Part 2

_Monday._--_Don Giovanni._ RAVELLI the Reliable an excellent _Don Ottavio_, vocally; considered dramatically, he does as much as can be expected of a man of his inches. _Zerlina_ and _Masetto_ so pleased with his singing that they stop on the stage all through the _tessoro_ song, for which he takes a hearty _encore_, whereupon _Zerlina_ and _Mazetto_ run off quickly. Having had enough of it, however, they do not return for the _encore_. Rather rude this. DAN DRADY too sinister for gay _Don Giovanni_; and there is a villanous determination about his gallantry which would have frightened away the coquettish _Zerlina_, and have warned the more mature ladies of the world, _Donna Anna_ and _Donna Elvira_, in time to prevent them from falling victims to his wiles. Otherwise a highly satisfactory _Don_. Signor PLUNKETTO GREENO as the unfortunate _Commendatore_, who is first killed, and then executed in stone, as a statue to his own memory, was heard and seen to the best advantage. ZELIE DE LUSSAN, too Carmenish as flighty little _Zerlina_, but evidently a match for the sardonic Don DAN DRADY. Madame TAVARY has done well to quit the Hofoperahaus, Munich, and come to Covengardenhaus as _Donna Anna_,--a trying part that not _Anna_-body can play and sing as well as Madame TAVARY. This lady and LILIAN NORDICA (pretty name LILIAN) as _Donna Elvira_ render the characters so charmingly, that they cease to be the funereal bores I have generally considered them. _Ottavio_, _Anna_, and _Elvira_, the trio with a grievance, are, usually, about as cheerful as the three Anabaptists in _Le Prophete. Mais on a change tout cela_. PALLADINO, as the dancing guest--she is always small and early in every Opera now--delights everyone, and so does Conductor RANDEGGER, who is determined that poor little ZELIE DE LUSSAN shall not receive the big bouquets which a mysterious man has brought to the orchestra; then one of the instrumentalists handed them to the leader, who, in order to take them, has been compelled to put down his violin, and, after looking about in a helpless and puzzled manner, holds them until further orders from his chief. Not receiving further orders, he occupies his time by sniffing at the flowers and making remarks _sotto voce_ to his companion violinist on the botanical beauties of the _flora_. Conductor RANDEGGER, apparently unaware of what has been taking place behind his back, turns round abruptly to inquire why leader is taking a few bars' rest. Leading violinist exhibits bouquet, and appeals in dumb show to conductor. The conductor's eye in fine frenzy rolling, says as clearly as fine frenzied rolling eye can say anything, "Remove that bauble!"--(RANDEGGER would make up remarkably well as _Cromwell_)--and the leader, with a sympathetic and apologetic glance at ZELIE as implying, "You should have had 'em if _I_ could have managed it, but you see how I'm situated. RANDEGGER'S a hard man"--puts the bouquets on the floor of the orchestra, and, dismissing them by a supreme effort from his thoughts, betakes himself to his musical Paganinic duties. What becomes of the flowers that bloom in the orchestra, _tra la!_ I don't know, I wish that ZELIE may get them. Remembering the example set by "Practical JOHN" at the Gaiety, of placarding up everywhere in the theatre "No Fees," DRURIOLANUS, at the suggestion of Conductor RANDEGGER, might "hang out a banner on the outer wall" of the orchestra, with the letters inscribed on it "N.B.--No Bouquets."

_Tuesday._--The grandest night of the Season up to now, dear boys. _Romeo_ JEAN DE RESZKE, and MELBA _Juliette_. What can you wish for more? EDOUARD DE RESZKE as the _Frere Laurent_ a magnificent Friar, belonging to some one of the theatrical "Orders" "not admitted after seven." The talented Mlle. BAUERMEISTER'S _Gertrude_ hardly a companion picture to her _Martha_ in _Faust_. Signor PLUNKETTO GREENO not quite every inch a Duke: about one inch in three Duke and the rest Democrat. When he has been _Duke of Verona_ long enough, he'll be all right, and most likely

He'll be, this Mister PLUNKET GREENE, The Dukiest Duke that ever was seen.

A word to the wise. Whenever this Season _Romeo and Juliette_ is played with this cast, go and see it. Don't hesitate. It's memorable. A feast for ear and eye. _Ite ad astra-operatica._ And at the same time, don't forget to honourably mention the founder of the feast, AUGUSTUS DRURIOLANUS.

_Wednesday._--Extra. _Carmen._ Derby Day. I have been at the Derby. Glad to get back again. As to "back again," I don't "back again" anything for a long time. But, _a nos moutons_. _Toreador_ evidently has had his money on _Sainfoin_. Never sang better. Glad to see the simple Scotch lassie, MAGGIE MCINTYRE, once more as the village maiden. Charming. ZELIE DE LUSSAN as wickedly attractive as ever. What a collection such a gipsy would make on a Derby Day--a fine Derby Day--among the "pretty gentlemen" whose fortunes she would tell. Extra night this, and extra good.

_Thursday._--A WAGNER Night. Crowded to see JEAN DE RESZKE as another Wagner Knight. NEDDIE DE RESZKE as the _King Henry_--every inch a King, and something to spare. Freddy Telramondo suits DAN DRADY better than _Don Giovanni_. Madame FURSCH-MADI as the wicked _Ortruda_,--("Never saw ought ruder than her conduct to Elsa," observes the irrepressible Mr. WAGSTAFF,)--And MAGGIE MACINTYRE as the virtuous but unhappy _Elsa_. The stranger in the land of WAGNER begins to wonder at the continuous flow of the melody, not one tiny cupful of which can he take away with him, until with joy he hears the Bridal Chorus at the commencement of the Third Act, and for a few moments he rests _dans un pays de connaissance_.

_Friday._--_Lucia di Lammermoor._ Great night for Madame MELBA. Recalled three times before Curtain after each Act. Living illustration of once popular romance, "_Called Back_." Great night, too, for Harpist and Flutist. Both gentlemen highly applauded, and would have been recalled, but for the fact of their not having quitted the orchestra. Harper plays solo from _Harper's Miscellany_, arranged by DONIZETTI. RAVELLI the Reliable recalled also.

_Saturday._--Brilliant house. Royal Highnesses early to come and last to go. Magnificent performance of _Die Meistersinger_. M. ISNARDON very comic as _Beckmesser_, LASSALLE a noble Hans Sachs ("the shoemaker who sings a sole-o," says Mr. WAGSTAFF), JEAN DE RESZKE a grand young _Walther_, MONTARIOL (as before) a capital silly idiot _David_, Mlle. BAUERMEISTERSINGER very lively as _Magdalena_, and Madame TAVARY a skittish young chit in the somewhat trying and rather thankless part of _Eva_. The tenor's song to her ought to be, "EVA, of thee I'm fondly dreaming," if WAGNER had only thought of it. Opera too long; but Wagnerites don't complain, and certainly to-night they get their money's worth and something over, from 7.30 till past midnight.

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A SWEET THING IN CRITICISM.

CARDINAL MANNING, apparently having been invited by its author to express an opinion upon Mr. WM. O'BRIEN'S "_When we were Boys_," writes:--"When I got to the end, I forgot the book, and would only think of Ireland--its manifest sufferings, and its inextricable sorrows." His Eminence then continues:--"I hope to see the day break, and I hope you will see the noontide, when the people of Ireland will be readmitted, so far as is possible, to the possession of their own soil, and shall be admitted, so far as is possible, to the making and administration of their own local laws, while they shall still share in the legislation which governs and consolidates the Empire. Then _Ken_ and _Mabel_ shall be no more parted."

No doubt this excellent critique will be followed by the publication of letters somewhat similar to the following:--

DEAR MR. APPLES,--I promised to write to you after I had used your Soap. When I had finished washing my hands, I forgot everything but gallant little Wales. I hope to see the morning, and trust you will see the evening, of that time when the bold sun of freedom will shine over a land true to itself, as far as possible, and rejoicing in the name of the country without stain. Then will we all say, "Good afternoon," followed by the customary inquiry. Believe me,

Always yours very faithfully, W. E. GL-DST-NE.

Should this mode of criticism be extended, the benefit to those who have to review without knowing what to say will be obvious.

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A New Heading of an Old Epitaph.

"A remarkable coincidence has attended the drawings of two of the principal Club Derby Sweepstakes. As we stated yesterday, the Garrick Club Sweepstakes, of the value of L300, has fallen to Mr. HENRY IRVING. We now learn that Mr. TOOLE benefits to the extent of L75 out of the Sweepstakes of the Devonshire Club."--_Daily News._

LOVELY in Life, they were Both There when the Sweepstakes were Divided.

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"THREE FISHERS."

THREE fishers went fishing North-east and North-west (Like the trio from Kingsley familiarly known). Each thought himself, doubtless, the bravest and best, And held the good "swims" should be mainly his own. There was JOHNNY the Briton, and FRANCOIS the Frank, And JONATHAN also, the artful young Yank, An expert at "bouncing" and "boning."

And FRANCOIS the Frank, who went fishing for cod, Nicked lobsters as well, and he stuck to them too; He declared they were all the same thing, which seemed odd, The result being anger and hullaballoo, And rows about Bounties, and shines about Bait; For ructions all round are as certain as fate, When parties go "bouncing" and "boning."

And JONATHAN, well, _he_ went fishing for seals, And he wanted the fishing grounds all to himself. When the Russ had done ditto, the Yank had raised squeals (How consistency's floored in the struggle for pelf!) And JONATHAN took a most high-handed course; For greediness mostly falls back on brute force, When parties go "bouncing" and "boning."

And JOHNNY the Briton, a sturdy old salt, Had been a sea-grabber himself in his time; Some held that monopoly still was his fault, Others swore that his modesty verged upon crime, Nor is it quite easy to say which was true, For so much depends on a man's point of view, When parties go "bouncing" and "boning."

But when JOHNNY the Briton caught sight of the Frank Making tracks with a lobster--the whoppingest one-- And when he perceived the impertinent Yank With the seal--such a spanker!--skedaddling like fun, He stood and he shouted, "Stop thief! Hi! Hold hard!" For language does not always "go by the card," When parties go "bouncing" and "boning."

"Now then, you sea-grabbers," he bellowed, "Belay! I suppose you imagine I'm out of it quite. But you're not going to have it just all your own way. Fair dues! my dear boys. After all, right is right! Big Behring is no _mare clausum_, young Yank, And cold Newfoundland is not _yours_, my fine Frank, In spite of your 'bouncing' and 'boning.'"

Well, he of the Lobster and he of the Seal Have rights of their own, which old JOHN won't deny. But _he_ has some too, and _Punch_ hopes they will feel That they should not grab his, and had better not try. Some _modus vivendi_ no doubt can be found, To make the Three Fishers quite friendly all round, And good-bye to all "bouncing" and "boning!"

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ELCHO ANSWERS.

_Q._ What loves "The Country" more than Tithes Bills tracing? _A._ Racing! _Q._ And what than "Compensation's" doubtful courses? _A._ 'Orses! _Q._ Than Bills of Irish Tenants poor to favour rights? _A._ Favourites! _Q._ What does it find as profitless as St. Stephens? _A._ "Evens!" _Q._ What more exciting than "The Pouncer's" nods? _A._ "Odds!" _Q._ What does it love far more than LABBY'S jokes? _A._ "Oaks!" _Q._ And what beyond all ELCHO'S quirks and quips? _A._ "Tips!" _Q._ What would it call him who of "Sport" turns squelcher? _A._ "Welsher!!!" _Q._ Who finds the "Derby" closing satisfactory? _A._ Hack Tory! _Q._ What's the protesting Puritan Gladstonian? _A._ "Stony 'un!"

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GERMAN MOTTO IN AFRICA.--"_For Farther Land!_"

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MODERN TYPES.

(_By Mr. Punch's Own Type-Writer._)

No. XIII.--THE PRECOCIOUS UNDERGRADUATE.

EVER since undergraduates existed at all, there must have been some who, in the precocity of their hearts, set themselves up or were set up by the admiration of their fellows as patterns of life, and knowledge, and manners. But before steam and electricity made Oxford and Cambridge into suburbs of London, these little deities were scarcely heard of outside the limits of their particular University, the sphere of their influence was restricted, and they were unable to impress the crowd of their juvenile worshippers by the glamour which comes of frequent plunges into the dizzy whirlpool of London life. Now, however, all that is changed. Our seats of learning are within a stone's throw of town, and the callow nestlings who yesterday fluttered feebly over King's Parade or the High, may to-day attempt a bolder flight in Piccadilly and the Park. The simpler pleasures of Courts and Quads soon pall upon one who believes emphatically, that life has no further secrets when the age of twenty has been reached, and that an ingenuous modesty is incompatible with the exercise of manliness. He despises the poor fools who are content to be merely young while youth remains. He himself, has sought for and found in London a fountain of age, from which he may quaff deep draughts, and returning, impart his experience to his envious friends.

The Precocious Undergraduate, then, was (and is, for the type remains, though the individual may perish) one who attempted in his own opinion with perfect success, to combine an unerring knowledge of men with a smooth cheek and a brow as unwrinkled as late hours could leave it. In the sandy soil of immaturity he was fain to plant a flourishing reputation for cunning, and to water it with the tears of those who being responsible for his appearance in the world dreaded his premature affectation of its wisdom and its follies.

They had given him, however, as befitted careful parents, every chance of acquiring an excellent education. In order that he might afterwards shine at the Bar or in the Senate, he was sent to one of our larger public schools, where he soon found that with a very small life-belt of Latin and Greek a boy may keep his head safe above the ripple of a master's anger. But his school career was not without honour. He was a boy of a frank and generous temperament, candid with his masters, and warm-hearted and sincere in his intercourse with his school-fellows. He was by no means slow with his wits, he was very quick with his eye and his limbs. Thus it came about that, although his scholarship was not calculated to make of him a Porson, he earned the admiration and applause of boys and masters by his triumphs as an athlete, a cricketer, and a foot-ball player, and was established as a universal favourite. At the usual age he left school and betook himself to college, freighted for this new voyage with the affection and the hopes of all who knew him.

And now when everything smiled, and when in the glow of his first independence life assumed its brightest hues, in the midst of apparent success his real failures began. The sudden emancipation from the easy servitude of school was too much for him. The rush of his new existence swept him off his feet, and, yielding to the current, he was carried day by day more rapidly out to the sea of debt and dissipation, which in the end overwhelmed him. For a time, however, everything went well with him. His school and his reputation as a popular athlete assured to him a number of friends, he was elected a member of one or two prominent Clubs, he got into a good set. In their society he learnt that an undergraduate's tastes and his expenditure ought never to be limited by the amount of the yearly allowance he receives from his father. Whilst still in his freshman's Term, he was invited to a little card-party, at which he lost not only his head, but also all his ready money, and the greater part of the amount which had been placed to his credit at his Bank for the expenses of his first Term. This incident was naturally much discussed by the society in which he moved, and it was agreed that, for a freshman, he had shown considerable coolness in bearing up against his losses. Even amongst those who did not know him, his name began to be mentioned as that of one who was evidently destined to make a splash, and might some day be heard of in the larger world. His vanity was tickled. This, he thought to himself, not without pleasure, was indeed life, and thinking thus, he condemned all his past years, and the aspirations with which he had entered his University, as the folly of a boy. Soon afterwards he was found at a race-meeting, and was unfortunate enough to win a large sum of money from a book-maker who paid him.

The next incident in his first Term was his attendance as a guest at a big dinner, where the unwonted excitement and a bumper or two of University champagne upset his balance. He grew boisterous, and on his way home to his rooms addressed disrespectfully the Dean of his College, who happened to be taking the air on the College grass-plot. He woke, the next morning, to find himself parched and pale, but famous. "Did you hear what So-and-So, the freshman, said to the Dean last night? Frightful cheek!"--so one undergraduate would speak of him to another, with a touch of envy which was not diminished by the fact that his hero had been gated at nine for a week.

But it is useless to pursue his career through every detail. He went on gambling, and soon found himself the debtor or the creditor of those whom he still attempted to look upon as his friends. He bought several thousand large cigars at L10 per hundred from a touting tobacconist, who promised him unlimited credit, and charged him a high rate of per-centage on the debt. He became constant in his visits to London, and, after a course of dinners at the Bristol, the Berkeley, and the Cafe Royal, he acquired, at Cambridge, the reputation of a connoisseur in cooking and in wine. The Gaiety was his abiding-place, the lounge at the Empire would have been incomplete without him: for him Lais added a rosy glow to her complexion and a golden shimmer to her hair; he supped in her company, and, when he gave her a diamond swallow, purchased without immediate payment in Bond Street, the paragraphist of a sporting paper recorded the gift in his columns with many cynical comments. In short, he now knew himself to be indeed a man of the world. Henceforward he seemed to spend almost as much time in London as in Cambridge. It is unnecessary to add that his legitimate resources soon ran dry; he supplied their deficiency from the generous fountain of a money-lender's benevolence. After all, eight per cent. per month sounds quite cheap until it is multiplied by twelve, and, as he always disliked arithmetic, he abstained from the calculation, and pocketed the loan. And thus, for a time, the wheel of excitement was kept spinning merrily. But the pace was too fast to last for long. Somehow or other, soon after the beginning of his third year, his happy gaiety which had carried him cheerfully through many scenes of revelry seemed to desert him. He became subject to fits of morose abstraction. His dress was no longer of the same shining merit, nor did he seem to care, as formerly, to keep his cuffs and collars unspotted from the world. Disagreeable rumours began to be whispered about him. He was said to have failed to pay his card-debts, and yet to have gone on gambling night after night; and at last came the terrible report--all the more terrible for not being fully understood by those who heard it--that he had been posted at Tattersall's.

Undergraduate Society is, however, of an extraordinary tolerance, and if it had not been for his own manifest misery, he might have kept his head up in Cambridge even under these calamities. But he began too late to realise his own folly, and with the memory of his triumphs and his collapse, of his extravagance and his debts clogging his efforts, he tried to read. He did read, feverishly, uselessly, and when his list appeared his name was absent from it. Then followed the fatal interview with his father, and the inevitable crash, in the course of which he became the defendant in a celebrated case on the subject of an infant's necessaries. An occupation was sought for him, but all capacity for honest effort seemed to have perished with his frankness and his cheerfulness. After creeping about London in a hang-dog fashion for a year or two, he eventually decided to tempt misfortune in the Western States of America. For a time he "ranched" without success, and was heard of as a frequenter of saloons. A year later he died ignobly by the revolver of a Western rowdy, in the course of a drunken brawl.

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MUSICAL FORECASTS.--Mr. PADDY REWSKI will play variations on his own national Melodies, including the _Gigue Irlandaise_, entitled, "_Donnybrook Fair_."--Mr. CHARLES REDDIE'S Pianoforte Recital is fixed for the 17th. It is not placarded about the town, as the clever pianist says, he's perfectly REDDIE, but he's not WILLING.--Mr. JOSEF DASH-MY-LUD-WIG is going to give a Second Chamber Concert on behalf of the Funds of the Second Chambermaid Theatrical Aid Society.--Mr. CUSINS' Concert is on the 12th. Uncles and Aunts please accept this intimation.

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A HARMLESS GHOST.

[A Gentleman advertises for an old house, and says, "Harmless Ghost not objected to."]

_A Spectre speaks_:--

TELL us, good Sir, what is a Harmless Ghost? One who walks quietly at dead of night, For just a single hour or so at most, And never gives folks what is termed a fright? Is it a Ghost that never clanks his chains, That never gibbers, and that bangs no door: But quietly and peacefully remains In calm possession of some upper floor?

A Harmless Ghost is not a Ghost at all, Unworthy of the name; no Headless Man, Or other spectre that could men appal, Would condescend to live 'neath such a ban. No phantom with a grain of self-respect Would make a promise never to do harm. Find your old house, but please to recollect, A Ghost who knows his business _must_ alarm.

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MORE MASQUERADING.

DEAR MR. PUNCH,