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/ IIAT is life -without Anastasi:::" asks the hero in one of Mr. John MadDison Morton's best farces. IIo answers himself "Nothing," an J tnen goes on, "What is Anastasia without life? NothingiV "t% still f" Let us say, what is Mrs. Frank Matthews without a farce by Mr. Maddibonmorton? Something? What is a furoe by Mn. Maddison Morton without Mrs. Frank Matthews? Nothing at all: at least sueh a farce as 1'outn 's Wedding at the St. James's. With S writer of Mr. Morton's breadth, humour, and antecedents, there is no occasion to mince matters. The piece is a bad piece, and some of the dialogue is very objectionable. In the nineteenth century some nust be paid to the convenances. For a minute we thought we were listening to tho dialoguo of Faruuhar, and not of Morton, though the next moment convinced us that we were listening to MoRTOlLand not to Farquijar. At tho thoflte'e it is always considered jt good^>ke that a man should be a man and a woman a woman, but lun of this sort may be too strongly insisted on. One of our especial aversions is a great he-man dressod up in women's clothes. It is a desecration ofJthat garment of "mystical sublimity"—tho petticoat, though for thto the authors of the original French piece, Lea Xoccs dt Merluchet, are accountable

Mr. Robson, in whom the audience naturally take a great interest, acted the part of a young countryman excellently. We dare to prophesy gqod things of this young gentleman. His powers are, as yet, far from maturity, but at some not very dfttant day, ho will learn to "hold" his audience like thoso charming artists, the Frank Matthewses. A propos of these, it is only dHessary to say that they appeared as Alderman and Mrs. Marrowfat; Mr. Montagus played a Captain Somebody, and while he wore his own proper masculine habiliments, was as agreeable and unstayey as ever. The minor parts in tho farce were also very well acted.

The Egyptian Hall, Piccadilly, the abiding placo of our muok-loved Mrs. Brown, whoso sentiments on things in general are so admirably interpreted by Mr. Arthur Sketchlby, hus now to boast of another attraction. Please to understand that Palis is still pourtrayed, and Mrs. Brown still trotted out by Mr. Sketchlev, but in another room far from Paris and Mrs. Brown, Colonel Stodare gives a magical and ventriloquial entertainment We need not describe the ventriloquy, which is very good, nor tho magic, which is also very good; we shall confine ourselves to complimenting tho gallant Coldhel on ono trick—tho Indian Basket trick, of which we havo all read in our youth (alas that word!) but which has been hitherto unattcmptcd in any part of her Majesty's feminions, tho Eastern Ind excepted. Colonel Sottiahb first exhibits to the audience Colonel Stodare, then a large basket, and then a young lady—that is, a real, liv» young lady. He puts the real live young lady into the basket and shuts her up. When wo say shuts her up we mean shuts her down, but that the intelligent and well-informed will, of course, understand. The lid closed, Colonel Stodare draws a sword, doubtless the vciy weapon which he has waved over his head when gallopifg before his regiment and bidding his bugler sound the charge; doubtless tho very game weapon with which he smoto the foes hip and thigh in tho various campaigns in which he has served. This sword tho Colonel plunges to the very hilt into the basket, and, as tho live young lady is insido the basket, necessarily into her heart. A shriek is heard; the Colonel withdraws the sword, reeking uith the blood of his victim, plunges it to tho very hilt, Sc., again —another shriek thrills the gas-lamps, another plunge, another shriek, and all is over. Tho audienco look on uneasily, and chivalric and noble hearts feel tempted to say, "Fie, Colon*., fio! Is this an act worthy of a soldier and a Stodare? The man who would take advantage; of a weak and unoffending woman in a basket is a wretch whom it would bo gross flattery to call a coward!" Nevertheless, no one flies at tho Colonel's throat, no ono rends him limb from limb or gives him into

custody, at least no one did the night that we were present. But all apprehensions are soon allayed. Ere the remorseless Colonel has time to wipe his blood-stained sword, the livo young lady, apparently more alive than over, smiles on us and kisses her hands from a private box. She has not been killed; and the gallant Colonel may again face his comrades—as he has faced Ms foes—without a blush, may gaze upon a metropolitan policeman without a qualm.

It is a capital trick, and well worth seeing, no—the thought is too terrible for expression!


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Young Nobleman to his Betrothed .{in allusion to the Curds


Air—" The Power of Love."
There's a bower whoso whey-cy

Fcmalofeouls adore,
And the cost to pay-ay

I'm prepared, I'm suro!
Pursy femalo sweetly

Ushers in my dovo,
Turns away discreetly—

Su-ueh the bow-wow-wow-cr of lo-o-o-uve!

SoloLord Arthur O'bogtrot.
Air—"Tho Harp that once in Tara's Halls."
The heart that once of Sara Sauls thought with a proud
Now thinks of Sara Sauls as a pe-cu-ni-ary gain.
I want a wife with gold and jools to pay Reporting bet,
And s-.u.v wants a Corin who has got a corinet!

DuetLord Arthur O'BocTROT^Hrf Sara Saum.
Are—" Ha! ha! the Wooing o't!"
IB {chuemng her under the chin).—

Sara, will you many me? ^
What are you doing »f?

Come, eaeh other's let us be! Sara {coyly).— Whom are you cooing of P

Lord Artiial—• Bishops score will marry we!

Sara {dazzled at the prospect., notwithstanding her persuasion).—

Well, 1 don't know, but I'll see! Lord Arthur.— H you don't, Lord A. O'B.

You'll be tho ruing of!

Sara {with an eye to the main chance).

Debts, I'm told, you, wicked lud,
Have been accruing of.
Lord Arthur {a changed man).

But Remorse's bitter cud (With appropriate action)

I've been a chewing of! ^

Sara (relenting).—If you won't do so no more—
Lord Arthur {embracing her).— «

Oh, of that be^ry suro—
Us together bishops score

Soon shall be glueing of!

{Comic dance oj).)

Cnoitrs Of Crowd.
Jiir—" Here's to the Maiden of Bashful Fifteen."

Here is lady of bashful nineteen,

Who's obliged, more's the shame, to bo thrifty;
I am told that her mother-in-law is a queen,

Who is just within four years of fifty;
And it's now very long since abroad she did show,

And it's long since she did any duty,
But it's some consolation that all of us know

That her dan%hter-in-law is a beauty!
If I were that lass,
I'm sure I should pass
All tho morning in watching myself in the glass!

Sir Henry Aladdin [in referent* to his afflicted lovt).

(air—" Gaily the Troubadour.")

Gaily Badroulbadour bears her catarrh
Sniffling and whiffling I hear from afar,
All influenzaly over tho globe.
♦" How le loo 'i How 1c loo? How'th all a-dobe P"


Am—"I'm Dreaming now of Hally."

I'm screaming now aw-fally! aw-fally! aw-fally!
I'm screaming now aw-fally,
For a shocking murder's to be sold by mo!
Committed by a valet—by a valet—by a valet,
Committed by a valet
On a noble lady known as Mrs. B.!

Listen to the shocking murder, shocking murder, shocking mnrd

The shocking murd committed on the weeping Widow B.!

(air changes to "A horrible tale.")

An airy bell tale I have to tell

Of a tall manservant in Pell Mcll,

Who scorning cold meat there provided,

Cut up his missis, who immedi-ately dieded!

For, oh, it is a airy boll tale, And sounds so very like a wail, That I myself am overcome! Crowd (sceptically).—Twaddle, twaddle, twaddle, twaddle, twum!



We mean two advertisements, inoro comic than usual. The first runs":—

CHILDREN '(Nurse); could take a family, low; commencing 3s. Cd. per week; very healthy, near Ite^ent's-park.

This may bo proposed to ingonious readers as a riddle. The want of the advertiser is evidently "children." It is clear that a nurse "could take a family," but why that family should be low passes our comprehension. We presume that Bhe would object to a family that was respectable, turn up her nose at a family that was genteel, and mock at and scorn one that was aristocratic. Then how can a low family " commence at 3s. 6d. per week ?" and why should 3s. 6d. per week be considered " vory healthy, near Eegont's-pork?" The health of the sum of 3s. 6d. does not vary with locality. Let us hope that the wishes of the advertiser may be speedily crowned with suocesa, and that Bhe may meet with the lowest of families and the healthiest of three and sixpences in the immediate vicinity of Rcgont's-park.

Astley's Theatre announces the return of "that public favourite, the daring and graceful actress, Miss Adah Isaacs Menken*," in terms that compel us to say of the eccentric and dazzling concoctor of the advertisement, "again ho urges on his wild career." The gifted writer says:'—"The happy termination of the war recals her (Miss Menken) to America, but before leaving England Mr, E. T. Smith has secured her services for Astley's for only a few nights!" Happy America, where the war is terminated! Wretched England, about to be deserted of its Menken! And thrice happy E. T. Smith to havo secured her services for only a few nights I

But to continue:—

"This graceful and classic actreFS is the first of all thoso who have appeared In the character of &tazcppa who has dared actually to ride on the bare-backed steed up the rakes of tin theatre."

We trust our million readers will not misunderstand this. The distinguished paragraphist has only forgotten in his enthusiasm that tho general public are unacquainted with hippodrome technicalities. Ho does not mean to say that Miss Adah Isaacs Mehxen actually rides the bare-backed steed over those padded, scented, wigged, patentleatheTed, eye-glassed old (and young) roues who are supposed by some worthy but mistaken people to be found constantly behind tho scenes of a playhouse. No! Miss Adah Isaacs Menken, graceful, classic, and daring though she be, would shrink from such a cruel task. Tho word "rakes" signifies thoso raised and in«lined platforms up and down which the bare-backed steed walks, or rather stumbles, with his fair burden on his back. The old fogies with the false teeth— "ghastly grinners in tho booth of Vanity Fair" as Thackeray would havo called them, are still safe—Mnzeppa would not touch them with a horse-shoe, though he might, perhaps, with a horse-whip. But to continue tho advertisement:—

""When Miss Menken returns to America the will bo able to assure the Americans that the people of England hnve received'her kindly, cheered her heartily, patronised her liberally, and bestowed npon her the rati English 'Hurrah 1'"

And what a pleasure that will be to Miss Menken, to the Americans, and to the people of England! And so hurrah! for the compiler of the advertisement. Perhaps—who knows ?—it may bo the bare-backed steed himself!

A Mem. Por The Mormons.—To marry two wives is bigamy; to marry twenty is Brioham-t.


By The Saunterer In Society.

The whitebait having been eaten, the season may bo accounted virtually over. Of what was said and dono at Tho Trafalgar on the occasion, though of course present, I am too modest to speak; but I may divulge, that tho delicate little fish was fried, devilled, and souchied in deference to Mit. Gladstone's taste for triplets, while the sherry was all Ambcr(ley) in delicate compliment to tho paternal affection of Earl Ru6.sell. A few Innocents, in no sense important, remain to be massacred, and then the Herod-itory bondsmen of St. Stephen's will bo free to depart and tako a blow on tho moors or wheresoever else they elect, until the time comes for them to be elected.

Talking of elections, I sco Liskeard, the so-called " model borough" —and no place ever deserved the title less—has been setting what I supposo we must call its wit to Bernal Osborne's, and has como off a little the worse in the encounter. Until his timo, since that of Buller, few small constituencies have been so lucky in getting little places and appointments from Government. It has in fact parted with its birthright for a good many spoonfuls of pottage, and is entirely in tho hands of a few local legal luminaries, who eke out goneral practice with a political agency. Henceforth I supposo wo shall hear nothing more of it; it has retired to the limbo of little constituencies. But the underhand way in which it has plotted against its last member is not a graceful act of retirement, and the new candidate, Sir Arthur Buller, should lose no time in trying to "prove non-complicity in the affair, ne is not expected to possess his brother's genius, but he ought to keep the name untarnished by a suspicion of political larceny. In other respects he and his constituents are well matched, for thoy retomble the men who returned Cuarles Buller as much as ho resembles that clever statesman.

Trial by jury is no doubt a great institution, but it by no means follows that juries are what they should bo. About the most flagrant act of injustice ever committed by a jury, was a decision arrived at by a special panel last week before the Chief Justice. A widow sued for damages for herself and children for the loss of her husband who was run over by an omnibus under circumstances of admitted neglect. The suriiming-up pointed out clearly, that though tho poor fellow was crossing the road at an unexpected point; that—even though it amounted to carelessness (which I can't admit, for surely ono may cross a road anywhere)—was no reason why ho should be run over. Tho jury after some delay returned a verdict for the plaintiff, damages forty shillings, or as they subsequently apportioned it—ten shillings for the loss of a husband, and thirty shillings for the loss of a father, tho latter sum to bo divided among several children. As Chief JUstice Cockburn remarked, this is "too much or too little," and it was quite plain, as ho further said, that the men who had taken an oath to administer justice had "evaded tho responsibility of a satisfactory decision, and some of them being for a verdict of substantial damages, and others against it they had agreed to compromise." I hope such a verdict is unparalleled in tho history of juries.

The coroner's inquest at Staplehurst has resulted in a verdict of manslaughter against Benoe and Gillimore. Under the circumstances nothing else could bo expected, but I think tho company has been exonerated on too easy terms. The rules and regulations are obviously very faulty, and tho power given to an- uneducated man like Benge, over the lives and limbs of so many helpless travellers shows a blot in the system. Curiously enough all tho precautions against accident prescribed by the rules arc carefully ordered to bo taken when they are obviously too late to be of service Ono thing is clear:—not a rail should be disturbed until notice has been given at the station preceding on the line wh-ere repairs are required. A Bmall battery with the means of attaching it to the telegraph wires, should be camel by every gang of plate-lnyors; the expense would be very small compared with the saving of life, and the operation so simple that a man who " mislookcd the timo table," could hardly make a blunder.

I See Toole, the inimitable, takes his benefit to-morrow, and I suppose, in spite of the heat will be warmly supported by his friends and admirers—at any rate he should bo stoutly backed by those corpulent people, who having nearly fallen victims to tho Banting epidemic were restored—I may say, " brought round"—by the laughter he provokes. By the way, is the manager of the Olympic so occupied in prosecuting music halls, that he can't attend to the interests of that theatre, or does the company, joint-stock, disagree with the company theatrical? Twelfth Xight, as revived here, does not seem to prevail on the British public to come, and might bo plaintively advertised therefore as " What, you won't!" What has become of Mr. Henry Neville, and is the stock of French dramas exhausted, that we have no new and original pieces from Mr. Tom Taylor \

The Last Op The English Improvisators.—Ultimus Slomanorum.



Stinyy Tarty:"are You Not Satisfied, Sir?"

CMy:—" Don't Make No Comments On It—You've Done It Now, And There's A Hend Of It—But Rest-eot My Feelin's!'


By K. V. K. An' M.

"Hark, hark, the dogs do bark."

If you ploase, Mr. Fun, from the way that you spoke of the dogs in

the late exhibition, The dog show, I moan, over- Islington way, I guess you've a kind


And will let every dog have his day, or his say, just to utter a word in defence,

Or pour out his whine. (I'm in no mood to jest, my sorrow's so very intense.)

They say that I'm had, that I'm mad, and, egad, they all of them vow I must die;

But I've just got one question to put to them first (it's dog-Latin),

and that is, " Cur—why f" There's only one reason that they can allege, which muBt, as you very

well know, be a

More groundless panic, because it is proved that the dog-days don't

bring hydrophobia. And as for the cases you read in the papers you ought to have far too

much wit

To put faith in what they say. You do not believe there's been anyone bitten, a bit.

But even if there were, that can't surely be grounds for destroying

the wholo canine race. You cannot moan that, or, at least, if you do, I'll just put a similar


Because one Teuton tailor committed a murder, you would not in

stanter determine To hang every tailor, who's German, for fear of crimo there his breast

is a germ in.

Don't kill us, then, please, because life's always sweet, though a street-dog's existence is bitter.

I havo been in a mess ever since the first day I was born; I was then in a litter.

I was never brought up, but I was taken down—to the river, a stone

my neck tied at,

But I sliied at my fate and escaped, but since then by hard fate havo

been frequently shied at; For while I was still a young dog—a sad dog—they cut off my tail

for a lark,

And, poor vagrant, I _"now am a wandering voice—I should say, a rudderless bark.

I'm a scavenger living on all sorts of scraps; I feel certain benevolent men'11

Be pained when they learn I depend for my board, as well as my bed, on a kennel.

Now I'm shunned in a pointed and personal way by each single soul upon earth;

Andjwrn to such straits as I've tried to describe, I'm not used to

this very wide berth. So pity my case, Mr. Fun, and please call on your readers to pity


To a race they entitle "the true friends of man," and which haven't

just now got a friend. Pray pardon the length: this epistle has reached—it has reached it I

cannot tell how,

But I trust you'll insert it. In which hopo I close my letter, and mako my bow—wow.

SING, TVUALLEY, SING! Mr. Whalley is opposed to any measure which will recognize the influence of the Masses.

The Candidate For Stroud.—The Headless Horsman (by the kind permission of Captain Mayne Retd).


Father Thames (with effusion):—"G-GOOD BYE! I MAY NOT SEE YOU HEEE AGAIN NEXT YEAE!"

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