ve it," says
_Orlando_, and is welcomed by the _Duke_ to his table. And what does
_Orlando_ do? Does he seize the boar's head, or something equally
attractive, and rush back to his fainting servitor with the prize? Not a
bit of it! He leisurely delivers fourteen lines of blank verse about the
"shade of melancholy boughs," "the creeping hours of time," and
"blushing, hides his sword!" In my neighbourhood happened to be one of
the greatest advocates of our generation, and I heard this legal
luminary whisper, "while that fellow is talking, the old servant will
die of starvation," and the legal luminary was entirely and absolutely
right. _Adam would_ have died of starvation while his garrulous master
was posturing. A country wench called _Audrey_ was admirably
impersonated by Miss MARION LEA, and the remainder of the cast was, on
the whole, satisfactory. Stay, it is only just that I should single out
for special commendation Mr. ARTHUR BOURCHIER, who played a character,
to whom reference was frequently made as "the melancholy _Jaques_,"
faultlessly. Here again the author committed an indiscretion. _Jaques_
(by the way, why was not Mr. SUGDEN'S _role_ described as, "the more
melancholy _Touchstone_?") is permitted to stop the action of the piece
to deliver some thirty lines commencing with the trite truism, "all the
world's a stage." Mr. BOURCHIER spoke his words with excellent
discretion, but I cannot help thinking that, in the cause of Art, the
speech should have been cut out, and I have no doubt, that Mr.
BOURCHIER, as a true artist, will cordially agree with me.

And so, to quote Mrs. LANGTRY in the Epilogue, "farewell;" but in spite
of what you have said to the contrary, I am still of opinion, my dear
Editor, that _As You Like It_ must have been originally intended for Mr.
and Mrs. GERMAN REED'S Entertainment, minus Mr. CORNEY GRAIN.

Sincerely Yours,
A CORRESPONDENT WITHOUT A MEMORY.

* * * * *

ART-AUCTIONEER'S RELIGION, "CHRISTIE-anity."

* * * * *

AN ASTRAL COMPLICATION.

[Illustration:]

In periods of sleep, despair,
Of aberration, we have guessed
We were not altogether there,
But seldom known where was the rest.

Our Astral Bodies wander far,
Whenever they will not be missed.
Strange things in earth and heaven are
For the devout theosophist.

Young WILFRID wooed the wealth of CLARE;
But ah, in spit