LITERATURE.

Globe, Volume XXIV, Issue 2626, 6 September 1882, Page 4

LITERATURE.

A NBY LORD MAYOR’S BEGINNINGS.

Tolt> by Himself.

It was In the year when Aid. Sir Thomas Hardwood became Lord Mayor of I oadon. Hia lord-hip’s ward was, as every one knows, that of Portsoken, and he was hesd of the eminent wine merchant's firm of Hardwood and Hardwood. He was also M.P. forShoraditcih, the owner of a fine estate, and the father of a family. These are the things which the public knew abont him, but until the morning of the 9th of November, a cruple of hours before he set out In state for Westminster, not even his wife or children were aware how humble had been his_ origin. Fifty years are a long time In the Ufa of a man and of a city Not a living man in the city was there who remembered having known young Tom Hardwood when ha was nothing more than a potboy at the Dog and Rabbit.

Sir Thomas would never have denied his lowly antecedents had they been imputed to him either as a glory or a reproach ; but he avoided allnding to them, because there were circumstances connected with his departure from the Dog and Babbit, whore he was potboy, whloh could not have been told without bringing up recollections whloh were painful to him. Moreover, these circumstances were much to his credit, and tbis was an additional reason, in Thomas Hardwood’s opinion, why be should keep silent abont them, for he was not tho man to blow his own trumpet. Thomcs Hardwood, however, had long ago made up his mind that he must tell his wife and family how he had once been a potboy, and by what accidents be had risen to become a rich merchant, a city magistrate, and so forth. He had even settled within himself that he would make these disclosures no later than the day when he was Installed as Lord Mayor. In case he should not reach the civic chair he had, shortly after being elected alderman, drawn up a statement which was to be read at the same time as his will. But on the morning o! that 9th of November, when his mayoralty commenced, be bnrned the paper, and came down to his breakfast determined to tell hia story by word of month. Sir Thomas entered the breakfast room already attired in his black Court coat, raffles, and breeches ; but, to the surprise of hia wife and children —two grown up sons and three married daughters, who were on a visit to him with their husbands—he carried with great precaution a bottle all covered with cobwebs.

‘ This, my dear,’ he said, with a smile, as he deposited tho treasure on a p'ate, ‘is a bottle that was given to me quite ferty years ago, and I promised to drink the give ’s health out of it if ever 1 became Lord Mayor of London.’

‘la that the bottle you were so particular about, coming from home P’ asked tho Lady Mayoress. * Yes, my dear; it has travelled about a good deal, going from houss to boose with us as we got richer, and 1 should not have liked It tc get broken.’ ‘ Who gave It you, papa ?’ asked the Lord Mayor’s youngest daughter. ‘ I am going to tell yon that while we breakfast, Lucy. Perhaps it will surprise you to hear that your papa onoe wore a white apron, and was a pot- ‘ ‘H’m, had wo not belter wait until the servants are out of the room ?’ interrupted Lady Hardwood* Tho good wife may he pardoned If, on the day when her Thomas was to be glorified in sight of all his countryman, she was desirous that any revelations he m'ght have to make about his early life should be heard en famille. She felt very curious, nevertheless, to learn what was coming next. ‘ Yery well, my dear,’ said Sir Thomas, simply, as he cracked his egg, and when the two footmen had left the room he plunged at once Into his narrative, without any of the preliminary fuss usual with people who have something very Important to communicate ; ‘ I was saying, then, my dears, that I once wore a white apron, and was a potboy. My ancle, Giles Hardwood, kept the Dog and Rabbit, in Pewter lane, and that’s where I began to earn my bread when 1 was twelve years old, rinsing out pots In the daytime, and sleeping in an old rug behind the counter at night, along with Nailer, the watch-dog.’ ‘Oh, papa!’ This from the three daughters In oho me.

* I confess I should havelikcd a bod better than the rug ; but I got one in time, whan I was promoted to be potman. I was eighteen then, and was trusted to draw the beer and look after the till. I [must tell you that I had lost my father and mother b fore coming into nnole Giles’s service ; so it was partly out of charity that I was given work. Uncle Giles was not a bad hearted man, but a little rough, as he had need to be with euch customers as haunted his house. They were most prizefighters, waterman, dockyard loifers, betting men, and, I suspect, not a few thieves. When there was a row in the bar, which often happened on Saturday nights, uncle Giles would c ;tch hold ' f a couple of tho noisiest parties, one with each baud, by the scuff of tho neok, and fling them out into the lane as if they were cats ; and I have seen aunt Bridget—a good soul, though rather warm in temper—clear out twenty men from the bar with nothing but her bare arms to hit oat with. I knew the weight of tho»o arms, for whenever I made any mistake with my work, sha used to give mo a hearty cuS on the ears, which saved her the trouble of remonstrating.’ ‘Oh, Thomas dear, what a dreadful life,’ exclaimed poor Lady Hardwood, losing ail appetite for her meal, * Bat, papa, why didn’t you run away from such a horrible place V chimed In one of the daughters.

1 * I don’t know where I should have run to,’ answered the lord Mayor, quietly, as he s’irred his tea ; after all, I was well fed, and I saved my earniogs, for I was too hardwomed to find any time to go out and make friends, who would have tempted mo to spend money. It 1s true enough, that I did not consider my life a very happy one. I should have liked to see less bad company and to occnpy a more respectable station. I taod to envy the drapers’ and grocers boys who walked cut on Sundays decently dressed, and who, of course, looked down on me. I was also ashamed of my ignorance, as I had good reason to be, for, at fifteen, I could scarcely read or write. Luckily aunt Bridget saw that I wanted to learn, and in odd half-hours during the afternoon she allowed me to scrawl on a slate and read aloud out of a newspaper, till by decrees I came to write a fair hand and to fpoll properly. Bat I had to take care that nnole Giles was not In the way when I took these lessons, for he would send my slate and newspaper flying, and paok me off to my pot cleaning with some strong caution not to lot

him catch me fooling away my time again. Uncle Giles was no scholar himself, and thought it presumption In me to try and learn things of which he was ignoraut. Aunt Bridget kept all his accounts for him. However, later on, when my annt died, unc.e Giles wao glad to find that I could iecd and count, for he would have lost heavily in h!s business if I had not assisted him.’ • How old were you when your aunt died, dear?’ asked I.aiy Hardwood, almost whimpering at the tale of her Thomas’s child hoed.

* 1 was nineteen, and had been potman for a year, ’ answered the Lord Mayor; ‘my aunt died of dropsy, and just before she went she called ma to her room, and made me promise to look after her husband. ‘ She had kept him In order, poor thing ; butehc was afraid that after hrr death he would ti.ke to drink ng, and this is unhappily what occurred, nor had I any influence over him to prevent it. Wei), you will fin 1 it hard to believe, but when they carried my poor annt to her burial, the sight of the church was quite strange to nnole Giles and me. acd we both fell to crying. We had not been inside a church for years.’

‘ What ohm ch was it you went to, dear ?’ asked Lady Hardwood, wiping some moisture from her eyes. ‘lt was demolished years ago, and tho clergyman, I heard, bad long beeu dead ; but I well remember the sermons he preached,’ and the Lord Mayor’s voice sank a little as he reached this part of the story ; ‘he said tint however poor and miserable a station a man may fill, he oau always influence the world for £ ood. None of our acts ore insignificant ; the good and the bad have consequences which we cannot foresee, and which may be prolonged through ages. Well, a> I was not accustomed to hear sermons, these words sank deeply into my mind, as if they had been specially addressed to me. I went home thinking it was a fiie thing that a poor lad*like me should b» able to ioflaeces others for good, and I fell to wondering how it was In my power to do so. There was no great merit in keeping my pots cl. an, for I w s paid to do it, nor In being civil to ouat. meia, for they would have thrashed me if 1 hal been saccy. I had no temptation to rob my nude’s till, for, having food, clothes, and wag s, I wanted little else. As to drink. I was sober by professioc, as potmen and publicans usually are, 1 went baok to chufoh, though, Sunday after S'undr. y, always si ting near the door in the humblest place, and carrying home from the clergymans sermons reflections for all the wee*. I had listened to many sermons before I began to rea’iae an ideal of moral duty, and even then I felt uncertain as to whether It was my duty to create opportunities of wall doing, or whether £ must simply avail myself of the opportunities that might come in my way,’ ‘ Do yon mean ro say that you asked yourself such abstruse questions as that, papa, dear ?’ exclaimed one of the daughters. ‘ Not precisely In those terms, my dear,’ smiled the Lrr-d Mayor, ‘but I was like a boy trying to grope his way in the dark with a flickering candle, ‘I had lived for years at tho Dog and Babbit without perceiving that many of the things done there were wrong, and when I began to guess that they were wrong I did not see my way to right them. For Instance, uncle Giles adulterated bis liquors largely, putting drugs into beer to make customers drank, and se'ling them the vilest potato spirit”, which drove them nearly mad. Then, again, we bad some confirmed drunkards amongst our habitual customers—men who came in on Saturday nights with their week’s wages and drank them away to the last penny. Their poor wives used sometimes to burst In sobbing and imploring them to let them have a few shillings for the children, but nnole Giles never took the part of the wives ; be need to say it was none of hia business. Well, I thought one day that I would speak to my unc.e about this; bat I had hardly opened my lips when he stopped me with a number of oaths, say ing he would kick me out of the bouse if I canted to him any more. What ought I to have done thtnT If I had left my situation, unole Giles would have taken another potman less anxious, perhaps, to serve him well than I, and the Dog and Babbit would have been carried on as before. Besides, I had promisd my aunt that I would look aft r her husband. and somehow It seemed to me that, in withdrawing myself from a place which was growing very disagreeable to mo, I should be running away from my difficulties instead of facing them. It was this thought of running away which displeased me, so I stayed ; but I did no good. Uncle Giles went from bad to worse; he was almost always drank, and encouraged mere and more bad characters to come to bis house. At last, during a general elec ion, when the honse bad been fall for three days of men who were being treated by one of the candidates, there was a brawl, aid uncle Giles received a blow on the head, which, owing to his late excesses, proved fatal. He lingered abont a week, however, and during that time made a will by which he left me everything he possessed. It turned out that he had made a good deal of money. The Dog and Babbit was hia own, with all the plant and fixtures, and he had money in the funds. Altogether he was worth eight thousand pounds.’ ‘ Ah, well, he did make yon some atonement, then/ said Luoy ; ‘it showed he had just a little good in him.’ * And what did yen do then, papa?’ inquired another daughter ; ‘did you become landlord of the Dog and Babbit ?’ There was a shade of embarrassment in the Lord Mayor’s manner as he continued, without raising his eyes: ‘On returning from my uncle’s funeral I closed the house. Even by snob poor lights of right and wrong as I possessed. It seemed to me that it would not be exactly manly if, after desiring that opportnclties of well doing might be thrown in my way, I shirked the first one that presented Itself. There was no longer any donbt in my mind that my uncle's fortune had been amassed by dishonest trading, and that mnch of it had come from dishonest men, who had consigned their wives and children to misery. I do not think, my dears, that my life wonld have been happy as It has been—l do not think I should be fitting here at this moment It I had consented to remain landlord of the Dog and Hobbit.’

‘No, do, Thomas, dear, yon couldn't,’ exclaimed Lady Hardwood, and ahe began to cry. Her daughters did the same. The Lord Mayor took one of hia wife’s hands between his and stroked it, whilst he finished his narrative in a more cheerful tone. *My great difficulty was to ascertain how I should dispose of my property, for I had no one to advise me. At lait 1 thought I would go to the clergyman whose sermons had taught me, and I told him as much of my story as 1 (could without making him thidk too badly of uncle Giles. I said I wanted to have the property sold and to give all my uncle’s money to the women whose husbands had drunk away their livelihood in the house. Their children were to be well cared for and apprenticed. Tbat seemed to me the best way of undoing some of the wrong that had been done,’ ‘ Ob, papa, how good of you; and what did you do then V

‘ I had saved my earnings, which I conld honestly keep, because they were the price of several years’ work ; so I set out to find a situation, and I became porter in a wins merchant’s office. I had gone away without letting the clergyman know of my whereabouts, for I did not want to put him to any more trouble about me, but before long he disoovered where I was, and told my employers all about me. From that day all I had given began to be restored to me a thousand fold. My employers had me educated, and made me a clerk in the house ; soon afterwards, when one of them died, the survivor took me into partnership, though 1 was only twenty-seven then. Three years later my partner retired and I became sole owner of the business. 1 made a point of sel ing only good wines, my dears, and I think yon know all the rest.’ ‘ But, papa, yon have not told na about the bottle of port.’

*To be aura; I was going to forget the bottle,* laughed the Lord Mayor. ‘lt was given me on November the 9 h, forty years ago, when I was a clerk in the office which was after wards to be my own. The partners gave me a holiday ta see the show, and one of them told me In joke to take a bottle from the bin and keep it till I became Lord Mayor in my tarn. Then I was to drink a glass from it to his health or his memory, aa the case might be. So, Mary, if you’ll get me a corkscrew, we’ll have a glass all round. ’ The cork was drawn, and the glasses were filled The toast to the memory of tha Lord Mayor’s first patron was drank in silence, and then Mary said It was time to be gone, for she beard Bow bells ringing