In Mousseau's sweet arcadian dale, Fair Delphine pours the plaintive strain; She charms the list'ning nightingale, And seems th' enchantress of the plain. Blest be those lips, to music dear! Sweet songstress! never may they move But with such sounds to soothe the ear, And melt the yielding heart to love! May sorrow never bid them pour From the torn heart one suffering sigh, But be thy life a fragrant flow'r, Blooming beneath a cloudless sky. CHAPTER XVII. _Curious Method of raising Hay.--Lucien Bonaparte's Hotel.--Opera.--Consular Box.--Madame Bonaparte's Box.--Feydeau Theatre.--Belle Vue.--Versailles.--The Palace of the Petit Trianon.--The Grounds._ The people of Paris, who keep horses in stables at the back of their houses, have a singular mode of keeping their hay in the lofts of their dwelling houses. At the top of a spacious and elegant hotel, is to be seen a projecting crane in the act of raising loads of winter provision for the stable. When I first saw this strange process, my surprise would scarcely have been increased, had I beheld the horse ascending after the hay. I must not forget to offer some little description of the opera, where, during my stay, through the politeness of Madame H----, I had free access to a private box. This spacious and splendid theatre is lighted from above by an immense circular lustre of patent lamps. The form of this brilliant light is in the antique taste, and it is said to have cost two thousand pounds sterling. The effect which it produces in the body of the theatre, and upon the scenery, is admirable. It prevents the sight from being divided, and distracted by girandoles. This establishment is upon so vast a scale, that government, which is the proprietor, is always a loser upon balancing the receipts and disbursements of each night. The stage and its machinery have for many years occupied a great number of the subordinate classes of people, who, if not employed in this manner, would in all probability become burdensome, and unpleasant to the government. To this circumstance is attributable the superiority of the machinery, and scenery, over every other theatre which I ever saw. In the english theatres, my eye has often been offended at the representations of the internal parts of houses, in which not a chair, or table is introduced, for the purpose of carrying on the ingenious deception. Upon the stage of the french opera, every scene has its appropriate furniture, and distinctive appendages, which are always produced as soon as the scene drops, by numerous attendants. From this attention to the minute circumstances of the drama, the illusion becomes enchanting. The orchestra is very fine, and is composed of ninety eminent musicians. The corps de ballet consists of between eighty and ninety fine dancers, of whom Monsieur Deshayes is the principal. His