I had a glimpse of _it_ once. I was passing by the Grêve in a carriage,
about eleven o’clock, one morning, when a crowd impeded our progress. I
looked out of the window; a dense throng of men, women, and children
filled the place and the neighbouring streets. Above the crowd I saw a
kind of frame of red wood, which three men were building. I turned away
my head with disgust. Close to the carriage there was a woman who said
to a child, “Now, look! the axe slides badly; they are going to grease
the slide with a candle-end.”
They are probably doing the same now. Eleven o’clock has just struck. No
doubt they are greasing the slide.
Oh, unhappy creature! this time I shall not turn away my head.