"
With praiseworthy public spirit, however, Mr. Sullivan forewent his
revenge, and, having cleansed his hair, ran with all speed to get out
the fire-engine.
Returning to the Quay, at about 5 p.m., I found a large crowd
assembled before the engine-room door, from which the vapour was
pouring in dense clouds. The Brigade came rattling up with their
manual in less than ten minutes. As luck would have it, this was just
the hour when the mummers, guise dancers and darkey-parties were
dressing up for their Christmas rounds; and the appearance
presented by the crowd in the deepening dusk would, in less serious
circumstances, have been extremely diverting. Two of the firemen wore
large moustaches of burnt cork beneath their helmets, and another (who
was cast to play the Turkish Knight) had found no time to remove the
bright blue dye he had been applying to his face. The pumpmaker had
come as Father Christmas, and the blacksmith (who was forcing the
door) looked oddly in an immense white hat, a flapping collar and a
suit of pink chintz with white bone buttons.
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