The story goes that Cardinal Wolsey, when a young parish priest, was put in the stocks at Lymington by Sir Amyas Poulett, for having "exceeded" at a village feast. The old "Chap" books contain numerous references to the stocks of course. Welch Taffy, "the unfortunate traveller," was put into the stocks for calling a justice of the peace a "boobie;" and "Simple Simon," when he interfered in a butter-woman's quarrel, was adjudged to be drunk and put into the stocks between the two viragoes, who scolded him all the time. The story of Lord Camden is probably well known. When a young barrister he had a desire to try the stocks, and was left in them by an absent-minded friend, for the greater part of the day. The last stocks in London were those of St. Clement's Dane's in Portugal Street, which were removed in 1826, to make way for local improvements. As late as 1860 one John Gambles of Stanningly was sentenced to sit in the stocks for six hours for Sunday gambling, and actually endured his punishment.[165:1] Stocks were last to be seen at Heath near Wakefield, Painswick in Gloucestershire, and other places. In all cases the physical discomfort of the stocks, no less than that of the pillory, was generally aggravated by the rude horse-play of a jeering and actively offensive mob. A reference to the inconvenient attentions of the bystanders at such an exhibition will be found in an old "Chap" book, entitled "The True Trial of the Understanding," in which among other riddles the following is given: "Promotion lately was bestowed Upon a person mean and small: Then many persons to him flowed, Yet he returned no thanks at all. But yet their hands were ready still To help him with their kind good-will." The answer is, a man pelted in the pillory. Worse sometimes happened, and in several cases death ensued from ill-usage in the pillory. Thus when John Waller, _alias_ Trevor, was pilloried in 1732, in Seven Dials, for falsely accusing innocent men, so as to obtain the reward given on the conviction of highwaymen, so great was the indignation of the populace that they pelted him to death. The coroner's inquest returned a verdict of wilful murder, but against persons unknown. In 1763 a man who stood in the pillory at Bow, for an unnatural crime, was killed by the mob. Ann Marrow, who had been guilty of the strange offence of disguising herself as a man, and as such marrying three different women, was sentenced to three months' imprisonment, and exposure on the pillory, at Charing Cross. So great was the resentment of the populace, principally those of the female sex, that they pelted her till they put out both her eyes.[167:1]