Three more acts follow. ULRIC makes a dozen wishes, all of which are gratified, and all of which have the inevitable effect of transporting him into scenes pervaded by the female leg to an extent that easily reconciles him to the successive loss of five years of his life. He finally becomes King of Egypt, and, after having fought against the Crusaders in defence of those well-known Mohammedan gods, ISIS and OSIRIS, is carried down a trap by exulting demons. An Intolerable Comic Man opens up hitherto unknown wastes of dreariness, and sings a comic song that is positively more tedious than an article from the _Nation_. The Demoniac Servant is continually shot up through spring traps, in order to remark, "Ha! ha!" and to immediately disappear again. The Aged Mother travels from Flanders to Egypt without changing her dress or combing her back hair, for the vain purpose of begging "ULLERIC" to repent. Consumptive Knights fight terrific broad-sword duels with a thirst for combat that beer alone is subsequently able to allay. The Virtuous HEROINE displays a very neat pair of ankles, but without winning "ULLERIC" from the devil of his ways. Half a dozen ballets are successively introduced, in which the skirts of the dancers are seen to decrease as rapidly and steadily as the stripes on ULRIC'S magic collar. Finally, a grand Transformation Scene, which has nothing whatever to do with the play, exhibits the best legs of the company in the most favorable attitudes, and the green baize curtain falls upon the great spectacle of the day. _Virtuous Matron._ "Well, I never! It's positively indecent. I'd like to take a whip to those shameless hussies." _Sceptical Husband._ "PAGE offered me a proscenium box the other day. Suppose we take it to-morrow night?" _Virtuous Matron._ "I'll go to please you, my dear. And really the scenery is pretty." _Wretched Man, who is shameless enough to admit that he likes it._ "I like it. The ballet's good, the scenery is splendid, and the music might be worse. Why don't these ladies, who come here and sit it through, have the honesty to admit that they come because they like it? But no; they go away, and at the next party, where they wear dresses lower in the neck than any I've seen on the stage to night, they'll abuse the poor girls who have danced here for their amusement. Their malignant modesty does not deserve the respect of an intelligent _figurante_. If they are sincere, why do they come here?" Which question still puzzles the perturbed mind of _MATADOR_. Give 'em Rope. We clip the following from the _Express_: "There seem to be more legal loopholes for convicted murderers to escape through than for any other class of criminals." That is too true, by a great deal. There should be but one "legal loophole" for a convicted murderer, and the authorities should not let him escape through the loop of it—they should Knot.