DEAR MR. PUNCH,--After _The Cotter's Saturday Night_, which is a fine
broad Scotch setting of Rantin' Roarin' Robbie's poem, came _The Dream
of Jubal_. This, as I take it, was a work produced in the Jubalee Year.
I don't know who JUBAL was, at least I've only a vague idea.
Rather think he was a partner of TUBAL. TUBAL, JUBAL & CO., Instrument
Makers. From this Oratorio I gather that JUBAL was an enthusiastic
amateur, but that the only musical instrument he possessed was a
tortoise-shell,--whether comb or simple shell I couldn't quite make out.
However, comb or shell, he worked hard at it, until one morning, when he
was practising outside the house (I expect TUBAL & CO. wouldn't stand
much of it indoors), the birds started a concert in opposition to his
solo. This quite drowned his feeble notes, and drove him half frantic.
In despair he lay down under the shade of a tree and fell asleep, and in
his dreams he saw the instrument which he had invented gradually
developed into a "Strad", and from that into the most glorious
instrument of our time; namely, the banjo. This so soothed and pleased
him, that, waking up, he adorned his tortoise-shell with flowers, and
sang aloud to all his descendants in all time and tune, and out of all
time and tune, if necessary, to join him in praising the invention of
Music generally, and of this Jubalee instrument in particular.
Mr. JOSEPH BENNETT has given a most effective description of the dream;
the accompanied recitation being very fine indeed, and splendidly
performed by Miss JULIA NEILSON, who, like JUBAL, has been in the Tree's
Shadow at the Haymarket. Fine triumphal march and chorus. Your own
MAGGIE MCINTYRE, and your Mr. BARTON McGUCKIN, were in excellent form,
and everybody was delighted, with the exception of one person,--who is
always _à peu près_, never quite satisfied, and therefore rightly named,
"ALL-BUT HALL, S.W."
* * * * *
"HARLOWE THERE!"--This now familiar exclamation might be appropriately
adopted as the motto of the Vaudeville Theatre during the run of
_Clarissa_. She does run, too, poor dear--first from home, then from
_Lovelace's_, and then "anywhere, anywhere, out of the world!" By the
way, is it quite fair of Mr. THOMAS THORNE, in the absence of a friend
and brother comedian, to speak of himself, as he does in this piece, as
"a mere Toole"? How can such a metamorphosis have taken place? We trust
that Mr. THOMAS THORNE, Temporary Tragedian, will amend his sentiments.
* * * * *
SIR W. V. HARCOURT, on the night when he was so huffy, "left the House."
True: he certainly did not "carry the House with him."
* * * * *