The wedding-day came; the villagers flocked to the church; the ceremony took place; the bells rang out; and, according to our custom, the people fired their guns over the heads of the happy couple as they came out of the porch, on their way to the home of the bride’s father. All was perfect joy, but in another moment the joy was turned to horror, for as the young couple came from the north porch, and turned into the pathway leading round the foot of the old tower, a huge figure (it was Dutchy) sprang upon them, and like a flash of lightning struck them dead to the earth, before a hand could be raised to prevent it. The reeking knife he calmly wiped, and thrust into his waist-belt, and then stood glowering at the crowd, who kept at a very respectable distance from him. He told them of the hard-heartedness of the girl, and denounced her as she lay dead before him as an unfeeling creature, and bade them know that what he had done was his mode of revenge, or as he called it--Justice. But where was the bride’s father all this time? Well, he had been busy, as you shall hear. It is the custom of we Norfolkers to give what we call “largesses”[15] at marriages, comings of age, and suchlike; and on this occasion the old man had pervided hisself with a little leather poke filled with small silver coins, to throw among the assembled crowd, and indeed he was occerpied in so doing when the death of his daughter took place. He knew it was no use going for Dutchy single-handed, so he just stepped behind the porch and loaded his gun with a handful of silver groats, and when it was done sprang out, just when the giant had finished his speech, and was turning to leave the place unmolested by the onlookers. The old man shouted to him to stay or he would shoot; but, grasping the knife in his belt, the young fellow walked away, without taking any notice; whereupon the old man rushed after him, and aiming at his head, fired. “Der oldt man did shoot mit der gun right tro mine neck, and I seize him, and gif him fon stap mit my knife, and den I vas dedt mineself,” were the words of my uncanny companion. Whether he killed the old man I cannot say, but he himself was killed, and all this three hundred years ago! And this was the gentleman I was taking a walk with, much against my will, at night’s-noon, as we say. But then he went on with a lot more strange talk, about how he had a kind of holiday, or as we say frolic-time, ’lowanced out to him once every hundred years, on the annewersery of the day when all this piece of work took place; only he was not let loose, so to speak, till midnight, and then for only three hours. Well, I’d heard some tough uns before, and didn’t mind what I had heard; but them eyes!--when I looked up at his face they bowled me over altogether. He was no mortal, that I could take my davy on. For a little Dutchy walked in silence, and I found _my_ tongue and asked him if he didn’t fare cold, seeing he only had a kind of shirt on!