This Broom is followed by a well-written introduction, or rather preceded by it by the Bishop of Corawall, His last paragraph reads: "So we thank Mr, Wilson Barrett for his work; his success seems to be ours, his success is the mother of plays that live and ideas of life that make men live." Needless to say with such a preface and such @ Proem, the book has at once been Iaunched into public favour. Mr. Barrett was enabled to secure terms aid compass larger first edition than falls to the lot of amateur novelists, for great as he is as ab actor and a writer of plays, surely he must be regarded in literature as practically an amateur in 6o far as novels go. However, he has written several clever short stories.
The Christmas season has so. crowded the theatre that again The Daughters of Babylon has been put off in favour of The Sign of the Cross.
THE state.
'The Pantémines have things' their own wey at this" season of the yule log, bub Sir' Henry Irving produced his long-expected Richard the Third last Savurday night to give his patrons a holiday treat in the way of Shakspeare. The play was produced in the most brilliant manner; acting, actors, scenic effects, all were; if possible, save for the absence of Miss Ellen Terry, ona more perfect scale than has get been known to the Lyceum stage. Sir Henry's Richard, like his Iachimo in Cymbeting, is an intellectual, rather than a robustuous villain, and afforded subject for thought to the scholarly playgosr, as do all Sir Henry's productions.
But, alas the play, Sir Henry met with an accident. He sprained his knee descending s spiral Churches are joyous with preparations for the Christmas carols, and' at midnight the "Waits" sing about the "streets in the older portions of London, the London that Dickens knew and loved. Returning froma dinner late, one evening last week, T aitived bya City Station. It was a full clear moonlit night. Fancy led me alittle out of my way. And there I came on the "Little Midshipnisin" 0 much tothe fore in Dombey and Son. It is in the Minories, in the heart of the City proper. I' fancied I saw the ghosts of Captain Cuttle, timid Mr. Toots, Florence Dombey, and old Sol' Gills, himself the proprietor of the 'Little Midshipman," and I wondered if they came to keep merry the season Dickens so loved. Hard by a sign announced readings from The Christmas Chimes by a popular actor for the next evening, so' we are still loyal to our old literary loves, despite new women and new fiction springing up at every hand.
And so remembering this tender quality erring' fickle humanity I say in the words of "Tiny Tim," "God bless us every one."
Awsre Waisian Larunor. London, 23rd December, 1896, Cxange's Wortp-ramtep Broop Mixtviie.
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Text read from the printed page and cleaned; old type leaves the occasional error.