by Joseph and his Brethren (with pit and coat), the bombardment of
Copenhagen, the Battle of the Nile, Daniel in the Den of Lions, and
Mount Etna in eruption. "Aunty Maggy's Whirligig" could be enjoyed
on payment of an old pair of boots, a collection of rags, or the
like. Besides these and other shows, there were the wandering
minstrels, most of whom were "Waterloo veterans" wanting arms or a
leg. I remember one whose arms had been "smashed by a thunderbolt at
Jamaica." Queer, bent old dames, who superintended "lucky bags" or
told fortunes, supplied the uncanny element, but hesitated to call
themselves witches, for there can still be seen near Thrums the pool
where these unfortunates used to be drowned, and in the session book
of the Glen Quharity kirk can be read an old minute announcing that
on a certain Sabbath there was no preaching because "the minister
was away at the burning of a witch." To the storm-stead shows came
the gypsies in great numbers. Claypots (which is a corruption of
Claypits) was their headquarters near Thrums, and it is still sacred
to their memory. It was a clachan of miserable little huts built
entirely of clay from the dreary and sticky pit in which they had
been flung together. A shapeless hole on one side was the doorway,
and a little hole, stuffed with straw in winter, the window. Some
of the remnants of these hovels still stand. Their occupants, though
they went by the name of gypsies among themselves, were known to the
weavers as the Claypots beggars; and their King was Jimmy Pawse. His
regal dignity gave Jimmy the right to seek alms first when he chose
to do so; thus he got the cream of a place before his subjects set
to work. He was rather foppish in his dress; generally affecting a
suit of gray cloth with showy metal buttons on it, and a broad
blue bonnet. His wife was a little body like himself; and when they
went a-begging, Jimmy with a meal-bag for alms on his back, she
always took her husband's arm. Jimmy was the legal adviser of his