_Friday_.--_La Favorita_. Breathing time before the great Operatic
event of week to-morrow night.

_Saturday_.--_Esmeralda_. Too late at last moment to say anything on
this splendid subject, save that the Composer was deservedly greeted
with a storm--of applause!

* * * * *

PURELY A MATTER OF BISLEYNESS.

PRIVATE R. VAN WINKLE opened his eyes, and, taking up his rusty rifle,
marched towards the new ranges.

"Dear me!" said he, gazing with amazement at his surroundings, "this
is not at all like what I saw when I went to sleep."

"No, RIP, it is not," replied _Mr. Punch_, who happened to be in the
neighbourhood. He had been watching his sweetest Princess making a
bull's-eye at the opening ceremony.

"Why, it is twice as large as Wimbledon," continued the astounded
warrior.

"You are well within the limit," the Sage assented, "and see, there
is plenty of space. No fear of damaging any of the tenants of GEORGE
RANGER in _this_ part of the country."

"No, indeed!" exclaimed Private VAN WINKLE. "Not that I think His