into the presence of that good lady, to whom they told the object of
their visit. She received them very graciously, and expressed herself
much pleased with John Gower's attention in sending her the kitten,
saying that she had always desired to have one of that breed.
They opened the basket, and she was going to take the creature out,
when it looked her straight in the face, and she drew back her hand at
once.
"Lawkes! child!" she said to Mary; "how the thing's eyes do shine! Like
live coals of fire, I do declare. I never seen such eyes in all my born
days, that I never did!"
As she spoke, the kitten saved her the trouble of removing it from the
basket by jumping out of its own accord on to the table, where it sat
glowering at the party, and making a low noise between a purr and a
growl, until Mrs. Long brought it some milk, with which it proceeded to
regale itself, and the children, having had a slice of cake each, and
been duly charged with the good lady's thanks to their father, took
their departure, and reached the cottage without further adventure.
Now I verily believe that the doings of that kitten at Farmer Long's
farm were of such a wonderful and unheard of character that a whole
book, and a very amusing book, too, might be written about them. But
people did not write many books in those days, and Farmer Barrett could
not recollect many particulars about this part of his story. At all
events, there can be no doubt (to use his own expression) that the
animal's "tantrums" were extraordinary; the cream was constantly
devoured, and the best cream-jug broken on one occasion, in order to
get at it; the milk was for ever being upset; the marks of dirty paws
were daily to be seen on clean table cloths, or on the counterpanes of
beds just made, and, in short, just wherever they ought not to be.
Mrs. Long's best cap, having mysteriously disappeared one afternoon,
was seen in the kitten's clutches upon the hearthrug, a perfect wreck
of a cap, and useless for ever afterwards. Then the perverse little
animal appeared to entertain a strong and marked partiality for young
ducks and chickens, which she ruthlessly murdered whenever she could
lay her paws upon them, neglecting to touch any of the rats upon which
her energies might have been much more beneficially employed.
Day by day depredations were committed, all of which were attributed to
the kitten, and most of which were probably perpetrated by her. From
the moment of her arrival at the farm, nothing seemed to prosper with
the Longs.
Everything turned out just the reverse way to that which they had
hoped, and it really seemed as if some evil spell had been cast upon
them. Looking calmly back upon the whole history, I have no doubt at
all but that the crones had bewitched the kitten when they met the
children on that memorable afternoon, and that to this must be
attributed all that afterwards occurred.
However this may be, it was certainly an unlucky day for the Longs when
that kitten came upon their premises, and that they very soon found
out.
Still, people do not always put the saddle upon the right horse
immediately, and they did not at first believe that the animal had
anything to do with their ill-luck. Mrs. Long, however, who had an eye
to business, could not stand the constant inroad upon her ducks and
chickens, to say nothing of the cream-jug, and the loss of her cap very
nearly brought matters to a climax.
She might perhaps, however, have borne it a little longer, had not an
event occurred which was really beyond anybody's bearing. One morning,
when the worthy couple were at breakfast, the kitten calmly jumped on
to the table, seized a piece of bacon which the farmer was about to
place upon his own plate, and deliberately carried it off.
After this it was quite evident that she must be got rid of. No man can
stand being robbed of his breakfast in such a barefaced manner, and the
good farmer spoke up pretty strongly on the subject. As the breed was
supposed to be a particularly good one, he did not order the animal to
be killed, nor indeed would he have ventured to do so unless his wife
had especially wished it, but he expressed himself in forcible terms as
to the desirability of its quitting his premises with as little delay
as possible.
Mrs. Long had by this time become so entirely of the same opinion, that
she resolved to take immediate steps to carry out the joint views of
her husband and herself. She accordingly directed that the cart should
be got ready the same afternoon, and that Tom the Bailiff should drive
her down to Mersham, where she determined to restore the kitten to the
Gowers with her own hands.
Accordingly, at the appointed time the cart was brought round, old
Dapple, the steady pony, was in it, and Tom prepared to drive. Mrs.
Long got in, and the kitten, who had shown an unwonted and marvellous
docility in submitting to be placed once more in a basket, was safely
deposited in her lap.
Off they went, out of the farmyard into the lane, and taking a turn
which brought them near to Aldington Knoll, descended towards the woods
through which runs the road from Mersham and Aldington to the canal,
and so away across Romney Marsh to Dymchurch.
You must understand that Tom and his mistress were heading away from
the canal, only they had come into that road in order to reach the
lower part of Mersham, in which was situate John Gower's cottage. So
when they came past Aldington Knoll, and descended the hill, the marsh
road led back to the left, nearly parallel with that from which they
came, whilst they pushed straight forward along the road through the
woods.
As soon as they got well into the wood, or rather, into the road on
each side of which the wood was wide and thick, old Dapple began to
show visible signs of uneasiness. He swerved first on one side of the
road, and then on the other, abandoning all the good, quiet habits of a
respectable middle-aged pony, and behaving much more like a giddy young
colt who had never been broken to harness.
Tom the Bailiff who was a simple country lout, did not know what to
make of it, and was both confused and frightened when his mistress
began to tell him that it was only his bad driving. But this was
evidently not the case. Dapple wanted very little driving at all, and
the best "whip" in the world could not have kept him straight when he
was in the mood which seemed now to have possessed him. Another cause
also disquieted good Mrs. Long.
The kitten began to fidget in her basket in a most unaccountable way,
and to give vent to various discordant sounds, whilst the weight upon
the good lady's knees, as the basket had been on Mary's arm, was really
unpleasantly heavy.
They managed to get through the wood somehow or other, until they were
well out of the parish of Aldington and had entered that of Mersham.
Here all their troubles increased--the kitten's struggles were more
violent than before, and Dapple became perfectly unmanageable, until
all at once they perceived a large black cat upon one side of the road,
which suddenly darted in front of the cart, and so startled the pony
that he shied quite across the road, brought the wheel of the cart over
the side of the ditch, and in another moment it was overset and its
occupants were tumbled into the brambles and bushes with which the
ditch was choked.
Had it been winter, or had there been much rain lately, poor Mrs. Long
would probably have been drowned, or at best would only have escaped
with a severe ducking. As it was, the principal risk of life or limb
she ran was from the kicking of the pony and as Dapple was too fat to
indulge in any great manifestations of this kind, she was tolerably
safe from personal injury.
But a stout woman overturned into a ditch full of brambles, is, after
all, a pitiable object, and is not likely to be improved either in
temper or in appearance by the event. So as soon as the good lady could
scramble up into a sitting position she began to abuse everybody and
everything to the best of her ability, which was not inconsiderable
when applied to such an attempt. She told Tom he should certainly "get
the sack" as soon as they got home; she declared Dapple was old and
worn out, and only fit to draw the dung-cart in future, and she abused
the kitten in no measured terms.
But where was the kitten? In the tumble and scrimmage, the lid of the
basket had come off, and the animal had disappeared. Disappeared,
however, only for a moment, for Tom the bailiff suddenly exclaimed in a
terrified voice,--
"Look'ee, missis, do look'ee now--there be our kitten sure-ly!" and
casting up her eyes, Mrs. Long beheld--or at least so she always
declared to her dying day--the kitten, seated upon the back of the
large black cat which had been the cause of their disaster, and which
was now careering full tilt down the road with this rider upon it.
The old lady, being brave as she was stout (which is saying a great
deal) felt nothing but rage when she saw what had happened, not only at
the impudence of the cat, but because this occurrence threw a light
upon the past, and at once opened her eyes to the truth, and disclosed
the reason of the kitten's abominable behaviour at the farm.
After a moment's pause she broke out in great wrath:
"It's them crones!" she cried in loud and excited tones. "It's them
crones, or some like 'em! That kitten's been bewitched--that's what
come to it, Tom, you may depend upon't. Drat them witches!" Scarcely
were the words out of her mouth when she shrieked loudly--"Ah-a-ah!"
"What's the matter, missis?" said Tom.
"Why," replied she, "something scratched me;" and pointing to her arm,
the sleeve around which had been pushed up high in her struggles to sit
upright, there indeed was a long, red scratch as if inflicted by the
nail of a hand or the claw of an angry cat.
To be sure, a lady who is seated in the middle of a bed of brambles
cannot be expected to escape unscratched, and no supernatural agency
need be invoked in order to produce such a misfortune. Still Mrs. Long
always declared that this was no bramble scratch, and coming as it did
at the very moment when she was speaking strongly against the witches,
there could be very little doubt as to the source from which the injury
really came. However, witches or no witches, it was impossible to sit
all the livelong afternoon in a ditch full of brambles, so with much
difficulty and many struggles, Mrs. Long contrived to get up, and Tom
the Bailiff having looked to Dapple, found there was no very serious
damage done either to him or to the cart. So they righted the latter,
and having got into it, proceeded on their journey.
True it was that there was now no kitten to take back to the Gowers,
but the farmer's wife was determined to let them know the extraordinary
manner in which the animal had conducted itself, and had a great
dislike to turning back without reaching the place for which she had
started. So she directed Tom to drive on along the cross road which
leads from the Aldington woods to Bilsington, and comes out into the
main road from Mersham to Romney Marsh. At that point, if you turn to
the left you can go to the Marsh, or to Ruckinge and Orlestone by a
road which lies a little further south, and if you turn to the right,
you pass through the end of the great range of woods which occupy so
much of that district, and presently come from Bilsington into Mersham.
Of course it was to the right that Mrs. Long turned, having made a kind
of half-circle round Bilsington Priory, which was thus at her right
hand all the time.
It is necessary to be thus particular, in order that no innocent parish
may be wrongfully suspected of having harboured the strange and wicked
creatures whose power was almost entirely confined to parts of Mersham,
Bilsington and Aldington, and some parishes further west on the borders
of the Marsh. A good name is a great possession, and the adjacent
parishes of Sevington, Hinxhill, Smeeth and Sellinge have always been
so free from the worst class of witches that, in writing of this
neighbourhood, one wishes to be precise.
After they had turned to the right, as I say, a short mile brought our
travellers to John Gower's cottage; but before they reached it, they
had to pass within a hundred yards or so of the abode of the crones, to
which a very little-frequented by-road led, branching off from the road
on which they were driving. It showed courage in Mrs. Long to take this
route, especially after what had happened, but she was naturally a bold
woman, and perhaps she thought that the witches had probably done all
that they cared to do in having overturned her cart once, and stolen
her kitten.
Be this as it may, she reckoned without her host, for Dapple, who had
been quiet enough since the accident, began to grow restive again as
they neared the part of the road which I have mentioned, and, when
within fifty yards of it, suddenly stopped and refused to move an inch.
Tom the Bailiff laid the whip over the pony's back with a will, but the
only effect was to make him rear and back, so that they were in
imminent danger of a disaster similar to the first. Then, to make
matters worse, there arose a cloud of fog before them, which was so
thick they could see nothing, and had a disagreeable smell of smoke
about it. Whence or wherefore it came they could not tell, for the sun
was still high in the heavens and the sky above their heads clear and
blue.
It was evident that something evil was at hand and at work, and neither
Mrs. Long nor her servant knew what to make of it.
Presently the good lady called out angrily, "How dare you pinch my arm,
Tom?" and gave a short, sharp scream as she said so.
"Oh, don't, please don't, missis!" cried the man at the same moment, as
a hand hit him a cruel box on the ear.
It need scarcely be said that neither of the occupants of the cart had
touched the other; but the matter did not end there. Pinches, pushes,
scratches, thumps, hair-pulling, and kicking began to a most
extraordinary extent.
No one could be seen, but invisible hands assailed both Mrs. Long and
Tom so fiercely and so vigorously, that they both shouted aloud with
pain and terror, whilst, as if in answer to their cries, hoarse
chuckles and deep bursts of laughter rang in their astonished ears,
although no human being of any description was to be seen.
Never was there a more unpleasant experience than that which the worthy
pair underwent, and how it would have ended I really cannot say, but
for an unlooked-for and fortunate event.
All of a sudden the pinching and beating ceased, the laughter came to
an end, and the fog or cloud disappeared, as it had come, by magic, as
a cheery voice shouted out, close at hand,--
"Halloo! who is this making such a noise in the road. My good people,
it is too bad that you should let drink get the better of you in this
way!"
Glancing indignantly round, they beheld no less a person than the
worthy rector of Mersham himself, riding upon a stout gray cob, and
evidently coming home from some expedition to the further extremity of
his parish.
Mrs. Long knew not what reply to make, but as soon as she recovered
herself sufficiently, she answered the appeal.
"I am sure, sir, there is no call to say a word about drink, to which
some folk lays everything that happens, be it what it will. But if
you'd keep your parish clear of these here witches, you'd find things
go a good deal better!"
The clergyman gravely shook his head.
"You must know, my good woman," he replied, "that there are no such
beings as witches, and you ought not to wrong elderly and respectable
females by using such terms. There is nobody here, and nothing to
hinder your journey. I am quite ashamed to see you stopping your cart
in the middle of the road and quarrelling as has evidently been the
case. Take my advice, and get home as fast as you can." So saying, the
good man passed the cart and began to trot gently on.
Dapple, as if his difficulties were suddenly over, and his objections
to advance removed, immediately started after the rector's cob, and
thus they passed the dreaded by-road without further trouble. But to
her dying day, Mrs. Long always declared that she was sure they never
would have got past if the rector hadn't come along just when he did.
This shows the great and proper respect for the clergy which then
existed, and is, moreover, a proof that Mrs. Long was a decent and
respectable woman, whose word may be taken as establishing beyond doubt
the truth of the events which I have undertaken to relate. But it lay
heavy on her soul, for many a long day, that the reverend man should
have thought she had been drinking, and made her more than ever angry
with the crones whose wicked dealings had caused such an imputation to
rest upon her.
The rector had trotted briskly on, and was before long out of sight,
but the cart was soon close to John Gower's cottage, between which and
the road was a bit of waste land; it might be as much as two or three
perches in size, for in those days every strip of land was not enclosed
as it is now-a-days, but there were plenty of green patches by the side
of the roads, and in many places you could ride on grass for miles
together.
It is very different now, and although it may be said on the one hand
that we travel faster, witches are not heard of, and England is richer
than in those days; yet I often say to Jack Barrett that I think there
were a good many pleasant things in the old times, especially in
country life, which we do not get now, and for my part I should not
mind having them back again, even with a few witches here and there
with them, provided we could get rid of some of the strange new-fangled
ideas and curious goings on which we have got instead, and which are
much worse for all of us, than a witch or two or even a stray wizard.
Well, Mrs. Long told Tom the Bailiff to drive upon this bit of waste as
near to the garden gate of John Gower's cottage as he could manage to
get, and then down she scrambled and went into the house. John had not
yet come home from his work, though he was expected every moment; but
Mary received her guest with much civility, for she was a good-mannered
girl, and knew how to behave to her betters.
So she did the honours of the house, whilst her sister and Billy sat
still and listened. Mrs. Long was, as you may suppose, not exactly in
the best of humours, nor was her dress in precisely that condition in
which ladies like their dresses to be when they go out visiting. You
cannot be overturned into a ditch, scratched, pinched, hustled, and
pushed, without some little disarrangement of your attire, and Mrs.
Long's dress consequently required a good deal of "putting tidy," in
which Mary Gower assisted her to the best of her ability. Whilst doing
so, she listened to the account of all that had occurred since the day
upon which she and Billy had left the kitten at the farm, and, upon
being questioned by Mrs. Long as to the possible cause of its
behaviour, she told her of their having met the two crones as I have
described.
The farmer's wife then said that, had she known the circumstances, she
would have had nothing to do with the kitten; but that she did not
blame Mary for not having told her, as of course she had not suspected
that there was anything wrong with the animal. As she spoke, in came
John Gower from his work, and to him the whole story was soon told.
John expressed his great regret at what had happened, and went so far
as to offer the farmer's wife another kitten, but, under the
circumstances, she deemed it better to decline the offer; and,
presently afterwards departed, taking good care to avoid the road by
which she had come, and turning up instead by the road, at the corner
of which the "Good Intent" public-house now stands; by which means she
kept to the north of the big woods, and got safely home. Her adventure,
however, made no little talk in the neighbourhood, and people shook
their heads, gravely and wisely, whenever the matter was mentioned.
Mrs. Long herself was so angry at the disrespectful manner in which she
had been treated, and the unjust suspicion that had been raised in the
clergyman's breast, that she could by no means be satisfied to rest
quiet.
Before taking any steps, however, to get matters set right, she
determined to make an expedition to Brabourne, where lived a wise woman
named Goody Flaskett, from whom she obtained sundry charms against
witchcraft, with which she decorated herself, in order that she might
be able to speak and act against witches with impunity. Thus armed, she
never lost an opportunity of doing both the one and the other; and I
suppose the charms must have had a certain power, because Farmer
Barrett declared that the good woman, when she had them on, never felt
any of those strange scratches from invisible hands which she had
experienced when speaking against witches on the occasion already
mentioned.
Still, say and do what she would, the power of the Mersham crones did
not seem to be diminished. They seldom appeared all three together, but
might be said, generally, to "hunt in couples," although sometimes they
were met singly, but hardly ever without a great black cat.
The kitten was never again seen by its former owners, but in all
probability had been taken by the crones to form one of the guardian
cats by which they were thus attended.
Petty thefts abounded in the neighbourhood, and no one suffered from
them more than Farmer Long, although his farm was at a considerable
distance from the cottage of the crones.
At last things got so bad that the farmer really thought he could stand
it no longer. So one day, after the disappearance of a fine lamb from
one of his fields, when the crone Humpy had shortly before been seen in
the immediate proximity of the flock, and one man went so far as to say
he had seen her driving a lamb before her in the road, the farmer
boldly applied to the nearest justice of the peace for a warrant to
search the cottage.
There was some little difficulty in the matter, owing to the
circumstance that old Finn, the Mersham constable, positively declined
for some time to go near the place, but upon being encouraged by the
parish constable of Smeeth, bold Joe Worrell, who offered to go with
him, they proceeded to perform their duty, accompanied by the farmer.
Mrs. Long had gone to Dymchurch that day for a breath of sea air, so
that he knew she would not be uneasy about him, and deemed it but right
to back up the officers of justice, whom he met by appointment at the
foot of Collier's Hill in Mersham, and they advanced together. But the
road appeared to be endless, for although it could not be much more
than two miles, if so much, to the cottage, it seemed as if they would
never get there.
Then, although the weather had been fine, there came on a hailstorm
which nearly blinded them, and, notwithstanding that Finn had been born
in the parish and the others knew it well, they actually lost their
way, and found themselves close to Kingsnorth Church, which everybody
knows to be in quite an opposite direction. They hastily retraced their
steps, but then it suddenly became dark. Finn and the farmer both had
their hats plucked off their heads by invisible hands, and although
Worrell was untouched (it being well-known that no witch dare lay hands
on a Smeeth man) yet he felt far from comfortable. Determined, however,
to do their duty, the men made another attempt, and going round towards
Aldington, were about to try and approach that side, when, all darkness
having cleared away, they saw at a distance a light in the sky which
betokened a fire, and from the direction, it appeared to be burning
somewhere very near to Farmer Long's house. This put out of his head
altogether the business upon which he was out, and he immediately
retraced his steps as fast as possible, accompanied by the constables.
When he got near home the flames seemed to have died away, but a heavy
smoke hung over the place, and as he approached still nearer a sad
sight indeed met his eyes. His stables were utterly burned to the
ground, and three valuable horses destroyed, despite every effort to
save them. Farmer Long rushed hastily to the spot, but all he found was
his poor half-witted son sitting calmly on the grass contemplating the
smouldering embers with a vacant expression of countenance.