A PAGE FROM AN IMPERIAL NOTE-BOOK.--So far so good. Got rid of the Grand Old Chancellor and the rest of _that_ crew--without much of a row! Been civil to my English Uncle, the Pope and the Democrats. Can't be idle, so what shall I do next? Why not take a trip to America where I might stand for President? If I propose extending trip to Salt Lake, would have to go _en garçon_. Or I might see if I could not get a little further than STANLEY in Africa. When I returned might write a book to be called, _The Extra Deep-Edged Black Continent_. Or why not turn painter? With a little practice would soon cut out all the Old Masters, native and foreign. And if I gave my mind to poetry, why GOETHE and HEINE would be simply nowhere! How about horse-racing? A Berlin Derby Day would make my English cousins "sit up." And sermons, there's something to be done in sermons! I believe I could compose as good a discourse as any of my Court chaplains. And then, possibly, I might be qualified to do that which would satisfy the sharpest craving of my loftiest ambition--_I might write for Punch!_ [So he shall. He shall "write for _Punch_," enclosing stamps, and the Number shall be sent to him by return.--ED.] * * * * * PLAY-TIME. SINCE the first night, if hearsay evidence can be accepted, as I didn't see the _première_, Mr. SUGDEN must have immensely improved his _Touchstone_. He plays it now with much dry, quaint humour, and when I saw him in the part last week, every line told with a decidedly discriminating but appreciative audience. His scenes with that capital _Audrey_, Miss MARION LEA, and with _William_, were uncommonly good. I confess I was surprised. Mr. BOURCHIER--but now an amateur, now thus--gives _Jaques'_ immortal speech of "All the world's a stage," in a thoroughly natural and unconventional manner, chiefly remarkable for the absence of every gesture or tone that could make it a mere theatrical recitation by a modern professional reciter at a pic-nic. Mrs. LANGTRY'S _Rosalind_ is charming, her scenes with _Orlando_ being as pretty a piece of acting as any honest playgoer could wish to see. And what a pretty Lamb is she they call BEATRICE who plays _Phoebe_! What a sweet, gentle, restful play it is! How unlike these bustling times! To witness this idyllic romance as it is put on at the St. James's, is as if one had stepped aside out of "the movement," had bid adieu for a while to the madding crowd, and had plunged into the depths of the forest of Arden, to find a tranquil "society of friends," among whom, under the greenwood tree, one can rest and be thankful.