New-York daily tribune. [volume] (New-York [N.Y.]) 1842-1866, 1843-07-12

and lonely; for the gay placards, announcing d
festive scene for the night. and winch sceineu 10
give elasticity and tone to the passer-oy' arc seen
no more The Opcra-House looks silent and de-
serted. and all the people seem to feel the effect
Of this sudden suspension OF all their festivities.
The cburcl, bells have solemn tone the car
RACES do not move so briskly through the streets,
and the shops no longer hang out their fiashy
costumes TO cntcc the gay masker or dancer OF
the coming evening You cannot conceive the
effect of this sudden change from the excess Of
every pleasure to none at all. The festivities Of
the Carnival 90 Oh increasing to It's close, even to
the yerv last hour. And when the great bell of
the Cathedral strikes the hour of twelve, sending
its slow and solemn peal over the city, the dlssl-
patton Of the people is at its highest pitch. The
city fairly reels under the boisterous mirh of that
last hour OF Carnival knowing that forty days
Lent is before them, they crowd the flying minutes
TO ovcrfowing with pleasures. But when the
hammer of that dcep-toncd bell announces that
the last hour and the last minute have expired,
all is changed, and the maskcr and the dancer
throw aside their folles and repair to the Churches
to offer up their prayers and confessions.
They have one curious custom, however, at the
Theatre on the last night. The Pit is cleared Of
its seats, and it and the stage together form one
grand hall. The whole is brilliantly Illuminated
and filled with maskers and dancers The la,o
is, that no dance shall be commenced after the
great bell of the Cathedral has struck the hour
OF midnight. They are not required, however,
to stop In the middle of one already commenced,
but are permitted to dance it out. Taking ad-
vantage of this law just before midnight they
divide the Orchestra and form d new dance
One part of the Orchestra rest till the other be-
come fatigued when they relieve them. There
are always enough dancers to keep the set full,
and yet half the company be resting. In this
way the dance is not ended till two o'clock. BY
this simple process they cheat the Church out OF
two good hours AS | remarked, the last night
is the gayest of all: so is the last day, with the
exception, perhaps, of the last Sabbath. On
these two days they mask in the streets. 1t was
an odd spectacle to sec the entire length OF the
man artery of the city literally packed with
human heads, most. of them not attempting to
move forward, but standing still to see the car
riages and grotesquc figures pass and repass.
The carriages would come together IN "a long
tram tho horses on "a slow walk to escape tram
ping the multitude under foot, filled with men,
women and children trckcd out in every cos
tune the fancy could invent. 1t was impos
sble to distinguish between footmen, drivers
and their lords, except from the different places
they occupied. Now would pass nch car
rage with it's coat of arms, and filled with
men and women OF the thirteenth century. Be
hind it, four painted and grotcsquc figures on
four ponies reading aloud magnificent 'r1A,
begueathing any amount of property to whoever
could get it. Now would pass butfoon on foot
with an immense wooden paddle with hole IN
it SIX inches across for a quizzlng glass. Next
on donkeys three persons whom | took from the
cut of their boots which danged below Their
dress, to be American officers. One was in the
costume of a woman with Il bonnet on, rich
lace shawl over her shoulders and white dress
which (as she rode astride) was pulled back over
the tail of the donkey and descended nearly to
the ground. The large, rich houncc dangled
around his tetterlocks, and drew pcas Of laugh
Ter from the spectators. Noses as long as your
arm and steeple hats would project from some
elegant carriage An old woman would. meet
you carrying doll baby and weeping pitcously
over It's misorunes. As the long train OF car
riagcs approached, the crowd, that literally cram
med the entire street, would slowly part, like
waves before moving vessel, and when 1t had
passed. like those waves they would again close
in behind. In the villages out of the city every
public square was filed with gay dancers bound
ing merrily under the light of a pleasant sun in
an Italian heaven. But amid all the shifting
and fantastic characters that moved and sported
around me, there was one plain unmasked figure
that interested me more than all. 1t was an old
blind man that | had often seen in the streets
when the sun was pleasant and the air was mild,
led by little child. To-day he was alone. At
first thought was mistaken. 1t could not be
he-thus left alone amid the josthng multitude.
But there was the same WOODEN cap over the
gray hairs--the same old rusty surtout coat-the
same sghtiess eyebas. He had selected part
Of the street less thronged than the rest, and was
feeling his way through the Strada Balbi-one
hand slowly passing along the walls Of the pala-
css, and the other TREMENDOUSLY graspng stou,
cane. But why was he there alone 50 sad and
mournful? He could see nothing of this abound
Ing gaiety, and his countenance wore none of the
misth that made the street ring around him. Nc
one watched hm--no ono seemed to care Tor hum
He seemed walking reproof of the hlgh-blood
ed and careless youth that shouted by. As
Watched him hugging the wall, that he might no
be caught away and borne off By the LIVING
Stream aud Nth Slnu. and unsteady stems thread