her. "You can't read a warrant!" "You let Dondon cheat
you!" "You tried to cheat Nincan!" "You want to build a watch-house!"
"You have an old ewe at home now, that you did not come honestly by!"
"You denied your own hand!"--with other ribaldry still more gross and
indecent. But the most singular part of the scene was a number of little
boys, dressed in black and white, who all wore badges of the parties to
which they belonged, and were provided with a syringe, and two canteens,
one filled with rose-water, and the other with a black liquid, of a very
offensive smell, the first of which they squirted at their favourite
candidates and voters, and the last on those of the opposite party. They
were drawn up in a line, and seemed to be under regular discipline; for,
whenever the captain of the band gave the word, "Vilti Mindoc!" they
discharged the dirty liquid from their syringes; and when he said "Vilti
Goulgoul!" they filled the air with perfume, that was so overpowering as
sometimes to produce sickness. The little fellows would, between whiles,
as if to keep their hands in, use the black squirts against one another;
but they often gave them a dash of the rose-water at the same time.

I wondered to see men submit to such indignity; but was told that the
custom had the sanction of time; that these boys were brought up in the
church, and were regularly trained to this business. "Besides," added my
informer, "the custom is not without its use; for it points out the
candidates at once to a stranger, and especially him who is successful,
those being always the most blackened who are the most popular." But it
was amusing to see the ludicrous figure that the candidates and some of
the voters made. If you came near them on one side, they were like roses
dripping with the morning dew; but on the other, they were as black as
chimney sweeps, and more offensive than street scavengers. As these
Syringe Boys, or Goulmins, are thus protected by custom, the persons
assailed affected to despise them; but I could ever and anon see some of
the most active partisans clapping them on the back, and saying, "Well
done, my little fellows! give it to them again! You shall have a
ginger-cake--and you shall have a new cap," &c. Surely, thought I, our
custom of praising and abusing our public men in the newspapers, is far
more rational than this. After the novelty of the scene was over, I
became wearied and disgusted with their coarseness, violence, an