The fourth act exhibits one of the scenes of human life hitherto veiled from the eyes of the most prying—­a genuine specimen of the sponge species—­at home!  Actually living under a roof that he calls his own; in company with a wife who is certainly nobody else’s.  She is ironing—­Tarradiddle is smoking, and, like all smokers, philosophising.  Here we learn the Honourable Charles Norwold and his wife have taken lodgings; hither they are pursued by Hilary, who has managed to ingratiate himself with Warner, and undertaken to trace the merchant’s lost daughter; here, to Pye’s astonishment, he finds his friend and sponge.  Some banter ensues, not always agreeable to the Captain, but all ends very pleasantly by the entrance of Warner, who discovers his daughter, and becomes a father-in-law with a good grace.

The denouement is soon told:—­Warner, having received his daughter and her husband, gives a party at which Lady, and afterwards Lord Norwold, are present.  Here Warner’s anxiety to obtain the bracelet is explained.  He reminds his lordship that he once accused his elder brother of stealing that very bauble; and the consequence was, that the accused disappeared, and was never after heard of. Warner avows himself to be that brother, but declines disturbing the rights or property of his lordship, if he will again receive his son.  This is, of course, done. Hilary jokes himself into Miss Mayley’s good graces, and Tarradiddle, in all the glories of a brown coat, and an outrageously fine waistcoat, enters to make the scene complete, and to help to speak the tag, in which all the characters have a hand; Mrs. Glover ending by making a propitiatory appeal to the audience in favour of the author, who ought to be very grateful to her for the captivating tones in which she asked for an affirmative answer to the question—­

  “What will the world say?”

Circumstances prevent us from giving any opinion whatever, except upon the scenery, the appointments, and the acting.  The first is beautiful—­the second appropriate and splendid—­the last natural, pointed, and in good taste.

* * * * *

SIBTHORPIANA.

A clergyman was explaining to the gallant officer the meaning of the phrase “born again;” but it was quite unintelligible to Sib., who remarked that he knew no one who could bear him even once.

“Do you read the notice to correspondents in PUNCH?” quoth Sib.—­“I do,” replied Hardinge, “and I wonder people should send them such trash.”—­“Pooh!” retorted the punster—­“Pooh! you know that wherever PUNCH is to be found, there are always plenty of spoons after it.”

“It’s a wonder you’re not drunk,” said Sibthorp to Wieland—­“a great wonder, because—­do you give it up?—­Because you’re a tumbler full of spirits.”