There has been no novelty at Her Majesty's Theatre this
week—none but the "infinite variety" of Jenny Lind, in the run of La Figlia del Beg- pimento. Even Lablache, with all his real and unapproachable greatness, has seldom other vocation than to sit in a stage-box, shedding the ample light of his admiring countenance on the fair prima donna, and clapping his hands with the power of a steam-engine. On the rare occasions, however, when he is called upon to perform, Lablache seems to concentrate all his energies in the task of maintaining the honour of his name. His Duke- mare, on Saturday last, exhibited new features—not only the rich and racy drollery of the Italian quack, but many nice and delicate traits of good- natured and serious interest in behalf of the little flirt who looked to him for help in the jeopardy of losing her lover.
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