He got tired of gazing and wondering, and even began to smile with contempt at the silly fops as they sauntered along, and the gayly dressed ladies, that flaunted like so many idle butterflies, on the sidewalk.

It was an exciting scene; but it did not look real to him.

It was more like Herr Grunderslung's exhibition of the magic lantern, than anything substantial.

The men and women were like so many puppets.

They did not seem to be doing anything, or to be walking for any purpose.
He got out of the butcher's cart at the Old South.