Traditions and Hearthside Stories of West Cornwall, Second SeriesBottrell, William
General
Traditions and Hearthside Stories of West Cornwall, Second Series
Bottrell, William
Cornwall (England : County) -- Social life and customs; Legends -- England -- Cornwall (County)
Grace became very dissatisfied after this vision of grandeur,
and never gave her mother any peace till she consented for her
to go in service next summer. She was the more ready to let
Grace try her fortune away, as other daughters were growing up
to help her. So, during winter, she and her mother spun and
knitted for dear life that they might earn a few extra shillings to
provide changes of under clothing against she set out to look
for service.
For weeks Grace had been going round saying good-bye to the
neighbours, and she rose one fine morning and gave the last kiss,
and said, "I wish 'e well, for the last time," to all the family
round. Her father, on parting, charged her not to go more than
a day's journey from home, and be sure to keep far away from
Penzance or any town, for fear she should be kidnapped, and
they should nevermore see her. He told her how strange sailors,
that frequented such places, often prowled about for miles, and
no maiden was safe within their reach. Grace promised to be on
her guard, took her fardel, and started on her journey towards
the southern parishes where gentlemen farmers lived.
On her way she thought upon what her smart cousin had told
her to go over to the other side of the country, get into good
farmer's service, where she might soon qualify herself to live in
a gentleman's house and get higher wages. She had advised her
not to pay much heed to what old folks said in their fears, about[175]
conjurors, witches, small people, and such like, that are seldom
met with now-a-days. "Up here amongst the hills you know
but little of the world," said the cousin, "and your old drolls
arn't altogether to be believed." Grace couldn't help going out
of her way a little to take a last look of Carn Kenidjack, where
she had passed many happy hours, for youngsters were accustomed
to meet there of Sunday afternoons to play about amongst the
rocks or listen to old folks' stories. Then she went on with a
pretty good heart till she reached high ground, from which she
could only just see the smoke curling over the house-tops below.
She turned round, took a farewell look, her eyes blinded with
tears; then she went a little farther and sat down on a rock by
the road-side, to have a good cry and ease her heart.
She wept aloud to think she was going to an unknown country
to live amongst strangers—that she might nevermore behold her
parents and old playmates. But still, determined to go on, even
if she went as far as daylight would take her, she dried her eyes
with her apron; and, looking up, she saw standing close beside
her a very nice-looking gentleman. He wished her good morrow
and asked why she wept.
"Oh, sir, I have left home," she replied, "and am on the road
to a strange country to look for service."
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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