d and
dropped at fitting intervals, and the drop curtain was made to represent
a massive castle door. There was a banquet chamber, with faultless
reproductions of mediaeval grandeur and wonder. Stained glass windows
represented well-known and attractive ladies, and there were other
marvelous and costly innovations which seemed practically impossible
within a theatre.

At this ball, as at all others, the revelry proceeded until midnight.
Just as Cinderella left the ball when the clock struck 12, so do the
holders of the Creole revels stop dancing immediately that Lent has
commenced. The next day all is over. Men who the night before were the
leaders in the masquerade, resume their commonplace existence, and are
seen at the ordinary seats of custom, buying and selling and conducting
themselves like Eastern rather than Southern men.

The carnival idea has not been confined to strictly Southern cities. St.
Louis has, for many years in succession, enjoyed the pageants and balls
of its Veiled Prophets, an organization as secret and mysterious as any
to be found in a Creole section. Instead of being a Mardi Gras
celebration, the St. Louis pageant is given during the Indian summer
days of the first week of October. The parade takes place after
night-fall, and consists of very costly pageants and displays. It is no
exaggeration to say that hundreds of thousands of dollars have been
spent in illuminating the streets through which the processions have
passed, the money for this purpose being freely subscribed by business
men and private citizens. But in St. Louis, as in New Orleans, no one
knows who finds the money to pay for the preparation of the pageant, the
rich and varied costumes, the exquisite invitations and souvenirs, and
the gorgeous balls. Readers of the "Pickwick Papers" will remember that
when certain members of the club proposed to make a tour of the country,
with a view to noting matters of special interest, it was unanimously
resolved not to limit the scope of the investigations, and to extend to
the investigators the privilege of paying their own expenses. Very much
the same rule prevails in regard to the Creole carnivals and balls, and
the adaptation of the idea in other cities. The utmost secrecy is
preserved, and it is considered bad form in the extreme to even hint at
belonging to any of the secret orders. The members subscribe all
expenses themselves without a moment's hesitation, and there has never
been s