Mounting to George's diggings: last Saturday morning, we could hear his excellent baritone raised Tosti's immortal ballad. The words, however, were strange. "Goodby, cumshaw, cumshaw goodby." he sang; and then, crescendo, "What! are we waiting for, oh my' heart Take your money and go (Hop it now!). Goodby, for ever, ete." The door flew open and a coolie was catapulted the corridor, hoy one hand clutching some coins and the other nursing his anatomy. From the piano burst the strains of the March of the Warlike Priests. George jumped up as we entered -and draping a. table-cover about him, announced that he w:
Fra Diavolo and that he would slay all pursuers out of hand. He chose the Chesterfield for the classic bridge and broke a number of its
Text read from the printed page and cleaned; old type leaves the occasional error.