One-Act piece called Salammbô, by OSCAR WILDE. Naturally we all see SARAH in the first part of Sal. Perhaps the "ambo" means SARAH and OSCAR. Being an Eastern subject, SARAH sees the chance in it of a Sara-scenic success. On Saturday last, with her wonderful La Tosca in the afternoon, and her Dame aux Camélias (the "O'Camélias" sounds like an Irish title) at night, SARAH regularly "knocked them" in the Shaftesbury Avenue. No one interested in dramatic art should miss seeing SARAH, at all events, in La Dame aux Camélias.

PARTICULAR AND GENERAL RELATIONSHIP.—Mr. GEORGE CURZON, as the Saturday Review remarks in its notice of Curzon's Persia, "is not the first of his family who has written a good book of Eastern travel." The author, then, is not a first, but a second, or third CURZON, and this particular work of authorship creates a new kinship, as his travels are, now, related to the public.

OPERATIC NOTES.

Isolde, seated on a sham rock, awaiting the coming of her lover. Alas! all ends unharpily!

Wednesday.—The Irish Question, heard for the first time operatically, put by The O'WAGNER in his music-story of "Tristan und Isolde." The story is decidedly a triste 'un and is old no doubt of it. Frau SUCHER first rate as the Irish Princess Isolde. Herr ALVARY plays Her Tristan; good, but not great. All vary well. As Kurwenal, Herr KNAPP, in spite of his name, kept everyone awake, and did his very best; in fact, "went Knapp."

Fräulein RALPH was charming as Braugäne, and her manner of inducing the Princess of the Most Distressful Country to take to the bottle—KINAHAN's L.L.L.—deserved the encore which she ought to have received. No matter—Fräulein RALPH played with spirit, which is a dangerous thing to do as a rule. House crammed: not packed.

"How's your Poor Feet?"

The Pedicure Motif. Shepherd, with pipe, suffering from "Corno Inglese," showing Triste 'Un, the Cornish Knight, where he may seek relief from his Bunions' Pilgrim's Progress.

Thursday.—Long live the Don! Vive MOZART! Don Giovanni's taste as to ladies changed as he grew older. The two musical Duchesses who accompany Don Ottavio when he is singing are usually, fine and large; but Zerlina, the Don's latest fancy, is petite. Why does Signor CARACCIOLO make Masetto an idiotic old bumpkin? EDOUARD DE RESZKÉ is admirable as the cowardly Leporello, and MAUREL fine as the Im-maurel Don. With what an air he salutes Zerlina! The air is MOZART's "La ci darem," and therefore perfect. ZÉLIE DE LUSSAN delightful as that arrant flirt Zerlina. The Statue was rather in the dark. The Stalls couldn't see him "noddin', nid nid noddin'." Let Sir DRURIOLANUS look to this, and say to the Limelighter, quoting GOËTHE, "More light! More light!"

Friday.—Carmen. Commend me at once to Madame DESCHAMPS-JEHIN as Carmen. Her name is too long, and there's a little too much of her, figure-ratively speaking. A trifle over-size for quite an ideal Carmen, but then Madame D.-JEHIN is so good that we cannot have too much of her. Acting excellent. Madame EMMA EAMES EMMA-nently first-rate as Michaela. We all know JEAN DE RESZKÉ'S Don José, which up to now is hard to beat; so for LASSALLE as Escamillo,—the great song encored, of course. Signor CARACCIOLO as Dancairo (of a mixed race, Irish Dan and Egyptian Cairo—a regular Bohemian), and RINALDINI as Remendado, capital, not overdone. Mlle. BAUERMEISTER as Frasquita, and AGNES JANSON as Mercedes, looked winning, especially when playing cards.

Saturday.—Cavalleria Rusticana. Most appropriate when everybody is talking of the elections and "going to the country."

GIRLS OF THE PERIOD.

LETTER I.

Coached Cottage.

MY DEAR ROSA,

I fancy I told you that my Uncle JACK was coming home from sea. I had not seen him for six years—in fact he left England when I was a child of four or so. As you know, I am now ten. I naturally was rather curious to meet him. Well he is here, and I am fairly puzzled. He is rather a nice fellow—partly educated. He is distinctly shaky with his Classics, and has evidently forgotten half his Mathematics. However we got on pretty well. He seemed to be interested in my lecture upon Astronomy, and said "I seemed to be a hand at Chemistry." Well so I am. As you know, when I was a mere child I was always fond of experiments of an analytical character. He asked me if I had a doll, and I suppose he referred to the old lay-figure that I was wont to sketch before I took to studying from the nude. And now you will ask, why I am writing to you, when both you and I are so busy—when we are both preparing for matriculation? When we have so little spare time at our disposal?

I will tell you. The fact is, he accuses me of ignorance in the biographical section of my studies. He gave me the history of a gentleman who used a blue dye for his moustache and murdered his wives with impunity. Then he related the adventures of a lady who slept for a hundred years from the wound of a spinning needle. I had to confess (although a constant reader of the Lancet) I had never heard of the case before. Then he recounted the adventures of a traveller who seems to have had a life of considerable interest. This person obtained quite a number of diamonds, with the assistance of a huge bird called a Roc. Then he had much to say about a dwarf who defeated (in really gallant style) several men of abnormally large stature. He laughed when I had to confess that I had never heard of these people before. He gave me their names. The wife-slaughterer was called Bluebeard; the lady who slumbered for a hundred years, The Sleeping Beauty (I suppose she preferred to keep her anonymity); the traveller's name was Sindbad, and the dwarf was Jack the Giant-Killer. Have you heard of any of these people?

Your affectionate Cousin,
MARY.

LETTER II.

Algebra Lodge.

MY DEAR MARY,

As you are many weeks my junior (to be precise, exactly two months), I hasten to answer your letter. I have searched all my Biographical Dictionaries, but cannot find the people of whom you are in search. As for myself, I have never heard of Bluebeard, know nothing of The Sleeping Beauty, and am sceptical of the existence of Sindbad and Jack the Giant-Killer. Like Mrs. Prig, who doubted the existence of Mrs. Harris, "I don't believe there were no such persons." By the way, you ought to read DICKENS. He is distinctly funny, and I can quite understand his amusing our grandmothers. I generally turn to his works after a long day with HOMER or EURIPIDES.

Your affectionate Cousin,
ROSA.

"NE PLUS ULSTER."—Decidedly, Ulster can't go beyond "its last," or rather, its latest, most utter utterances. So far, "words, words, words;" but from words to blows