Volume 100 — FROM OUR MUSICAL BOX.
Reading edition
We sent our Musical Box (Cox being unable to accompany him on the piano or any other instrument, by reason of the severe weather) to hear STAVENHAGEN at St. James's Hall, Thursday last, the 22nd. Our Musical B. was nearly turned out of the hall, he was in such ecstasies of delight over a Beethovenly concerto, which "bangs Banagher," he said, subsequently translating the expression by explaining, "that is, beats BEETHOVEN." Our M.B. wept over a cadenza composed by the performer, and was only restored by the appearance—her first—of Madame STAVENHAGEN, who gave somebody's grand scena far better, probably, than that somebody could have given it himself, set as it was to fine descriptive music by the clever STAVENHAGEN, which delighted all hearers, especially those who were Liszt-eners. "Altogether," writes our Musical Box, "a very big success. Music is thirsty work. I am now about to do a symphony in B. and S."
VICE VERSÂ.
A poet in the Forum asks the question, "Is Verse in Danger?" 'Tis a wild suggestion! Is Verse in Danger? Nay, that's not the curse; Danger (of utter boredom) is in Verse!
"ODD MAN OUT."—On Saturday last, the last among the theatrical advertisements in the Daily Telegraph was the mysterious one, "MR. CHARLES SUGDEN AT LIBERTY," and then followed his address. "At Liberty!" What does it mean? Has he been—it is a little difficult to choose the right word, but let us say immured—has he been immured in some cell?—for it does sound like a "sell" of another sort—and has he at last effected a sensational escape? No doubt CHARLES, our friend, will be able to offer the public a satisfactory explanation when he re-appears on the Stage which suffers from his absence.