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"Falstaff," Verdi's last opera, written in his eightieth year and yet one of the most effervescent and ebullient works ever contrived for the lyric stage, had its first repetition of the season yesterday afternoon at the Metropolitan. It was a notable performance, many-faceted with individual excellence. First of all there was Mr. Serafin, spinning his fine web of intricate and amazing sound with a sure and supple baton, sharply pointed with humor. Then there was Mr. Scotti, the invincible, sleek and unctuous kernel in the excessive husk of the fat knight, singing as well, perhaps better than we would have any right to expect, and spreading a contagion of good humor and high spirits among all his colleagues in the afternoon's adventure.

Mme. Alda, as Anne, the sweet young thing, did some very uneven singing, and looked very charming. At her best, that is in the higher flights of head tones, she produced some of the most finely shaped and delicious notes to be heard upon that stage - then suddenly, as if modestly erasing any embarrassing virtuosity, she capped her achievement with an unfortunate croak or a lapse of pitch.

Editha Fleischer, one of the newcomers in the company, assumed the role of Mistress Ford, hitherto the sprightly possession of Miss Bori. Miss Fleischer thereby shed the last remnants of her debutante verdure and proved that our suspicions (aroused over her contribution to the charms of the Three Ladies in "Magic Flute") are well founded; she is an accomplished artist of the stage, a singer who knows her business and is gifted with some personal graces and a soprano voice of pleasing, clean-cut. often brilliant texture.

Miss Telva and Miss Howard, the contralto wing of the merry wives' quartet, distinguished themselves as formerly in the roles of Dame Quickly and Mistress Page; and Lawrence Tibbett, returned to the part which brought him his first fame, sang Ford's monologue and the lesser gestures of the interpretation with the doting and delighted air of a parent toward his favorite child.

Messrs. Bada, Paltrinieri and Didur were sufficiently comic, and Mr. Tokatyan, the lover of the vivacious Anne, wooed her in the most unlovely accents, at variance with the other excellences of his performance. Mention must also be made of the pungent low comedy of the innkeeper in the gifted hands of Ludwig Burgstaller. There was the usual large subscription audience, strangely apathetic to the artistic delights spread for their edification.

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