art undone.

An eye is, for all the world, exactly like a cannon in this respect;
that it is not so much the eye or the cannon, in themselves, as it is
the carriage of the eye--and the carriage of the cannon, by which both
the one and the other are enabled to do so much execution. The Widow's
eye, owing mainly to the militant and menacing carriage thereof,
_looked_ as formidable as a whole park of artillery, ranged up to
defend a final fortification, or, as it might be, Last Ditch of
defence. Whether it were exactly as fierce or formidable as it
seemed--well, that was a question which my Uncle TOBY had not yet
fully "looked into"--as he was now doing into Widow WADMAN'S left eye.

"I protest, Madam," said my Uncle TOBY, "I can see nothing whatever in
your eye!"

[Illustration: UNCLE TOBY AND WIDOW WADMAN.

(_Modern Ulster Version. After C. R. Leslie, R.A.'s celebrated
picture._)

MRS. ULSTER. "NOW, MR. BULL, DO YOU SEE ANY '_GREEN_' IN MY EYE?"]

But this was not what the Widow wanted.

"It is not in the white, or yellow," said Mrs. WADMAN. My Uncle TOBY
looked with might and main into the pupil.

Now there never, surely, was an eye so fitted to rob my Uncle TOBY of
his repose as the very eye at which he was looking. It was not, Madam,
a rolling eye, a dissatisfied or a revolutionary one--nor was it an
eye wicked, wanton, or wandering--but it _was_ an eye sparkling,
petulant, and imperious, of high claims, and large exactions--an eye
full of brisk challenges and sharp responses, an eye of satisfied
strength and confident ascendancy--speaking, not like the dulcet
appeal of a mellow flute, but like the trumpet stop of some powerful
party organ. The cornea was perhaps a shade sallow or so, even verging
on the Widow's favourite Yellow--(for the Widow, like some modern
decorative artists, was sweet upon all tawny tints, from the most
delicate buff to the most _flamboyant_ Orange)--but as to any touch,
tint, or tone of her chromatic antipathy, Green----!!!

"Now, _dear_ Mr. SHANDY," cried the Widow, edging nearer, and opening
the optic to its widest, "tell me--tell me truly, _do_ you, _can_ you
detect the slightest suspicion of Green in _my_ eye----?"

"I protest, Madam," said my Uncle TOBY, "I can see nothing whatever of
the sort!"

* * * * *

THE B. AND S. DRAMA AT THE ADELPHI.

"SOME one has blundered!" Who? The Messrs. GATTI, in sending to
Messrs. BUCHANAN and SIMS ("B. & S.