THE sorrows and failures of the last ten years of my father's life were greatly alleviated by the companionship of his five grandchildren. He was a delightful, adoring, and indulgent grandfather. Whatever the state of his health or nerves, he always welcomed their company and he was glad when my daughter Dorinda came to live with us in 1926, on leaving school to go on the stage. He took a great interest in her career, and there was nothing he would not do to help her in every possible way. He gave her a volume for her Press cuttings, in which he wrote:
"MY DARLING DORINDA,
"I hope this book will soon be filled with discriminating criticisms of your acting, and I am sure that so far as your efforts are concerned, the praise will be deserved.
"Your loving grandfather,
" HENRY ARTHUR JONES.
" 11th April, 1927."
He was delighted that she loved many of the same books as himself, and at her request he gave her, for her birthday in 1925, a copy of The Pilgrim's Progress, with this inscription:
"MY DEAR DORINDA,
"Here is a great piece of English prose from a man who had as little schooling as I had. He might have been also a great writer of English comedy, but he was a Puritan, and the Puritans hated the theatre. But as a matter of