Miss FAY COMPTON makes astonishing strides. Her _Mary Rose_ had adorable shy movements, caresses, intonations, wistfulnesses. These were traits of _Mary Rose_, not tricks of Miss COMPTON. And they escaped monotony--supreme achievement in the difficult circumstances. Mr. ROBERT LORAINE in the doubled _roles_ of _Mary Rose's_ husband and son, showed a very fine skill in his differentiation of the husband's character in three phases of time and development, and of the son's, with its family likeness and individual variation. Mr. ERNEST THESIGER, who seems to touch nothing he does not adorn, gave a fine rendering of as charming a character as ever came out of the BARRIE box--the superstitious, learned, courteous crofter's son, student of Aberdeen University, temporary boatman and (later) minister. He did his best incidentally, by rowing away without casting off, to corroborate the local legend that the queer little island sometimes disappeared. Miss MARY JERROLD was just the perfect BARRIE mother (of _Mary Rose_). Mr. ARTHUR WHITBY'S parson, Mr. NORMAN FORBES' squire, Miss JEAN CADELL'S housekeeper, left no chinks in their armour for a critic's spleenful arrow. T. * * * * * "It was one of those perfect June nights that so seldom occur except in August." ---- _Magazine._ The result of Daylight-saving, no doubt. * * * * * [Illustration: THE AGE OF UNREST. GRANDMAMMA, WHO HAS BEEN THWARTED, GOES ON HUNGER-STRIKE.] * * * * * [Illustration: SHOCK OF A TRAVELLER LOST IN THE SNOW WHEN HE PERCEIVES THAT HIS RESCUER IS A PUSSYFOOT.] * * * * * THE CONNOISSEUR. No more to bits of china (though I love it), To coloured prints no more my fancy roams, Or all the works of art I used to covet In other people's homes. Old first editions, Sheffield plate and brasses, Weapons of CROMWELL'S time and coats of mail, Gate-tables, QUEEN ANNE chairs and aught that passes For craft of CHIPPENDALE-- Such things no more I spend my hard-earned cash on (Fain though the spirit be, the purse is weak); Yet strong within me burns the ruling passion For anything antique. To haunt the sales for "finds" no more my job is; I've found at length, to satisfy my bent, A wider sphere for this my last of hobbies, Which costs me not a cent; Where I can see my friends possess the treasure Their souls desire, nor envy them for that; My game's to scan my fellow-man at leisure Divested of his hat; Among my own coevals, whom at last Time Is taking by the locks at forty-nine, Searching (a quaint but inexpensive pastime) For balder heads than mine. * * * * * HINTS ON ADVERTISING.