acknowledge even the existence of their employés. The usual congratulatory Motions were put, pro formâ, and passed, and, amid a general manifestation of gloomy satisfaction, the meeting was further adjourned.

"A Salvage Man."

IN SELF-DEFENCE.

Jones (who has just told his best Story, and been rewarded with a gentle smile). "UPON MY WORD, WOMEN HAVEN'T GOT THE REAL SENSE OF HUMOUR! WHY, WHEN I HEARD THAT STORY FOR THE FIRST TIME, ONLY LAST WEEK, I SIMPLY ROARED!"

Miss Smith. "SO DID I—ONLY IT WAS LAST YEAR!"

FROM OUR MUSICAL BOX.

We sent our Musical Box (Cox being unable to accompany him on the piano or any other instrument, by reason of the severe weather) to hear STAVENHAGEN at St. James's Hall, Thursday last, the 22nd. Our Musical B. was nearly turned out of the hall, he was in such ecstasies of delight over a Beethovenly concerto, which "bangs Banagher," he said, subsequently translating the expression by explaining, "that is, beats BEETHOVEN." Our M.B. wept over a cadenza composed by the performer, and was only restored by the appearance—her first—of Madame STAVENHAGEN, who gave somebody's grand scena far better, probably, than that somebody could have given it himself, set as it was to fine descriptive music by the clever STAVENHAGEN, which delighted all hearers, especially those who were Liszt-eners. "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 VERSÂ.

"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.

FINAL TABLEAU, ACT I.

"O does not a Meeting (House) like this make amends?"
Ham Christison (Clown). "Ullo! Oh my! I'm a looking at yer!"

At all events, Drusilla Ives, alias "the Dancing Girl "—though as to where she dances, how she dances, and when she dances, we are left pretty well in the dark, as she only gives so slight a taste of her quality that it seemed like a very amateurish imitation of Miss KATE VAUGHAN in her best day,—Drusilla Ives is the mistress, neither pure nor simple, of the Duke of Guisebury,—a title which is evidently artfully intended by the, at present, "Only JONES" to be a compound of the French "Guise" and the English "Bury,"—who from his way of going on and playing old gooseberry with his property, might have been thus styled with advantage: and so henceforth let us think and speak of him as His Grace or His Disgrace the Duke of Gooseberry.

This Duke of Gooseberry visits, "quite unbeknown,"—being, for this occasion only, the Duke of Disguisebury,—his own property, the Island of St. Endellion, just to see, we suppose, what sort of people the Quaker family may be from which his mistress, the Dancing Quakeress (and how funny she used to be at the Music Halls and at the Gaiety!), has sprung. For some reason or other, the Dancing Quakeress has gone to stay a few weeks with her family in the country, and while this hypocritical Daughter of HERODIAS is with her Quaker belongings at prayers in the Meeting House, the spirit moveth her to come out, and to come out uncommonly strong, as, within a yard or so of the building, she laughs and talks loudly with Gooseberry, and then in a light-hearted way she treats the Dook to some amateur imitations of ELLEN TERRY, finishing up with a reminiscence of KATE VAUGHAN; all of which al fresco entertainment is given for the benefit of the aforesaid Gooseberry within sound of the sermon and within sight of the Meeting House windows. Suddenly her rustic Quaker lover, a kind of Ham Peggotty, lounges out of the Conventicle, which, as these persons seem to leave and enter just when it suits them, ought rather to be called a Chapel-of-Ease,—and, like the clown that he is, says in effect, "I'm a-looking at yer! I've caught yer at it!" Dismay of Dook and Dancer!! then Curtain on a most emphatically effective situation.

Two "Regular Dawgs" having a tête-à-tête.

The Second Act is far away the best of the lot, damaged, however, by vain repetitions of words and actions. To the house where Miss Dancing Girl is openly living under the protection of Gooseberry, the Duke's worthy Steward actually brings his virtuous and ingenuous young daughter! If ever there were a pair of artful, contriving, scheming humbugs, it is this worthy couple. Because the Duke