The Somerset reporter., 1893-07-13
GUY tAWKES, Day.


How the Boy = Of London Celebrate the
English Fourth Of July"
Beyond doubt Guy Fawkcs' day is the
lay when the young British heart beats
the liveliest tattoo and juvenile patriot
ism bubbles up in the gayest fashion.
Bank holidays are all very well in their
way: but. after all. there is nothing like
the 9TH of November. The day is a not
Df Youngsters, Chinese crackers and
backsheesh. 1t is the Fourth and New
Years day melted down and run into
an uncommonly big and jolly mold.
In London, for instance for days there
has been suppressed and mysterious ex-
citement i'll the houses where boys abide.
There are consultations in corners. over
hauling of the odds and ends in the store
room, downright robbery Of the pots and
pans in the scullery, and the yearning
for sixpenccs that char.icterizes healthy
boyhood at all times of the year is exag-
gerated into mania. Observing these
things, one needs no almanac to prove
that Guy Fawkes' day is near at hand.
Guy Fawkcs. it might be remarked,
planned to blow mp the houses Of paria-
ment, and ever since his failure Young
Briton has been hosting him with his
own petard.
But Guy Fawkes day in London!
All night long a fog has been creeping
up the river from the sea- the town smoke
turns it to dirty yellow. So it spreads
ont over London like Il gypsy's blanket
thick and unclean. The sun comes mp
stains the edge of the fog with dull ocher
smears of light, gives up the unequal
contest and drifts sullenly out of sight
? The fog has everything its own way
Four o'clock.
1t is tangled by Bow bells, rung by st.
Martins, and then Big Ben booms out a
solemn confirmation, and it is 4 o'clock.
-Four o'clock beyond the most impalpable
shadow of doubt!
The youngsters come scurrying out
ike SO many guilty juvenile ghosts.
They get together at the street corners,
form bands and go marching through
the foggy streets and roads. After that
one must needs have a good conscience
to sleep. Tin horns are shrieking, drums
rafting, the pot and kettle that called
each other black hammer each other vim
dictively, while the toy pistols pop like
so many cases of champagne gone mad.
Bing! B-r-r-r-r. Bang!
Then the Youngsters start that classic
ditty, the origin of which is lost i'll the
mist that hides the author of Hey Did
dle-diddle" and the story of that famous
''cockhorse that journeyed to Bambury
cross"
Guyl Guy! Guy
Hit i'm in the eye,
Hang i'm To a gallus tree,
There let i'm die
Hi Hi! Hi
Bands of Is and 60 Youngsters, dressed
i'll most marvellous costumes-rags and
pantomime trousers. tall hats ard parti-
colored coats-go by dragging hurdles
on which the Guys" ride triumphant
The Guy is Il poor thing of straw and
rags we'll lined with gunpowder, lie
has not much backbone. and he wabbles
distressfully. The youngsters hammer
at doors and windows and howl that de
lightful chorus,
And they keep it up until the weary
householders buy them off with copper:
Of a sixpenny piece.
All day long these troops go wander
ing up streets and down. firing off Chi
nese crackers. shooting toy pistols and
maltreating the depraved but helpless
Gny Then in the evening match is
set to his coattail, and straw. rags and
gunpowder go off i'll a burst of smoke
and flame Here and there Guy is re-
served to decorate IL lamppost
The day is a great day for the boydom
of old England-it is jolly and noisy and
patriotic. Selected