English literature -- England -- Lancashire; Legends -- England -- Lancashire
"Begone, sot!" was the abrupt reply, not over-abundantly expressive of
good humour at this disturbance. Will looked again towards the flagon;
but great was his dismay on beholding it in the very act of disemboguing
its precious contents into another gulf as insatiable as his own. Ralph
Newcome, incited thereto by his own discrimination, together with the
resistless relish of their guide, as soon as the latter had partially
concluded, took up the subject, and long, powerful, and undeviating were
the requisitions that he made.
"Plague on thy civility!--A fly will drink from anybody's cup, and so
will a Yorkshireman," growled the uncourteous churl.
Ralph had, however, braced himself tightly to the task, and stood with
an air of dogged defiance, stoutly confronting his accuser,--though,
being a man of few words, the principal weight of the argument rested
upon Will, whose eloquence was with difficulty interrupted on any
subject.
"Peace," said one of the sleepers, raising himself half-way,--"I think
we be like to bide here till our bones rot. There's nought but the same
dun sky,--black, black, and unchanging. I should like to see a stiff
blaze from some quarter. Our bundle, here, would soon be in a low."
"Hark!" said the other, "'tis something creaking amongst the faggots."
The sentinel rushed out, but the beacon was undisturbed.
"St Mary protect us!--'Tis the same noise I heard last night, and about
the same hour."
The stranger here entered the hut. Enveloped in a huge cloak, he sate
silent, and apparently inattentive; but the conversation was now abrupt,
and broken down into short and interrupted whispers.
"I wish old Hal and his wives were here, with all my heart," said one:
"we'd have a rare bonfire. How his fat paunch would swell! But for him
and his unlucky women, we had been snug in the chimney-corner, snoring
out psalmody, or helping old Barn'by off with the tit-bits in the
kitchen."
"Hush!" said his neighbour: "there be the faggots talking again. I think
they are bewitched.--Dan, look to them."
"Nay," said Dan, "they may bide awhile for me."
The words were scarcely uttered when the building seemed in a blaze.
Crash upon crash followed. The inmates, stupified with terror, were well
nigh suffocated ere their astonishment left them the power to escape.
In the full conviction that the foul fiend had taken him at his word,
Dan was dragged from the hut, wan, speechless, and gasping with
affright. Nothing less, too, than a visit from his Satanic majesty in
person was expected by the terrified rustics.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
Reviews
Reviews
No reviews yet
Be the first to share your thoughts on this work.
Elsewhere in the archive
Join the Discussion
Join the discussion
Sign in to leave a comment or review.
Sign InorCreate an account