THE PARTY PETER BELL.
A potterer, Sir, he was by trade,
A Party Potterer, much respected,
And every year, when Spring appeared,
The yellow blooms, to bards endeared,
In swarms by PETER were collected.
He roved among the vales and streams,
In the green wood and hollow dell,
And, upon April's nineteenth day,
Big buttonholers made display
Upon the heart of PETER BELL.
In vain through each succeeding year
Did Nature mourn her lessening store.
A Primrose on the river's brim
A Party emblem was to him,
And it was nothing more!
DISINFECTING THE WIGS.—"L'Enfant Prodigue," which is filling the Prince of Wales's Theatre day and night, has much in it that is delightful. Perhaps there is nothing quite excels the subtle touch in the programme where it is written: "The theatre is disinfected by the Sanitas Company, Limited. The Wigs by Clarkson."
CURIOUS, AND "MORE ANON!"—The Evelyn v. Hurlbert trial was as full of literary interest as a sale of old books and manuscripts. Specially valuable were copies of Evelyn's Diary; while, in spite of the pressing demand, Murray's Memoirs were uncommonly scarce. Victorious Mr. HURLBERT! Yet for all his triumph, he will be, for some time, a "very much Murray'd man."
A SAVOY QUESTION.—The general idea of the forthcoming new Opera at the Savoy appears to be "all Dance to SOLOMON's music." Is it to be a pantomime-drama, like L'Enfant Prodigue, or simply a ballet? If neither, where do song-words and dialogue come in?