Sketcher.

Alexandra Herald and Central Otago Gazette, Issue 361, 9 April 1903, Page 7

Sketcher.

•HAMLET ON TOUR. Sjs|N tbe private room of Mr. J. B. Mul--BEB holl&nd at the Metropole Theatre *«g haßgs a photogravure from an oil* painting by the late Fred Barnard. It is called ' Hamlet on Tour,' and is a fine Btudy by a fine artist;« It represents, a long, lean, lanternjawed actor miking up his face by a solitary gaslight. • He is costumed for Hamlet, so far as his body is concerned, for he wears the usual tunic-jacket. The nodding plumes, which are the traditional head-dress of the Piince of Denmark, are there on the tragedian's I e&d, but they look suspiciously like a lady's, hat. A call-boy, half-starved, pops his head in to summon the hero to the stage, but he is not quite ready, for a man with a brush and pot is—painting his legs to make them look like blaok tights ! The picture is funny, but the pathos is present all the time. Indeed, the scene is quite an effecting one, as an illustration of the hard shifts that an aetor is occasionally put to. And hereby .hangs a tale, and Mr. Mulbolland tells it bs illustrating the picture. In seems that a certain actor, or barn-stormer—-call him Harold Montgomery, says Mr. Mulholland—was enitaged by Mr Johnson, proprietor of the Theatre Eoyal Booth, to give his celebrated representation of Hamlet in a country town. The tragedian went, was seen, and conquered His barnstorming eloquence found hosts of admirers, and the Bhow was a triumph. Still in his black, funeral garb, the • Moody Dane ' interviewed Mr. Johnson in his office, where he was counting up the coppers. ' Well, Mr. Johnson,' said the tragedian, ' and has my portrayal of the Prince of Drnmark equalled your expectations ?' 'lt 'as, my dear sir, it 'as.- Very good, nd eed.' :

' And do you, may I ask, meditate placing 'Hamlet' once more in the bills P'

' Shall I put it on again ? Well, yes, I think bo—some time next week, p'r'aps.' The actor shifted his feet. * Would it not be possible to play it for a run P A run—of at least two nights ?' ' A run t How do you mean P' ' Could you not play 'Hamlet to-morrow night, instead of next week V

1 And why, pray P' ' Well, I will be eandid with you. It tappers that my wardrobe has been sadly depleted cf late, and when you engaged me to play the Prince of Benmark I found that I was without the necessary black silken hose. So—l—had —to get a man to paint my legs. And if you could play tbei tragedy to-morrow instead of next week, it would save me washing !'

; A YACHTING STOBY.^ The amusing side of yachting is discussed by Mr. B. Fletcher Eobinson in ' Pearson's Magazine.' Among many good stories is the following . * The etiquette that a yachtsman has to remember is a hard day's work for a man and a boy. Concerning this same etiquette an incident occurred at Cowes some years ago which has been elevated into a whispered tradition It came about in this way. One morning a large steam yacht wandered up, and anchored. She was flying the triangular flag, the burgee of that sedate, elderly and magnificent club, the Boyal Yacht Squadron. 'At once the right eyes of the B.Y.S. mambers on shipboard and ashore were glued to their telesopes. The name of the yacht was ascertained, books were hastily consulted. Horror upon horror grew! The stranger was flying the fbg of a club to which he did not belong. An apopleetic admiral hastily put off to the yacht iu a fast launch. -He discovered that the owner, an American, was innocent of premeditated crime. He had thought it quite a becoming flag, and had hoisted it as such He removed it with apologies ' The next morning, however, breaking in sullen glory over Portsmouth way, found a fresh cause of consternation. The Yankee ship was now flying the flag of the Boyal MacCaiedoniaas. The blue ground with the rampant thistle could have been seen through an eyeglass. The Scotch took the matter seriously, as is Hi. iraus'.m and" Andrew M'Tavish, mff&idlji iigiciung that the costume of modern yachtsman did not include the claymore, or at least a dirk, was rowed in his dinghy, by Walter MacPherpon, A,8., to the offending vessel. The flag of offence was handed down with remarkable celerity. ' The yachting world of Cowes had j ast finished their lunch when a demonstration on board the Yankee sent every man to his telescope. An odd flag had been hoisted. The ground was red and upon it in white were the mystic letters M. O. B. Y. C. Once more boots, were consulted without result. No club was known that could lay claim to those initials. ' Launches and dinghies flew hither and thither. Hard heads were laid together without striking results. -Tne flag was a mystery, a mystery that Cowes could not sleep upon, . unsolved. A deputation waited upon,'the fstranger. This time they were humble, apologetic. It was none of their business, of course; but could he tell them what club was that to which the burgee he flew belonged P ' Waal, fellows,' said he, * I guessed that t was making ycu considerably tirei by my little errors. So I sat right down and composed a flag that I thought could raise no one's hair. Seemingly I was wrong. Anyway, those letters stand for My Own Bally Yacht Club.'