We pelt each other with a hearty vigour, and discharge volleys of _confetti_ at every window where a fair English face appears.

The poor luckless nosegay or sugar-plum boys look upon us as their best friends, and follow our carriages with importunate pertinacity.

Fancy dresses of any kind are few.

There are one or two very young men--English, I suspect,--dressed as Turks, or Greeks, or pirates, after Highbury Barn traditions, looking cold and uncomfortable.
Half a dozen tumble-down carriages represent the Roman element.

They are filled with men disguised as peasant-women, and _vice versa_; but, whether justly or unjustly, they are supposed to be chartered for the show by the Government, and attract small comment or notice.