"PROMENADE DU COURS" IN CARNIVAL TIME.
Here passes a man with two faces. His arms are neatly folded before, also behind. You cannot tell which is the real front, until, suddenly, a horse trots up and nearly touches noses, while the man moves on undisturbed. You meant to give that man a dash, but you forgot, he was so queer.
Ah! here comes a carriage of pretty girls. Down pours the shot from the balcony above. It rains on you like hail. It runs in rills down your back. You hold your recovered ears, and add your tone to the rippling, rippling laughter that flows on in silvery tide.
"PROMENADE DU COURS" IN CARNIVAL TIME.
Not one boisterous shout, not one impatient exclamation the whole livelong day; only everywhere the sound of childish glee. How good to see even old careworn faces lighted up with mirth!
Here goes an ostrich with a monkey on his back, then a man with a whole suit of clothes neatly fitted out of Journals.
But—look! look! there towers a huge car. Nay, it is a basket—a vegetable basket! but its sides are as high as our balcony. On its corners stand white carrots with their green waving tops upward. Around the edges are piled a variety of garden beauties.