Next appeared a group consisting of an old blind man, selling matches, and led by a dog—an excellent figure; a little girl, driving a wheelbarrow of apples, and calling them vociferously; and a middle-aged woman, crying the last dying speech of the latest executed murderer. Now a group of Circassian slaves; now a number of naval officers, arm and arm; now many curious groups of wandering musicians, ballad singers, and pedlars of various countries. Herds of foreign peasants; then came Turks, Jews, May-morning dancers; these last, children; their queen, a lovely little creature, leading a lamb by a wreath of roses, while the gaily decorated pole, with its many garlands, showered the fragrance of fresh flowers wherever it passed; then a group of archers of the Royal Edinburgh Society. In short, enumeration would be endless. Next appeared a set of gypsies, one of the figures very good—an old man with grey hair, and bent double, leading an excellent imitation of a small donkey, animated within by a little boy, and bearing on the centre of the sack, which was thrown across its back, an infant in wax, seemingly just able to sit in a little heap, by help of the old cloak, drawn tight about it; the deception complete. This group took the liberty of making a halt for a short time in the grove, where, under one of the old trees, they pitched a tent, and from a projecting branch of another, at a little distance, suspended a kettle, under which they set fire to some exquisite perfumes, in the form of faggots; while one of the youngest and prettiest of their party sat on the ground, blowing the embers to a flame, without other means than her own rosy lips; till, smoke and all, the gipsey encampment formed a very picturesque object.