M. Scribe stands so high as a dramatic composer, that I suppose he may sport a little with his fame without running much risk of doing it an injury: but as the Académie Royale has the right of drawing upon the Treasury for its necessities, it is to be hoped that the author of "Bertrand et Raton" is well paid for lending his name to the pegs on which ermine and velvet, feathers and flowers, cardinals' hats and emperors' mantles, are hung up to view for the amusement of all who may be curious in such matters. I suspect, however, that the composition of this piece did not cost the poet many sleepless nights: perhaps he remembered that excellent axiom of the Barbier de Seville,--"Ce qui ne vaut pas la peine d'être dit, on le chante;" and under this sentence I think such verses as the following, which strongly remind one of the famous Lilliputian ode in the Bath Guide, may fairly enough be condemned to music. "Fille chère Près d'un père Viens mourir; Et pardonne Quand il donne La couronne Du martyr! Plus de plainte-- Vaine crainte Est éteinte En mon coeur; Saint délire! Dieu m'inspire, Et j'expire Vainqueur." Unhappily, however, the music is at least as worthless as the rhymes. There is one passage, nevertheless, that is singularly impressive and beautiful. This is the chorus at the opening of the second act, where a party of Jews assembled to eat the passover chant a grace in these words:-- "Oh! Dieu de nos pères! Toi qui nous éclaires, Parmi nous descends!" &c. &c. &c. This is very fine, but perhaps it approaches rather too closely to the "Dieu d'Israël" in Méhul's opera of "Joseph" to be greatly vaunted on the score of originality. Yet, with all these "points of 'vantage" at which it may be hostilely attacked, "La Juive" draws thousands to gaze at its splendour every time it is performed. Twice we attempted to get in without having secured places, and were told on both occasions that there was not even standing-room for gentlemen. Among its attractions are two which are alike new to me as belonging to an opera: one is the performance of the "Te Deum laudamus," and the other the entrance of Franconi's troop of horse. But, after all, it was clear enough that, whatever may have been the original object of this institution, with its nursery academies of music and dancing, its royal patronage and legalised extravagance, its present glory rests almost wholly on the talents of the Taglioni family, and with the sundry MM. décorateurs who have imagined and arranged the getting up this extraordinary specimen of scenic magnificence, as well as the many others of the same kind which have preceded it.