A potterer, Sir, he was by trade,
A Party Potterer, much respected,
And every year, when Spring appeared,
The yellow blooms, to bards endeared,
In swarms by PETER were collected.
He roved among the vales and streams,
In the green wood and hollow dell,
And, upon April's nineteenth day,
Big buttonholers made display
Upon the heart of PETER BELL.
In vain through each succeeding year
Did Nature mourn her lessening store.
A Primrose on the river's brim
A Party emblem was to him,
And it was nothing more!
* * * * *
DISINFECTING THE WIGS.--"_L'Enfant Prodigue_," which is filling
the Prince of Wales's Theatre day and night, has much in it that is
delightful. Perhaps there is nothing quite excels the subtle touch in
the programme where it is written: "The theatre is disinfected by the
Sanitas Company, Limited. _The Wigs by Clarkson_."
* * * * *
CURIOUS, AND "MORE ANON!"--The _Evelyn_ v. _Hurlbert_ trial was as
full of literary interest as a sale of old books and manuscripts.
Specially valuable were copies of _Evelyn's Diary_; while, in spite
of the pressing demand, _Murray's Memoirs_ were uncommonly scarce.
Victorious Mr. HURLBERT! Yet for all his triumph, he will be, for some
time, a "very much Murray'd man."
* * * * *
A SAVOY QUESTION.--The general idea of the forthcoming new Opera at
the Savoy appears to be "all Dance to SOLOMON's music." Is it to be
a pantomime-drama, like _L'Enfant Prodigue_, or simply a ballet? If
neither, where do song-words and dialogue come in?
* * * * *