phi
Drama of the most approved type, ancient or modern. He is just the
sort of stage-scoundrel who from time to time seeks to take some mean
advantage of a heroine in distress, on which occasions said heroine
(of Adelphi Drama) will request him to "unhand her," or to "stand
aside and let her pass;" whereupon the dastardly ruffian retaliates
with a diabolical sneer of fiendish malice, his eyes ablaze with
passion, as, making his melodramatic exit at the O.P. wing, he growls,
"Aha! a day will come!" or "She must and shall be mine!" or, if
not making his exit, but remaining in centre of stage to assist in
forming a picture, he exclaims, with fiendish glee, "Now, pretty one,
you are in my power!" and so forth. 'Tis a great pity that such a
penny-plain-and-two-pence-coloured scoundrel should have been allowed
so strong a part among Mr. HARDY's excellent and unconventional
_dramatis personae_. Even the very, very strong ejaculations wherein
this bold bad man indulges on the slightest provocation belong to the
most antiquated vocabulary of theatrical ruffianism. However, there
he is, and all the perfumes of the Vale of Blackmoor will not suffice
for dispelling the strong odour of the footlights which pervades
every scene where this unconscionable scoundrel makes his appearance.
That he is ultimately disposed of by being stuck to the heart with
the carving-knife that had been brought in for cold-beef slicing at
breakfast, is some satisfaction. But far be it from the Baron to give
more than this hint in anticipation of the tragic _denoument_. Some
might accuse Mr. THOMAS HARDY of foolhardiness in so boldly telling
ugly truths about the Pagan Phyllises and Corydons of our dear old
Christian England; but we, his readers, have the author's word for
the truth of what he has written, as "the fortunes of _Tess of the
D'Urbevilles, a Pure Woman_," are "faithfully presented," by THOMAS
HARDY, and so his honour is pledged to the truth of this story which
his powers of narration have made so fascinating to a host of readers
besides the one who is a host in himself, namely,

THE BARON DE BOOK-WORMS.

* * * * *

JUSTICE FOR JUSTICE!

SCENE--_A Court of Justice. Prisoner, a young man of
eighteen, in the dock, weeping bitterly. His Uncle stands
before him, and occasionally offers him smelling salts.
General commiseration amongst the spectators, many of whom
are ladies armed with opera-g