But all the middle of this valley was a place to rest
in; to sit and think that troubles were not, if we
would not make them. To know the sea outside
the hills, but never to behold it; only by the sound
of waves to pity sailors labouring. Then to watch
the sheltered sun, coming warmly round the turn, like
a guest expected, full of gentle glow and gladness,
casting shadow far away as a thing to hug itself, and
awakening life from dew, and hope from every spreading
bud. And then to fall asleep and dream that the
fern was all asparagus.
Alas, I was too young in those days much to care for
creature comforts, or to let pure palate have things
that would improve it. Anything went down with
me, as it does with most of us. Too late we know
the good from bad; the knowledge is no pleasure then;
being memory’s medicine rather than the wine
of hope.
Now Mother Melldrum kept her winter in this vale of
rocks, sheltering from the wind and rain within the
Devil’s Cheese-ring, which added greatly to
her fame because all else, for miles around, were afraid
to go near it after dark, or even on a gloomy day.
Under eaves of lichened rock she had a winding passage,
which none that ever I knew of durst enter but herself.
And to this place I went to seek her, in spite of all
misgivings, upon a Sunday in Lenten season, when the
sheep were folded.
Our parson (as if he had known my intent) had preached
a beautiful sermon about the Witch of Endor, and the
perils of them that meddle wantonly with the unseen
Powers; and therein he referred especially to the
strange noise in the neighbourhood, and upbraided us
for want of faith, and many other backslidings.
We listened to him very earnestly, for we like to
hear from our betters about things that are beyond
us, and to be roused up now and then, like sheep with
a good dog after them, who can pull some wool without
biting. Nevertheless we could not see how our
want of faith could have made that noise, especially
at night time, notwithstanding which we believed it,
and hoped to do a little better.
And so we all came home from church; and most of the
people dined with us, as they always do on Sundays,
because of the distance to go home, with only words
inside them. The parson, who always sat next to
mother, was afraid that he might have vexed us, and
would not have the best piece of meat, according to
his custom. But soon we put him at his ease,
and showed him we were proud of him; and then he made
no more to do, but accepted the best of the sirloin.
[Illustration: 145.jpg The Devil’s Cheese-wring]
WITCHERY LEADS TO WITCHCRAFT
[Illustration: 146.jpg Illustrated Capital]
Although wellnigh the end of March, the wind blew
wild and piercing, as I went on foot that afternoon
to Mother Melldrum’s dwelling. It was safer
not to take a horse, lest (if anything vexed her) she
should put a spell upon him; as had been done to Farmer
Snowe’s stable by the wise woman of Simonsbath.
