CHRISTOPHER IN HIS SPORTING JACKET 



would not leave their work for a dog-fight, fling down 

 scythe and rake, and over the hedges into the high- 

 road, a stalwart reinforcement. Weavers leap from 

 their treddles doff their blue aprons, and out into 

 the air. The red-cowled tailor pops his head through 

 a skylight, and next moment is in the street. The 

 butcher strips his long light-blue linen coat, to engage 

 a Paddy; and the smith, ready for action for the 

 huge arms of Burniwind are always bare with a 

 hand-ower-hip delivery, makes the head of the king 

 of the gipsies ring like an anvil. There has been no 

 marshalling of forces yet lo! as if formed in two 

 regular lines by the Adjutant himself after the first 

 tuilzie, stand the carters, the gipsies, and the Irish- 

 men, opposed to Bob Howie, the butcher, the smith, 

 the tailor, the weaver, the haymakers, and the boys 

 from the manse the latter drawn up cautiously, but 

 not cowardly, in the rear. What a twinkling of fists 

 and shillelas! what bashed and bloody noses! cut 

 blubber lips cheekbones out of all proportion to the 

 rest of the face, and, through sudden black and blue 

 tumefactions, men's changed into pigs 1 eyes! And now 

 there is also rugging of caps and mutches and hair, 

 "femineo ididatu" for the Egyptian Amazons bear 

 down like furies on the glee'd widow that keeps the 

 change-house, half-witted Shoosy that sells yellow 

 sand, and Davie Donald's dun daughter, commonly 

 [81 ] 



