Meyerbeer's opera of the _Africaine_ seems to be "The Opera of the Future," for there appears but little chance of its ever being played in our lifetime. How many years has it not been locked up in the great composer's portfolio, undergoing a species of African slavery, of which manager after manager has tried in vain to find the musical key. However, we are sorry to find Meyerbeer lending his great name to Messrs. Wagner, Liszt, and other crotchet-mongers of the _Music of the Future_, in support of their inharmonious fallacies, that have lately been aired in a grand pretentious production, called _Lohengrin_. A "grin" seems to be the end of all their Operas, though at best it is but a melancholy one, and anything but flattering to those who provoke it. The Viennese are all _Lohengrinning_ like mad. We wish Meyerbeer would put this band of musical fanatics to shame by allowing his _Africaine_ to become an "Opera of the Present," instead of "the Future," and so prove to these hare-brained gentlemen what good music really is. The best _Music of the Future_ is that which has the elements of vitality in every note of it, so that there can be no doubt about its living several scores of years after its production. The specimen that we know of this class is _Don Giovanni_, and our would-be Mozarts cannot do better than take it as a model. [Illustration: MODEST APPEAL LADY (to big drum): "Pray, my good man, don't make that horrid noise. I can't hear myself speak!"] _Punch's_ enthusiasm for Piccolomini had so far cooled that when a testimonial to her was suggested in 1860, he declined his support on the ground that she was "a pretty little personage, of good family, who, by force of bright eyes, intelligent acting, and a charming smile, pleased the public into a belief that she was a lyric artist." Moreover, if there was to be a testimonial, Grisi was the proper recipient. The following year was noteworthy for the advent of Patti, unheralded by any strident flourish of trumpets. _Punch's_ first reference to her _début_ in May was brief and ambiguous, and disfigured by a pun on her name. Six weeks later he remains still unshaken in his allegiance to his old heroines--Malibran, Jenny Lind, and Grisi--and suspends his judgment on the newcomer. Patti's arrival coincided with the "final farewell appearances" of Grisi, a mistress of the grand style as singer and actress, queen-like in her gestures and gait, unequalled even by Titiens (in _Punch's_ opinion) in _Norma_ and as Donna Anna; but _Punch_ soon succumbed to the furore for Patti. As Zerlina she was "more charming than he expected," and a year later he celebrated his enslavement in jingling rhyme:--