The public-houses empty by magic, and the
swarthy allegiants are cheered by their British brothers, who return at
once to the carouse.
"And how did you like the procession, mate?" I asked an old man on a
bench in Green Park.
"'Ow did I like it? A bloomin' good chawnce, sez I to myself, for a
sleep, wi' all the coppers aw'y, so I turned into the corner there, along
wi' fifty others. But I couldn't sleep, a-lyin' there an' thinkin' 'ow
I'd worked all the years o' my life an' now 'ad no plyce to rest my 'ead;
an' the music comin' to me, an' the cheers an' cannon, till I got almost
a hanarchist an' wanted to blow out the brains o' the Lord Chamberlain."
Why the Lord Chamberlain I could not precisely see, nor could he, but
that was the way he felt, he said conclusively, and them was no more
discussion.
As night drew on, the city became a blaze of light. Splashes of colour,
green, amber, and ruby, caught the eye at every point, and "E. R.," in
great crystal letters and backed by flaming gas, was everywhere. The
crowds in the streets increased by hundreds of thousands, and though the
police sternly put down mafficking, drunkenness and rough play abounded.
The tired workers seemed to have gone mad with the relaxation and
excitement, and they surged and danced down the streets, men and women,
old and young, with linked arms and in long rows, singing, "I may be
crazy, but I love you," "Dolly Gray," and "The Honeysuckle and the
Bee"--the last rendered something like this:-
"Yew aw the enny, ennyseckle, Oi em ther bee,
Oi'd like ter sip ther enny from those red lips, yew see.
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