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120. Confectionville is a populous and merry city; thus it goes here every day. Let us walk farther, if you please."

They had only gone a few steps, when they came to the great market-place, which presented a wonderful sight. All the houses around were of sugared filagree work; gallery was built over gallery, and in the middle stood a tall obelisk of white and red sugared cream, while four curious, sweet fountains played in the air, of orgeat, lemonade, mead, and soda-water, and in the great basin were soft bruised fruits, mixed with sugar and cream, and touched a little by the frost.

But prettier than all this were the charming little people, who, by thousands, pushed and squeezed, knocked their heads together, huzzaed, laughed, jested, and sang—who had raised indeed that merry din which Maria had heard at a distance. Here were beautifully-dressed men and women, Armenians and Greeks, Jews and