JAMES THE FIRST, of America, not to be confounded even by his enemies with the Old or Young Pretender, is bringing out his book entitled, _The Gentle Art of Making Enemies_, which line represents only a third of the entire title. The celebrated Butterfly signature flitters and flutters from leaf to leaf throughout the book, which in itself, in its binding, print, and arrangement, is a work of Art of which the publishers, Messrs. HEINEMANN, may be justly proud, and which must rejoice the soul of JAMES PRIMUS AMERICANUS, Ex-President, R.S.B.A. The BARON has great pleasure in drawing attention--(he is gifted is the BARON, "drawing" as well as writing, you'll observe)--to a rare specimen of the _Papilio Whistleriensis_ which adorns this paragraph, and hopes, on another occasion, to have a few remarks to offer on the many genuine Jacobean epistles contained in this dainty volume which is issued, as the short preface informs us, under the Ex-P.R.B.A.'s "immediate care and supervision," and as a counterblast from LE SIFFLEUR against "a spurious and garbled version" of his writings already put into circulation. It was about time for JACQUES LE SIFFLEUR to come out for a blow; which blow it is more blessed to give than to receive, _dicit_ the BARON DE BOOK-WORMS. * * * * * THE OPERA-GOER'S DIARY. _Monday._--_Les Huguenots._ Madame NORDICA as our _Valentine_. She is _toujours riante_. Otherwise, vocally, charming. RAVELLI the Reliable as _Raoul_, much applauded and quite two inches higher in popular estimation. _Valentina_ NORDICA cannot take anything seriously. She smiles as she is wont to smile at the supreme moment of his great athletic window-jump, when he is shot out of window and killed so thoroughly that he cannot be produced for the last Act of all, which, therefore, is now never given. Simple-minded folk, not up to this, wait in their stalls, and wonder why everybody else is going. Members of orchestra disappear, lights extinguished, brown-holland coverings descend, the fireman enters, the box-keepers retire, and suddenly it bursts upon the inexperienced Opera-goer that it's all over, except shouting for carriages, and that's over too by now, and that there is to be no more Opera to-night. L'entr'acte est long, Un peu d'espoir, There's no more song, Et puis bon soir. M. LASSALLE as the French nobleman, whom some one described as "_Sam Bris_," excellent. Good house for the _Huguenots_.