. A WINTER FAIR AT BOULOGNE. 209 



prison garb, monotonously grinding the air, represent- 

 ing the travaux forces of the Bagne ; whilst the face 

 of one hideous criminal peeped through the iron bars, 

 moving his mouth mechanically. Then I entered this 

 veritable chamber of horrors, amidst the fanfare of 

 trumpets, the rattle of drums, and the peals of the 

 rich-toned hand-organ. In this exhibition I was again 

 doomed to be disappointed it was all glare, glitter, 

 tinsel, and horror outside ; but within it was merely 

 a representation by puppets, moving mechanically, 

 showing life in a prison. Then followed games of 

 chance, and I plunged into tombolas, lotteries, and 

 drawings for prizes madly, though never staking more 

 than two sous at a time, and rarely winning one of the 

 many glittering prizes offered to the gamester. More 

 fortunate were the matelotes, who bore off gilded 

 vases, figures of shepherds and shepherdesses, packets 

 of bonbons, toys, or whatever fell to their lot. All 

 was mirth, joviality, good-temper, and pleasantry ; not 

 a harsh word or coarse expression, and, above all, not 

 a sign of intoxication amongst the many revellers at 

 the Foire de St. Martin. A great desire being evinced 

 on the part of two of the ladies who were idling at 

 Boulogne to be photographed in the costume of the 

 matelotes a thing which is of daily occurrence when 

 the town is thronged with visitors we proceeded to 

 the home, in the Quartier de la Marine, of the once 

 famous Caroline, La Belle Ecaillere, and Queen of the 

 Halle au Poisson, in order to borrow costumes for the 

 occasion. Entering into the beautifully kept house, 

 we were met by the granddaughter of the noted 

 beauty of bygone days a lovely girl of sweet seven- 

 teen, fair, with light-brown wavy hair, blue eyes, an 



o 



