Dance on, ye foolish ones; ye sought not wisdom, neither have ye found it.

Ye and your fathers have sown the wind, ye shall reap the whirlwind.

Was it not, from of old, written: The wages of sin is death?
But at Longchamp, as elsewhere, we remark for one thing, that dame and cavalier are waited on each by a kind of human familiar, named jokei.
Little elf, or imp; though young, already withered; with its withered air of premature vice, of knowingness, of completed elf-hood: useful in various emergencies.

The name jokei (jockey) comes from the English; as the thing also fancies that it does.

Our Anglomania, in fact , is grown considerable; prophetic of much.