e honour disavow your brawl,
And outraged courage disapprove the call--
Till, steep'd in guilt, the devil sees his time,
And sudden death shall close a life of crime.

In front of some of the hotels you always observe a number of persons
engaged successively in throwing a ring, with which each endeavours to
encircle a knife handle, on a board, stuck all over with blades. If he
succeeds, he may pocket the knife; if not he pays half a franc, and is
free to throw again. It is amusing to observe how many half franc pieces
a Frenchman's vanity will thus permit him to part with, before he gives
over, consigning the ring to its owner, and the blades to his electrical
anathema of "_mille tonnerres!_" A little farther on, just beyond the
enclosure, is another knot of people. What are they about? They are
congregated to see what passengers embark or disembark (their voyage
accomplished) from the gay vessels, the whirligigs or merry-go-rounds
(which is the classical expression, let _purists_ decide _for
themselves_) which, gaily painted as a Dutch humming-top, sail overhead,
and go round with the rapidity of windmills.

In hopes to cheat their nation's fiend, "Ennui,"
_These_ cheat themselves, and _seem_ to go to sea!
Their galley launch'd, its rate of sailing fast,
Th' _Equator_ soon, and soon the _Poles_ they've past,
And here they come to anchorage at last!
_These_, tightly stirrupt on a wooden horse,
Ride at a ring--and spike it, as they course.
Thus with the aid that ships and horses give,
Life passes on; 'tis labour, but they live.--
And some lead "bouledogues" to the water's edge,
There hunt, _a l'Anglais_, rats amidst the sedge;
And some to "pedicures" present--their corns,
And some at open windows practise--horns!
In noisy trictrac, or in quiet whist,
These pass their time--and, to complete our list,
There are who flirt with milliners or books,
Or else with nature 'mid her meads and brooks.

But Gauthier's was our lounge, and therefore, in common gratitude, are
we bound particularly to describe it. Had we been Dr Darwin we had done
it better. As it is, the reader must content himself with _Scuola di
Darwin_--

In Gauthier's shop, arranged in storied box
Of triple epoch, we survey the rocks,
A learned nomenclature! Behold in time
Strange forms imprison'd, forms of every clime!
The Sauras quaint, daguerrotyped on slate,
Obsolete birds and mammoths out of date;