BOX OFFICE

ON the third night of its existence I saw the new burlesque of Faust at the Gaiety. Faust up to Date is not Faust up to Much. Such as it is, it has taken two distinguished Adelphi melodramatists, Messrs. PETTITT and SIMS, to do it. Clearly the melodramatists are dissembling. The Extravagant Travesty plays two hours and threequarters, and is therefore about two hours too long. Here and there the two dissembling melodramatists have made a conscientious attempt at burlesquing some of the principal situations in the Opera and drama. Occasionally there are some good lines, as there ought to be in the course of two hours and three-quarters, though, whether in dialogue or in song, it seemed to me that the utterance of only Miss ST. JOHN, Mr. LONNEN, and Mr. STONE was distinct.

There is nothing remarkably amusing in the First Act, which, however, is the better of the two; but in the Second Act, there is a dance of four girls, all alive and kicking, which is more effective from its eccentricity than its grace; and in the last scene there is the now inevitable Irish song for LONNEN, of which a Mr. MARTIN is announced as the writer and composer, the talented authors of the burlesque having, as I suppose, drawn the line at "a rival" and "ar-rival, or at "flying being a matter of a-pinion,' Patron of the Drama (to and MEYER LUTZ, composer of the music of Box-office-keeper concealed the extravaganza, being unwilling to enter within). "I say, is the second for an Irish jig competition. Be this as it act better than the first? may, the Martin-Lonnen song, which is not (Sadly.) There's no dancing in it, don-cher-no." brought in till just before the finish, as a bonne bouche, is not a patch upon "Killaloe;" but to see the chorusmen seriously marking the time on each other's heads with their shillelaghs, after the fashion of "The Two MACS," is very funny, and a hit, "or several hits," as the Dissemblers would say. The music is poor, and affords little opportunity for FLORENCE ST. JOHN or for anybody else. Mr. STONE, who appears as Valentine, may probably be as the dissembling melodramatists nightly jointly observe a precious Stone, only requiring a better setting to display his real brilliancy; but those who remember M. MILHER as the burlesque Valentine in Le Petit Faust,-an opéra bouffe full of fun and sparkling melody,-will be inclined to regret either that the English low comedian has never seen that performance, or, if he has, that he has not sufficiently profited by it.

any sympathy. As CHARLES JAMES FOX wrote,-"It has been thought dangerous to the morals of mankind, even in fiction and romance, to make us sympathise with characters whose general conduct is blameable." Hear! hear! And as I could not imagine anyone sympathising with Ariane, or with any of the dramatis persone, so I did not consider that play as dangerous to morals. Thus, "the point of this here remark lays in the application of it," as 1 was comparing the moral effect of the two plays, and not their literary or dramatic merits.-J. I. T. B.

VOCES POPULI.

AT A NORTH BRITISH HYDROPATHIC. SCENE-An immense Drawing-room, lighted by numerous gasburners, and furnished on a scale of imposing splendour. It is after dinner; tea and coffee have just been served in the corridor outside, and persons of more luxurious habits have brought in their cups to sip at leisure. On settees in the centre sit middleaged Ladies in grey, red, and white woollen shawls, each politely admiring the other's work. Very young Ladies whisper and laugh in the window-seats, all about nothing, and exhibit the liveliest affection for one another. Others converse, not unconscious of the distinction, with the exceptional Young Men who have donned evening dress, and who glide about with an agreeable air of feeling perfectly at home. People who don't know anybody sit apart in chairs, perusing "The Hotels of Europe," or anything else they can get hold of, and wondering why other people are so unsociable. A stout old Lady in a corner is discoursing to a meek little old Maid,in a strong Yorkshire accent, which from time to time compels the unwilling attention of everybody in the room. The old Lady's husband endeavours in vain to catch her eye from the background, as her confidences threaten to become of an alarmingly intimate nature. In the foreground, two Visitors have just discovered a bond of sympathy in the fact that neither of them has found Scotch scenery quite what he expected. First Visitor (delighted). You weren't much impressed with the Kyles of Bute? You don't say so! Now that really is very curious -no more was I! Now, Loch Lomond is certainly rather pretty(as if he did not wish to turn its head)-bits of it, you know. But the Trossachs-what are the Trossachs, after all?

Second V. Exactly. (Feeling that this settles the Trossachs.) What are they? And then some people tell you Glencoe's so magnificent-I went through it in a pouring rain, and all I can say is-I couldn't see anything in the place! and look at Staffa and Iona-why, to hear some people talk

First V. (in a large-minded way). Well, I didn't think Iona was so bad myself, I must say

Second V. Ah, perhaps you're a good sailor, now I'm always ill on any steamer

The Yorkshire Lady (in a slow ruminating voice). An' so ah said to ma husband, "Ah doan't loike to cloime oop on them cherry boonks,' as they cahl them, it may be vara noice," ah said, "when ya git oop, but if ah was oop, ah'd hev to coom daown agean." An' ma husband sez to me, "Doan't ya be sooch a blethrin owd"

[Her Husband drops a book in the background.

By the time this notice appears, improvements may have been made in the piece. After the First Act, I overheard a Masher plaintively inquiring at the pigeon-hole of the Box-office, "Is the Second Act any better than the first ?" What the invisible official's answer to A Young Lady who likes Excitement (to one of the agreeable Young this was I could not catch, but the complainant, in a deeply injured Men in Evening Dress). Oh, Mr. TORCKLER, don't they ever do tone, went on, "Look here, there's no dancing in the First Act, anything here? don-cher-no." I suppose he received some comforting assurance on Mr. Torckler. Oh, yes, I'm going to ask that lady in the blue the subject from the hidden oracle, the veritable Jack-in-the-Box-spectacles to sing in a minute, and there's somebody in the house Office, as further observation made he none, but with his hand on somewhere, who will play the flute, if you go the right way to his swelling shirt-front, returned, struggling with suppressed manage him. emotion, to his stall. Gaiety Management ought to know how to cater The Y. L. (pettishly). Oh, I didn't mean that-I meant get up for Gaiety Masherdom: "plenty of caper' sauce," as the dissembling something. Adelphian melodramatists would say, both together, of course. Yet when that bright particular star of burlesque, the inimitable NELLIE FARREN, is absent from the Gaiety, the gaiety of its patrons seems to be eclipsed. What a "little Dr. Faust" she was, when TERRY was the Mephistopheles, and KATE VAUGHAN the elegant Marguerite! I hope, for the sake of Mashers and Management, it may not turn out that

There's nae luck about the house,
There's nae luck at 'a;
There's nae luck about the house

When our own NELL's awa'.

Yes, in her absence the Gaiety Faust seems but forced gaiety, after all, judging at least by the present effort, says, with incorrect pronunciation,

P.S.-In my criticism on the Dean's Daughter, a fortnight ago, I

A Solitary Stranger (seizing the opportunity of speaking to somebody). If you're fond of climbing, there's a very nice mountain in the vicinity-you can get up it easily in three hours, and it's only eight miles by road.

The Y. L. (stiffly). Oh, thank you very much. (To Mr. T.) I mean get up a dance, charades, anything!

An Habituée. Ah, you should have been here the week before last, when the house was full! There was something going on every evening in the Recreation Room-theatricals, dumb-crambo, thought reading, and I don't know what all-such fun we had!

t we

The Y. L. (coldly). Really? (To Mr. T.) But why couldn't dress up, or something?

[Vaguely.

Mr. T. (doubtfully). Well, there's not much point in dressing-up unless you do something when you are dressed up, is there?

The Y. L. (who would be quite satisfied with the mere dressing-up). I suppose not. Well then, we might dance.

Mr. T. (who doesn't dance, but would recite if anybody were to ask him). Not enough men.

The Y. L. Oh, some of the girls-(by which she means the other

referred to Mr. F. C. PHILIPS as the Author of Ariane. Mrs. CAMP-girls)-can dance with one another. Do propose a dance.

BELL PRAED wrote Ariane. But there is a strong similarity of cha

Mr. Torckler (diplomatically). Er-well, I must find out what racter in the two heroines, with neither of whom should we feel people think about it before proposing anything, you know. (Circu

Elderly Masher (who can't see that his attentions are unwelcome). "I'M SURE YOU'RE FOND OF MUSIC! Persecuted Fair One (pettishly). "OH-YES-VERY-WHEN IT PUTS A STOP TO CONVERSATION!"

PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI.-NOVEMBER 10, 1888.

HUNTSMAN. "MORNIN', M' LORD!"