followed by Sungleam, and a dialogue ensues,
which may be described as poetically scientific.

                             Oh, I have had such fun!
Half o'er the world I've had a glorious run!
I've played with gloaming pebbles in a brook,
Where anglers came, and showed the fish the hook;
Or, where the tide left pools about the sands,
With little shells I've tempted tiny hands,
Heard them called "pretty" in my golden ray.
Then flung as nasty ugly things away.
Sometimes I peeped in at a schoolroom door,
Sending a streak of sunlight o'er the floor;
You should have seen how heads uneasy turned,
What thoughts of cricket, &c.

Why did anglers show the fish the hook.
Because, I suspect, of the painful necessity of
"brook". Sungleam, and the Man in the
Moon, combine to protect Hop o' my Thumb
from the Ogre, and the Man in the Moon
having modestly and instructively avowed that
he borrows his light from the sun, proposes to
set another problem right, viz. the "undulating
theory of light." I can fancy an old gentleman
half asleep in the boxes, having, at this point, a
dreamy idea that he is at the Polytechnic,
listening to Professor Pepper.

It is to be regretted that the author, in the
next scene, should have dropped from the higher
realms of poetry into the infernal regions of
punning. But, perhaps, he only intended to
show that Daddy Thumb was a very weak-minded
person, when he made him remark,

          A soaking afternoon it's turning out,
          And so can Tiny tell you, I've no doubt.

This is a sad descent from the "active principle"
and the "undulating theory." It is Homer
nodding and tumbling headforemost into the
soot and cinders. Yet there are not many puns
in this pantomime. In a very long speech, the
Ogre has only two, and he wouldn't have had
those, but for the happy circumstance that he
was suffering from a cold in his head.

Fee! faw! fo! fum! you thought I couldn't catch
        you,
It's no use hiding—I'm a looking—atchew! (sneeze)

And

Developing, what doctors would express,
Adipose tissue—tishew! (sneeze) to excess!

Oh, yes, there's another. About to seize the
peasant, he observes:

Ha! by his knees I might take cold of him.

I abstain from using italics, and put this as
a puzzle for the ingenious.

Hop o' my Thumb finds the Ogre asleep, and
steals one of his seven-league boots.

   HOP. Oh! if I could be quietly there creeping,
And take the boots off while the Ogre's sleeping!

   GLORIOSA. Just try it. Folks are pleased the great
       to scoff,
And like to see their oddities taken off.

   HOP. One is removed—it's on—it fits me too!
Now for the other—ha! he wakes. It's true,
If two boots do seven leagues, I may suppose
One three and a half will do—so Hop, here goes!

Scientifically, astronomically, and arithmetically,
it must be admitted that this author is
always correct. The moon shines by the light
of the sun; the active principle of the sun's
rays is—I forget what exactly, but I have no
doubt that the author has accurately described
it; and up to this period of discovery it is an
undisputed fact that the moiety of seven is
three and a half. Thus we have instruction
blended with amusement, with an accuracy not
generally displayed by authors who attempt to
popularise science.

The next little book being a complete
programme of the Christmas production at the
Effingham Theatre, enables us to compare the
pantomime of the East with that of the West. I
may remark generally of the East-end pantomine,
that it is characterised by those peculiarities
which are said to be an element of strength in
the writings of the immortal Shakespeare—a bold
defiance of rhythm, a rugged force of expression,
and a great earnestness of purpose. Mr. Towers,
the author of "Goody Two Shoes," is animated
by the spirit of the censor morum. Hear how
fearlessly he lashes imposture:

They won't believe in the rope trick, nor any of the
        others,
Nor my Yankee tricksters the Davenport brothers,
Who came from America full of chuckle and grin,
To think how they'd take poor John Bull in;
But the people now won't tolerate swindling,
At the bare idea away he's dwindling;
But I'll be revenged—this here old horse is a
      knacker,
But in returns won't I give him backer.

The men of the East can be merry as well as
wise. Jokes upon tobacco run through this
pantomime like a verbal fugue, and come in every
now and then in a most pleasing manner. In
the very next page the people are told to stand
a little backer, which provokes a retort as to
"short cut " and "returns." It might be
objected that tobacco, as a subject for jokes, has
found its way into the East rather late in the
day; but it must be remembered that, as tobacco
came originally from the Far West, it would
naturally reach the East last, and be the more
valued for being so long on the way.

Homer glorified the heroes who fought under
the walls of Troy; the pantomime poet of the
East glorifies the British heroes who have
fought and bled for the honour of their country
in the prize ring. The villain of the piece, one
Rubicundsplitz, who doesn't fight fair, but
"puts on the hug," is denounced as

Like Joe Coburn, who never meant to fight,
He came here thinking to rule the roast,
With a coward heart covered with Yankee boast.
If he'd have fought Jem Mace, tho' once they had
      a doubt of him,
As the Irish say, Jem would have knocked saucepans
        out of him.

The poet rises with his theme, and rouses the
patriotism of Whitechapel with these stirring
lines:

What nation in the world can put men in the ring,
To fight such clippers as Sayers, Mace, and King;