to manly combatants; there were Amazonian
jousts, which threw the others far into the shade.
Now and then a squad of gendarmes would
rush in upon a party of combatants, and with
loud voices and much gesticulation seek to end
the fray—for this orange pelting is really against
the law—but then the opponents of those thus
interfered with, would pour down a resistless
volley upon the agents of order, who would
thereon ignominiously retreat. No one was
safe from the juicy missiles, which flew to and
fro as far as the eye could see on either side;
and the screaming, and laughing, and howling,
and " sacrrre-bleu"-ing could be heard echoing
everywhere through the narrow streets of the
usually drowsy old town.

The shops were all closed, excepting that
here and there some enterprising tradesman
had lent out his windows (at a napoleon
apiece); the church bells were ringing lustily;
over the public buildings the national tricolour
had been raised in honour of the festivity; and
every now and then would emerge from some
side street a long train of peasants, in the
quaint costume of their district, who had
trudged, mayhap, some dozen miles that morning,
to have their share of the Carnival frolic.
In the street which lay below us, narrow, and
enclosed between six and seven-story houses,
a rolling, running, shouting crowd were tiding
this way and that, without method or distinction;
a mosaic of peasants and shopkeepers, of
portly old aristocrats and blue-blouses, of boys
and policemen, of devils and crusaders,
harlequins and Turks, Bottoms and bandits—the
scene and colour changing with kaleidoscopic
swiftness; a pandemonium of noises, from the
famous Breton fish cry, to the discordant
squeaks of violins and the many-keyed
caterwauling of the less musical mass. In the midst
of the crowd struggled painfully the long line of
vehicles which made up the procession of the
Carnival. These were of every imaginable sort;
there were the carriages and four of the prefect
and of the mayor, sandwiched between boxes
on wheels and rustic donkey carts; there were
the stately lookers-on from the aristocratic
Cour St. Pierre, and the humble but witty
masquers from the neighbouring villages.
Mingled together, and jumbled into an almost
indistinguishable mass, was this medley of
classes, for one day democratically free and
equal, enjoying that "one touch of nature,"
love of humour, which "makes the whole world
kin." I never shall forget Monsieur the
Prefect, as he sat in his carriage with its heraldic
blazon, its powdered and gold fringed coachman
and footman, with a half-embarrassed smile
upon his face; while all about him was this
weird mass of boisterous masquers, waging
their orange war, and giving to the picture of
official dignity a most ludicrous frame indeed.
The vehicles which contained the masquers
were laughable enough. Now, you would see a
moving castle, with its bastions, its turrets, its
port holes, and its donjon-keep; and from its
towers, burlesque knights in cuirass and helmet,
would pelt right and left, supplied with an
armoury of oranges; while their paper shields
would soon yield to the energetic response of
the balconies above. Next, would come an
imitation house, out of whose windows masculine
bonnes were leaning and fighting with
Amazonian force. Anon, you would observe
a countryman, in the costume of some remote
village, prancing along on his donkey, and
mimicking to the life rustic angularity. A
favourite joke seemed to be to imitate the
street beggars who were familiar to the town,
There was a cart fitted up as a circus; and here
were chattering clowns, and mock acrobats,
and pretentious ballet dancers, ludicrously like.
There were men dressed as bonnes, who rushed
about with bonne-like nervousness, and seized
the opportunity to kiss the genuine bonnes
(provided they were pretty), who were so
unlucky as to come in their way. One little
urchin, besmirched from top to toe, who was
mounted on a donkey cart, whisked off a
gendarme's chapeau, and clapped it on his own
stubby head, replacing it by his greasy and
fragmentary cap; then rode dancing off, screaming
with glee; while the guardian of order,
inclined to be severely indignant, yet unable to
resist the infectious merriment about him,
hastened laughing after him.

One of the spectrums that whisked by, was a
sheaf of corn, whose ears flapped to and fro in
harmony with its movement, and which showed
certain very clear indications of being a sheaf
of the gentler sex. In the midst of the
procession was a Tower of Babel, with little figures
of workmen employed in erecting that piece of
presumptuous architecture. Here, stalked by
an apparently marble pedestal, which anon
would stop, and stand stock still, as if it had been
rooted to the spot for ages; and confidential
couples, who had something very particular to
say, would conceal themselves behind it, the
occupant of the pedestal listening with great
glee to their muttered confidences. The variety
of illustrations from natural history—the bears,
and kangaroos, and gorillas, and giraffes—
would have shamed the Zoological Gardens;
while the Grand Exposition was well nigh
outdone by the representatives of all nations,
who hurried along. Underneath the windows,
where the Breton belles sat laughing at the
scene, a group of serenaders, decked in romantic
costumes, would stop, and howl forth a
burlesque lute scene from Don Giovanni; while,
at a little distance, some dancers, setting a
table on the side-walk, would proceed to
perform thereon a rollicking "break-down," to the
general delight.

And so round and round, for four mortal
hours, this quaint procession wound, and the
thousands of throats, becoming hoarser and
hoarser as the day advanced, sustained their
unremitting hubbub. At length the carriages
and the donkey-carts, the chaises and the
castles, as they repassed, showed signs of a
long and severe siege. There were oranges
and orange-juice everywhere; broken pieces of