Before I proceed let me inform you of some simple matters of fact which I may forget if delayed. Such as that we found the Sothebys and Murrays, and Leghs of High Legh, and Wilbraham of Delamere Lodge. With the former we have made several joint excursions and contrived to meet at dinner. Mr. Sotheby is in his element, bustles everywhere, looks the vignette of happiness, exclaims "Good!" upon all occasions, from the arrangement of the Skulls in the Catacombs to the dressing of a _vol au vent_. In short, they are all as delighted as myself, and that is saying a good deal. Pardon this digression. Again to the point--to Paris. Where shall I begin? Let us take the theatres. We saw Talma last night, and the impression is strong, therefore he shall appear first on the list. The play was "Manlius," a tragedy in many respects like our "Venice Preserved." The House was crowded to excess, especially the pit, which, as in England, is the focus of criticisms and vent for public opinion. When a Tragedy is acted no Music whatever is allowed, not a fiddle prefaced the performance; but at seven o'clock the curtain slowly rose, and amidst the thunder of applause, succeeded by a breathless silence, Talma stepped forth in the Roman toga of Manlius. His figure is bad, short, and rather clumsy, his countenance deficient in dignity and natural expression, but with all these deductions he shines like a meteor when compared with Kemble. He is body and soul, finger and thumb, head and foot, involved in his character; and so, say you, is Miss O'Neil, but Talma and Miss O'Neil are different and distant as the poles. She is nature, he is art, but it is the perfection of art, and so splendid a specimen well deserves the approbation he so profusely receives. The curtain is not let down between the acts, and the interval does not exceed two or three minutes, so that your attention is never interrupted. The scene closed as it commenced--with that peculiar hurra of the French, expressive of their highest excitement. It is the same with which they make their charge in battle, and proportioned to numbers it could not have been more vehement at the victories of Austerlitz and Jena than it was on the reappearance of Talma; and not satisfied with this, they insisted on his coming forth again. At length, amidst hurras and cries of "Talma! Talma!" the curtain was closed up, and my last impression rendered unfavourable by a vulgar, graceless figure in nankeen breeches and top-boots hurrying in from a side scene, dropping a swing bow in the centre of the stage, and then hurrying out again.