Yet again has Mlle. Adeline Génée made welcome reappearances at the Coliseum, especially in “La Danse”--first produced, I believe, at the Metropolitan Opera House, New York--which formed a series of representations of the dances and dancers of the historic past--forming practically a collection of little cameos of the dance, having a distinct educational value and presenting a veritable re-creation of all the great stars of Ballet in the past, from Prévôt to Taglioni; in all of which the world-famous dancer exhibited the same high qualities of artistry that she had ever done. But among the many dance productions seen at this handsome house probably the two most satisfactory judged as ballet were the production of Mr. Wilhelm’s “Camargo,” with Mlle. Génée in the title-_rôle_; and M. Kosloff’s production of “Scheherazade,” the two forming an outstanding contrast in one’s memory. The former, with the quiet dignity, soft light and sumptuous stage embellishments of furniture and _décors_, and the dream-like quality assumed by the characters in this rich and harmonious setting. One found in it something of that visionary quality which gave the peculiar charm to the “Versailles” production which I spoke of in referring to the Empire. The music and the acting were so expressive that one did not miss the words, and yet half-consciously one knew they were not there just because of the dream-like atmosphere which the music itself so helped to create. The royal grace and dignity of Louis-Quinze, the butterfly vivacity of Camargo herself, and the more vital and quieter actions of her young soldier friend for whose misdeeds she pleads for pardon from the King, were all but dream figures in a dream, and it was as if the veil of the past had been suddenly drawn aside and one had a glimpse of a century seen through the half light of early dawn. Once more Mlle. Génée excelled herself in doing apparently impossible things with consummate ease, and once more one was glad to welcome the sensitive, expressive and scholarly work of so accomplished a musician as Miss Dora Bright. There was nothing of the cool and dream-like quality, however, about Mons. Kosloff’s “Scheherazade.” Exotic, bizarre, palpitant with warmth and colour, the production stormed the imagination with its extravagance of hue and tone, even as the tangled rhythms and seductive melodies of the music captured the hearing and through it subdued the mind to a sort of dazzled wonder. It was a stupendous achievement, the more so in that it was brief.