Abbeychurch; Or, Self-Control and Self-ConceitYonge, Charlotte M. (Charlotte Mary)
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Abbeychurch; Or, Self-Control and Self-Conceit
Yonge, Charlotte M. (Charlotte Mary)
English fiction -- 19th century; Religious fiction
'Then listen, listen, ladies all,' said Rupert. 'You must know that
once upon a time there was a most beautiful princess, who lived in a
splendid castle, where she received all kinds of company. Well, one
day, there arrived an old grim palmer, just like the picture of
Hopeful, in the Pilgrim's Progress, with a fine striped cockle-shell
sticking upright in his hat-band. Well, the cockle-shell tickled the
Princess's fancy very much, and she made her pet knight (for she had as
many suitors as Penelope) promise that he would steal it from him that
very night. So at the witching hour of midnight, the knight approached
the palmer's couch, and gently abstracted the cockle hat and staff,
placing in their stead, the jester's cap and bells, and bauble. Next
morning when it was pitch dark, for it was the shortest day, up jumped
the palmer, and prepared to resume his journey. Now it chanced that
the day before, the lady had ordered that the fool should be whipped,
for mocking her, when she could not get the marrow neatly out of a bone
with her fingers, and peeped into it like a hungry magpie; so that the
moment the poor palmer appeared in the court-yard, all the squires and
pages set upon him, taking him for the fool, and whipped him round and
round like any peg-top. Suddenly, down fell the cap and bells, and he
saw what had been done; upon which he immediately turned into an
enchanter, and commanded the Princess and all her train to fall into a
deep sleep, all excepting the knight who had committed the offence, who
is for ever riding up and down the castle court, repenting of his
discourtesy, with his face towards the tail of a cream-coloured donkey,
wearing a cap and bells for a helmet, with a rod for a lance, and a
cockle-shell for a shield, and star-fishes for spurs, and the Princess
can only be disenchanted by her devoted champion doing battle with him.
All, however, has vanished away from vulgar eyes, and can only be
brought to light by being thrice whistled for. A slight tradition has
remained, and the place has ever since been known by the mysterious
name of Whistlefar.'
'And has no one ever found it?' said Dora.
'I cannot say,' answered Rupert.
'A deed of such high emprise can only be reserved for the great Prince
Rupert himself,' said Elizabeth.
'How can such nonsensical traditions be kept up?' said Harriet; 'I
thought everyone had forgotten such absurd old stories, only fit to
frighten children.'
'Oh! you know nobody believes them,' said Katherine.
'But, Rupert,' said Helen, 'this must be a modern story, it cannot be a
genuine old legend, it is really not according to the spirit of those
times to say that a palmer could be an enchanter, or so revengeful.'
'Oh!' said Rupert, 'you know everything bad is to be learnt among the
Saracens.'
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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