would not long to drink out of a silver cup a
beverage that flowed out of a red and gold tank, covered with little
silver bells, be it never so mawkish?

The gardens of the Luxembourg were, if anything, even more attractive
than the Tuileries gardens.

Another delightful place for children was the Hippodrome, long since
demolished and built over. It was a huge open-air stadium, where, in
addition to ordinary circus performances, there were chariot-races and
gladiatorial combats. The great attraction of the Hippodrome was that
all the performers were driven into the arena in a real little
Cinderella gilt coach, complete with four little ponies, a diminutive
coachman, and two tiny little footmen.

Talking of Cinderella, I always wonder that no one has pointed out the
curious mistake the original translator of this story fell into. If any
one will take the trouble to consult Perrault's Cendrillon in the
original French, he or she will find that Cinderella went to the ball
with her feet encased in "des pantoufles de vair." Now, vair means grey
or white fur, ermine or miniver. The word is now obsolete, though it
still survives in heraldry. The translator, misled by the similarity of
sound between "vair" and "verre," rendered it "glass" instead of
"ermine," and Cinderella's glass slippers have become a British
tradition. What would "Cinderella" be as a pantomime without the scene
where she triumphantly puts on her glass slipper? And yet, a little
reflection would show that it would be about as easy to dance in a pair
of glass slippers as it would in a pair of fisherman's waders.

I remember well seeing Napoleon III. and the Empress Eugenie driving
down the Rue de Rivoli on their return from the races at Longchamp. I
and my brother were standing close to the edge of the pavement, and
they passed within a few feet of us. They were driving in a
char-a-banes--in French parlance, "attele a la Daumont"--that is, with
four horses, of which the wheelers are driven from the box by a
coachman, and the leaders ridden by a postilion. The Emperor and
Empress were attended by an escort of mounted Cent-Gardes, and over the
carriage there was a curious awning of light blue silk, with a heavy
gold fringe, probably to shield the occupants from the sun at the
races. I thought the Emperor looked very old and tired, but the Empress
was still radiantly beautiful. My young brother, even then a bigoted
little patriot, obstinately refused to take