dramatic. At such moments the laughter of the House is checked, a
sudden gloom comes over the faces that were but now on the broad grin,
even the lineaments of Mr. ROBERTS become agonised, and the audience,
like _Christopher Sly_ when bored by the Duke's players, mutter to
themselves, "would t'were done." But these painful seconds, which, at
the time, seem hours, are, we are glad to say, but brief and passing
shadows over Mr. ROBERTS' own quaint humour which speedily reasserts
itself, and, the Pettitt-and-Sims fetters being cast aside, the
People's ARTHUR is himself again, and more so than ever. And, when he
_is_ himself, he is simply the most absurd person that ever faced the
footlights.

[Illustration: _Arthur Roberts_ (_to Arthur Williams_). "The boat's
getting along nicely, now we've got rid of some of the heavy cargo."]

Miss NELLIE STEWART is a pretty singing, dancing, twisting, twirling
_Susan_. But what induced handsome Miss MARION BURTON, once so gay
and sprightly as _Cherubino_ in _Le Nozze di Figaro_, to essay this
musically dreary part of _William_, and, further, to wear a costume
about as unlike that of the nautical and traditional _William_ as can
well be imagined, is a puzzle to anyone who knows what she _has_ done
and _can_ do. Not a bit of dash in the character; all the good old
conventional British Tar taken right out of it. She can indeed say
with the fool in _The Yeomen of the Guard_, "I've got a song to sing,
oh!" for she has two or three, but her "voice is wasted on the desert
air," as they go for nothing, and therefore probably nobody else could
make them go for anything.

Mr. ARTHUR WILLIAMS is funny, but his Variety Show scene, with
soliloquy and song, is too long; or rather, it would not be too long,