The very strollers in the fields on that day look anything but comfortable.

What secrets the listening leaves are told, As strollers along worn wood-paths pass, And a beautiful blaze is all the wold!

Tradition says that it was a beautiful moonlight night and that the strollers on the Battery were mystified, and wondered what kind of fish were being trolled for.

Jean slipped into the circle, urged by the instinct that draws a stroller with nothing to do to the neighbourhood of light and noise and that love of a crowd which is characteristic of your Parisian.