From time to time the wall left off, and then we
got down, perforce, and walked to the next piece of it. In these
pieces we made the most of the old gates, especially Walmgate
Bar, which has a barbican. I should be at a loss to say why the
barbican should have commended it so; perhaps it was because we
there realized, for the first time, what a barbican was; I doubt
if the reader knows, now. Otherwise, I should have preferred Monk
Bar or Micklegate Bar, as being more like those I was used to in
the theatre. But we came back gladly to Bootham Bar, holding that
a portcullis was equal any day to a barbican, and feeling as if
we had got home in the more familiar neighborhood.
There were small shops in the Bootham, thread-and-needle stores,
newspaper stores, and provision stores mainly, which I affected,
and there was one united florist's and fruiterer's which I
particularly liked because of the conversability of the
proprietor. He was a stout man, of a vinous complexion, with what
I should call here, where our speech is mostly uncouth, an
educated accent, though with few and wandering aspirates in it.
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