The duke and duchess next enter into a dialogue, the subject of which is one Wilhelm, a young standard-bearer, who appears; and having said a few words exits, that Ida, the duchess, might inform us, in a soliloquy, what we have already shrewdly suspected, namely—­that the ensign is her son; another presentiment comes into one’s mind, which one don’t think it fair to the author and his story to entertain till the proper time.  A sort of secret interview between the mother and son now takes place, which ends by the imprisonment of the latter; why is not explained at the moment; nor, indeed, till the next scene, when it is quite apparent; for if one sees an impregnable castle, rigidly guarded by supernumeraries, with an impassable river, bristling with chevaux-de-frise it is impossible to get over, and a moat that it would be death to cross, a prison-escape may be surely calculated upon.  In the present instance, this formulary is not omitted, for Wilhelm jumps into the river from a bridge which he has contrived to reach.  Though several shots are fired into the tank of water that represents the Rhine, there is no hissing; on the contrary, the second act ends amidst general applause; which indeed it deserves, for the scenery is magnificent.

“The Ancient Arch in the Black Forest,” is a sort of house of call for witches, and it being seen during their merry-making, or holiday, is rendered more picturesque by the Devil’s “Ha, ha!” The hospitable Zabaren entertains hundreds of witches, of all sorts and sizes, who dance all manner of country-dances, and sing a series of songs and choruses, in which the “Ha! ha!” is again conspicuously introduced.  It seems that German witches not only ride upon brooms, but sweep with them; and a company of supernatural Jack Rags perform sundry gyrations peculiarly interesting to housemaids.  After about an hour’s dancing, the witches being naturally “blown,” are just in cue for leaving off with an airy dance called the “witches’ whirlwind.”

This episode over, the plot goes on. Ottocar accuses Ida of infidelity with Wilhelm to the duke; she, in explanation, fulfils the presentiment we had some delicacy in hinting too soon—­that she is the wife of the man who was killed in the prologue; Rudolph having married her in ignorance of that fact, and by a coincidence which, though intensely melo-dramatic, every body foresees who has ever been three times to the Adelphi theatre.

To describe the last scene would be the height of presumption in PUNCH.  Nobody but “Satan” Montgomery, or the Adelphi play-bill, is equal to the task.  We quote, as preferable, the latter authority:—­“Grand inauguration of Wilhelm, the rightful heir.  CORAL CAVES and CRYSTAL STREAMS:  these are actually obtained by a HYDRO-SCENIC EFFECT!  As the usual area devoted to illusion becomes a reality!”

Besides all this, which simply means “real water,” there is a Neptune in a car drawn by three sea or ichthyological horses, having fins and web feet.  There is a devil that is seen through the whole piece, because he is supposed to be invisible (cleverly played by Mr. Wieland), and who having dived into the water, is fished out of it, and sent flying into the flies.  This sending a devil upward, is a new way of