All this medley of beauty and magnificence coming and going allows me little time to look at (the procession itself). But at sundown where have all the lines of carriages and ranks of people gone to? In a moment hardly any are left. The rattle of carriages is heard no more, the blinds and the mats are all cleared away, and while I watch nothing is left save solitude, reminding me touchingly of life itself. Truly indeed to watch the high road is as good as looking at a procession.