shame--from the upper rivers--who will not keep their seats--who ply the
bottle, and who will get home by and by and tell how wicked Sodom is;
broad-brimmed, silver-braided Mexicans, too, with their copper cheeks
and bat's eyes and their tinkling spurred heels. Yonder, in that quieter
section, are the quadroon women in their black lace shawls--and there is
Baptiste; and below them are the turbaned black women, and there is--but
he vanishes--Colossus.

The afternoon is advancing, yet the sport, though loudly demanded, does
not begin. The _Américains_ grow derisive and find pastime in gibes and
raillery They mock the various Latins with their national inflections,
and answer their scowls with laughter. Some of the more aggressive shout
pretty French greetings to the women of Gascony, and one bargeman, amid
peals of applause, stands on a seat and hurls a kiss to the quadroons.
The mariners of England, Germany, and Holland, as spectators, like the
fun, while the Spaniards look black and cast defiant imprecations upon
their persecutors. Some Gascons, with timely caution, pick their women
out and depart, running a terrible fire of gallantries.

In hope of truce, a new call is raised for the bull: "The bull, the
bull!--hush!"

In a tier near the ground a man is standing and calling--standing head
and shoulders above the rest--callimg in the _Américaine_ tongue.
Another man, big and red, named Joe, and a handsome little Creole in
elegant dress and full of laughter, wish to stop him, but the
flat-boatmen, ha-ha-ing and cheering, will not suffer it. Ah, through
some shameful knavery of the men, into whose hands he has fallen, he is
drunk! Even the women can see that; and now he throws his arms wildly
and raises his voice until the whole great circle hears it. He is