The most Clement of critics, our learned and ever amiable Scotus of the _Daily Telegraph_, speaking with authority from his column last Saturday, recalls to us how many English actors and actresses have successfully played in French on the Parisian stage, and adds to the list the name of MARIE HALTON, who, excellent both in singing and acting as _La Cigale_ at the Lyric, will soon appear at a new theatre in Paris, where she is to "create" French _rôles_--which, Mlle. MARIE, is a very pleasant way of making your bread. But if we have in this actress an English _Chaumont_, why does not some such astute manager as Mr. EDWARDES, the Universal Theatre Provider, induce HALTON to Stay on--here, not only for her own "benefit," but for that of the Light Opera-loving public. [Illustration] * * * * * [Illustration: TRUE HYPERBOLE. _He._ "What a lovely Frock!... _Worth_, I suppose?" _She._ "MONSIEUR WORTH IS DEAD." _He._ "Ah! it _looks_ as if it came from Heaven!"] * * * * * THE OLD CHIEFTAIN'S FAREWELL. ["The impending Dissolution brings into its practical and final form the prospective farewell which I addressed last year to the constituency of Midlothian."--_Mr. Gladstone's Farewell Letter to the Electors of Midlothian._] AIR--_Burns's "The Farewell."_ It was a' for our Glorious Cause I sought fair Scotland's strand; It was a' for fair, rightfu' laws To bless the Irish land, My dear; To bless the Irish land. Now a' is done that man could do, And a' seems done in vain, My loved Midlothian, farewell, I mauna stand again, My dear; I canna stand again. For fifteen lang an' happy years, That ne'er may be forgot, We have foregathered, loved, and fought. Fare farther I may not, My dear; Fare farther may I not. Yet say not that our love has failed, Or that our battle's lost; Were I yet young I'd fight again, And never count the cost, My dear; And never count the cost. Tegither we've won mony a fight, You following where I led; But now late Winter's chilling snows Are gatherin' round my head, My dear; Are gatherin' round my head. And times will change, and Chieftains pass. Lang time I've borne the brunt Of war; and now I'm glad to see CARMICHAEL to the front, My dear; Sir TAMMY to the front. A champion stout, I mak nae doubt, He'll carry on my task. To see ye braw and doing weel, Henceforth is a' I ask. My dear; Henceforth is a' I ask. True Scot am I--Midlothian's heart I won. Now I fare far, And leave a younger chieftain, TAM, To lead the Lowland war, My dear; To lead the Lowland war! * * *