Lo! the moss-pool sudden flies, In another spot to rise; And the scanty-grown plantation, Finds another situation, And a more congenial soil, Without needing woodman's toil. Now the warren moves--and see! How the burrowing rabbits flee, Hither, thither till they find it, With another brake behind it. Ho! ho! 'tis a merry sight Thou hast given the hag to-night. Lo! new lines the witch is tracing, Every well-known mark effacing, Elsewhere, other bounds erecting, So the old there's no detecting. Ho! ho! 'tis a pastime quite, Thou hast given the hag to-night! The hind at eve, who wander'd o'er The dreary waste of Pendle Moor, Shall wake at dawn, and in surprise, Doubt the strange sight that meets his eyes. The pathway leading to his hut Winds differently,--the gate is shut. The ruin on the right that stood. Lies on the left, and nigh the wood; The paddock fenced with wall of stone, Wcll-stock'd with kine, a mile hath flown, The sheepfold and the herd are gone. Through channels new the brooklet rushes, Its ancient course conceal'd by bushes. Where the hollow was, a mound Rises from the upheaved ground. Doubting, shouting with surprise, How the fool stares, and rubs his eyes! All's so changed, the simple elf Fancies he is changed himself! Ho! ho! 'tis a merry sight The hag shall have when dawns the light. But see! she halts and waves her hand. All is done as thou hast plann'd." After a moment's pause the voice added, "I have done as thou hast will'd-- Now be thy path straight fulfill'd." "It shall be," replied Mistress Nutter, whose features gleamed with fierce exultation. "Bring forth the proselyte!" she shouted. And at the words, her swarthy serving-man, Blackadder, came forth from the Lacy chapel, leading Jennet by the hand. They were followed by Tib, who, dilated to twice his former size, walked with tail erect, and eyes glowing like carbuncles. At sight of her daughter a loud cry of rage and astonishment burst from Elizabeth Device, and, rushing forward, she would have seized her, if Tib had not kept her off by a formidable display of teeth and talons. Jennet made no effort to join her mother, but regarded her with a malicious and triumphant grin. "This is my chilt," screamed Elizabeth. "She canna be baptised without my consent, an ey refuse it. Ey dunna want her to be a witch--at least not yet awhile. What mays yo here, yo little plague?" "Ey wur brought here, mother," replied Jennet, with affected simplicity.