The Lancashire Witches eBook

This eBook from the Gutenberg Project consists of approximately 866 pages of information about The Lancashire Witches.

“Ey’n frightened ye away ot onny rate,” observed Jennet, laughing.  “And yet it may mean summot,” she added, reflecting a little, “fo ey’n heerd say os how witches fly up chimleys o’ broomsticks to attend their sabbaths.  Ey should like to fly i’ that manner, an change myself into another shape—­onny shape boh my own.  Oh that ey could be os protty os Alizon!  Ey dunna knoa whot ey’d nah do to be like her!”

Again the great black cat was beside her, rubbing against her, and purring.  The child was a good deal startled, for she had not seen him return, and the door was shut, though he might have come in through the open window, only she had been looking that way all the time, and had never noticed him.  Strange!

“Tib,” said the child, patting him, “thou hasna answered my last question—­how is one to become a witch?”

As she made this inquiry the cat suddenly scratched her in the arm, so that the blood came.  The little girl was a good deal frightened, as well as hurt, and, withdrawing her arm quickly, made a motion of striking the animal.  But starting backwards, erecting his tail, and spitting, the cat assumed such a formidable appearance, that she did not dare to touch him, and she then perceived that some drops of blood stained her white sleeve, giving the spots a certain resemblance to the letters J. and D., her own initials.

At this moment, when she was about to scream for help, though she knew no one was in the house, all having gone away with the May-day revellers, a small white dove flew in at the open window, and skimming round the room, alighted near her.  No sooner had the cat caught sight of this beautiful bird, than instead of preparing to pounce upon it, as might have been expected, he instantly abandoned his fierce attitude, and, uttering a sort of howl, sprang up the chimney as before.  But the child scarcely observed this, her attention being directed towards the bird, whose extreme beauty delighted her.  It seemed quite tame too, and allowed itself to be touched, and even drawn towards her, without an effort to escape.  Never, surely, was seen so beautiful a bird—­with such milkwhite feathers, such red legs, and such pretty yellow eyes, with crimson circles round them!  So thought the little girl, as she gazed at it, and pressed it to her bosom.  In doing this, gentle and good thoughts came upon her, and she reflected what a nice present this pretty bird would make to her sister Alizon on her return from the merry-making, and how pleased she should feel to give it to her.  And then she thought of Alizon’s constant kindness to her, and half reproached herself with the poor return she made for it, wondering she could entertain any feelings of envy towards one so good and amiable.  All this while the dove nestled in her bosom.

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The Lancashire Witches from Project Gutenberg. Public domain.
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