With that spirit of zealous self-sacrifice which becomes his office, your Correspondent has visited the great masqued ball at the Opera, that terminates the festivities of the Carnival. He was accompanied by the rising diplomatist GEORGE ERNEST CLARENCE PROTOCOL, whose filmy white choker, pink shirt, opal studs, and shining boots were truly an honour to his country. At one o'clock his Brougham whirled us rapidly to the theatre. The streets were alive with people. A masqued ball is a fête for those who can't go as well as for those who can. Riotous groups in costume were exchanging badinage with the crowd and each other as they converged to the great point of attraction. Flaring gas-lights illuminated the street down which we turned out of the Boulevard, and showed to advantage two bearded and cloaked warriors on horseback, who looked as if they might be part of the entertainment. More flaring gas-lights, like a butcher's shop on Saturday night; more picturesque mounted swordsmen--the Brougham pulls up, and we alight amid the respectful congratulations of the officials. We mount the stairs in company of masks, dominoes, and persons in ordinary evening dress, and pass into the Salle. The effect is bewildering, overwhelming. The theatre is open to the uttermost back wall, and, even so, barely holds the multitude of dancers. The orchestra is probably the noisiest in the world, but is nothing to the astounding din of the people. No words can describe the combination of the two. As for the spectacle, several thousand lunatics, in the violent stage, capering and gesticulating under a strong paroxysm of their malady, will present a faint picture of it. The madmen are all costumed, and resent the appearance of a black coat in their terrific orgies. Probably it reminds them of the medical gentlemen from whom they have escaped. There is a sprinkling of Greeks, knights, nobles of LOUIS THE THIRTEENTH, shepherdesses, court ladies, and so forth; but the prevalent costume of the men is the white and red of a Pierrot; of the ladies, the chemise and trowsers of a _débardeur_. It is this division that makes the most clamour and has the greatest enjoyment of the fun. Groups of the white figures with floured faces, tall hats, and streaming ribbons loll in the boxes, and hold a "chaffing" conversation with those below, which may be witty, but, at all events, is deafening. The young ladies in the embroidered shirts, satin pantaloons, and trim hats, beneath which their hair descends in long plaited tails, contribute at least their fair share to the uproar. But, besides, there are other characters not so intelligible. One grotesque shape is composed entirely of seaweed, or what looks like it; another is in rags, with carrots and turnips on his head; a third sports a chimney pot as a head dress; a fourth is surmounted by a weathercock. There is no limit to the fantastic combinations thus arrived at, which are generally more odd