I, who know all the secrets of the fair, would charitably whisper to the imprudent gambler that there are always some accomplices in cant—“stallsmen”—amongst the lookers-on. These individuals are particularly addicted to loitering near the rifle saloons, and the games which require strength and skill. They it is who whisper at your back—
“Well shouldered! a little too low! What a pity! It would have broken the egg. Stop, Arthur, perhaps the gentleman will try again.”
The “gentleman” feels flattered, takes some silver from his pocket, and with an innocent air the proprietor of the saloon pours twelve caps into his hand.
The rifle-shooting, the hammers, and the rings are all manly sports. Ladies prefer the hobby-horses and the swinging-boats. You know what perfection has been attained in this last amusement for the gratification of those who, like Hippocrates, believe in the utility of spring remedies. They clear the system. From this point of view the new swinging-boats are serious rivals to all quack medicines. Those who have not travelled round the world can enjoy in these cars all the spasms of sea-sickness and every variety of giddiness. In these respects the old system gave full satisfaction to many worthy people; but it appears that, compared with the new fashion, like the apparatus in the Rue Basse du Rempart, the old swings were mere child’s play. Some travellers descend from this invention in much the same state as the wolf which Baron Munchausen turned inside out like a glove! Where will progress stop? But progress is very inconsiderate when it attempts to substitute velocipedes and wild beasts for the old hobby-horses. Have [p045] the inventors of these machines never spent one quarter of an hour in front of the old roundabouts? Have they never noticed the defiant, haughty glance which the young shopmen and little milliners throw at you as they pass in the course of their revolutions?
Those people are in a dream. For one whole minute they [p046] imagine themselves in a higher sphere, riding in couples through the woods. Intoxicated by the revolving motion which, through the necessary bend of the body nails them to the saddle, they feel like accomplished riders, incomparable horsewomen. Watch them there, ye pioneers of a mistaken progress, who have not taken the instincts of the heart into your calculation and cannot, therefore, understand the philosophy of hobby-horses! A little attention will yet avert the failure which threatens your riding-schools of velocipedes and carnivorous animals.
But these are all noisy amusements which the society people avoid. Do you remember, my dear friend, the drive we took outside the shows and bands, one fine Easter-Tuesday, brilliant with sunshine? You dared not leave your brougham, [p047] you were so alarmed at the hoarse roar of the crowd, the explosion of crackers, the shrieks of the women in the swings. Still you had one great desire that you would not own to me, half dreading a reproof, a wish evoked by a most appetizing odour which made your nostrils dilate.
“I am sure you are longing for some fried potatoes,” I cried triumphantly at last.
Ah! who would ever forget the glance with which your eyes rewarded me for guessing your fancy!