shove us in, as they did the old witches, to see if we can swim?

Second Ditto. By Jove! I shouldn't wonder if they tried. Don't you think, ARTHUR, (valiantly) it would be better, more manly, and more politic, perchance, to plunge in than to be pushed?

First Ditto (drily). Ah! just as the brave sheep—

"Committed suicide to save themselves from slaughter."

Second Ditto. Oh, hang your quotations! Happy omen! 'Tis Leap Year, is it not? Just a leap; though, like DERBY's, it be "in the dark," and—well, we shall know where we are, anyhow!

First Ditto. Ah, just so; and that's something!

[Left considering.

TEMPTATION.

Hairdresser. "ANY BAY-RUM, SIR?"

Middy. "THANK YOU—A—NO! NOT QUITE so EARLY IN THE MORNING—YOU KNOW!"

"CLERK ME NO CLERKS."

"MY DEAR EYES! WHAT! SEE-USAN!"

At the Prince of Wales's, Mr. ARTHUR ROBERTS, as Captain Crosstree, is more ARTHUR ROBERTS than ever, and, consequently, immensely droll. While he is on the stage, the audience is convulsed with spasmodic laughter, excepting when he tries to forget himself and his drollery in a loyal attempt at doing justice to Messrs. SIMS' AND PETTITT's words, and to the serious business of some situation intended to be dramatic. At such moments the laughter of the House is checked, a sudden gloom comes over the faces that were but now on the broad grin, even the lineaments of Mr. ROBERTS become agonised, and the audience, like Christopher Sly when bored by the Duke's players, mutter to themselves, "would t'were done." But these painful seconds, which, at the time, seem hours, are, we are glad to say, but brief and passing shadows over Mr. ROBERTS' own quaint humour which speedily reasserts itself, and, the Pettitt-and-Sims fetters being cast aside, the People's ARTHUR is himself again, and more so than ever. And, when he is himself, he is simply the most absurd person that ever faced the footlights.

Arthur Roberts (to Arthur Williams). "The boat's getting along nicely, now we've got rid of some of the heavy cargo."

Miss NELLIE STEWART is a pretty singing, dancing, twisting, twirling Susan. But what induced handsome Miss MARION BURTON, once so gay and sprightly as Cherubino in Le Nozze di Figaro, to essay this musically dreary part of William, and, further, to wear a costume about as unlike that of the nautical and traditional William as can well be imagined, is a puzzle to anyone who knows what she has done and can do. Not a bit of dash in the character; all the good old conventional British Tar taken right out of it. She can indeed say with the fool in The Yeomen of the Guard, "I've got a song to sing, oh!" for she has two or three, but her "voice is wasted on the desert air," as they go for nothing, and therefore probably nobody else could make them go for anything.

Mr. ARTHUR WILLIAMS is funny, but his Variety Show scene, with soliloquy and song, is too long; or rather, it would not be too long, if the piece were only cut down to a two hours' entertainment.