He brings the winter month Newcastle way; For comfort here of poor distressed souls, Would he had with him brought a fleet of coals. During the quarrel between Queen Mary II of England and her sister, afterwards Queen Anne, this verse was written, also this parody on Queen Mary's orders in council: The Bellman of Piccadilly's Verses to the Princess Anne: "Welcome, great princess, to this lowly place, Where injured royalty must hide its face; Your praise, each day, by every man is sung, And in the night by me shall here be rung." The queen's orders are as follows: "Ye are to take a messenger and to find out the dwelling house of the Bellman of Piccadilly, and when you meet with him, search his fur cap, his night cap, and above all his bell, and whatever verses you find upon him you are to bring to me. Ye are to charge him on pain of forfeiture of his employment that he do not sing such verses about the streets. Ye are to charge him to take care of thieves and robbers, but to waive that part of his duty to the princess, for since her guards are taken off, she is neither to be regarded by day, or guarded by night." Mr. Isaac Ragg, the Bellman of Holborn, 1683, has burst into song and bequeathed us his portrait: Time, Master, calls your bellman to his task, To see your doors and windows are all fast, And that no villany or foul crime be done To your or yours in absence of the sun. If any base lurker I do meet, In private alley or in open street, You shall have warning by my timely call, The poet Herrick gives his blessing in the same style: From noise of scare fires rest ye free, From murders benedicitie; From all mischances that may fright LITTLE ANNIE'S RAMBLE Ding-dong! Ding-dong! Ding-dong! The town crier has rung his bell and little Annie stands on her father's doorsteps, trying to hear what the man with the loud voice is talking about. Little Annie shall take a ramble with me. . . . Lo! the town crier again, with some new secret for the public ear. Will he tell ... us of an auction, or of a lost pocketbook, or a show of beautiful wax figures, or of some monstrous beast more horrible than any in the caravan? I guess the latter. See how he uplifts the bell in his right hand and shakes it slowly at first, then with a hurried motion, till the clapper seems to strike both sides at once, and the sounds are scattered forth in quick succession far and near. Ding-dong! Ding-dong! Ding-dong! Now he raises his clear, loud voice, above all the din of the town; it drowns the buzzing talk of many tongues, and draws each man's mind from his own business; it rolls up and down the echoing street and ascends to the hushed chamber of the sick, and penetrates downward to the cellar kitchen, where the hot cook turns from the fire to listen. Who, of all that address the public ear, whether in church or courthouse, or hall of state, has such an attentive audience as the town crier? What saith the people's orator? "Strayed from her home, a little girl, of five years old, in a blue silk frock and white pantaletts, with brown curling hair and hazel eyes. Whoever will bring her back to her afflicted mother Stop, stop, town crier! The lost is found. Oh, my pretty Annie, we forgot to tell your mother of our ramble, and she is in despair, and has sent the town crier to bellow up and down the streets, affrighting old and young, for the loss of a little girl who has not once let go my hand. Well, let us hasten homeward. HAWTHORNE, Twice-Told Tales. Nantucket was one of the last places to abrogate the antique office of Town Crier. According to Henry S. Myer, in "Picturesque and Historic Nantucket," Billy Clark made his announcements in a voice as cracked as his bell, somewhat in the following style of eloquence: "Gr-r-h-and Co-h-once-hert to-ni-h-night. "Don't forget my birthday, November Seventeenth- anything but neckties. Big murder in Chicago. Awful news in the papers to-day. Another severe murder in New York. Vessel loaded with watermelons at straight wharf The surf at Wawwinet etc. |