Uncle Joe's Stories

Uncle Joe's Stories Page 9

by Baron Edward Hugessen Knatchbull-Hugessen Brabourne

  THE CRONES OF MERSHAM.

  Things are very dull now-a-days in the country districts of England.

  The country gentlemen have got into the habit of going to London agreat deal more than they used to do before railroads were made asextensively as has been the case of late years. The farmers, too, moveabout more than they did in the olden days, and act very differently inmany respects from their forefathers.

  Nor are the labourers quite the same; they ask more wages, touch theirhats to master, squire, and parson less than they did, and discussmatters of politics and the government of the country, which formerlynever entered their heads.

  I dare say it is all right: it is a wise and good frame of mind tocherish, which teaches one that whatever _is_, is right, althoughit is sometimes very difficult to think so.

  For instance, when my tooth takes to aching without any obvious cause,and certainly very much against my will, the fact of its doing so iswell established, but the existing state of things in my face is notrecognised by me--not for one single moment--as right because it _is_the existing state. And when I have overdrawn my account at mybanker's, and the state of things is that he will not let me do so anymore, the circumstance that it is so does not reconcile me to the factin the very slightest degree.

  Still, as regards the progress which this country has made, and thecondition at which we have now arrived, I am ready to bow my headmeekly, and allow that as a general maxim, the general results may beadmitted by me to be "all right."

  There _are_ the railroads, and (though the carriages are not alwayscomfortable, and the trains generally late) they afford such facilitiesfor the gentryfolk to go to town, that we cannot wonder at their doingso. If it is not right that they should, surely railroads would neverhave been permitted, cutting up the beautiful country as they do, andsending their screaming engines along through the green fields andthriving plough-lands, where all before was peaceful and quiet.

  Then if the farmers are changed, it is also all for the best withoutdoubt. Changed they are, beyond all question. They are a differentclass of men from the old species of farmer who existed fifty yearsago, and who seldom went further than his market town.

  Our farmers, now-a-days, have all visited London again and again, andinstead of the homely talk over a market dinner which used to takeplace in old days, they have got "Chambers of Agriculture," in whichthey evince a remarkable ability in discussing anything whichParliament proposes to do about agricultural matters, and talk nearlyas wisely, I am told, as the members of the House of Commons itself!

  Still, however, I stick to my text, and say that, being as it is, itmust be all right.

  Of course it is, and so also with regard to the labourers. When I was aboy they did not know half as much as they do now, but they worked wellfor all that.

  I have lodged in two rooms in this farmhouse in which I write fortwenty-seven years come next Michaelmas, and I have often heard farmerBarrett say that his best labourers were generally those who couldneither read nor write.

  Most of them can do both now, and people used to say that it was a sinand a shame that every labourer should not be able to read his Bibleand write his name in it.

  "All right," again say I, only unfortunately (as I sometimes venture tothink) it is not their Bibles they read, so much as the penny papers,and these sometimes teach them different lessons from the Bible, Ifancy. Then there is a lot of cheap--well, trash I was going to say,and I think I must, too--a lot of cheap trash which is sent about allover the country, or which they pick up here and there, and whichteaches them lessons altogether mischievous.

  Moreover, they have societies, which are curious sort of concerns, I amtold, and through which they are taught actually to demand an increaseof wages, and various other things which were never thought of in oldtimes.

  All these things have made the country districts of England verydifferent places from what they used to be when I first knew them. Thatis now a long time ago, but I know a great deal that happened before Iknew anything from my own eyesight and observation--I mean before I wasborn.

  I am an old man now, and having enough money to live upon and becomfortable, I have all my lifetime indulged my inclination for livingin the country.

  I used to make it my principal endeavour to avoid railways. I hiredlodgings in rustic villages, and lived quietly therein, studying theways and habits of the people, and picking up old legends, which wasalways my chief delight. But wherever I went, a railroad was sure to beimmediately afterwards projected through that particular district.

  The steam fiend seemed to have marked me out as an involuntary pioneerto herald his advance; and, move where I would, he and his myrmidonsvery shortly appeared in my wake.

  This continued for five and twenty years--for I began my system ofcountry-lodging when I was a tolerably young man--barely turned thirty.When I tell you, as I did just now, that I have been in my presentabode for twenty-seven years, a little calculation will show you that Ishall never again see my eighty-second birthday. You will therefore, Ihope, excuse the garrulity of old age, and forgive me if I havesomewhat wandered from the tale which in fact I have not yet begun, butwhich I have been leading up to all this time.

  For you must know that the changes of which I have been speaking havehad great effect upon other people besides gentry, farmers, andlabourers. There are nothing like so many witches, wizards and curiouscreatures of that kind as there were, in country places, in the goodold times.

  I do not for one moment say that this is to be regretted. On thecontrary, I say again, that being so, I have no doubt it is "allright."

  But, right or wrong, it is undoubtedly true that the witches, warlocksand wise women have greatly diminished, if indeed they have notaltogether vanished. I hope it will be understood that by "wise women"I do not allude to the ladies who give scientific lectures and talkabout a variety of subjects upon which they evidently know much morethan an old gentleman like I am could ever know, and, I must say, morethan I should like to know about some things.

  This is a different kind of wisdom altogether, and there are plenty ofpersons who possess it, or think they do, which serves their purposequite as well. I mean "wise," in the sense of possessing an unusual andsupernatural insight into things which are commonly hidden from mortalknowledge.

  Of these people there are few, if any, left in the present day; or ifthere are such, they do not come to the front as they once did. Thereare, indeed, many persons in the world now, who actually disbelieve inwitches and all creatures of that sort, and who not only disbelieve intheir existence now, but who stoutly maintain that they never _did_exist.

  I don't know how they get over the Witch of Endor, or the various otherallusions to witches in the Bible, but I suppose they _do_ somehow orother.

  People are much too clever for me, nowadays, and get over anydifficulty that comes in their way--or fancy that they do so, andtrouble themselves no more about it. I have even heard peopledisbelieve in fairies, but that of course is sheer nonsense; and no onewho wanders--as I have often done, at all seasons and at allhours--through the glorious English woodlands, can doubt the existenceof the dear little elves.

  Doubt their existence! I should as soon think of doubting my own! Howdo the fairy-rings come, I should like to know? Whence comes the nameof "the Fairy Well"--not uncommon by any means? Oh, no! I do notbelieve that anybody disbelieves that fairies exist, though I know thatthere is a dreadful amount of unbelief in the world regarding warlocksand witches.

  I am glad to say that good Farmer Barrett was never one of theunbelievers. He was near upon seventy when I first came to lodge underhis roof, so that if he had lived till now he would have beenninety-seven. As he didn't, however, it is no use making the remark. Hedied some twelve years ago, when about eighty-five; cut off, as one maysay, in the prime of life.

  Ah, me! how our friends, young and old, fall around us, like grass. Mygodson, Jack Barrett, here remarks, with less of reverence than I couldhave wished, in spe
aking of his grandfather, that a man taken away ateighty-five would be better compared to hay than grass. Well, well,Jack is young; barely forty, and boys _must_ have their jokes, as weall know.

  I was going to say that good Farmer Barrett's death affected me verymuch. He was a very great comfort to me, was Farmer Barrett. It was notonly that we agreed upon most points, and thought alike in a mannermost satisfactory to both of us. _That_ was a great comfort, living aswe did under the same roof, and sitting together, either in his kitchenor my parlour, almost every evening, to enjoy a quiet gossip. But therewere other comforts too, and the chief one--that which I may fairlyconsider the principal advantage which I reaped from the society ofFarmer Barrett--was derived from his extraordinary knowledge of thelegends and traditions of his native county concerning witches andwizards.

  Many and many an evening have we sat talking upon such matters, till Ihave really felt quite nervous about going to bed. Not that I am anervous man: not by any means; but I own that more than once, afterdiscussing witches and their cats to a late hour, I have felt a curioussensation when the house cat came rubbing herself against my shins, andhave looked with a species of creepy feeling over my left shoulder as Iwent upstairs to bed, almost thinking I should see something "uncanny"close behind me.

  I never knew any man with such a collection of stories and legends asold Barrett. He had tales without end of the "Warlock of Coombe," the"Wizard of Bockhanger," and the "Witch of Brook Hollow." He could tellof the dark doings of the "Hag of Hothfield," and the fearful creaturewho so long inhabited the regions of Charing, and darkened the woods ofLongbeach with her awesome shadow.

  I do not believe that any witch or wizard ever existed in Kent whosestory was not well known to Barrett. Of his own knowledge he could tellsomething. Once there happened a curious thing in his stables.

  His two teams of horses, fed alike, housed equally well, and treatedwith precisely the same care, strangely varied in their appearance andcondition. One team were always sleek and slim, "fat and well-liking,"like Pharaoh's fat kine, and the admiration of all beholders. The otherteam were just the reverse. Nothing they took seemed to agree withthem, they fell away, their bones started through their skins, andtheir appearance was a disgrace to the farm. This state of thingsgreatly puzzled and annoyed the farmer and his men.

  Barrett himself laid the blame upon the waggoner and his mate, andthreatened to discharge both of them if things went on so, as he feltsure they petted one team of horses at the expense of the other. Themen earnestly denied the charge, and were evidently much vexed at itshaving been made.

  Things went on the same until at last the waggoner, who was a cleverand withal a courageous man, determined to sit up all night and watch.He did so, being carefully hidden in the corner of the stable. Thehorses fed well, and lay down as usual. All was quiet until twelveo'clock struck. At that moment several little men, about a foot high,leaped down from the loft above the stables, and going to the favouredteam, began to brush and comb them with great care and energy, rubbingthem well all over and uttering no words to anybody as they did so,save to each other as they worked, as if to encourage themselves togreater exertions.

  "I work--you work, I work--you work," they kept saying, and the coatsof the horses rapidly became more smooth and glossy, until, when thelittle men had finished, they were perfect models of what horses shouldbe.

  They merely looked at the other team with funny faces, and thenhastened up again to their loft. All this the waggoner duly told hismaster next morning, and, of course, with the natural incredulity ofman, he at first refused to believe it.

  But when, upon the man again and again assuring him of its truth, hedetermined to put the matter to the proof by hiding himself that samenight, he saw precisely the same thing, and was of course convinced.

  I forget how the story ended, but I know that, somehow or other, hemanaged to get some "wise" person in the neighbourhood to speak up forthe poor, thin team, and prevent the little elves, or whatever theywere, from "spiting" them any more.

  Then the farmer had a tale which had been told him by a groom he hadonce in his service, who came from the hill above Charing. Up over thehill there was a reputed witch, Mrs. Dorland.

  I questioned the groom about this woman myself, so I may as well givethe story in his own words.

  "She were a noted witch, she were," he said.

  "How do you know?" I asked, not because I myself doubted for a moment,but because I wanted to glean all the particulars I possibly could.

  "Bless ye, sir," replied the youth, "I knows all about it because o' mygrandfather. She wouldn't never let him alone. I expect he'd affrontedher, one time or other. I recollect when I was a-staying along with himonce, and the door locked and all--he looked over the stairs and there,sure enough, was old Dame Dorland on the mat at the bottom, and hereyes! oh they _glounded_ in her head, they did!"

  "But how did she get in?" I asked.

  "That's just what I want to know," answered the boy. "The door was shutand fast locked; but there she was, anyhow. Another time my grandfatherhad to drive some bullocks down to Ashford market, and he overtook DameDorland. She had a basket on her arm, and she asked my grandfather tocarry it for her. He wouldn't. I expect he didn't know what bad gamemight be up. Well, do you think he could keep his bullocks in the road,after that? Not he: they was over the hedge, first one side and thenanother, and then they was for running back. He couldn't do nothingwith them, so he turns back and offers to carry the old girl's basket.Then the bullocks was all right directly, and he hadn't no trouble ingetting them along all the way to Ashford."

  Since Farmer Barrett had lived all his life in a county where suchpeople as Dame Dorland were to be found, there can hardly be muchsurprise felt at his entire and implicit belief in witchcraft.

  But the most wonderful tale that he ever told me was that which notonly concerned the county, but the very district in which he dwelt. Itis a story to which I listened with intense interest when first I heardit, and my interest was never lessened by its repetition.

  Again and again I asked the old farmer to go over it once more, and Icross-examined him upon all the particulars of his tale in a mannerwhich would really have offended some people of my acquaintance. He,however, was not only not offended, but pleased at the perseverancewith which I questioned him.

  He told me the story, in fact, so often, that I got to know it nearlyby heart; and I think it is one which I ought to relate for the benefitof a world, in which, as far as I can see, belief of any kind, andcertainly belief in witches and the like, will shortly be extinct.

  The parish of Mersham has long been known as a favourite resort ofqueer people of the kind of whom I am speaking. It is a very long,narrow parish: much narrower, of course, at some parts than others.

  Its north end runs into and beyond the park of Mersham Hatch--that is,the west side of the park, the east side being in the parishes ofBrabourne and Smeeth. The south part of the parish joins Bilsington andAldington, and on the south west you are very close upon the Ruckingeand Orlestone big woods--so close that I am not sure whether a portionof that vast tract of woodland does not actually lie within theboundaries of the parish of Mersham. Be that as it may, it is a wildpart of the world, and just the very sort of place in which you wouldfancy witches and their confederates to abound. Whether you fancy it ornot, however, beyond all doubt such was the case, in the good old timesof which I speak.

  No one ever dreamed of being out at night in those parts if he couldpossibly help it. The roads were wretchedly bad, full of deep ruts andbig stones, with ditches inconveniently exposed on either side, andbushes jutting out from the adjoining woods in the most awkward mannerfor the traveller.

  But it was not the badness of the roads which deterred people frommoving about at night, or towards evening, but something much worse,namely the strange and terrible beings who frequented the locality.

  All kinds of rumours were current with respect to witch meetings, andgatherings held by wic
ked creatures, upon which, if a mortal man ofordinary mould happened to come, he ran a terrible risk of somedreadful misfortune happening to him and his, shortly afterwards.

  Cottages were few and far between: there was scarce a public house tobe found in the neighbourhood, save one or two which had an evilreputation as the haunt of smugglers and outlawed men.

  No gentleman's house was near, and Bilsington Priory had passed awaywith all its holy train of priests, and nothing was to be seen of theirformer glory, and no vestige of themselves either, unless it was truethat a monk walked occasionally round the walls with ghostly tread, andmoaned, deeply and sadly, as he compared the past with the present. Inshort, it was a wild, weird country, and wild, weird people dweltthere.

  From Aldington Knoll, right away down to the other side of Ham-street,the thick woods contained a class of beings who, if they lived therenowadays, would be a horror to all Christian men, and an intolerablenuisance to the Kent County Constabulary. There were, however, honestmen there, as everywhere else; and, although for the most part suchpeople preferred to dwell nearer Mersham-street or immediately belowthe church, yet the scattered cottages further south were notaltogether without inmates, who, having nowhere else to live, livedthere.

  John Gower was one of these, a respectable middle-aged man, who won hisbread by the sweat of his brow, and was proud of the name of a Kentishlabourer.

  John had married early in life, lost his wife after the birth of theirfourth child, and remained a widower ever since. Although he couldneither read nor write, he was blessed with good common sense, and wasable to give his children plain and sensible advice, which might servethem, he said, in as good stead as book-learning, if they would onlylay it to heart and act upon it.

  His eldest girl, Mary, was as good a girl as you would meet in a day'sjourney. She had her good looks (as most Mersham girls have), but shehad that which is even better than good looks, an even temper and agood disposition. She was about seventeen when our story begins; herbrother Jack, between fifteen and sixteen, was away at work "down inthe sheers" (shires), as the neighbours called all other counties buttheir own; and two little ones, Jane, under fourteen, and Billy, justtwelve, were at home, the former helping her sister as well as shecould, and the latter doing such odd jobs as could be found for him,and doing no more mischief than a boy of his age could help.

  The cottage in which they lived was very near the big woods--too nearto be pleasant for anyone who feared witches or wizards--and it must beconfessed that John Gower was not without his fears.

  He had various horse-shoes nailed up about his premises to keep theevil creatures off, and he carefully barred his doors and windows everynight, not knowing what might happen if any of them were left open. Hecould tell of strange cries heard in the woods at night, and if yousuggested that they might proceed from owls, he shook his head sadlyand gravely, as one who knew better, and grieved over your doubtingspirit.

  But in spite of his fears and precautions, and the strange locality inwhich he lived, Gower could not be called otherwise than a cheerfulman. He worked all day, got home as soon as he could, was pleasant andhappy with his children (of whom he was very fond), and was certainlyof a contented disposition, and one who made the best of the world andtook things as he found them.

  Such was he and such was his family at the time that the occurrencestook place which I am about to relate.

  Some years before the date at which our story commences, there hadlived at the extreme south of the parish of Mersham a woman of the nameof Betty Bartlet. She was not only a reputed witch, but the fact of herbeing so was testified to by a great number of credible witnesses whohad either suffered in their own persons from her evil power, or hadseen and heard things which could not have been had she been anordinary and Christian woman.

  She lived to a very great age--nobody knew exactly how old she was whenshe died; and, although the rumours respecting her career caused theclergyman of the Parish to entertain serious doubts as to the course heshould pursue, she was eventually carried to Mersham churchyard to betherein interred.

  But if I am correctly informed--and I obtained my information fromhighly respectable people--there were strange and terrible doings ather funeral.

  She was carried on a waggon, from the cottage in which she had breathedher last, as far as the bridge over the river Stour, which flows, asall the world knows, a few hundred yards south of the church. There,from some unknown cause, the horses would not cross the bridge; and itwas told me that they seemed quite exhausted with the shortjourney--little over three miles--which they had performed.

  So the people unharnessed them from the waggon, placed all thatremained of old Betty on the shoulders of eight stout bearers, andmarched forward towards the churchyard. But not only was their burdenwondrously heavy, but it seemed to grow heavier as they went on, andthey had the greatest difficulty in making their way up the short hill,and so round to the right towards the churchyard. And just before theygot to the gate, why or wherefore nobody could tell, one of the bearersstumbled, and in doing so tripped up another, and down came the wholeconcern with a great crash upon the ground. Everything connected withtheir burden suddenly disappeared: a vast cloud of black dust arose andblew all over the place, and out of the dust flew a great black bird,with a strange and awful croak, with which it terribly frightened thebystanders and bearers, as it flew off directly in the contrarydirection to the churchyard.

  What happened immediately afterwards Farmer Barrett never heard, or, atleast, he never told me, but nobody ever doubted that the old witch hadflown off in the shape of the black, fearsome bird, being unable toenter the holy ground of the churchyard. Be this as it may, the ancientwoman left behind her three daughters, who had all inherited theirmother's wickedness, and were witches every one of them. Their actualnames were Betty, Jane, and Sarah, but they were popularly known asSkinny, Bony, and Humpy, the two elder sisters being thin and gaunt,whilst the youngest was shorter, and had a species of hump between hershoulders.

  Every one in Mersham, and, for the matter of that, in the adjoiningparishes also, knew these three sisters by sight, and avoided them asmuch as possible. No conceivable misfortune ever happened in thatneighbourhood that was not attributed to their influence, and all thatwent wrong was immediately laid at their door.

  The sisters were well aware of the awe with which the neighboursregarded them, and took good care that it should not diminish, neverlosing an opportunity of frightening those simple people with whom theycame in contact. They lived in a long, low cottage--scarcely worthy ofthe name of cottage--so miserable was it both as regards the outsidebuilding and the inside accommodation. The roof was of thatch, and thedwelling itself was at one end built of Kentish rag-stone, but badlyconstructed, and all the rest of it was composed entirely of wood, andapparently afforded but poor shelter against wind and rain.

  The women lived mostly at the stone-built end of their house, for therewas their kitchen, such as it was; but very little was known of theinterior of this place, inasmuch as nobody came near it who couldpossibly go another way. It was situate, however, barely half a milefrom John Gower's cottage, a fact which caused him and his no littleannoyance, inasmuch as the three Crones of Mersham, as they wereusually called, were not the best of neighbours, and never veryparticular as far as other people's property was concerned.

  Now John Gower had a great number of relations; in fact there was andis an old proverb in his native parish, to the effect that "if you knowthe Gowers, you know all Mersham;" and certainly the knowledge would tothis day make you acquainted with a large quantity of people.

  They were none of them rich relations, certainly, unless you might haveapplied that adjective to the wife of a certain Farmer Long who lived afew miles off, and whose husband might certainly be said to bethriving.

  Sally Long was a stout, comfortable-looking dame, who could not fairlyhave found fault if you had called her fat, but who, unlike most fatpeople, was not gifted with the best of tempers. If a
ll reports weretrue, she led her husband rather a life of it, and scolded prettyequally all her household. She had no children, and her husband's sonby a former wife being a trifle weak in the head, and for that reasongenerally known by the name of "Simple Steenie," there was no one todispute her authority in house, yard or farm.

  These worthy people lived in the parish of Aldington, and although JohnGower was no looker after dead men's shoes, and a man who would havescorned to bow down before any one for the sake of their wealth, hethought it was but right and fair towards his children to encouragethem to maintain friendly relations with his distant cousin, Dame Long.

  She had noticed the children more than once, when they were quitelittle things; and when a woman of a certain age, with no children ofher own, notices the children of other people, who happen to be her ownrelations, there is no telling what may come of it. So the boys hadorders to take their caps off and the girls to drop a respectfulcurtsey whenever they passed Mrs. Long, and any little act of civilitywhich they could possibly perform was never forgotten.

  Now it happened that someone, many years ago, had given to the Gowerfamily a very particular cat. When I use the word "particular," I donot mean to imply a very strict or fastidious cat, but one that wasparticular in the sense of being different from the general run ofcats, which was certainly true of this individual cat.

  She was jet black, which you will say is not at all uncommon; butFarmer Barrett always maintained that no cats that he ever heard ofwere _so_ jet and so glossy as the Gower cats. She was a magnificentanimal: her whiskers unusually long, her tail splendidly bushy, herbody beautifully and symmetrically made, and her head, in size, shape,and the intelligence which was displayed upon her face, little short ofperfection.

  This cat lived until a great age, and nobody exactly knew when or whereit died. To tell the truth there was always a legend in the Gowerfamily that it never _did_ die, at least not in their cottage, but thatit disappeared on the very day of old Betty Bartlet's death.

  I do not know--for Farmer Barrett could not tell me, though I asked himmore than once--how they connected the two events, but neverthelessthey had this legend, if so I may call it.

  But whatever happened to this cat, of one thing there is certainly nodoubt, namely, that during her lifetime she several times went throughthe ceremony of kittening, and that her race seemed by no means likelyto be extinct. Her kittens were always black, always very glossy andalways remarkably clever and intelligent, and people were always gladto get a kitten of the Gower breed.

  So when, upon a fine summer's morning, one of the descendants of thefamous animal of which I have spoken was found by John Gower with alittle family of four kittens around her, he and his children were notdispleased at the addition to their household. And when, after a fewdays, one of these kittens appeared to be developing into an animalmore comely and more sprightly than the rest, the worthy man thought itwould be a proper and becoming compliment upon his part if he made apresent of it to good Mrs. Long.

  So he told Mary that she should take it up in a little basket the verynext day, give his "duty" to "old aunt Sally" (for so they called herin the cottage when they spoke of her among themselves, though it wasalways "Mrs. Long" when they spoke _to_ her) and ask her acceptance ofthe gift. Mary made her preparations accordingly. She could not go upto the farm in the morning, for she had the rooms to "do," the house tosweep, father's dinner to get ready and carry to him, and a number oflittle jobs to get done which it was necessary to finish before shecould feel herself at liberty to go out.

  At last, however, every duty seemed to have been discharged, as isalways the case, at some time or other, if people will only setthemselves at work to do resolutely that which they have before them todo, instead of sitting down with folded hands and sighing over theprospect of it.

  It must have been between three and four o'clock in the afternoon whenMary found that she could get away with a clear conscience. Then sheput on her little straw hat, donned her grey cloak, put the kitten in alittle basket with a little hay for it to lie on, and called herbrother Billy to come with her, wisely thinking this the most likelyway to keep him out of mischief.

  It was a truly glorious afternoon, such as an English summer'safternoon often is.

  "Talk to me about foreign countries," as Farmer Barrett often used tosay, snapping his fingers audibly, "_that_ for your furrineerers; therean't no land like old England, to my mind;" and, being myself old andprejudiced, I confess that I am very much of the good old farmer'sopinion.

  It is very charming, no doubt, to roam through foreign lands, and thereis doubtless much to admire. When I shut my eyes and muse overbeautiful views that I have seen, many such come back to me withpleasing memories.

  I see the sparkling Rhine with castle-crowned heights, and sceneryworld-worshipped for its varied beauty; I gaze with a delight temperedwith awe upon the mighty snow-clad mountains of life-breathingSwitzerland; I sit upon the shores of the sea of seas, theMediterranean, and I cast my eyes upon its waters of eternal blue; and,most wonderful sight of all, I stand upon the plateau opposite theCascatelle at Tivoli, and, with the waterfall and town on one side,Adrian's Villa nestling below on the left, and the hills behind, lookout over the vast Campagna with its ever-changing lights, seeRome--grand, glorious Rome--in the far distance, and feel carried outof myself and away from all ideas of mere earth and earthly things as Ilose all individuality of being in the absorbing contemplation of abeauty so divinely sublime.

  And then--as the magic power of thought enables me to move faster thanrailroads, steamers, or electric telegraphs--I suddenly transportmyself to a quiet, homely, English scene upon a summer's afternoon; andI think to myself that neither the Rhine, Switzerland, nor Italy canproduce anything more pleasing to the eye, more soothing to the senses,or more entirely enjoyable to any person capable of enjoyment, and notgiven to despise the beauties of scenery merely because they can beseen at home without hurrying off to foreign lands.

  MARY AND BILLY MEET THE CRONES.--P. 305]

  Such a summer's afternoon fell on this particular day of which we arenow speaking. There was hardly a breath of air, but the woods havinggot their shady green dress on, kept off the heat of the sun from thetraveller on the road which intersected them. It was very warm, though,and very still; and you might hear the voices of the woodland birds,singing in notes which seemed somewhat subdued, as if the heat forbadethe songsters to exert themselves to their full strength.

  But, warm as it was, there was a very pleasant feeling in the air.Nature seemed to be basking in the sun and thoroughly enjoyingherself--the rabbits hopped across the road as quietly as if there wereno such things as weasels in the world, and keepers had never existed:the old jay flitted heavily from tree to tree, her hard note softeneddown to a low guttural sound--all insect life was on the move, andevery living being seemed to delight in the genial weather.

  Of course, under these circumstances, Mary and Billy Gower did not walkvery fast. On the contrary, they rather dawdled, for Billy saw now andthen a butterfly, now and then a birds' nest, and was constantlytempted to leave the road and dive into the woods on either side,whilst his sister did not like to hurry on and leave him, and saw noreason for particular haste.

  They passed along for some way without adventure, until Aldington Knollcame in sight, although they were still in the shady lanes of their ownparish. Then, on turning a corner, they came suddenly upon two figuresapproaching them from the opposite direction, that is to say, as ifthey had come from Aldington Knoll. The children needed no secondglance to tell them that they were in the presence of two of theMersham crone. "Lanky" and "Skinny" were the lovely pair whom they hadthe good fortune thus to meet, and the children felt by no meanscomfortable when they saw them. Mary, indeed, being now seventeen, andhardly to be deemed a child any longer, felt no babyish fear at thesight of the old women. She was, as I have said, a good sort of girl,and one who tried to do her duty; and she had a feeling within her (assuch people generall
y have) that as long as she did so, no great harmwould be allowed to happen to her.

  But, as for little Billy, who had occasionally been threatened, whennaughty, that he should be given to the crones, he could by no means berestrained from great manifestations of fear. He trembled greatly assoon as he saw the two, clutched hold of his sister's gown, and beggedher to turn back and run away, as they were still forty or fifty yardsfrom the old women. This, however, would have been contrary to Mary'ssense of right.

  She had been sent by her father to perform a certain duty, and thatduty, come what would, she meant to discharge, unless prevented bysuperior force. So she trudged on steadily along the road, and herbrother accompanied her, probably because he thought it the least oftwo evils, and was too much terrified to run away. As they neared thetwo crones, they could not but feel that there was nothing eitherprepossessing or agreeable in the appearance of the latter.

  Their clothes were untidy and ill-fitting: each had a kind of hood halfdrawn over her head; but not sufficiently so as to conceal herdecidedly ugly features, whilst a certain wild, haggard look, which satupon their faces, was anything but calculated to put the traveller athis ease. They walked, or rather crawled, along one side of the road,and close behind them followed a gaunt cat, which, if formerly black,was now gray with age, and which wore upon its face the same haggardlook which was so plainly discernible upon those of the hagsthemselves.

  Mary and Billy walked quietly on, and were just passing these strangebeings, and really beginning to hope they might be allowed to do sowithout interruption, when they were suddenly pulled up by the harshvoice of the crone nearest to them, who called out "Stop!" in a voiceharsher than the croak of a raven, but with such a tone of authoritythat no thought of disobeying her entered the head of either of thoseshe addressed even for a single moment.

  "Stop, young people!" she said a second time; "whither away so fastthis afternoon?"

  Mary civilly replied, "We are going up to Farmer Long's, ma'am; fathersent us."

  "Ah!" replied the crone; "going up to Farmer Long's for father, are ye,my chickens? Fine times, forsooth, when John Gower's children govisiting instead of minding their business at home. But pray, what haveyou got in that basket, my pretty Minnikin?"

  "Only a kitten, ma'am, that father is going to give to Aunt Sal--I meanto Mrs. Long," replied the girl.

  "_Only_ a kitten!" cried the other crone, who had not yet spoken;"_only_ a kitten, indeed! and how does John Gower the labourer havekittens to give away, I should like to know? Our poor old Grimalkinhere has lost a kitten lately--I wonder whether this can be the same,strayed over to John Gower's house. If he _had_ a kitten to give away,he might have thought of his poor neighbours, methinks, instead of therich farmer's wife!"

  When Mary heard these words she begin to tremble for the safety of herkitten, for as I have already remarked, the Crones of Mersham were notfamous for distinguishing clearly between other people's property andtheir own.

  So she made reply very quickly in these words: "Please, ma'am, thiskitten can't be your cat's, because we've known it ever since it wasborn, and its mother too, and it has never been out of our charge yet."

  "No matter, no matter," said the crone in a testy voice; "let me seeit, and I shall soon know all about it."

  Mary did not dare refuse, nor would it have been of much use if she haddone so.

  The crone stretched out her long, skinny hand, and lifting thebasket-lid, saw the little black kitten; which, immediately that it sawher, crouched down in the corner of the basket and uttered a lowmoaning sound.

  "Poor little thing!" said the old hag. "Poor little thing! I can hardlysee it so. Look, sister Jane!" and the other crone came and peered alsointo the basket, whilst the kitten continued to crouch and moan.

  "The very image of our grimalkin, I do declare!" cried the second croneafter a moment. "It _must_ be hers--there can be no doubt at all aboutit."

  So saying, she put her hand down and stroked the back of the kitten, asif about to take it out of the basket.

  As soon as she touched it, however, the little animal, young as it was,appeared to go into a paroxysm of fear and fury; it growled and spit,made as if it would spring out of the basket, and suddenly inflicted asevere scratch on the hand which was about to seize it.

  The old woman's face immediately became distorted with rage, and as shehastily withdrew her hand, she fixed her eyes steadily upon the kitten,muttering at the same time some words which the children could notunderstand, but which sounded in their ears like anything but a prayer.Neither of the crones, however, tried further to interfere with thekitten, but begged of the children to give them money, saying that theywere nearly starving.

  Billy of course had nothing, and Mary only a penny, but she thought itbest to give that for fear of being bewitched if she refused; so,sorrowfully enough, the poor child drew out her only coin and placed itin the hand of one of the hags, who grinned frightfully by way ofthanks, and allowed the children to proceed on their way--althoughbefore they did so they could not help noticing the strange conduct ofgrimalkin, who threw herself on the side of the road, turned over andover, grinned like a Cheshire cat, and appeared to be convulsed withlaughter at all that had occurred.

  Mary and Billy, however, glad to have got away from the old women,hurried forward towards Farmer Long's dwelling.

  But now the conduct of the kitten became inexplicable. Up to the timeof their meeting the crones, it had behaved like a decent little animalof tender years, nestling quietly in its basket, and giving no troubleto anybody.

  It now took quite a different course. It moaned and whined as if itwanted to get out--it pushed against the basket, first on one side andthen on the other, as if trying to force its way through, and behavedin all respects as if it was a mad kitten,--although, as I never saw amad kitten, I am not sure how they _do_ behave exactly--but this wasFarmer Barrett's expression, and a man of his years and experience wasnot likely to be wrong.

  But more than this, although the kitten was young and small, and hadtherefore been very light and easy to carry, scarcely had the childrenpassed the crones than its weight seemed to increase vastly, and itbecame four times as heavy as before, until poor Mary's arm quite achedwith carrying it.

  Billy, seeing her trouble, advised her to turn it out into the woods;but Mary would not do this, being determined to obey her father'sorders, so she trudged steadily on until they came to the farm to whichthey had been sent.

  There they asked if Mrs. Long was at home, and were presently usheredinto the presence of that good lady, to whom they told the object oftheir visit. She received them very graciously, and expressed herselfmuch pleased with John Gower's attention in sending her the kitten,saying that she had always desired to have one of that breed.

  They opened the basket, and she was going to take the creature out,when it looked her straight in the face, and she drew back her hand atonce.

  "Lawkes! child!" she said to Mary; "how the thing's eyes do shine! Likelive coals of fire, I do declare. I never seen such eyes in all my borndays, that I never did!"

  As she spoke, the kitten saved her the trouble of removing it from thebasket by jumping out of its own accord on to the table, where it satglowering at the party, and making a low noise between a purr and agrowl, until Mrs. Long brought it some milk, with which it proceeded toregale itself, and the children, having had a slice of cake each, andbeen duly charged with the good lady's thanks to their father, tooktheir departure, and reached the cottage without further adventure.

  Now I verily believe that the doings of that kitten at Farmer Long'sfarm were of such a wonderful and unheard of character that a wholebook, and a very amusing book, too, might be written about them. Butpeople did not write many books in those days, and Farmer Barrett couldnot recollect many particulars about this part of his story. At allevents, there can be no doubt (to use his own expression) that theanimal's "tantrums" were extraordinary; the cream was constantlydevoured, and the best cream-jug broken
on one occasion, in order toget at it; the milk was for ever being upset; the marks of dirty pawswere daily to be seen on clean table cloths, or on the counterpanes ofbeds just made, and, in short, just wherever they ought not to be.

  Mrs. Long's best cap, having mysteriously disappeared one afternoon,was seen in the kitten's clutches upon the hearthrug, a perfect wreckof a cap, and useless for ever afterwards. Then the perverse littleanimal appeared to entertain a strong and marked partiality for youngducks and chickens, which she ruthlessly murdered whenever she couldlay her paws upon them, neglecting to touch any of the rats upon whichher energies might have been much more beneficially employed.

  Day by day depredations were committed, all of which were attributed tothe kitten, and most of which were probably perpetrated by her. Fromthe moment of her arrival at the farm, nothing seemed to prosper withthe Longs.

  Everything turned out just the reverse way to that which they hadhoped, and it really seemed as if some evil spell had been cast uponthem. Looking calmly back upon the whole history, I have no doubt atall but that the crones had bewitched the kitten when they met thechildren on that memorable afternoon, and that to this must beattributed all that afterwards occurred.

  However this may be, it was certainly an unlucky day for the Longs whenthat kitten came upon their premises, and that they very soon foundout.

  Still, people do not always put the saddle upon the right horseimmediately, and they did not at first believe that the animal hadanything to do with their ill-luck. Mrs. Long, however, who had an eyeto business, could not stand the constant inroad upon her ducks andchickens, to say nothing of the cream-jug, and the loss of her cap verynearly brought matters to a climax.

  She might perhaps, however, have borne it a little longer, had not anevent occurred which was really beyond anybody's bearing. One morning,when the worthy couple were at breakfast, the kitten calmly jumped onto the table, seized a piece of bacon which the farmer was about toplace upon his own plate, and deliberately carried it off.

  After this it was quite evident that she must be got rid of. No man canstand being robbed of his breakfast in such a barefaced manner, and thegood farmer spoke up pretty strongly on the subject. As the breed wassupposed to be a particularly good one, he did not order the animal tobe killed, nor indeed would he have ventured to do so unless his wifehad especially wished it, but he expressed himself in forcible terms asto the desirability of its quitting his premises with as little delayas possible.

  Mrs. Long had by this time become so entirely of the same opinion, thatshe resolved to take immediate steps to carry out the joint views ofher husband and herself. She accordingly directed that the cart shouldbe got ready the same afternoon, and that Tom the Bailiff should driveher down to Mersham, where she determined to restore the kitten to theGowers with her own hands.

  Accordingly, at the appointed time the cart was brought round, oldDapple, the steady pony, was in it, and Tom prepared to drive. Mrs.Long got in, and the kitten, who had shown an unwonted and marvellousdocility in submitting to be placed once more in a basket, was safelydeposited in her lap.

  Off they went, out of the farmyard into the lane, and taking a turnwhich brought them near to Aldington Knoll, descended towards the woodsthrough which runs the road from Mersham and Aldington to the canal,and so away across Romney Marsh to Dymchurch.

  You must understand that Tom and his mistress were heading away fromthe canal, only they had come into that road in order to reach thelower part of Mersham, in which was situate John Gower's cottage. Sowhen they came past Aldington Knoll, and descended the hill, the marshroad led back to the left, nearly parallel with that from which theycame, whilst they pushed straight forward along the road through thewoods.

  As soon as they got well into the wood, or rather, into the road oneach side of which the wood was wide and thick, old Dapple began toshow visible signs of uneasiness. He swerved first on one side of theroad, and then on the other, abandoning all the good, quiet habits of arespectable middle-aged pony, and behaving much more like a giddy youngcolt who had never been broken to harness.

  Tom the Bailiff who was a simple country lout, did not know what tomake of it, and was both confused and frightened when his mistressbegan to tell him that it was only his bad driving. But this wasevidently not the case. Dapple wanted very little driving at all, andthe best "whip" in the world could not have kept him straight when hewas in the mood which seemed now to have possessed him. Another causealso disquieted good Mrs. Long.

  The kitten began to fidget in her basket in a most unaccountable way,and to give vent to various discordant sounds, whilst the weight uponthe good lady's knees, as the basket had been on Mary's arm, was reallyunpleasantly heavy.

  They managed to get through the wood somehow or other, until they werewell out of the parish of Aldington and had entered that of Mersham.Here all their troubles increased--the kitten's struggles were moreviolent than before, and Dapple became perfectly unmanageable, untilall at once they perceived a large black cat upon one side of the road,which suddenly darted in front of the cart, and so startled the ponythat he shied quite across the road, brought the wheel of the cart overthe side of the ditch, and in another moment it was overset and itsoccupants were tumbled into the brambles and bushes with which theditch was choked.

  Had it been winter, or had there been much rain lately, poor Mrs. Longwould probably have been drowned, or at best would only have escapedwith a severe ducking. As it was, the principal risk of life or limbshe ran was from the kicking of the pony and as Dapple was too fat toindulge in any great manifestations of this kind, she was tolerablysafe from personal injury.

  But a stout woman overturned into a ditch full of brambles, is, afterall, a pitiable object, and is not likely to be improved either intemper or in appearance by the event. So as soon as the good lady couldscramble up into a sitting position she began to abuse everybody andeverything to the best of her ability, which was not inconsiderablewhen applied to such an attempt. She told Tom he should certainly "getthe sack" as soon as they got home; she declared Dapple was old andworn out, and only fit to draw the dung-cart in future, and she abusedthe kitten in no measured terms.

  But where was the kitten? In the tumble and scrimmage, the lid of thebasket had come off, and the animal had disappeared. Disappeared,however, only for a moment, for Tom the bailiff suddenly exclaimed in aterrified voice,--

  "Look'ee, missis, do look'ee now--there be our kitten sure-ly!" andcasting up her eyes, Mrs. Long beheld--or at least so she alwaysdeclared to her dying day--the kitten, seated upon the back of thelarge black cat which had been the cause of their disaster, and whichwas now careering full tilt down the road with this rider upon it.

  The old lady, being brave as she was stout (which is saying a greatdeal) felt nothing but rage when she saw what had happened, not only atthe impudence of the cat, but because this occurrence threw a lightupon the past, and at once opened her eyes to the truth, and disclosedthe reason of the kitten's abominable behaviour at the farm.

  After a moment's pause she broke out in great wrath:

  "It's them crones!" she cried in loud and excited tones. "It's themcrones, or some like 'em! That kitten's been bewitched--that's whatcome to it, Tom, you may depend upon't. Drat them witches!" Scarcelywere the words out of her mouth when she shrieked loudly--"Ah-a-ah!"

  "What's the matter, missis?" said Tom.

  "Why," replied she, "something scratched me;" and pointing to her arm,the sleeve around which had been pushed up high in her struggles to situpright, there indeed was a long, red scratch as if inflicted by thenail of a hand or the claw of an angry cat.

  To be sure, a lady who is seated in the middle of a bed of bramblescannot be expected to escape unscratched, and no supernatural agencyneed be invoked in order to produce such a misfortune. Still Mrs. Longalways declared that this was no bramble scratch, and coming as it didat the very moment when she was speaking strongly against the witches,there could be very little doubt as to the sourc
e from which the injuryreally came. However, witches or no witches, it was impossible to sitall the livelong afternoon in a ditch full of brambles, so with muchdifficulty and many struggles, Mrs. Long contrived to get up, and Tomthe Bailiff having looked to Dapple, found there was no very seriousdamage done either to him or to the cart. So they righted the latter,and having got into it, proceeded on their journey.

  True it was that there was now no kitten to take back to the Gowers,but the farmer's wife was determined to let them know the extraordinarymanner in which the animal had conducted itself, and had a greatdislike to turning back without reaching the place for which she hadstarted. So she directed Tom to drive on along the cross road whichleads from the Aldington woods to Bilsington, and comes out into themain road from Mersham to Romney Marsh. At that point, if you turn tothe left you can go to the Marsh, or to Ruckinge and Orlestone by aroad which lies a little further south, and if you turn to the right,you pass through the end of the great range of woods which occupy somuch of that district, and presently come from Bilsington into Mersham.

  Of course it was to the right that Mrs. Long turned, having made a kindof half-circle round Bilsington Priory, which was thus at her righthand all the time.

  It is necessary to be thus particular, in order that no innocent parishmay be wrongfully suspected of having harboured the strange and wickedcreatures whose power was almost entirely confined to parts of Mersham,Bilsington and Aldington, and some parishes further west on the bordersof the Marsh. A good name is a great possession, and the adjacentparishes of Sevington, Hinxhill, Smeeth and Sellinge have always beenso free from the worst class of witches that, in writing of thisneighbourhood, one wishes to be precise.

  After they had turned to the right, as I say, a short mile brought ourtravellers to John Gower's cottage; but before they reached it, theyhad to pass within a hundred yards or so of the abode of the crones, towhich a very little-frequented by-road led, branching off from the roadon which they were driving. It showed courage in Mrs. Long to take thisroute, especially after what had happened, but she was naturally a boldwoman, and perhaps she thought that the witches had probably done allthat they cared to do in having overturned her cart once, and stolenher kitten.

  Be this as it may, she reckoned without her host, for Dapple, who hadbeen quiet enough since the accident, began to grow restive again asthey neared the part of the road which I have mentioned, and, whenwithin fifty yards of it, suddenly stopped and refused to move an inch.

  Tom the Bailiff laid the whip over the pony's back with a will, but theonly effect was to make him rear and back, so that they were inimminent danger of a disaster similar to the first. Then, to makematters worse, there arose a cloud of fog before them, which was sothick they could see nothing, and had a disagreeable smell of smokeabout it. Whence or wherefore it came they could not tell, for the sunwas still high in the heavens and the sky above their heads clear andblue.

  It was evident that something evil was at hand and at work, and neitherMrs. Long nor her servant knew what to make of it.

  Presently the good lady called out angrily, "How dare you pinch my arm,Tom?" and gave a short, sharp scream as she said so.

  "Oh, don't, please don't, missis!" cried the man at the same moment, asa hand hit him a cruel box on the ear.

  It need scarcely be said that neither of the occupants of the cart hadtouched the other; but the matter did not end there. Pinches, pushes,scratches, thumps, hair-pulling, and kicking began to a mostextraordinary extent.

  No one could be seen, but invisible hands assailed both Mrs. Long andTom so fiercely and so vigorously, that they both shouted aloud withpain and terror, whilst, as if in answer to their cries, hoarsechuckles and deep bursts of laughter rang in their astonished ears,although no human being of any description was to be seen.

  Never was there a more unpleasant experience than that which the worthypair underwent, and how it would have ended I really cannot say, butfor an unlooked-for and fortunate event.

  All of a sudden the pinching and beating ceased, the laughter came toan end, and the fog or cloud disappeared, as it had come, by magic, asa cheery voice shouted out, close at hand,--

  "Halloo! who is this making such a noise in the road. My good people,it is too bad that you should let drink get the better of you in thisway!"

  Glancing indignantly round, they beheld no less a person than theworthy rector of Mersham himself, riding upon a stout gray cob, andevidently coming home from some expedition to the further extremity ofhis parish.

  Mrs. Long knew not what reply to make, but as soon as she recoveredherself sufficiently, she answered the appeal.

  "I am sure, sir, there is no call to say a word about drink, to whichsome folk lays everything that happens, be it what it will. But ifyou'd keep your parish clear of these here witches, you'd find thingsgo a good deal better!"

  The clergyman gravely shook his head.

  "You must know, my good woman," he replied, "that there are no suchbeings as witches, and you ought not to wrong elderly and respectablefemales by using such terms. There is nobody here, and nothing tohinder your journey. I am quite ashamed to see you stopping your cartin the middle of the road and quarrelling as has evidently been thecase. Take my advice, and get home as fast as you can." So saying, thegood man passed the cart and began to trot gently on.

  Dapple, as if his difficulties were suddenly over, and his objectionsto advance removed, immediately started after the rector's cob, andthus they passed the dreaded by-road without further trouble. But toher dying day, Mrs. Long always declared that she was sure they neverwould have got past if the rector hadn't come along just when he did.This shows the great and proper respect for the clergy which thenexisted, and is, moreover, a proof that Mrs. Long was a decent andrespectable woman, whose word may be taken as establishing beyond doubtthe truth of the events which I have undertaken to relate. But it layheavy on her soul, for many a long day, that the reverend man shouldhave thought she had been drinking, and made her more than ever angrywith the crones whose wicked dealings had caused such an imputation torest upon her.

  The rector had trotted briskly on, and was before long out of sight,but the cart was soon close to John Gower's cottage, between which andthe road was a bit of waste land; it might be as much as two or threeperches in size, for in those days every strip of land was not enclosedas it is now-a-days, but there were plenty of green patches by the sideof the roads, and in many places you could ride on grass for milestogether.

  It is very different now, and although it may be said on the one handthat we travel faster, witches are not heard of, and England is richerthan in those days; yet I often say to Jack Barrett that I think therewere a good many pleasant things in the old times, especially incountry life, which we do not get now, and for my part I should notmind having them back again, even with a few witches here and therewith them, provided we could get rid of some of the strange new-fangledideas and curious goings on which we have got instead, and which aremuch worse for all of us, than a witch or two or even a stray wizard.Well, Mrs. Long told Tom the Bailiff to drive upon this bit of waste asnear to the garden gate of John Gower's cottage as he could manage toget, and then down she scrambled and went into the house. John had notyet come home from his work, though he was expected every moment; butMary received her guest with much civility, for she was a good-manneredgirl, and knew how to behave to her betters.

  So she did the honours of the house, whilst her sister and Billy satstill and listened. Mrs. Long was, as you may suppose, not exactly inthe best of humours, nor was her dress in precisely that condition inwhich ladies like their dresses to be when they go out visiting. Youcannot be overturned into a ditch, scratched, pinched, hustled, andpushed, without some little disarrangement of your attire, and Mrs.Long's dress consequently required a good deal of "putting tidy," inwhich Mary Gower assisted her to the best of her ability. Whilst doingso, she listened to the account of all that had occurred since the dayupon which she and Billy had left the k
itten at the farm, and, uponbeing questioned by Mrs. Long as to the possible cause of itsbehaviour, she told her of their having met the two crones as I havedescribed.

  The farmer's wife then said that, had she known the circumstances, shewould have had nothing to do with the kitten; but that she did notblame Mary for not having told her, as of course she had not suspectedthat there was anything wrong with the animal. As she spoke, in cameJohn Gower from his work, and to him the whole story was soon told.

  John expressed his great regret at what had happened, and went so faras to offer the farmer's wife another kitten, but, under thecircumstances, she deemed it better to decline the offer; and,presently afterwards departed, taking good care to avoid the road bywhich she had come, and turning up instead by the road, at the cornerof which the "Good Intent" public-house now stands; by which means shekept to the north of the big woods, and got safely home. Her adventure,however, made no little talk in the neighbourhood, and people shooktheir heads, gravely and wisely, whenever the matter was mentioned.Mrs. Long herself was so angry at the disrespectful manner in which shehad been treated, and the unjust suspicion that had been raised in theclergyman's breast, that she could by no means be satisfied to restquiet.

  Before taking any steps, however, to get matters set right, shedetermined to make an expedition to Brabourne, where lived a wise womannamed Goody Flaskett, from whom she obtained sundry charms againstwitchcraft, with which she decorated herself, in order that she mightbe able to speak and act against witches with impunity. Thus armed, shenever lost an opportunity of doing both the one and the other; and Isuppose the charms must have had a certain power, because FarmerBarrett declared that the good woman, when she had them on, never feltany of those strange scratches from invisible hands which she hadexperienced when speaking against witches on the occasion alreadymentioned.

  Still, say and do what she would, the power of the Mersham crones didnot seem to be diminished. They seldom appeared all three together, butmight be said, generally, to "hunt in couples," although sometimes theywere met singly, but hardly ever without a great black cat.

  The kitten was never again seen by its former owners, but in allprobability had been taken by the crones to form one of the guardiancats by which they were thus attended.

  Petty thefts abounded in the neighbourhood, and no one suffered fromthem more than Farmer Long, although his farm was at a considerabledistance from the cottage of the crones.

  At last things got so bad that the farmer really thought he could standit no longer. So one day, after the disappearance of a fine lamb fromone of his fields, when the crone Humpy had shortly before been seen inthe immediate proximity of the flock, and one man went so far as to sayhe had seen her driving a lamb before her in the road, the farmerboldly applied to the nearest justice of the peace for a warrant tosearch the cottage.

  There was some little difficulty in the matter, owing to thecircumstance that old Finn, the Mersham constable, positively declinedfor some time to go near the place, but upon being encouraged by theparish constable of Smeeth, bold Joe Worrell, who offered to go withhim, they proceeded to perform their duty, accompanied by the farmer.

  Mrs. Long had gone to Dymchurch that day for a breath of sea air, sothat he knew she would not be uneasy about him, and deemed it but rightto back up the officers of justice, whom he met by appointment at thefoot of Collier's Hill in Mersham, and they advanced together. But theroad appeared to be endless, for although it could not be much morethan two miles, if so much, to the cottage, it seemed as if they wouldnever get there.

  Then, although the weather had been fine, there came on a hailstormwhich nearly blinded them, and, notwithstanding that Finn had been bornin the parish and the others knew it well, they actually lost theirway, and found themselves close to Kingsnorth Church, which everybodyknows to be in quite an opposite direction. They hastily retraced theirsteps, but then it suddenly became dark. Finn and the farmer both hadtheir hats plucked off their heads by invisible hands, and althoughWorrell was untouched (it being well-known that no witch dare lay handson a Smeeth man) yet he felt far from comfortable. Determined, however,to do their duty, the men made another attempt, and going round towardsAldington, were about to try and approach that side, when, all darknesshaving cleared away, they saw at a distance a light in the sky whichbetokened a fire, and from the direction, it appeared to be burningsomewhere very near to Farmer Long's house. This put out of his headaltogether the business upon which he was out, and he immediatelyretraced his steps as fast as possible, accompanied by the constables.When he got near home the flames seemed to have died away, but a heavysmoke hung over the place, and as he approached still nearer a sadsight indeed met his eyes. His stables were utterly burned to theground, and three valuable horses destroyed, despite every effort tosave them. Farmer Long rushed hastily to the spot, but all he found washis poor half-witted son sitting calmly on the grass contemplating thesmouldering embers with a vacant expression of countenance.

  "What has happened, Stephen lad? Where's Tom? How did all this begin?Who has done it?" were the eager questions of the excited man; but toall of them the youth replied with the stolid indifference of idiocy,"Steenie not know."

  Subsequent inquiries proved that two (as usual) of the crones had beenseen in the vicinity of the farm that day. As a public road ran verynear, this may perhaps be deemed by some to have been slight andinconclusive evidence of their guilt; but it was universally acceptedat the time as beyond all doubt connecting them with the affair.

  Some few there were who insinuated that the idiot boy had set thestables on fire for amusement, unconscious of the mischief he wasdoing; but these of course were some of those foolish and obstinatepeople who always like to differ from the rest of the world, and putforward their own views against those of everybody else. Of course itwas the Mersham crones who had done the thing, else why should it haveoccurred at the very time when Farmer Long was engaged on anexpedition, the object of which was to search their cottage? At allevents, so entirely convinced upon the subject was the wholeneighbourhood, that it was resolved that the matter could not restthere, but must be taken up seriously.

  The question was, how to do it? Inquiry before the magistrates appeareduseless, for if two constables, and one of them a Smeeth man, too,could not even approach the crones' dwelling, of what avail was it toinvoke the authority of the law? The church might be tried, but therector of Mersham was known to have steadily set his face against anybelief in witches, and it was more than probable that no otherclergyman would like to interfere in his parish without his knowledgeand consent.

  Long consultations were held, and wise heads laid together about thebusiness, and at last it was determined to rouse the honest people ofthe neighbourhood round, most of whom had suffered more or less fromthe pilfering habits of the crones, and, covered with as many charmsand magic tokens as they could obtain from old Goody Flaskett and oneor two other wise women who lived near the place, to advance in greatnumbers against the enemy, in order to try what ducking in a horsepondwould do for them. So on one fine afternoon, a great concourse ofpeople, meeting in several parties, bore down from different quartersupon the cottage of the crones.

  It was a mellow day in autumn, and hopping was just over at the timewhen this proceeding took place. John Gower had come home that day todinner, and a memorable day it was in his family. Mary, Jane, and Billywere all at home and they had just sat down to their homely meal when alow, hurried knocking was heard at the door. At this very moment it sohappened that the horse-shoe which was usually nailed over that doorhad fallen down, owing to one of the nails which supported it havinggiven way, and consequently it lay on the grass near the door insteadof hanging in its usual place. Farmer Barrett was always particular inmentioning this circumstance, else, he said, people might think that ahorseshoe is not a real protection against witches, whereas it is thebest and surest safeguard, only it must be nailed up against a wall orover a door. John bade his son open the door, and as soon as he had
done so, they perceived a good-looking young woman leading two others,apparently older than herself, but perfectly blind, whilst on her armeach carried a basket. They were quite strangers to John and hisfamily, and appeared to have walked some way.

  "Might we ask to rest awhile in your cottage, good friend?" asked theyoung woman. "I and my two blind sisters have walked all the way fromAshford to-day, and are bound to Romney."

  "Sartainly, ma'am," said John in reply. "But surely this be a long walkfor such as ye?"

  "Ah!" replied the other, "we should have thought so once, but a cruellandlord has turned us out of our house, these poor afflicted creaturesand me, and having relations at Romney we are going there in the onlyway the poor can travel--on our feet, and we have nothing with us butour tame rabbits, poor creatures, which we always carry in our baskets.We should be very thankful if we might come in for a couple of hours orso."

  "By all means," said worthy John, whose simple heart was at oncetouched by this tale. "Come in, come in by all means," and steppingforward, he helped one of the blind girls over the threshold and theyall entered the cottage.

  The moment they were inside, Mary's favourite cat, who had been seatedby the fireside, intently watching the proceeding, jumped up and sprangthrough the open window without saying a word to anybody, which indeed,as a respectable but ordinary cat, she was not likely to have doneunder any circumstances. Mary observed this, and wondered at the animalbeing so shy of strangers; but nobody made any remark upon theincident, and seats being found for the new comers, they not only satdown, but condescended to share the family dinner, and that with suchappetites, that the children of the house themselves came off butsecond best. John Gower asked several questions which weresatisfactorily answered, but he always said afterwards that he neverfelt quite at home with his visitors, which he put down to their beingbetter educated and of a position apparently somewhat above his own. Asthey sat and ate and talked, a distant shout was heard, and thenanother.

  "Father, what's that?" asked Billy.

  "Oh!" replied Gower, "I expect it's the people out after the crones. Iforgot all about it, not being a busy man in such matters, or I oughtto have helped my neighbours, perhaps, for those old women are nobetter than they should be--ah! oh! oh, dear!" and whilst the wordswere still in his mouth, John Gower jumped up and began to hop aboutthe room upon one leg, having been suddenly seized, he said, with aviolent fit of cramp therein.

  "What are they going to do with the crones, father?" asked Billy.

  "Duck 'em, I expect, boy," replied he; upon which the lad rejoined,--

  "Oh, what fun! how I should like to see it!" and almost immediatelyafterwards burst out crying, saying that he had such a bad pain come inhis inside.

  Meanwhile more shouting was heard, and not very far off, and presentlythe door was thrown open, and in came a neighbour, James Firminger byname, and a noted enemy to witches, besides being so worthy andwell-thought-of a man that he had more than once been spoken of as fitto be parish churchwarden.

  "Neighbour Gower!" he shouted, as he came in, "why ar't not out withthe rest of us after the crones? 'Twill be a grand day for Mersham ifwe get quit of them. But you've got company, I see--bless us, what asmell of sulphur!"

  As he spoke, he turned his eyes on the young woman and her two blindcompanions, and started as he did so. Firminger never went aboutwithout some potent witch-charm upon him, which at once protected himfrom the malice of such creatures, and enabled him to detect them whendisguised, and upon this occasion he had nothing less than a relic ofthe great Kentish saint, Thomas a Becket, being a small piece of thehair-shirt of that holy man, cut off shortly after his death by one ofthe monks of Canterbury, who happened to be a Firminger, andreligiously preserved in the Firminger family ever afterwards.

  Naturally, as Farmer Barrett observed, no witch could stand against_that_, and Firminger was a lucky man to possess it. It was doubtlessin consequence, and by virtue of this relic, that as soon as the goodman was well inside the cottage, he not only smelt the sulphur whichhad not been smelt by the family, but saw what was the real characterof John Gower's visitors. He took no second look, but shouted aloud,"The crones! the crones!" and seizing the little case in which was hisrelic in his hands, displayed it openly before them.

  The effect was instantaneous. All beauty disappeared from the face ofthe young woman, her form changed, her countenance shrivelled, and shestood confessed before the party as Humpy, the youngest of the threeCrones of Mersham.

  No less sudden and complete was the alteration in her two companions,who recovered their sight at once, but together therewith resumed theunpleasant forms and features of Skinny and Bony, the two other sistersof this disreputable family. There was a visible agitation at the samemoment in the baskets which the sisters had carried upon their arms,and which they had deposited on the floor upon taking their seats.

  The lids shook, the baskets quivered, and in another instantoverturned, when out sprang three enormous black cats upon the floor ofthe room.

  With a yell, which seemed to burst simultaneously from the throats ofall the crones and all the cats, they rushed out at the door; flyingfrom the charm which James Firminger kept earnestly shaking beforetheir eyes. Out of the door, over the green space in front of thecottage, into the road, and as far and fast as they could get away fromthe object of their terror.

  John Gower and his children sat stupified with mingled surprise and awefor some seconds; and then, jumping from their seats, they all rushedthrough the door after Firminger; who, having done so, stood stilloutside, eagerly gazing after the retreating crones. He knew wellenough that, if nought had prevented them, the honest people who wereout after the witches, would by this time have attacked and harriedtheir home. Whither, then, would they fly?

  If they had quitted their cottage ignorant of the coming of theirenemies, and only bent on paying John Gower a visit--doubtlessintending to do him some mischief or other; it might be that they wouldhurry home, and encounter the angry mob of people, in which case therewould be wild work one way or the other. If, however, as was moreprobable (and as was generally believed to be the case when the matterwas considered afterwards), the three crones had been well aware of theprojected attack upon them, and had purposely left home--hoping thatthey might lie safely hid in the abode of so honest and quiet a man asGower until the danger was over, then it became a serious question asto what other refuge they would seek, now that they had been somanfully driven from their intended place of safety. The doubts of thelookers-on, however, were soon solved.

  A strange thing happened, which would never have been believed inthose days, but that Firminger and Gower both solemnly declared it,and which perhaps actually will _not_ be believed in these days ofdoubt and want of faith, but which I must nevertheless relate asFarmer Barrett told it to me. As soon as they were well on the otherside of the road, each crone jumped upon her cat, and the animals,lightly springing over the hedge into the next field, set off fullgallop in an easterly direction--or, in other words, heading asstraight as a line to Aldington Knoll, well-known in those good olddays as the great fortress of witches. That was their point, no doubt,and it looked very much as if they were going to give up Mersham as abad job, and betake themselves to other and safer quarters.

  As soon as Firminger saw the line which the crones took, he turned toGower and said in a hasty tone, "Come on, mate, this must be seen to atonce. Let us join the chaps who are gone to the old cottage as fast aswe can, and tell them what we have seen, and all that has happened."

  John Gower was too wise a man to hesitate. Had he done so, he knew wellenough that he would be suspected of having knowingly harboured thecrones, and of being in league with them, a suspicion which would haveruined him for ever in his native parish, and probably driven him fromthe county.

  So he bade Mary mind the house, and keep Jane and Billy at home, andthen he set off at best pace with Firminger down the road in thedirection of the cottage of the crones. They very soon reached it
, andfound it surrounded by a number of people, who were engaged indemolishing the premises altogether. They had not found much, probablybecause there was not much to find; and the owners of the place, as weknow, had taken themselves off before the arrival of their unwelcomevisitors. But they broke everything they could find, tore down thethatched roof to search for magic charms, none of which they found, butonly a number of mice, and a great deal of dust. They pulled to piecesthe wooden part of the cottage, and knocked down a great part of thestone corner, counting everything as fair game, as witches' property,and striving their utmost to destroy as much as they possibly could.

  There were more than a couple of hundred people, all told, FarmerBarrett believed, and he gave me a great many names, but I forget mostof them. There was Bully Robus, of the "Farriers' Arms," I know, andlittle Dick Broadfoot, the tailor, of Mersham Street, and Bill Parsons,all the way from Warehorne Green. There were Gowers, and Farrances,Sillibournes and Swaflers, Swinerds and Finns--in short, not a familyin that or any of the other parishes which was not represented, andthey all seemed to vie with each other, which should do the mostmischief, and be foremost in pulling down and destroying that evilplace.

  It was several minutes before James Firminger and John Gower couldcommand the attention of people so eagerly occupied about theirbusiness as these witch-seekers, and it would have been still longer,but for the position and character of Firminger, and his known hatredof all that pertained to witchcraft. He presently succeeded in makingthem listen to the wonders he had to relate, and when they knew forcertain what had happened and the direction which the crones had taken,the whole current of their thoughts was turned into one eager desire tofollow, and, if possible, to make an end of the inmates of that awfulcottage as well as of the abode itself.

  They lost no time, therefore, in finishing the work on which they werethen engaged, and immediately afterwards the whole party swarmed up theroad in the direction of Aldington Knoll, keeping up each other'scourage by many brave words, and shouting uncomplimentary epithets withregard to the three crones. So they pushed on until they came to thespot where four roads met; one, that which our party had traversed inwalking from the cottage, another bearing back to Bilsington andRuckinge, a third to Newchurch and the Marsh, and the fourth toAldington Knoll.

  Down this last road the people turned, and then, immediately beforethem they had the mass of wood upon the side of the hill, which then,as now, encompassed the knoll itself upon the north, west, and south,the ground to the east being somewhat less woody. The knoll--apparentlya grass hill, only that the grass being a good deal worn away, showedthe bare rock at several places--peered over the woods, and the road toit lay right through the latter for some distance, until by turninginto a gate upon your right hand, you entered the field out of whichthe knoll rose, and from the higher points of which were magnificentviews over the Marsh and all the country east, west, and south, thehills behind shutting out the view to the north.

  The people were now some three-quarters of a mile from this gate, and,if the truth could be known, I have no doubt whatever that some of themwould very gladly have been a great deal further off.

  The power of the crones themselves was so well known, and thereputation of Aldington Knoll was so bad, that no one felt sure thatsome terrible misfortune might not result from braving the one andattacking the other.

  They had all heard strange tales of people bewitched, changed intoanimals, losing their senses, and all kinds of other disagreeablethings, and of course such tales _would_ recur to them at such amoment. But there were brave hearts--then as now--among the men ofKent, and although fears and doubts may have been there, they did notoperate so as to turn any man back from the work he had undertaken. Thepeople moved down the road towards Aldington, and reached the point atwhich the woods began. At that moment a loud clap of thunder pealedthrough the air, and vivid lightning flashed across the sky.

  A shudder passed through many a stout frame, but the men pushed boldlyon. Then came a severe hailstorm--so severe that the people tookshelter beneath the trees, and waited until its violence seemed to bepassed.

  But none turned back. Then came a bitter, chilling wind, though it hadbeen a lovely, soft, mellow day: the wind cut through the trees with amoaning sound, and pierced the people like a mid-winter blast.

  Still they pressed on, knowing that witchcraft was at work, and thatretreat would be ruin. They were half-way between the point at whichthe road entered the woods and the gate before mentioned, when a loudand terrible roaring was heard upon the right, from the woods whichstretched up close to the knoll itself. So strange and so dreadful wasthis sound, that it made the blood of those who heard it run cold, andfor a moment the foremost men of the throng paused.

  But three men there were in that crowd who neither quailed nor pausedfor a moment, so resolutely determined were they to carry out the workthey had commenced that day. These men were James Firminger, FarmerLong, and old David Finn, the parish clerk of Mersham. The last namedknew but little of crones or witches, but tradition said that therealways must be a Finn for parish clerk, and that Mersham would not beMersham without one. This being the case, the old man felt it to be hisduty to take such prominent part in an affair like the present asbecame one of an ancient family, filling an hereditary office.

  Therefore, although he knew that the rector would most likely havedisapproved of the step he was taking, he had started early that day,and in company with Bully Robus and sundry other notables of theparish, had taken an active part in the proceedings from the beginning.

  These three men, then, were not deterred by the roaring, though it muchresembled that of wild and savage beasts desiring their prey, andseeing it before their eyes. And when no beasts appeared, and it seemedto be nothing but sound, the rest of the people regained their courage,and all continued to push on towards the gate into the knoll-field.About a hundred yards before they reached it, however, they found thatthey had to encounter an unexpected obstacle in the shape of severalenormous elms which lay stretched across the road in such a manner asto most effectually bar any further progress.

  But to the astonishment of all, no sooner had Firminger, Long, and Finn(who were now recognised as the leaders of the expedition) approachedclose to the barrier, than it vanished as suddenly as it had appeared,and left the roadway free.

  Encouraged by this result, as unexpected as it was satisfactory, theparty advanced a few yards farther, to find a great ditch yawning infront of them, and evidently intended to stop their farther advance. Onseeing this, Finn rushed to the front, and standing close to the edgeof the abyss, pronounced in a loud voice the word "Amen," which he hadlong held to be the most sacred and powerful form of invocation knownto the world, and one which never failed to repel any evil creature towhom it was addressed.

  Whether from the effects of his utterance, or from any other reason, Icannot say, but certain it is that as the worthy clerk put one legforward as if to step into the ditch, it closed up as if it had neverbeen dug, which perhaps was the case. At all events, whether it was areal ditch or only a delusion of the eye, the chasm disappearedaltogether, and once more the party proceeded, until they reached thegate of the field, and faced it, about to enter and approach the knoll,which now lay upon their right, the field in which it was situatestretching back into the woods.

  On entering the gate, they were at once struck by the novel and curiousappearance of the knoll. Smoke appeared to envelope it on all sides,and a deep rumbling proceeded from within it, as if a volcano were atwork, and a volcano that meant mischief too. The party paused for amoment, looked at each other and then at the knoll, and began to wonderwhat they had better do next. Everybody thought that everybody else wasstopping quite unnecessarily, but nobody seemed inclined to move onfirst.

  Even the three bold men, Firminger, Long, and Finn, seemed less eagerthan hitherto, and whispered to each other in low, mysterious tones,that they fancied they saw dark and fearful figures moving about amongthe smoke in which the kn
oll was enveloped. It was well known to thesemen, and indeed to most or all of their companions, that Aldingtonknoll was reputed to be the abode and principal gathering-place of allthe evil creatures in that part of the country.

  By common consent men had for a long time past shunned it as a hauntedand wicked spot, and it was no common evidence of courage that so manymen had been found to approach it upon this occasion. After a fewmoments, the three men recollected the responsibility of theirposition, and the absolute certainty that if their party returned homedefeated, the neighbourhood would thenceforward be worse off than ever.The crones would never forget the plunder and destruction of theircottage, and would doubtless exact a severe compensation from theperpetrators of that ruthless deed.

  Moreover, for a couple of hundred people to have it said that they hadbeen circumvented and beaten by three old women, was a thing not to bethought of; so, shame overcoming their reluctance, they boldly marchedforward again, and encouraged their followers to charge up to the veryfoot of the knoll. They had got quite close to it when, either byaccident, or because he pulled it too hard in his nervous fidgetingwith it, the string by which James Firminger's relic was tied round hisneck suddenly broke, and the charm itself fell to the ground.

  Hardly had this occurred, when a yell, most discordant in its tone, butappearing to express a mingled feeling of joy, triumph, fury andrevengeful longing all in one, broke from the interior of the mount.The next instant the knoll itself opened wide, just like the mouth of aman preparing for a tremendous yawn, and a whole volley of cinders andashes came bursting over the approaching party in a most disconcertingand unpleasant manner. At the same time strange and uncouth figuressuddenly appeared issuing from the knoll, some with goat's heads andhorns, others with the bodies of men but a pig's head, snout andbristles, others like monkeys (but oh! such frightful monkeys as neverwere seen) and all with eyes that rolled fearfully in their heads andglittered like fire. Conspicuous among this awful band appeared thefigures of the three crones, Bony, Skinny, and Humpy, each carrying abroomstick in her hand, and followed by her cat, which bounded forwardas if to attack the invaders of the haunted hill. This was more thanthe latter could stand--they wavered--looked round--tottered a step ortwo backward, and then, as the cinders, hot cinders too, came upon themand the evil creatures almost touched them, they turned round with oneaccord, and fled down from the knoll as fast as their legs would carrythem. Farmer Long was the first of the three leaders who gave way, forhe afterwards declared that he recognized the lost kitten in a catwhich seemed to select him as her particular object of attack, and ashe ran, he vowed that he felt a scratch which penetrated, sharp anddeep, in such a manner that he could not sit down comfortably for afortnight, and felt perfectly sure that only the claws of that kittencould or would have dealt him such a wound. As for Finn, he so lost hishead, that he ran off, bawling out "Amen" continuously at the top ofhis voice, but in a tone which conveyed so little of the realimportance and dignity attaching to the word, that it is little wonderthat it had no effect.

  James Firminger--as became a man of his character and position--stoodhis ground longest, but his charm being gone, he felt less confidence,and when he, too, turned and ran, he felt himself belaboured by aninvisible stick all the way down to the gate of the field.

  Shouts, shrieks and yells of laughter, followed the retreating party,and there was scarcely a man in whose breast, amid all his fears, thethought did not arise that the result of this day's work had turned outto be one so utterly unfortunate for the people, and so triumphant forthe crones, that the neighbourhood would have to submit to bewitch-ridden for ever after.

  But, sometimes, in human affairs, whether those of an individual or acommunity, at the very moment when things seem to be at their worst,they begin to mend, and that amendment is not unfrequently broughtabout by some agent which, to the wise and knowing of mankind, wouldhave appeared the most insignificant and the most unlikely to haveeffected the change. So it was in the present instance. The affrightedpeople came rushing through the gate, and, avoiding the road throughthe wood, which was their natural way home, turned in an easterlydirection, and ran up the road leading away from the woods, and intothe main road leading from Aldington Corner to Hythe. They had run buta very short distance when they came upon the "innocent," simpleSteenie Long, sitting on the bank of the road side, apparently lookingfor flowers. He looked up with a vacant expression upon his face (whichI am told was not unusual with idiots in those days) and seemedastonished to see so many people all running in such a hurry.

  Several of the party hurried past the boy, too much occupied aboutproviding for their own safety to think either of him or of anybodyelse. Presently, however, Farmer Long came running by, already somewhatout of breath, and burning with rage and shame at having been unable toresist the impulse which had made him fly before the power of the evilcreatures of the knoll. When he came to the place where his son wassitting, he stopped short in his flight, and seizing the boy by thearm, hastily exclaimed, "Come along, lad, come along; this is no placefor the likes of you!" endeavouring at the same time to hurry the youthaway with him.

  But "Simple Steenie" was by no means of the same opinion. He drewhimself away from his father's hold, opened his large blue eyes totheir fullest extent, and observed in a calm but very decided tone."Steenie not."

  "Not _what_, boy?" said the farmer eagerly. "You'd better not stophere, anyhow; leastways if you do, the witches will have you." But theboy, who had by this time risen to his feet, only smiled pleasantlyupon his father, with the simple smile of the weak of intellect, andanswered in a gentle tone. "Steenie not 'fraid. People run. Steenie notrun."

  At this moment up came James Firminger, already bitterly repenting theflight which seemed certain to lead to such disastrous consequences.Overhearing the words of the boy, the thought instantly struck him thatthey might be turned to good account.

  Well did stout Firminger know that whatever be the power of witches andwarlocks, it has no effect upon those whom Heaven has deprived of theirfull share of reason and intellect, and it occurred to him (and perhapsit was true) that this unexpected meeting with "Simple Steenie" was notaccidental, but that it was possibly so ordered, that the victory ofthe evil ones might be prevented.

  He stopped instantly, and shouted aloud to the rest of the party."Mates!" he cried. "Are we not shamed by the words of this innocent?_He_ will not run, he--why then should _we_ do so? The power whichprotects _him_ can protect _us_. Let us turn once more, and never giveway like this to the evil ones."

  The words of Firminger produced a great effect upon those who heardhim. Some indeed there were who had already made their way so far thatthey neither saw nor heard anything that followed, but fully two-thirdsof the party checked their flight, and waited to see what would follow.

  They were much reassured by that which immediately occurred. JamesFirminger went up to the boy and spoke to him kindly to the followingeffect. "Steenie boy, that's right! _You_ won't run, will you, lad?_You_ ban't afraid of no witches nor crones neither, be you?"

  Thus addressed, Steenie drew himself up to his full height, smiled uponhis questioner as he had upon his father, and said very gravely. "No.Steenie not 'fraid. Good people help Steenie."

  As this was immediately interpreted by all who heard him to mean thatthe half-witted lad was assured of supernatural assistance in anyencounter which might ensue, it had a wonderfully comforting effectupon the whole party.

  The courage which, in the case of most of them, had been "oozing out attheir fingers' ends," suddenly and miraculously returned to its naturalhome in their hearts, and they began to encourage each other by speechand gesture, and to ask what there was to be afraid of.

  Seeing his opportunity, Firminger used all his arts of persuasion, andthe result was that those of the party who had not got beyond hearingwhen the above mentioned incident took place, wheeled boldly and bodilyround, and retraced their steps towards the knoll-field, Firminger andLong leading the way, prece
ded by "Simple Steenie," who declined towalk with any of them, but trotted on ahead. As for Finn, he haddisappeared and was no more seen that day, having been so completelyovercome by the total failure of the great invocation to which he hadpinned his faith, that he was incapable of further action for the time,and was indeed never quite the same man afterwards.

  When the party got near the gate, there was no sign of anythingunusual, but as soon as they set foot within the field, the sameroaring arose which they had heard before, and the same smoke began topuff out from the knoll and to enwrap it once more in dark wreaths. Atthis moment Firminger, Long, and their followers suddenly started withsurprise.

  "Simple Steenie" was indeed walking before them, having left thetrotting pace at which he had started, but he was no longer alone! Ashort, thick-set man, clad entirely in gray from head to foot, wasleading the boy by the hand as they advanced together. In his hand heheld a long staff, but otherwise appeared to be entirely unarmed.Whence he had sprung from no one could tell; they had not seen any oftheir own party rush forward, and certainly no one had descended fromthe knoll. However, there was the Gray Man, sure enough, and on hemarched by "Simple Steenie's" side, as if they were the best friends inthe world, and had long ago arranged the enterprise on which they werejointly bound. The others followed at a respectful distance, more andmore astonished as matters went on.

  The roaring continued and presently the same process was repeated asthat which the people had previously witnessed and undergone. Figuresmoved rapidly amid the thick smoke, and ever and anon a lurid flameflashed from one side of the knoll to the other, affording a momentaryglimpse of awful forms with threatening gestures directed towards thosewho appeared desirous to invade their territory.

  Still "Simple Steenie" and his companion walked calmly on until theywere within a very short distance of the knoll, when, as before, itopened, and a volume of cinders and ashes was again poured forth. But,at the same instant, the Gray Man raised his staff high above his headand shook it in the air. Suddenly, without a cloud in the sky or anyappearance whatever of rain, a perfect torrent of water descended fromthe heavens upon the knoll, the effect of which was to produce justsuch a "fiz" as when you throw a tumbler of water upon the fire, onlythis sound was as if several hundred thousand tumblers had been thrownupon the same number of fires all at once, producing the loudest andmost wonderful "fiz" that you can imagine. At the same moment aprolonged and terrible howl arose from inside the hill, as if theeffects of the water had caused great discomfort therein.

  Next happened a remarkable incident. The mouth of the knoll opened withthe same kind of yawning action as has been already described, as ifthe same onslaught as before was about to be repeated. But instead ofwaiting for this, "Steenie" and the "Gray Man" both raised a loudshout, the latter brandished his staff once more over his head, andboth of them rushed boldly forward into the mound, which immediatelyclosed behind them. The bystanders were struck with horror andamazement.

  Was the Gray Man in league with the enemy, and had he thus lured poorSteenie to his destruction? If so--why and whence the torrent of water,which had evidently not been relished by the inhabitants of the knoll?What on earth did it all mean?

  For a few moments the whole party stood fearful and irresolute. Soon itbecame evident that warm work was going on inside the knoll. Shouts,yells, rumblings, howls, and the most discordant noises were heardwithin, whilst there were those among the people, and notably JamesFirminger and Bully Robus, who always declared that they heard, in andabove the outcry, the word, "Dunstan! Dunstan!" repeated ever and anon,and the same thought crossed the minds of both of them at the sametime, namely, that the appearance of the Gray Man greatly resembled thedescription of the great Saint Dunstan, so famous for the manner inwhich he tackled the arch-enemy upon one occasion with a pair of tongs,and whose name was said to be especially dreaded by all evil creatures.

  Be this as it may, the noise had not continued above a minute or two,before the spirit of James Firminger became too much excited to allowof his remaining quiet any longer.

  Calling to his companions to come on and help poor Steenie, he rushedboldly forward, and was followed by most of the others. But they werestill several yards away from the scene of action, when they werestopped by an occurrence so extraordinary that no one who witnessed itran the smallest chance of ever forgetting it.

  The knoll burst open in at least twenty different places, and from itthere issued the same sort of creatures as those who had previouslyattacked and routed the Mersham forces. But their aspect was now ascompletely changed as their behaviour. Cowering, shrieking, huddlingtogether as if to escape some terrible pursuer, they rushed franticallyaway on all sides, with heart-rending cries of despair and anguish.

  Then, in the very middle of the knoll, rushing after the retreatingfoe, appeared no less a personage than the Gray Man, flourishing hisstaff, and closely followed by "Simple Steenie," whose features wereglowing with excitement, and whom they distinctly saw in the act ofadministering a violent kick to a repulsive-looking creature with aserpent's head and man's body, who was beyond all question an evil oneof the worst description, but whose departure was much quickened by theaction of the "innocent."

  As everybody among the lookers-on was greatly confused and alarmed atthe extraordinary spectacle suddenly presented to their view, onehardly knows how far it would be safe to rely upon the many differentaccounts which were afterwards given of the details of the transactionof which I am writing, and good Farmer Barrett always used to warn meagainst believing as gospel every particular of this part of the story.

  However, there were many worthy people out upon this day who declaredsolemnly that among the strange and horrible creatures who were turnedout of Aldington Knoll that day, they recognised the faces and featuresof several of their neighbours, dead and gone, who had been reputedwitches in their life-times. And little Dick Broadfoot, the tailor ofMersham Street, an acute man as well as an honest, and one that wouldnot willingly either lie or exaggerate, always took his bible oath thathe saw, as plainly as he ever saw anything in his life, three awfulcreatures, with cats' heads and bodies, but with horns and wings, andwith claws longer than any possessed by mortal cat, fly out of themount and down the woods, each having fast hold of and carrying with ita form which writhed and struggled as if in fearful agony, but writhedand struggled in vain. And furthermore, Dick avowed that he saw--thoughhow he had time to see it I don't know--he saw, I say, and knew it fora certain fact, that these three unhappy wretches were the three cronesof Mersham, doubtless being carried off to their own place by the threeevil ones who had hitherto served them under the form of cats.

  Whether to believe the little tailor or not I hardly know, but BullyRobus backed him up in the story, and as the three crones never againappeared in that part of the world, it may have been quite true.

  Certain it is that all those creatures who issued from the knoll in theway I have described were evidently driven out against their will,utterly defeated and brought to tribulation by a superior power. In avery short time they had utterly disappeared, a strong smell of sulphurbeing the only remaining token that they had ever been there, whilstupon the knoll, which had closed up behind them, "Simple Steenie" andhis companion remained, standing alone in triumph.

  The people saw the Gray Man lay his hand upon the lad's head for aninstant, as if calling down a blessing upon him; then there came a mistor cloud over the knoll, and when they looked again, Steenie wasstanding alone. They hurried towards him, instinctively knowing thatthere was no more danger to be apprehended from the place, and heturned smilingly to meet them with an air of triumph.

  "Steenie not 'fraid," he said. "Naughty people run 'way! All gone!"

  SIMPLE STEENIE AND THE GRAY MAN ON THE KNOLL--P. 344]

  But to all their questions about his late companion he could onlyanswer by a vacant smile and incoherent words, which left them asignorant as before. They had, however, the great consolation of knowingthat, whether it had
come about by the aid of "Simple Steenie's"innocent efforts, or whether the Gray Man had of his own accord plannedthe whole affair, and arranged for the discomfiture of the wicked ones,that discomfiture was certain and complete.

  From that day forth Aldington Knoll has been a peaceful quiet spot,from whence the views to which I have already alluded may becontemplated without any fear of interference by any unpleasant inmatesof the mound, for there are none worse than rabbits now. More might betold about some of the characters of our story, but short and casualallusions are not desirable, and to do more would be to lengthen thestory too much. So I will leave my readers to fancy for themselves allthat happened afterwards to John Gower and his family, as well as toFarmer Long, Simple Steenie, and all the rest of them. It is a goodmany years ago now since these things occurred, and the actors in thestirring scenes which I have related have long since passed away.

  If I had not chronicled them now, from my recollection of good oldFarmer Barrett's gossips, I dare say Jack Barrett--who is a carelessfellow at best, and not equal to his father--(young men seldom are inthese days, according to my opinion) would have told the storydifferently, and only in fragments, to his children, and they wouldhave varied it again in telling it to _their_ children, so that ina couple of generations it would have been quite uncertain, and thereal truth never would have been known.

  This is why I have thought it right to tell it. I drove down in mypony-carriage the other day, with a young lady by my side, to see thevery spot where the crones' cottage used to stand, and to go throughall the places where these scenes occurred. I could make them all outpretty clearly, though there is no vestige of the cottage left. Wedrove on to Bilsington and back towards Aldington by the same road thatMrs. Long and Tom the Bailiff drove, when they were taking the kittenback to the Gowers.

  We did not see any witches for certain, and perhaps there are noneleft, though, as it is a good way from a railroad, I am not very sureon this point. In a secluded spot by one of the woods, there was thefigure of a man seated by the side of the road breaking stones, and Ithought there was something in his look more than common. It was on ahill, up which I was walking, and if I had been alone I might havestopped and tried to find out more. But as I did not want to run theleast chance of the young lady with me being frightened, I only tookcare to walk on the side of the road between the pony-carriage and thefigure, and as we passed it I laid my right hand on my heart, andpronounced that famous mystic word of power---- Oh! I forgot, I mustnot write it, because that is forbidden, but if any little girl wantsto know (boys are never curious, of course, so they won't mind notbeing told) she must just write me a pretty little letter and ask, andas I am very easily coaxed, I shall very likely either come and tellher, or make some arrangement by which she shall be able to find outfor herself. It answered very well that day (as, indeed, it alwaysdoes) and we got home quite safe. Home is the best place at which toleave one's friends, and therefore, having brought myself there in mywriting, I think I will stop, and only hope that others beside myselfwill be interested in hearing the famous legend of the "Crones ofMersham."

  BRADBURY, AGNEW, & CO., PRINTERS, WHITEFRIARS.

  * * * * * *

  Transcriber's note:

  Minor typographical errors have been corrected without note.

  Irregularities and inconsistencies in the text have been retainedas printed.

 

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