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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. I was grateful. But you, Ferringhall, our pattern, an erstwhile Sheriff of London, a county magistrate, a prospective politician, a sober and an upright man, one who, had he aspired to it, might even have filled the glorious position of Lord Mayor— James, a whisky and Apollinaris at once. ‘Oh, my God, Melusine, what have I done?’ Melusine shook her head. I'd a good many things to say to you, besides—but you've put them all out of my head. Not my affair, of course, but I think we ought to teach them more or restrain them more.
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This video was uploaded to waterscolumns.info on 25-09-2024 23:27:26