OYEZ!
In a faded and patched blue coat, turned up with red, the
bellman of Kinver appeared in the one long street of that small
place—if we call it a town we flatter it, if we speak of it as a
village we insult it—and began to ring outside the New Inn.
A crowd rapidly assembled and before the crier had unfolded
the paper from which he proposed reading, an ape of a boy threw
himself before him, swinging a turnip by the stalk, assumed an
air of pomposity and ingenious caricature of the bellman, and
shouted:
"O yes! O yes! O yes! Ladies and gents all, I gives notice
that you, none of you, ain't to believe a word Gaffer Edmed says. O no! O no! O no!"
"Get along, you dratted jackanapes!" exclaimed the crier
testily, and, striking the youth in the small of his back with
the bell handle, sent him sprawling. Then, striding forward, he
took position with a foot on each side of the prostrate urchin, rang again, and called:
"O yes! O yes! O yes! This is to give notice that this 'ere
evening, at six o'clock, at Stewponey, there will be a grand
champion match at bowls on the green. The prize to be Bladys Rea, commonly called Stewponey Bla. Admittance one shilling. 'Arf-a-crown inner ring, and ticket admits to the 'oly function, by kind permission of the proprietor, in the Chapel of Stourton Castle. At six o'clock per-cise. No 'arf-price. Children and dogs not admitted."
From the door of the New Inn issued Thomas Hoole, the
landlord, in his shirt sleeves.
Thomas Hoole was a bit of a wag and a crumb of a poet. On the
board outside his tavern he had inscribed the following verses of
his own composition:—
"Customers came, and I did trust 'em, So I lost money, and also custom. To lose them both did vex me sore, So I resolved to trust no more. Chalk may be used to any amount, But chalk won't pay the malt account. I'm determined to keep a first-rate tap For ready money, but no strap. Good-will to all is here intended Thus, hoping none will be offended, I remain, yours respectfully One who's no fool, i.e. Thomas Hoole."
"What's the meaning of this, Crier Edmed?" asked the
landlord.
"Well," answered the bellman, rubbing his nose with the handle
of the bell and holding the same by the clapper, "I can't say
exactly. My instructions don't go so far. But I fancy the
gentlefolk want a spree, and Cornelius Rea at the inn is going to
marry again, and wants be rid of his daughter first. It's an
ockard affair altogether, and not altogether what it ort to be; and so it has been settled as a mutual accommodation that there shall be a bowling match on the green—and she's to go to the winner. That 's about it. O yes! O yes! O yes!"
Then the crier went forward clanging his bell, and as he
progressed more faces appeared at windows and figures at doors, and children swarmed thicker in the street.
Phalanxes of boys formed before and behind, yelling,
"O yes! O yes! O yes! Stewponey Bla is for sale to the highest
bidder. Who'll stand another 'apenny and have her? Going, going
for tuppence three farthings."
Every now and again the crier made a rush at the boys in
front, or backed on those behind, and dispersed them momentarily
with the handle of his bell, or with a kick of his foot, and
shouted,
"You vagabonds, you! I gave notice of no such thing. How can
folk attend to I and learn the truth when you're a hollerin' and
a scritchin' them lies! I said she was to be bowled for, and not
put up to auction."
"Wot's the difference?" asked an impudent boy.
"One's respectable, 'tother ain't," retorted the crier, who
then vigorously swung the bell, and shouted, "O yes! O yes! O
yes!" whereat the boys mockingly shouted, "O no! O no! O no!"
A woman who had been kneading bread, with her sleeves turned
up and her arms white with flour, crossed the street, came up to
the landlord of the New Inn, and accosted him:
"Wot's the meaning of this, I'd like to know?"
"The meaning is before your nose," answered Hoole.
"Where?" inquired the woman, applying her hand at once to the
organ, and leaving on it a patch of white.
"I mean," explained the landlord, "that anyone as knows
Cornelius Rea knows just about what this signifies."
"I know Cornelius for the matter of that," said the woman from
the kneading trough. "Drat my nose, there's sum'ut on it."