IN HIS BEST FORM.

"I don't know [laughter] what honourable Members [renewed laughter] are
laughing about [loud and prolonged laughter.]"

* * * * *

A NATIONAL CALAMITY.

GREAT PERFORMER CONTEMPLATES RETIREMENT.

Once more the Atlantic liner has delivered Mr. Bamborough (_ne_
Bamberger) back to us, and once more British concert-goers should in
consequence rejoice. But their natural jubilations are unfortunately
tempered by a momentous announcement which the great violinist made to
our representative at Plymouth last week, on the arrival of the _Julius
Caesar,_ to the effect that he has decided to retire from the active
pursuit of his profession. On receiving the news of this national
calamity our representative fell into a heavy swoon, and was revived
with some difficulty. The thought of the permanent withdrawal from
public life in his golden prime of the great virtuoso, with his opulent
physique, his superbly Mosaic features and his luxuriant chevelure, was
altogether too poignantly overwhelming. Let us hasten then to reassure
our readers that the blow, though it must inevitably descend one day, is
mercifully deferred for a considerable period. To begin with, Mr.
Bamborough is under contract to give five farewell tours in the United
States at intervals of four years before entering upon the penultimate
stage of his severance from the British concert platform. This, which
will begin in the autumn of 1934, is likely to continue until the year
1948, when he is booked for an extended tour in Polynesia, Japan, New
Guinea and Java. On his return to England in 1950 he proposes to give
sixty farewell recitals at intervals of three months, culminating in a
grand concert at the Albert Hall.

"And then," mused the illustrious artist, "farewell to the platform for
ever! I find it hard indeed to realise that the concert-going public and
I by that time will have been intimate friends for more than seventy
years, but so it will be, for I was only nine when I made my first
appearance in London, in a velvet knickerbocker suit with pearl buttons
and a Fauntleroy collar. Still, it will all make a lovely retrospect for
me, and when I finally retire it will be with a heart very full of
gratitude to my generous friends in all four hemispheres of the globe."

"And after that?" suggested our representative, now partially restored
by these reassuring tidings.

"After that--literature," was the emphati