Their ranting, roaring may be heav'nly joys,
But me they fill with bile and ire plethoric;
When, I would ask, shall we put down such noise,
As have the worthy citizens of Warwick?
AU REVOIR TO OPERA.
End of operatic season, and a fine season too. The Patti nights exceptionally brilliant. De Reszke frères, the accomplished Bicycling Brothers, did not appear, but Sir Druriolanus sang the old song "We're going to do without them" and did so, uncommonly well. Maurel, Ancona, Plançon, were bright particular stars; while Melba suddenly shone forth as Comet with magnificent tail, i.e. a great following. Calvé held her own against all comers: and, as Santuzza, it was a case of "honours divided" with Mdme. Bellincioni, who, it must not be forgotten, was the original of the part. The Beneficent Bauermeister, of talent unlimited, has shown that "woman," like man, "in her time can play many parts." Mlle. Bauermeister has played them; and all equally well.
So farewell Operatics till next year, when Druriolanus need fear no storms, if still provided with his lightning Conductors Bevignani, Mancinelli & Co. Nor need the Liberal-Conservative Druriolanus Operaticus think of having to reckon with any formidable rivalry, should the utterly improbable happen and a new Opposition Opera be started. Why two Opera Houses cannot succeed in London may be a problem, but hitherto it is one which dissolution of the weaker was the only solution. The strong company went to Covent Garden, and the weak went—to the wall.
Report From a Minor Canon.—Archdeacon Farrar, hitherto performing "Archi-diaconal functions" at Westminster, has just been "installed" Dean of Canterbury. There are, clearly, only two notable installations, one of the Electric Light, and the other of a Dean. Canterbury has now the chance of being thoroughly enlightened and electrified.