without much of the tune—

the remainder of which the Baron had never heard, even in his earliest childhood.

So it was a quarter of an hour of inspiration, musical and poetic, and, at its expiration, Dr. MARK TAPLEY, as the Baron declared he must henceforth be called, announced that there was nothing for it but to make the Baron a close prisoner in his own castle, where he would have to live up to the mark, as if he were to be shown, a few months hence, at a prize cattle-show, among other Barons of Beef.

"Champagne Charley is your name, so is Turtle soup, so is succulent food, and plenty of it. Generally provision the fortress, and withstand the assaults of the enemy. If a bacillus creeps in through a loophole, knock him on the head with the best champagne at hand, and, if you're not worse in a day or two, you'll be better in a week! Au revoir!" Exit Dr. MARK TAPLEY.

And so the Baron remained within, and sent for his books, and above all One of Our Conquerors, by "The GEO. M.," who is the CARLYLE of Novelists. The first volume was missing. In a few days it had returned. The first chapters, however, seemed still wandering. But the Baron was better, and could follow them slowly, though not without effort, wondering whither he was being led. When he arrives at Chapter VII., unless the novelist ceases to meander, the Baron will exclaim with Hamlet, "Speak! I'll go no further!" Yet, 'tis marvellous clever and entertaining withal.

Perhaps there will be a vacation after this attack of Miss Influenza on the unfortunate Baron. Alas! for the present, it is La Donna Influenza who is "One of Our Conquerors!"

This morning, after a fortnight of it, the Baron was about to announce that he was better, but at the outset he paused, corrected himself, and, tapping the breakfast-table with his fork, he exclaimed, "Beroofen!"

Moral.—Be quite sure you're out of the wood, though maybe you were never in it, and even then don't congratulate yourself. "Mumm"'s the word (so's "Pommery" also by the way, not forgetting "Greno," all such being excellent Fizzic for the Epidemic), as to your state of health, and don't forget the charm—"Beroofen!"

SUMMER !

(Sketched, in metrical spasms, by a Sufferer therefrom.)

Damp days,     Chill nights; Morning haze,     Evening blights; Grey skies,     Sodden earth;	Cramped cricket,     Arctic squall; Drenched wicket,     Soaked ball; Park a puddle.     Row a slough;	Eaves dropping,     Red noses; Pools, splashes,     Spouts, spirts; Swollen sashes.     Gutters, squirts;
Butterflies     Weak at birth; Gloom over,     Grime under; Soaked clover.     Hail, thunder; Wind, wet,     Squelch, squash; Gingham yet,     Mackintosh; Lawns afloat,     Paths dirt; Top-coat,     Flannel shirt;		Limp curls,     Splashed hose; Pretty girls,     Damp shows; Piled grates,     Cold shivers; Aching pates,     Sluggish livers; Morn cruel,     Eve a biter; Hot gruel,     Sweet nitre; Voice a creaky     Cracked cadenza, Face "peaky,"     INFLUENZA!!! Gloom growing,     Glum, glummer Noses (and nothing else) blowing,—     That's Summer!
Lilacs drenched,     Laburnums pallid; Spirits quenched,     Souls squalid; Tennis "off,"     Icy breeze; Croak, cough,     Wheeze, sneeze;	Muck, muddle,     Slush, snow; Hay-fever     (No hay!) Spoilt beaver,     Shoes asplay; Lilies flopping,     Washed-out roses;

OPERATIC NOTES.

We're quite the gay Frenchmen now at the Italian Opera: Faust in French, Manon in French, Roméo et Juliette in French, Le Prophète in French; American singers, and Dutch singers—for if Mr. VAN DYCK isn't as much a Double Dutchman as VANDERDECKEN or any other Van, except PICKFORD & CO.'s, then am I myself a Dutch native—and, by the way, I'm always equal to a dozen of 'em any time during the right and proper season. Not for many a long day and night has there been a better show at Covent Garden. Miss EAMES, the Brothers DE RESZKÉ, VAN DYCK, MELBA; the two RAVOGLI girls, specially GIULIA, as tuneful contralto; MAUREL, the cultured artist; SIBYL SANDERSON, the simple child of Nature; AGNES JANSON, with more sauce Hollandaise; marvellous MRAVINA for the French Queen, "with a song;" and, above all, Madame ALBANI, in tip-top voice, acting and singing better than ever.

Tuesday.—June 2 was a Diamond Night in front. H.R.H.'s present: Diamond Queens and Princesses of Society all on view. DRURIOLANUS, in his glory, beams on everyone.

Wednesday.—State Ball counter-attraction to Opera. Won't do to go in rumpled silks and satins, and drooping feathers, like hens after the rain, to a Court Ball. So Opera suffers; those present trying to look as if they had been invited to State Ball, but didn't care about going, or couldn't go, on account of recent family affliction. However, as DRURIOLANUS is reported to have appeared in full fig at State Ball, he couldn't expect others less interested in the performance than himself to cut the Court and come to the Opera. To-night, M. PLANCON as Mephistopheles, a thinner demon than Brother NED DE RESZKÉ, but un bon diable tout de même.

Friday Night.—Notable for excellent performance of Rigoletto, or The Little Duke and The Big Duck respectively personified by Signor RAVELLI and GIULIA RAVOGLI. Three "R"s in such a combination. Quite "R's Poetica." Beg pardon.

"Tag" on the week,—if our friends in front are pleased as they appear to be, then DRURIOLANUS and Council—not the County, but the Covent Garden Council—are satisfied. Curtain.

HONEY-MOONING IN ITALY.

Fair American Bride. "OH, JOHN! TO THINK THAT PERHAPS VIRGINIUS STABBED HIS DAUGHTER ON THIS VERY SPOT, AND THAT JUST OVER THERE TELLIA DROVE OVER HER POOR FATHER'S DEAD BODY!"

John. "AH—VERY SAD—VERY SAD, INDEED! BUT, SAY, MATILDA, I GUESS WE'D BETTER LET BYGONES BE BYGONES. AND NOW LET'S GO AND HAVE A LOOK AT THE NEW POST-OFFICE."

THE ALARMED AUTOCRAT !

"The Czar declared that he was determined to continue resolutely to the end the policy upon which he had entered, with a view to the solution of the Jewish difficulty, adding that it was the Jews themselves who had forced that policy upon him by their conduct.... 'Down to the present time' (His Majesty remarked), 'there has never been a single Nihilistic plot, in which Jews have not been concerned.'"—The Times' Correspondent at Moscow.