A good log was burning brightly on the hearth, and filling with its
glowing, cheerful light the dining-room of Dr Morgan, the new rector of
the parish, where he with his wife and the younger members of his family
were collected. The rector sat in his easy-chair, his book had fallen
from his hand, for he was dozing after a hard day's work of physical and
mental labour in the abodes of the sick and afflicted of his
widely-scattered parish. His wife had a cradle by her side, but she
held its usual occupant in her arms, putting it to sleep with a low
lullaby, while a group of older children, boys and girls, sat at the
table variously occupied. Charles and Anna having some fresh foreign
postage-stamps, arranged them in a book according to the different
countries from whence they came, and were preparing a short account of
each--a plan their father had recommended, so as to give an interest to
this otherwise very useless pursuit.
"This must surely be American," said Anna, holding up a stamp. "How
like a well-done photograph is the head. Can it be that of Washington?"
On this William, who was engaged professedly in learning his lessons for
the next day, looked up. The rest decided that although the stamp was
American, as it was the head of a somewhat sour-looking old gentleman it
could not be that of the great Washington, but of one of the later
Presidents of the United States. The children were talking in an
undertone, so as not to disturb their father.
"Old Polly Forty Rags, the witch, came from America," said William.
"But it was from some place which the English don't know about; a wild,
barren sea-coast, just like the mountain-side up there, where they say
that she used to practise her witch tricks on the vessels which came
near, and many and many's the one she has sent to the bottom or driven
on the rocks."
"How did she practise her witch tricks?" asked Arthur, who did not very
clearly understand his brother's meaning.
"How!" exclaimed William. "That's more than I can tell. I'm only
repeating what those who know all about the matter say."
"Isn't she a very wicked old woman then?" asked Mabel, with simplicity.
"Wicked? I should think so! as wicked an old hag as you ever heard of,"
answered William. "It would be a good thing to rid the world of such a
monster; but they say she can't be killed; not if she was soused over
head and ears in the river or thrown into the fire. That's the nature
of witches."
Anna, who was giving the finishing rub to a stamp just put in, heard the
last words, and, looking up, inquired with a slight tone of irony in her
voice, "What did you say about witches, Willie? Who has been telling
you those remarkably wise things about them?"
"Oh, the people about here, and the other fellows at school," answered
Willie in a low tone and somewhat hesitating manner, for he was not fond
of having to reply to his sister's pointed questions.
"Oh, the people about here," said Anna, repeating his words. "Is it
possible they can believe such nonsense?"
Willie did not reply. "Anna wouldn't think it nonsense if she was to
see Old Polly Forty Rags," he muttered. After being silent for some
time he added, "If ever there was an old witch she is one."
"You said she came from America, Willie. Why, that's where Frank's ship
has been to, isn't it?" said Arthur.
"Of course it is," cried Willie, as if a bright thought had occurred to
him. "I wonder whether he heard anything of her there? He'll soon be
at home, and then he'll tell us."
"If she didn't send his ship on the rocks," remarked Arthur.
"She'd better not have tried to do it, or we'd pay her off for it," said
Willie, as if speaking of some heroic purpose.
"But I thought you said that she couldn't be killed; and if she couldn't
be killed, she couldn't be hurt, I should think," observed Arthur, who
was called the philosopher of the family.
"Well, I don't know: they say witches can't be killed, and that Old
Polly Forty Rags has lived hundreds and hundreds of years," said Willie,
justly considered the most thoughtless of the family. "Nothing does
hurt her either. You can't think what fun it is to hear the stones
bounce against her, just as if she was made of straw. If anything could
hurt her, I know a big stone I sent in at her window this evening would
have given her a cracker she wouldn't forget in a hurry. It's my belief
that she didn't care for it more than she would if it had been a pea out
of a pea-shooter."
Anna's attention was again drawn to her brother's whispered
conversation. "What are you saying about throwing stones?" she asked.
"At whom have you been throwing stones?"
"Why at old Mountain Moggy, of course, or Polly Forty Rags as they call
her. Who else should I throw at? She's as hard as she is wicked; and
they say she has a whole suit of elephant's skin under her rags, and
that's one of the reasons the stones don't hurt her."
Anna had been so busy examining some little three-cornered Cape of Good
Hope stamps, that she had not till now clearly comprehended what Willie
was speaking about.
"You throw stones at Mountain Moggy!" she said in an incredulous tone.
"Of course we do, and awful fun we had this very evening," answered
William, boldly. "We heard them go in at the window and thump against
the old witch. The clock struck, and we had to run away, or we should
have given her more of it. But it was just as well that we were off,
for some of the fellows saw her lighting up her house for her
witcheries, and there's no doubt but that she'd have sent down some of
her imps after us if we hadn't made good use of our legs to get off."
"What do you really mean, Willie?" said Anna, now quite interested.
"You cannot tell me that you have been stoning that poor miserable old
woman on the mountain?"
"Haven't we though," said Willie, carelessly, crossing his arms on the
table and beginning to pore over his book.
"Willie says that she's a wicked black witch, with red eyes and a blue
tongue," remarked little Mabel.
"Don't stuff the little ones' heads with such abominable nonsense,
Will," said Charles, looking up from his book. "There's nothing I hate
to hear so much; it's wrong, and you have no business to do it."
"No, indeed; it's very wrong to tell stories about her, even in fun,"
remarked Anna.
"Nonsense and stories, indeed!" cried Willie, indignantly. "They are
neither one nor the other. If she isn't black she's near it; and I
never said she had red eyes and a blue tongue; but if you two were to
hear her screech and howl, as I have, you'd confess fast enough that she
was a witch." And Willie turned back to his book with the air of an
injured person.
Poor boy, he had not had the advantages of his brothers and sisters,
though worldly people would have said that his prospects were far better
than theirs. They had been carefully trained in the way they should
walk from their earliest days by their parents, who, though not
possessed of worldly wealth, felt that they might yet give them the
richest of heritages. William had not, like the others, been brought up
entirely by his parents. His godmother, Miss Ap Reece, had offered to
leave him her property, provided she might have entire charge of him,
and his parents somewhat hastily consented. By her he had been well fed
and well clothed, but not well educated. She was capricious, fond of
gossip, and self-indulgent; and continually she would, in order to be
rid of him, send him down amongst the servants, who, as her country
residence was in a remote village, were more than usually ignorant.
There he imbibed many of their prejudices, and learned to believe in
many of their superstitions. Meanwhile, happily, the good seed sown in
his earlier days was not entirely eradicated, though he and his brothers
and sisters always exhibited in their subsequent lives the different
systems of cultivation to which they had been subjected. The residence
of William with Miss Ap Reece was brought to an abrupt termination by
the failure of the County Bank, in which most of her money was placed.
Her means were in consequence so straitened that she was obliged to ask
Dr Morgan to take William home.
It was soon after this that the conversation took place which we have
already recorded.
Mrs Morgan had been too much absorbed with her infant, and a book she
occasionally read, to listen to the undertone conversation carried on by
the rest of her children. Her husband continued dozing in his chair,
but his sleep was soon interrupted, as was the conversation of the young
people, by the violent ringing of the hall-door bell. A servant came in
directly afterwards to say that the doctor was wanted immediately. Dr
Morgan at once left the room, and when William, sent by Mrs Morgan,
went out to inquire why he was summoned, it was found that he had
quitted the house without leaving any message to say where he had gone.
So startled were the younger ones by the sudden noise, that Arthur upset
the gum-bottle over the beautiful new stamp-book. The little fellow
looked very much alarmed at what he had done, and possibly in some
families angry words and blows would have warned him to be more careful
for the future; but Charles and Anna had learned that "he that ruleth
his spirit is greater than he that taketh a city"; and the constant
practice of this principle made it now easy for them to say to their
brother, who sat crying and looking very sorrowful, "Never mind, little
fellow; we shall soon make it clean." Then warm water had to be
procured, and the injured book cleansed, and a few more stamps stuck in,
and the rest put away, and scraps and writing materials cleared off the
table. Books were then got out, and lessons looked over for the next
day. Mrs Morgan left the room for some time to hear the younger
children say their prayers, and to see them put to bed. When she
re-entered the room, Dr Morgan had not returned. Dr Morgan's
prolonged absence did not create any alarm. He was a Doctor of
Divinity, but he had also, in his younger days, devoted much time to the
study of medicine and surgery, so that he was qualified to become a
regular practitioner. However, he had taken orders in the Church of
England, but he never regretted the time he had spent in walking the
hospitals, for, biding his time, he had now a means of access, which he
otherwise might have lacked, to even the most hardened and profligate.
Those who would not have called him in as a Christian minister to advise
them regarding their souls, were thankful to get him to attend to the
ailments of their bodies. Once in a house he never left it without
making himself beloved and respected by its inmates, and insuring for
himself, and for his glad tidings, a favourable reception. Although he
was not looked upon as a popular preacher, it was observed that wherever
he went there was a marked change in the religious conduct of the
people.
Such was Dr Morgan. His great difficulty was to give that
superintendence to the education of his children which he felt they
required, without at the same time neglecting the multifarious duties of
his position. His parishioners gained what his family lost. But the
strict discipline by which he endeavoured to make amends for the want of
that constant watchfulness so important in training the youthful mind
did not answer the same purpose. Yet after all he could do, he knew
that he must fail altogether, had he not gone daily, constantly, to the
Throne of Grace for strength and wisdom for himself, and for protection
and guidance for those committed to his charge.
Mrs Morgan had returned to the sitting-room; the elder children had put
down their books. It was bed-time. They always waited for family
prayers. When the Doctor was absent Mrs Morgan or Charles read them,
but as he was momentarily expected, his wife and son were unwilling to
usurp his office. At length the hall-door bell rang. It was the
Doctor. He appeared unusually sad and serious. The family assembled.
His voice, generally so firm, trembled as he prayed.
When he rose from his knees, shading his eyes with his hand, he said,
after he had given them his blessing--
"Go to bed immediately, and be up betimes, for I wish you to breakfast
an hour earlier than usual, and to accompany me directly afterwards to
visit a sick, and I fear a dying person."
The younger children would all have been well pleased at this
invitation, had it not been for their father's very grave manner; yet no
one ventured to ask him the cause of this, and it was, perhaps, not
without a slight misgiving that some of the party laid their heads on
their pillows that night.