* * * * *

Bjingle Bjangle, the celebrated Norwegian _raconteur_, thus
describes in his book of travels a visit to the grand opera in New York,
as follows:--

I went to the opera last night and enjoyed it unspeakably.

I noticed that most of the ladies in the boxes enjoyed it also, but not
unspeakably.

The ladies, Heaven bless them! seemed to be suffering from that operatic
disease which is called nervous conversation.

This is a disease which attacks the vocal chords just as soon as the
curtain rises and causes the voice to fall out.

I also enjoyed the names of the singers.

Some of the names on the programme looked like a round robin sent out by
a Turnverein bowling club, but I suppose if they were baked in the oven
until translated they would mean something soft and soothing like a
custard pudding.

Why is it that foreign singers and singerettes always have a name which
listens like a cuckoo clock with a sore throat.

Perhaps if we knew how to unlock them these names would mean just plain
Schmidt or Jones.