So, in Brussels, where the English almost outnumber the native population, the audiences relish a curious amount of ignorance respecting England and the English; as the dramatis personæ of a piece exhibited so recently as last May at the Théâtre St Hubert, will show. It was called “_La Lectrice, ou une folie de jeune homme. Comédie Vaudeville en 2 actes_, par M. Bazard.” It must have had a considerable run; for the play-bill states that M. Ferville had created a great sensation in the character of “Sir Cobridge,” at Paris. We have some idea that “Sir Cobridge” must be intended for the Sleeping Partner in a Porter-Brewery, and that the name is a dreamy reminiscence of the popular individual Sir Co, made easy of remembrance by sign-boards. But the first personage we have occasion to mention is, “Sir Arthur” (jeune officier), who has no other name, and who has no occasion for one, everybody calling him “my lord,” according (as he observed) to the usual form of address in England. Sir Arthur considers it the first duty of a British officer to insult a respectable blind old gentleman--who is moreover his guest--because the blind old gentleman ventures to insinuate something against one of the officers of Sir Arthur’s regiment, through whom he has suffered severely. This chivalrous young nobleman, disdaining all inquiry into the circumstances, at once constitutes himself champion of every individual belonging to the entire British army. The next personage is a young gentleman possessing (as _he_ observed) a name extremely common in Britain, to wit, “Clac-Own.” The actor of this part was fitted up with a wig of violently red hair, like a carriage-rug, and was dressed in a kind of fusion of an English jockey with a French Field-Marshal. Expecting to inherit the vast possession of his uncle, Sir Cobridge, Clac-Own passed his time, according to the custom of Anglican nephews in such cases, in giving his uncle to understand how extremely inconvenient he finds his society, and in informing him that “Shak-es-pair”--who, being Sir Cobridge’s favourite author, is naturally the avowed bugbear of Clac-Own,--is an insufferable bore. This is going too far; and the wealthy old gentleman (who has quietly submitted to every other species of personal insult from his intended heir,) is so shocked by this contempt for “Shak-es-pair,” that he feels himself compelled to sing a song; wherein he demonstrates, in the most lucid tira-lal-a-la logic, that Clac-Own is very decidedly in the wrong. The scena concludes by Sir Cobridge ordering Clac-Own off, in some very deep bass notes, to “Le Lincoln!”--an idiomatic place of banishment, that would appear to be very popular among us, though whether it stands for Coventry, Bath, Jericho, Halifax, or any other such place, we are unable to report. Clac-Own, Sir Arthur, and several others having assembled at a later stage of the proceedings to go out hunting, the Belgian public perceive that our usual equipment for that