It is a subject for curious reflection that, just when the comic scenes of our English Pantomime have been crushed out by overpowering weight of gorgeous spectacle, there should re-appear in our midst a revival of the ancient _Pierrot_ who pantomimed himself into public favour with the Parisians towards the close of the seventeenth century. Red-hot poker, sausages, and filching Clown have had their day, and lo! when everyone said we were tired of the "comic business" of Pantomime, here in our midst re-appear almost in their habits as they lived, certainly with their white faces and black skull-caps "as they appeared," a pair of marvellously clever Pierrots. Mlle. JANE MAY as _Pierrot Junior_, "the Prodigy son," and M. COURTÈS as _Pierrot Senior_, are already drawing the town to _Matinées_ at the Prince of Wales's, causing us to laugh at them and with them in their joys, and to weep with them in their mimic sorrows. Yes! _Pierrot redivivus!_ Mind you, it is not a piece for children; make no mistake about that; _they_ will only laugh at the antics, be ignorant of the story, and be untouched by its truth and pathos. All are good. We like the naughty _blanchisseuse_ the least of the characters, and wish she had been _plus petite que ça_. But is it not in nature that the prodigal infant (veritable boy is Mlle. JANE MAY) should fall in love with a young woman some years his senior, and far beyond him in experience of the world? Why certainly. Then the Baron, played with great humour by M. LOUIS GOUGET, who wins the Mistress with his diamonds, and the inimitable Black Servant, M. JEAN ARCUEIL, who laughs at poor little _Pierrot_, and cringes to his wealthy rival and successor,--are they not both admirable? As for the acting of Madame SCHMIDT as _Madame Pierrot_, loving wife and devoted mother, it is, as it should be, "too good for words." Her pantomimic action is so sympathetic throughout, so--well, in fact, perfect. Who wants to hear them speak? _Facta non verba_ is their motto. Yet with what _gusto_ the Black, heavily bribed, mouths out the titled Baron's name, though never a syllable does he utter! It is all most excellent make-believe. _Vive Pierrot à Londres!_ We see him much the same as he was when he delighted the Parisians in 1830,--"_Avec sa grand casaque à gros boutons, son large pantalon flottant, ses souliers blancs comme le rests, son visage enfariné, sa tête couverte d'un serre-tête noir ... le véritable Pierrot avec sa bonhomie naïve ... ses joies d'enfant, et ses chagrins d'un effet si comique_"--and also so pathetic.