THE MAYOR OF HOLE-CUM-CORNER. A LEGEND. "Pure innocence hath never studied how To cloak offences."-SHAKSPEARE. BY DOUGLAS JERROLD, ESQ. "AND pray, sir, in what reign did this happen?" asked a modern master of the dramatic robes, when required to furnish dresses for the valorous Saint George and his companions. Reign!" echoed the master of the revels, with a laughing, wondering look." Reign!" "Yes, sir: as it has ever been with me a point of reputation to attend to the minutest details of historical costume, I am desirous of learning the reign in which Saint George fought the dragon, in order that you perceive, sir-fidelity in these matters-" "Let's look at the rags," interrupted the master of the forthcoming pageant; "and, ha! ha! never mind the reign!" We narrate this little anecdote, in the hope that it may serve at once as preface and apology to the legend we are about to recount-a legend to which we are totally unable to ascribe a date, and for which questionable advantage we earnestly trust the reader cares no more than the master of the revels above cited, in the more important case of our national saint. The trials of Tobias, albeit unsung, unsaid, may be no less true than the victories of Saint George, who still slays his dragon. on sovereigns and crown-pieces, and thereby affords to the least imaginative of her majesty's subjects a consolatory assurance, that he who possesses many records of his glory is, in proportion to the number possessed, charmed from the assaults of many ills; whilst the trials of Tobias, though probably of high moral value, may not so unequivocally manifest their sterling worth. Notwithstanding this conviction, we are induced to bring our hero on the page, confessing that the time of his life and acts is equally uncertain as the date of the knight of fairy-land, and hoping to meet with readers to whom it is equally indifferent. Since Babylon is but a name-since jackals haunt where learned Thebans studied and disputed, it will hardly amaze the philosophic reader, when he shall learn that Hole-cum-Corner was once a flourishing township, though there is not to be found any map of England, where even its site is indicated; nor will the mind, disciplined by the contemplation of worldly mutability and its consequent injustice, refuse belief to the historical fact-too long unknown-that Banbury, at present, and for many years celebrated for its toothsome cakes, usurps the glory due to Hole-cum-Corner - the invention of those savoury delicacies making the rightful renown of the mayor of that most ancient human dwelling-place; of the very mayor, succeeded by our hero, Tobias Aconite, maltster and ale-brewer. We have gleaned this golden news from original records, quite at the service of the reader; from documents that prove how time, in its revolutions, confounds the little with the great-robbing one to heap upon another-with cakes no less capricious than with mayors. When Hole-cum-Corner flourished, it was the glorious ambition of those enviable men elected to the chief place of the magistracy, to mark their mayoralty, either by some inestimable invention, or by the correction of a crying abuse. Thus, every mayor put the impress of his genius on his twelvemonth's rule; mayoraltics being computed by the townsfolk of Hole-cum-Corner, not by dates, but by things. As thus: The Mayoralty of the Nutmeg-grater! AND (which brings us to the Mayoralty of Tobias Aconite) We will not even insinuate such an injustice upon the reader, as to suppose him incapable of rightly applying the above named commo. dities or things. No; he at once perceives that the inhabitants of Hole-cum-Corner owed the origin of that most domestic and most genial instrument, the nutmeg-grater, to the intelligence of a possetloving mayor-that the whipping-post was erected by a sterner, but no less public-spirited functionary-that the execrable crime of lessening the pottle-pot, was terribly avenged under another magistrate-and that the asses of Hole-cum-Corner, until the mayoralty of Roger Littlebeau, in a lamentable state of darkness on the matter, were apprized of the sex of their load by the difference of the saddle, and thereby taught to gently amble, when otherwise they might have kicked. Sucking-pigs had been long on the advance, the price sent up by the unprincipled machinations of certain boar-monopolists; but in the mayoralty of Savourpork, they were, by the unassisted energy of his character, reduced to the good old standard, it being thenceforth made an affair of the gallows to demand for a month-pig one farthing more than a groat. Of the mayoralty of the cakes, we have already spoken; and with a brief expression of admiration of these men, we shall proceed with our immediate history. We cannot, however, refrain from holding up as an example to all mayors present and to come, the worthy deeds of the Mayors of Holecum-Corner. They knew the true substance of glory, nor lost it for a shadow-a sound. Alack! what are the passing triumphs of the mayoralty revel?-of what avail the blasting clarions-the caracoling steeds the collar of SS-the sheriff's chain-the gown of violet and minever? What is all this but stuff for an apprentice's holiday-an empty pageant, passing away like the triumphs of the Cæsars? A magnificence beginning at Westminster and ending at Guildhall? The memory of such things goes out and dies, even with the torches, leaving no fragrance behind. But the mayor who writes his history in the enlarged pottle-pot-who indissolubly links his name with a sucking-pig for fourpence! the yearly magistrate who associates himself with cupboard comforts his renown shall be heard at ten thousand hearths, when the fame of other mayors shall be voiceless-dumb as a dead trumpeter! And now to the history of Tobias. Gaffer Nimmington, of Alderclump, stood charged before the Mayor with having basely, maliciously, and inhumanly carried off the gray gander of Farmer Dock, the said gander being of venerable age and surpassing merits. There was no evidence against the prisoner; but the accused having once stood in the pillory, and on two occasions having suffered the pain and ignominy of public whipping, there was, in the breast of Farmer Dock, not the shadow of a doubt of the guilt of the *said Gaffer. Gaffer Nimmington raised his eyes, lifted his hands, and protested his innocence. He was not ashamed to confess the whippings, such discipline having done him a world of good-he was a reformed man, and would scorn to lay his finger on the ganders of his neighbours. Tobias, the Mayor, looking sternly at the prisoner, said, he feared that appearances were much against him. A whipped man must, to the end of the chapter, be a man suspected. Farmer Dock humbly yet earnestly prayed for a third scourging of the accused. The mayor, passing the tips of his four fingers along each eyebrow, remarked, that public morals cried loudly for an example. Hereupon, Gaffer Nimmington, falling on his knees, roared like any bull. The heart of Tobias was softened; and, with a humanity that ennobled his office, he resolved, ere he passed sentence of the stocks and the beadle's whip, to rigidly question the accused. Heaven forbid that he, the Mayor of Hole-cum-Corner, should hastily inflict wrong upon the innocent! With these exalted thoughts, Tobias cleared his throat, and proceeded to examine the prisoner. He had been twice whipped?-Twice; but hoped he might claim the benefit conferred by such punishment. What was the use of whipping, if no good was to come of it? What were Gaffer's means of livelihood?-Very poor; for he was lame of one hand, and was not quite recovered from the jaundice. Where had Gaffer passed the three last nights?-One in a dry ditch, and two under a haystack! "I never saw a clearer case," crowed forth the Mayor of Hole-cumCorner. "If, my man, appearances are worth any thing, it is plain that you have stolen Dock's gray gander." "Your worship wouldn't whip a man upon appearance?" humbly questioned Gaffer. The impertinence of the query was too much for Tobias; and the Mayor of Hole-cum-Corner, slapping his hand upon a volume of the statutes, cried with an oath, that "with the greatest pleasure in life, he would!" Whereupon, Gaffer Nimmington was handed over to the beadle, who straightway locked him in the stocks, and then proceeded to make every necessary arrangement for the supplementary punishment of whipping. The ceremony was appointed to take place at noon next day; and loud and many were the praises of the townsfolk, touching the wisdom and the stern sense of justice displayed by the Mayor of Hole-cum-Corner. He was, to them, the paragon of magistrates-a very Solomon in the chair. With such a functionary, honest folks might go safely to sleep with the door on the latch: under his protecting wing, even geese were sacred! The day of Gaffer's whipping was a holiday throughout Hole-cumCorner. The shops were closed, and men and women pranked themselves in their best; "The babe leaped up in its mother's arms;" and it was said, that the church bells, of their own accord, rang out a merry peal. All prepared themselves for a holiday, save and except Gaffer Nimmington. We have too much respect for the natural tenderness of our readers, to inflict upon them a description of the execution. We will not dilate upon the sinewy arm of the beadle-the shameless fortitude of the culprit-the elevated serenity of the mayor himself, and the general good-humour, enhanced by very many quips and jokes, of the attending mob. Let it suffice the reader to know that every thing passed off with the greatest satisfaction to all parties concerned, taking no account of Gaffer. Justice had asserted her injured dignity-the proper sacrifice had been offered up to the popular idol-appearance; when, to the annoyance of the mayor, the astonishment of the multitude, and the honour of the scourged Nimmington, farmer Dock's gray gander suddenly appeared, as it was supposed, on its way home to its ancient dwellingplace. Whether love or business had caused its long absence from the farm-yard, was never rightly understood. It was, however, plain that Gaffer Nimmington had been precipitately whipped, and great was the common indignation against Mr. Mayor ! Gaffer was immediately liberated, when, falling upon his knees, with a scowling look at Tobias, he muttered to the fiends, devoting the Mayor of Hole-cum-Corner, the victim to that arch-demon, Appearance! From that moment, as our future history will show, Tobias Aconite was a doomed man and a lost mayor. Soft, sweet, and balmy was the evening, when the Mayor of Holecum-Corner, feeling the meditative fit come on, walked forth into the fields. The air was fragrant with new-mown hay-the lark carolled in the sky-the west glowed with ten thousand glories-the hour, the scene was favourable to the sweetest emotions; and Tobias, seating himself in the midst of a haycock, looked about him with that deep tranquillity of heart, so rarely the fate of mayors to know. Now, his fingers played among the hay-now, they gently tapped his dexter leg -now, he whistled softly-and now there rose within him a thought of pastoral song. His heart was steeped-melted in the balm of evening; not, at a most prosperous brewing, had he felt serener bliss. Forgetting he was a mayor, he felt a love for all the world. In this delicious mood, he turned his head, and beheld within-say a span of his left arm, a rustic maiden seated in the hay. She blushed, but stirred not. Here was a situation for the Mayor of Hole-cum-Corner! At any other time, Tobias would have called to his immediate aid all the terrors of his official nature; but there was enchantment in the place and The hour, and when Tobias should have stormed, he gently coughed. maiden, with eyes downcast upon earth, sighed. "It is plain," thought Tobias, "that the damsel is a stranger, and knows me not;" and as this conviction of her ignorance came upon our hero, his face glowed, and his looks brightened. She knew him not! To her he was not the Mayor of Hole-cum-Corner; nor, such was his benign determination, would he suddenly confound her simplicity with the dread intelligence. For a time he would be merely a mortal-simply a man, and nought beyond. In that moment, Hole-cum-Corner was to all intents and purposes, without a mayor. Tobias looked around, above-listened; and then he cast his eyes upon the maid, and coughed a little louder than before. As he gazed, the maiden, never venturing to raise her looks, suddenly began to weep; then to wring her hands; and then, ere Tobias could draw his breath, with a shrill hysterical laugh, she fell into his open arms! This circumstance, for a man of Aconite's dignity, was sufficiently distressing; but it was rendered less tolerable by another unfortunate occurrence, it happened to be seen! Yes, crossing the distant stile, were two of the most sober denizens of Hole-cum-Corner-two discreet, two pattern men,astounded at the appalling evidence of their own eyes. It was Tobias Aconite-it could be no other than the Mayor of Holecum-Corner! Tobias attempted to rise, but suddenly felt as if all his limbs were lead; he was about to chide the girl for the boldness of her bearing, but his tongue was cold as jelly. What spirit of mischief could have made him sit among the hay? His friends, with indignant strides, crossed the field, and in a twinkling, turned a hedge. Here was a dilemma! They would immediately trumpet the news through the streets of Hole-cum-Corner-the Mayor was a lost dignitary. The vehemence of this feeling gave him speech and motion: with a loud oath, he jumped to his legs, and with more than official wrath, began to inquire, "why such a baggage had had the face to faint in the arms of a mayor?" This said, Tobias paused for a satisfactory reply; resolving, however, to oppose a breast of steel to the feminine weapons of the penitent. The damsel rose, and turning her face upon Tobias, in the exuberance of her animal spirits, skipped halfa-dozen times from the ground-snapped her fingers-whistled-and then, calling to her face a look that paralyzed poor Aconite, immediately slapped him on the shoulder, and without a word, took to her legs. Legs!-wings! She was gone-flown-vanished,-how and whither Tobias knew not. He stood bewildered-looked aghast-for, either he was in a day-dream, or the wench laughed and leered at him with the mouth and eyes of Gaffer Nimmington. After much pondering, Tobias felt that there was more in this than could be readily divined, even by a Mayor of Hole-cum-Corner. Thrusting his hands in his breeches-pockets, his hat pulled over his brow, his head somewhat inclined to his left shoulder, Tobias, in a deep study, wended his way homeward. Possibly, he had arrived at his threshold without further perturbation, had not his road lain by the barn of Farmer Dock: of this, however, he was at the time unconscious, but was speedily roused to the fact by a most vehement hissing. Looking about him, he saw the old gray gander, its neck crooked like |