like silver, in which he handed out his insipid brew. Who would
not long to drink out of a silver cup a beverage that flowed out
of a red and gold tank, covered with little silver bells, be it
never so mawkish?

The gardens of the Luxembourg were, if anything, even more
attractive than the Tuileries gardens.

Another delightful place for children was the Hippodrome, long
since demolished and built over. It was a huge open-air stadium,
where, in addition to ordinary circus performances, there were
chariot-races and gladiatorial combats. The great attraction of
the Hippodrome was that all the performers were driven into the
arena in a real little Cinderella gilt coach, complete with four
little ponies, a diminutive coachman, and two tiny little footmen.

Talking of Cinderella, I always wonder that no one has pointed out
the curious mistake the original translator of this story fell
into. If any one will take the trouble to consult Perrault's
Cendrillon in the original French, he or she will find that
Cinderella went to the ball with her feet encased in "des
pantoufles de vair." Now, vair means grey or white fur, ermine or
miniver. The word is now obsolete, though it still survives in
heraldry. The translator, misled by the similarity of sound
between "vair" and "verre," rendered it "glass" instead of
"ermine," and Cinderella's glass slippers have become a British
tradition. What would "Cinderella" be as a pantomime without the
scene where she triumphantly puts on her glass slipper? And yet, a
little reflection would show that it would be about as easy to
dance in a pair of glass slippers as it would in a pair of