_Tuesday, June 27._--_Faust_, in French. JEAN DE RESZKE was to have been _Faust_, but the "vaulting ambition" of the eminent Polish tenor led him to attempt a high jump with another Pole--the leaping-pole--and whether he had not his compatriot well in hand, or whether, "with love's light wings," _Roméo_ did _not_ manage to "o'ertop" the highest note above the line, deponent sayeth not, but this much is known, that he fell at the high jump, and, feeling the pain first in the under part of his foot, and then in the leg, he exclaimed, with _Hamlet_, "O my prophetic sole, my ankle!" the result being that he appeareth not to-night as _Faust_. If Frère JEAN DE RESZKE is going on by "leaps and bounds" in this manner, he will be known as "Brother JOHN the Risky." Madame NORDICA happy as _Marguerite_--at least she looked it, for even in the most tragic scenes there is always a sweet smile on her dimpled cheeks. Mlle. BAUERMEISTER makes a _Marta_ of herself as the merry old dame; Mlle. GUERCIA, as _Siebel_, is a Siebeline mystery; LASSALLE, as _Valentine_, pleases _la salle_; but Brother EDWARD "_prends le gâteau_" as _Mephistopheles_. [Illustration: "O my prophetic sole, my ankle!"] _Wednesday._--_Tristan und Isolde_, which may be rendered _Triste 'un und I solde-not-so-many-tickets-as-usual_, or _Triste 'un und I'm Sold_. "The fourth of the WAGNER Cycle." If there are eight of them then this is the Bi-Cycle, but there's more woe than weal in it, and though extracts may be relished by the learned amateur, yet, as a whole, WAGNER'S _Tristan_ does not attract our opera-going public. * * * * * MEM.--No Nursery of Music can possibly be complete without "Leading-Strings." * * * * * [Illustration: ON TICK. _Seedy Swell._ "I SAY, OLD CHAP, TELL US THE TIME. I'M SURE YOUR WATCH GOES WELL." _Second S. S._ "IT GOES BEAUTIFULLY. IT WENT SIX MONTHS AGO TO MY UNCLE'S!"] * * * * * TO THE FRENCH OARSMEN. (_From Mr. Punch, at Henley._) Here's a hand, my fine fellows; in friendship you come, And _Punch_, who likes courage, would scorn to be dumb. He greets you with cheers; may your shades ne'er diminish, Though you row forty-four from the start to the finish. You will bear yourselves bravely, and merit your fame, For brave man and Frenchman mean mostly the same. We shall do what we can--it's our duty--to beat you, But we know it will take a tough crew to defeat you. And whatever the upshot, howe'er the race ends, You and we, having struggled, shall always be friends. So accept, while we cheer you again and again, This welcome from Thames to his sister, the Seine. * * * * *