“The dawn!” said Miss Miniver, with her glasses reflecting the fire like pools
of blood-red flame. Hurrying down the Haymarket, he was arrested by a crowd who were collected
round a street-singer. “We are not going the right way,” she exclaimed. Instead of which, more than half an hour has elapsed. On this side stood the instruments with which the
latter piece of pleasantry had been effected,—namely, a bucket filled with paint
and a brush: on that was erected a trophy, consisting of a watchman's rattle, a
laced hat, with the crown knocked out, and its place supplied by a lantern, a
campaign wig saturated with punch, a torn steen-kirk and ruffles, some halfdozen staves, and a broken sword.
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This video was uploaded to damaulifm.org on 30-06-2024 08:33:31