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The last scene was the Celebration of the Nuptials of King Cavendish and the lovely Irene, their hands being joined by a religious functionary of a most venerable aspect, a snow-white beard descending to his girdle, but of somewhat equivocal denomination. If any fault should be found with an inexperienced though talented author, in respect of calling the minister who performed the marriage ceremony a high priest, and dressing him in Judaical rather than Christian vestments, she would offer as an excuse the observation which a lady, famous for her lisp, once made when speaking of the late Lord Lytton: “We mutht make allowantheth for the ecthentrithiteh of geniuth.”

So fell the curtain on three first appearances, amidst the deafening and enthusiastic applause of an audience composed of very different ingredients; for the Admiral was there and his family, the clergyman and doctor with their wives, the Officer in Command of the garrison, and many other members of the highest importance and standing in the dockyard, as well as minor officials, warders, boat’s crew, and domestic servants, etc.