We are delighted—everyone is delighted, and that is much the same thing—to know that Mrs. Bancroft is by this time on the high road to recovery from the effects of what might have been a serious accident. The "inimitable" was in a Hansom, when the horse suddenly fell. Had Mrs. Bancroft been only what is professionally known as "A Walking Lady," this could not have happened. The Daily Telegraph's account of it informed us that "Mr. Blakeley, now of the Criterion Theatre, and once a member of Mr. and Mrs. Bancroft's own company, who was happily passing immediately after the occurrence, was the means of having the lady taken to her private residence." Mr. Blakeley is always "happy" in any part he undertakes, nihil tetigit quod non ornavit, and no doubt he was "happily passing," perhaps gaily whistling, lightly stepping, merrily twirling a stick, and walking along "thinking of nothing at all," when he became aware of the danger to the popular ex-manageress, which at once changed his note from a tenner to an alto: in fact alto-gether altered it. [The above comment would have been impossible had the reporter stated that, "Happily for Mrs. Bancroft, Mr. Blakeley, &c., &c., was passing at the moment, and, &c., &c.">[
"Ben Trovato!"—Yes, found at last; this Ben is Mr. Ben Davies, who sang five songs before the Queen, that is—to avoid all appearance of rudeness—in Her Gracious Majesty's presence, one day last week. He is now "Big Ben Trovato-re" in chief, and long may he remain so.
A Proper Name.—That peculiar but not uncommon ornithological species known as "Gaol-birds" ought to be kept in a Knave-iary.
TOO CONSCIENTIOUS BY HALF.
"Is that enough, Sir?"
"Yes; that'll do very well. And now shave me, please."