DRAMATIC GOSSIP.

Lyttelton Times, Volume LXXX, Issue 10211, 4 December 1893, Page 2

DRAMATIC GOSSIP.

’ Lomron, Oct. 7. Your old acquaintance, Alice Lingard (who is nob ao stout: as sho was a year or two bach) is touring in the provinces with A Woman of No Importance, in which she plays tho title role crepted by “ JBstnie ” iiciero. Miss Frances Koar, who is now a member of Daly's Company at the American manager's new theatre in Leicester Square, undoubtedly deserves the designation _of " tho pretty young New Zealander,” which the Broca has unanimously bestowed on her. I saw Miss Boss as Mrs Tremotib in Dollars and Sense, la; t Saturday afternoon. She had not a great; deal to do except wear pretty dresses, and look “charmin', quite charmin',” but she vraa an unmistakable success. On their way to San Pmnekeo, Mr Irving, Mi a a Terry find party slopped at the mountain resort of Banff. An American comedy company happened to he playing at the litclo theatre, hut 'so anxious were tho populace to i-ee the English actor and actress that the house was deserted. Ho sooner did. Mr Irving learn, this than to the theatre he and Miss Terry betook themselves. The populace followed en masse , and is twenty minutes the American hictriona rejoiced in the largest audience of the see son. “And Vg all our wery own,” is the refrain of Albert Chevalier’s new eong, “ The Nipper's Lullaby,” with which, on Sept. 25, ha created a genuine furore at the four London Music Hallo at which the ideal coster now performs. The lullaby is sung over a cradle, which is supposed to contain the offspring of tho renounce! 'Awkins and hie Lizer. The first three varsea deal with peculiarities common to all babies, such as dining “ orf nails and matches ” and saying “ sioh things—ire wonderful 'ow they all come into 'is esd ”; but the concluding verses are the best:— He’s got a narsty temper “ Like’ie dad” ’is mammy

sez, And wotevor ’es a likin’ for that little warmint ’as ; He’s the ortiest of eurocrats wot sits upon a

throne. For ho does jest wot ’e hloomin likes —and ’e’s all our wery own.

’E’s got’is little failin’s—which they’re spreadin’

_ ’ every day, He’s a terror, and no error, when ’e doesn’t nve ’is

way; But there ’aiut a nipper like 'im—such a kid was

never grown. He’s the champion of tho light weights—and ’e’s all our wery own. The words of this lullaby are set to a pret'y melody, but it's extraordinary success was due as much as anything to the singer's smile of the fatuous parent crowing over his first-born, and to the world of pride and wonder and infinite tenderness which Mr Chevalier manages to convey in the refrain “ And 'ea all our wery own.”

Miss Jenny Hill, who starts for a tour of tho Australian Coloniea at tho end of the year, is one of the big “ draws ” of tho Variety stage. Sho possesses a style peculiarly her own, and a power of ‘■‘patter,” unequalled save perhaps by Bessie Bellwood. Mias Hill’s songs have nob, however, the high flavour of the renowned Orkintrooler's. She is, besides being an admirable exponent of low-class cockneydom, a dramatic actress capable of considerable pathos, and certain of her sketches, such as “ The Stowaway,” move even hardy and ribald music-hall audiences. Miss Hill came to the front with & song called “ 'Arry ”in 1832, and haa grown steadily in popularity ever since. Last year, after a season in New York at a week, she had a serious illness, cud only returned to the boards a few weeks ago. Her chief song just now deals with the merits of “ Good Old London Bill.” Miss Hill is a middle-aged married woman with a family. Her daughter, Peggy Bryde, haa been some time on the stage, and is just now entrancing the metropolitan halls with an American ditty called “ Push dem Ciouds Away.” Luscombe SearoJle has engaged Miss Hill to break her journey to Australia at the Cape and taka in Johqnnesburg. As the terms are big and include a benefit, she will probably do eo.

The death of Mr David James takes the writer's memory back twenty-four long years to the little Prince of W.v’cT Theatre in Clayton square, Liverpool, and to a visit which the then famous Btr&iid Theatre Company paid the “ good old town.” The - piece, I remember, was a classical burlesque by Byron, called Ino, and it was tried for the first time oa a provincial audience prior to bring produced at Mrs Swanborough's popular house. David James, as a henpecked husband, was to my youthful eyes screamingly funny. His part brimmed with allusions to Boucicaull’s Formosa, then a succds de scandale. Ladies of flexible ethics ware unknown on the stage c£ those days. We all expressed horror at such persons being brought to our knowledge and —went to Druiy Lane. Next time I saw Mr James (all his friends called him Davy) was us Tweodio in Alberry'a Tweedie’s Rights, and Our Mr Jenkins in Two Boses . The latter always one of tho best parts. After George Honey's death David dsmes succeeded to the roles of Ecclei in Caste and Graves in Money , and played them in numerous revivals in London. Ho was, of course, the one and only Pcrkyn MiddieWick in Our Boys for English aadiaaces. In Australia the iaie Frederick Marshall was quite as good.' David James made a large fortune cat of Our Boys, taking it (after separating from bio partner, Thorne) for provincial tour after provincial tour. His • real name was Belasco, and lie came of Jewish (Portuguese) parentage, though there was nothing the least Hebraic in hia appearance. He acted for the last time in Miss Dccima, at tha Criterion, about eighteen months ago. Iu private life amongst his fellow “ pros ” Davy Jamos was not merely liked bnt beloved. Generous to a fault, he could always he relied on to help the sick and needy, and no hard-up actor ever appealed to him in vain. As managers of ’ tho Vaudeville Theatre, Davy James and Tom Thorne were bosom friends till the reverses following oa tho run of Our Boys kd to differences. Jemes then retired from the partnership, predicting accurately enough, Thorne would lose all the money he had made out of Our Boys, James not merely kept bis share, but trebled it in tuo Provinces, besides earning large sums acting in London. At the Gaiety, Lyceum and Criterion his salary never fell below J!o0 a week.