seeing Ash Wednesday in a condition little better than he should be—e’en whipt him over his shoulders, pick-a-back fashion, & Old Mortification went floating home singing—“On the bat’s back do I fly,” & a number of old snatches besides, between drunk & sober; but very few Aves or Penitentiaries {you may believe me} were among them. Longest Day set off westward in beautiful crimson & gold—the rest, some in one fashion, some in another; but Valentine & pretty May took their departure together in one of the prettiest silvery twilights a Lover’s Day could wish to set in.