class="sc">Augustus Druriolanus Imperator, of course, represents "the Government," and Messrs. H. J. Leslie and Harris (Charles of that ilk) are "Her Majesty's Opposition," who are to be congratulated on their Pantomime of Cinderella at Her Majesty's Theatre. Having purchased the book,—which must be classed among the "good books" of the season,—I can say decidedly that there is a considerable, though not a material, difference between the Pantomime Cinderella "as she is wrote" by the two pretty men "Messrs. Richard and Henry,"—whose surnames, I am informed, are synonymous with those of a great English theologian and a still greater English astronomer,—and "the Pantomime Cinderella" as she is now performed at Her Majesty's. "Cut and run" must ever be the motto of the Playright's and the theatrical Manager's action; but what astonished me, before I consulted the book, was the omission on the stage of the striking dramatic climax,—especially striking, because a clock is involved in it,—of Cinderella's story.

Portrait of Cinderella "Palmer quæ meruit." A Minnie-ture.

Could I believe my eyes, when, after a magnificent ball-room scene, where the colours are grouped with consummate skill and taste, I saw the handsome prince Miss Robina remplaçante of Miss Violet Cameron, lead to her place in the centre of that glittering throng the petite et pétillante Cinderella in her Court dress, wearing her little glass slippers (very little slippers, and very little glass), and then, nothing happened, except that the next Scene descended, and hid them from view.

But, Heavens! had the Clock in the Palace Yard stopped? Had its works got out of order? Had it followed the example of the Dock and Gasmen, and "struck," by refusing to strike? Ah! "Inventor and Producer," Ah! Mr. H. J. Leslie, "Ah!" to everyone who had a hand in this sacrilege; "Ah!" on behalf of Messrs. Richard and Henry, who could not have yielded this point except under a strong protest,—please restore this. We would all of us from eight years old (permitted by home licence to go to theatres at night during Christmas holidays), and up to over fifty (compelled to go to look after the others, and delighted to do so)—we would all of us rather hear the clock strike twelve, see Cinderella in rags, running for bare life, see the Prince in despair at the flight of his partner, on whose card his name was down for sixteen more valses and galops, than witness a black-and-white dance, with fans, pretty in itself, and set to very pretty Solomonesque music, but meaningless as regards plot.

Here is the stage-direction—"At the end of song"—which should have been a national song, by Mr. Clement Scott, but wasn't—in fact, there was no song at all, as well as I can remember, though I rather think the crowd were always more or less singing a chorus,—"clock strikes." If it did, I didn't hear it. If it did, why didn't the characters behave as sich, and on Cinderella's saying what the authors have written, and which I am positive I didn't hear,

why didn't they execute a "Hurried Gallop," and why wasn't the stage-direction, "The Ball breaks up,"—the printer prefers "breakes up,"—"in wild confusion" carried out? No one knows better than this present scribe what changes are necessitated at the last moment, and after the book is published. But an alteration which omits the point of the story is scarcely an improvement. It does not affect me that the demon Scroogins was reduced comparatively to a dummy, for poor Mr. Shiel Barry was suffering from dreadful hoarseness, and could hardly speak, much less sing. There were originally too many plums in the pudding. The knock-about scene by two Armstrongs, in imitation of our old friends the Two MACS, very ingeniously introduced as Jeames the First and Jeames the Second, Royal Footmen, is immensely funny. Cinderella's jödelling lullaby is pretty. All the music is bright and lively, and I fancy that though there are the names of four or five Composers to the bill, Conductor Solomon,—who keeps them all going, and sticks to his beat with the tenacity of a policeman,—has done the major part of it, and the minor too. Bravo, Mr. Edward Solomon! "What's a hat without a head?" and what's a Norchestra without a Ned? Mr. Alfred Cellier is responsible for a charming minuet.

One more question—Where were "the Lyrics by Mr. Clement Scott?" Is Mr. Leslie satisfied with one Lyric in Shaftesbury Avenue? And is he keeping back Mr. Scott's for his next Opera? Perhaps though, as Miss Violet Cameron now appears as the Prince, the lyrics are sweetly sung, which is an inducement to revisit Cinderella chez elle.

The Transformation Scene is very effective. Will the Public ever regain their taste for the short Pantomime, with one Big Show in it, and an hour's Harlequinade.

Jack in the Private Box.

A JAPANESE BELLE.

Edwin Arnold, Knight and Poet, vividly descriptive man,
I'm in love, and you must know it, with your belle in far Japan.

Her kimono looks so telling with sleeve swaying in the wind,
And the amber obi swelling into satin bows behind.

Though her charming little nose is, you confess, a trifle flat,
When the lips are red as roses, who would stop to think of that?

Sunny smiles so sweet and simple, scornful cynic soul might win,
While a most bewitching dimple guards the fascinating chin.

Teeth the purest pearl outshining, shell-pink nails, and she will wear
Just one red camellia twining in her ebon wealth of hair.

Jet looks grey beside her tresses blacker than the murk midnight,
While the little hand that presses each coquettish curl shines white.

She is quite an avis rara, but her lips for me were dumb,
Though she murmured, "Sayonara," and again should bid me come.

If her fairy ears I frighten with the wild words of the West,
Surely love will come to lighten all the burden of my breast.

I will learn her awful lingo, if by any chance I can;
I'll despoil the gay flamingo to provide her with a fan.

She will note my admiration, smiling in a sweet surprise,
And there can be conversation lovers learn 'twist eyes and eyes.

Come what will, methinks I'll chance it, and for pretty things to say,
I will read up, during transit, all The Light of