broad humour must
have negatived these advantages. In any case Sir GEORGE ALEXANDER'S
house was no place for a farce so out of harmony with Macedonian
methods.

Almost its solitary interest lay in the doubt, maintained to the last
moment, as to which of its many fatuous males would turn out to be the
hero--meaning by hero the chosen husband of the heroine, for none of
them had any personal claim to the title. Indeed, the choice ultimately
fell upon the one that had the least distinctive personality of all, his
disguise being kept up by a kind of protective colourlessness.

But for Miss ELLIS JEFFREYS, who played the aunt of the preposterous
_Lady Pen_ with a courage worthy of a better cause, and extracted from
the play such humour as it held for her, matters would have gone badly
for those of us who have been accustomed to look to Mr. VACHELL for
entertainment. Mr. ALLAN AYNESWORTH, as the heroine's guardian, had no
difficulty in transmitting pleasantly enough his mild share of the fun.
Miss MARIE HEMINGWAY needed all her prettiness to make up for the
futility of her part. And I was really sorry that so sound an actor as
Mr. DAWSON MILWARD should have had such ineffective stuff put into his
mouth.

Far the funniest thing about the play was the fact that so clever and
experienced a writer should have made it. Perhaps the compliments I have
paid to my friend Mr. VACHELL in these columns have given me the right
to beg him not to take advantage of his many recent successes and palm
off on the public just any kind of banality, For these are days when
pens (with or without a big P) must be pretty good if they are to
compete with the sword.

With this appeal (and with a silent prayer that the play may not come by
a natural death in time for my homily to serve as a funeral
appreciation) I hasten to conclude, hoping that it will find, him in the
pink (as they say) of a blushful remorse; and, anyhow, I remain,

His sincerely, O. S.

* * * * *

NURSERY RHYMES OF LONDON TOWN.

XI.--Saint John's Wood.

Saint John walked in a Wood
Where elm-trees spread their branches
And Squirrels climbed and Pigeons cooed.
And Hares sat on their haunches.
He built him willow huts
Wherever he might settle;
His meat was chiefly hazel-nuts,
His drink the honey-nettle.
His Wood that grew so green
Is now as grey as stone;
His Wood may any day be seen,
But where's the g