 Book 2, Chapter 3 of The Lancashire Witches. The Lancashire Witches, a romance of Pendle Forest, by William Harrison Ainsworth. Book 2, Pendle Forest. Chapter 3, The Bogot's Glen. The manner of reed, it has been said, was skirted by a deep woody ravine of three or four miles in length, extending from the little village of Sabton in Pendle Forest to within a short distance of Whaley, and through this gully flowed a stream which, taking its rise near barley at the foot of Pendle Hill, added its waters to those of the Calder at a place called Cock Bridge. In summer or in dry seasons, this stream proceeded quietly enough and left the greater part of its stony bed unoccupied. But in winter, or after continuous rains, it assumed all the character of a mountain torrent and swept everything before it. A narrow bridal road led through the ravine to Sabton, and along it, after quitting the park, the cavalcade proceeded, headed by Nicholas. The little river danced merrily past them, singing as it went, the sunshine sparkling on its bright clear waters, and glittering on the pebbles beneath them. Now the stream would chafe and foam against some larger impediment to its course. Now it would dash down some rocky heights and form a beautiful cascade. Then it would hurry on for some time, with little interruption, till, stayed by a projecting bank, it would form a small deep basin, where, beneath the far-cast shadow of an overhanging oak, or under its huge twisted and denuded roots, the angler might be sure of finding the speckled trout, the dainty grayling, or their mutual enemy, the voracious jack. The ravine was well wooded throughout, and in many parts singularly beautiful, from the disposition of the timber on its bank, as well as from the varied form and character of the trees. Here might be seen an aclivity covered with waving birch, or a top crowned with a mountain ash. There, on a smooth expanse of green sward, stood a range of noble elms, whose mighty arms stretched completely across the ravine. Thereon there were chestnut and walnut trees, willows with hoary stems and silver leaves, almost encroaching upon the stream, larches upon the heights, and here and there, upon some sandy eminence, a spreading beach-tree. For the most part the bottom of the glen was overgrown with brushwood, and where its sides were too abrupt to admit the growth of larger trees, they were matted with woodbine and brambles. Out of these would sometimes start a sharp pinnacle, or fantastically formed crag, adding greatly to the picturesque beauty of the scene. On such points were not unfrequently found perched a hawk, a falcon, or some large bird of prey, for the gully, with its brakes and thickets, was a favourite horn to the feathered tribe. The hollies, of which there were plenty with their green prickly leaves and scarlet berries, afforded shelter and support to the blackbird. The thorns were frequented by the thrush, and numberless lesser songsters filled every other tree. In the cover there were pheasants and partridges in abundance, and snipe and wildfowl resorted to the river in winter. Dither also, at all seasons, repaired the stately heron to devour the finny-race, and dither came, unlike heron, the splendidly plumed kingfisher. The magpie chattered, the jays screamed, and flew deeper into the woods as the horsemen approached, and the shy Bitten hid herself amid the rushes. The two was heard the deep ominous croaking of a raven. Hitherto the glen had been remarkable for its softness and beauty, but it now began to assume a savage and somber character. The banks drew closer together and became rugged and precipitous, while the trees met overhead, and intermingling their branches, formed a canopy impervious to the sun's rays. The stream was likewise contracted, and its current, which, owing to the gloom, looked black as ink, flowed swiftly on, as if anxious to escape to livelier scenes. A large raven, which had attended the horsemen all the way, now alighted near them, and croaked ominously. This part of the glen was in very ill repute, and was never traversed even at noonday without apprehension. Its wild and savage aspect, its horrent precipices, its shaggy woods, its strangely shaped rocks, and tenorous depths, where every imperfectly seen object appeared doubly frightful. All combined to invest it with mystery and terror. No one willingly lingered here, but hurried on, afraid of the sound of his own footsteps. No one dared to gaze at the rocks, lest he should see some hideous hobgoblin peering out of their fissures. No one glanced at the water, for fear some terrible kelpie, with twining snakes for hair and scaly hide, should issue from it and drag him down, to devour him with his shock-like teeth. Among the common folk, this part of the ravine was known as The Bogot's Glen, and was supposed to be haunted by mischievous beings who made the unfortunate wanderer their sport. For the last half-mile the road had been so narrow and intricate in its windings that the party were obliged to proceed singly, but this did not prevent conversation, and Nicholas, throwing the bridle over Robin's neck, left the sure-footed animal to pursue his course unguided, while he himself leaning back, chatted with Roger Knowle. At the entrance of the gloomy gorge above described, Robin came to a stand, and, refusing to move at a jerk from his master, the latter raised himself and looked forward to see what could be the cause of the stoppage. No impediment was visible, but the animal obstinately refused to go on, though urged both by word and spur. This stoppage necessarily delayed the rest of the cavalcade. While aware of the ill reputation of the place, when Simon's sparshot and the grooms found that Robin would not go on, they declared that he must see The Bogot, and urged the squire to turn back or some mischief would befall him. But Nicholas, though not without misgivings, did not like to yield thus, especially when urged on by Roger Knowle. Indeed, the party could not get out of the ravine without going back nearly a mile, while Sabden was only half that distance from them. What was to be done? Simon still continued obstinately, and for the first time paid no attention to his master's commands. The poor animal was evidently a prey to violent terror, and snorted and reared, while his limbs were bathed in cold sweat. Dismounting and leaving him in charge of Roger Knowle, Nicholas walked on by himself to see if he could discover any cause for the horse's alarm, and he had not advanced far when his eye rested upon a blasted oak, forming a conspicuous object on a crag before him, on a scathed branch of which sat the raven. Crock! Crock! Crock! A cursed bird it is thou who has frightened my horse! cried Nicholas. Would I had a crossbow or an archivist to stop that jolking? And as he picked up a stone to cast at the raven, a crashing noise was heard among the bushes high up on the rock, and the next moment a huge fragment dislodged from the cliff rolled down, and would have crushed him if he had not nimbly avoided it. Crock! Crock! Crock! Nicholas almost fancied horse laughter was mingled with the cries of the bird. The raven nodded its head and expanded its wings, and the squire, whose recent experience had prepared him for any wonder, fully expected to hear it speak, but it only croaked loudly and exultingly, for if it laughed the sound was like the creaking of rusty hinges. Nicholas did not like it at all, and he resolved to go back, but there he could do so. He was startled by a buffet on the ear, and turning angrily round to see who had dealt it, he could distinguish no one. But at the same moment received a second buffet on the other ear. The raven croaked merrily. Would I could ring thy neck, a cursed bird? cried the enraged squire. Scarcely was the vindictive wish uttered, than a shower of blows fell upon him, and kicks from unseen feet were applied to his person. All the while the raven croaked merrily and flapped his big black wings. Infuriated by the attack, the squire hit right and left manfully and dashed out his feet in every direction, but his blows and kicks only met the empty air, while those of his unseen antagonist told upon his own person with increased effect. The spectacles seemed to afford infinite amusement to the man, the mischievous bird almost crowed with glee. There was no standing it any longer, so amid a perfect hurricane of blows and kicks, and with the infernal voice of the raven ringing in his ears, the squire took to his heels. On reaching his companions he found they had not fared much better than himself. The two grooms were belaboring each other lustily, and Master Pot was exercising his hunting whip on the broad shoulders of Sparshot, who in return was making him acquainted with the taste of a stout ash-plant. Assailed in the same manner as the squire, and naturally attributing the attack to their nearest neighbours, they waited for no explanation, but fell upon each other. Richard Asherton and Roger Knowle endeavored to interfere and separate the combatants, and in doing so received some hard knocks for their pains, but all their pacific efforts were fruitless until the squire appeared, and telling them they were merely the sport of hobgoblins they desisted. But still the blows fell heavily on them as before, proving the truth of Nicholas's assertion. Meanwhile the squire had mounted Robin, and finding the horse no longer exhibit the same reluctance to proceed, he dashed at full speed through the haunted glen, but even above the clatter of hooves and the noise of the party galloping after him, he could hear the horse exulting croaking of the raven. As the gully expanded and the sun once more found its way through the trees and shone upon the river, Nicholas began to breathe more freely, but it was not until fairly out of the wood that he relaxed his speed. Not caring to enter into any explanation of the occurrence, he rode a little apart to avoid conversation, and as the others who were still smarting from the blows they had received were in no very good humour, a sullen silence prevailed throughout the party as they mounted the bare hillside in the direction of the few scattered huts constituting the village of Sabden. A blight seemed to have fallen upon the place. Modger Noll, who had visited it a few months ago, could scarcely believe his eyes, so changed was its appearance. His inquiries as to the cause of its altered condition were everywhere met by the same answer. The poor people were all bewitched. Here a child was ill of a strange sickness, tossed and tumbled in its bed, and contorted its limb so violently that its parents could scarcely hold it down. Another family was afflicted in a different manner, two of its number pining away and losing strength daily as if a prey to some consuming disease. In a third another child was sick, and vomited pins, nails, and other extraordinary substances. The fourth household was tormented by an imp in the form of a monkey who came at night and pinched them all black and blue. Spilt the milk, broke the dishes and platters, got under the bed, and, raising it to the roof, let it fall with a terrible crash, putting them all in mental terror. In the next cottage there was no end to calamities, though they took a more absurd form. Sometimes the fire would not burn, or when it did it emitted no heat, so that the pot would not boil, nor the meat roast. Then the oat-cakes would stick to the bake-stone, and no force would get them away from it till they were burned and burned. The milk turned sour, the cheese became so hard that not even rat's teeth could know it, the stools and settles broke down if sat upon, and the list of petty grievances was completed by a whole side of bacon being devoured in a single night. Roger Knowle and Nicholas listened patiently to a detail of all these grievances, and expressed strong sympathy for the sufferers, promising assistance and redress if possible. All the complainants taxed either Mother Demdike or Mother Chatex with afflicting them, and said they had incurred the anger of the two malevolent old witches by refusing to supply them with poultry, eggs, milk, butter, or other articles which they had demanded. Master Potts made ample notes of the strange relations, and took down the name of every cottager. At length they arrived at the last cottage, and here a man with a very doleful countenance besought them to stop and listen to his tale. What is the matter, friend? demanded Roger Knowle, halting with the others. Are you bewitched, like your neighbours? So I am your worship, replied the man, and I hope you may be able to deliver me. You must know that somehow I will be unlucky enough last year to offend Mother Chatex, never since has all gone wrong with me. A good wife can never make butter come, we are sticking a red-ot burger in to churn, and last week with our brindled saffarad, and fifteen to litter, and find ones as ever you'll seen, saying on them dead. Sad work, masters! The weaker four that cow died, and weaker four that old mare, so that all my stock be gone, or was me, was me, not prosperous with me. My poor damn is beside herself, and children seem possessed. I tried every remedy, but without success. I followed the old witch home, plucked on to the thatch from her roof, sprinkled it with salt and water, burned and buried this at the change at Moone, my youth, masters. Then again I got Norse-shoe, ate it red-ot, quenched it in brine, and nailed it, that threshold with three nails head-uppered, no more youth nor dother. Then I'd taken salt water and put it in a bottle with three rusty nails, needles and pins, but I haven't found that witch has suffered thereby, and lastly I let myself blood went moon-ruff at full, and in opposition to Dorag's planet, and mingling it with salt, I burnt it to your tribute to the orcs of a victim, but we out of veil for our seeded two days ago, and she flouted me and scoffed at me. What monard-do, God-masters, what monard-do! Have you revended any on besides Mother Chattox, my poor fellow? said Noel. Oh, Mother Demdike may be a worship, replied the man. You suspect Mother Demdike and Mother Chattox have bewitching you, said Potts, taking out his memorandum book and making a note in it. Your name, good fellow? Ubsrey, a well, sir, Ben, sir, Thomas, a sub, then, replied the man. Is that all? asked Potts. What more would you have, said Richard? The description is sufficiently particular. Scarcely precise enough, returned Potts, however, it may do. We will help you in the matter, good Humphrey, etc., etc. You shall not be troubled with these pestilent witches much longer. The neighbourhood shall be cleared of them. Humphrey, glad dear master! replied the man. You promise much, Master Potts, observed Richard. Not a jot more than I am able to perform, replied the attorney. That remains to be seen, said Richard, if these old women are as powerful as represented they will not be so readily defeated. There you are in error, Master Richard, replied Potts. The devil, whose vassals they are, will deliver them into our hands. Granting what you say to be correct, the devil must have little regard for his servants, if he abandons them so easily, observed Richard, dryly. What else can you expect from him? cried Potts. It is his custom to ensnare his victims and then leave them to their fate. You are rather describing the course pursued by certain members of your own profession, asked Potts. Said Richard, the devil behaves with greater fairness to his clients. You are not going to defend him, I hope, sir? said the attorney. No, I only desire to give him his due. returned Richard. Laugh, Nicholas. You are better than I have done, Master Potts. You'll never get the better in the argument. But we must be moving, or we shall not get our business done before nightfall. As to you, numps, he added to the poor man. We will not forget you. If anything can be done for your relief, rely on it. It shall not be neglected. Aye, aye, said Noel, a matter shall be looked into, and speedily. And the witches brought to justice, said Potts. Comfort yourself with that, good Humphrey, et cetera. Aye, comfort yourself with that, observed Nicholas. Soon after this they entered a wide dreary waste, forming the bottom of the valley, lying between the heights of Paddyham and Pendle Hill, and while wending their way across it, they heard a shout from the hillside, and presently afterwards perceived a man mounted on a powerful black horse galloping swiftly towards them. The party awaited his approach, and the stranger speedily came up. He was a small man, habited in a suit of rusty black, and bore a most extraordinary and marked resemblance to Master Potts. He had the same perky features, the same parchment complexion, the same yellow forehead as the little attorney. But so surprising was the likeness that Nicholas unconsciously looked round for Potts, and beheld him staring at the newcomer in angry wonder. End of Chapter 3. Book 2. Chapter 4. Of The Lancashire Witches. This Librabox recording is in the public domain. Reading by Andy Minter. The Lancashire Witches. A Romance of Pendle Forest. By William Harrison Ainsworth. Book 2. Pendle Forest. Chapter 4. The Reave of the Forest. The surprise of the party was by no means diminished when the stranger spoke. His voice exactly resembled the sharp, cracked tone of the attorney. I crave pardon for the freedom I have taken in stopping you good masters. He said, doffing his cab and saluting them respectfully, but being aware of your errand, I am come to attend you on it. And who are you, fellow, who thus volunteer your services? demanded Roger Knowall sharply. I am one of the reaves of the Forest of Blackburnshire, worshipful sir, replied the stranger, and as such my presence at the intended perambulation of the boundaries of her property has been deemed necessary by Mrs. Nutter, as I shall have to make representation of the matter at the next court of Swain's mode. I indeed, exclaimed Knowall, but I knew you we were coming. Mr. Nutter sent me word last night, replied the reave, that Master Nicholas Asherton and certain other gentlemen would come to roughly for the purposes of ascertaining the marks, mirrors, and boundaries of her property, early this morning, and desired my attendance on the occasion. Accordingly I stationed myself on your high ground to look out for you, and have been on the watch for more than an hour. exclaimed Roger Knowall, and you live in the forest? I live at Baraford, worshipful sir, replied the reave, but I have only lately come there, having succeeded Maurice Montisfant, the other reave, who has been removed by the Master Forrester to Rossendale, where I formerly dwelt. Well, that may account for mine not having seen you before. Rejoin Knowall, you are a well-mounted sir, and I did not know that Master Forrester allowed his men such horses as the one you ride. This horse does not belong to me, sir, replied the reave. It has been lent me by Mr. Snutter. Ah, I see how it is now! cried Knowall, you are so born to give false testimony, naive. I object to his attendance, Master Nicholas. Near, I think you do the man injustice, said the squire. He speaks frankly, and fairly enough, and seems to know his business. The worst that can be said against him is that he resembles somewhat too closely our little legal friend there. That, however, ought to be no objection to you, Master Knowall, but rather the contrary. Well, take the responsibility of the matter upon your own shoulders, said Knowall. If any ill comes of it, I shall blame you. Be it so, replied the squire, my shoulders are broad enough to bear the burden. You may ride with us, Master Reave. May I inquire your name, friend? said Potts, as the stranger fell back to the rear of the party. Thomas Potts, at your service, sir, replied the Reave. What? Thomas Potts, exclaimed the astonished attorney. That is my name, sir, replied the Reave, quietly. Why, sounds, exclaimed Nicholas, who overheard the reply. You do not mean to say your name is Thomas Potts. This is more wonderful still. You must be this gentleman's twin brother. The gentleman certainly seems to resemble me very strongly, replied the Reave, apparently surprised in his turn. Is he of these Potts? No, I am not, returned Potts angrily. I am from London, where I reside in Chancey Lane, and practice the law, though I likewise attend as Clark of the Court at the Assizes of Lancaster, where I may possibly, one of these days, have the pleasure of seeing you, my pretended namesake. Possibly, sir, said the Reave, with provoking calmness, I myself am from Chester, and like yourself was brought up to the law. But I abandoned my profession, or rather it abandoned me, for I had few clans, so I took to an honester calling, and became a forester, as you see. My father was a draper in the city I have mentioned, and dwelt in Watergate Street. His name was Peter Potts. Peter, Potts, your father? exclaimed the attorney in the last state of astonishment. Why, he was mine. But I am his only son. Up to this moment I conceived myself an only son, said the Reave. But it seems I was mistaken, since I find I have an elder brother. Elder brother? exclaimed Potts, rothfully, you are older than I by twenty years. But it is all the fabrication I deny the relationship entirely. You cannot make me other than the son of my father, said the Reave with a smile. Well, Master Potts, interposed Nicholas, laughing, I see no reason why you should be ashamed of your brother. There is a strong family likeness between you. So Peter Potts, the draper of Chester, was your father, eh? I was not aware of the circumstances before. And but for this intrusive fellow you would never have become aware of it. muttered the attorney. Give it to me, Squire. He said, urging Flint close up to the other side, and speaking in a low tone, I do not like that fellow's looks at all. I am surprised at that. Rejoined the Squire, lorry exactly resembles you. That is why I do not like him, said Potts, I believe him to be a wizard. Eh, no wizard to think so, rejoined the Squire, and he rode on to join Roger Knowle, who was a little in advance. I will try him on the subject of witchcraft, thought Potts. As you dwell in the forest, he said to the Reave, you have no doubt seen those two terrible beings' mothers, Demdike and Chatex. Frequently, replied the Reave, but I would rather not talk about them in their own territories. You may judge of their power by the appearance of the village you have just quitted. The inhabitants of that unlucky place refused them their customary tributes, and have therefore incurred their resentment. You will meet other instances of the like kind before you have gone far. I am glad of it, for I want to collect as many cases as I can of witchcraft, observed Potts. They will be of little use to you, observed the Reave. How so, inquired Potts? Because if the witches discover what you are about, as they will not fail to do, you will never leave the forest alive. Return the other. You think not, cried Potts. I am sure of it, replied the Reave. I will not be deterred from the performance of my duty, said Potts. Why the devil and all his works? You may have reason to repent your temerity," replied the Reave. An anxious apparently to avoid further conversation on the subject, he drew in the rain for a moment, and allowed the attorney to pass on. Notwithstanding his boasting, Master Potts was not without much secret misgiving, but his constitutional obstinacy made him determined to prosecute his plans at any risk, and he comforted himself by recalling the opinion of his sovereign authority on such matters. Let me ponder over the exact words of our British Solomon. He thought, I have his learned treatise by heart, and it is fortunate my memory serves me so well, for the sagacious Prince's dictum will fortify me in my resolution, which has been somewhat shaken by this fellow, whom I believe to be no better than he should be, for all he calls himself my father's son, and hath assumed my likeness, doubtless for some mischievous purpose. If the magistrate, saith the king, be slothful towards wishes, God is very able to make them instruments to waken and punish his sloth. No one can accuse me of slothfulness and want of zeal. My best exertions have been used against the accursed creatures. And now for the rest. But if, on the contrary, he be diligent in examining and punishing them, God will not permit their master to trouble or hinder so good a work. Exactly what I have done. I am quite easy now, and shall go on fearlessly as before. I am one of the lawful left tenants described by the king, and cannot be defrauded or deprived of my office. As these thoughts pass through the attorney's mind, a low derisive laugh sounded in his ears, and connecting it with the reave he looked back, and found the object of his suspicions gazing at him and chuckling maliciously. So fiendishly malignant indeed was the gaze fixed upon him that Potts was glad to turn his head away to avoid it. I am confirmed in my suspicions, he thought. He is evidently a wizard, if he be not. Again the mocking laugh sounded in his ears. But he did not venture to look round this time, being fearful of once more encountering the terrible gaze. And while the party had traversed the valley, and to avoid a dangerous morass stretching across its lower extremity, and shorten the distance, for the ordinary road would have led them too much to the right, they began to climb one of the ridges of Pendle Hill, which lay between them and the veil they wished to gain. On obtaining the top of this eminence, an extensive view on either side opened upon them. Behind was the sterile valley they had just crossed, its black soil, hoary grass and heathy wastes, only enlivened at one end by patches of bright, sulphur-coloured moss, which masked a treacherous quagmire lurking beneath it. Some of the cottages in Sabden were visible, and from the sad circumstances connected with them, and which oppressed the thoughts of the beholders, added to the dreary character of the prospect. The day too had lost its previous splendour, and there were clouds overhead, which cast deep shadows on the ground. But on the crest of Pendle Hill, which rose above them, a sunburst fell, and attracted attention from its brilliant contrast to the prevailing gloom. Before them lay a deep gully, the sinuosities of which could be traced from the elevated position where they stood, though its termination was hidden by other projecting ridges. Further on, the sides of the mountain were bare and rugged and covered with shelving stone, beyond the defile before the mountain. Then over the last mountain ridge lay a wide valley, bounded on the further side by the hills overlooking Colne, and the mountain defile now laid open to the travellers, exhibiting in the midst of the dark, heathy ranges, which were its distinguishing features some marks of cultivation. In parts it was enclosed and divided into paddocks by stone walls, and here and there a few cottages were collected together, dignified, as in the case of Sabton, by the name of a village. Amongst these were the hay-houses, an assemblage of small stone tenements, the earliest that arose in the forest, gold-shore boules, now a populous place, and even then the largest handlet in the district, and in the distance Ogden and Barley, the two latter scarcely comprising a dozen habitations, and those little better than huts. In sun-sheltered nook on the hillside might be discerned the solitary cottage of a cowherd, and not far from it the certain accompaniment of a sheepfold. Throughout this weird region, thinly peopled it is true, but still of great extent, and apparently abandoned to the powers of darkness, only one edifice could be found where its inhabitants could meet to pray, and this was an ancient chapel at Goldshore Boules, originally erected in the rain of Henry III, though subsequently in part rebuilt in 1544, and which, with its low gray tower peeping from out the trees, was just discernable. Two halls were in view, one of which, Sabton, was of considerable antiquity, and gave its name to the village. In the other was Horstones, a much more recently erected mansion, strikingly situated on an aclivity of Pendle Hill. In general, the upper parts of this mountain-monarch of the waist were bare and heathy, while the heights overhanging Ogden and Barley were rocky, shelving, and precipitous, but the lower ridges were well covered with wood, and the thicket, once forming part of the ancient forest, ran far out into the plain near Goldshore Boules. Numerous springs burst from the mountain side, and these collecting their forces formed a considerable stream, which, under the name of Pendle Water, flowed through the valley above described, and after many picturesque windings, entered the rugged glen in which roughly was situated, and swept past the foot of Mistress Nutter's residence. Descending the hill and passing through the thicket, the party came within a short distance of Goldshore Boules, when they were met by a cowherd, who, with looks of great alarm, told them that John Law, the peddler, had fallen down in a fit on the cloth, and would perish if they did not stay to help him. As the poor man in question was well known to Nicholas and Roger Knowle, they immediately agreed to go to his assistance, and accompanied the cowherd along a by-road which led through the cloth to the village. They had not gone far when they heard loud groans, and presently afterwards found the unfortunate peddler lying on his back and writhing in agony. He was a large, powerfully built man of middle age, and had been in the full enjoyment of health and vigour, so that his sudden prostration was the more terrible. His face was greatly disfigured, the mouth and neck drawn awry, the left eye pulled down, and the whole power of the same side gone. "'Why, John, this is a bad business!' cried Nicholas. "'You have had a paralytic straw-guy fear!' "'No, no, it's a goer!' replied the sufferer, speaking with difficulty. "'It is no not to allow, Muntage! Witchcraft!' "'Witchcraft!' explained Potts, who had come up, and producing his memorandum-book, another case. Your name a description, friend.' "'John Norocown, peddler!' replied the man. "'John, Lord of Cull, I suppose.' "'Petty Chapman,' said Potts, making an entry. Now, John, my good man, be pleased to tell us by whom you have been bewitched. Thou mother dame dake!" groaned the man. Mother dame dake, eh? explained Potts. Good, very good. Now, John, as to the cause of your quarrel with the old hag? O, conscursely recollected, my edbith or confose, master! replied the peddler. Make an effort, John! persisted Potts. It is most desirable such a dreadful offender should not escape justice. Well, well, I'll try and tell it then. replied the peddler. Your mother know I will cross entail from counter-off-lay with me back on my shoulders, when all should I make but mother dame dake, and all asked me to give some sitters and pins, but as it looked thou it are reposed. Y'all had better do it, John, her said, or y'all row it to fortune on an eight. But I laughed at her and trudged on. When I looked back and seen her shaking her skinny on that mare, I repented and thought I would go back and gear the choice of my words. But my pride were too strong, and I walked on to Barley and Ogden, and slept at Bessie's at the both, and walked this morning, starting strong. Bullypuss-warded, though witches-thread had come to note. For I lackaday, I were out of my reckoning, for scursly thou reached this clue for my way to Samton, though I was seized with a sudden shock. As if a thunderbolt had hit me, and I lost the use of my lower limbs, and left side, and should have dade most likely, if it hadn't have been for him all the gems of dance, who spied me out, and brought me out. Yours is a deplorable case indeed, John, said Richard, especially if it be the result of witchcraft. You do not surely doubt that it is so, Master Richard, cried Potts. I offer no opinion, replied the young man. But a paralytic stroke would produce the same effect. But instead of discussing the matter, the best thing we can do will be to transport the poor man to Bessie's at the booze, where he can be attended to. Tom and I can carry him there, if Able will take charge of his back, said one of the grooms. That I win, replied the cowherd, unstrapping the box, upon which the sufferer's head rested, and placing it on his own shoulders. Meanwhile a gate having been taken from its hinges by Sparshot and the Reeve, the poor peddler, who groaned deeply during the operation, was placed upon it by the men, and borne towards the village, followed by the others leading their horses. Great consternation was occasioned in gold-shore booze by the entrance of the cavalcade, and still more when it became known that John Law, the peddler, who was a favourite with all, had had a frightful seizure. Old and young flocked forth to see him, and the former shook their heads, while the latter were appalled at the hideous sight. Master Potts took care to tell them that the poor fellow was bewitched by Mother Demdike, but the information failed to produce the effect he anticipated, and served rather to repress than heighten their sympathy for the sufferer. The attorney concluded unjustly that they were afraid of incurring the displeasure of the vindictive old hag by an open expression of interest in his fate. So strongly did this feeling operate, that after bestowing a glance of commiseration at the peddler, most of them returned without a word to their dwellings. On their way to the little hostel, whether they were conveying the poor peddler, the party passed the church, and the sexton, who was digging a grave in the yard, came forward to look at them. But on seeing John Law, he seemed to understand what had happened, and resumed his employment. A wide-spreading yew-tree grew in this part of the churchyard, and near it stood a small cross, rudely carved in granite, marking the spot where, in the reign of Henry VI, Ralph Clidderhoe, 10th Abbot of Whaley, held a meeting of the tenentry to check encroachments. Not far from this ancient cross the sexton, a hail-old man with a fresh complexion and silvery hair, was at work, and while the others went on, Master Potts paused to say a word to him. "'You have a funeral here to-day, I suppose, Master Sexton?' he said. "'Yeah,' replied the man, gruffly. "'One of the villagers?' inquired the attorney. "'No. Oh, no, a gold-shear,' replied the sexton. "'Where, then? Who was it?' persevered Potts. The sexton seemed disinclined to answer, but at length said, "'Mary Baldwin, Miller's daughter, a rustly and as pretty a lass as ever y'all see, Master, over the apple of her father's sigh, and he hasn't had a dry-ass in her deed. Well, a day, women all go, old and young, and Prottie Mary Baldwin was young enough, poor lass, poor lass, and he brushed the dew from his eyes with his brawny hand. "'Was her death sadden?' asked Potts. "'No, not so, sudden, Master,' replied the sexton. Russia Baldwin had fair warning. Six months ago Mary would dare nil, and from first he no doubt it would end. "'How so, friend?' asked Potts, whose curiosity began to be aroused. "'Because,' replied the sexton, and he stopped suddenly short. She was bewitched,' suggested Potts. The sexton nodded his head, and began to ply his mattock vigorously. "'About mother Demdike,' inquired Potts, taking out his memorandum book. The sexton again nodded his head, but spake no word, and meeting some obstruction in the ground, took up his pick to remove it. "'Another case,' muttered Potts, making an entry. Mary Baldwin, daughter of Richard Baldwin, of roughly ageed. "'How old was she, sexton?' "'Thought there ain't,' replied the man. "'But don't ask me any more questions, Master. The variant takes place in the hour and an hour after the grave.' "'Your own name, Master Sexton, and I have done,' said Potts. "'Zakara Worms,' answered the man. "'Worms, an excellent name for a sexton,' cried Potts. "'You provide food for your family, eh, Zakara?' "'Don't,' replied the sexton. "'Testily, go my own business, mon, and leave me the man mine.' "'Very well, Zakara,' replied Potts. And having obtained all he required, he proceeded to the little hostel, where, finding the rest of the party had dismounted, he consigned flint to a cowherd, and entered the house. End of Chapter 4, Book 2, Chapter 5 of The Lancashire Witches BESSES OF THE BOOTH Besses of the Booth, for so the little hostel at Goldshore was called, after its mistress, Bess Whittaker, was far more comfortable and commodious than its unpretending exterior seemed to warrant. Stouter and brighter ale was not to be drunk in Lancashire than Bess Brood, nor was better sherrys or clary to be found, go where you would, than in her cellars. The traveller crossing these dreary wastes, and riding from Burnley to Clitheroe, or from Cullen to Whaley, as the case might be, might well halt at Besses, and be sure of a roast foul for dinner, with the addition perhaps of some trout from Pendlewater, or if the season permitted a heathcock or a pheasant. Or, if he tarried there for the night, he was equally sure of good supper and fair linen. It has already been mentioned that at this period it was the custom of all classes in the northern counties, men and women, to resort to the ale houses to drink, and the hostel at Goldshore was the general rendezvous of the neighbourhood. For those who could afford it, Bess would brew incomparable sack, but if a guest called for wine, and she liked not his looks, she would flatly tell him her ale was good enough for him, and if it pleased him not he should have nothing. Submission always followed in such cases, for there was no disputing with Bess. Neither would she permit the frequenters of the hostel to sit later than she chose, and would clear the house in a way equally characteristic and defectual. At a certain hour, and that by no means a late one, she would take down a large horse whip, which hung on a convenient peg in the principal room, and after bluntly ordering her guests to go home, if any resistance were offered, she would lay the whip across their shoulders, and forcibly eject them from the premises. But as her determined character was well known, this violence was seldom necessary. In strength Bess was a match for any man, and assistance from her cowherds, for she was a farmer as well as hostess, was at hand if required. As will be surmised from the above, Bess was large and masculine looking, but well proportioned nevertheless, and possessed of a certain coarse kind of beauty, which in earlier years had inflamed Richard Baldwin, the miller of Rough Lee, who made over chores of marriage to her. These were favourably entertained, but a slight quarrel occurring between them, the lover, in her own phrase, got his jacket soundly dusted by her, and declared off, taking to wife a more docile and light-handed maiden. As to Bess, though she had given this unmistakable proof of her ability to manage a husband, she did not receive a second offer. Nor, as she had now attained the mature age of forty, did it seem likely that she would ever receive one. Bess's of the Booth was an extremely clean and comfortable house. The floor, it is true, was of hard clay, and the windows little more than narrow slits, with heavy stone frames, further darkened by minute dam and panes. But the benches were scrupulously clean, and so was the long oak table in the centre of the principal and only large room in the house. A roundabout fireplace occupied one end of the chamber, sheltered from the draught of the door by a dark oak screen, with a bench on the warm side of it, and here, or in the deep inglenooks on winter nights, the neighbours would sit and chat by the blazing hearth, discussing pots of nappy ale, good and stale, as the old ballad had it, and as persons of both sexes came thither, young as well as old, many a match was struck up by Bess's cheery fireside. From the blackened rafters hung a goodly supply of hams, sides of bacon and dried tongues, with a profusion of oak cakes in a breadflake. While in case this store should be exhausted, means of replenishment were at hand in the huge full-crummed meal-chest standing in one corner. All together there was a look of abundance as well as of comfort about the place. Great was Bess's consternation when the poor peddler who had quitted her house little more than an hour ago, full of health and spirits, was brought back to it in such a deplorable condition, and when she saw him deposited at the door, notwithstanding her masculine character, she had some difficulty in repressing a scream. She did not, however, yield to the weakness, but seeing at once what was best to be done, caused him to be transported by the grooms to the chamber he had occupied overnight, and laid upon the bed. Medical assistance was fortunately at hand, for it chanced that Master Sudol, the surgeon of Cone, was in the house at the time, having been brought to Goldshore by the great sickness that prevailed at Sabston and elsewhere in the neighbourhood. Sudol was immediately in attendance upon the sufferer, and bled him copiously, after which the poor man seemed much easier, and Richard Asherton, taking the surgeon aside, asked his opinion of the case, and was told by Sudol that he did not think the peddler's life in danger, but he doubted whether he would ever recover the use of his limbs. You do not attribute the attack to witchcraft, I suppose, Master Sudol, said Richard? Or did not like to deliver an opinion, sir? Replied the surgeon, it is impossible to decide when all the appearances are precisely like those of an ordinary attack of paralysis, but a sad case has recently come under my observation as to which I can have no doubt, I mean as it do its being the result of witchcraft, but I will tell you more about it presently, for I must now return to my patient. It being agreed among the party to rest for an hour at the little hostel, in partake of some refreshment, Nicholas went to look after the horses, while Roger Knowle and Richard remained in the room with the peddler. Bess Whitaker owned an extensive farmyard, provided with cowhouses, stables, and a large barn, and it was to the latter place that the two grooms proposed to repair with sparshot, and play a game of luggarts on the clay floor. No one knew what had become of the Reeve, for on depositing the poor peddler at the door of the hostel, he had mounted his horse and ridden away. Having ordered some fried eggs and bacon, Nicholas wended his way to the stable, while Bess, assisted by a stout kitchen-wench, busied herself in preparing the eatables, and it was at this juncture that Master Potts entered the house. Bess eyed him narrowly, and was by no means pre-possessed by his looks, while the muddy condition of his habiliments did not tend to exalt him in her opinion. �You may yourself a role, mon amonse,' she observed, as the attorney seated himself on the bench beside her. �To be sure,' rejoined Potts, �where should a man make himself at home, if not at an inn? These eggs and bacon look very tempting. I'll try some presently, and as soon as you've done with the frying-pan I'll have a bottle of sack. �There you're when, eh?' replied Bess. �You're getting out of the eggs, not baking the sack here, I can promise you.' �Ale, and work-cakes, one serve your turn, gut it down with all the grooms, and play it, kiddle-pins, and iron-holes, William, and iron-send it, or mail. �I'm quite comfortable where I am, thank you, hostess,' replied Potts, �and have no desire to play it, kiddle-pins, or iron-holes. But what does this bottle contain? �Shared it,' replied Bess. �Shared is,' echoed Potts, �and yet you say I can have no sack. Get me some sugar and eggs, and I'll show you how to brew the drink. I was taught the art by my friend Ben Johnson. �Rare, Ben, set the bottle down,' cried Bess angrily. �What do you mean, woman?' said Potts, staring at her in surprise. �I told you to fetch sugar and eggs, and I now repeat the order. Sugar and half a dozen eggs, at least. �And I'll repeat my order to you,' cried Bess. �To set the bottle down, all right, make me hot. I like that.' Cried Potts, �Let me tell you, woman, I am not accustomed to being ordered in this way. I shall do no such thing. If you will not bring the eggs, I shall drink the wine neat and unsavisticate.' And he filled a flag in near him. �If you're done, you're to pay dearly for it,' said Bess, putting aside the frying pan and taking down the horse whip. �I dare say I shall,' replied Potts merrily. �You hostesses generally do make one pay dearly. Very good share is this, faith, the true nutty flavour. Now do go and fetch me some eggs, my good woman. You must have plenty with all the poultry I saw in the farm-yard, and then I'll teach you the whole art and mystery of brewing sack. �And take you to dispute my orders,' cried Bess, and catching the attorney by the collar, she began to belabor him soundly with the whip. �Hello, what's the meaning of this?' cried Potts, struggling to get free. �A salt and battery? �Ah, salt and battery, yo, and baste your toe,' replied Bess, continuing to lay on the whip. �Wait, sound, this part's a joke,' cried the attorney. �Oh, desperately strong she is. I shall be murdered. Help, help! The woman must be a witch. �A witch! I'll teach you to calm me for names,' cried the enraged hostess, laying on with greater fury. �Help, help!' roared Potts. At this moment Nicholas returned from the stables, and seeing how matters stood, flew to the attorney's assistance. �Come, come, Bess,' he cried, laying hold of her arm. �You've given him enough. What has Master Potts been about? Not insulting you, I hope! �Nay, I'll take carey dinner to that square,' replied the hostess. �I told him he'd get that bottle here, and he made free whip-bound bottle. So I brought that whip just to teach him manners. �You teach me if you're ignorant and insolent, hussy,' cried Potts furiously. �Do you think I'm to retort manners by an overgrown Lancashire witch like you? I'll teach you what it is to assault a gentleman. I'd prefer an instant complaint against you to my single good friend and client, Master Roger, who is in your house, and you'll soon find out whom you've got to deal with. �Manny, come out, exclaimed Bess, or come in bay. I took you for one at Groomsman. �Fire and fury,' exclaimed Potts, �this is intolerable. Master Noel shall let you know who I am, woman. �Nay, I'll tell you, Bess,' interposed Nicholas, laughing, �this little gentleman is a London liar, who is going to roughly on business with Master Roger Noel. Unluckily, he got pitched into a quagmire in raid-park, and that's the reason why his countenance and the belliments have got me grand. �Eh, I thought he was a strange fettle,' replied Bess, �and so is a lawyer from London, eh? Well,' she added, laughing and displaying two ranges of very white teeth, �he'll remember best Whitaker next time he comes to Pendle Forest. �And she'll remember me,' said Potts. �They're more source-man,' cried Bess, �or I'll rattle their bones again. �No, you won't, woman,' cried Potts, snatching up his horse-whip, which he had dropped in the previous scuffle, and brandishing it fiercely. �I dare you to touch me!' Nicholas was obliged once more to interfere, and as he passed his arms round the hostess's waist, he thought a kiss might tend to bring matters to a peaceable issue, so he took one. �Eh, done me, yes, choir!' cried Bess. Who, however, did not look very seriously offended by the liberty? �By my faith, your lips are so sweet, I must have another,' cried Nicholas. �I tell you what, Bess, you're the finest woman in Lancashire, and you owe it to the county to get married. �I so,' said Bess, �because it would be a pity to lose the breed,' replied Nicholas. �What say you to Master Potts there, will he suit you? �He, pfft, do you think I'd put up with such power, woman, to thee? No, when Bess Whitaker, the landlady of Goldshaw's wed, it will be a morn and nay to a niny armour. �Bravely resolved, Bess,' cried Nicholas. �You deserve another kiss for your spirit. �Eh, done me, yes, eh?' cried Bess, dealing him a gentle tat that sounded very much like a buffet. �Say, ah, young Jobber, now, he's grinning at you. �Jobber, no, and niny hammer,' cried Potts, furiously, �rarely, woman, I cannot permit such names to be applied to me. Well, as you please, but I'll get you nay better,' rejoined the hostess. �Come, Bess, a truce to this,' observed Nicholas. �The eggs and bacon are spoiling, and I'm dying me hunger. There, there,' he added, clapping her on the shoulder, �set the dish before us, there's a good soul, couple of letts, some ought-cakes and butter, and we shall do. And while Bess attended to these requirements, he observed, this sudden seizure of poor John Laws a bad business. �Dead it is, squire,' replied Bess, and were quite globbin' at seat on him. �Naw, just a mean wife, it's cursed the hour since he left here, looking as strong and as arty as yourself. But it had hazardly on a certain life we lead. Here to-day, gone to-morrow, as Parson Odson says, �Well, ah, dear, throw, throw, Bess,' replied the squire, and the best plan, therefore, is to make the most of the passing moment. So brew us each a lusty bottle of sack, and fry us some more eggs and bacon. And while the hostess proceeded to prepare the sack, Potts remarked to Nicholas, �I have got another case of witchcraft's choir, Mary Baldwin, the miller's daughter of Rough Lee. �And, dade,' exclaimed Nicholas, �what, is the poor girl bewitched? Bewitched to death, that's all,' said Potts. �Hey, poor Mary, who's to be married here this morning? Observe, Bess, emptying the bottle of sherry into a pot, and placing the latter on the fire. �And, dade, you think she was forespoken?' said Nicholas, addressing her. �Forks ain't so,' replied Bess, �but aren't now thine mark dung about it. Then I suppose you'll pay tribute to Mother Chatterg's hostess,' cried Potts. �Butter eggs and milk from the farm, ale and wow from the cello, with a flitch of bacon, now, then, eh? No, but the muskets are gear note,' cried Bess. �Then you bribe Mother Demdike, and that comes the same thing,' said Potts. �Weren't you no so far from Mark this time?' replied Bess, adding eggs, sugar and spice to the now boiling wine, and staring up the compound. �I wonder where your brother, the reaver of the forest, can bear you, Master Potts?' observed Nicholas. I did not see either him or his horse at the stables. �Perhaps the arch-imposter has taken himself off altogether,' said Potts, �and if so, I shall be sorry for I have not done with him.' The sack was now set before them, and pronounced excellent, and while they were engaged in discussing it, together with a fresh supply of eggs and bacon, fried by the kitchen wench, Roger Knowle came out from the inner room, accompanied by Richard and the surgeon. �Well, Master Soodle, I goes on your patient,' inquired Nicholas of the latter. �Much more favourably than I expected, Squire,' replied the surgeon. �He will be better left alone for a while, and I shall not quit the village till evening. I shall be able to look well after him.� �You think the attack occasioned by Witchcraft, of course, sir?' said Potts. �A poor fellow affirms it to be so, but I can give no opinion,' replied Soodle, evasively. �You must make up your mind as to the matter, for I think it right to tell you your evidence will be required,' said Potts. �Perhaps you may have seen poor Mary Baldwin, the miller's daughter of Rough Lee, and can speak more positively as to her case.� �Now, answer,' replied the surgeon, seating himself beside Potts, while Roger Knowle and Richard placed themselves on the opposite side of the table. �This is the case I referred to short time ago, when answering your inquiries on the same subject, Master Richard, and the most afflicting one it is, but you shall have the particulars. Six months ago Mary Baldwin were as lovely and blooming alas, as could be seen, the joy of her widowed father's heart. The outdated obstinate man is Richard Baldwin, and he was unwise enough to incur the displeasure of Mother Demdark, by favouring her rival, Old Chattox, whom he gave flour and meal, while he refused the same tribute to the other. The first time Mother Demdark was dismissed without the customary door, one of his millstones broke, and instead of taking this as a warning, he became more obstinate. She came a second time, and he sent her away with curses. Then all his flour grew damp and musty, and no one would buy it. Still he remained obstinate, and when she appeared again he would have laid hands upon her, but she raised her staff and the blows fell short. I've given they tow on, and Richard, she said, and I spared no heed to them. Now I will make thee smart lad in right earnest, that which thou lovest best I shall loaves. Of one this, bethinking him that the dearest thing he had in the world was his daughter Mary, and the flade of arm happening to her, Richard would then have made up his quarrel with the old witch, but it had now gone too far, and she would not listen to him, but uttering some word by which the name and the girl were mingled, shook her staff at the arse and departed. Next day poor Mary was decanile, and her father in despair replied to old Chatex, who promised him help, and did her best a meck no doubt, for she would have willingly thwarted her rival, and rubbed her of her prey. But the latter was too strong for her, and that blessed victim got daily worse and worse. Her blooming cheek grew white and all her, her dark eyes glistened with unnatural lustre, and she was seen no more on the banks of Pendlewater. Before this my aid had been called in by the flicked father. I did all I could, but I knew she'd die, and I told him so. The information appeared had killed him, for he fell down like a stone, and now repented having spoken. However, he recovered and made a last appeal to Mother Dendak, but done relenting and deriding him and cursed him, telling him if he brought her all his milk and tea, and added to that all his substance, she would not spare the child. They returned heartbroken, and never quitted the poor girl's bedside till she breathed her last. Poor Ruchus! Robert of his only daughter, and her wife to cheer him, how pity him for the bottom of my heart! Said Bess, whose tears had flowed freely during the narration. He is well now crazed with grief, said the surgeon. I hope he will commit no rash act. Expressions of deep commiseration for the untimely death of the miller's daughter had been uttered by all the party, and they were talking over the strange circumstances attending it, when they were roused by the trampling of horses' feet at the door, and the moment after a middle-aged man clad in deep mourning, but put on in a manner that betrayed the disorder of his mind entered the house. His looks were wild and frenzied, his cheeks haggard, and he rushed into the room so abruptly that he did not at first observe the company assembled. Well, Richard Baldwin, is that you? cried the surgeon. What is this the father? exclaimed Potts, taking out his memorandum book, and he must prepare to interrogate him. Sit they down, Richard, sit they down, mon! said Bess, taking his hand kindly and leading him to a bench. Can I get thee anything? No, no, Bess! replied the miller. I had quite lost all I valid in this world, and I care not how soon I quit it myself. Me done a twerk on, though, Richard, said Bess, in accents of sincere sympathy. Then we lived to see Appian and Brattaday's. Ah, we lived to be revenged, Bess! cried the miller, rising suddenly and stamping his foot on the ground. That a cursed witch has robbed me of my heart's chafed treasure, whose crotch of poor innocent has never injured a little deed, and has stalked the heaviest blow that could be dealt me. But by the heaven above I win requiter, and faith is deep and lasting curse late on her guilty head, and on those all there a cursed race. No rest, night or day will I know till I have brought him to the stake. Right, right, my good friend, an excellent resolution. Bring them to the stake! cried Potts. But his enthusiasm was suddenly checked by observing the reave of the forest peeping from behind the Wainscot, and earnestly regarding the miller as he called the attention of the latter to him. Richard Baldwin mechanically followed the expressive gestures of the attorney, but he saw no one, for the reave had disappeared. The incident passed unnoticed by the others, who had been too deeply moved by poor Baldwin's outbursts of grief to pay any attention to it. After a little while Bess Whitaker succeeded in prevailing upon the miller to sit down, and when he became more composed he told her that the funeral procession, consisting of some of his neighbours, who had undertaken to attend his ill-fated daughter to her last home, was coming from roughly to Goldshore, but that unable to bear them company he had ridden on by himself. It appeared also from his muttered threats that he had meditated some wild project of vengeance against Mother Demdike, which he intended to put into execution before the day was over. But Master Potts endeavoured to dissuade him from this course, assuring him that the most certain and efficacious mode of revenge he could adopt would be through the medium of the law, and that he would give him his best advice and assistance in the matter. While they were talking thus the bell began to toll, and every stroke seemed to vibrate through the heart of the afflicted father, who was at last so overpowered by grief that the hostess deemed it expedient to lead him into an inner room where he might indulge his sorrow unobserved. Without awaiting the issue of this painful scene, Richard, who was much affected by it, went forth, and taking his horse from the stable with the intention of riding on slowly before the others, led the animal towards the churchyard. When within a short distance of the gray old fabric he paused, the bell continued to toll mournfully and deepened the melancholy hue of his thoughts. The sad tale he had heard held possession of his mind, and while he pitted poor Mary Baldwin, he began to entertain apprehensions that Allison might meet a similar fate. So many strange circumstances had taken place during the morning's ride, he had listened to so many dismal relations, that coupled with the dark and mysterious events of the previous night he was quite bewildered, and felt oppressed, as if by a hideous nightmare which it was impossible to shake off. He thought of mother's damned icon-chattox. Could these dread beings be permitted to exercise such baneful influence over mankind? With all the apparent proofs of their power he had received, he still strove to doubt, and to persuade himself that the various cases of witchcraft described to him were only held to be such by the timid and the credulous. Full of these meditations he tied his horse to a tree and entered the churchyard, and while pursuing a path shaded by a row of young lime-trees leading to the porch, he perceived at a little distance from him, near the cross erected by Abbott-Clidderhoe, two persons who attracted his attention. One was the sexton, who was now deep in the grave, and the other an old woman with her back towards him. Neither had remarked his approach, and influenced by an unaccountable feeling of curiosity, he stood still to watch their proceedings. Presently the sexton, who was shoveling out the mould, paused in his task, and the old woman in a horse-voice, which seemed familiar to the listener, said, What has found, that briar? That which your lack, mother, replied the sexton, Amazard, we are all the teeth in it. Block out eight and give them to me, replied the hag, and as the sexton complied with her injunction, she added, No, I must have three scalps. Here they be, mother, replied Zachariah, uncovering a heap of mould with his spade. Two brain-pans bleached like snow, and a third remore air on it than I have of my own sconce. For its size and shape I should take it to be a female, but I'll let these three skulls aside for you. What then you'll mean to do, William? Question may not, Zachariah, said the hag sternly. Now, give me some pieces of the mould and coffin. Fill this box with the dust of the corpse it contained. The sexton complied with her request. Now you've gotten all your sake, mother, he said. I would pray you to tell your departure for the burying fox will be here presently. I'm going, replied the hag, but first I must have my phone or a rights performed. Eh, bury this for me, Zachariah. She said, giving him a small clay figure. Burry it deep and see it mould as a way. And as it mould as a way, may she it represents pan and weather till she come to the grave likewise. And how doth it represent, mother? Asked the sexton, regarding the image with curiosity. I don't know the face. Ah, shouldn't you know it? For all since you've never seen her, he knows like this it is made, replied the hag. She is connected with the rest I ate. With the dem-dacks, inquired the sexton. Ah, replied the hag, with the dem-dacks. She passes from one of them, but she's not one of them. Nevertheless, I ate her as though she were. He had done a main Allison device, said the sexton. I heard of be very comely and kind-hearted, and I shouldn't be sorry any harm if I were. Very mild, winnow's own lord, there was quite as comely and kind-hearted as Allison. Cried the hag, and yet mother dem-dack had no pity on her. Ah, that's true, replied the sexton. Well, well, I'll do your bidding. Hold! exclaimed Richard, stepping forward. I will not suffer this abomination to be practised. Oh, as it speaks to me! cried the hag, turning round, and disclosing the hideous countenance of mother Chatex. There, there I see that the Richard Ashton. It is Richard Ashton who speaks, cried the young man, and I command you to desist from this wickedness. Give me that clay image! He cried, snatching it from the sexton, and trampling it to dust beneath his feet. Thus I destroy thy impious handiwork, and defeat thy evil intentions. Ah, thinks that's all, lad! rejoined mother Chatex. There I will find thyself mistaken. My curse is already alighted on thee, and it shall work. Thou loves, Dallas, and I know it. But she shall never be thine. Thou go thine ways. I will go, replied Richard. But you shall come with me, woman. There you lay hands on thee, screamed the hag. Nay, let her be master, interposed the sexton, you're better. You are as bad as she is, said Richard, and deserve equal punishment. You escaped yesterday at Whaley, old woman, but you shall not escape me now. Be not, to show her that! cried the hag, disabling him for the moment, by a severe blow on the arm from her staff. And shuffling off with an agility which could scarcely have been expected from her, she passed through a gate near her, and disappeared behind a high wall. Richard would have followed, but he was detained by the sexton, who besought him as he valued his life not to interfere. And when at last he broke away from the old man, he could see nothing of her, and only heard the sound of horses feet in the distance. Either his eyes deceived him, or it a turn in the woody lane skirting the church, he described the reave of the forest, galloping off with the old woman behind him. This lane led towards Rough Lee, and without a moment's hesitation, Richard flew to the spot where he had left his horse, and mounting him rode swiftly along it. End of Chapter 5 Book 2 Chapter 6 of The Lancashire Witches This Librabox recording is in the public domain. Reading by Andy Mentor The Lancashire Witches A Romance of Pendle Forest by William Harrison Ainsworth Book 2 Pendle Forest Chapter 6 The Temptation Shortly after Richard's departure, a round, rosy-faced personage, whose rusty black cassock, hastily huddled over a dark riding-dress, proclaimed him a churchman, entered the hostel. This was the rector of Goldshore, Parson Holden, a very worthy little man, though rather perhaps too fond of the sports of the field and the bottle. To Roger Knowle and Nicholas Ascherton he was of course well known, and was much esteemed by the latter, often riding over to hunt and fish, or carousels at Downham. Parson Holden had been sent for by best to administer spiritual consolation to poor Richard Baldwin, who she thought stood in need of it, and having respectfully saluted the magistrate, of whom he stood somewhat in awe, and shaken hands cordially with Nicholas, who was delighted to see him, he repaired to the inner room, promising to come back speedily. And he kept his word, for in less than five minutes he reappeared with the satisfactory intelligence that the afflicted miller was considerably calmer, and had listened to his counsels with much edification. Take the Mcgloss of Aquavita, I guess, he said to the hostess, he is evidently a cut too low, and would be better for it. Strong Walter is a specific I always recommend that the such circumstances masterseudle, and indeed adopt myself, and I am sure you will approve of it. Harky-bess, when you have ministered to poor Baldwin's wants, I must crave your attention to my own, and beg you to film me your tankard with your oldest tail, and toast me an oak-cake to eat with it. I must keep up my spirits worthy, sir. He added to Roger Noel, for I have a painful duty to perform. Do not know when I have been more shocked than by the death of poor Mary Baldwin. A fair flower and early nips. Nipped indeed, if all we have earned be correct. Rejoin, though, the forest is in a sad state, Reverend Sir. It would seem as if the enemy of mankind, by means of its abominable agents, were permitted to exercise uncontrolled dominion over it. I must need say that the law and condition of the people reflects little credit on those who have them in charge. The bars of darkness could never have prevailed to such an extent if duly resisted. I lament to hear you say so, good Master Noel. Reply, director, I have done my best, I assure you, to keep my small and widely scattered flock together, and to save them from the ravening wolves and cunning foxes that infest the country. Not if now and then some sheep have gone astray or a poor lamb, as in the instance of Mary Baldwin, have fallen a victim, I am scarcely to blame for the mischance. Rather, let me say, sir, that you, as an active and zealous magistrate, should take the matter in hand, and by severe dealing with the offenders, arrest the progress of the evil. No defence, spiritual or otherwise, as yet set up against them, has proved effectual. Just the remarked, Reverend Sir, observed parts, looking up from the memorandum book in which he was writing, and I am sure your advice will not be lost upon Master Richard Noel. As regards the persons who may be afflicted by wishcraft, hath not our sagacious monarch observed, there are three kind of folks who may be tempted or troubled, that wicked to their horrible sins, to punish them in light measure, the godly that are sleeping in any great sins or infirmities, and weakness in faith, to weaken them up the faster by such an uncouth form, and even some of the best that their patience may be tried before the world, as Job's was tried. For why may not God use any kind of extraordinary punishment when it pleases him, as well as the ordinary rods of sickness and other adversities? Very true, sir, replied Holden, and we are undergoing the severe trial now. Fortunately, Todd, they who profit by it. Here what is said further, sir, by the king, pursued parts. No man declares that wise prince, ought to presume, so far as to promise any impunity to himself. But further on, he gives us courage, for he adds, and yet we ought not to be afraid for that, of anything that the devil and his wicked instruments can do against us, for we daily fight against him in a hundred other ways, and therefore, as a valiant captain afraid no more being at the combat, nor stays from his purpose for the rummishing short of a cannon, nor the small clack of a pistolet, not being certain what might light upon him. Even so ought we boldly to go forward in fighting against the devil, without any greater terror for these his rarest weapons and the ordinary, whereof we have daily the proof. His Majesty is quite right, observed Holden, and I am glad to hear his convincing words so judiciously cited. I myself have no fear of these wicked instruments of Satan. In what manner may I ask of you, have you proved your courage, sir?" inquired Roger Know. Have you preached against them and denounced their wickedness menacing them with the thunders of the church? I cannot say I have," replied Holden, rather abashed. But I shall henceforth adopt a very different course. Ah, here comes the ale, he added, taking the foaming tankard from Bess. This is the best cordial we're with to sustain one's courage in these trying times. Well, some remedy must be found for this intolerable gravence, observed Roger Know after a few moments' reflection. Till this morning I was not aware of the extent of the evil. But suppose that the two malignant hags, who seemed to reign supreme here, confined their operations to blighting corn, maiming cattle, turning milk-sour. Even these reports I fancied were greatly exaggerated, and now I find from what I have seen at Zamden and Ellsworth, that they fall very far short of the reality. It would be difficult to increase the darkness of the picture, said the surgeon, but what remedy will you apply? The courtary, sir," replied Pops. The actual courtary. We will burn out this plague-spot. The two old hags and their noxious brooch shall be brought to the stake. That will effect a radical cure. May, when it's accomplished, but our fear it will be longer, that happens," replied the surgeon, shaking his head doubtfully. Are you acquainted with Mother Demdark's history, sir? He added to Pops. Impot," replied the attorney. But I shall be glad to hear anything you may have to bring forward on the subject. The peculiarity in her case, observed so little, and the circumstance distinguishing her dark and dread career from that of all other witches, is that it has been shaped out by destiny. When an infant, a malediction was pronounced upon her head by the unfortunate Abba Paslow. She is also the offspring of a man reported to a bath of his soul to the enemy of Mangan, and her mother was a witch. Both parents bearish lamentably about the time of Paslow's execution at Whaley. If it's the pity that Miserable's infant did not perish with them, observed Holden, how much crime and misery would have been spared. It was otherwise ordained," replied Soodle. But after her parents, in this way, the infant was taken charge of and reared by Dame Groff, the miller's wife of Whaley. But even in those early days she exhibited such a malicious and vindictive disposition, and became so unmanageable, that the good dame was glad to get rid of her and send her into the forest, where she found her home at Ruffley. Then occupied by Miles Nutter, the grandfather of the late Richard Nutter. Aha! exclaimed Potts. Was Mother Dame Dyke so early connected with that family? I must make a note of that circumstance. She remained at Ruffley for some years. Return, Soodle, and all acquainted of an ill disposition, there was nothing to be alleged against her at the time. So afterwards it was said that some mishaps that befell the neighbours were owed to her agency, and that she was always attended by a familiar in the form of a rat or a moor. Whether this was so or not, I cannot say, but it is certain that she helped Miles Nutter to get rid of his wife and procured him a second sparse. In return for which services he bestowed upon her an old rowing tower on his domains. You mean Malkin Tower? said Nicholas. Ah! Malkin Tower! replied the surgeon. There is a legend connected with that structure, which I will relate to you and not if you desire it, but to proceed. Scarcely had best demdack taken up her abode in this lone tower, and it began to be rumoured that she was her witch, and attended sabbaths on the summit of Pendle Hill and on Remington Moor. They would consort with her, and he looked invariably attended those with whom she quarreled. Though hideous and forbidding aspect, and with one eye lower set the daughter, she had subtlety enough to induce a young man named Sotherness to marry her, and though children her son and daughter were the throat of the Union. The daughter I have seen at Whaley, observed Pots, but I have never encountered the son. One Christopher Demdack still lives, I believe, replied the surgeon, though what has become of him I know not, for he has quitted these parts. He is, as ill-repoted as his mother, and has the same strange and fearful look about the eyes. I shall recognise him if I see him, observed Pots. I was scarcely likely to meet him, return subtle, for as I have said he has left the forest. But to return to my story, the marriage state was little stoutable to best Demdack, and in five years she contrived to free herself from her husband's restraint and ruled alone in the tower. Her malignant influence now began to be felt throughout the whole district, and by dint of menaces and positive acts of mischief she extorted all she required. Whosoever refused her request speedily experienced her resentment. When she was in the fullness of her power, a rival sprang up in the person of Anne Whittle, since known by the name of Chattox, which she obtained in marriage, and this woman disputed best Demdack's supremacy, each straw to injure the adherents of her rival, and terrible was the mischief they wrote. In the end, however, Mother Demdack got the upper hand. Years have flown over the old Anne's head, and her guilty career has been either to addended with impunity. Plans have been formed to bring her to justice, but they have ever failed, and so in the case of old Chattox, her career has been as baneful and as successful as that of Mother Demdack. But their course is well now run, said Potts, and the time is come for the extirpation of the old serpents. Da, how is that at the Wender? cried Sodel. But that you are sitting near me, I should declare you were looking in at us. It must be Master Potts' brother, the rave of the forest, observed Nicholas with a laugh. He'd him not, cried the attorney angrily, but they just have the promised legend of Malkin Tower. We're lengthy, replied the surgeon, but before I begin, I must recruit myself with a can of ale. The flag and being set before him, Sodel commenced his story. The Legend of Malkin Tower On the Braver High, forming part of the range of Pendle, and commanding an extensive view over the forest and the wild and mountainous region around it, stands a stern, solitary tower. Old as the Anglo-Saxons and built as a stronghold by Wolston, a Northumbrian then in the time of Edmund, or Adred, it is circular in form, very lofty, and serves as a landmark to the country round. Placed high up in the building, the door was formally reached by a state flight of stone steps, but these were removed some fifty or sixty years ago by Mother Demdack, and a ladder, capable of being raised or let down at pleasure, substituted for them, affording the only apparent means of entrance. The tower is otherwise inaccessible, the walls being of immense thickness, with no windows lower than five and twenty feet from the ground, or it is thought there must be a secret outlet, for the old witch, when she wants to come forth, does not wait for the ladder to be let down, but that may be otherwise explained. Internally there are three floors, the lower is being placed on a level with the door, and this is the apartment chiefly occupied by the hag. In the centre of this room is a trapped door, opening upon a date vault, which forms the basement story of the structure, and which was once used as a dungeon, but is now tenanted it is said by a fiend, who can be summoned by the witch on stamping her foot. Round the room runs a gallery, contrived in the thickness of the wall, while the upper chambers are gained by a secret staircase, and closed by movable stones, the machinery of which is only known to the inmate of the tower. All the rooms are lighted by narrow loopholes, thus you'll see that the fortress is still capable of sustaining a siege, and old Demdark has been heard to declare that she would hold it for a month against her hundred men. It is though it has proved impregnable. On the Norman invasion, Malkin Tower was held by Uchstrid, the descendant of Wolston, who kept possession of Pendlefoist and nails around it, and successfully resisted the aggressions of the conquerors. His enemies affirmed he was assisted by a demon, whom he had propitiated by some fearful sacrifice made in the tower, and the notions seen borne out by the success uniformly attending his conflicts. Uchstrid's prowess was stained by cruelty and rapine, merciless in the treatment of his captives, putting them to death by horrible tortures, or demuring them in the dark and noise some dungeon of his tower, he would hold his rebels over their heads and deride their groan. Epes of treasure obtained by pillage were secured by him in this tower. From his frequent acts of treachery, and the many foul murders he perpetrated, Uchstrid was styled the scourge of the Normans. For a long period he enjoyed complete immunity from punishment, but after the siege of York and the defeat of the insurgents, his destruction was vowed by Ilbert de Lacy, Lord of Blackburnshire, and this fierce chieftain set fire to part of the forest in which the Saxon Thane and the insfollowers were concealed, drove them to Malkin Tower, took it after an obstinate and prolonged defense, and considerable loss to himself, and put them all to the sword, except the leader whom he hanged from the top of his own fortress. In the dungeon were far many carcasses, and the greater part of Uchstrid's treasure served to enrich the victor. Once again in the reign of Henry VI, Malkin Tower became a robber's stronghold, and gave protection to a free boater named Blackburn, who with a band of daring and desperate marauders took advantage of the troubled state of the country, ravaged it far and wide and committed unheard of atrocities, even levying contributions on the abbeys of Whaley and Sally, and the heads of these religious establishments were glad to make terms with him to save their herds and stores. The rather the tall attempts to dislodge him from his mountain fastness and destroy his band had failed. Blackburn seemed to enjoy the same kind of protection as Uchstrid, and practiced the same atrocities, torturing and imprisoning his captives, unless they were everly ransomed. He also led a life of the wildest license, and when not engaged in some predatory exploit, spent his time in carousing with his followers. Upon one occasion it chanced that he made a visit in disguise to Whaley Abbey, and passing the little ermichage near the church, behold the vautreous who denunted it. This was his older eaton, ravished by her wondrous beauty. Blackburn soon found an opportunity of making his passion known to her, and his ansomth or fierce linearment's pleasinger, he did not long sigh in vain. He frequently visited her in the garb of a Cistercian monk, and being taken for one of the brethren, his conduct brought great scandal upon the Abbey. The abandoned vautreous bore him a daughter, and the infant was conveyed away by the lover, and placed under the care of a peasant's wife at Browreford. From that child sprung best Blackburn, the mother of Old Dendak, so that the witch is a direct descendant of his older eaton. Notwithstanding all precautions, his old dark offense became known, and she would have paid the penalty of it at the stake if she had not fled. In scaling Whaley Nab in the woody heights at which she remained concealed till her lover could come to her, she fell from a rock, shattering her limbs and disfiguring her features. Some say she was lame for life, and be as hideous as she had ear to foe, being lovely, but this is her own ears. For apprehensive of such a result, tended by the loss of her lover, she endured the powers of darkness, and preferred her soul in return for five years of one impaired vautre. The compact was made, and when Blackburn came he found her more bautiful than ever. In raptured he conveyed her to Malkin Tower, and lived with her there in security, laughing to score on the menaces of Abbott Eggles, by whom he was excommunicated. Damn went on, and as his soul's charms underwent no change, her lover's ardour continued unabated. Five years passed in guilty pleasures, and the last day of the allotted term arrived. No change was manifest in his soul's demeanour, neither remorse nor fear were exhibited by her. Never had she appeared more lovely, no one more exuberant spirits. She besorted her lover, who was still madly intoxicated by her infernal charms, to give a banquet that night to ten of his trustiest followers. He willingly assented and banned them to the feast. They ate and drank merrily, and the guest of the company was a lovely soul. Her spirit seemed somewhat too wild, even to Blackburn, but he did not check her, though surprised at the excessive liveliness and freedom of her sallies. Her eyes flashed like fire, and there was not a man present but was madly in love with her, and ready to dispute for her smiles with his captain. The wine flowed fraily, and song and jest went on till midnight. When the hour struck, it all filled a cup to the brim, and called upon them to pleasure. All arose, and drained their goblets enthusiastically. It was a farewell cup, she said. I am going away with one of you. Ah-ho! exclaimed Blackburn in angry surprise. Let any one but touch your hand, and I will strike him dead at my feet. The rest of the company regarded each other with surprise, and it was then discovered that a stranger was among them. A dull, dark man whose looks were so terrible and demoniacal that no one dared lay hands upon him. I am calm, he said, with fearful significance to his all, and I am ready, she answered boldly. I will go with him where it to the bottomless pit, cried Blackburn, catching all of her. It is did that I am going, she answered, with a scream of laughter. I shall be glad of a companion. When the paroxysm of laughter was over, she fell down on the floor. Her lover would have raised her. When what was his aura to find that he held in his arms an old woman with frightfully disfigured features, and evidently in the agonies of death, she fixed one look upon him and expired. Deadified by the decorums, the guests hurried away, and when they returned next day they found Blackburn stretched on the floor and quite dead. They cast his body together with that of the wretched diesel into the vault beneath the room where they were lying, and then, taking possession of his treasure, removed to some other retreat. Thenceforth, bulk and tower became haunted, though all the deserted lights were constantly seen shining from it at night, and the sounds of wild revelry succeeded by shrieks and groans issued from it. The figure of his aura was often seen to come forth and flit across the west in the direction of Whaley Abbey. On stormy night a huge black cat with flaming eyes was frequently described on the summit of the structure, whence it attained the name of Gry Malkin, or Malkin Tower. The alarming pile ultimately came into the possession of the nutter family, but it was never tenanted until assigned, as I have already mentioned, to Mother Dendai. The surgeon's marvellous story was listened to with great attention by his auditors. Most of them were familiar with different versions of it, but to master parts it was altogether new, and he made rapid notes of it, questioning the narrator as to one or two points which appeared to him to require explanation. Nicholas, as may be supposed, was particularly interested in that part of the legend which referred to his older heathen. He now, for the first time, heard of her unhallowed intercourse with the free boot of Blackburn, of her compact on Whaley Abbey with the fiend, of her mysterious connection with Malkin Tower, and of her being the Ancestris of Mother Dendai. The consideration of all these points, coupled with a vivid recollection of his own strange adventure with the impious voteress at the Abbey on the previous night, plunged him into a deep train of thought, and he began seriously to consider whether he might not have committed some heinous sin, and indeed jeopardised his soul's welfare by dancing with her. What if I should share the same fear as that Robert Blackburn, he ruminated, and be dragged to perdition by her? It's a very awful reflection. But though my fate might operate as a warning to others, and by no means anxious to be held up as a moral scarecrow, rather let me take warning myself, amend my life, abandon in temperance which leads to all manner of wickedness, and suffer myself no more to be ensnared by the wiles and delusions of the tempter in the form of a fair woman. Nope, nope, I will alter and amend my life. I regret to say, however, that these praiseworthy resolutions were but transient, and that the squire, quite forgetting that the work of reform, if intended to be really accomplished, ought to commence at once, and by no means be postponed till the morrow, yielded to the seductions of a fresh bottle of sac, which was presented to him at the moment by Bess, and in taking it could not help squeezing the hand of the bouncing hostess and gazing at her more tenderly than became a married man. Oh, Nicholas, Nicholas, the work of reform, I'm afraid, proceeds very slowly and imperfectly with you. Your friend, Parson Dewhurst, would have told you that it is much easier to form good resolutions than to keep them. Leaving the squire, however, to his cogitations and his sac, the attorney to his memorandum book, in which he was still engaged in writing, and the others to their talk, we shall proceed to the chamber where the poor miller had been led by Bess. When visited by the rector he had been apparently soothed by the worthy man's consolatory advice, but when left alone he speedily relapsed into his former dark and gloomy state of mind. He did not notice Bess, who, according to Holden's directions, placed the aquavitai bottle before him, but as long as she stayed remained with his face buried in his hands. As soon as she was gone he arose and began to pace the room to and fro. The window was open, and he could hear the funeral bell tolling mournfully at intervals. Each recurrence of the dismal sound added sharpness and intensity to his grief. His sufferings became almost intolerable, and drove him to the very verge of despair and madness. If a weapon had been at hand he might have seized it and put a sudden period to his existence. His breast was a chaos of fierce and troubled thoughts, in which one black and terrible idea arose and overpowered all the rest. It was the desire of vengeance, deep and complete upon her whom he looked upon as the murderous of his child. He cared not how it were accomplished, so it were done, but such was the opinion he entertained of the old hag's power that he doubted his ability to the task. Still, as the bell told on, the furies at his heart lashed and goaded him on, and yelled in his ear, Revenge! Revenge! Now indeed he was crazed with grief and rage. He tore off handfuls of hair, plunged his nails deeply into his breast, and committed these and other wild excesses. With frantic implications he called down heaven's judgment on his own head. He was in that lost and helpless state when the enemy of mankind has power over man. Nor was the opportunity neglected, for when the wretched Baldwin, who, exhausted by the violence of his emotions, had leaned for a moment against the wall, he perceived to his surprise that there was a man in the room, a small personage, tired in rusty black, whom he thought had been one of the party in the adjoining chamber. There was an expression of mockery about this person's countenance which did not please the miller, and he asked him certainly what he wanted. They've off-grin in month, or I may be tempted to take you by throttle and make you laugh off wrong side of your mouth. No, you will not, Richard Baldwin, when you know my errand, replied the man, you are thirsting for vengeance upon mother Demdike, you shall have it. Ah, ah, ah, you promised me vengeance afore, cried the miller, vengeance by the law, but I'm un-wait long for it. I would have it swift and sure, deep and deadly. I would blast away with curses as I blasted my poor Mary. I would strike her dead at my feet. That's my vengeance, ma'am. You shall have it, replied the other. You're different there for what you did just now, ma'am, said the miller, regarding him narrowly and distrustfully. And you look differently, though, there's a quick glimmer of out your hand that I didn't have noticed before, and that arm is like. The man laughed bitterly. Lave off grinning or be gone, said Baldwin furiously, and he raised his hand to strike the man. But he instantly dropped it, appalled by a look which the other threw at him. Oh, the devil are you! The devil must answer you, since you appeal to him, replied the other with the same mocking smile. But you are mistaken in supposing that you have spoken to me before. He with whom you conversed in the other room resembles me in more respects than one. But he does not possess power equal to mine. The law will not aid you against mother Demdike. She will escape all the snares laid for her. But she will not escape me. Oh, are you! cried the miller, his head erecting on his head and cold damps breaking out upon his brow. You're no mortal and no good to talk in this fashion. He's not who and what I am, replied the other. I am known here as a reave of the forest. That is enough. Would you have vengeance on the murderous of your child? Yeah! replied Baldwin. And you are willing to pay for it at the price of your soul? Demanded the other, advancing towards him. Baldwin reeled. He saw at once the fearful peril in which he was placed, and averted his gaze from the scorching glance of the reave. At this moment the door was tried without, and the voice of Bess was heard, saying, Who you got here, Richard? And why you fastened door? Your answer? Demanded the reave. Can I give it now? replied the miller. Come in, Bess, come in. I can, ah! she replied. Open door, man. Your answer, I say, said the reave. Give me an hour to think on it. Agreed, replied the other. I will be with you after the funeral. And he sprang through the window and disappeared before Baldwin could open the door and admit Bess. End of chapter 6