A LADY'S LETTER FROM LONDON.

Te Aroha News, Volume VI, Issue 333, 12 January 1889, Page 4

A LADY'S LETTER FROM LONDON.

(By Et,ise.)

London, November 16. Tiik Lady Mayoress having invited us to lunch with her party in the gorgeous Marie Antoinette suite at the Hotel Metropole, which Alderman Whitehead and his family are temporarily occupying, we saw last Friday's show in luxurious comfort. Deprived of its circus element, the procession seemed to me to grain in dignity whab it lost in effect. This was nob, however, the opinion of the populace, which here and there hissed the Lord Mayor, gracelessly oblivious of the fact that out of the money saved (and £300 which ho had added to it), no fewer tha » ten thousand poor folks were at that moment enjoying a much-needed good dinner. I had never been to the Guildhall banquet on Lord Mayor's Day before, and the oldfashioned ceremonies in connection therewith greatly impressed me. The company began to anive soon after five, and by six all the avenues to the throne room were lined three deep by civic magnates and their good ladies. At a quarter past a tremendous fanfare, of trumpets announced the arrival of the Lady Mayoress with her Maids of Honour. The Lord Mayor surrounded by six Squires in Windsor uniform and supported by the Bccorder the Sheriffs, the ex-Lord Mayor, the Mace Bearers, and sundry other officials, received his wife with gracious dignity, and then a regular procession was formed. This moved slowly along to the throne room between the. lines of bowing and curtseying guests. The Lord Mayor and Lady Mayoress then took their seatson thethrone, surrounded by their squires and maids, and the distinguished guests were introduced. The importance of the coming guest could always be accurately gauged by the favfaren of the trumpeters at the entrance and vi route. The judges, all gorgeously arrayed in full robes, etc., were amongst the last to arrive. The Lord Chief Justice, in scarlet and ermine, looks a very different person to the shabby little gentleman one sometimes sees emei'gingfrom the Law Courts, and the same may said be ot the Master of the Rolls, whose festal attire is particularly sumptuous. Then came Ambassadors, etc., and finally, towards seven, Her Majesty's .Ministers. The guests applaud popular personages, and Mr Balfom (for one) met with a great reception. Lord Salisbury, in a Court suib which had seen better days, and was far too small about the waist, arrived at seven, and was also warmly greeted. Then came dinner, to which 900 persons sat down. Menu-Turtle soup and cold delicacies of various descriptions. Mr and Mrs Whitehead sat together in the centre of a somewhat raided table at the end of the Guildhall, with Her Majesty's Ministers on their right, and the judges on their left. The speeches were a cry dull, and far too numerous. There must have been quite twenty. Later, wo younger folk enjoyed a pleasant little dance in the library, whilst the elders listened to a concert elsewhere. Most people had gone away poon after dinner, so there was plenty of room, and Coote and Tinney's band played divinely. The new Lord Mayor has numerous benoficent projects in his head, and promises to make his year ot office a memorable one. Already a notable scheme for thoroughly md efficiently equipping the volunteers — whose present condition is (from a military point of view) deplorable — has been broached to the delighted authorities.

A Bereaved Comedian. Ifc is barely two years ago since poor old Mr Tool, who is one of the kindliest, most genial, and mosb domestic creatures in the dramatic profession, was completely crushed by the sudden death ot his only son, Frank, a promising young fellow of three and twenty. He would, indeed, have given way altogether but for the ministrations of his sole remaining child, Florence, who was untiring in her efforts to cheer and comiorb both bereaved parents. Ever since Miss 'loolc has accompanied her father overywhere, and this autumn started with him on his usual provincial tour. Sad to say, at Edinburgh, some ten days ago, poor Miss Toole caught typhoid fever, and in a few hours she, too, was dead. Words, I fear, cannot express the sad state of ike unhappy comedian, who has spent his whole life trying to amuse and \distracb other people. Fortunately, he and Mrs Toole are nob without consolers. Mr Justin Huntly McCarthy, who was engaged to Miss Toole, is with them, and will doubtless do his best to fill a son's place. Florence Toole was a bright, charming, self-reliant, and highly gifted girl. She had an uncommon capacity for learning all sorte of languages, European and Asiatic, wa« an omnivorous reader, an expert horsewoman, and no mean artist. She had endless schemes, philanthropic and artistic, in. her head 1 , which were bo be put in operation when she felt she could leave •' Father," and Mr McCarthy had piomised to help her with them. Countless poor families of the shabby-genteel theatrical class blessed the name of Florence Toole, and mourn the loss of their mainstay. Mr Toole himself is very charitable, but even his well-lined pockets were scarcely equal to his daughter's multifarious philanthropies. Besides, Miss Toolo objected to " bothering Father. " She preferred working to provide herself with money, and earned a good deal by writing children's books and doing artistic needlework.

Ne^v Plays. Mr Pettitt's new drama "Hands Across the Sea," written for Mr Chas. Warner's Australian tour, and produced at your end of the world some time ago, was brought out. at the Princesses' on Saturday nighfe last, and achieved a di&tinct success.* Henry Neville plays Warner's part, and Miss Mary Rorkc the hero's plucky and long-suffering wife. Mr Abingdon gives us a villain of the favourite Willard pattern, and the coroic business is chiefly in the hands of Mr E. W. Garden and Miss Webster. The scenery seems to be offective without being specially sensational, and all fche papers praise the terse and -vigorous dialogue. It has taken just a month of theatrical management to exhaust Mr Rutland Barnngton's resources and oblige him to dismiss his company and practically hand over the St. James's to Mr Gilbert. I am told that in that time poor "Pooh-Bah" (as he is affectionately styled by many friends) has dropped nearly £6,000. 'The unlucky "Dean and His Daughter" did not, of course, cost this much to mount;, but the house had to be cleaned and-re-carpeted and redecorated before Mr Barrington opened it. Mr Gilbert is now financing the venture, and his comedy drama, " Brantinghain Grange," will be the next production, What sort of business the Savoy is doing you may gather from the fact that the libraries have boughb up all the stalls and boxes for the nexb three months. You cannot reserve a place at the theatre itself, and the libraries exact Is 6d premium on every seat. The Court is also doing an immense business, and the new burlesque at the Gaiety seems to have struck oil, though the pallid and invertebrate mashers of the Gardenia and Pelican Clubs declare the Gaiety " ain't the Gaiety, don't cher know, without our Nellie."