Out of regard to the importunities of numerous correspondents, the Baron has read Ibsen's Master Builder, translated by two of the Ibsenitish cult. "Only fancy!" Of all the weak-knee'd, wandering, effeminate, unwholesome, immoral, dashed "rot," to quote Lord Arthur in the Pantomime Rehearsal, this is the weak-knee'dest, effeminatest, and all the epithets as above superlatived. Read it by all means, and see it, too, if you will, but if the honest English play-goer's verdict is worth a "big, big, D" (I thank thee, W. S. G., for teaching me that abbreviated form of dashed expressiveness!) he will give Ibsen's Master Builder the benefit of the "D," and "D" it once and for ever. And that, at your service, my masters, is the rough-and-ready opinion expressed by,
Yours truly, The Baron de B.-W.
A RACY READING OF AN OLD QUOTATION FROM SCOTT.
(Suggested by Burns.)
"My foot is on Newmarket Heath!
My name, Jem Lowther!"
The benefits that Sir John Lawes has been able and will yet be able to confer on agriculturists everywhere, including those in his immediate neighbourhood, cause him to be regarded as a living exception to the rule about a prophet in his own country. So, in that part of England, "Profit and Lawes" are synonymous terms, meaning the same person.