"It was a little after eight o'clock; the arc lamps had just come on, and the leaves of the elms cast swaying shadows on the graveled paths. Most of the younger children had gone home, but the carousel was crowded with older boys and girls and even a number of women and men. The ancient brewery horse went round and round at a slow, thoughtful pace; she did not have to hurry, for she moved in her own circuit a little distance from the merry-go-round, and a clever system of cogs and a shaft attached to the carousel made it spin at really a breezy clip. The tootled melodies of the carousel pipes vied with the music from the distant bandstand. The benches around the tables under the trees were comfortably occupied by family groups, and on the outskirts at smaller tables young couples made decorous love. Weaving in and out among the tables like great moths in the semi-darkness were the waiters, stout fellows in billowing white aprons and so deft at their trade they could carry five big and brimful glass steins in each hand and hustle them from bar to customer without spilling a drop. A few of the more waggish and vigorous waiters carried on their shuttlings in time to the band music. This was easy enough in moments of an ordinary Sousa march, but when the band swung into something really galloping like a polka everyone would hold his breath, fearing catastrophic collisions and splashings"