despite its uncontrolled exuberance of revelry, would have seemed
strangely quiet, since neither steam-organ nor hooter nor hurdy-gurdy
was there to overwhelm the ear with crashing waves of gigantic sound.
But if the special phenomena of a later day were missing from the
carnival, others, as astonishing to us as the steam-organ would have
been to those uncouth roisterers, were certainly present. Chief,
perhaps, among these was the man who retailed the elixir of youth, the
veritable _eau de jouvence_, to credulous drinkers at sixpence a bottle.
This magician, whose dark mysterious face and glittering eyes indicated
a strain of Romany blood, and whose accent proved that he had at any
rate lived much in Yorkshire, had a small booth opposite the watch-house
under the Town Hall. On a banner suspended in front of it was painted
the legend:

THE INCA OF PERU'S
ELIXER OF YOUTH
SOLD HERE.
ETERNAL YOUTH FOR ALL.
DRINK THIS AND YOU WILL NEVER GROW OLD
AS SUPPLIED TO THE NOBILITY & GENTRY
SIXPENCE PER BOT.
WALK IN, WALK IN, &
CONSULT THE INCA OF PERU.

The Inca of Peru, dressed in black velveteens, with a brilliant scarf
round his neck, stood at the door of his tent, holding an empty glass in
one jewelled hand, and with the other twirling a long and silken
moustache. Handsome, graceful, and thoroughly inured to the public gaze,
he fronted a small circle of gapers like an actor adroit to make the
best of himself, and his tongue wagged fast enough to wag a man's leg