oyed the
robustious sea-captain that we had to enjoy it too--a sound notion of
entertainment, that. Mr. SEBASTIAN SMITH played chief rabbit with
considerable skill and point; Mr. LENNOX PAWLE amused with his plump
dundrearyed mayor; Mr. SAM LIVESEY'S offensive was, I am sure, as
Hunnish as its author could possibly have desired. Miss ELLIS JEFFREYS
appeared in the first Act as a very plausible imitation of a prominent
tradesman's wife in an eighth-rate provincial town, with some quite
excellent moments. But she was evidently labouring under severe strain,
and I amused myself by speculating how long she would keep out of a
really well-cut skirt and a sophisticated air of Mayfair. Just an Act.
And surely she is mistaken in thinking that an effect of extreme
agitation is best conveyed, by very rapid quasi-cinematographic
progression up and down the stage? But I saw no reason to complain of
the bold bad butcher's taste in the matter of a subject for abduction.

T.

* * * * *

[Illustration: _Sergeant (to Private Simpkins arriving two days late)._
"WELL, SIMPKINS, SO YOU'VE TURNED UP, HAVE YOU?"

_Simpkins._ "YES, SERGEANT. BUT YOU ARE LUCKY TO GET ME. WHAT WITH
DOMESTIC TROUBLE AND ALL THAT DELUGE OF RAIN I NEARLY MADE A SEPARATE
PEACE."]

* * * * *

BUCEPHALUS AND THE ROAD-HOGS.

When Miss Ropes asked at breakfast how many of us would like to watch
the very last cricket-match of the season at Lumsdale, practically the
entire hospital held up its hand, and it was found that the two cars
could not accommodate us all. It was therefore settled that Haynes (who
said he knew the moves) should drive Ansell and me over in the
governess-cart.

It was also settled that the crew of the governess-cart should have an
early cold lunch and start an hour before the cars; thus (it was
calculated) we should all arrive at the cricket-ground fairly well
together. This did not take Haynes' driving into account. We started
from the door at a very satisfactory pace, probably because Bucephalus,
the fat pony, objected to the enthusiasm of our send-off. When we
reached the road he dropped into an amble so gentle that we decided that
he had really been running away in the drive. Next, taking advantage of
an almost imperceptible upward slope, he began to walk. Haynes clucked
at him and flapped the reins, but this had no effect beyond steering
Bucephalus into the left-hand ditch