[Illustration:  An awkward moment for Hamlet.  Row with his Mother and Ophelia.]

ACT II.—­Opening Chorus (anything; it doesn’t matter if it’s only pretty and bright).  Enter HAMLET. Solo. “Etre, ou ne pas etre.”  Enter OPHELIA with book, pretends not to see HAMLET. Solo.  Enter Queen.  OPHELIA complains to her that HAMLET isn’t behaving like a gentleman. Queen upbraids HAMLET:  So does OPHELIA:  HAMLET depressed, Exit Queen R.H. Exit OPHELIA L.H.  HAMLET remains, evidently going mad.  PALLADINO looks in.  Dances.  HAMLET joins her.  Enter Friends, Courtiers, Peasants, and other Friends.  All join in ballet, HAMLET included.  Enter Keepers, and HAMLET is taken off to Hanwellhagen.  OPHELIA rushes in, faints.  Curtain.

ACT III.—­Meadows near Hanwellhagen, in Denmark.  Dance of Lunatics, out for a holiday.  To them enter OPHELIA.  All the charming music, delightful, and, this being finished, she chucks herself away into the stream.  Curtain.

Great call for everybody concerned.  And, if the above scheme be adopted, the Opera would be over before eleven, having begun at nine.  I present this with my compliments to DRURIOLANUS and AMBROISE THOMAS; and, if he is not “a doubting THOMAS,” he will try this plan.

The remainder of the week passed away happily, so I hear, but was not able to be in my place, as I was at somebody else’s place far, far away.  The Opera has been, from the first, a big success.  Should like to hear Masaniello once again.  Perhaps that is a treat in store for all of us.  Thus ends the Opera-goer’s Diary for 1890, and everybody is highly satisfied and delighted.  Curtain.

* * * * *

MUSICAL PARADOX.

  When Autumn comes, our womenfolk prepare
  To grind the “old old tune” called “change of air.”

* * * * *

[Illustration:  MRS. HIGHFLYER’S DANCE, 2 A.M.

“AH!  IT’S ALL VERY WELL FOR THE FOOTMEN,—­AND IT’S ALL VERY WELL FOR THE GALS,—­BUT IT’S PRECIOUS ’ARD ON US COACHMEN AND THE PORE MOTHERS!”]

* * * * *

“OUR TURN NOW!”

OR, MR. BULL AND THE WANDERING MINSTRELS.

  Mr. Bull.  Confound these Wandering Minstrels!  Oh, the bore of them! 
    Only just settled with yon tow-hair’d fellow
  Turning the corner, and behold two more of them,
    Prepared to grind and tootle, blow and bellow,
  Until I tip them in a liberal fashion. 
    Upon my word, their noise is something shocking;
  Enough to put a person in a passion. 
    Menaces slighting and remonstrance mocking,
  They stand and twangle, tootle, grind, and gurgle
    Their horrible cacophony.  Find it funny,
  Ye grinners?  Might as well my mansion burgle,