hese
seats were well in the middle of the house on the ground floor. The
doorkeepers were inexorable. On the second floor, they sent us to the
third, and on the third they would have sent us to the roof if there had
been any way of getting up there. As it was, they permitted us to stop
at the top gallery, and, to our unmitigated horror, the usher said that
our seats were there. Jimmie was furious, but I, not knowing how much he
had paid for them, endeavoured to soothe him by pointing out that all
true musicians sat in the gallery, because music rises and blends in the
rising.

"We are sure to get the best effect up here, Jimmie, and those front
rows, especially, if our seats happen to be in the middle, won't be at
all bad. Don't let's fuss any more about it, but come along like an
angel."

I will admit, however, that even my ardour was dampened when we
discovered that our seats were absolutely in the back and top row, so
that we leaned against the wall of the building, and were not even
furnished with chairs, but sat on a hard bench without relief of any
description.

And the price Jimmie hurled at us that he had paid for those tickets! I
am ashamed to tell it.

Now Jimmie hates German opera in the most picturesque fashion. He hates
in every form, colour, and key, and in all my life I was never so sorry
for any one as I was for Jimmie that day at Bayreuth. The heat was
stifling, his rage choked him and effectually prevented his going to
sleep, as otherwise he might have done in peace and quiet. He sat there
in such a steam and fury that it was truly pitiable. He went out once to
get a breath of air, and they turned the lights out before he could get
back, so that he stumbled over people, and one man kicked him. With that
Jimmie stepped on the German's other foot, and they swore at each other
in two languages and got hissed by the people around them. When he
finally got back to us, we found it expedient not to make any remarks at
all, and I was glad it was too dark for him to see our faces.

Yet, in spite of Jimmie and the heat and the ache in our backs and the
hard unyielding bench, that afternoon at "Parsifal" is one of the
experiences of a lifetime.

People tell us now that we were there on an "Off day." By that they mean
that no singers with great names took part. How like Americans to think
of that! Germans go to the opera for the music. Americans go to hear and
see the operatic stars.

Happily unvexed by