In Normandy on the evening of Ash Wednesday it used to be the custom to hold a celebration called the Burial of Shrove Tuesday. A squalid effigy scantily clothed in rags， a battered old hat crushed down on his dirty face， his great round paunch stuffed with straw， represented the disreputable old rake who， after a long course of dissipation， was now about to suffer for his sins. Hoisted on the shoulders of a sturdy fellow， who pretended to stagger under the burden， this popular personification of the Carnival promenaded the streets for the last time in a manner the reverse of triumphal. Preceded by a drummer and accompanied by a jeering rabble， among whom the urchins and all the tag-rag and bobtail of the town mustered in great force， the figure was carried about by the flickering light of torches to the discordant din of shovels and tongs， pots and pans， horns and kettles， mingled with hootings， groans， and hisses. From time to time the procession halted， and a champion of morality accused the broken-down old sinner of all the excesses he had committed and for which he was now about to be burned alive. The culprit， having nothing to urge in his own defence， was thrown on a heap of straw， a torch was put to it， and a great blaze shot up， to the delight of the children who frisked round it screaming out some old popular verses about the death of the Carnival. Sometimes the effigy was rolled down the slope of a hill before being burnt. At Saint-L？ the ragged effigy of Shrove Tuesday was followed by his widow， a big burly lout dressed as a woman with a crape veil， who emitted sounds of lamentation and woe in a stentorian voice. After being carried about the streets on a litter attended by a crowd of maskers， the figure was thrown into the River Vire. The final scene has been graphically described by Madame Octave Feuillet as she witnessed it in her childhood some sixty years ago. My parents invited friends to see， from the top of the tower of Jeanne Couillard， the funeral procession passing. It was there that， quaffing lemonadethe only refreshment allowed because of the fastwe witnessed at nightfall a spectacle of which I shall always preserve a lively recollection. At our feet flowed the Vire under its old stone bridge. On the middle of the bridge lay the figure of Shrove Tuesday on a litter of leaves， surrounded by scores of maskers dancing， singing， and carrying torches. Some of them in their motley costumes ran along the parapet like fiends. The rest， worn out with their revels， sat on the posts and dozed. Soon the dancing stopped， and some of the troop， seizing a torch， set fire to the effigy， after which they flung it into the river with redoubled shouts and clamour. The man of straw， soaked with resin， floated away burning down the stream of the Vire， lighting up with its funeral fires the woods on the bank and the battlements of the old castle in which Louis XI. and Francis I. had slept. When the last glimmer of the blazing phantom had vanished， like a falling star， at the end of the valley， every one withdrew， crowd and maskers alike， and we quitted the ramparts with our guests.
In the neighbourhood of Tübingen on Shrove Tuesday a straw-man， called the Shrovetide Bear， is made up； he is dressed in a pair of old trousers， and a fresh black-pudding or two squirts filled with blood are inserted in his neck.
After a formal condemnation he is beheaded， laid in a coffin， and on Ash Wednesday is buried in the churchyard. This is called Burying the Carnival.
Amongst some of the Saxons of Transylvania the Carnival is hanged. Thus at Braller on Ash Wednesday or Shrove Tuesday two white and two chestnut horses draw a sledge on which is placed a straw-man swathed in a white cloth； beside him is a cart-wheel which is kept turning round. Two lads disguised as old men follow the sledge lamenting. The rest of the village lads， mounted on horseback and decked with ribbons， accompany the procession， which is headed by two girls crowned with evergreen and drawn in a waggon or sledge. A trial is held under a tree， at which lads disguised as soldiers pronounce sentence of death. The two old men try to rescue the straw-man and to fly with him， but to no purpose； he is caught by the two girls and handed over to the executioner， who hangs him on a tree. In vain the old men try to climb up the tree and take him down； they always tumble down， and at last in despair they throw themselves on the ground and weep and howl for the hanged man. An official then makes a speech in which he declares that the Carnival was condemned to death because he had done them harm， by wearing out their shoes and making them tired and sleepy. At the Burial of Carnival in Lechrain， a man dressed as a woman in black clothes is carried on a litter or bier by four men； he is lamented over by men disguised as women in black clothes， then thrown down before the village dung-heap， drenched with water， buried in the dung-heap， and covered with straw. On the evening of Shrove Tuesday the Esthonians make a straw figure called metsik or wood-spirit； one year it is dressed with a man's coat and hat， next year with a hood and a petticoat.
This figure is stuck on a long pole， carried across the boundary of the village with loud cries of joy， and fastened to the top of a tree in the wood.
The ceremony is believed to be a protection against all kinds of misfortune.
