_Revenons_, &c.,
is the watchword in many households. Poultry flies rather high for
the time of year, and grouse is also up. Grice--why not? plural of
mouse, mice--grice, we say, are growing more absent, and therefore
dearer. Black game is not so darkly hued as it is painted, and a few
transactions in wild duck are reported. Lard is hardening, as usual
in frosty weather. Hares are not so mad as in March, still, on the
approach of a passer-by, they go off rapidly. Rabbits, especially
Welsh ones, are now excellent. As Christmas recedes, geese have
stopped laying golden eggs. Turkey (in Europe, at least) is in high
feather. Brill is now in brilliant condition; soles are right down to
the ground, whilst eels begin to show themselves in pairs. Halibut
is cheap, but sackbut is scarce, and psaltery requires such prolonged
soaking before it is fit for the table, that purchasers fight shy of
anything but small parcels. As for plaice, a large dealer tells us he
has been driven to the conclusion that there is "no plaice like home."
* * * * *
We hear of a curious incident in connection with the revival of _Henry
the Eighth_ at the Lyceum. On Saturday night, a gentleman who had
witnessed the play from the Stalls and carefully sat it out, demanded
his money back as he went out.
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