every open space; they flaunt from every stall.
The prolific bird who has of late produced so
many golden eaglets in France, has
handsomely strewn his burnished young
hereabouts, and they glisten from every high place.

Against every wall are huge placards,
headed "Fête des hoges;" conspicuously
parading the fact that in the depth of
the forest, visitors will find innumerable
"kitchens in the open air." To the unearthly
music of a Parisian driver we rumble
heavily through the streets, are duly stared
at from every gateway, and find ourselves
soon on a broad road cut deep into the
noble forest of St. Germains. The road is gay
with holiday-makers. Grisettes hooked on
the arms of broad-trousered students are
walking rapidly to the scene of action;
women laden with gingerbread; vendors of
brandy and liquorice water, wearing cocked
hats; daring fellows in blouses, whom we
should not like to meet in this forest, after
dark; shrivelled old ladies, wearing snow-
white caps and the bluest of blue stockings;
lovers not intent upon a mere dinner of love;
sturdy porters laden with melons—all are
advancing rapidly into the depths of this
noble forest. Far away in the shade of the
trees, are pairs flirting desperately; here and
there, are pic-nic parties laughing over a
banquet laid out at the road-side. It is a
long ride to the fair. Presently we hear the
braying of the hoarsest conceivable trumpets,
and—of course—the most vigorous drumming.
A little exercise of patience brings us to a
square open place crowded with every
description of vehicle, and gay with the
tri-colour pendant on all sides. The drums are
rolling far away in the depths of the forest;
the trumpets are braying close to our ears;
gingerbread merchants are loud in their
assertion that their several offers are the
cheapest in the fair.

The booths are all pitched upon some open
ground, nearly surrounded by the splendid
timber of the forest. These booths are built
after the fashion of English booths, and are
remarkable to a stranger, chiefly for the odd
collection of merchandise they contain: a
collection usually presided over by a very solemn
man wearing a ferocious beard, who generally
walks up and down behind his counter,
his hands dipped into the capacious pockets
of his capacious trousers, calling aloud at
intervals to the passers-by to patronise the
boutíque at six sous. The attractions of his
booth include soaps of all colours and
patterns; heaps of fragrant pastilles; pipes of
all descriptions, and wooden pipe-boxes;
baby dolls bandaged, alas! after the fashion
of French babies in the flesh, and slung up
by a hook to the counter; drums of all sizes;
gorgeous jewellery made of the very best
copper, generally pretty in design; acres of
the darkest gingerbread, for the most tempting
lumps of which the visitor is invited to
gamble; chocolate most fantastically shaped
toy helmets and swords for warriors in the
bud. Before this show, are grouped fierce
military men; blouses lounging lazily; smart,
shrill-voiced grisettes; grave old ladies
surrounded by clamorous grandchildren, and
attended by prim nurses. You may see a
tall cuirassier seriously try the tone of a six
sous trumpet, you may have a turn at the
dial for some gingerbread, and walk off,
the triumphant purchaser of two chocolate
whistles. When out for a day's holiday all
French men and French women are children;
and this is a very pleasant and a very good
quality that they have. Thus, when we
advanced into the heart of the fair, we
heard the ringing laughter of the people
who were patronising the round-abouts.
On the round-about wooden horses were
dangling, three abreast, at regular spaces,
and the proprietor was inviting the spectators
to occupy the vacant saddles, before he
proceeded to turn the machine. Gravely enough
an old gentleman advanced, and, politely
assisted by the proprietor, took his seat upon
a wooden charger; he was hardly settled in
his place before a cavalry corporal, at least
six feet high, proceeded to occupy the next
saddle. And thus the places were rapidly
filled. As the machine went round, it was
curious to notice the people who were enjoying
the fun of it. Old ladies of sixty, children
of various ages, a sombre man in spectacles,
laughing students, bearded blouses, were all
grouped in the revolving circle, and were all
decidedly enjoying the sport. From this
curious picture, we turned to the other sights
of the fête des hoges.

We counted, amongst these, five or six
distinct giantesses; one lady with a beard;
two piebald boys (portraits of whom were
exhibited, and looked like the paintings half
cleaned, displayed by picture-revivers); a
magician who effected the instant disappearance
of a horse and two boys; skittles to
which the visitor was tempted by the
prospect of winning fowls or pigeons! And
then, attracted by savoury odours everywhere
perceptible, we sought that quarter of
the fair devoted exclusively to the benefit of
the cooks. Here, were the kitchens in the open
air—all pitched under the shade of fine trees.

We recognised M. Victor at once, although
he had doffed his suit ot black, and was now
in the famed livery of Vatel. His fire was
of charcoal, and was thrown against a huge,
upright, smooth-faced stone. Over this,
extended two or three horizontal spits, each
about two yards in length, loaded with various
delicacies. One spit had been run through
not less than nine fowls, all broiling in a
row; upon another, about twenty pigeons
were impaled; a third had been driven
through a substantial joint of veal. At one
side, were copper vessels, all steaming and
sending forth most fragrant odours; at the
other a huge cauldron of soup was bubbling.
Behind this kitchen (which was further