"A shout from the crowd announced the arrival of the Butchers. First of all came the tender Butcher-infants, in scarlet coats, top-boots, and green velvet hats, borne in the arms of their fathers through the crowd in order that they might witness the fun. Then followed the scarlet officials:--and then came seven of the queerest beasts man ever set eyes on. What were they, if human? Were they seven Esquimaux chiefs, or seven African mumbo-jumbos? They were the heroes of the day--the seven Butcher-apprentices, clothed in fur caps and garments--covered from shoulder to heel with hundreds of dangling calves' tails--red, white, black, dun! "You may imagine the shouts that greeted them,--the peels of laughter. Up they sprang on the broad plank,--leaping, dancing, making their tails fly round like trundled mops. The crowd roared with laughter. A stately scarlet official--a butcher (_Altgesell_)--stands beside them on the plank. Ten times they drink the health of the royal family and prosperity to the butchers' craft. The _Altgesell_ then striking many blows on the shoulder of the nearest apprentice, frees him and all the remaining six from their indentures. They are henceforth full-grown butchers. Then, they plunge into the very centre of the fountain with a tremendous splash. The crowd shout,--the startled pigeons wheel in wild alarm above the heads and laughter of the crowd. The seven Tritons dash torrents of water on the multitude,--who fly shrieking and laughing before the deluge. The seven buckets are plied with untiring arms;--lads are enticed within aim by showers of nuts flung by the 'Leapers,' and then are drenched to the skin. It is a bewilderment of water, flying calves' tails, pelting nuts, and shrieking urchins. "The 'Leapers' then ascend out of their bath,--shake themselves like shaggy dogs,--have white cloths pinned round their necks as though they were going to be shaved,--and have very grand medals hung round their necks suspended by gaudy ribbons. "The procession retires across the market-place to its '_Herberge_,' and the crowd disperses,--but disperses only to re-assemble in various public-houses for the merriment of the afternoon and night. That night and the next day are 'the maddest, merriest of all the year.' Music is every where--dancing every where. It is the end of the Carnival. Ash Wednesday comes,--and then, all is gloom." NEGLECT OF THE PRESERVATION OF EGYPTIAN ANTIQUITIES.