STREET SCENES. 113 



crosses another broad road, and we are over another entrance 

 to the city the &quot; new gate ;&quot; it is not quite a century old. 

 We look from it into the market-place. Narrow, steep-ga 

 bled houses, with their second story frowning threateningly 

 over the sidewalks, surround it. But the market-building is 

 modern. See ! the sparrow lighting on the iron roof burns 

 her feet and flies hastily over to the heavy, old, brown thatch, 

 where the little dormers stick out so clumsily cosy. 



Odd-looking vehicles and oddly-dressed people are pass 

 ing in the street below us : a woman with a jacket, driving 

 two stout horses in one of those heavy farm-carts ; an omni 

 bus, very broad, and carrying passengers on the top as well 

 as inside, with the sign of &quot;The Green Dragon ;&quot; the driver, 

 smartly-dressed, tips his whip with a knowing nod to a pretty 

 Welsh girl who is carrying a tub upon her head. There are 

 lots of such damsels here, neat as possible, with dark eyes and 

 glossy hair, half covered by white caps, and fine, plump forms, 

 in short striped petticoats and hob-nailed shoes. There goes 

 one, straight as a gun-barrel, with a great jar of milk upon 

 her head. And here is a little donkey, with cans of milk 

 slung on each side of him, and behind them, so you cannot 

 see why he does not slip off over his tail, is a great brute, 

 with two legs in knee-breeches and blue stockings, bent up 

 so as to be clear of the ground, striking him with a stout stick 

 across his long, expressive ears. A sooty-faced boy, with a 

 Kilmarnock bonnet on his head, carrying two pewter mugs, 

 coming towards us, jumps suddenly one side, and, ha ! out 

 from under us, at a rattling pace, comes a beautiful sorrel 

 mare, with a handsome, tall, slightly-made young man in 

 undress military uniform ; close behind, and not badly 

 mounted either, follow two others one also in uniform, 

 with a scarlet cap and a bright bugle swinging at his side ; 

 the other a groom in livery, neat as a pin ; odd again, to 



