Punch (98.1890)

Mat 17, 1890.] PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHAEIVARI.

229

ALL IN PLAY.

My Dear Editor,—Whilst you were feasting in
Burlington House amongst the Pictures and the
Royal Academicians, I was seated in the Stalls of the
St. James's Theatre, lost in astonishment (certainly
not in admiration, although of old the two words
had the same meaning), at the antics of a minority
of the Gallery, who amused themselves by shout-
ing themselves hoarse before the performances
commenced; but not satisfied with this, they con-
tinued their shrieking further: they howled at
the overture of the first piece, they jeered at the
scene, they yelled at the actors. However, as it
happened, The Tiger had been already successfully
played on two occasions last year, so a verdict was
not required at their hands. Had Mr. Solomon,
the composer, conducted, he would have taken The
Tiger away, and left the howlers to their howling.
Since Saturday the piece has, I am informed,
" gone " with what the Americans call a " snap."
The music is charming. Mr. Charles Colnaghi
made his bow as a professional, and played and sang
excellently, as did also Mr. J. G. Taylor, in spite
of the riotous conduct of the " unfriendlies."

Then came Esther Sandraz. Mrs. Langtry
looked lovely, and played with great power; but
what an unpleasant part! Until the end of the
First Act all was right. The sympathy was with
the heroine of the hour, or, rather, two hours and

A CHANGE.

From a Fasting Man to a Sandwich
Man. Useful to Advertisers.

OUR ADVERTISERS.

A New Departure, or the '' Give-' em-a-hand-all-
round" Wrinkle.

ROYAL QUARTPOTARIUM.-The Re-
nowned World Fasting Champion, who
is dressed in a Ready-made Suit of Tweed Dittos
(38s.) supplied by Messrs. Levi, Solomans & Co.,
of 293, Houndsditch, and is

SEATED ON THE GENT'S EAST LOUNGE
CHAIR, forming one of the articles of the
highly-upholstered dining-room set (as advertised)
by Messrs. Glubbins, Knicxerbockee & Co., oi
Tottenham Court Road, where at any hour he can

be seen

SIPPING ALTERNATELY FROM TWO
LARGE CUT-GLASS TUMBLERS, fur-
nished by Messrs. Wagbittee and Groans, oi
New Oxford Street,__

BLINKER'S CONCENTRATED COD-
LIYER EMULSION MELTED FATS
(57s. the dozen pints, bottles included), and

SPARKLING SINGULARIS WATER, bottled
in nine-gallon flagons by the Company at
their extensive works in the Isle of Dogs, with
which, to the satisfaction of his friends, he suc-
ceeds in washing down, in turns, hourly,_

► INNACLE'S CONDENSED DIGESTIVE

Q IDES, BREASTS, FORE-QUARTERS, SADDLES, and Entire
O Whole oe Hale-Sheep of prime Bolivian Mutton deli-
vered daily by the Company's carts, from their own Refrigerators;

WINKER'S INVALID INFANT'S PICK-ME-UP CORDIAL
—(Winkee & Co., the Manufactory, Hoxton-on-Sea) ;

TINNED AMERICAN OYSTERS. Fine Selected Thirds.
Guaranteed by the Blue-Point Company, Wriggleville, lexas,
U.S.A. ; and

a hSTbut whTn it was¥s™7ered 'ZrtMhZ I_Man. UsefuL to Advertisers. , TWNACLE'SI TOM JOT

loved but for revenge, and wished to bring sorrow JD BOILED PORK LOZENGES, supplied by

and shame upon the fair head of Miss Marion Lea, then the senti- all respectable Chemists throughout the United Kingdom, m Is. M.,
ments of the audience underwent a rapid change. Everyone would | 3s. 9rf., 13s. 3d., 27s. 6d., and 105s. Boxes;
have been pleased if Mr. Sugden had shot himself in Act II.; nay,
some of us would not have complained if he had died in Act I.,
but the cat-and-mouse-like torture inflicted upon him by Esther
was the reverse of agreeable. Mr. Sugden was only a "Johnnie,"
but still" Johnnies " have feelings like the rest of us. Mr. Bourchier
was rather hard as a good young man who does not die, and Mr.
Everill (steady old stager) kept everything well together. If the
play keeps the boards for any length of time, it will be, thanks to
the power of Mrs. Langtey, the natural pathos of Miss Marion
Lea, and the unforced comedy of Mr. Eveeill.

On Monday Miss Gbace Hawthoene produced Theodora at the
Princess's Theatre with some success. It cannot be said, however,
that Mile. Sara Beenhardt has at length found her rival, but,
for all that, the heroine of the moment might have been worse.
" Sardou's masterpiece " (as the programmes have it) was very well
staged. The scenery and costumes were excellent, and great relief
was afforded to the more tragic tones of the play by entrusting the
heavy part of Andreas to Mr. Leonard Boyne, who is a thorough
artist, with just the least taste in life of the brogue that savours
more of the Milesian Drama. Mr. W. H. Vernon was the
Justinian, of the evening, and looked the Lawgiver to the life;
although I am not quite sure whether a half-concealed moustache
was quite the fashion in the days of the Empire. Mr. Robert
Uuchanan, the adapter of " the masterpiece," introduced several
nineteenth cfintn-rxr 0-^.0.01^. t« "'l^-ma

description of "a merry
little mill, in the language of the sporting Press. No doubt,
the length of the performances was the reason why so racy a narrative
was omitted. For the rest, there are some thirty speaking parts—a
good, allowance for a play consisting of six Acts and seven Tableaux.
A Masterpiece" (m English) is better than a feast, for it is enough
—for a lifetime. Believe me, yours faithfully,

One who has taken a Double "First."

A Stirring Pole.—A more stirring pianist than Paberewski, who
played on Friday afternoon at St. James's Hall for the first time in
England, has never been heard. The report that he is a Polonised
Irishman needs confirmation. The name is suspicious. But there
are no sound reasons for supposing that the first two syllables of
Paderewski's name are simply a corruption of the Hibernian
"Paddy." _

Classic Motto eoe those who Sell as the Genuine Article
Tea undee a False Beand.—" Nomine mutato falula narratur
de Tea."

Mrs. R. wants to know if she can ascertain all about the Law of
Libel, &c, in the works which she contemplates purchasing of
Walter Savage Slandoe.

ZWINGERINE, the new marvellous nerve and tone-restoring,
and muscle, bone, and fat-producing agency, each teaspoon-
ful of which contains, in a highly-concentrated form, three bottles
of port wine, soup, fish, cut off the joint, two entrees, sweet, cheese,
and celery, as testified to by a public analyst of standing and repute.
Agents, Glum & Co, Seven Dials.

THE FASTING CHAMPION continues to receive visitors as
above from 6 a.m. to 11 p.m. daily, and may be inspected,
watched, stared at, pinched, questioned, and examined generally, by
his admiring friends, the British Public, in his private sanctum at
the Royal Quartpotarium, till further notice.

IN THE KNOW—(By Mr. Punch's Own Prophet.)

Cardinal Richelieu once observed to Madame de St. Galmier,
that if Kings could but know the folly of their subjects they would
hesitate at nothing. Mr. Jeremy evidently knows thoroughly how
stupendously cabbage-headed his readers are, for he never hesitates
to put forward the most astounding and muddy-minded theories.
For instance, he asks us this week to believe that Saladin ought to
have won the Shropshire Handicap, because he was known to be a
better horse, from two miles up to fifty, than the four other horses
who faced the starter. If this stuff had been _ addressed to an
audience of moon-calves and mock-turtles it might have passed
muster, but, thank Heaven, we are not all quite so low as that yet.
Let me therefore tell Mr. Jeremy, that when a horse like Saladin,
whose back-bone is like the Himalaya mountains, and his pastern
joints like a bottle-nosed whale with a cold in his head, comes to
the post with two stone and a beating to his credit, and four hoofs
about the size of a soup-tureen to his legs, he can never be expected
to get the better of slow roarers like Carmichael and Bushy, to say
nothing of Whatnot and Pumblechook. It is well known, of course,
that the latter has been in hard training for a month, and a better
horse at cornbin or bran-mash never stepped. Saladin won, I know,
but it was for reasons very different from those given by Mr. Jeremy.

There is nothing new about the Derby horses. I believe they are
mostly in training, but I reserve my opinion until I see what the
addle-pates who own them mean to do.

"A self-made Man," said Mrs. R., thoughtfully, "is the
artichoke of his own fortunes."

voi. xovm.

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