SIR,--"I'm all the way from Westminster," and the work I have to do is to let you know about the Latin play performed there. PLAUTUS, in truth, is not a wildly exciting writer, and there is in the _Trinummus_ a tameness which, extending, as it does, through five acts, becomes almost oppressive at the end. The young actors looked well and enunciated clearly, and one of them, Mr. J. F. WATERS, showed considerable ability as an actor. But we don't go to the College of St. Peter at Westminster merely to see the play. There are other interests. It is pleasant to watch the Old Westminsters rubbing recollections with one another between the acts, and endeavouring gallantly during the performance to keep their rusty Latin abreast of the various situations. Laughter in a Latin play straggles. It is like a dropping fire of musketry. A Westminster master probably leads it off; various intelligent veterans take it up dutifully, and the ladies, bless their unlatinised minds, follow faintly towards the end. If a London manager wants applause in his theatre let him hire a contingent of small Westminster boys. They have attained to absolute perfection in the arts of the _claque_. At no Paris Theatre is it better done. The epilogue showed a pretty wit and a high degree of skill in the management of hexameter and pentameter. No one could have believed that the Kodak advertisement, "you press the button, we do the rest," would have made so good a Latin line. Much pleased, and so to bed. Yours, A VAGRANT. * * * * * "A MERE QUESTION OF TIME."--_Example:_ "What o'clock is it?" * * * * * [Illustration: OUR "HOUSE PARTY" AT CHRISTMAS.] * * * * * NEW YEAR'S EVE AT LATTERDAY HALL. (_An Incident._) SCENE I.--_Library in Latterday Hall_, Sir LYON TAYMER'S _Country House_. Sir LYON TAYMER _discovered fuming by the mantelpiece, while his_ Secretary _is glancing over some correspondence_. _Sir Lyon_ (_irritably_). Here--I suppose you will have to answer this. _Secretary._ What is that, Sir LYON? _Sir Lyon._ You know how anxious I am that my New Year's party should be a success. A whole heap of celebrities are coming, and, notwithstanding the immense expense, I engaged a party of Ghosts to amuse them. Now I have just had a telepathic communication from these Shadows of Shades--(that's all they are--only Ghosts of departed heroes and heroines in fiction)--asking whether they're to be treated on an equality with the other guests, or as mere entertainers! Did you ever hear of such impertinence! The spokesman--I should say, perhaps, the Spooksman--is, of all people in the other world, the VICAR OF WAKEFIELD. A clergyman too! It's quite inconsistent; and so snobbish!