If ever this message should find you,
I think that perhaps you will guess
Who sent it, in hopes to remind you
Of one who has not your address,
And who if he had dare not use it,
The chaperon's eye to offend.
ALTHEA, yet do not refuse it,
The humble good wish of a friend!
To give you a New Year's greeting,
Explain, what I cannot explain,
How your look, at our very last meeting,
Is photographed firm on my brain.
Without you, I'm twenty years older;
And yet I'm glad you're away.
For each day it grows darker and colder,
The sky is a smoky brown-grey.
ALTHEA--I am weary of winter
Without you! The fogs never clear.
My missive I send to the printer
To tell you how dull it is here.
I hope you are faring far better,
I trust, as I bid you adieu,
That you may divine that this letter
Is really intended for you!
* * * * *
"RICHARD HIMSELF AGAIN."
"Return again _Whittington_, Pantomime of London" were the words to
the chimes that on or about Boxing Day must have been ringing in the
ears of Mr. Ex-Sheriff HARRIS, Knight, and spectacle maker from morn
to dawn. This is not the first time that our own DRURIOLANUS has
chosen the intermittent Lord Mayor (for did not _Dick_ pass the chair
thrice?) as the subject for his annual. That he has been wise in
making the selection has been proved by the result. Sir AUGUSTUS (with
the assistance of his literary colleagues, Messrs. H. HAMILTON and
WALTER RALEIGH; and his chief of the staff, Mr. ARTHUR COLLINS) has
beaten his own record. Nothing better than the present show has been
seen at Drury Lane within the recollection of the existing generation.
And it is highly probable that the memory of man does not, anent times
past, run to the contrary.
[Illustration: "Listening to the Belles."]
The ex-sheriff has begun a new lease of the old house, and seemingly
has taken the success he has so long established on the premises as
one of the fixtures. A most excellent commencement to a contract that
should be highly satisfactory to both manager and public.
[Illustration: "Haul by the Sea."]
So much for pantomimic things in general, and now to turn to details
in particular. The book of the words is decidedly a superior article.
Hitherto when the Drury Lane Annual has contained a fault the mistake
has been discovered in "the cackle." On former occasions it has been
said (by the dyspeptic and consequently disappointed) that "the
turns of the halls" have been too numerous. Those excellent comedians
Messrs. DAN LENO and HERBERT CAMPBELL have sometimes been a little too
much in evidence to suit every taste. In 1894-95 they have plenty to
do, but only enough to satisfy the most fastidious. They are quite
as amusing as usual, and when the curtain falls before "the
transformation" people are rather inclined to ask for more than to
say that they have had quite enough. This is the token of a good sign.
Then the Brothers GRIFFITHS are particularly pleasing. That member of
the brethren who plays the cat is at once comic and pathetic. He makes
_Malkin_ quite a loveable character. Then Miss ADA BLANCHE, as _Dick_,
is altogether a hero of romance. She may sing the old songs of the
halls, but she tempers her comic vocalism with a touch of sentiment
that makes the whole world kin after it has had its grin. Miss
MARIE MONTROSE, too, is winsome, and so are Misses AGNES HEWITT, EVA
WESTLAKE, and MADGE LUCAS. In fact, the opening is well played by
"all concerned." It is a wonder that, after the first innings of
the morning performance, they should have scored so heavily in
the evening's representation. But score they do, and are likely to
"continue the movement" until Easter.
The scenery must be seen. It baffles description. Who could paint
the sun? Who could report the wonders of the solar system? A first
impressionist would declare that the gorgeous production of colour,
light, and form, could only be adequately suggested by the word
"HARRIS." So the entire audience thought on Boxing Night. Let it be
known that after the wonderful "Feast of Lanterns" Scene, Sir AUGUSTUS
was called to the front three or four times, and might have "gone on"
indefinitely so far as the house was concerned. Indeed, the enthusiasm
showed no sign of diminution when the lessee had made his exit. Still
the Gallery called for "'ARRIS!" still the Stalls expressed their
opinion by the gentle tapping of well-gloved hands. Nay more, there
were members of the superior classes who not only rapped out their
applause, but roared with laughter. From first to last, thanks to a
thoroughly appreciative (and yet discriminating) audience, the play
went admirably.
[Illustration: "Cook and Gaze."]
So the bells will ring for _Whittington_ for a long time to come. And
where the belles are there will be found the beaux. To continue the
association of ideas, the shot of Sir AUGUSTUS has ended in a hit. It
does not take a prophet to predict that _Dick_ will not only be the
centre of numberless _matinées_, but the hero of at least a hundred
nights. _Dick_ will listen to his bells until Easter changes the
music.
* * * * *