*

FANCIED FAIR.

"The Duke of Wellington," says a correspondent of the _Times_, "left his
umbrella behind him at a fancy fair, held for charitable purposes, between
Twickenham and Teddington. On discovering it, Lady P. immediately said,
'Who will give twenty guineas for the Duke's umbrella?' A purchaser was
soon found; and when the fact was communicated to his Grace, he
good-naturedly remarked, 'I'll soon supply you with umbrellas, if you can
sell them with so much advantage to the charity.'" We trust his Grace's
benevolent disposition will not induce him to carry this offer into
execution. We should extremely regret to see the Hero of Waterloo in
Leicester-square, of a rainy night, vending second-hand _parapluies_. The
same charitable impulse will doubtlessly induce other fashionable hawkers
at fancy fairs to pick his Grace's pockets. We are somewhat curious to
know what a Wellington bandana would realise, especially were it the
produce of some pretty lady P.'s petty larceny. "Charity," it is said,
"covereth a multitude of sins." What must it do with an umbrella? We fear
that Lady P. will some day figure in the "fashionable departures."

[Illustration: FOR SYDNEY DIRECT.]

* * * * *

PUNCH'S THEATRE.

MARTINUZZI AS THE ACT DIRECTS.

The production upon the stage of a tragedy "not intended for an acting
play," as a broad travestie, is a novel and dangerous experiment--one,
however, which the combined genius of the Dramatic Authors' Council has
made, with the utmost success. The "Hungarian Daughter" was, under the
title of "Martinuzzi," received, on its first appearance, with bursts of
applause and convulsions of laughter!

The plot of this piece our literary reviewer has expressed himself unable
to unravel. We are in the same condition; all we can promise is some
account of the scenes as they followed each other; of the characters, the
sentiments, the poetry, and the rest of the fun.

The play opens with an elderly gentleman, in a spangled dressing-gown, who
commences business by telling us the time of day, poetically clapping a
wig upon the sun, by saying, he

"Shakes day about, like perfume from his _hair_,"

which statement bears out the after sentence, that "the wisdom he endures
is terrible!" An Austrian gentleman--whose dress made us at first mistake
him for Richard III. on his travels--arrives to inform the gentleman _en
deshabille_--no other than _Cardinal