the same thing as “awarding a palm”—­to its old friend, HARRY PAYNE, who, with TULLY LEWIS as Pantaloon, has pulled himself together, and given us a good quarter of an hour of genuine Old English Pantomime, compared with which the other, though its fooling is excellent in its own way, is only comic ballet d’action after the style of Fun in a Fog.  I think that was the title, but am not sure, of the gambols with which the MARTINETTI troupe used to entertain us.  The new and improved style of ballet-dancing introduced by the now celebrated pas de quatre at the Gaiety, is charming, as here and now represented by Miss MABEL LOVE and her graceful companions.

[Illustration:  “‘Fin de siecle’ Clown!  Why I’ve seen that sort o’ thing done years ago, when I was a boy!”]

To sum up; as the inspired poet of the immortal ode on Guy Fawkes’ Day saw no reason why that particular treason should ever be forgot, so I, but uninspired, and only mortal, am unable to ascertain the existence of any objection to the opinion that this Pantomime possesses staying power sufficient to carry itself on for an extra long run of several months over Easter, and, maybe, up to Whitsuntide.  There is but one DRURIOLANUS, and the Pantomime is his Profit!  The two authors have achieved what “all the King’s horses and all the King’s men” (not of Cambridge, of course) could not effect!—­they have set Humpty-Dumpty on his legs again!  And so congratulations to “all concerned”!  And, without prejudice to Sir DRURIOLANUS,

I beg to sign myself, THE OTHER KNIGHT.

* * * * *

THE LAY OF THE ANALYTIC NOVELIST.

    ["It is not the patent, obvious results of the inner working
    of mind on which the modern novelist dwells, it is on that
    inner working itself.”—­Daily Chronicle.]

  That odd barrel-organ, the human mind,
    I love to explore; ’tis the analyst’s lune;
  But if I can only contrive to find
  How the pipes will grunt, and the handle will grind,
    I don’t care a fig for the tune!

* * * * *

“HIT ONE OF YOUR OWN SIZE.”—­About the ups or downs of the Alexandra Palace, Mr. SHAW LEFEVRE shouldn’t have a row with a LITTLER, specially when the LITTLER, who if he, with his friends, take over the lease of the Alexandra themselves, will then be a Lessor, is pretty sure to get the best of the discussion.

* * * * *

BY A THOUGHTFUL PHILOSOPHER.—­Any remedy against London fogs must involve a grate change.

* * * * *

[Illustration:  A GREAT DRAWBACK.

Dougal (with all his native contempt for the Londoner).  “AYE, MON, AN’ HE’S NO A BAD SHOT?”

Davie. “‘DEED AN’ HE’S A VERRA GUID SHOT.”

Dougal.  “HECH!  IT’S AN AWFU’ PEETIE HE’S A LONDONER!”]