Not to know how to knit in Shetland is like not knowing how to read at home. A little girl is taught the art before she can read; and, as a result, at every cottage will be found the spinning-wheel and the needles, while the feminine hands are never idle. It is one great means of support; and on Regent Street in London will be seen windows full of soft, white goods marked "Shetland Hosiery." Who first instructed these far northern people in this delicate art is not surely known. On Fair Isle, one of the Shetland group, the art is first said to have been discovered, very many years ago. On that lonely isle even now, every woman, girl and child knits while working at any of her various duties. The yarn with which the Shetland goods are made is spun from the wool of the sheep we see roaming about the fields. In almost every cottage may be seen the veritable old-fashioned wheel; and the busy girl at the treadle sends the great wheel flying, and spins out the long skeins, which serve to make baby pretty hood or grandma a warm shawl. MARDI GRAS IN NICE. Have you ever happened in Nice at Carnival? On a bright June morning, which my calendar called February twelfth, Rull and I tripped lightly down through the old olive orchards to the station, and billeted ourselves for Nice. Long before we reached Nice Rull's hands tingled; for there lay a beautiful line of snow, miles away, on the _north_ side of the Alps, and the poor fellow hadn't been as near a snow-ball as that for the winter. But I had only to say "_confetti!_" and his eyes danced at the vision of the parti-colored hailstorm to come. Now hasten with us at once to the _Promenade du Cours_, up and down which the procession is to pass. First, however, I shall buy for you each a little blue gauze mask; for you cannot even peep at Carnival unmasked. And if any of you can wear linen dusters with hoods attached, all the better. Don't leave a square inch of skin unprotected, I warn you. [Illustration: "PROMENADE DU COURS," IN CARNIVAL TIME.] Besides the little masks, you may buy, each of you, a whole bushel of these "sugar-plums," and have them sent to our balcony. Also for each a little tin scoop fastened on a flexible handle, which you are to fill with _confetti_ but on no account to pull--at least, not yet. The crowds are gathering. Pretty peasant girls in their holiday attire of bright petticoats, laced bodices, and white frilled caps; stray dominoes; richly dressed ladies with mask in hand; carriages so decorated with flowers as to be artistically hidden--even the wheels covered with batiste--blue, pink, purple, green or buff. Even the sidewalk, as we pass, is fringed with chairs at a franc each. [Illustration: "PROMENADE DU COURS" IN CARNIVAL TIME.] The "_Cours_" is gay with suspended banners, bright with festooned balconies and merry faces. Sidewalks and street are filled with people; but the horses have the right of way, and the people are fined if they are run over.