We regretted this, as rudely and harshly disturbing that veil of mystery which had hung about the property for many years, and which none but the noonday sun, and the late Mr.Simpson, had ever penetrated.

We shrunk from going; at this moment we scarcely know why.

Perhaps a morbid consciousness of approaching disappointment--perhaps a fatal presentiment--perhaps the weather; whatever it was, we did _not_ go until the second or third announcement of a race between two balloons tempted us, and we went.
We paid our shilling at the gate, and then we saw for the first time, that the entrance, if there had been any magic about it at all, was now decidedly disenchanted, being, in fact, nothing more nor less than a combination of very roughly-painted boards and sawdust.

We glanced at the orchestra and supper-room as we hurried past--we just recognised them, and that was all.

We bent our steps to the firework-ground; there, at least, we should not be disappointed.