing to do with it." And a few months later she describes a visit

of a grandson in terms which prove how near she was to him in age and sympathy. "Harry is the only guest I have had

in London," she writes, "as I do not admit any but very near relations. I had a remarkably pleasant dinner, for I rather think we got a little drunk together ; he opened his heart beautifully on several subjects, and a purer, more amiable heart does not beat under ribs."

The last part of the Chronicle is necessarily less enter- taining. Mrs. Sullivan's daughter, who married the third son of the second Earl Grey, is too close to our own time. She cannot evoke the curiosity which clings about the memory of her grandmother. Discretion counsels reticence where those who still live are discussed, and Lady Grey, having collected the memorials of her mother and grandmother, may be pardoned if she has less to tell of herself. Yet her diary has its interest. She visited South Africa forty years ago, and describes what she saw with a vivid pen. Towards the end of her life, Matthew Arnold and Fanny Kemble are among her friends. Thus she carried on the tradition of her family, and worthily completed a record which extends in three generations over one hundred and forty years.