Volume 93 — THE OLDEST SKETCHING CLUB IN THE WORLD.
Reading edition
At the house of Nat Langham young men were taught how to use their hands skilfully years agone; at the home of the Langham their hands are trained with equal care and discretion, with a different end in view. At the former they were excited, at the latter they are soothed. The spirits of the last are finer, if less ardent, than those of the first. Friday cannot be unlucky, for all their sketches are produced on that proverbially unfortunate day. A subject is given, and in two hours, over pipes and coffee, it is completed. Marvellous these rapid acts of sketchmanship! The Impressionists nowhere! The result? Well, go to the Gallery, 23, Baker Street. Look at the collection of pictures—on the two hours' system—by Messrs. Stacey Marks, Calderon, Fred Walker, Hodgson, Cattermole, B. W. Leader, Charles Keene, E. Hayes, H. Moore, Vicat Cole, Frank Dicksee, E. Duncan, C. J. Lewis, F. Weekes, Carl Haag, and other clever gentlemen, and see if Mr. Punch is not right in his commendation. The Langham Sketching Club has existed over half a century, and this is its first public exhibition. Ah! well, it is never too late to mend.
The Winter's Tale at the Lyceum.
There's a charm in her innocent glances, A charm in her step when she dances, For Perdita, "nary A one," like our Mary, The sweetest of Sweet Willum's fancies. To those who may not have heard it, a Chance most distinct will be Perdita. So, see now, we say, Mary Anderson play, You'll regret, when too late you've deferred it, Ah!
The Latest and Best from Berlin.
The Crown Prince was reported last week to be decidedly better. May it be so, and so go on. "His Imperial Highness," wrote the Correspondent of the Standard, "continues to express the fullest confidence in Sir Morell Mackenzie." And Mr. Punch, in the name of all Englishmen who are uninfluenced by any feeling akin to professional jealousy, "says ditto," to the Crown Prince. Prosit!
Mrs. R. is astonished that the English do not name streets and places after the names of their great Poets and their works. She says she only remembers two exceptions; one was a Hamlet in the Country, and the other was Wandsworth; the latter being so called after the Poet who wrote The Excursion,—probably, she thinks, a cheap excursion to this very spot, which is within a cab-fare of town.
The Third Edition of Mr. Frith's Recollections is now out. We hear it is dedicated to Archdeacon Sumner, and that the motto selected is the nautical quotation, "Port it is!"
ON THE WRONG SCENT.
Lord Salisbury, M.F.H. "CONFOUND THOSE YOUNG HOUNDS!—THEY'RE TAKING A LINE OF THEIR OWN!!"
