AN OPERATIC PUZZLE.

I had been informed that it was no use buying a book of _Mireille_,
as those sold in the house were of a somewhat light and mis-leading
character. So I didn't. But I had a programme, and fortunately I was
able to recognise most of the singers in spite of their disguise. Also
I comforted myself with the official information that the piece was
to be performed, "by desire, in French." "Oho!" says I, to myself,
"there is some sensible person on the Committee who doesn't understand
Italian, and prefers 'French as she is sung.'" However, I recognised
but one of the Covent Garden Committee men present, and he was there
only in a casual sort of way. DRURIOLANUS wasn't _en évidence_;
probably at home rehearsing various effects with a view to receiving
the Imperial Majesty of Germany. These receptions, including "such a
getting up (and down) stairs," walking with crab-like action, require
a lot of rehearsal, not to mention the management of a sword which
is apt to be dangerous only to the wearer, and the carrying of
wax-lights, the effect of which on his official Court dress may recall
to the mind of the Operatic Manager the celebrated name of GRISI.
There was no one in authority to tell me anything about _Mireille_,
and this is what I made out of the plot.

_Mireille_, Miss EAMES, charming throughout, is a happy peasant
in beautiful little patent leather shoes, which, I hope, are
as easy as apparently are her circumstances. She is beloved by
one _Vincent_, pronounced _Van Song_, a peasant of a rather
Whitechapelish-costermongerish-out-on-a-Sunday appearance, but
picturesque withal. They are engaged; at least, if they are not they
ought to be. Then comes a handsome elderly lady, disguised like a
fairy godmother in a pantomime before she throws off her hood and