fuller of life, more musical, more mirthful, has been seen at the Savoy since its palmiest days. Sir Arthur and Sir Author are perfectly mated, F. C. B. brimming over with genuine humour, and A. S. pre-eminently displaying his rare gift of expressing humour in musical notes. The cast is a very strong one, which is fortunate, seeing the appetite of the audience is insatiable, and only exceptional strength could meet the demand for encores. Where all excel it is difficult to particularise merit. But Miss Florence St. John and Mr. Courtice Pounds in the French duet, Mr. Passmore from first to last (especially in his Bolero dance, one of the funniest things for a long time seen on the operatic stage), Miss Emmie Owen in her graceful movements, and the sextet with its merry music and its laughing dance, are things to see and hear.

ENGLISH AS SHE IS CRAMMED.

The Oxford Board of Studies will conduct an examination in 1896 for the new Final School of English Language and Literature. The following preliminary paper is to be set:—

English Language and Literature.

Time allowed—18 months.

[Questions are to be answered either in Gothic or Icelandic, according to the taste and fancy of the candidate. The dates of the vivâ voce "Chatter about Shelley," and "Scandal about Queen Elizabeth," will be announced shortly. Evening dress optional. Smoking and Bohemian Concert to follow. See Handbills.]

1. Write out the English Alphabet as inaccurately as possible; and distinguish between great A and the track of a duck.

2. Translate the following unheard-of passage from Beowulf:—

Supply the lacunæ in the text. Candidates may send in as many solutions as they please, provided each is accompanied with a shilling Postal Order. The total amount subscribed will be pooled among the winners, less ten per cent. for our commission.

3. Discuss the following:—

(α) When is a door not a negress?

(β) What is the difference between hearing recitation and being bored?

(γ) Why is Hall Caine like a tenpenny nail?

Any replies to the above will be most thankfully received, and paid for at our usual rates.

4.

King Lear, Act IV., Sc. 6.

Hence show, by internal evidence, that Edward Lear wrote Bakespeare.

5. State the various questions to the following answer:— "Because there's a 'b' in both."

6. Give the meaning, if any, to the subjoined flowers of speech:—cheese your patter, perform the negative, a runcible cat, cow-chilo, do a drag, a pale paradox, going tommy-dodd, dead-lurk a crib, the hush of the corn, ferjunt rarm, the mome-raths outgrabe, and filling up the cup.

7. Trace the origin of the following legends:—(a) The old lady who travelled twice round the Inner Circle Railway against her wish; (b) The conversation between Toole and St. Peter about Henry Irving; (c) The leading journalist whose nose cost him £8,000 to colour; and mention any other chestnuts you may know of.

8. Compose a leader in the Times style on Ballet-girls and their Little Ways; in D. T. phraseology on Quaternions; à la Pink 'Un on the Delights of Sunday School; and in the best Guardian manner in Defence of Prize-fighting.

9. Write down all you don't know about any mortal subject you are most ignorant of, provided it has nothing to do with the English language and literature.

"In spite of all temptation," Marcus Ward & Co. remain true Englishmen, and have had their dainty Christmas cards, and other delightful novelties, "not printed in Germany." The support of the loyal British shopper should be their re-Ward. But C. W. Faulkner & Co. evidently think that a foreign name is more attractive, and have christened their new table-game "Malletino." It hardly requires a deep knowledge of Italian to discover that it is played with mallets, and is amusing. Their cards and calendars are quite "up to date"—at least the latter will be next year.

Exception.—Pleasant Christmas Bills: Bills of Fare.

THE NEW HEROINE.

(A Scene from the Drama of To-morrow.)

Edwin. And do you really love me?

Angelina. With all my heart and soul; and yet——

Edwin. Yet what? Angelina, why do you look so strangely at me? There is something on your mind, something you have not the courage to tell me.

Angelina. Edwin, I can hide nothing from you. Even though it should wreck both our lives, you have the right to know the truth.

Edwin. My own darling, what is in your heart?

Angelina. Can you bear to hear it? Don't look at me, or I shall not have the courage to say what must be said. Edwin, I have never lived a disreputable life.

Edwin (burying his face in his hands). Great Heaven! and I believed in you so utterly. (Then rising, with a desperate effort to control his emotion.) Good-bye.

Angelina (falling on her knees, and clinging to him). Ah, no, you shall not go. Think of it, Edwin, of the temptations to virtue that surrounded me, of the examples of simple girlhood that poisoned my youth. If I have lived a life of spotless innocence, remember, at least, that I knew no better. What else could I do? Brought up from earliest infancy by a mother of unblemished reputation?

Edwin (with a gesture of horror). Your mother, too? Angelina, our marriage is impossible.

Angelina. How hard you men are. Is your sex alone to have the monopoly of innocence? Must there always be one law for women and another for dramatic authors? Oh, it is cruel! cruel! But you will not leave me. Remember, I am still young: it is never too late to err. And is it because I am a woman that I am to be denied the chance of retrieving the innocence of a mis-spent youth by the indiscretions of a riper womanhood? Besides, are there not cases, cases known to us both where a wife has lived down the terrible reproach of a blameless girlhood? Why, even Mr. Jones's latest heroine, and there is nothing later than that, could not absolutely prove she had gone wrong, and yet her husband took her back! But you are so proud, so relentless. You have no pity in your heart.

Edwin. Believe me, it is not pride. For myself, I would gladly brave the censure of the world, and if in after years men