Bladys of the Stewponey | Page 3

tradition are alike silent.

Towards this rock the bellman made his way.
Why so?
Was it for the purpose of summoning jackdaws to the bowling match?
Was it that he desired to hear the echoes answer him from the crag?
We shall see presently.
Although the local tradition is silent relative to a saintly denizen of the
rock, it is vocal relative to a tenancy of a different kind. Once it was
occupied by a giant and his wife, who with their nails had scooped for
themselves caves in the sandstone. The giantess was comely. So
thought another giant who lived at Enville.
Now in this sandstone district water is scarce, and the giant of Austin
Rock was wont daily to cross a shoulder of hill to a spring some two
hundred and fifty yards south of the Rock to fetch the water required
for his kitchen. The water oozed forth in a dribble, and the amount
required was considerable, for a giant's sup is a drunkard's draught.
Consequently he was some time absent. The Enville giant took
advantage of this absence to visit his wife. One, two, three. He strode
across country, popped his head in, kissed the lady, and retired before
her husband returned with the pitchers.
But one day he tarried a moment too long, and the Austin giant saw
him. Filled with jealous rage, he set down the pitchers, rushed to the
summit of the rock, and hurled a large block at the retreating neighbour.
The stone missed its aim; it fell and planted itself upright, and for many
generations bore the name of the Bolt Stone. In 1848 the farmer in
whose field it stood blew it to pieces with gunpowder.
Mr Edmed, the crier, having reached the foot of Holy Austin Rock,
rang a peal and looked up. Instantly the rock was alive. As from a
Stilton cheese that is over-ripe the maggots tumble out, so from
numerous holes in the cliff emerged women and children. But on the
ledge nearest the summit they clustered the thickest.

When the crier saw that he had collected an audience, and that it was
attentive, he rang a second peal, and called,--
"O yes! O yes! This is to give notice that this 'ere evening at six o'clock
at the Stewponey, there is to be a grand champion match at bowls on
the bowling-green. An the prize is to be Bladys Rea, commonly known
as Stewponey Bla. Admittance one shilling. 'Arf-a-crown reserved seats,
and them tickets admit the bearer to the 'oly function, by kind
permission of the proprietor, in the Chapel of Stourton Castle. No
'arf-price. Children and dogs not admitted."
There were three stages of habitations on the rock. From out of the
topmost, behind the children, emerged a singular figure--that of an old
man in a long snuff-coloured coat, with drab breeches and blue worsted
stockings. A white cravat encircled his neck. In his hand he carried a
stick. This old man now began to descend the rock with agility such as
might not have been anticipated in one of his age.
"Here comes Holy Austin," whispered some boys who had followed the
crier at a distance. "Oh my! must we not be good, or we shall get
whacks."
The man who approached was not called Austin at his baptism, nor was
Austin his surname; nor was the rock called after him, but rather he
after the rock; for, having come to inhabit one of the dwellings
excavated out of it, in which he kept a day school, the name that had
attached to the prong of sandstone adhered to him.
He was more than schoolmaster. He was knobbler at the Church of
Kinver--that is to say, it was his office to walk about during divine
service, and tap on the head any man or boy overtaken with sleep. The
wand of office was painted white, and had a blue knob at the end.
It may now be understood why the boys who had mimicked and
surrounded the bellman in the streets of Kinver kept distance and
maintained a sober demeanour. Before them was a man who was a
schoolmaster, and gave whacks during the week, and who was a
knobbler, and could crack their heads on the Sunday. In his double

capacity he was a man greatly to be respected and avoided by boys.
To a boy a soldier or a sailor is a joy; a policeman is an object of
derision; a ghost is viewed with scepticism; a devil is hardly considered
at all; but a schoolmaster is looked on, preferentially from afar, as a
concentration of all horrors, and when accentuated with investiture with
knobbledom, as something the quintessence of awfulness.
"Repeat again. I didn't hear exactly," said Holy Austin.
The crier obeyed.
The