TABLE TALK

Evening Star, Volume 8261, Issue 8261, 5 July 1890, Page 3 (Supplement)

TABLE TALK

SOCIAL, THEATRICAL, AND SPORTING. [From Our Lon bon Correspondent,] London, May 9. The Stanley reception at St. James’s Hall on Friday evening was a most magnificent function. Every available member of the Royal Family, from the Prince and Princess of Wales and Prince Albert Victor (arrived home only a few hours previously), down to Prince Victor of Hohenlohe, occupied seats on the platform, and the spacious auditorium literally teemed with privileged celebrities, The Prince of Wales, as usual, spoke in excellent taste and with commendable distinctness. Would that the hero of the evening had followed his example in the latter particular. Whether Stanley was overpowered by the splendor of his reception, or whether he had simply a cold, I don’t know ; but throughout a large portion of his interesting discourse the great man proved hopelessly indistinct. Even the reporters jnst below the platform seemed frequently puzzled, and the feelings of his baflled but polite auditoia in the background I leave to the imagination. Society has had so far to do without its “lion.” Stanley sees nobody, and is alleged to bo very busy correcting the proofs of his new book. On Monday the hero of the hoar was commanded to Windsor to dine and sleep. Several gallant attempts have since been made to interview him on the subject of what the Queen said to him and he said to the Queen, but without success. At the sight of a newspaper man Stanley assumes his grimmest, most forbidding manner, and the man who would venture on a “ draw ” under such circumstances doesn’t exist.

Dr Parke, Mr Bonny, and Mr Jephson were present at the ordinary weekly dinner of the Savage Club on Saturday evening, and, of course, had to make speeches. They seem very genial unaffected young men, and are at present quite unspoilt by the flattery and adulation so liberally heaped upon then. Dr Parke is Stanley’s special favorite, and in speeches and conversation he constantly refers to him in terms of the warmest affection. On the other hand, the explorer has never been hoard to mention Mr Bonny, and the fact of the omission of the latter from the Sandringham party is considered significant. Mr Bonny himself has been questioned as to his relations with bis chief, and professes that they are perfectly satisfactory. The young man is probably biding his time. Ho knows that he and he alone can tell the story of the most ill-fated portion of the expedition.

The labor demonstration on Sunday was a gigantic affair, yet so perfectly organised that a mere handful of police easily regu- ■ lated the traffic. Reporters specially posted at the park gates reckoned that the demonstrators (wh Iking eight and ten abreast) j numbered {130,000, and I think they must I bo right, as never before at similar mass i meetings have I seen the great playground of the West End half so crowded, The most remarkable feature of the affair was the j orderliness and good nature of everybody. I As a rule, when Demos invades Hyde Park, j the smart residents of Lancaster Gate, i Bayswater, and South Kensington remain i judiciously at home. On this occasion, i however, after viewing the processionists j from its upper window’s, swelldom came to j the conclusion there was nothing to fear, and ] soon parties of well-dressed Sunday afternoon sightseers could be seen curiously permeating the throng. 1 stood near the Shirtmakcra’ platform. The speakers were of the conventional “ demonstrator ” class, and appeared to me to bo doing but little execution till a young working girl stepped forward. She had a pale, plain fneo aud a Whitechapel accent; held her bonnet in her hand, and faltered rather painfully to begin with. Yet in a few minutes this rough, uncultured creature had reduced the thousands around to strained, listening silence. In tones vibrating with intense feeling the girl said she wished to tell us what the lives of the shirtnmkers’ apprentices were like. She had assured her fellow-workers over and over again that the people did not know how’ they were starved and overworked and sweated. They’d help them as they’d helped the dockers if they did. The speaker then dived into detail, and vividly described the shirtmakers’ bare, sordid, hopeless struggle for existence. After working - us up considerably she suddenly dropped her voice and said : “ Three years ago come Juno a spruce bit of a ehapcoomes our way with book aud pencil. ‘ Parlymint,’ says he, 4 ’as ’card o’ your grievances and the sweating, and is goin’ to mend things. But you must give mo facs (facts).’ Lor ! I give ’im buahells o’ fac’s, and orf ’c goes. Then wo waits and ’opes a year, but nothing ’appens. In June spruce chap coomes again. 4 It’s all right,’ he, ‘ there’s a ’mission (commission) a inquiring

like anything!;. Some o’ you gals must be ’xamined.’ Well, some of us was. Our Liza were one. She come ’ome in rare sperrita. ‘ Parlymint,’ she says, ‘ is agoin’ to right us.’ We ’ad bloaters for tea that night in honor of the occasion.—(Laughter.) Then we waited, and ’oped, and’ oped, and ’oped till wo were sick. T’other day I sees spruce chap in Oxford street. Collorin’ of ’ini, I says : • What ’as Parlymint done for us i ’ 4 Not much, I fear,’ says ’o, rerious-likc. ‘ It’s a pity,’ 1 says, 4 as ’ow you couldn’t i leave us poor girls alone. ’Avn’t we (with j intense bitterness) enough tn bear that you must come a blatherin’ about fees, and ’missions, and ’xacainations, and raisin’ ’opes as were never to be fulfilled.’ And now,” cried the girl, “ ’ang Parlymint, say I, I believe in the people—in you (excitedly), brothers aud sisters. Tell the rich folk that if they won’t ’elp us a little (Gord knows we don’t want much), we’ll turn upon them cruel and make them suffer as they’ve made us suffer.” I think it must hare been the girl’s silver voice and intense earnestness that held us all for the fifteen minutes she spoke. Many people around me were powerfully moved, and had the fair orator chosen to 44 send round the hat” there and then for the cause, I am convinced every person within hearing would have liberally responded. In the first room at the Academy Millais has a perfect landscape, ‘ The moon is up, and yet it is not night,’ a title which gives a reasonable idea of the subject ; and not far off I noticed Mr Ayerst Ingram’s 4 Flying Dutchman,’ which pictures a meeting at sea, on a gloomy, threatening evening, between a homeward-bound clipper and the spectre ship. In Gallery 111 there ia always a crowd round Mr Peter Graham, R.A.’s, ‘ Departing Day,’ a wild Scotch valley, with the sun setting behind the everlasting hills— The mist-robed mountain tops, Crowned with the (fiery of the setting sun.

Nor does anyone pass without a long look at Frank Dicksee’s chef d'oeuvre, ‘ The redemption of Tannhauser.’

Mr Fald’s chief picture is, as usual, pitched in a minor key. Entitled ‘The Anxious Lookout,’ it represents a Scotch fisherman’s wife, with two children clinging to her, hungrily searching the gloomy horizon for some sign of her husband’s boat. Briton Riviere (always intensely human) shows us a shepherd boy and his faithful collie, who have by some mischance strayed into a great city and got lost. The boy is seated on a doorstep, in a state of veriest dejection, one arm round his canine friend. The dog, on the other hand, is alert and excited, its ears cocked. Evidently the sagacious beast sniffs a coming friend. The first (and last) Lord Hammond, who died the other day at Mentone at an advanced age, was the leading light of the Foreign Office for twenty years, but in society of not much account. He got his peerage (on dit) in rather an odd manner. About sixteen years ago Mr Gladstone offered Mr Hammond a baronetcy, but through some blunder on the part of a private secretary the Premier’s letter read “ barony.” It was not till the recipient replied gratefully accepting the Queen’s

gracious proffer of a peerage that the letter book was looked up and the mistake discovered. Puzzled how to act, the G.O.M. consulted the Queen, who good-naturedly suggested that rather than disappoint and chagrin so old a servant they should let the peerage stand. The awful example of Lord Dunlo seems to have exercised little effect upon our jeunesne stage dorie, two more of whom (both cadets of noble families) hare just proffered marriage to renowned Gaiety belles. One learns with something akin to admiration that these modest maidens are taking time to consider their adorers’ proposals. The defective drainage of Welbeck having well-nigh killed his young wife, the Duke of Portland moved to another great house. Here the sanitary arrangements were at once looked to, and proved to be so bad that a third move was hurriedly arranged. This time His Grace selected a brand-new house fitted with the latest improvements.

TURF TALK, All the big bookmakers are full against Surefoot for the Derby, and should the colt win there will be an end of winter betting on the Epsom race. After the Two Thousand a temporary panic broke out in the Ring, and as much as 7 to 4 was laid on. Mr Merry’s colt for the great event of next month. In a few hours, however, the falseness of this price became apparent, and now 5 to 4 on is the nominal current rate, though yesterday a backer who wished to lay 5,0C0 to 4,000 on the favorite could not bo accommodated. Mr A. W. Merry, the owner of Surefoot, is a son of the Mr Merry who won the Derby with Thormanby and Doncaster. Young Mr Merry has the nice bet of LIO.OOO to LIOO about his crack’s chance. He took it, of course, a long time ago from the two amateurs who make a yearling book on the Derby. These gentlemen are at present in the reverse of an enviable position. The money on their book for the coming race amounts to LS,OOO only, so that they will have to back the favorite to win L 2.000 in order to have enough to pay Mr Merry’s wager. Sir James Miller has purchased Sainfoin from Porter for L 7,000 and contingencies should the horse win the Derby. Evidently the Kingsclcro magnate doesn’t believe in the colt beating Surefoot or he would not have parted with him. Notwithstanding the fallen fortunes of the once famous Chester Cup there is no meeting of which the Loudon professionals are fonder, and I was quite surprised at the large number of backers and bookmakers journeying northwards comparatively early on Monday last. The fact is, of course, they like the quaint old cathedral city, with its ancient monuments aud wonderful river.

The weather was beautifully fine at Chester both on Tuesday and Wednesday, and the Roodee seemed to be crowded as ever with sightseers. The Mostyn Stakes, for two-year-olds (the chief event of Tuesday), resulted in a highly popular victory for the Duke of Westminster, whose colt by Bond Or, out of a Hermit marc (now named Orinoco), won after a desperate race with the outsider Abunai. Though His Grace was on his favorite battle ground, there were two better backed youngsters than Orinoco, against whom at last 4 to 1 was offered.

j On Monday last a few bets were for the first time this year laid on the Chester Cup. A change of days indeed from the times when Jackson was known to lie round on I each of three LSOO books on the “ Moog ” (as S it was then popularly called) before ChristI mas. Though showing an improvement j in point of numbers to the fields of recent I j years, the quality of Wednesday’s runners j was deplorable. There w’ere ten starters, t and the two favorites, Mr 8. J. Baker’s | Tyrant (3 yrs, 7st, by Beauclerc—Queen of j the Meadows) and Baron Hirseh’s Vasistas finished first and second, with Mr Charlton’s Silver Spur a bad third. The stable hacked the favorite for all that could bo got on down to 2 to 1, yet win, it is said, barely L3.0D0. Twenty-five yea-a ago nothing was easier than to back a Chester Cup candidate to win LIOOjOOO. The Manchester Cup has in truth completely taken the place of the older handicap. THEATRICAL NOTES. Despite advancing years and a distinct tendency towards embonpoint, Mrs Frederick Marshall, erstwhile Ada Cavendish, will next week emerge from retirement to play (ye gods ami litfcio linhca !) Aphrodite, in Robert Buchanan’s new poetic drama 4 The i Bride of Love.’ Notwithstanding the success for several weeks of ‘A Midsummer Night’s Dream’ at the Globe Theatre, Mr Bonoon’s London season has cost him L 4,000. The mounting of 4 Othello’ and 4 Hamlet’ materially accounts for this. At the Adelpid Theatre 4 Dick Venables,’ a christened 4 Jackman the Panther,’ would have ran two years. At the Shaftesbury, the play’ (capitally cut down though it has been) won’t “geo,” Mr Henry A. Jones’s new piece is advertised for Saturday week. In it v, 7 e arc to see Mr Willard in quite a fresh character part. Despite the magnificence of the mounting, I doubt Sardou’s 4 Theodora ’ catching on at the Princess’s Theatre. Miss Grace Hawthorne has played the wicked Queen in the provinces with fair success, and might pass I in Australia ; but here in London the only person wc tolerate in the 44 divine Sara’s” parts is the “ sublime Bornie.” Mrs Beere ! should have been invited to play Theodora. All town would then have flocked to Oxford street, for Leonard Boyne, as I Andreas, is good, and your recent visitor, W. [IL Vernon, makes an admirable Justinian.

Madame Patti is hack again, having during her recent American tour made some LBO,OOO for herself and Nicolini, and L 12.000 for Impresario Gran. La Diva’s voice indubitably begins to show signs of weakness, and I think she is quite right to have resolved to finally retire on her fiftieth birthday, which will be in 1893. M. Gran recently cabled to the De Reske brothers ashing their terms for an American tour. The silver-voiced tenor Jean demanded L4OO per night, his brother Edouard (the baritone) generously expressing himself ready to accept half that honorarium. Gran groaned, lie couldn’t run to that.

Isidore De Lara, who lias been studying in Italy, and is on the point of blossoming into a full-fledged tenor on the operatic stage, tells a good story anent a Paris experience. It was at a theatrical party, and his companion for the moment was an 44 Annirrican ” widow (needless to say like all her kind 41 rich, cute, and chcarming ”). 44 Tell me, Mr Do Lara,” asked the lady, 44 are all these people artists, or arc some ladies and gentlemen V Mrs Langtry’s premiere of ‘ Esther Sandra/. ’ last Saturday suffered from clashing with the Academy dinner and other big social functions. There was, however, a tolerably smart audience, and the play (the plot of which I described to you some months back) passed off tolerably. As the neglected woman, whose passionate love turns to equally passionate hate, the Jersey Lily made another half-and-half success. In the love scenes she was charming, but her passionate outbursts lacked realism. LITERARY NOTES.

Two new series of popular biographies commence this month the ‘ Heroes of Nations,’ five shilling series, which opens with a monograph on “ Nelson ”by Clark Russell, and ‘ People the World has Talked About,’ a shilling series, which Percy Fitzgerald initials with a sketch of ‘ Theodore of Corsica.’ ‘A Secret Mission, ’theserial recently commenced in ‘ Blackwood,’ is not by Captain Andrew Haggard as at first conjectured, but by the Miss Gerald who wrote most of ‘Beggar My Neighbor. It opens pro-

misingly. Even rabid Tories will not be able to read William O’Brien’s * When We Were Boys ’ without feeling increased respect and liking for the author. It is a breezy, rollicking story, reminding one of Lever, and full of stirring well-told incidents. Needless to say Mr O’Brien’s prejudices and convictions crop up on every page, but somehow not offensively. After reading ‘When We Were Boys,’l acquit the author of being a poseur. I confess I always thought the affair of the trousers extremely suspicions and theatrical. Now I incline to believe that O’Brien fought (as he alleged he did) for a principle. Miss Mathilde Blind’s translation of the journals of the ill-fated young Russian phenomenon, ‘ Marie Bashkirteff, 1 was published by Cassells on Monday. Mudie, somewhat to the general surprise, has not “ boycotted” the work, bat I would, never-

theless, suggest that it should bekept out of the way of the young and imaginative women.

May 23. A very interesting literary secret has just transpired. It is to the effect that the ex-Empress Eugenie has been seized with the current craze for “ reminiscing,” and written a most entertaining chronicle of the early days of the Second Empire, which will, however, not be given to the world till after her death. That Her Majesty could reveal many strange eventful histories and quaint esclandres of that brilliant period, if she' chose, is, of course, indubitable ; and once upon a time she might have enjoyed doing so. Nowadays I doubt the poor lady possessing the spirit. Her Majesty’s first intention was to complete the chronicle up to the fatal days of 1870, but she tired of the labor at 1859, and has on dit abruptly broken off with the war of that year. The Empress, after reading the MS. through twice, handed it, with other papers, to Baron Jerome David, who is to be her literary executor. The papers include a number of letters from the ill-fated Prince Imperial to his mother, and from the Emperor Napoleon 111. to his wife. None are to be utilised for publication till the Empress has been dead six months. Her Majesty is in very weak health, and quite persuaded she cannot live long. She, nevertheless, keeps a fairly brisk correspondence with our own Queen and other friends. The new generations of Parisians the old lady cannot abide,

Stanley’s bride. The wife Mr Stanley has been looking for for twenty years, and has at last found, is in every way worthy of the Buccaneer of the Congo. Miss Dorothy Tennant is in her way as exceptional a woman as Henry Morton Stanley is an exceptional man. To rare beauty and intelligence the lady adds artistic and literary abilities of a very high order. She is also a well knofvn philanthropist, devoting much time and thought to the reclamation of the street Arabs whose characteristics she so successfully portrays on canvas. Readers of the ‘ English Illustrated Magazine’ will remember Miss Tennant’s articles therein on the small vagrants of the London streets, illustrated as they were by marvellously lifelike sketches. Miss Tennant has pictures both in the Academy and New Gallery this year. The one in the latter, ‘ Street Arabs at play,’ hangs on the line, and is admired by all sorts and conditions of critics. Miss Dorothy Tennant’s face happens, curiously enough, to be familiar to thousands, as tho lady stood for the model of one of Millais’s best known and most popular efforts—‘ Yes or No.’ This picture some of your readers are sure to remember. It represents a tall, beautiful girl meditating on the answer to a fateful letter which she holds in her hand. The engraving sold far and wide, so that there are sure to bo copies in the colony. Miss Tennant became engaged to the explorer before he started on his last expedition, but in view of the dangers to be encountered and the terrible possibility of his never returning, both parties preferred the matter should bo kept a secret. What the brave lady suffered during those terrible times when Stanley was reported dead one can only imagine. Let us hope all such troubles arc now finally over. Doubtless, Mr Stanley will return to Africa, but as reformer rather than explorer, and accompanied by his wife. The marriage is to be celebrated at the end of June, and, needless to sr.y, promises to be the generally interesting wedding of the season. In love, as in war, the resolute explorer has succeeded where many others have failed. During the last four or five years Mica Tennant is said to have had many highly flattering and eligible offers. Mr Balfour (now engaged to someone else) was at one time supposed to have been actually accepted by the young lady, and a prominent Rechabito M.P. was also not long ago rejected. Miss Tennant, who lives with her brother in a comfortable house in Richmond terrace, Whitehall (next to Lord Onslow’s town residence and within three minutes’ walk of Westminster and Downing street), numbers amongst her friends Mr Gladstone and most of the remarkable men of tho day. She is present at all the functions in honor of tho returned hero to which ladies arc admitted.

STANLEY’S HOOK. Mr Stanley finished revising the final proofs of ‘ln Darkest Africa ’ on Monday last, and the work is now announced for publication on June 10. The first English edition will consist of 2,000 copies, which is of course an unusually large one for so expensive a hook. Mudie and Smith will between them absorb three parts of this issue, and collectors of first editions are certain to he well on the spot. Copies of the first edition of Stanley’s ‘ How I Found Livingstone ’ are already worth double the published price. The second and all subsequent editions of the new book (in library form) will bo 2,000 copies apiece also, In America a firm of unprincipled pirates are advertising a spurious farrago called ‘ Heroes of the Dark Continent,’ as containing tho whole of Stanley’s work, and much besides. Should this fraudulent publication reach the Antipodes on no account buy it. Stanley’s idea. Stanley has a pet scheme on hand which he airs on every opportunity now, and for which the money will almost certainly be found. It is to transplant negroes from the Southern States of America to the Upper Congo, the climate of which is healthy, and which resembles Arkansas and Louisiana, without their swamps. Anything could be grown there, he says, from oranges, sugar cane, and cotton to the wheat of California and rice of South Carolina.

THE NEWTON CASE. Mr Newton, the Police Court solicitor whose questionable doings in connection with the Cleveland street scandals seemed likely at one time to get him into very serious trouble, has escaped well-nigh scatheless. The so-called trial last Friday amounted to little more than a farce. Tho serious charges were incontinently withdrawn, and Sir C. Russell pleaded guilty to the lesser ones. It was, he said, no doubt the case that in order to defend his clients from tho blackmailer Hammond, Mr Newton had assisted that ineffable scoundrel to escape, and so brought himself within reach of the law. He would only point out that Mr Newton had no personal end to serve in acting as he had. It was simply excess of zeal in a client’s cause which had led to the difficulty. The Attorney-General, for the Crown, accepted these explanations in a most friendly spirit, and Mr Justice Cave was finally left to adminster nominal punishment. His Lordship postponed judgment till Tuesday. Mr Newton is one of the sharpest and ablest solicitors practising at the Police Courts. He has on more than one occasion managed ticklish cases with rare tact and judgment. This time, however, when tho proceedings at Marlborough street closed the general impression was the man had done for himself. He told his friends confidently that it would bo all right ; but he looked tho reverse of comfortable. On Tuesday, when Mr Newton came up for judgment, it soon appeared that Mr Justice Cave was in anything but a lenient mood. He altogether pooh-poohed the trap de zele excuse, and indulged in sundry biting sarcasms at the expense of the AttorneyGeneral, whose facile concurrence in Sir Charles Russell’s lame explanations he professed himself entirely unable to understand. Reverting to the Police Court evidence (which counsel had judiciously ignored), the learned Judge showed up the case against Newton in all its ugly Then, stating that a fine would be no punishment, as the peccant solicitor’s aristocratic employers would of course pay it, he sentenced the defendant to six weeks’ imprisonment. Whetherwe hear “the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth ” about the smart folk involved in the scandals will now depend on whether Mr Newton is struck off the rolls. His clients were successful apparently in persuading the Crown not to press the case against him. What they didn’t reckon upon was bucking up against an honest, independent Jadge.

THE QUEEN AND THE CAKON.^ Canon Liddon has refused the bishopric of St. Albans without giving any reasons. As, however, the rev, gentleman is perfectly well aware of the Queen’s prejudice against him, one need not seek for his motive. Truth to tell, there is considerable excuse for Her Majesty’s attitude. On the sole occasion Dr Liddon preached at

Windsor he committed the inexcusable error of taste of turning to the Queen and addressing her personally. Conceive what you would suffer if a strange clergyman were to single you out for admonition before a large congregation, and you will realise e Queen’s anger and embarrassment, sno always held afterwards that a churchman capable of such a glaring betise was unht to fill a bishopric, and till recently, whenever the canon’s name was suggested. Her Majesty ruled it out. Lady Ely has the credit of modifying the Royal displeasure, She persuaded the Queen to read some of the canon’s sermons, or rather had them read to her without the l l9 ‘ oner knowing (till afterwards) whose they were. As°™ g sult, the Q«T Lord Salisbury that she had M P te ™ against Dr Liddon,” and the See of b - Albans was offered the popular preaohoi. By the way, an admirable ot some of the worthy canon’s finest disconr been published, in two volumes (2s ba eacn), in the Contemporary Pulpit Lib a, . Volume 1 is already in a fourth edition.

theatrical notes. The ridiculous Gilbert and Sullivan quarrel affords Dagonet an opportunity for a neat jokelet. “ Sir Arthur’s name, he remarks, “suggests Irish descent. Perhaps that accounts for his putting the Car-e befoi _ the G, The Carte and the Van remain ana it is the G who trots off merrily whisking his tail and neighing. I think I can KCJ y< 1 (Cellier) after all.” , ... Jesting apart, there can be small aoubt that Gilbert has behaved with characteristic bad temper and obstinacy in this matter. The original dispute with Mr Carte was o! a most trivial description— something to co with the purchase of a couple of carpets for the No. 2 Gondoliers Company now tonring in the provinces. At first D Oyley Carte was inclined, as usual, to laugh and give way, but he reflected that he and Sir Arthur were nowadays always laughing and giving way to the autocratic Gilbert both in large and small concerns, and that, in fact, their particr’s tyranny had become altogether unbearable. He con - sequently made a stand. Gilbert was furious. The friendship and alliance in long years went overboard in a moment. He threatened to unmake Carte as he had 'na'lc him, and said other nice things. Sir Arthur Sullivan, on being appealed to, declined *0 mix himself up in the quarrel, and Gilbert thereupon excommunicated him also. D this had been all, people would not have said much, but there is a general feeling that iu at once opening negotiations with the opposition shop (as the Prince of VS ales s Theatre must be considered) Mr Gilbert acted meanly. George R. Sims and Robert Buchanan are busy writing the new melodrama for the Aclelphi. It will bo in four acts, and deal with modern Irish life. Leonard Boyne has been engaged to succeed Terries and Alexander as hero, and Miss Oiga Brandon wul be heroine. Miss Brandon, I may mention, is just now the most run-after young actress in Loudon. She had simultaneous offers from Willard, Haro, Bocrbohm-Trce, am. the Gattis. At the Adelphi she will receive LSO a week. Not bad for a debutante with barely eighteen months’ experience. The three vagrants with bears, whom the Queen stopped in Windsor Park a fortnight ago, and ordered to perform before her, are now earning L 45 a week at the London, music halls. They had had a par.-ienlai Iv unlucky day on the evening that “an old lady iu a carriage with two others " pulled up alongside the little party iu the Park. “ We were beginning our show without much spirit,” said the eider German, “ when the footman he comes and says ‘ It is the Queen ; do your beat.’ Then believe me we. did. Her Majesty smiled often, and asked many questions through the. long Scotchman. At last the Scotchman gave ns a sovereign, and the carriage drove on.” The full significance of this incident doesn’t appear to have dawned on the bear men HU next morning’s papers made it public. Then reporters and music-hall managers swooped down upon the “ Three Royal Bears ’ (as they arc now called), ami their owners are able to look forward to earning a comfortable living

for many yearn to come. ‘The Red Hussar’ was withdrawn from the Lyric Theatre on Saturday, The house will not reopen till September, when Mr Seclger {vice, Leslie deposed) produces an English version of Audran’s‘La Cigale efc la Fourmi.’ the libretto translated by Mr “ Punch ” Burnand; Gilbert and Collier’s first attempt to follow. Sir Arthur Sullivan’s grand opera for Mr Carte’s new theatre is on the subject of ‘lvanhoe.’ The so-called French Exhibition at Itarlscourt is merely the old Italian and American barrack, sparsely fitted with one or two aggressively English stalls. The opening ceremony on Saturday was a “ frost,” rave in one particular, the luncheon, which ready did do credit to the “ covdou bleu from Biguon’s.” ‘ April Showers ’ has not enught on in tho evening at tho Comedy Theatre, and on Saturday a new piece entitled ‘ The Queen’s Counsel,’ by James Mortimer, is to take its place.

Mrs Bancroft’s muoh-talked-of two-act play, ‘ A Riverside Story,’ will be acted today at tho Haymarket Theatre, which is sure to be crowded from floor to ceiling.

The opera season at Covont Garden commenced on Monday evening with ‘ Faust,’ in which the De Reske Brothers, Madame Scalchi, and a new soprano, Madame Nuovina, appeared. Jean De Reski'-’a voice is as beautiful as ever. LITEBAKY NOTES. The ‘Journal of Marie Bv-mUirtscll, which 1 have once or twice mentioned to you, is, in Mr Gladstone’s opinion,the most remarkable book of the age —indeed (he says), I might go further and call it epoch-making.” Mrs Oliphant appears likewise to be much struck with it. “No one,” the lady write?, “ can lay down without emotion the pages of this diary, in which a human soul lias voluntarily laid its very inmost fibres bare before us.”

The ‘ Saturday Review’ waxes enthusiastic on the subject of ‘ Acte,' by Hugh Wcstbury, which it pronounces tho best historical novel since ‘ The Last Days of Pompeii.’ The scene is laid in ancient Rome, .and the story is thoroughly interesting. The author has seized in an almost remarkable way on tho leading features of that strange time, and the attitude of the old world towards various questions of morality. He has knowm how far to go in many directions, and never wearies his readers. “ Hugh Westbury” is the pseudonym of a wellknown Liverpool journalist, named Farrie, who was for a long time on the local 1 Post,’ and now edits ‘ Porcupine,' Amongst new, cheap editions may be mentioned ‘Ardath,’ by Marie Corelli, at Gs ; ‘ A Late Remorse,’ by “ The Duchess,” at 3s 6d ; and ‘Jacquetta,’ etc., by Baring Gould. Macmillans have become tho great Kipling’s publishers in this country, and will reproduce * Plain Tales from the Hills ’ forthwith in their English and Colonial Library at 3s fid instead of (as now) Os. Mr Rider Haggard’s ‘ Beatrice ’ is an unwholesome, unpleasant, and rather dull story of the same sort as ‘ Dawn ’ and ‘Colonel Quaritch.’ Beatrice Granger, the daughter of a pauper clergyman in Wales, saves the life of Geoffrey Bingham, a young barrister, unhappily married to a coldblooded aristocratic money-loving wife. The first-named pair are thrown much together and fall in love with one another in a lofty, ethereal, strictly moral manner. Unfortunately, Beatrice has another lover, a rich lout named Owen Davies, who views the high-souled Geoffrey’s amour with furious jealousy and passionate indignation. There is also an amiable elder sister, one Elizabeth Granger, who hates Beatrice for her beauty, and longs to ruin her. Neither of this pair can, however, do mischief, till Beatrice gives herself over to the Philistines by walking in her sleep and entering Geoffrey’s bedroom in the middle of the night. The story leaks out. Elizabeth pretends to believe the worst, and informs both Geoffrey’s wife and Owen Davies of the equivocal circumstances. Davies then threatens to publish the story far and wide, and to ruin both Geoffrey and Beatrice unless tho latter (whom he fully believes to have been: Geoffrey’s mistress) promises to become his wife. Beatrice asks for a week’s grace to consider the situation. She loathes Davies inexpressibly, and finally resolves the Gordian knot can only be cut by her suicide. 1 Almost at the moment the unhappy girl oommite this crime Geoffrey’s wife is burn® to death at a ball. Thus ends the edifying ; tale.