So the people of Bewdley were once saved from destruction by a drunken cobbler, who foregather'd with the man of sin, as the latter was travelling with a spadeful of earth to dam up the Severn, and thereby inundate the country. The devil had lost his way, and inquired of the cobbler, who, smelling sulphur, and foreseeing annihilation to all his customers at Bewdley, coolly assured the father of lies that the distance to that town was so great that he had worn out a whole lot of shoes he carried in a bag at his back. Whereupon the fallen spirit at once dropped the earth, and there remains to this day the hill called "The Devil's Spadeful," or "Spittleful." A similar legend prevails in many counties, especially in reference to the Wrekin and High Ercall Hills, Shropshire, and "Robin Hood's Butts," Herefordshire. Near Little Shelsley grows a plant called "Devil's-bit" (_Succisa pratensis_), which it is said was given to heal any deadly wounds, but as the devil saw how many wicked persons were thus rescued from his grasp, he bit the roots off this plant, whereupon it miraculously grew without them, and follows up the habit to this day. In Bretforton church is the legend of "Maid Margaret" carved on one of the north pillars. It is said that a nun, being tempted by the devil, resisted, and was devoured by him, whereupon the holy sister, who always went armed with a cross, used it with such effect, that the evil one burst asunder, and she emerged. Oliver Cromwell's compact with the devil, before the battle of Worcester, has been a favourite fable probably ever since the restoration of Charles II. Echard, the rev. historian, condescends to propagate the fable, that Cromwell, on the morning that he defeated the king's army, had conference personally with the devil in Perry Wood, and made a contract with him, that to have his will then, and in all things else for seven years from that day (he unsuccessfully proposed twenty-one or fourteen years), he should, at the expiration of the said term, have him at his command, to do at his pleasure, both with his soul and body. A valiant officer called Lindsay, an intimate friend of Cromwell's, is said to have been so horror-struck at the interview, that he fled from the battle that day, escaped to a friend's house at Norfolk, and foretold Cromwell's death would happen in seven years, which accordingly so happened on the anniversary day of the battle.