It was now the high-road which was become the Park-hill.

The carriages dashed by each other as at a race; the people shouted and sung, if not as melodiously as the barcarole of the fisher men below Lido, still with the thorough carnival joy of the south.

The steamboat moved along the coasts.

From the gardens surrounding the pretty country-houses arose rockets into the blue sky, the Moccoli of the north above the Carnival of the Park.
Wilhelm remained with his young friends in the wood, and there they intended, with the stroke of twelve, to drink out of Kirsten's well.
Men and women, girls and boys of the lower class, and jovial young men, meet, after this manner, to enjoy St.John's Eve.

Still sounded the music, the swings were in motion, lamps hung out, whilst the new moon shone through the thick tree boughs.