or, The Silver Skates 353

 

EVERY MAN HAD HIS PIPE.

people: so they are generally. But listen ! did ever you hear
such a din? All made up of human voices — no, the horses
are helping somewhat, and the fiddles are squeaking pitifully ;
(how it must pain fiddles to be tuned!) but the mass of the
sound comes from the great vox humana that belongs to a
crowd.

That queer little dwarf, going about with a heavy basket,
winding in and out among the people, helps not a little. You
can hear his shrill cry above all other sounds, “ Pypen en
tabac! Pypen en tabac!” .

Another, his big brother, though evidently some years
younger, is selling doughnuts and bonbons. He is calling on
all pretty children, far and near, to come quickly, or the cakes
will be gone.

You know quite a number among the spectators. High
up in yonder pavilion, erected upon the border of the ice, are
some persons whom you have seen very lately. In the centre
ts Madame van Gleck. It is her birthday, you remember :
she has the post of honor. There is Mynheer van Gleck,
whose meerschaum has not really grown fast to his lips: it

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