hear, throughout, a precision, clearness, and brilliancy of touch—­together with a facility of execution, and fulness of instrumental tone—­which almost impresses you with the conviction that the performers were born musicians.  The principal opera house, or rather that in which the principal singers are engaged, is near the palace, and is called Im Theater naechst dem Kaernthnerthoc.  Here I saw the Marriage of Figaro performed with great spirit and eclat.  A young lady, a new performer of the name, of Wranizth, played Susannah in a style exquisitely naive and effective.  She was one of the most natural performers I ever saw; and her voice seemed to possess equal sweetness and compass.  She is a rising favourite, and full of promise.  Madame Hoenig played Mazelline rather heavily, and sung elaborately, but scientifically.  The Germans are good natured creatures, and always prefer commendation to censure.  Hence the plaudits with which these two rival syrens were received.

The other, opera house, which is in the suburbs, and called Schauspielhause, is by much the larger and more commodious place of entertainment.  I seized with avidity the first opportunity of seeing the Zauberfloete here, and here also I saw Don Giovanni:  the former as perfectly, in every respect, as the latter was inefficiently, performed.  But here I saw the marvellous ballet, or afterpiece, called Die Berggeist; and I will tell you why I think it marvellous.  It is entirely performed by children of all ages—­from three to sixteen—­with the exception of the venerable-bearded old gentleman, who is called the Genius of the Mountain.  The author of the piece or ballet “von herrn Ballet-meister”—­is Friedrich Horschelt: who, if in such a department or vocation in society a man may be said (and why should he not?) to “deserve well of his country,” is, I think, eminently entitled to that distinction.  The truth is, that, all the little rogues (I do not speak literally) whom we saw before us upon the stage—­and who amount to nearly one hundred and twenty in number—­were absolutely beggar-children, and the offspring of beggars, or of the lowest possible classes in society.  They earned a livelihood by the craft of asking alms.  Mr. Horschelt conceived the plan of converting these hapless little vagabonds into members of some honest and useful calling.  He saw an active little match girl trip across the street, and solicit alms in a very winning and even graceful manner—­“that shall be my columbine,” said he:—­and she was so.  A young lad of a sturdy form, and sluggish movement, is converted into a clown:  a slim youth is made to personate harlequin—­and thus he forms and puts into action the different characters of his entertainment... absolutely and exclusively out of the very lowest orders of society.