I should hesitate to accuse Mr. RONALD JEANS of originality in the design of his musical trifle at the Comedy. The idea of a company of women that bans the society of men is at least as old as the Attic stage. But it is to his credit that though the theme invited suggestiveness he at least avoided the licence of _The Lysistrata_. Indeed there were moments when his restraint filled me with respectful wonder. Thus, though the Pacific Island to which the Junior Jumper Club retired--with no male attendant but the Club porter--clearly indicated a bathing scene, yet we had to be satisfied with an occasional glimpse of an exiguous _maillot_ with nobody inside it. In fact, the fun throughout had a note of reserve and was never boisterous. Mr. JACK BUCHANAN'S quiet methods in the part of the _Hon. Bill Malcolm_, universal philanderer, lent themselves to this quality of understatement. In a scene where he tried to extricate himself from a number of coincident entanglements with various members of the Club he was quite amusing without the aid of italics. Mr. GILBERT CHILDS, again, as _Weekes_--Club porter and _Admirable Crichton_ of the island--though a little broader in his style, was too clever to force the fun. The other sex, as was natural with women who affected a serious purpose, had fewer chances, and Miss PHYLLIS MONKMAN spoilt hers by a bad trick of hunching her shoulders and waggling her arms as if she were out for a cake-walk on Montmartre. There were touches of humour in Mr. CUVILLIER'S tuneful music and in the limited movements of the best-looking chorus that I have seen for a long time. As for the plot, it had at least the merit of continuity and conformed to the logic, seldom too severe, of this kind of entertainment, as distinct from the so-called _revue_. Nearly everything was well within my intelligence, the chief exception being the title; for never surely did a wild-goose chase offer such easy sport. The birds were just asking to be put into the bag. I should myself have preferred, out of compliment to the chorus, to call the play "Wild Ducks," only, of course, IBSEN had been there before. Not that this would have greatly troubled an author who showed so little regard for the proprietary rights of ARISTOPHANES and Sir JAMES BARRIE. O.S. * * * * * WITCHES. "Finns, they're witches," said Murphy, "'tis born in 'em maybe, The same as fits an' freckles an' follerin' the sea, An' ginger hair in some folks--an' likin' beer in me. "Finns, they're witches," said Murphy, "an' powerful strong ones too; They'll whistle a wind from nowhere an' a storm out o' the blue 'Ud sink this here old hooker an' all her bloomin' crew. "Finns, they're witches," said Murphy, rubbing his hairy chin, "An' some counts witchcraft bunkum, an' some a deadly sin, But--there ain't no harm as I see in standing well with a Finn." C.F.S. * * * * * OUR CYNICAL PRESS.