After hastily dressing, and dining, we re-entered our voiture, and drove off to the celebrated Opera of Paris. Found the house spacious and well built, though shabbily decorated and fitted up. The band very fine, and immensely strong, too much so for the choruses, it consisting of at least sixty professors. The singing most disgracefully infamous, and the acting nearly as bad, but the scenery, dresses, and decorations far surpassed all our English theatres in every respect. The opera was ‘Les Abencérages;’ in this was introduced a Mr. Aubert, who danced and played on the guitar, and although with the addition of having to execute considerably on this, the only music to which he danced, he was decidedly superior to any in the ballet, which was ‘Télémaque.’ Although they could not complain for want of having a chef-d’œuvre to perform in, yet the dancing was far short of what I had been led to expect from the pompous account I had everywhere had of the French opera dancing.