Chapter 3

Since I returned from France I have been on a further and more extensive Continental tour, and have received more marks of distinction from various Crowned Heads. Did you hear the strange story of what took place at the meeting of the German EMPEROR with the CZAR of Russia? It was the hour of the mid-day meal. The EMPEROR, at the head of his Wyborg Regiment, had performed prodigies of valour. Mounted on his fiery _Tchinovick_ (a Circassian mustang) he had ridden into the heart of the hostile position, and with one stroke of his _Pen_ (a sort of Russian scimetar with a jewelled hilt) he had captured a convoy containing three thousand _Versts_ (a sort of condensed food), intended for the consumption of the opposing Army. Tired with his labours, he was now lying at full length beside his Imperial host on the banks of the torrential Narva. The CZAR, in attempting to open, a Champagne bottle, had just broken one of his Imperial nails, and had despatched his chief butler to Siberia, observing with pleasant irony, that he would no doubt find a corkscrew there. At this moment a tall and aristocratic stranger, mounted upon a high-spirited native _Mokeoffskaia_, dashed up at full gallop. To announce himself as Lieutenant-General POPOFF, to seize the refractory bottle, to draw the cork, and pour the foaming liquid into the Imperial glasses, was for him the work of a moment. That stranger was I. In recognition of my promptitude, _the_ CZAR has conferred upon me the Stewardship of the Vistula Hundreds, with the command of a division of the Yeomanoff Cavalry, the most distinguished horse-soldiers in Europe.

The German EMPEROR was equally impressed. His Majesty smiled, and, turning to General CAPRIVI, told him to consider himself henceforth under my orders for everything that concerned the peace of the world. I could see that CAPRIVI did not relish this, but I soon made him know his place, and when I threatened to send for Prince BISMARCK--who, by the way, has granted me the unique honour of an interview--he became quite calm and reasonable. On my way home, I called in on Prince FERDINAND of Bulgaria, _who offered me his Crown_, telling me at the same time that he intended to take a course of German Baths. He said I should find STAMBOULOFF a very pleasant fellow; "but," he added, "you've got to know him first."

I, of course, refused His Highness's offer, and accepted instead the Cross for Valour on the Field of Battle. I then hurried off to Servia. King MILAN informed me that, if I wished to take a Queen back with me to England, he would dispose of one very cheaply. Having advised the Regents as to the best method of governing the country, I departed for Roumania. The Queen of ROUMANIA welcomed me as a literary man. She writes all the Roumanian sporting prophecies in verse. The King invested me at once with the _Stonibroku_ Order in brilliants, with the _Iohu_ Clasp for special promise shown in connection with turf literature. I may assure you in confidence that there will be no war for the next week or two. This result is entirely due to me.

Do you want to hear about the St. Leger? I need only say that my own _Surefoot_ has brought me _Alloway Heaume_. Whilst in Russia I heard about plenty of _Serfs_, but they were not saints. Anybody who proposes to wear a _Blue-green_ waistcoat on the _Queen's Birthday_ ought to eat _Sainfoin_ for the rest of his life, and be taken _Right Away_. Finally, if _The Field_ is to _Memoir_ as a window-sash is to a Duchess's flounces, what chance has a crack-brained Bedlamite of munching potatoes in St. James's Palace? Answers must he posted not later than Monday. All prizes genuine. No blanks.

Yours as always, GENERAL POPOFF.

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FROM THE FRENCH--AND THE ENGLISH.

_Captain Thérèse_, Comic Opera. Music by ROBERT PLANQUETTE, composer of _Paul Jones_ and _Les Cloches de Corneville_. Book by Messrs. BISSON and BURNAND; GILBERT À BECKETT assisting in the lyrics. The Carl Rosa Company, DRURIOLANO IMPERATORE, wouldn't wait for the production of an Opera in Paris in order to bring it out here with the French _cachet_, but determined to have one done all for themselves, and to bring it out here first. So the French author began it, the English one finished it, and the Composer wrote music for original French and original English words. It is an international Opera; a new departure, and in the Operatic world an important one. It answers a question which was once the question of the day, "Why should London wait?" London, represented by Sheriff DRURIOLANUS, did not wait, and was served immediately with _Captain Thérèse_, produced Monday the 25th, at the Prince of Wales's Theatre; and the gratitude of London has justified the generosity of all concerned behind the Curtain, and in front of the house. Even in August the five million odd of those left in Town can appreciate good music, capital acting, magnificent dresses, and perfect _mise-en-scène_. The Prince of Wales's Theatre has a reputation for level excellence in Comic Opera--it is the _spécialité de la maison_, and the new lyrical piece is a worthy successor to _Dorothy, Marjorie_, and _Paul Jones_. As _Captain Thérèse_, Miss ATTALLIE CLAIRE reminds mature playgoers of that "such a little Admiral" that was irresistible many years ago. She is bright, clever, and, above all, refined. Miss PHYLLIS BROUGHTON makes up for rather a weak voice by great strength in dancing, and Mr. HARRY MONKHOUSE is genuinely comic. Mr. HENRY ASHLEY, always conscientious even in his mirth, at the end of the Second Act, is suggestive of the Astley's of the Westminster Road. Like the piece, he is very well mounted. Madame AMADI is also excellent, a genuine lady-comedian--or should it be _comédienne_? Then there is Mr. JOSEPH TAPLEY, a capital tenor, and Mr. HAYDEN COFFIN, silver-voiced and graceful, the _beau idéal_ of the hero of a Light Opera company. For the rest, the chorus and band could not be better, and the production is worthy of DRURIOLANUS, or, rather, CHARLES, his brother, and also his friend. So Messrs. BISSON and PLANQUETTE, and their English _collaborateur_, may toast one another, happy in the knowledge that the _entente cordiale_ has once more received hearty confirmation at the hands of the London public; they may cry, with reason, _Vive la France!_ and Hip, hip, BRITANNIA! feeling sure that, by their joint exertions, they have obtained for the Anglo-Saxon race that blessing to the public in general, and Theatrical Managers in particular, a lasting piece.

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"WEDDED TO THE MOOR."

The sportive M.P., when the Session _is_ done, Is off like a shot, with his eye on a gun. He's like _Mr. Toots_ in the Session's hard press, Finding rest "of no consequence." Could he take less? But when all the long windy shindy is o'er, He, like _Oliver Twist_, is found "asking for _Moor_!"

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JOTS AND TITLES.--The busy persons who, in a recent Mansion House list, had found quite "a Mayor's nest" in the highly important question of a Cardinal's precedence, have recently started another scare on discovering that the Ex-Empress's Chaplain at Chislehurst has described himself, or has been described, on a memorial tablet which he had put up in his own church, as a "Rector." Evidently a mistake. If he erected the Memorial, he should have been described as "The Erector."

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NOTICE--Rejected Communications or Contributions, whether MS., Printed Matter, Drawings, or Pictures of any description, will in no case be returned, not even when accompanied by a Stamped and Addressed Envelope, Cover, or Wrapper. To this rule there will be no exception.