sions they shall mean exactly the positions shown in the figure. In other cases, we shall define the point of the red struck, by the angle formed by the line of direction and the common diameter, as explained in Section 2. As it will be useful to know the angle formed thus in the three cases we have represented, we may point out that each of these angles is the same as that made by their common diameter respectively and R W. We may consider R A, RB and R C as radii of a circle, having a diameter twice as great as R. Taking this radius as 1, the sine of the angle A R W is equal to R S, or one-quarter. The sine of the angle BRW is equal to R T, or one-half, and the sine of the angle CR W is equal to R U, or three-quarters. Referring to a table of natural sines, we find the angles corresponding to these to be 14 deg. (three-quarter ball), 30 deg. (half ball), and 483 deg. (quarter ball)

SECTION 12.-CURVATURE OF LINE OF DIRECTION.

There is one other point before entering in the examination of the angle produced by each of these changes of condition, about which we must say a few words. We have hitherto assumed that the line of direction-that is, the path followed by white after leaving the cue-is always along a straight line, and this is rigorously true when struck anywhere in the perpendicular diameter B A C (Fig. 1). It is also so nearly true in most other cases in which the cue is held horizontally that we may in general neglect it; but there is one stroke in which it is of some apparent importance-that is, when a very gentle sharp side stroke is made, and the red at a considerable distance. Then the line of direction is slightly curved, with the concavity of the curve towards the side at which white was struck. The greatest amount of deviation from the line of direction at starting rarely exceeds an inch with a horizontal cue. When the masse is played with side, it frequently amounts to six or eight inches. On English tables it is very apparent, when the white, being under a cushion, the cue must be inclined to the table, and when the player, notwithstanding, attempts to give slow side. In ordinary half ball gentle strokes, with side, it alters the angle and the part of the red struck, and so has the appearance of diminishing the angle of deviation of white, a misconception which often leads practical players to imagine that a slow inner side will diminish the angle of divergence in half ball strokes.

SECTION 13.-CLASSIFICATION OF STROKES.

As we have before stated, every change in any of the conditions, the others remaining the same, causes a different result after the collision of white upon red. This would involve a very long and tedious examination, if we were not able to simplify the inquiry by a few general considerations. First, it may be noted that the result of all the strokes made within the circumference of the circle B E C D (Fig. 1) may be obtained by striking on the circumference, the centre stroke excepted. The peculiar effect of each stroke is lessened as the cue is aimed nearer the centre, but it may equally be lessened by playing with less sharpness. In either of these ways, the proportion of rotatory to direct motion may be diminished. It is therefore only necessary to consider the centre stroke, and those made on the circle BEC D. We may also leave out of the question, for the present, the strokes marked F, G, L and M (Fig 1). These strokes are combinations of side with follow or screw, and are used only to produce certain desirable effects after touching a cushion, or on entering a contracted pocket. The low strokes at a, H and K are used to counteract the effects of friction, and to produce the dead stroke which we have explained (Section 10) to have the same effect on a distant ball that a true centre stroke has upon one close to it. We may therefore confine our attention, for the present, to the centre stroke (in which we include the dead stroke), side, screw and follow. The centre, or dead stroke, we will always understand to be played with the degree of strength or sharpness necessary to avoid rotatory motion at the moment of striking. Screw we shall always consider as played with sharpness, which is indeed absolutely essential to produce the effect desired, and the strength should generally lie between gentle and medium, unless the red is so far away that a strong stroke is necessary to preserve the back rotation. In such cases however it is rarely good policy to attempt any stroke that requires screw. The follow must be examined with every degree of strength, as it and the high stroke are by far the most important to the Billiard player, as we shall see further on.

SECTION 14.-STRAIGHT STROKES.

In considering the angles produced by all the different strokes, it will be most convenient to take the simplest cases first. The direction of the red after being struck, we have already examined (Section 5), and found it to be in the direction of the common diameter, with a very small correction owing to imperfect elasticity; our attention then may be confined to the white ball only. When the red is struck straight with a true centre or dead stroke, the whole motion of white is transferred to it, and white remains on the spot which red occupied. It is true that if the stroke be exactly what we have said, the white does advance beyond this point for an inch or two ( of its momentum remaining), but as the additional sharpness necessary to prevent this is very insignificant, the term dead stroke is used in this one case when such additional sharpness is given. A straight stroke, with screw, causes the white to return along the path by which it advanced. The distance or velocity with which it returns depends far more upon the sharpness than the strength of the stroke. The screw, as we have seen, is a combination in white of direct motion and back rotation. The direct motion, however great, in no way affects the movement of white after straight impact. It is to the rotatory motion alone its return is owing, and in playing screw strokes the aim of the player should be to give as much of this

rotation as possible, and to economise the strength usually expended on giving a direct motion to white. Of course enough direct motion must be given to carry the white to the red before the back rotation is spent or destroyed by friction, but there is no great necessity to insist on this point, for the fault of the beginner is invariably to play screws with too great strength. He now knows why strength will not assist him in his object, even in straight strokes, and in a future section it will be shown how it tells against him in oblique strokes. In fact, the whole object of the masse (to which we have frequently referred, as in use in the French game) is to destroy, by a somewhat clumsy device, as much as possible of the direct motion of white, while preserving the greatest possible amount of rotation. A straight stroke, with follow, causes the white to follow after the red along the same line-the line of direction-but the greatest amount of follow we can give will not cause it to move with quite half the velocity of red. We have seen that all strokes have a tendency to turn the follows, owing to the friction of the table, and in many cases it is better to obtain the effects of follow from a low or centre stroke than a high one. For instance, it is always better to play what is called a long six at Billiards, by striking white true centre. (The long six is made by putting the red into a corner pocket, from a distance, and following after it.) By striking true centre you can take better aim, strike truer and harder, the white will run truer, and the effect of follow is obtained as perfectly for the purpose as if white had been struck high above the centre.

DRAMATIC NOTES.

ALTHOUGH Easter Monday has, like Boxing Day, ceased to be an occasion for the production of special novelties at the theatres, it still remains a division between the winter and spring seasons. Managers who have not been prosperous seize this opportunity to close their doors, without conspicuously parading their failure; the Adelphi produces a new melodrama; the opera houses, the Crystal Palace, and the various suburban gardens, begin to exercise a successful rivalry against the theatres; and London companies are sent out to overrun the provinces. Few are aware of the extent to which the country is now fed from London, with the newest plays and the most popular performers. The Wicked World is travelling about, and Miss Wilton is about to send out a Man and Wife company, and amongst the well-known actors and actresses away from London are Messrs. Charles Mathews, Toole, Sothern (in America), Barry Sullivan, Bandmann and Rignold; Mesdames Vezin, Neilson (in America), Ada Dyas, Rose Leclercq, Marriott, Beatrice and Glyn. If we add to this list the names of Mr. Phelps and Mr. Vezin, who are not acting at present, and those of Mr. and Mrs. Wigan, who have retired, it will be seen that London has rather the worst of the bargain. It may be some consolation to the metropolis to remember that it still retains its Tom Taylor, who, released from the cares and anxieties of the Local Board, announces that he now has leisure to devote himself to "æsthetics." Accordingly, he has made arrangements with the directors of the Crystal Palace, by which he is to conduct performances of Shakspeare at Sydenham; the first play chosen being Hamlet, which is to be presented on the first Saturday in May. It may appear odd at first sight why people should have to go to Sydenham to see a proper performance of Hamlet, but speculation ceases when we learn, from Mr. Tom Taylor's proclamation, that he is to look after the scenery, the dresses, the acting and the correctness of the text. He is to be manager,

costumier, prompter-in fact, showman. We much doubt whether the average audience which gather together at the Crystal Palace, or the season ticket holders-whose object in going there appears to be that of reading novels and working slippers, or of airing their best clothes, according to sex; we much doubt, we say, whether these will appreciate Mr. Taylor's æsthetics. But if a man is devoted to art, and has a liberal pension, he is certainly entitled to produce Hamlet when and where he pleases. The name of the gentleman whom Mr. Taylor has chosen for the chief character is not known to us, and it is to be hoped that Mr. Taylor has found a histrionic pearl of greater value, in Mr. Mackaye, than when he brought the pretty Mrs. Rousby from the Channel Islands. Returning to London, we find that the managers of the French Plays, which promise to become a permanent institution in London, have removed their head-quarters to the Princess's, after a very successful winter campaign at the Royalty. It is to be hoped that this settling down amongst us will have a sobering effect on certain of our critics, who, in the most inconsistent manner, are accustomed to call that white in French which they term black in English. To what length a critic whose judgment is blinded by prejudice will go, may be learnt by a perusal of the Athenæum of 29th March. This journal, as is well known, is held to be the principal literary periodical in London, and the articles in it are written by gentlemen carefully selected for their excellence in their respective walks. On the 29th of March, the writer of the dramatic article had occasion to notice Tricoche et Cacolet, a play which was lately received with great favour at the Royalty. The fact is not disguised that the play is broad and immoral, and our critic himself declares that it would be intolerable in English. But, as it is presented in French, he goes out of his way, for he is not called upon to be its advocate, to find a score of excuses for it. The sole end, says the critic, of the

So.

authors of the farce is to produce a laugh at the sacrifice of anything, and a permission to overleap the conventions of society has always been conceded to farce writers. He describes the plot, and adds that he is glad to see the piece in an English theatre. The public must be its own arbiter in these matters (what then is the use of a critic?) and the "educated public accepts a play of this kind, and is uninjured by it." Exactly The educated public, that is, the critic and his friends, rather prefer a play of this kind to any other, and little injury will be done to their elastic notions of morality; but the uneducated public is to pay the piper, and bring their shillings to the theatre, in order that the educated public may enjoy their doses of nastiness gratis. The Athenæum critic is more French than the French themselves, for, about the same time that he penned his glowing manifesto on behalf of Triceche et Cacolet, a French gentleman writes to The Times, to complain, on behalf of his country, of the inferior specimens of its dramatic literature produced at the Royalty. He professes astonishment at the indiscriminate eulogy of the English press given to plays which are neither respectful to the public nor profitable to the student; and he roundly hints that the critics know little of what they write about. And he sums up Tricoche et Cacolet, and other plays produced at the Royalty, by saying, "la grossièreté, du langage est aussi flagrante que l'inferiorité litteraire." What, then, is the deduction from all this? The dramatic critic of the leading literary journal in London writes eloquently and copiously on behalf of a French play which he himself acknowledges to be immoral, and which is stated by a Frenchman to hold no place in Paris, even as a literary production. It is as if M. Jules Janin were to devote pages of eulogium to the excellence of an Alhambra comic ballet.

It would seem that a haphazard prophecy, thrown out by us in these pages some time ago, is about to be realised, and that the coming together of burlesque and opera bouffe has resulted in the birth of musical farce. It has indeed been long obvious that the monotonous repetition of break-down and music-hall vulgarities in burlesque have been played out, and the tedious dullness of opera bouffe was no satisfactory substitute. It is the fashion just now to go to the Philharmonic, in Islington, for opera bouffe, but we fear that the golden youths who have been lured thither have little recollection of the visit beyond that of vigorous yawning. Why not then, it was suggested, take the humour of farce, and engrafting on it the pleasantness of Offenbachian music, thus present to the public old friends with new faces. The Strand Theatre, which has done its best to reduce burlesque to irritating dullness, has wisely adopted the policy we have mentioned, and, by so doing, has probably restored its fortunes. Mr. Farnie, who is to this kind of dramatic entertainment what Mr. Halliday is to Scott and Dickens, has provided the Strand with a piece entitled Nemesis, which he calls a bouffonerie musicale, but which is neither more nor less than the old "farce with songs," adapted to the tastes of the day. The music is French, and the manner of dressing is French; but the fun is after the English pattern, and is well rendered by Mr. E. Terry, who in his own person combines the abilities formerly exhibited at the Strand by Messrs. James and Thorne. The example thus set at the Strand will no doubt be widely followed, and it is quite possible that many old English farces, which were popular in the times when the public went to the theatre at seven o'clock, will be transformed into bouffoneries musicales, and reproduced on the stage. The greatest difficulty will be to obtain actors who can sing, for it is rare to find a comedian blessed with so correct an ear for music as Mr. Terry; but music exercises so large a sway over theatrical affairs at this moment that the difficulty may be overcome. Indeed, it is to be feared that not only farce, but tragedy, comedy, and drama of all kinds, is about to be overladen and swamped with orchestral accompaniments. Most of us are lovers of music, but we prefer to hear it, either vocal or instrumental, at the opera or Exeter Hall. Many too, if not most of us, give a higher place to the drama than to music, the former being an intellectual, the latter chiefly a sensual pleasure. And yet there is not a play produced, from Hamlet down to Jack Sheppard, but the best portions are spoiled by an intrusive tum-tum from the orchestra. Mr. Irving, at the best of times, is not a very distinct speaker, but in parts of Eugene Aram his voice is completely drowned-for those who are near the orchestra--by the wailing of the fiddle, and the grunting of the double bass. We submit that if the thing is done at all, it should be done so quietly as to be almost unheard. As it is, spoken dialogue promises to become inaudible on the stage save to a few, and our theatres should at once be turned into opera houses. As for Shakspeare, he would tell best under such circumstances in St. Pauls Cathedral, and Hamlet intoned, with a minor canon in the title rôle, would have a fine effect.

Eugene Aram was amongst the first historical criminals that this and the last generation have whitewashed. Hood in his poem, Lord Lytton in his novel, and now Mr. Wills in his play, have all sought to throw a halo of romance round the murderer, and, in their zeal, have sadly falsified history. As a matter of fact Aram was over 50 years old, when the murder was discovered, and had then been married for 25 years. He was tried, condemned, and executed, after an ineffectual attempt to kill himself in prison. If he had lived in these days, and had killed his wife, half a dozen doctors would have certified to his insanity, as it is not considered etiquette now to hang a man of great learning. Lord Lytton and Mr. Wills, to suit their purposes, make Aram a handsome man, in the prime of life, and possessed, just before the discovery, of the affections of a young and charming lady. But here the two authors part company, for Lord Lytton, wisely we think, follows history so far as to have Aram tried and executed, and leaves it so as to omit all mention of a previous love, or a previous wife, thereby making the new love the more interesting. Now Mr. Wills makes his hero die, on a tombstone, in a country churchyard, in utter defiance of history, and the story of his first wife is introduced just where it

should not be, that is, when he is pouring his confession into the ears of the girl that loves him. This jars the only piece of sympathetic interest in the play, and Mr. Wills should either have made Aram confess himself to a male friend, or invent him a new reason for killing Clarke. But though both unscrupulously distort history, Eugene Aram is a better constructed play than Charles I., which indeed could not be called a play, but a series of tableaux. Eugene Aram is in three acts, and lasts two hours in representation; the scene is laid in and about the same house, and the action is comprised in the space of 12 hours; there are but five characters, and the curtain falls with two persons on the stage. Nothing can be more simple and straightforward than this, and the dialogue and soliloquies are full of grace and beauties of language. Such a play, and such acting as that of Mr. Irving, should be seen by all playgoers, whether they are interested in it or not, for the merits of anything in art-a church, a bridge, a book, picture or play-should be determined by their fulfilling of certain conditions, and not by their mere prettiness. Whether Eugene Aram will be as popular as Charles I. is doubtful. Ladies, who are influential playgoers, prefer to cry than to shudder, and the last Act of Eugene Aram, besides reminding the spectators of The Bells, is undoubtedly shuddery. There is an air of heaviness over the whole play, with the exception of one all too brief scene, in the second Act, where Aram defies Houseman. This was admirably done by Mr. Irving, in a new style, and with a voice as clear as a bell. Unhappily he gets indistinct in the closing scene. We presume that when a gentleman is about to give up the ghost his accents do become a trifle husky, but if Mr. Wills can falsify history at his pleasure, owing to "dramatic exigencies," surely Mr. Irving can indulge us with the illusion of dying with a healthy man's voice. The Adelphi, which, as we have said, celebrates Easter with a new melodrama, has been more fortunate than usual, in the production of an adaptation of the Wandering Jew. Those who have read the novel will understand that to those who have not, a dramatised version of it will be completely unintelligible; but this signifies little at the Adelphi, where the audience prefer strong situations to a coherent story. The legend of the undying Jew is not generally known, and that hero is evidently looked upon at the Adelphi as the father of the two young orphans. This however matters little, as the author has done his work skilfully, and takes care to wind up each act with an effective situation. That at the end of the second act, where the wife of Dagobert, under priestly influence, refuses to tell her husband where the orphans-whom he has been at such pains to bring to Paris-are concealed, is intensely dramatic, and deserves a better setting. It could not receive better treatment than at the hands of Mr. Fernandez, whose acting throughout the play is very good indeed. The rest of the company made up for lack of acting by an abundance of shrieking and howling, which caused the Adelphi roof to ring again with the Babel of sounds. Every pitch of voice is there, from the guttural growl of Mr. McIntyre, to the shrill screech of Mr. Shore. Mr. Webster must be excepted from this category, for he is mostly inaudible, and his efforts to speak cause him as much trouble as the figures in the Budget speech do to Mr. Lowe. We must repeat, once more, that it is positively painful to watch him on the stage. There can be no necessity for him to appear, as his popularity has gone; few in the audience know him, and the rest laugh at him. We do not suppose that his appearance in the Wandering Jez has any ironical reference to his own prolonged wanderings on the stage, but it is sad to see the once powerful actor become, in his old age, and by his own act, the sport of fools, and the pity of the wise.

Mr. Byron has written a new play for the Globe Theatre, entitled Fine Feathers, which must rank amongst the very worst of his productions. In writing of Old Soldiers, in the February number, we said that there was not a situation nor an incident in it that had not done duty in a score of Mr. Byron's plays. But Fine Feathers goes far beyond Old Soldiers, and there is not a stale or worn out idea to be found in the whole history of melodrama that is not reproduced in one or other of the four Acts. There is a long-lost heir, a change of infants at birth, a very unnatural and thoroughly transpontine picture of the relation between two sections of society, cavesdropping behind curtains and windows, and in the last Act an ineffably mysterious stranger, who steps in to make things right. We are introduced in the prologue to a land agent who is a scoundrel, and to a lawyer who is a paragon of honesty; but before the last Act has arrived, and for no assigned reason, the lawyer has become a scamp, and the agent a model of goodness and amiability. The whole thing looks very like a practical joke, and it is perhaps lucky for Mr. Byron that the audience on the first night were too kind to him, and overlooked his offences of construction in the lively nature of his dialogue, and in that unexceptionable moral tone which characterises all his plays. The Globe has long been in want of a success, but we fear it has not found it in Fine Feathers, a play more suited to the Surrey than to a theatre which aims at the presentation of high comedy. But it has been at least the means of affording an opportunity for a young actor to show the good stuff he is made of. This is Mr. E. W. Garden, who, long known to the few as an actor capable of better things than have been given to him, has, in Fine Feathers, made his mark on the many headed public. He represents a circus clown, conceived in the vein of Mr. Byron's tragedian in Two Stars, and makes the character life like, by his fidelity to nature, and quaint facial movements.

ANSWERS TO CORRESPONDENTS.