"Altogether," writes our Musical Box, "a very big success. Music is
thirsty work. I am now about to do a symphony in B. and S."
* * * * *
VICE VERSA.
A poet in the _Forum_ asks the question,
"Is Verse in Danger?" 'Tis a wild suggestion!
Is Verse in Danger? Nay, _that_'s not the curse;
Danger (of utter boredom) is in Verse!
* * * * *
"ODD MAN OUT."--On Saturday last, the last among the theatrical
advertisements in the _Daily Telegraph_ was the mysterious one,
"MR. CHARLES SUGDEN AT LIBERTY," and then followed his address. "At
Liberty!" What does it mean? Has he been--it is a little difficult to
choose the right word, but let us say immured--has he been immured in
some cell?--for it does sound like a "sell" of another sort--and
has he at last effected a sensational escape? No doubt CHARLES, our
friend, will be able to offer the public a satisfactory explanation
when he re-appears on the Stage which suffers from his absence.
* * * * *
PLAYING OLD GOOSEBERRY AT THE HAYMARKET;
_OR, THE DOOK, THE DANCING GIRL, AND THE LITTLE LAME DUCK._
What is to be admired in ENERY HAUTHOR JONES is not so much his work
but his pluck,--for has he not, in the first place, overcome the
prudery of the Lord Chamberlain's Licensing Department, and, in the
second place, has he not introduced on the boards of the Haymarket a
good old-fashioned Melodrama, brought "up to date," and disguised in
a Comedy wrapper? Walk in, Ladies and Gentlemen, and see _The Dancing
Girl_, a Comedy-Drama shall we call it, or, generically, a Play?
wherein the prominent figures are a wicked Duke,--_vice_ the "wicked
Baronet," now shelved, as nothing under the ducal rank will suit us
nowadays, bless you!--a Provincial Puritan family, an honest bumpkin
lover, a devil of a dancing woman who lives a double-shuffling sort of
life, an angel of a lame girl,--who, of course, can't cut capers but
goes in for coronets,--a sly, unprincipled, and calculating kind
of angel she is too, but an audience that loves Melodrama is above
indulging in uncharitable analysis of motive,--a town swell in the
country, a more or less unscrupulous land-agent, and a genuine,
honest "heavy father," of the ancient type, with a good old-fashioned
melodramatic father's curse ready at the right moment, the last relic
of a bygone period of the transpontine Melodrama, which will bring
tears to the eyes of many an elderly playgoer on hearing the old
familiar formula, in the old familiar situation, reproduced on
the stage of the modern Haymarket as if through the medium of a
phonophone.
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