Robin Goodfellow, by Mr. Carton, is not a brilliant play, as its dialogue lacks epigrammatic sparkle: neither is it an interesting play, as the plot, such as it is, is too weak for words,—which, by the way, at once accounts for the absence of the sparkle above-mentioned.

Three questions must have occurred to those who have already seen the play, and which those who may hereafter see it will be sure to ask themselves,—and they are these:—

First. Why should Grace's father, Valentine Barbrook, tell her of the means by which he had brought about the betrothal of Hugh Rokeby to Constance?

Secondly. This being so, why allow six weeks to elapse when a word from the one girl, who knows, to the other, who doesn't, would explain everything?

Thirdly. If a sudden shock would kill the grandmother, surely, in the course of six weeks, Grace would have found out that her shortest and best way was to tell the truth to her cousin, without mentioning it to the old lady.

If in doubt, why didn't she confide in the Doctor, who would at once have told her whether the nature of the communication she had to make was of a sufficiently startling nature to kill the old lady right off or not?

The fact is, it was necessary to keep the lover, Mr. Stanley Trevenen, away for some time, in order to allow of there being a glimmer of probability in the announcement of his having thrown over the girl to whom he is devotedly attached, and having married somebody else whom he met abroad. "Now," says the dramatist, "what is the shortest possible space of time I can allow for this? Ahem!—say a month." So he gives him a month. "Then," says he, next, "what is the shortest possible time we can allow for an engagement and a marriage? Say six weeks. Good. Six weeks be it. Only, hang it, this muddle has to last for six weeks! Well, it can't be helped. I can't give any more trouble to the bothering plot; and, as after all, there's a capital character for Mr. Hare, and not at all a bad one for Miss Rorke, with a fairish one for Forbes Robertson, why, if Mr. Hare will accept the play, and do it, I should say that, cast and played as it will be, it is pretty sure to be a success."

So much for the Author and the Play. As to the Actors, Mr. Hare has had many a better part, and this is but an inferior species of a genus with which the public has long been familiar; but there is no one who can touch him in a part of this description. Admirable! most admirable! Barbrook is in reality a silly elderly scamp, with all the will to be a villain but not endowed with the brains requisite for that line of life. Thus, the Author, unconsciously, has created him. But Mr. Hare invests this feather-headed scoundrel with Iago-ish and Mephistophelian characteristics, that go very near to make the audience believe that, after all, there is something in the part, and also in the plot. But the part is only a snowman, and melts away under the sunlight of criticism. Miss Kate Rorke is charming. It is a monotonous and wearisome part, and the merit of it is her own. Miss Norreys is very good but the girl is insipid. Miss Compton, as the good-hearted, knowing, fast lady, wins us, as she proves herself to be the real Robin Goodfellow, the real good fairy of the piece, Robin Goodfellow is a misnomer, unless the aforesaid Robin be dissociated from Puck: but it is altogether a bad title as applied to this piece for, as with Mr. Carton's piece at the St. James's, Liberty Hall, it is a title absolutely thrown away. Mr. Forbes Robertson is as good as the part permits, and it is the Author's fault that he is not better. Mr. Gilbert Hare gives a neat bit of character as the Doctor, and Mr. Donald Robertson may by now have made something of the rather foolish Clergyman (whether Rector, Vicar, or Curate I could not make out), whose stupid laugh began by making a distinct hit, and, on frequent repetition, became a decided bore. It is played in one Scene and three Acts, and no doubt in the course of a fortnight certain repetitious and needless lines will have been excised, and the piece will play closer, and may be an attraction, but not a great one, for some time to come. At all events, the part of Valentine Barbrook will add another highly-finished picture to Mr. Hare's gallery of eccentric comedy-character. I think of him with delight, and exclaim, once more—Admirable!

Private Box.

At Drury Lane the Baddeley Cake Meeting was a Goodly sight.

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