QU ARTIER LATIN ITIES 47 



excessively naughty little girl fill a paper bag with 

 surreptitious handfuls of it and empty it into the 

 perambulator of a friend's baby, while the Nou-nous 

 were lost in a blind ecstasy of conversation. No one 

 but the baby witnessed the outrage, and the baby's 

 eye was that of a conspirator. Wliether the culprit 

 was eventually brought to justice I cannot say. My 

 opinion of her intelligence inclines me to the belief 

 that she was not. 



Taken as a class, the girls are the superiors of the 

 boys in the art of playing. They skip to perfection; 

 they are full of detail and mystery in their dust 

 grubbings; they are nimble, fearless and subtle. 

 But what could be more lamentable than the endeavour 

 of a French boy to throw a ball, unless it be his 

 endeavour to catch it ? Wliat more futile than his 

 manner of jumping, his prancing run ? what more 

 hopeless than his own complete satisfaction with these 

 performances ? He is not decorative, with his thick, 

 bare calves and his enveloping black pinafore; but 

 he has a goblin intelligence, a pretty manner with 

 his elders, and he rides with extravagant daring the 

 horses that rock backwards and forwards on springs 

 next door to the merry-go-round. 



Under the trees near the terrace stands the booth 

 of a Punch and Judy, with a small roped enclosure 

 in front of it. Early in the afternoon the proprietress 

 arranges chairs and benches for the spectators, and 

 then sits down in front of the curtain to wait for an 

 audience. She has a full, threatening eye, a slight 

 gi'ey moustache, and the stride of a Field-Marshal. 

 It is not surprising that her husband, stationed at 

 the other side with a harp, should be a weak-kneed, 

 amiable person, who would let children sneak in 

 under the rope if he dared. Most assuredly he does 

 not dare ; his part is to preface the entertainment with 



