It is a pitiful
sight to behold these poor people taking leave of their softly-stuffed
seats, their rocking-chairs, their footstools, slippers, cushions, and all
those little official comforts of which they nave been so cruelly deprived.
That man must, indeed, be hard-hearted who would refuse to sympathise with
their sorrows, or to uplift his voice in the doleful Whig chorus, when he
hears--
[Illustration: THE PACK IN FULL CRY.]
* * * * *
THE DRAMA
DUCROW AT SADLER'S WELLS.
When, in a melo-drama, the bride is placing her foot upon the first step of
the altar, and Ruffi_aa_no tears her away, far from the grasp of her lover;
when a rich uncle in a farce dies to oblige a starving author in a garret;
when, two rivals duellise with toasting-forks; when such things are plotted
and acted in the theatre, hypercritics murmur at their improbability; but
compare them with the haps of the drama off the stage, and they become the
veriest of commonplaces. This is a world of change: the French have invaded
Algiers, British arms are doing mortal damage in the Celestial Empire,
Poulett Thomson has gone over to Canada, and oh! wonder of wonders!
Astley's has removed to Sadler's Wells!! The pyrotechnics of the former
have gone on a visit to the hydraulics of the latter, the red fire of
Astley's has come in contact with the real water of the Wells, yet, marvel
superlative! the unnatural meeting has been successful--there has not been
a single _hiss_.
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