etmeats, and covering them with showers of
flour. It was a season of universal license, and, short of actual
outrage, all was permitted for the time. Nor did the enjoyment of the
scene seem to be confined to the poorer classes of the people, who thus
for the nonce assumed equality with their richer neighbors; but all,
even to the very highest, mixed in the wild excitement of the pageant,
and took the rough treatment they met with in perfect good-humor.
Dukes and princes, white from head to foot with the snowy shower, went
laughingly along, and grave dignitaries were fain to walk arm-inarm
with the most ludicrous monstrosities, whose gestures turned on them
the laughter of all around. Occasionally--but, it must be owned,
rarely--some philosopher of a sterner school might be seen passing
hurriedly along, his severe features and contemptuous glances owning
to little sympathy with the mummery about him; but even _he_ had to
compromise his proud disdain, and escape, as best he might, from the
indiscriminate justice of the crowd. To detect one of this stamp, to
follow, and turn upon him the full tide of popular fury, seemed to be
the greatest triumph of the scene. When such a victim presented himself,
all joined in the pursuit: nuns embraced, devils environed him, angels
perched on his shoulders, mock wild boars rushed between his legs; his
hat was decorated with feathers, his clothes inundated with showers of
meal or flour; hackney-coachmen, dressed as ladies, fainted in his arms,
and semi-naked bacchanals pressed drink to his lips. In a word, each
contributed what he might of attention to the luckless individual, whose
resistance--if he were so impolitic as to make any--only increased the
zest of the persecution.

An instance of this kind had now attracted general attention, nor was
the amusement diminished by the discovery that he was a foreigner and an
Englishman. Impertinent allusions to his nation, absurd attempts at his
language, ludicrous travesties of what were supposed to be his native
customs, were showered on him, in company with a hailstorm of mock
bonbons and lime-pellets; till, covered with powder, and outraged
beyond all endurance, he fought his way into the entrance of the Hotel
d'Italie, followed by the cries and laughter of the populace.

"Cursed tomfoolery! Confounded asses!" cried he, as he found himself in
a harbor of refuge. "What the devil fun can they discover in making each
other dirtier than their