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Updated: June 2, 2025
One of the strange officers is so amusing; he looks exactly like the young man the Marquise de Vermandoise was walking in the Bois with, but it could not be he, as she seemed so surprised to see him at the Foire, and said they had not met for ages. The Comte sat on my other side; he said I would be greatly amused at the booths presently, and was I afraid of Montagnes Russes?
A small garden behind it masks its base; but you descend the hill to a large place de foire, ad- jacent to a fine old pubic promenade which is known as Les Jacobins, a sort of miniature Tuileries, where I strolled for a while in rectangular alleys, destitute of herbage, and received a deeper impression of vanished things.
I expressed to the French lady my admiration of St. Mark's Place. "C'est que vous n'avez jamais vue la foire St.
It is a very celebrated Foire, and in the last century every one went from Versailles, and even now lots of people who spend the summer there attend. You go in the evening after dinner, and there are no horrid cows and things with horns rushing about, or tipsy people.
I cannot help thinking that the King of Poland, the Empress of Russia, and the King of Prussia, 's'entendent comme larrons en foire', though the former must not appear in it upon account of the stupidity, ignorance, and bigotry of his Poles.
"It's the wan thing, sorr," says O'Flynn with solemnity "it's the wan thing on the top o' God's futstool that makes me feel I cud wurruk." "Not in this climate; and you're safe to take cold in the reaction." "Cowld is ut? Faith, ye'll be tellin' us Mr. Schiff got his toes froze wid settin' too clost be the foire."
"Oi niver could droive ayven a pig, on the brightest day that shone. Oi'll not fool wid a couple av strange horses, a wagon-load av foire an' brimstone, an' a brace av dead men, in the midst av Aygytian darkness. Not Oi." "Here, I kin drive two horses, anyway," said Abel Waite, climbing into the saddle. "I've done that much on the farm."
The Baronne and Héloise hate it, and never go in it except under protest. The Foire is just one very long street, with booths and merry-go-rounds, and Montagnes Russes, and all sorts of amusing things down each side. There are rows of poplar trees behind them, and evidently on ordinary occasions it is just the usual French road, but with all the lights and people it was gay.
Passing from Fondation to Foire in the same volume, also from the pen of Turgot, we see an almost equally striking example of the economic wisdom of the encyclopædic school.
"Come, come, jintlemin," called the Irish lad, sharply. "Take yer positions, fer Oi'm goin' t' give th' worrud." "This is your last chance to run away, Dutchy," faltered Ephraim, who seemed to be losing confidence. "Dis vos your lasd obbortunity to abologize, Yankee," said Hans, rather weakly. "Ready to foire at th' worrud," called Barney.
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