Upon its dull destroyer’s head!
A minstrel’s malison is said.’[154]
THE TOWN-GUARD.
[THE TOWN-GUARD.]
One of the characteristic features of Edinburgh in old times was its Town-guard, a body of military in the service of the magistrates for the purposes of a police, but dressed and armed in all respects as soldiers. Composed for the most part of old Highlanders, of uncouth aspect and speech, dressed in a dingy red uniform with cocked hats, and often exchanging the musket for an antique native weapon called the Lochaber axe, these men were (at least in latter times) an unfailing subject of mirth to the citizens, particularly the younger ones. In my recollection they had a sort of Patmos in the ground-floor of the Old Tolbooth, where a few of them might constantly be seen on duty, endeavouring to look as formidable as possible to the little boys who might be passing by. On such occasions as executions, or races at Leith, or the meeting of the General Assembly, they rose into a certain degree of consequence; but in general they could hardly be considered as of any practical utility. Their numbers were at that time much reduced—only twenty-five privates, two sergeants, two corporals, and a couple of drummers. Every night did their drum beat through the Old Town at eight o’clock, as a kind of curfew. No other drum, it seems, was allowed to sound on the High Street between the Luckenbooths and Netherbow. They also had an old practice of giving a charivari on the drum on the night of a marriage before the lodgings of the bridegroom; of course not without the expectation of something wherewithal to drink the health of the young couple. A strange remnant of old times altogether were the Town Rats, as the poor old fellows were disrespectfully called by the boys, in allusion to the hue of their uniform.