As to the performance, it was Oriental; and no description can convey much more. We had an Overture on the familiar "Rum-tum-tum, tum-a-tum-tum-tum, tum-a-tum" theme, which revealed considerable "staying power" on both sides of the footlights. Then one member of the _troupe_ after another advanced, and, if a lady, _chassé_'d and revolved with slowly waving arms, and an expression that seemed to imply that she would take more pains if it were only worth while; if a man, he capered and grinned and shouted in a manner which, at all events, infinitely amused the performer himself. While this was going on, the old lady continued to "spank"--there really is no better term for it--her drum in a sort of grim _rêverie_, and a young person by her side emitted piercing shrieks by way of enlivening the proceedings. There was a mysterious One on the stage, who reminded me of an immense dice-box muffled in muslin; this, it turned out, was the COLOSSUS of SOUSSE, to whom was entrusted the function of "presenting" Mademoiselle FATMA at the close of the performance. This seemed superfluous, particularly as the excellent Colossus had no notion of doing more than taking her by the hand and stalking two paces forward. It was all over in a quarter of an hour or so; and, for my own part, I considered the old lady in the turban alone worth the paltry shilling charged for admission.
I have also been to TERRY'S Theatre, where great precautions are taken to prevent fire. Everything, more or less, is labelled "Exit," and, instead of doors, in several parts of the house there are curtains. On the whole it must be a good theatre to escape from. This is worth noting, if the performances are wearisome.
In Memory's mystical hazes I see a vast Gander and grey, I see the small boy that he chases At the head of a hissing array: How I wept when they brought me to bay, How I pleaded in vain for a truce! Too frightened to shoo them away, I could never say Boh to a Goose!
I have lived through a number of phases, I have rhymed of the grave and the gay, But the clatter of critical phrases, But the moralist armed for the fray, I have fled in unseemly dismay, Since the Gander--'tis all my excuse-- For, in brief, since that terrible day-- I could never say Boh to a Goose!