"By well and rills, in meadows green,
We nightly dance our heyday guise;
And to our fairy king and queen
We chant our moonlight minstrelsies.
When larks 'gin sing,
Away we fling,
And babes new-born we steal as we go,
And elf in bed
We leave instead,
And wend us laughing, ho, ho, ho!"--BEN JONSON.
The story which serves for the basis of the following legend will be
easily recognised in the neighbourhood where the transactions are said
to have occurred, though probably not known beyond its immediate
locality.
The accessories are gathered from a number of sources: and the great
difficulty the author has had to encounter in getting at what he
conceives the real state and character of the time, together with the
history of contemporary individuals and events, so as to give a natural
picture of the manners and customs of that remote era, can be known by
those only who have entered into pursuits of this nature. In this and in
the succeeding legends he has attempted to illustrate and portray the
customs of that particular epoch to which they relate, as well as to
detail the events on which they are founded.
It may be interesting to notice that a similar exploit is recorded in
the Scandinavian Legends, and may be traced, under many variations of
circumstances and events, in the Icelandic, Danish, and Norwegian
poetry, affording another intimation of the source from whence our
popular mythology is derived.
Towards the latter end of the reign of William, the Norman conqueror,
Gamel, the Saxon Thane, Lord of Recedham or "Rached," being left in the
quiet possession of his lands and privileges by the usurper, "minded,"
as the phrase then was, "for the fear of God and the salvation of his
immortal soul, to build a chapel unto St Chadde," nigh to the banks of
the Rache or Roach. For this pious use a convenient place was set apart,
lying on the north bank of the river, in a low and sheltered spot now
called "The Newgate." Piles of timber and huge stones were gathered
thither in the most unwonted profusion; insomuch, that the building
seemed destined for some more ambitious display than the humble edifices
called churches then exhibited, of which but few existed in the
surrounding districts.
The foundations were laid. The loose and spongy nature of the soil
required heavy stakes to be driven, upon and between which were laid
several courses of rubble-stone, ready to receive the grouting or
cement. Yet in one night was the whole mass conveyed, without the loss
of a single stone, to the summit of a steep hill on the opposite bank,
and apparently without any visible marks or signs betokening the agents
or means employed for its removal. It did seem as though their pathway
had been the viewless air, so silently was all track obliterated. Great
was the consternation that spread among the indwellers of the four
several clusters of cabins dignified by the appellation of villages, and
bearing, with their appendages, the names of Castletown, Spoddenland,
Honorsfield, and Buckland. With dismay and horror this profanation was
witnessed. The lord, more especially, became indignant. This daring
presumption--this wilful outrage, so like bidding defiance to his power,
bearding the lion even in his den, was deemed an offence calling for
signal vengeance upon the perpetrators.
At the cross in Honorsfield a proclamation was recited, to the intent,
that unless the offending parties were forthwith given up to meet the
punishment that might be awarded to their misdeeds, a heavy mulct would
follow, and the unfortunate villains and _bordarii_ be subject to such
further infliction as might still seem wanting to assuage their lord's
displeasure. Now this was a grievous disaster to the unhappy vassals,
seeing that none could safely or truly accuse his neighbour. All were
agreed that human agency had no share in the work. The wiser part threw
out a shrewd suspicion, that the old deities whom their forefathers had
worshipped, and whose altars had been thrown down and their sacrifices
forbidden, had burst the thraldom in which they were aforetime held by
the Christian priests, and were now brooding a fearful revenge for the
many insults they had endured. But the decree from the lord was hasty,
and the command urgent; so that a council was holden for the devising of
some plan for their relief.
Hugh de Chadwycke and John de Spotland were subordinate lords, or
feudatories, holding fortified dwellings, castelets, or peels, in the
manor of Rochdale; the former had builded his rude mansion of massive
timber, for the double purpose of habitation and defence, on a bold
eminence, forming a steep bank of the river, about a mile from the
Thane's castle. Claiming a relationship to the lord, he was in some
measure privileged above his friend De Spotland, yet was the latter a
personage of considerable power and influence at the manor court. To
these men when their aid was necessary, either as counsellors or
intercessors, did the inhabitants generally repair.
Hugh de Chadwycke was a man of mild and grave deportment, but politic
withal, and wary of counsel. John de Spotland was of a more bold and
open temper. De Chadwycke suggested a submissive application to the
Thane, with a pledge that all possible diligence should be used for the
fulfilment of his demands. John urged the removal of the materials with
all expedition to their original site, a watch being set to discover the
delinquents, should they again presume to lay hands on the stuff. The
wisdom and propriety of the latter precaution was undisputed; but no one
seemed willing to undergo the terrible ordeal, each declining the office
in deference to his more privileged neighbour. No wonder at their
reluctance to so unequal a contest. To be strangled or torn limb from
limb was the slightest punishment that could be expected for this daring
profanation; yet, unless they had witnesses, bodily, to these diabolical
exploits, it were needless to attempt excusing themselves before the
haughty chieftain. He would visit with fearful severity all their
endeavours to deceive, nor would he credit their belief, unless it were
confirmed by the testimony of an eye-witness. How to procure this
desirable source of intelligence was a question that was hourly becoming
more difficult to solve.
Slow and melancholy was their return, while with fear and hesitation
they communicated the result.
"Now, shame befall thee, Adam of Wills!" said a stout woman, to one of
the speakers; "thou wert ever a tough fighter; and the cudgel and ragged
staff were as glib in thine hands as a beggar's pouch on alms-days. Show
thy mettle, man. I'll spice thee a jug of barley-drink, an' thou be for
the bout this time."
"Nay," returned Adam, "I 'll fight Beelzebub if he be aught I can hit;
but these same boggarts, they say, a blow falls on 'em like rain-drops
on a mist, or like beating the wind with a corn-flail. I cannot fight
with naught, as it were."
"Shame on thee, Hal!" said a shrill-tongued, crooked little body,
arrayed in a coarse grey hood, and holding a stick, like unto a
one-handed crutch, of enormous dimensions. "Shame on thee! I would watch
myself, but the night-wind sits indifferently on my stomach, and I am
too old now for these moonshine lifts."
She cast her little bleared eyes, half-shut and distilling contempt, on
the cowardly bystanders.
"Now, if there be not old Cicely," first went round in a whisper; then a
deep silence gradually pervaded the assembly.
She had just hobbled down to the cross, and the audience seemed to watch
her looks with awe and suspicion.
"What, none o' ye? Come, Uctred, thou shalt shame these big-tongued,
wide-mouthed boasters."
A short swarthy-looking boy, with a leering and unfavourable
countenance, here stepped forward, taking his station upon one of the
steps beside his mother. A notion had gone abroad that the boy was the
fruit of some unhallowed intercourse with an immortal of the fairy or
pixy kind, whose illicit amours the old woman had wickedly indulged. She
too, was thought to bear in some degree a charmed life, and to hold
communion with intelligences not of the most holy or reputable order.
The boy was dumb. His lips had, however, at times a slight and tremulous
movement, which strongly impressed the beholders that some discourse was
then carrying on between "the dummy," as he was generally called, and
his invisible relatives. His whole aspect was singularly painful and
forbidding. No wonder, in these times of debasing superstition, that his
person should be looked on with abhorrence, and even a touch from him be
accounted an evil of no slight import. His mother alone had the power of
communicating with him, or of understanding his grimaces.
"Now what will you give me for the use of his pretty eyes this lucky
night? The Thane will have regard to his testimony, though all that have
free use of the tongue he holds to be liars and dishonest. Never lied
this youth by sign or token!"
A buzz went through the company, and the dame and her boy again sat down
to await the issue. All eyes were directed towards them, timidly and by
stealth, as the consultation grew louder and more continuous.
A pause at length ensued. Some three or four of the group drew towards
the crone, who sat almost double, her chin resting on the neb of her
crutch.
"Now will we give thee two changes of raiment, together with a mess of
barley-pottage; and every year thou shalt have a penny at Easter, and a
fat hen at Shrovetide."
"Good," said the greedy beldame; "but I'll have a sheep-skin cap for the
boy, and a horn spoon." This demand was also granted; after which she
made signs to the lad, who swung his head to and fro, at the same time
distorting his features with a wild and terrible rapidity. It was
evident that he understood the nature of these proceedings. A glance,
like that of mockery and derision, he cast towards the crowd; and when
Mother Cicely was returning, he threw back upon them a look of scorn and
malignity which made the beholders shrink aside with horror.
The people now addressed themselves to the task of replacing the heavy
materials, and ere night the greater part were withdrawn, ready to
begin with the foundations again on the morrow.
A sort of rude shelter was constructed, wherein Uctred was to keep watch
until daylight.
The morning came, calm and beautiful over the grey hills; and the
anxious inhabitants, awake betimes, did each turn his first steps
towards the river's brink. With horror and amazement they again beheld
the ground bare. Not a vestige remained, nor was there any trace of the
boy.
"He is gone to his own," said they, as a general shudder went through
the crowd; "and the fairies have gotten him at last."
Every heart seemed quailing with some hidden fear; nor could any means
at that moment be suggested for their emancipation.
The stones and timber were again found, as before, on the opposite hill.
Fifty stout men had with difficulty contrived to fetch them from thence
the day preceding, and twice that number would hardly have sufficed to
transport them thither. It was not to be gainsayed that a power superior
to their own was the agent in removals so mysterious. Nothing now
remained but to acquaint their lord with this second interruption; and
their diligence in performing this duty, they hoped, might exculpate
them from the heavy doom they had incurred. Some of the wiser and more
stout-hearted were chosen to carry these tidings to the Thane, hoping to
clear themselves from the ban, as well as to return with commands for
their future proceedings.
Gamel de Recedham, or Rochdale, had his dwelling in the ancient castle
built by the Romans on the verge of a steep hill jutting into the valley
of the Roach. It was a place difficult of access, save on the southern
side, where a wide ditch formed an effectual defence, and over which a
narrow bridge admitted only two abreast in front of the outer gate. It
was now, in some places, fast going to decay, but enough remained out of
its vast bulk to form a dwelling for the Saxon and his followers. It had
been once fortified throughout; the castle, or keep, being four-square,
flanked at the corners with stone towers. The lower part of the walls
was composed of large pebbles mixed with brick, and held together by a
firm cement. Higher up, and continued to the summit, were alternate rows
of brick and freestone. The corners were faced with stone, making a very
formidable appearance when guarded by slingers and throwers of darts,
who were stationed there only in times of great peril.
Passing the vallum, or outer defence, they ascended a narrow staircase
outside the keep, where the cringing serfs were admitted by four of the
lord's Norman bowmen, who ushered them into the audience-chamber. Some
of the Thane's men were habited in coats of mail, made of small pieces
of iron, cut round at the bottom, and set on a leathern garment, so as
to fold over each other like fish-scales, the whole bending with the
greatest ease, and yet affording a sufficient protection to the wearer.
The chamber of audience was situated at the uppermost part of the keep,
and great was the apprehension of the intruders, whilst following their
guides through the winding passages and gloomy staircases leading to the
inner cell occupied by their chief. The disposition of the armed
men,--their warlike habiliments, and the various and uncouth weapons
which seemed to threaten terror and defiance, were all objects to them
of apprehension and distrust. The walls of this gloomy apartment were
lined with thin bricks, ornamentally disposed in herring-bone work,
after the fashion of the time. The windows, though narrow on the
outside, were broad and arched within, displaying a rude sort of taste
in their construction. Round the walls were groups of weapons,
ostentatiously displayed; two-edged broadswords; long spears, some
barbed and others flat and broad; shields, the oldest of which were
large, and had a sharp point projecting from the centre; others, of the
Norman and more recent fashion, were smaller, and of an oval shape.
Battle-axes, lances, and javelins, were strewn about in formidable
profusion. Hauberks, or chain-mail, hung at intervals from the walls,
looking grim and stalwart from their repose, like the headless trunks of
the warriors they had once encompassed.
A broad curtain, curiously embroidered, covered one end of the room,
from behind which crept a page or henchman, in gay attire, his tunic
glistening with his lord's device.
The serfs bowed with the most abject submission to this representative
of their lord, who lived in the customary style of barbarous and feudal
pomp, which the manners of their Norman invaders had rather contributed
to increase than to diminish.
"Tell thy master," said their companion, "that some of the folk would
speak with him, touching the matter by which they are in jeopardy."
Smoothing his locks and trimming down his garments, the boy departed.
It was long or ere the audience was granted; in the meantime, they stood
trembling and oppressed with an evil foreboding for the result, the
known hasty and impetuous temper of the Saxon rendering it a matter of
some doubt, and no small hazard, as to what might be the issue of their
conference. Suddenly was heard the clanking of armour, and the tramp of
nailed feet, announcing his approach; the heavy arras was uplifted, and
Gamel the Thane stood before them. He was richly attired in a loose coat
reaching down to his ankles; over this was a long robe, fastened over
both shoulders and on the breast with a silver buckle. The edges were
trimmed with gold and knots of flowers interwoven with pearls and rare
stones. On his head he wore a coronet, or rim of gold, enriched with
jewels; and his bushy hair and grizzled beard looked still more grim and
forbidding beneath these glittering ornaments. His eyes were quick and
piercing; his cheeks pale and slightly furrowed. A narrow and retreating
mouth, firmly drawn in, showed the bent of his disposition to be fierce
and choleric, and his wrath not easily turned aside. He was accompanied
by his billmen, together with some half-dozen attendants, clad in shirts
of chain mail and helmets fitting close to the head. These bore lances
after the Norman fashion then prevailing over the ruder customs of their
Saxon predecessors.
The more polished manners of the Norman's court had early pervaded the
ranks of the nobles; and even the few hereditary Saxon chiefs left in
possession of their ancient sovereignties, thought their domains cheaply
purchased by this obsequious show of homage to their king.
The Thane's chief henchman occupied the post of honour, whilst a little
footpage stood by his master's elbow.
The villains prostrated themselves.
"How now!--Where are the caitiffs I commanded of ye? I vow to the Virgin
and St Chadde, your own necks shall swing from the tower in their stead,
should ye fail in that which I require at your hands."
The trembling hearers were, afraid to answer--their lips quivered, and
each tongue seemed to refuse its office. Gamel proceeded:----
"What! come ye to fawn and whine out my purpose? Now will I make your
chastisement ten times hotter for this intent. Lodge these knaves,
Nicholas, i' the further dungeon, till they be reprieved by the rogues
who are yet at large and defying our power:--they hold it somewhat
cheap, methinks, when they value it less than the pampering of their own
wantonness and sport."
Nicholas was herald, bedellus, or chief crier, to the lord of the manor,
his office being to make proclamations at the court and the cross, where
the use of his capacious lungs was oft in request. He was hangman, too,
upon occasion, being never so well pleased as when employed in the due
chastisement of his master's lieges. He was, moreover, a man of infinite
humour, generally consoling his dear unfortunates under their
visitations by some coarse and galling jest.
"Now, Adam of Hunersfield, art thou at thy prayers already?--I'll shrive
thee quick. Master, shall I give the rogues any victuals? They'll not
keep else till hanging time;--best finish now--needless to waste
provender."
"Give them the prison allowance. But, hark thee, no stripes, Nicholas,"
said the chief, well aware of his flagellant propensities.
"Eh!" replied he; "but black cake and dried beans don't mix well i' the
stomach without riddling."
"Peace, sirrah!" replied the chieftain with a frown. Nicholas, though a
licensed jester and in especial favour, knew there was a boundary beyond
which he durst not pass; he became silent, therefore, at this command.
The lamentations of the unwary hostages were loud but unavailing.
Nicholas prepared his manacles, and was leading them from the chamber,
when the page whispered in his master's ear.
"Stop," cried the Thane: "know ye aught of the boy who was a-watching
yesternight?"
"We know nothing of the lad, as we hope for deliverance," said the
terrified rustics.
"Bring in the woman!"
The command was followed by the entrance of Cicely. Leaning on her
crutch, she bent lowly before the chief.
"Hast thou any suit or accusation to prefer against these men, as
touching thy boy?"
"Oh, my lord!" said the dame, weeping, "I never aforetime knew him
missing; and he has slept i' the Killer Dane, where the great battle was
fought below the castle. He has watched i' the 'Thrutch,' where the
black dog haunts from sunset till cock-crow. He has leapt over the
fairies' ring and run through the old house at Gozlewood, and no harm
has befallen him; but he is now ta'en from me,--cast out, maybe, into
some noisome pit. The timbers and stones are leapt on to the hill again,
but my boy is not there!"
She wept and wrung her withered hands.
"Hast thou any witness against these men?"
"Oh! my lord, they bribed me with their gifts that I should suffer the
boy to watch; and I am poor, and I thought he wore a charmed life, and
the little hoard would be a comfort and a stay in my old age."
"Thou hast done wickedly in this," said the lord. "Howbeit, I will keep
them in the stocks; peradventure it may quicken the wits of their
outdoor friends to find out the mover of these scurvy pranks. The post
and timbers would not go up hill unless some knave had holpen to lift
them."
Nicholas was departing to the indulgence of his favourite pastime, when
a loud hubbub was heard without, and presently a fellow was pushed in by
the pressure of the crowd upon his shoulders; but they drew back, on
finding the immediate presence of their chief.
This man was accounted the most notorious idler in the neighbourhood,
hight "Barnulf with the nose." His eyes looked red and swollen, and his
senses had become muddled and obtuse with long steeping. Silence was
immediately enforced, while the assembly anxiously awaited the
interrogation of this intolerable coveter of barley-drink.
"Art thou again at thy freaks?" said the Thane, angrily: "thou hast soon
forgotten the stocks and the whipping-post on Easter-day. It were well
that Nicholas should refresh thy memory in this matter."
At this dreaded name the poor wretch fell on his face.
"Please ye, my lord," said he, hardly raising his head from the floor,
"I am here but for a witness beliken. I am breeding of no broil, save
an' my gossip o' yesternight drew me into a tussle with old Split-Feet
and his company."
He groaned, but not without considerable effort, and his face puckered
in a heap at the recollection.
"What!--the foul fiend helped thee to thy liquor, I trow?" said Gamel,
hastily. "Think not to foist thy fooleries upon me. Should I find thee
with a lie on thy tongue, the hide were as well off thy shoulders. To
thy speech--quick, what sawest thou?"
"I will give it all, withouten a word but what the blessed saints would
avouch," said the terrified supplicant, whose once fiery face was now
blanched, or rather dyed of a dull and various blue.
"I was wending home from Merland, where I had been helping Dan the smith
to his luckpenny, when as I took the path-road down yonder unlucky hill
to the ford, not thinking of the de'il's workmen that had flown off with
the church the night before, I was whistling, or, it mayhap,
singing,--or--or--I am not just particular to know how it was, for the
matter of it; but at any rate I was getting up, having tumbled down the
steep almost nigh to the bottom, and I thought my eyes had strucken
fire, for I saw lights frisking and frolicking up and down the hill.
Then I sat down to watch, and, sure enough, such a puck-fisted rabble,
without cloak or hosen, I never beheld--all hurry-scurry up the hill,
and some of the like were on the gallop down again. They were shouting,
and mocking, and laughing, like so many stark-mad fools at a May-feast.
They strid twenty paces at a jump, with burdens that two of the best
oxen about the manor had not shifted the length of my thumbnail. 'Tis
some unlucky dream, said I, rubbing the corners of my eyes, and trying
to pinch myself awake. Just then I saw a crowd of the busiest of 'em
running up from the river, and making directly towards the steep bank
below where I sat. They were hurrying a great log of timber, which they
threw down close beside me, as if to rest ere they mounted. 'My
friends,'--what should ail me to talk to 'em I cannot tell,--'My
friends, but ye seem to have more work in your hands than wit in your
noddles--ye might have spared yourselves the labour, I trow.' With that
the whole rout turned upon me with a shout and a chattering that would
have dumbfounded the shrillest tongue in the whole hundred--the
mill-wheel was nothing to it. I would have escaped, but my feet were
holden like as they had been i' the stocks. One, the foremost of the
crew--I do think he had a long tail and gaping hoofs, but I was over
frightened to see very clear--came with a mocking malicious grin, his
tongue lolling out, and his eyes glaring and fiend-like.
"'Pray, good friend,' said he, pulling off a little black bonnet, 'be
compassionate enough to help us with our load to the hill-top.' Now was
I terrified beyond measure, insomuch that I made a desperate tug,
whereby loosening myself, I ran like the wind, the wicked fiends
following and roaring after me with loud and bitter curses. I jumped
into the river, in my hurry having missed the ford, and I heard 'em
still shouting, and, as I thought, pursuing me; but the Virgin and St
Chadde were my helpers, for when Biddy opened the door in the morning, I
lay there in a great swoon, with my head bruised, and a hole in my good
grey cloak."
"And so thou comest here a-boasting of thy drunken discoveries," said
the Thane. "Thou shalt wish thou hadst not gotten thee so soon from the
fiend's clutches. A spice of old Nicholas' vocation may not be amiss;
yet, by way of relish to thy tale"----
The agony of the culprit was loud and appalling, but the chief was
inexorable, until his denunciations were interrupted by a stranger, who
craved a short respite for the groaning supplicant.
He was meanly clad: a coarse cloak, stained and threadbare, was thrown
open, showing a close habit of the most ordinary fabric; yet a natural
and graceful bearing imparted a dignity even to his poor and worthless
habiliments.
"I am a stranger, and sore oppressed with long travel. Penury and
misfortune have been my lot, and I am driven from place to place without
a home or a morsel of bread. Last night, long after the curfew, I came
hither, but no _hospitium_ or religious house being near, I sat down by
the hill-side yonder, until morning should enable me to crave help for
my hopeless journey. The morning had not dawned ere I awoke--a loud
trampling, and a rush of many voices had broken in upon my slumbers. I
beheld crowds of strange-looking men, laden with terrific burdens. They
seemed to be eagerly and earnestly at work, under heavier loads than I
thought mortal man could sustain; the whole space too, as far as the eye
might carry, seemed alive with them, the flickering of their torches
forming a scene of almost unimaginable splendour. Right before me were a
number of these labourers, hauling up a heavy beam from the river;
others were apparently crossing, laden with materials no less bulky and
intractable. All were in motion, wriggling along like so many ants on a
hillock. The party just before me stayed immediately below where I sat,
watching their proceedings with no little curiosity and amazement. They
threw down their load,--then pausing, appeared to view with some
hesitation the steep bank above them. The foremost of the group now
came softly towards me. Pulling off his bonnet, with a grave and
beseeching aspect he craved help to accomplish the ascent. Not then
dreaming of goblins and their deceitful glamour, I put my shoulder to
the work with a right good will; and truly it were a marvel to watch the
tough beam, how it seemed to obey the impulse. I worked with all the
might I could muster, but it appeared as though little were needful; and
in a trice we scrambled to the top, when the whole party scampered off,
leaving me to follow or not, as I chose. I saw something tossed towards
me, which glistened as it lay at my feet. Stooping, I found a silver
ring, beauteously bedecked with one glowing crystal. Round the rim is
formed a quaint legend, bearing a fair device, which some learned clerk
may perchance decipher."
The stranger drew from his finger a massy ring. A little ferret-eyed
monk, a transcriber of saints' legends and Saxon chronicles, was
immediately called. He pronounced the writing heathenish, and of the
Runic form. A sort of free translation may be given as follows:--
"The Norman shall tread on the Saxon's heel,
And the stranger shall rule o'er England's weal;
Through castle and hall, by night or by day
The stranger shall thrive for ever and aye;
But in Rached, above the rest,
The stranger shall thrive best."
Gamel was troubled and perplexed. The words were prophetic, evidently
pointing to his own and his country's fate, as well as to the destiny of
the stranger. He knit his brows, and his very beard coiled upwards with
the conflict. He appeared loth to allow of a supernatural agency in the
affair, and yet the testimony and its witness were not to be gainsayed.
"I had not believed the tale, stranger, if this token had not confirmed
thy speech:--verily thou hast a better witness than a fool's tongue to
thy story. That ill-omened losel may depart. See thou fall not hastily
into the like offence, else shalt thou smart from Childermas to
All-hallowtide. Hence! to thy place." Barnulf awaited not further
dismissal, glad to escape the scrutiny of Nicholas with a whole skin.
A loud shriek was heard from the court-yard.
"My boy!--Oh, my boy!" cried the almost frantic mother, as she rushed
into the chamber, leading in Uctred. He had been discovered on removing
some of the huge piles of timber again from the hill, where, under a
curiously-supported covering of beams and other rude materials, he lay,
seemingly asleep. The urchin looked as malicious and froward as ever,
even when standing before his chief.
"And where hast thou been, my pretty bird?" said the old woman, as she
began her vocabulary of signs. But the boy looked surly and would not
answer to the signal: he drew down his black swarthy brows, looking
eagerly and fiercely from behind their bushy curtains. Suddenly, and
with a fearful yell, he sprang forward, snatching the ring which Gamel
was then giving back to the stranger. With a wild and hideous laugh,
which sent a shudder through the assembly, he drew it on his finger. At
this moment the expression of his countenance began to change, and some
of the bystanders, over whom fear had probably waved the wand of the
enchanter, saw his form dilate, and his whole figure expand into almost
gigantic proportions. A thick haze rolled through the apartment; then
was heard a wild unearthly shout, and the vision had disappeared.
"Seize him!" cried Gamel.
The guards, trembling, prepared to execute his commands, but on gaining
the outworks of the castle, no vestige remained of his appearance, save
a slight whirlwind of dust, like a mist-wreath curling down the valley,
which, to their terrified apprehensions, became the chariot of the
departing demon. Nothing could shake this belief; and in after ages the
boy was spoken of as a changeling, left by some fairy, whose appointed
sojourn had been then accomplished, the means for his release being
fulfilled. Old Cicely became nigh crazed with the loss of her son; but
Gamel, seriously pondering on these events, sought counsel from the
"Holy Church." It was therein resolved that the intended site should be
removed, and the "_unknown_" by such removal appeased. The chapel of St
Chadde was accordingly built on the hill-top, where the church now
stands, and unto which the foundations had been so marvellously
conveyed. One hundred and twenty-four steps were dug to accomplish the
ascent, and enable the good people to go to prayers. Connected with
these, the tradition still exists; and unto this day it is here
observed, that _"Strangers prosper in the town of Rochdale; but the
natives are generally unfortunate in their undertakings."_
[Illustration: MAB'S CROSS, WIGAN.
_Drawn by G. Pickering. Engraved by Edw^d Finden._]