in frosty weather. Hares are not so mad as in March, still, on the
approach of a passer-by, they go off rapidly. Rabbits, especially
Welsh ones, are now excellent. As Christmas recedes, geese have
stopped laying golden eggs. Turkey (in Europe, at least) is in high
feather. Brill is now in brilliant condition; soles are right down to
the ground, whilst eels begin to show themselves in pairs. Halibut
is cheap, but sackbut is scarce, and psaltery requires such prolonged
soaking before it is fit for the table, that purchasers fight shy of
anything but small parcels. As for plaice, a large dealer tells us he
has been driven to the conclusion that there is "no plaice like home."

* * * * *

We hear of a curious incident in connection with the revival of _Henry
the Eighth_ at the Lyceum. On Saturday night, a gentleman who had
witnessed the play from the Stalls and carefully sat it out, demanded
his money back as he went out. He did so on the ground that he had
always understood that _Henry the Eighth_ was by SHAKSPEARE, and found
it credibly asserted that that gentleman had no part in the authorship
of the piece. Mr. BRAM STOKER, M.A., was called to the assistance
of the box-keeper, and ably discussed the point. Whilst declining to
commit himself to the admission that SHAKSPEARE had no hand in the
work, he quoted authority which assigned the authorship to FLETCHER
and MASSENGER; in which case, he ingeniously argued, the authorship
being dual, the price of the Stalls ought to be doubled. Conversation
taking this turn, the gentleman, whose name did not transpire,
withdrew.

* * * * *