(To the Editor of the _Daily News_.)――Sir,――We are told that a parody in three or four acts of _The Tempest_ is in preparation, and we are asked by the author to suspend judgment until its production. The appeal is at any rate superficially fair. But Mr. Burnand’s letter is not very reassuring. For instance, he calls the great play “a fairy tale,” i.e., he seems to put it on a level with “The White Cat” and “Puss in Boots.” But let that pass. All who reverence the great name of Shakespeare, and who are grateful for his noble plays (and they are numerous, whatever Mr. Burnand and _Punch_ may think), will patiently await _The King of the Caliban Island_ (what charming wit and taste!) leaning upon their swords. In any case Shakespeare’s memory cannot suffer. What is to be feared is the degradation of the stage which he ennobled, and of the actors and dramatic authors of whom he ought to be the proudest and most sacred boast.――I am, Sir, yours faithfully, AN OLD PLAYGOER. August 20, 1883. ――――:o:―――― In the next weekly column of _The Theatres_ (August 27, 1883,) Mr. Moy Thomas inserted another long letter, which had been addressed to him by Mr. F. C. Burnand, referring to his forthcoming burlesque upon Shakespeare’s _Tempest_:―― “I know you are not friendly to burlesques――and probably not to burlesque writers; still, as a critic, as a judge who will have to try the case, it is hardly fair to range yourself on the adverse side, and to make your verdict a foregone conclusion. Patience a moment, and hear――or read. The existence of Robson was an excuse for a burlesque on _Shylock_, and for one on _Macbeth_; also on _Medea_. Now, in looking about for a character, a novelty, for Miss Nelly Farren, who _is_ a genius in _her_ way, as Robson was in _his_――the notion of _an_ Ariel struck me, and the more I considered it the more I liked it. I read the _Tempest_ carefully, and saw how Shakespeare had given the chance of such a view of Ariel as the spirit of enterprise, and had struck the keynote of any amount of fun in the humorous notion of Prospero being absolutely dependent upon his “properties” for his magic power. Evidently he had not had them with him when he was turned adrift by Gonzago in a boat with his child; or rather, as he must have had them with him (according to his own account) they were so packed up he couldn’t get at them; otherwise, where would his enemies have been? Caliban’s one idea was to possess himself of the book. Well, in him I see a backward boy (done out of his rights, by the way), who, however, wants to acquire knowledge, and who does so in the end. How dull Miranda found the island you can judge from her speeches, and from