lot at Camelot.”  At end of Third Act MELBA and JEAN DE RESZKE (who must have joined the Salvation Army, as he was, apparently, “saving himself” all the evening) were enthusiastically called.  Engaged in curtseying her thanks, MELBA didn’t notice—­as, how should she?—­property steps behind her, on which, at about her tenth curtsey, she suddenly sat down about two seconds before she could possibly realise that there was any chance of sitting down.  But JEAN LAUNCELOT DE RESZKE was there, and rescued her!  Good Knight!  JEAN DE RESCUE!  Then EDWARD, as Hermit, own brother to Friar Laurence, excellent.  But so were they all, and the Opera will well repay several re-hearings.

Thursday.—­Aida.  Generally considered rather a heavy Opera by VERDI.  “But to-night,” says WAGSTAFF, “the Verdi-ict quite t’other way.”  MAUREL excellent as Amonasro, and MAGGIE MACINTYRE looked, acted, and sang Maggie-nificently.  Uncommonly good was GIULIA RAVOGLI as Amneris, Aida’s rival for the love of the small-sized Radames Dimitresco, or Dimi-nutive-Tresco (comparatively speaking), to whom EDWARD DE RESZKE, being quite a Ned and shoulders taller, might spare some of his superfluous inches.

EDWARD uncommonly good as Ramfis, which name, considering the peculiar make-up, might be appropriately changed to Rum Phiz, and nobody be any the worse.  BEVIGNANI conducted himself and the orchestra admirably; M. PLANCON, in English Plain Song, did all well that as Il Re he had to do, looking every inch a Re, and not a bit Il.  Mlle. BAUERMEISTER was Una Sacerdotissa, but she would be anything and do everything well.  Signer RINALDINI was Un Messagiero.  His costume might have been more effective had Sir AUGUSTUS brought him up to date as a Messenger Boy for the Telephonie-sol-fa Company.  This can be amended.  House good.

Friday.—­Covent Garden, Elaine expected, but didn’t appear.  JOHN THE RISKY, the Launcelot of the Opera, unwell.  “Not Launcelot, but another!” cried Sir DRURIOLANUS, only there wasn’t another.  So Carmen was played.  “Not this Elaine,” continued Sir AUGUSTUS, “but Drur-e-lane.”  So away! to hear the Trumpeter of the German Band.  This Trompeter might be played as a trump in a small house, but ’tis trumpery for Drury Lane.  One phrase of an old music-hall ditty, the words of which were, “She walked forward, I followed on, tra la la!” constantly recur.  Who originated it?  Unwonted excitement of going to two Operas told on shattered frame, so staggered to Maiden Lane, which, on account of its being the home for oysters, crabs, and lobsters, should be renamed Mer-maiden Lane.  Behold! good Dr. BAYLIS “within the Rules” making up his evening prescriptions. “Quis supperabit?” asked the learned Dr. B. “Ego,” replied I, like JEAMES, knowing the language.  And “supper-a-bit” it was. “’84 wachterum unum pintum frigidum sumendum cum ’92 chickeno,” &c.  “My benizon on thee!” said CRITICUS REDIVIVUS.  “Dr. BAYLIS, I bay-liss thee!” with the accent on the “liss.”  So home.  After all the chops and changes of this operatic life, I am with “chicken and champagne” content. Finis coronat opus.