New Ulm review. (New Ulm, Brown County, Minn.) 1892-1961, 1897-02-17
FAIRIES OF THE FOG,

FAIRIES OF THE FOG
SCOTCH PIP Frs AND DANCERS IN Ts4t
STREETS OF LONDON.
They Appear Only on Dreary Days, Wher
They Have Monopoly Of Sidewalk En-
Pertaining, and Usually Manage to Bsa
All the Pennies Within Reach.
Out Of the thick fog that hangs ove1
the square comes the Scottish piper, and
with him the Scottish dancer, both clad
In full Scottish regalia. Not since our
last foggy day had seen them. So fan
as know they never appear in clear
weather. Their friend and ally, the fog,
drives away the thunderous piano organs
which curse London, leaving to them a
clear field. They come out of it playing
merrily; they disappear into it playing
merrily, but not until they have tarried
long enough to charm away our pennies
Unbearable as the bagpipe music is
to any save the ears of the faithful, it
has an understandable charm in London
fog or in a Scotch mist. It rOuses you
out of the dull sticky phlegm that the
SCOT laden fog imposes on you. It brings
you to the window of your apartment to
wait impatiently until the gay, swag-
gering figures appear from behind the
yellow curtains like living pictures at a
music hail.
The dancer carries two rusty swords,
the only thing about him that is not
bright and fresh. He lays them down
on the pavement. Meanwhile the piper
marches on straight ahead, staggering
and blowing, as if he We're piper to the
whole Scottish people. So forcefully
does he march that we fear he is going
to pass US by for the wealthy household
ers in the next street.
Then suddenly he performs half cir
Gle, still playing and now marching with
fnicky steps, which show off his great
white spats strikingly in the dim light.
At that instant the dancer looks up at
the windows, bows and smiles and
Graves our wealth. IF we are conscious
of a preconcerted theatrical movement
on the part of our canny, killed friends,
it only re-enforces our admiration, and
jingle, Jingle, jingle, go our pennies
Americans Frenchmen' s, Englishmen's s,
landladies', servants pennies! A har-
vest of pennies, reaped by canny fingers
and put in an extensive granary some
where in the most picturesque of all ma
tional garbs. Still the fingers go up to
the feathered cap for few more pen
MES; still the piper plays for a few more
pennies-which are forthcoming. It is
kept up until the people in the windows
set their faces hard against any further
payment until goods are delivered.
Then the player takes up his position
on the sidewalk opposite the side Of the
street which has contributed most lib
orally, and the dancer gives us-well,
what do you suppose he gives? Not a
highland fling, of course. No Scot in a
kilt would be guilty Of that any more
than Scot in kilt would mention
Bobby Burns at the banquet of Scot
fish society.
But nowhere else is the highland fling
and the bagpipe quite so attractive as on
London pavement when the fog is
thick and one must YAK by lamplight
at midday. The gay. clad piper who
summons the greatest Of Scottish bards
and his guests to dinner, and after they
are seated marches solemnly around the
table splitting the ears of these same
guests, has not one-half the poetry OF
the piper Of the fog: I have heard tell
how the finest of Scottish dancers dance
around fires in the open to amuse the
queen when she is at Balmoral She is
welcome to them. Though the piper be
royal gamekeeper and the dancer a
royal gillie, I rest content with my
Scots who march out of the fog and back
into it after they have emptied my pock-
cts of pennies.
Another collection is. taken before we
may enjoy the sword dance, which is
quite the perfection of the dancing art
as the Scotch know it. If that does not
get the last Of your pennies, the farewell
collection will. All pennies, all collec-
tions, disappear somewhere in that
dancers kilt, though that dancers kilt
grows no larger: How he carries them
an English penny is as large as sill
yer dollar-is a question, for after a
few collections the brawniest Of hairy
legged highlanders could not dance un-
der the weight Of his wealth. But l
have seen the dancer now and then take
handful Of something out Of his kilt
and put it in a pouch under the piper's
/ pipe. Often not a Denny is left in the
block. After the messenger boy, who,
being in hurry, has reclined on stoop
for little rest and recreation, has part
ed with his last ha'pence the dancer
picks up his rusty swords, the piper
strikes up tune and they march away
into the fog. In one foggy day they
must earn enough to keep them in Scotch
"whusky'' until another foggy day
comes. If it is possible for such wicked