eyebrows to keep it on. There was a moment when we thought we felt it going down the back of our neck, but a dexterous twitch of the left ear restored the natural order of things.
Well, to show you that we were there, we'll tell you of what the Opera was composed.
There was love of course, and misery, and plenty of both.
The slim man married the lady in white, and then ran away with another woman.
She tore her hair, and went mad. One of the stout gentlemen doubled his fists, the other spread out his hands and looked pitiful.
The mad lady sang occasionally, and retained wonderful command of her voice.
They all felt dreadfully, and went throa a great deal, singing all the time.
The thing came right at last, but we have no room to explain how.”
In May, 1855, the paper died a natural death.