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Elder Sister. "Now, WHEN YOU SEE A LITTLE ROUND DOT LIKE THAT AT THE END OF A SENTENCE, IT MEANS YOU'RE TO STOP." Harry. "I WILL-AND GO AND PLAY."

BETWEEN THE HOSTS.

LIKE him of old, when the plague's arrows sped,
And life sank blighted by that scathing rain,

We stand between the living and the dead,

Lifting our hands and prayers to Heaven in vain.
While those that faint upbraid us from dim eyes,
And those that fight arraign us as they fall,
And French and German curses 'gainst us rise,
And, hating none, we rest unloved of all.

Till in a bitter stress of doubt we wait,

And hardly dare or know to shape our prayer, Beyond the aching wish to see abate

This woe and waste that darken all the air, And make the winter fog seem like a pall

Laid on the death-struck earth, and hiding heaven
From the fierce eyes of those that fight and fall,
And theirs, to whom the wearier lot is given,

To sit, with innocent and unarmed hands,
And listen to the guns, far off or near;
To watch war's ravage trample down their lands,
And sweep off growth and storage of their year,
And heap with death's swathes, sow with corpses' seed,
Fields bared of kindly grass and feeding grain;
To see their furrows filled from wounds that bleed,
And mark on wall and hearth-stone death's dull stain.
Shall we dare counsel baffled, bleeding France,
As she creates defiance from despair,-
"Throw up the lost game; bow to conquest's chance,
And tame thyself the vanquished's lot to bear"?
When 'tis this stubbornness, that, in her place,
Our prayer and joy 'twere in ourselves to find:
When what we love best in her worn, wan, face,
Is the bent brow that speaks the unyielding mind.

Or shall we dare advise the German foe,

As with firm step, clear purpose, iron will, He moves on to his goal through waste and woe"For all thy sons' blood thou hast had to spill, For all thy treasure thou hast had to spend,

Thy breaking up of homes, and wrench of hearts, With less than retribution waive thine end, For love of thy foe's charms and witching arts"?

We own the provocation, foully given,

That knit a nation's hearts in bonds of steel; But think a shattered throne, great armies driven In rout, or held beneath the conqueror's heel, Set-off sufficient for that traitor-strokeImperial ruin 'gainst Imperial raid

Yet pity for this people how invoke,

That brooks no pity and implores no aid ?]

We love French wit, love France's courteous cheer, And skill in arts that make life fair and bright, As we respect the German soul sincere,

Thoroughness, learning, patience, faith in right; Nor scorn we France's false and fickle brood, Hating all truth that frets its self-conceit, More than we loathe the German's stolid mood,' That travels to its ends with iron feet.

And so we stand with a divided soul,

Our sympathies for both at war within,
Now eager for the strong, to reach his goal,
More often wishing that the weak could win.
Only one feeling will not leave our minds,
Hate of this hate, and anguish of this woe';
And still war's scythe-set car rolls on and grinds
Guilty and guiltless, blent in overthrow.

And first we interpose a useless hand,
And then we lift an unavailing voice,

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While still Death holds his way with sword and brand,

Still the Valkyrier* make their fatal choice.
Still stormed on by ill-will from either side,
Be we content to do the best we can-
Give all that wealth, peace, goodwill can provide,
For war's poor victims who their helpers ban.
We have no right to wait for men's good word,
No right to pause before men's unearned hate:
No right to turn the ear, when threats are heard
Of what will, some day, be the neutral's fate.
"Do right and fear not" must be England's stay,
As it has been, let wrath say what it will.
So with love's unthanked labour let us pray,t
And do our best to ease war's weight of ill!
The Norse "Choosers of the slain."
+ Qui laborat orat.

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George D'Artigues (an
amiable and impulsive
Bigamist) MR. NEVILLE.
Cristal (a comic Bigamist)
MR. HOLSTON.

Madame D'Artigues (a
wicked Trigamist).

ACT I.

ACT II.

The Curtain rising discovers Comic Bigamist at breakfast. His name is
CRISTAL.

Cristal. I was once hung for being a bigamist, but was restored by
COMMODORE BREITMANN, who is my benefactor.

Enter COMMODORE BREITMANN, author of the Breitmann Ballads. Commodore. I will fight anybody who says anything against MADAME D'ARTIGUES. She is my niece.

Madame Jezebel (meeting him). Thank you.

Commodore (starts). Hallo! You are not my niece, and I've fought six duels on your account already. GEORGE D'ARTIGUES is married. Madame Jezebel (starts). Ah!

Cristal (recognising JEZEBEL, starts). Ah! my wife!

ACT III.

GEORGE at home as an amiable Bigamist.

[Exit.

Mrs. D'Artigues (Number Two). This letter!! (starts). What does it mean?

George starts and exit. Commodore starts and remains.

N.B. By the way, a really capital scene here between MR. PAR-
SELLE (never better than in this), and MISS LYDIA FOOTE,
excellent.

Enter Madame D'Artigues (Number One).
Madame D'Artigues (seeing Number Two). Ah! (Starts.)
Madame D'Artigues (Number Two). Ah! (Starts.)
George (entering). Hallo! (Starts.)

[Very awkward this for poor GEORGE.
Enter CRISTAL. Madame Number One starts.
Cristal (to Madame Jezebel). But you were married to me.
But you
were married before.
Ergo you're a trigamist; I'm not really a bigamist; and GEORGE isn't
Ergo you oughn't to have married me.
a bit of a bigamist. The police will remove you, and there being
nothing more to say, we will have the Curtain down at once on this
capitally contrived situation which the audience will applaud.

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End of Play.

Attentive Person (to Friend). But I don't quite understand-
His Friend (much pleased with the piece.). No more do I. Bravo!
Room in GEORGE D'AR- (Applauds enthusiastically.) Doosidly well acted. Very good.

TIGUES' House.

Madame Jezebel (sweetly).

I want two thousand
million francs.

Gentleman in Stalls (who

has come in late-to his Friend). What for?
His Friend (who was in at the beginning). I don't know.
[They attend to the piece.
George (welcoming the Tragic Nautical Doctor). Ah, my old friend!
Let me introduce you to my wife.

[Nautical Doctor starts, and drops wine-glass. MADAME JEZEBEL
starts. GEORGE starts.

George (beginning to be a trifle suspicious). Hallo! (Dissembles.) Now we'll go out. [Exit with Nautical Doctor. Enter sharp little Soubrette, with Letter. Madame Jezebel (reading letter, starts). Your husband has quarrelled with Monsieur Somebody.

Attentive Man (in Stalls). Who's he?

His Friend. Don't know. (Refers to bill.) He's not down.
Madame (to herself).
(Starts.) GEORGE is a first-

rate swordsman.

They will fight!

Enter GEORGE, he starts and scowls at her.

She starts and dissembles.
N.B. Great deal of starting and dissembling in this piece.
George. I'm going to fight MONSIEUR THINGUMMY.
Madame (starting). Ah! (dissembling) Dear me!
(Aside). I'll poison him.

GEORGE sees her and starts.]

A CLAP OF STAGE THUNDER.
WORTHY MR. PUNCH,

CYNICS say that there are no dramatic critics now-a-days, for what is now called criticism is nothing but false praise. Puffery reigns supreme, they think, in this department of the Press, and public writers are so swayed by private motives towards laudation that anything like censure never comes from their paid pens. Well, this may be true in general, but there are certainly exceptions, as witness these remarks in a recent bit of criticism in the Daily News:

..

"He had no story to tell which was worth telling... he had not even the faintest idea of how to handle a plot. nor is the delineation of character exactly his forte .. his dialogue is weak and diffuse . . . his scenes, as a rule, lead to nothing, while his acts invariably terminate with an anticlimax."

A pleasant breakfast must the author have had after his "first night," if he found upon his table many notices of his new drama such as this! But, supposing there be fair grounds to justify such censure, I cry "Bravo!" to the writer who has the pluck to pen it. I consider that in pointing out the weak points of a play, a critic merely does what he is privileged and paid to do. As a writer for the public, it is his business and his duty to tell the public truly his opinion of a piece. When a play should be condemned, it is his province to speak plainly, and so prevent his readers from wasting time and money on a worthless work. The public have a right to look for censure in the

[Pours poison into GEORGE's glass. newspapers when censure is deserved: and, failing this, the critics may

think

George (violently). I see 'a yer do it.

Madame (starting). Ah!

George. MONSIEUR THINGUMMY (can't catch the name) was Lover. I have killed him.

your

[Starts. She starts. Attitudes. Enter Nautical Doctor.

He

starts.

Nautical Doctor. I will suggest another start. Let your wife you're poisoned, and we'll start off together.

Enter Soubrette.

Madame Jezebel (starts). Ah!

[They start off together, leaving MADAME JEZEBEL to start by herself.

Soubrette (starts). Ah!

[Goes into fits and starts. Prompter starts and lets down the Curtain on Act I.

be viewed as merely hireling manufacturers of puffs. Too many write
with rosewater where they rather should use vinegar; and if severity
in criticism is ever to become still rarer than it is, we may live to see
the public tendering their thanks for it in some such form as this:-
"Mr. Punch begs to express the gratitude of the public for the
sensible severity wherewith the Press has criticised the stupid play
produced on Monday evening last. The critics have so seldom the
courage to condemn, that a special word of thanks is in this instance
their due: and, speaking in the name of British playgoers in general,
the way in which a clumsy, dull, and ineffective play has most de-
Mr. Punch would fain express their gratefullest acknowledgment of
servedly been doomed."

Leaving you on due occasion to carry out the hint, I remain,
Yours most admiringly,
RHADAMANTHUS JONES.

Tartarus Place, Tuesday.

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Policeman (to obtrusive Tramp). "Now THEN, WHAT D'YE MEAN BY SHOVING YOURSELF IN BEFORE THESE POOR PEOPLE OUT O' YOUR YOU STAND BACK, OR-(thinking deeply)-YOU SHALL HAVE SUCH A WASH!!"

TURN

POOR LOOK-OUT FOR PUDDING.
AN alarming decree the Tours Government utter,
British Lion at food-time 'twill cause thee to roar;
They forbid exportation of salt, eggs, and butter-
We're beginning to find that the War is a bore.
England's housekeepers cry, with anxiety brooding
On provision for Christmas at hand and in view,
"Badly off we shall be for mince-pie and plum-pudding,
For without eggs and butter, O what can we do?"

Well, there's one consolation for Paterfamilias

And Mater, which ought to make fond parents smile;
Christmas fare, if less rich, will make children less bilious,
Give their elders, too, less indigestion and bile.

WOMEN'S NATURAL RIGHTS.

THE question of Married Women's Property has not yet reached a settlement. On the evening of Monday week a meeting of the Victoria Discussion Society was held in the Cavendish Rooms to discuss it. Opinions were expressed by ladies and gentlemen in a succession of speeches which led to no conclusion; but SIR ERSKINE PERRY, who occupied the Chair, made a significant remark :

they propose to marry a girl without any but naturally personal property; oftentimes the cheapest as well as the most generous marriage. There was something also in what was said by another of the speakers:

"MR. HOSKYNS . . . contended that the married women of England had hitherto been very unfairly treated with regard to property. He, MR. HOSKYNS, contended that husbands should treat their wives as equal human beings. He did not consider that they had been so treated hitherto."

Very true, HosKYNS, in a measure. On the whole, perhaps, women have not been treated like equal human beings. However, they are always helped first at dinner, and men usually stop at a door, and let their female companions enter first. And this is right. Persons of the ruder sex, meaning to be rude, often make a remark which is truer than they imagine, for them at least. Woman," they say, "is the inferior animal." "Yes," may be the reply, "but she is the superior human being." Let every husband, therefore, duly resign to his wife the liver-wing of a fowl, unless she prefers the gizzard, and let him at least give her the refusal of the pheasant's leg.

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Incomplete Charade.
GORTSCHAKOFF! What imports
This Statesman's nomination?
With "my two last" it sorts
To shake off obligation.

Educational Colours.

THE Post, in a leader on the subject of education, has the following remark relative to "street Arabs" and "gutter-children" who will be educated in the new national schools:

"The Chairman observed that the subject about to be discussed was one of
great importance to every household. It affected both heads of families and
their children, and affected them in the most serious and important manner."
No doubt. The subject of Married Women's Property is one about
which a husband and wife may differ, so as to quarrel and rave. Thus
it may affect the heads of families very seriously. And, as affections
of the head are often hereditary, it may indirectly affect their children
likewise. These considerations must make prudent men think, not
twice only, but three or four times, or more, before they marry, unless no colour until it is decomposed.

"But the colourless religion which will be part of their mental pabulum will be better than their present no-religion."

Ought not religion, pure and simple, to be colourless? Light is of

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