bettin', as I told you, for my own amusement, and to get rid o' the money! (&c., &c.)

"Why the blazes don't ye take it?"

Mr. Sam Satchell (whom the apathy of the public has apparently reduced to a state of defiant buffoonery). Even money Daredevil, you rascals! And why the blazes don't ye take it? Come on. I'll take two little bits o' twos that Kitty don't win! Four to one against ole bread-and-butter Tommy, over there in the corner! Eleven and a 'alf to three quarters to two against Kitty. "What har the Wild Waves say-hay-ing?" Two Kitties to three Daredevils against a bloomin' goat-chaise! On the Baymouth Durby I'm bettin'!

At the Close of the Last Race.

Three horses have started; the favourite has led to the turn and then bolted up the shingle, but, as the tide has come in and almost covered the course, and the other two horses by declining to face the water have let him in again, he wins after an exciting finish, up to the girths in sea-water; and such bookmakers as have succeeded in obtaining patronage are paying up with as much cheerfulness as they can command.

First Bookmaker (to eager backer). Wait a bit, my boy, wait a bit, the number hasn't gone up yet, my son. Where's your ticket—forty-two? (His clerk refers to book.) That's Squibbs. I pay over winners—not losers. (To the public.) Come along and fetch your money, the bullion's 'ere! (To another backer.) What was yours—threes? ("Fours I've got," from his clerk.) Why don't yer arst for what you're entitled to, instead o' makin' me arst my clurk what your bet was? There's your money—take it and go!

[The backer departs wealthier but abashed.

Second B. I'm payin' over that 'ard-run race, gentlemen, men and 'orses exhorsted! I'm payin' over Susan—dear ole Suseyhanner! who wants their money? The Bank o' England's 'ere, gentlemen, Mr. Frankie Fairprice and his ole friend, who's always by his side and never looses 'im!

Third B. (who has had to borrow largely from his brethren to meet his engagements). Are you all done now? (To the crowd.) Then I'll wish yer good afternoon, thank ye all for yer comp'ny, but you've bin bloomin' bad fun to-day, and you don't ketch me playin' Patience on a monument at any more o' yer blanky sand'oppin' 'andicaps, that's all!

[However, the local newspaper reports next day that "A number of the sporting fraternity were in attendance to do business, and apparently carried on a brisk and profitable trade"—which only shows how difficult it is for the casual observer to form an accurate opinion.

OPERATIC NOTES.

Monday.—Crowded house: all charmed with everything and everybody in Fra Diavolo. Somebody in grand tier so ecstatically pleased, that, unable any longer to control impulsive movement, he (or she) hurls into the air leather lorgnette case, which, descending at an angle, clears the Prince of Wales's elbow by a few inches, and startles musical enthusiast who, seated at corner of third row of stalls, is at that moment wrapped up in the opera, and thus protected against most external dangers. A thrill went through the house! is it a "B-o-m-b" bomb? Bevignani, pausing, bâton in air, gives the horrorstruck singers and concealed orchestra (to whom pause is inexplicable) a few notes rest. Then corner (stall) man picks up lorgnette case, fortunately empty; whereupon the Bold Bevignani's bâton is once more in motion, and everyone is "as they were." Arimondi and Pini-Corsi earn a big encore for duet and dance. Mr. David Bispham with Madame Amadi, as Milor' and Miladi, speaking English and queer Italian, do good service. Fra Diavolo-Lucia excellent, and Miss Marie Engle (who naturally quite understood Milor' and Miladi when speaking Engelish) a charming, sprightly Zerlina. Revival decided hit.

Wednesday.—Verdi's opera, Falstaff. Some charming music in it; otherwise dull opera. Impossible to put Falstaff himself, singing or speaking, on any stage. Actor or singer invariably over-weighted. Zelie de Lussan, looking like Jessica, sings Anne Page's music charmingly. Shakspeare created "sweet Anne Page" the daughter of Mrs. Page. Why then, in the opera, is she put into the Ford family? I refer to the "Characters" in the book of the opera, where I find "Mistress Ford," and "Anne, her daughter." Giulia Ravogli a sprightly Dame Quickly; Pauline Joran a lively Mistress Ford; and Signor de Lucia an amiable Fenton, "with a song."

Friday.—House not absolutely crowded to hear Carmen. Is Carmen a bit "off"? Yet nothing better than performance of Zelie de Lussan as gay and wicked heroine. Little Don José de Lucia first-rate, and Ancona winning encore for old friend Toréador. Marie Engle excellent goody-goody contrast to bold, bad Carmen. Police-constable Bevignani, bâton in hand, severe when on the beat. In honour of Queen's Birthday, Sir Druriolanus troupe-ing Il Trovatore's operatic colours at Windsor Castle. It ought to have been, appropriately, Falstaff.

Saturday.—Faust. "House full." The Princess and Princesses present. Melba's "Jewel song" a gem. M. Plançon, whose name, Britishly pronounced, suggests "Mr. Plain-song," rather ecclesiastical than diabolical, a highly-coloured but generally effective Mephistopheles. Mdlle. Brazzi appears to-night as "the new woman" in the part of Siebel. "She rouses enthusiasm," quoth Wagstaff, "no Siebil-lation." Exeunt omnes.

THE DISCOVERY OF LONDON.

Interviewer. As a keen student of your fascinating works, permit me to render to you my respectful homage.

Distinguished Foreigner in London. Certainly. I observe that you speak the French of the capital with fluency.

Int. You flatter me. I am only an ordinary journalist. Possibly you prefer to converse in our local language?