A WITCH! A WITCH!
In this year of grace, close to the end of the nineteenth century,
many of the villages in the Tsar's dominions are almost up to date in
the science of cholera-fighting, thanks to the energy of the Zemstvo,
which is a species of County Council. They set apart, some of them,
a hut or house as a hospital for suspicious cases; the villagers
occasionally boil their drinking water; they drink their _vodka_--well,
perhaps the merest trifle more discreetly, in times of scare, than in
the piping days of health and security. I would not go so far as to
say that they waste much water in personal ablutions, because I wish
my readers to take me seriously; and as for the drainage and sanitation
of the villages, there is none from end to end of the realm.
Nevertheless, matters are very much more satisfactory now than was the
case forty or fifty years ago; when, at the appearance of the terrible
scourge of cholera, most of the inhabitants at once gave themselves up
for lost, and, resolving to make the most of the short time remaining
to them for indulgence in the pleasures of terrestrial existence,
drank themselves into alcoholic coma every day, until the disease
fastened itself upon their _vodka_-sodden bodies, and carried them
away where no _vodka_ is to be had for love or money.
Tirnova, in the government of Vologda, was one of the villages most
sorely attacked by the cholera-fiend during the outbreak of 1861.
The peasants of this village had many and many a time received good
advice from the priest of the nearest parish village, Shishkina, who,
being a man of sense, had recommended them, before the outbreak
(having driven over on purpose to warn them), to do their best to
stave off the threatened attack of "the plague," as they called it, by
prayer and personal cleanliness. But since the cholera had not as yet
made its appearance in the place it was clearly unnecessary, the
peasants decided, to put themselves out, and no notice was taken of
the priest's warning. Now, however, that the plague had come, a
deputation headed by the starost, or head-peasant, waited upon the
priest in order to receive further counsel, for, as a matter of fact,
they had forgotten all he told them. "Fools that you are and sons of
dogs," said the good man, who well knew how the moujik must be
addressed if it is desired that he should listen, "did I not tell you
long ago to pray to the Almighty, first; and secondly, to clean your
filthy houses and your own bodies with soap and hot water? Go home,
and pray and wash!" At this, all present removed their caps and
scratched their heads, implying thereby that there was a difficulty
still unexplained.
"If," said the starost, stepping out to speak, "if it be the will of
the Almighty that cholera should visit our village, then surely it
would be impious to do anything, such as the cleansing of our houses,
to keep it off? We can pray, of course, that it may please the
Almighty to modify His will in this matter, and, no doubt, your
reverence would come over with the large and holy _ikon_ of St.
Luke the Physician, with whom for intercessor we might hold a solemn
procession; but----"
"Did not I tell you you were a set of brainless idiots?" said the
priest; "the saints only help those who help themselves. Pray, by all
means; but when you have done praying, go out and wash yourselves, and
your clothes, and your houses; and don't afterwards drink yourselves
into the likeness of swine at the beer-house--oh, it's no use wagging
your head at me, Matvéi Stepanitch; I know you well enough! There,
that's my advice; now go!"
"And the _ikon_?" said the moujiks, giving their matted locks a
final scratching before departure.
"You shall have the _ikon_, and a special litany, as soon as you
have cleaned up the village, and washed yourselves, but not before,"
said the firm ecclesiastic, and with this ultimatum he slammed the
door in their faces.
The deputation felt that this was business-like and savoured of
authority, which is a thing the Russian peasant invariably respects,
especially if the authority is abusive and has a loud voice, and does
not mince matters. They greatly approved of the strong language of
their spiritual adviser, and of his vigorous way of presenting his
views; but the advice as to cleanliness was extremely unpopular,
while, as for his allusion to the beer-shop--well, the "little father"
might have known better; he must be well aware that life without
_vodka_ is an impossibility, cholera or no cholera. Therefore the
deputation proceeded straight to the village drinking-shop and there
drank the priest's health times enough to secure _his_ immunity
from cholera anyhow, unless the fates persistently disregarded the
vows of the pious intoxicated. Afterwards some of them took a bath in
the streamlet which ran like a silver ribbon through the village;
being but eighteen inches deep or so, this rivulet could scarcely
afford scope for the malice of a _vodyannui_, or water-demon, so
they were safe enough; but they did not like the feel of the water,
it was unfamiliar and uncanny, and gave them the shivers. Others
patronised the bath-house and employed hot steam to take off as
much of the outer coating of griminess as each considered safe or
desirable; for there is nothing so certain to give one cold as the
sudden leaving off of clothes or other coverings to which the body has
become accustomed. As for prayers in church, the "little father's"
remark was surely uncalled for; did not the women attend to this
department, and was not the priest aware of the fact? They had,
indeed, been specially devout during the cholera scare, and the stands
before the _ikons_ in church were simply overburdened with candles
devoted to the favourite saints. Was all this not enough to satisfy
him? He could hardly expect the moujiks themselves to attend on
ordinary Sundays! After the toil of the week (toil of which the
women took _more_ than their full share, though no mention of the
circumstance was made by their lords in council), surely the men were
entitled to a day of undisturbed rest! It was a long walk to the
church, five miles at least, while the beer-shop was so very handy. So
far as cleansing the houses was concerned, since the priest seemed to
desire it, the _babui_ (women) should be told to use their brooms a
bit, for it was just as well that the "little father" should come over
and bring his _ikon_ with him, the big one; and the moujiks knew him
well enough to be quite sure that he would keep his word and come so
soon as they had made a fair show of performing their part of the
agreement. The starost's house, where the priest would put up for the
afternoon, accordingly received such a cleaning as it had not enjoyed
for years; but portions of the village which he would not visit, or
would see only when the procession was half-way round its course,
remained untouched by broom or scrubbing-brush.
Thus did the moujiks of Tirnova observe the counsels of their priest;
their obedience went as far as their convenience, and no further. They
succeeded, however, in making so good a show as to justify the pastor
in coming over with the big _ikon_ and holding the religious function
proper to the occasion, namely, that designed to stay the ravages of
the demon of cholera.
But, alas! the plague seemed to ignore all attempts to quash or turn
it aside. In spite of processions and _ikons_ and the chanting of
priest and deacons, in spite of everything, the cholera raged on just
as furiously as ever, if not more furiously.
It was at this critical stage of affairs that Marfa Kapústina came to
the fore. Marfa was the _znaharka_, or "wise woman," of the place.
Learned to a degree was Marfa in all manner of spells and
incantations, and in the virtues of herbs and of charms; moreover, she
was a firm believer in her own wisdom, and in the potency of the
spells and mummeries of which she held the secret, though no whit the
less an excellent churchwoman according to the orthodox faith of the
country, in spite of her dealings with matters upon which Holy Church
would certainly look with suspicion and dislike. The fact is, Marfa,
like the great majority of her countrymen and women throughout rural
Russia, was a little mixed as to what constituted religion and what
was meant by "superstition," and where one ended and the other began.
If she had been informed that some of those rites and ceremonies, the
minutest details of which she carried in her memory for use in all
emergencies, were nothing more nor less than mere survivals of the
paganism which had flourished in Russia but a few centuries ago, she
would have been immensely surprised, but not in the least convinced.
Up to the present time, however, Marfa had enjoyed but little
opportunity of demonstrating her talents and knowledge in all kinds
of exorcisms and spells; indeed, she was far better known as one
eminently skilful in the more mundane art of escorting little
Christians into this world of trouble, and of looking after their
mothers in the time of tribulation and sickness.
But now at last Marfa felt that the great opportunity of her life had
arrived. Shortly after the painful fact became apparent to all in the
village that the orthodox ceremonies for the "laying" of the cholera
ghost had entirely failed in their object, the starost received a
visit from the _znaharka_, who looked preoccupied and feverish.
"Matvéi Ivanich," she began abruptly, "the cholera is very bad--worse
than ever. Only last night Avdotia Timofeyevna and her child were
carried away, and this morning Feodor Zaitzoff has followed them. Old
Vainka, the _ooriadnik_ (sub-policeman) is very bad too!"
"It is God's will!" said the starost.
"That is certain," the _znaharka_ assented; "but what, Matvéi Ivanich,
if it is also God's will that we should at least do our best to rid
ourselves of the scourge He has permitted to fall upon our backs, or
rather of the devils which have come among us? Our _rodityelui_
(forefathers) were accustomed to fight the plague-demon by means of
certain ceremonies--simple ceremonies and very effectual. It is at
least possible that the Almighty is angry that we neglect to employ
those simple weapons which a little knowledge places in our hands."
The wise woman paused.
"Well," said the starost, "go on. What are you referring to? Were they
Christian ceremonies that the _rodityelui_ employed?"
"Assuredly!" said the _znaharka_; "there were prayers, and an _ikon_
was carried about."
"But the priest has already been amongst us with his _ikon_, and you
see how much we have gained by it," observed the starost impatiently.
"The function was incomplete, Matvéi Ivanich," the wise woman hastened
to explain. "The prayers were good and the _ikon_ was good, but there
were other things, good also, omitted. There is but one individual
within a thirty-mile ride who knows of the true ceremony, and that is
myself. Pay me ten roubles from the funds and the ceremony shall be
performed, and the plague, perhaps, shall be stayed--who knows?" The
_znaharka_ glanced at the sacred picture in the corner and crossed
herself.
The starost, feeling unable to decide the question single-handed,
resolved to convoke a special meeting of the Souls of the Village in
order to give full consideration to the proposal of the wise woman.
The gaps among the ranks of the Souls were already distressingly
numerous; and the Souls being the heads of houses, this fact told a
sad tale of families deprived of the bread-winner, stricken down and
lost to the community by the terrible ravages of the cholera-demon. It
was in itself a silent but sufficient _primâ facie_ argument in favour
of adopting the proposal of the _znaharka_.
Of the moujiks still remaining alive, however, some few were found
presumptuous enough to laugh to scorn the very idea of holding a pagan
function in order to complete that which the Christian ceremony had
omitted or failed to perform! Better to keep the ten roubles, they
said, for the relief of the widows and children of those who had
already fallen victims to the plague. But the great majority were
strongly in favour of adopting the _znaharka's_ suggestion; it was
at least a straw to grasp at, and certainly nothing could be more
desperate than the situation of affairs in the village at the present
moment. As for the ten roubles, it was pointed out by some that if
"this sort of thing" were to continue much longer, there would be no
one left alive to enjoy "the funds;" far wiser were it to spend the
money in an endeavour to strike a blow at the insidious enemy, who
threatened to depopulate the village within a measurable period of
time!
Accordingly the _znaharka_ was informed that her proposal was to be
adopted, and Marfa was instructed to make her arrangements as quickly
as possible, and to proceed with the function exactly as the
_rodityelui_ had been accustomed in former ages to perform it.
Marfa showed herself to be not only perfectly at home in the minutest
details of the ceremony about to be gone through, but also determined
to lose not a single moment in pushing forward the necessary
preparations. The very next morning an order went out from the
starost, at Marfa's request, that all the mankind of the village,
young and old, should remain within doors until after the conclusion
of the proceedings. They might lie on their stoves and sleep out the
morning hours, if they chose; but--for certain good reasons--they
must not look out of the windows or watch the ceremony about to be
performed. The girls and women of the community, on the other hand,
as the actors and participants in the function, were instructed to
assemble at an appointed place at an early hour. Each was to be clad
in the scanty costume enjoined by tradition for the occasion--that is,
in a short, thin shirt or chemise, and that only. Attired in this airy
costume, all the females of the village, from the oldest to the
youngest, assembled at the rendezvous at the appointed hour, when a
procession was formed in the following order:--In front went the
oldest woman in Tirnova carrying an _ikon_. Next to her walked the
_znaharka_ herself, astride of a broom-handle, and bearing under her
arm a cock of a black or dark colour. Behind the _znaharka_ followed
the rest of the girls and women, ranged in pairs. A huge bonfire had
previously been built up and lighted at one end of the village street,
while a similar one blazed at the opposite extremity of the village.
The procession having marched towards the first of these bonfires, all
solemnly walked three times round it, chanting and praying, taking the
words from the _znaharka_, who knew the correct liturgy by heart.
After the completion of the third circle, Marfa suddenly--as though
struck with an idea--clasped the cock in her two hands and with it
rushed down the street shrieking loudly, followed and imitated by the
rest of the women. As soon as the second bonfire was reached the
unfortunate cock was thrown into the flames, while the procession
marched three times round, singing and praying as before. Lastly, the
procession was reformed and an entire circuit of the village was made,
the line of march passing outside of each and every house; for no
cholera-devil could afterwards cross the line thus determined.
As the army of wailing and chanting females passed close to an
outlying cottage a black cat was unfortunate enough to select that
moment for rushing out of the yard and crossing the path of the
procession. Instantly the _znaharka_ caught it, and seizing it by the
hind legs dashed its head against a stone, killing it on the spot.
This incident delighted beyond measure the _znaharka_, and through her
the rest of the women, for, as she quickly explained, within the mangy
person of the black cat, now deceased, had undoubtedly been located
the demon of cholera, which was now, consequently, "done for" in so
far as concerned the village of Tirnova, and no fresh case of the
plague would occur in the place from this hour forward.
Then the entire company returned to their homes and dressed
themselves, and proudly informed their male relatives of the wonderful
success which had attended the mysteries in which they had been
engaged.
It was certainly a remarkable circumstance that, from that day on, the
cholera actually ceased its ravages among the inhabitants of the
village. Whether the black cat deceased had really been the desperate
character which it was accused of being, or whether faith in the
methods of the _znaharka_ had cast out fear, and with it the principal
element of danger in a cholera epidemic, when, as every one knows, it
is scare that carries off half the victims who succumb to the disease,
or whether, again, the epidemic had already worn itself out and had
taken all the victims it meant to claim, I know not; but, as a matter
of fact, there perished no more moujiks on this occasion with the
exception of one man, who, as it happened, had scoffed and derided the
_znaharka_ and her procession, and had even made rude remarks about
the ladies in their airy costumes as they had passed his house full of
their solemn undertaking. Probably this man was afterwards seized with
doubt as to the wisdom of his conduct, then with panic, and lastly--as
so frequently happens--took the plague out of sheer nervousness.
However this may have been, all these things immensely added to the
prestige of the _znaharka_, who now found herself famous, and in
possession of a reputation which placed her upon a pinnacle far higher
than that of any wise woman or wise man for miles around.
It must not be supposed that by the marvellous success of the pagan
ceremony just described any sort of a blow was dealt to the orthodox
beliefs of the villagers--nothing of the kind. The prestige of the
priest may have suffered, but not the cause of religion. It was merely
concluded by these simple-minded people that their _znaharka_ knew the
priest's business better than the _bátuishka_ did himself, that was
all!
For many a long day after these events belief in the _znaharka_ was
the supreme motive-power of the peasants of the district. If any
cursing had to be done, Marfa was invited to do it. Had the evil eye
fallen upon a moujik or woman of the place? Marfa defeated the
sinister effects of that deplorable circumstance. Her benedictions
were equally effective and in request; so were her spells, her charms,
her incantations and mummeries of every kind. As the faith of the
people in her powers was absolute, so her success was naturally
marvellous in proportion, and for many a long year Marfa's reputation
was unquestioned and her position assured. Nevertheless, a great
reputation carries great responsibilities and great risks, and once a
hole is found or picked in that flimsy material prestige, a rent is
inevitable, and the fabric will easily and quickly go to rags and
ruin! Even Marfa's glory was destined to end at last, and the
beginning of the end came in the miscarriage of a certain benediction.
Young Vainka Shahgin, a peasant of the village, had wooed and won the
attractive Masha Sotsky; or, perhaps, the friends of Vainka had wooed
the friends of Masha and won _them_. Anyhow, the pair were married and
had been duly blessed by the _znaharka_, now an old woman; for without
her benediction no married couple in the district would have dreamed
of going forth to battle with the world and its tribulations. But ever
since the _znaharka's_ blessing had been accorded to this particular
union the pair had led a cat-and-dog life. Vainka had taken to
drinking immediately, while Masha had proved herself a slovenly
slattern at home and the worst of housekeepers. No children came to
cement the union; the marriage was a failure all round. It was rather
hard on Marfa that all this should be laid to her account; but such is
life! It was; and this was the first of her serious misfires. Shortly
after this there came troubles with wolves. During the coldest period
of a certain very severe winter, those famished animals became so
tamed by starvation as to lose some of their natural aversion to the
near presence of mankind. They took to making daring raids upon the
village of Tirnova during the gloom of night, carrying away dogs and
other domestic creatures. Soon they waxed bolder still, and, arriving
in force, succeeded in killing and getting safe away with a cow and
two horses. The _znaharka_, after this climax, was requested to
solemnly curse the offenders, which she promptly did, using the _ikon_
and the prayers of the Church as well as certain traditional
incantations of a pagan character.
But the wolves were none the worse for this mixed dose--on the
contrary, they seemed to be all the better for it; the treatment did
them good and improved their appetite. Where, up to this time, they
had been content to steal a cat, they now carried off a grown pig; the
horses and cows were invaded in their very stables and outhouses;
things went from bad to worse. All the world recognised that the
curses of the _znaharka_ agreed with the wolves, they grew fat upon
her maledictions and the Tirnova cattle: Marfa had made another
lamentable failure!
Thus, gradually, the immense prestige of the old woman waned and
drooped and disappeared. One thing after another failed with her.
Now that faith had gone, success went also. Those who, but yesterday,
had believed in and honoured her, scoffed to-day as she passed them;
nor was this all. As failures multiplied, ill-feeling towards her
increased. Where she had been feared and loved, she was now ridiculed
and hated. Men no longer accorded to her her former honourable
appellation of "the wise woman"; they took to calling her _vyedma_ and
_bába yagá_, both of which terms mean witch, or sorceress, and carry a
weight of abusive meaning, for a witch is always malignant, while a
_znaharka_ is invariably a useful and benevolent member of society.
The idea once started that poor Marfa was a _vyedma_, the unfortunate
woman was--like the proverbial dog to whom a bad name has been
given--practically already hanged. She rapidly grew in the ill-favour
of the inconstant villagers, by whom she was accused of all manner of
monstrosities of which she was entirely innocent. There was no
misfortune or calamity that happened at this time within the district
but it was quickly laid to the charge of Marfa. In a short while she
was cursed and hated by the entire population. At last matters
culminated in an accusation brought against the poor woman by the
pastuch, or cowherd, of the community. The _znaharka_, this man
declared, had taken to milking the cows of the villagers by means of
witchcraft, while the animals were away at the pasture. There were two
circumstances which lent colour to this statement. In the first place,
the milking of cows by magical means was known to be a favourite
accomplishment of _vyedmui_, who, from all times, have been addicted
to this dishonest and wicked practice--a practice exercised by them
not out of mere mischief, but for profit--for witches must live as
well as any one else. In the second place, many of the cows had, of
late, been unaccountably short of milk; good milkers, too, who had
never hitherto disappointed their owners. Day after day these animals
were found, at milking time, to be absolutely without their frothy
produce. At a hastily convened meeting of the heads of houses the
pastuch was instructed to watch the herd while at pasture, to watch
carefully from a convenient spot, he himself remaining, if possible,
unseen; and then to return and report. This the cowherd did, and with
so much success that on the third day after he had received his
instructions he returned from the pasture lands with full particulars
as to how the _vyedma_ Marfa had proceeded in order to effect the
robbery of which she was accused. Her method proved to be an old and
favourite device among witches. The herd described his experience
thus: He had taken up a position, he said, in the topmost branches of
a birch tree, whence he could see for miles around, while the herd
browsed peacefully about the foot. At about midday he observed the
_vyedma_ (at whose name--for it had come to this--the pastuch and all
his audience spat upon the ground in token of their disgust!), he
observed, he said, the _vyedma_ approaching from the direction of the
village, bearing a basket which was full of empty bottles, each bottle
having a separate compartment in the basket. She stopped in the middle
of the communal grass-field, at a spot where lay the old plough which
Ivan Tussoff had left there since last autumn to save himself the
trouble of throwing it away. Then she raised her arms and waved her
hands, and pronounced some incantations, the nature of which, being so
far away, he could not hear, but which, he said, must have been very
potent, for the entire herd, as with one accord, began to show signs
of great restlessness and to low softly and mournfully. He himself
also felt the effects, which were such as to give him a sensation of
nervousness and great depression, and a creepy feeling all down his
back, while he distinctly recognised a strong smell of sulphur filling
the air. Then the _vyedma_, after more incantations, stuck what
appeared to be a penknife into the woodwork of the old plough, when
immediately drops of milk began to, first, drip from the knife, then
to slowly trickle, and lastly to flow. Marfa placed her bottles one
after the other beneath this singular milk-tap until all these were
filled, then she departed, carrying the basket, as though it were a
thing of no weight at all. When she had disappeared, the pastuch
descended from his perch and tested some of the best of the cows. They
proved to be as dry as bones; not a single drop of milk did their
udders afford! The herdsman concluded his tale amid exclamations of
horror and dismay. The peasants crossed themselves and spat. What need
of further evidence? Undoubtedly there was a _vyedma_ among them;
suspicion must give place to certainty. Undoubtedly also it was the
duty of those in authority in the village to rid themselves of the
shame and horror of harbouring such a creature in their midst.
Russian peasants, when they have made up their minds in times of
excitement to any outrageous proceeding, rarely delay long before
putting their ideas into execution. Within an hour of the conclusion
of the meeting the unfortunate Marfa had been arrested, accused, found
guilty, sentenced, and executed. The manner of her execution was in
accordance with the traditional end of convicted witches: she was
placed in a large wheat sack, together with a dog, a cat, and a
cock--all as innocent of conscious offence as she was herself--and
thrown into the village pond, where the whole company went down to the
bottom together, as a warning to other witches and evildoers, of which
poor Marfa was neither the one nor the other.
Two days after this tragedy a strange moujik sauntered into the
village of Tirnova and called to see the starost, who, as it happened,
was at home and received him.
"Starost, brother," said the stranger, going straight to business,
"why do you send your pastuch with milk to sell in our district? Have
you no market of your own that you must needs spoil ours by
overstocking it, and sending prices down for us?"
"Ah, my brother, forgive us this time," said the starost; "it can
never occur again. It was our misfortune to harbour among us a
_vyedma_, who stole the milk from us and no doubt sold it in your
district. She is now at the bottom of the village pond, and will steal
no more milk. May her purchasers escape poisoning if they have drunk
the milk of the witch."
"Was your _vyedma_, then, in the likeness of a pastuch?" inquired
the stranger.
"She must have assumed his likeness," said the starost, who felt,
nevertheless, a spasm of uncomfortable surmise dart through his brain.
"What was this pastuch like?"
The stranger described the Tirnova herdsman to the life. The starost,
in spite of himself, now grew very grave with unpleasant reflections.
When the strange moujik had departed he confided the story to a
friend, who was, like the starost, immediately assailed by similar
uncomfortable thoughts, which played havoc with the repose of his
inmost soul. The pair decided to speak with the pastuch on this matter
so soon as that functionary should have returned from the pasture.
But that wily herdsman never did return to Tirnova. When the herd
trooped into the village street at night, its meekly lowing members
were without the guidance of their authorised protector. Moreover, the
herd was short of a good horse which had belonged to the starost
himself. Furthermore, when the proprietors of each cow came forward to
make the usual demand upon the udders of the patient creatures, it was
found that not one of them had a single pint of milk to present to its
lawful and indignant owner.
Then those villagers realised that poor Marfa had been a victim to the
guile of the herdsman, and they fished her up from the bottom of the
pond. But, alas! she was quite dead--both she and her companions; and
this it was agreed was conclusive evidence that poor Marfa had been
all the while an innocent _znaharka_ and not a witch. Had she been
a _vyedma_ she might still have been alive, for--the starost
declared--she had only been under water eight-and-forty hours, and a
_vyedma_ must soak for fully ten days or a fortnight before she can be
got to drown.
As for the herdsman, the direct cause of the flagrant miscarriage of
justice which ended in the drowning of poor old Marfa, he escaped scot
free.
The Souls of Tirnova did, indeed, hold a specially convened meeting in
order to decide what steps could or should be taken to find and bring
the rascal to justice, but it was unanimously decided that it would
save trouble to take no steps at all. This decision was arrived at
partly as the result of the starost's eloquence, and partly because it
was in perfect agreement with the disposition of the councillors, who,
being Russian peasants, were naturally unwilling to take any
unnecessary trouble or to do anything that could with equal ease be
left undone.
As for the starost's speech, it was short but very much to the point.
Here it is:
"Brothers," he said, "God is in heaven and the Tsar is far away; also
Russia is very large and the pastuch is very small. How should we set
about to find one little herdsman?"
Clearly the thing was ridiculous.
THE END
_Printed by_ BALLANTYNE, HANSON & CO.
_Edinburgh and London_
Transcriber's Note:
Minor typographical errors have been corrected without note.
Irregularities and inconsistencies in the text have been retained as
printed.
Words printed in italics are marked with underlines: _italics_.
End of Project Gutenberg's The Romance of the Woods, by F. J. Whishaw