While puss was beating the billows at sea, poor Whittington was severely beaten at home by his tyrannical mistress the cook, who used him so cruelly, and made such game of him for sending his cat to sea, that at last the poor boy determined to run away from his place; and having packed up a few things he had, he set out very early in the morning, on Allhallow’s day. He travelled as far as Holloway, and there sat down upon a stone to consider what course he should take; but while he was thus ruminating, Bow bells, of which there were only six, began to ring, and he thought their sounds addressed him in this manner:—
“Turn again, Whittington,
“Lord Mayor of London.”
“Lord Mayor of London,” said he to himself, “what would one not endure to be Lord Mayor of London, and ride in such a fine coach. Well, I’ll go back again, and bear all the pummelling;
