The Lancashire Witches by William Harrison Ainsworth

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The young man pressed his sister's hand, bade a tender farewell to
Alizon, and, infinitely relieved by the improvement which had taken
place in the former, and which he firmly believed would speedily lead to
her entire restoration, descended to the entrance-hall, where he found
Sir Ralph and Parson Dewhurst, who told him that Nicholas and Potts were
in the court-yard, and impatient to set out.

Shouts of laughter saluted the ears of the trio as they descended the
steps. The cause of the merriment was speedily explained when they
looked towards the stables, and beheld Potts struggling for mastery with
a stout Welsh pony, who showed every disposition, by plunging, kicking,
and rearing, to remove him from his seat, though without success, for
the attorney was not quite such a contemptible horseman as might be
imagined. A wicked-looking little fellow was Flint, with a rough,
rusty-black coat, a thick tail that swept the ground, a mane to match,
and an eye of mixed fire and cunning. When brought forth he had allowed
Potts to mount him quietly enough; but no sooner was the attorney
comfortably in possession, than he was served with a notice of
ejectment. Down went Flint's head and up went his heels; while on the
next instant he was rearing aloft, with his fore-feet beating the air,
so nearly perpendicular, that the chances seemed in favour of his coming
down on his back. Then he whirled suddenly round, shook himself
violently, threatened to roll over, and performed antics of the most
extraordinary kind, to the dismay of his rider, but to the infinite
amusement of the spectators, who were ready to split their sides with
laughter--indeed, tears fairly streamed down the squire's cheeks.
However, when Sir Ralph appeared, it was thought desirable to put an end
to the fun; and Peter, the groom, advanced to seize the restive little
animal's bridle, but, eluding the grasp, Flint started off at full
gallop, and, accompanied by the two blood-hounds, careered round the
court-yard, as if running in a ring. Vainly did poor Potts tug at the
bridle. Flint, having the bit firmly between his teeth, defied his
utmost efforts. Away he went with the hounds at his heels, as if, said
Nicholas, "the devil were behind him." Though annoyed and angry, Sir
Ralph could not help laughing at the ridiculous scene, and even a smile
crossed Parson Dewhurst's grave countenance as Flint and his rider
scampered madly past them. Sir Ralph called to the grooms, and attempts
were instantly made to check the furious pony's career; but he baffled
them all, swerving suddenly round when an endeavour was made to
intercept him, leaping over any trifling obstacle, and occasionally
charging any one who stood in his path. What with the grooms running
hither and thither, vociferating and swearing, the barking and springing
of the hounds, the yelping of lesser dogs, and the screaming of poultry,
the whole yard was in a state of uproar and confusion.

"Flint mun be possessed," cried Peter. "Ey never seed him go on i' this
way efore. Ey noticed Elizabeth Device near th' stables last neet, an ey
shouldna wonder if hoo ha' bewitched him."

"Neaw doubt on't," replied another groom. "Howsomever we mun contrive to
ketch him, or Sir Roaph win send us aw abowt our business.

"Ey wish yo'd contrive to do it, then, Tum Lomax," replied Peter, "fo'
ey'm fairly blowd. Dang me, if ey ever seed sich hey-go-mad wark i' my
born days. What's to be done, squoire?" he added to Nicholas.

"The devil only knows," replied the latter; "but it seems we must wait
till the little rascal chooses to stop."

This occurred sooner than was expected. Thinking, possibly, that he had
done enough to induce Master Potts to give up all idea of riding him,
Flint suddenly slackened his pace, and trotted, as if nothing had
happened, to the stable-door; but if he had formed any such notion as
the above, he was deceived, for the attorney, who was quite as obstinate
and wilful as himself, and who through all his perils had managed to
maintain his seat, was resolved not to abandon it, and positively
refused to dismount when urged to do so by Nicholas and the grooms.

"He will go quietly enough now, I dare say," observed Potts, "and if
not, and you will lend me a hunting-whip, I will undertake to cure him
of his tricks."

Flint seemed to understand what was said, for he laid back his ears as
if meditating more mischief; but being surrounded by the grooms, he
deemed it advisable to postpone the attempt to a more convenient
opportunity. In compliance with his request, a heavy hunting-whip was
handed to Potts, and, armed with this formidable weapon, the little
attorney quite longed for an opportunity of effacing his disgrace.
Meanwhile, Sir Ralph had come up and ordered a steady horse out for him;
but Master Potts adhered to his resolution, and Flint remaining
perfectly quiet, the baronet let him have his own way.

Soon after this, Nicholas and Richard having mounted their steeds, the
party set forth. As they were passing through the gateway, which had
been thrown wide open by Ned Huddlestone, they were joined by Simon
Sparshot, who had been engaged by Potts to attend him on the expedition
in his capacity of constable. Simon was mounted on a mule, and brought
word that Master Roger Nowell begged they would ride round by Read Hall,
where he would be ready to accompany them, as he wished to be present at
the perambulation of the boundaries. Assenting to the arrangement, the
party set forth in that direction, Richard and Nicholas riding a little
in advance of the others.

CHAPTER II.--READ HALL.

The road taken by the party on quitting Whalley led up the side of a
hill, which, broken into picturesque inequalities, and partially clothed
with trees, sloped down to the very brink of the Calder. Winding round
the broad green plain, heretofore described, with the lovely knoll in
the midst of it, and which formed, with the woody hills encircling it, a
perfect amphitheatre, the river was ever an object of beauty--sometimes
lost beneath over-hanging boughs or high banks, anon bursting forth
where least expected, now rushing swiftly over its shallow and rocky
bed, now subsiding into a smooth full current. The Abbey and the village
were screened from view by the lower part of the hill which the horsemen
were scaling; but the old bridge and a few cottages at the foot of
Whalley Nab, with their thin blue smoke mounting into the pure morning
air, gave life and interest to the picture. Hence, from base to summit,
Whalley Nab stood revealed, and the verdant lawns opening out amidst the
woods feathering its heights, were fully discernible. Placed by Nature
as the guardian of this fair valley, the lofty eminence well became the
post assigned to it. None of the belt of hills connected with it were so
well wooded as their leader, nor so beautiful in form; while some of
them were overtopped by the bleak fells of Longridge, rising at a
distance behind them.

Nor were those exquisite contrasts wanting, which are only to be seen in
full perfection when the day is freshest and the dew is still heavy on
the grass. The near side of the hill was plunged in deep shade; thin,
gauzy vapour hung on the stream beneath, while on the opposite heights,
and where the great boulder stones were visible in the bed of the river,
all was sparkling with sunshine. So enchanting was the prospect, that
though perfectly familiar with it, the two foremost horsemen drew in the
rein to contemplate it. High above them, on a sandbank, through which
their giant roots protruded, shot up two tall silver-stemm'd
beech-trees, forming with their newly opened foliage a canopy of
tenderest green. Further on appeared a grove of oaks scarcely in leaf;
and below were several fine sycamores, already green and umbrageous,
intermingled with elms, ashes, and horse-chestnuts, and overshadowing
brakes, covered with maples, alders, and hazels. The other spaces among
the trees were enlivened by patches of yellow flowering and odorous
gorse. Mixed with the warblings of innumerable feathered songsters were
heard the cheering notes of the cuckoo; and the newly-arrived swallows
were seen chasing the flies along the plain, or skimming over the
surface of the river. Already had Richard's depression yielded to the
exhilarating freshness of the morning, and the same kindly influence
produced a more salutary effect on Nicholas than Parson Dewhurst's
lecture had been able to accomplish. The worthy squire was a true lover
of Nature; admiring her in all her forms, whether arrayed in pomp of
wood and verdure, as in the lovely landscape before him, or dreary and
desolate, as in the heathy forest wastes they were about to traverse.
While breathing the fresh morning air, inhaling the fragrance of the
wild-flowers, and listening to the warbling of the birds, he took a
well-pleased survey of the scene, commencing with the bridge, passing
over Whalley Nab and the mountainous circle conjoined with it, till his
gaze settled on Morton Hall, a noble mansion finely situated on a
shoulder of the hill beyond him, and commanding the entire valley.

"Were I not owner of Downham," he observed to Richard, "I should wish to
be master of Morton." And then, pointing to the green area below, he
added, "What a capital spot for a race! There we might try the speed of
our nags for the twenty pieces I talked of yesterday; and the judges of
the match and those who chose to look on might station themselves on
yon knoll, which seems made for the express purpose. Three years ago I
remember a fair was held upon that plain, and the foot-races, the
wrestling matches, and the various sports and pastimes of the rustics,
viewed from the knoll, formed the prettiest sight ever looked upon. But,
pleasant as the prospect is, we must not tarry here all day."

Before setting forward, he cast a glance towards Pendle Hill, which
formed the most prominent object of view on the left, and lay like a
leviathan basking in the sunshine. The vast mass rose up gradually until
at its further extremity it attained an altitude of more than 1800 feet
above the sea. At the present moment it was without a cloud, and the
whole of its broad outline was distinctly visible.

"I love Pendle Hill," cried Nicholas, enthusiastically; "and from
whatever side I view it--whether from this place, where I see it from
end to end, from its lowest point to its highest; from Padiham, where it
frowns upon me; from Clithero, where it smiles; or from Downham, where
it rises in full majesty before me--from all points and under all
aspects, whether robed in mist or radiant with sunshine, I delight in
it. Born beneath its giant shadow, I look upon it with filial regard.
Some folks say Pendle Hill wants grandeur and sublimity, but they
themselves must be wanting in taste. Its broad, round, smooth mass is
better than the roughest, craggiest, shaggiest, most sharply splintered
mountain of them all. And then what a view it commands!--Lancaster with
its grey old castle on one hand; York with its reverend minster on the
other--the Irish Sea and its wild coast--fell, forest, moor, and valley,
watered by the Ribble, the Hodder, the Calder, and the Lime--rivers not
to be matched for beauty. You recollect the old distich--

'Ingleborough, Pendle Hill, and Pennygent,
Are the highest hills between Scotland and Trent.'

This vouches for its height, but there are two other doggerel lines
still more to the purpose--

'Pendle Hill, Pennygent, and Ingleborough,
Are three such hills as you'll not find by seeking England
thorough.'

With this opinion I quite agree. There is no hill in England like Pendle
Hill."

"Every man to his taste, squire," observed Potts; "but to my mind,
Pendle Hill has no other recommendation than its size. I think it a
great, brown, ugly, lumpy mass, without beauty of form or any striking
character. I hate your bleak Lancashire hills, with heathy ranges on the
top, fit only for the sustenance of a few poor half-starved sheep; and
as to the view from them, it is little else than a continuous range of
moors and dwarfed forests. Highgate Hill is quite mountain enough for
me, and Hampstead Heath wild enough for any civilised purpose."

"A veritable son of Cockayne!" muttered Nicholas, contemptuously.

Riding on, and entering the grove of oaks, he lost sight of his
favourite hill, though glimpses were occasionally caught through the
trees of the lovely valley below. Soon afterwards the party turned off
on the left, and presently arrived at a gate which admitted them to Read
Park. Five minutes' canter over the springy turf then brought them to
the house.

The manor of Reved or Read came into the possession of the Nowell family
in the time of Edward III., and extended on one side, within a mile of
Whalley, from which township it was divided by a deep woody ravine,
taking its name from the little village of Sabden, and on the other
stretched far into Pendle Forest. The hall was situated on an eminence
forming part of the heights of Padiham, and faced a wide valley, watered
by the Calder, and consisting chiefly of barren tracts of moor and
forest land, bounded by the high hills near Accrington and Rossendale.
On the left, some half-dozen miles off, lay Burnley, and the greater
part of the land in this direction, being uninclosed and thinly peopled,
had a dark dreary look, that served to enhance the green beauty of the
well-cultivated district on the right. Behind the mansion, thick woods
extended to the very confines of Pendle Forest, of which, indeed, they
originally formed part, and here, if the course of the stream, flowing
through the gully of Sabden, were followed, every variety of brake,
glen, and dingle, might be found. Read Hall was a large and commodious
mansion, forming, with a centre and two advancing wings, three sides of
a square, between which was a grass-plot ornamented with a dial. The
gardens were laid out in the taste of the time, with trim alleys and
parterres, terraces and steps, stone statues, and clipped yews.

The house was kept up well and consistently by its owner, who lived like
a country gentleman with a good estate, entertained his friends
hospitably, but without any parade, and was never needlessly lavish in
his expenditure, unless, perhaps, in the instance of the large
ostentatious pew erected by him in the parish church of Whalley; and
which, considering he had a private chapel at home, and maintained a
domestic chaplain to do duty in it, seemed little required, and drew
upon him the censure of the neighbouring gossips, who said there was
more of pride than religion in his pew. With the chapel at the hall a
curious history was afterwards connected. Converted into a dining-room
by a descendant of Roger Nowell, the apartment was incautiously occupied
by the planner of the alterations before the plaster was thoroughly
dried; in consequence of which he caught a severe cold, and died in the
desecrated chamber, his fate being looked upon as a judgment.

With many good qualities Roger Nowell was little liked. His austere and
sarcastic manner repelled his equals, and his harshness made him an
object of dislike and dread among his inferiors. Besides being the
terror of all evil-doers, he was a hard man in his dealings, though he
endeavoured to be just, and persuaded himself he was so. A year or two
before, having been appointed sheriff of the county, he had discharged
the important office with so much zeal and ability, as well as
liberality, that he rose considerably in public estimation. It was
during this period that Master Potts came under his notice at Lancaster,
and the little attorney's shrewdness gained him an excellent client in
the owner of Read. Roger Newell was a widower; but his son, who resided
with him, was married, and had a family, so that the hall was fully
occupied.

Roger Nowell was turned sixty, but he was still in the full vigour of
mind and body, his temperate and active habits keeping him healthy; he
was of a spare muscular frame, somewhat bent in the shoulders, and had
very sharp features, keen grey eyes, a close mouth, and prominent chin.
His hair was white as silver, but his eyebrows were still black and
bushy.

Seeing the party approach, the lord of the mansion came forth to meet
them, and begged them to dismount for a moment and refresh themselves.
Richard excused himself, but Nicholas sprang from his saddle, and Potts,
though somewhat more slowly, imitated his example. An open door admitted
them to the entrance hall, where a repast was spread, of which the host
pressed his guests to partake; but Nicholas declined on the score of
having just breakfasted, notwithstanding which he was easily prevailed
upon to take a cup of ale. Leaving him to discuss it, Nowell led the
attorney to a well-furnished library, where he usually transacted his
magisterial business, and held a few minutes' private conference with
him, after which they returned to Nicholas, and by this time the
magistrate's own horse being brought round, the party mounted once more.
The attorney regretted abandoning his seat; for Flint indulged him with
another exhibition somewhat similar to the first, though of less
duration, for a vigorous application of the hunting-whip brought the
wrong-headed little animal to reason.

Elated by the victory he had obtained over Flint, and anticipating a
successful issue to the expedition, Master Potts was in excellent
spirits, and found a great deal to admire in the domain of his honoured
and singular good client. Though not very genuine, his admiration was
deservedly bestowed. The portion of the park they were now traversing
was extremely diversified and beautiful, with long sweeping lawns
studded with fine trees, among which were many ancient thorns, now in
full bloom, and richly scenting the gale. Herds of deer were nipping the
short grass, browsing the lower spray of the ashes, or couching amid the
ferny hollows.

It was now that Nicholas, who had been all along anxious to try the
speed of his horse, proposed to Richard a gallop towards a clump of
trees about a mile off, and the young man assenting, away they started.
Master Potts started too, for Flint did not like to be left behind, but
the mettlesome pony was soon distanced. For some time the two horses
kept so closely together, that it was difficult to say which would
arrive at the goal first; but, by-and-by, Robin got a-head. Though at
first indifferent to the issue of the race, the spirit of emulation soon
seized upon Richard, and spurring Merlin, the noble animal sprang
forward, and was once again by the side of his opponent.

For a quarter of a mile the ground had been tolerably level, and the sod
firm; but they now approached a swamp, and, in his eagerness, Nicholas
did not take sufficient precaution, and got involved in it before he was
aware. Richard was more fortunate, having kept on the right, where the
ground was hard. Seeing Nicholas struggling out of the marshy soil, he
would have stayed for him; but the latter bade him go on, saying he
would soon be up with him, and he made good his words. Shortly after
this their course was intercepted by a brook, and both horses having
cleared it excellently, they kept well together again for a short time,
when they neared a deep dyke which lay between them and the clump of
trees. On descrying it, Richard pointed out a course to the left, but
Nicholas held on, unheeding the caution. Fully expecting to see him
break his neck, for the dyke was of formidable width, Richard watched
him with apprehension, but the squire gave him a re-assuring nod, and
went on. Neither horse nor man faltered, though failure would have been
certain destruction to both. The wide trench now yawned before
them--they were upon its edge, and without trusting himself to measure
it with his eye, Nicholas clapped spurs into Robin's sides. The brave
horse sprang forward and landed him safely on the opposite bank.
Hallooing cheerily, as soon as he could check his courser the squire
wheeled round, and rode back to look at the dyke he had crossed. Its
width was terrific, and fairly astounded him. Robin snorted loudly, as
if proud of his achievement, and showed some disposition to return, but
the squire was quite content with what he had done. The exploit
afterwards became a theme of wonder throughout the country, and the spot
was long afterwards pointed out as "Squire Nicholas's Leap"; but there
was not another horseman found daring enough to repeat the experiment.

Richard had to make a considerable circuit to join his cousin, and,
while he was going round, Nicholas looked out for the others. In the
distance, he could see Roger Nowell riding leisurely on, followed by
Sparshot and a couple of grooms, who had come with their master from the
hall; while midway, to his surprise, he perceived Flint galloping
without a rider. A closer examination showed the squire what had
happened. Like himself, Master Potts had incautiously approached the
swamp, and, getting entangled in it, was thrown, head foremost, into the
slough; out of which he was now floundering, covered from head to foot
with inky-coloured slime. As soon as they were aware of the accident,
the two grooms pushed forward, and one of them galloped after Flint,
whom he succeeded at last in catching; while the other, with difficulty
preserving his countenance at the woful plight of the attorney, who
looked as black as a negro, pointed out a cottage in the hollow which
belonged to one of the keepers, and offered to conduct him thither.
Potts gladly assented, and soon gained the little tenement, where he was
being washed and rubbed down by a couple of stout wenches when the rest
of the party came up. It was impossible to help laughing at him, but
Potts took the merriment in good part; and, to show he was not
disheartened by the misadventure, as soon as circumstances would permit
he mounted the unlucky pony, and the cavalcade set forward again.

CHAPTER III.--THE BOGGART'S GLEN.

The manor of Read, it has been said, was skirted by a deep woody ravine
of three or four miles in length, extending from the little village of
Sabden, in Pendle Forest, to within a short distance of Whalley; and
through this gully flowed a stream which, taking its rise near Barley,
at the foot of Pendle Hill, added its waters to those of the Calder at a
place called Cock Bridge. In summer, or in dry seasons, this stream
proceeded quietly enough, and left the greater part of its stony bed
unoccupied; but in winter, or after continuous rains, it assumed all the
character of a mountain torrent, and swept every thing before it. A
narrow bridle road led through the ravine to Sabden, and along it, after
quitting the park, the cavalcade proceeded, headed by Nicholas.

The little river danced merrily past them, singing as it went, the
sunshine sparkling on its bright clear waters, and glittering on the
pebbles beneath them. Now the stream would chafe and foam against some
larger impediment to its course; now it would dash down some rocky
height, and form a beautiful cascade; then it would hurry on for some
time with little interruption, till stayed by a projecting bank it would
form a small deep basin, where, beneath the far-cast shadow of an
overhanging oak, or under its huge twisted and denuded roots, the angler
might be sure of finding the speckled trout, the dainty greyling, or
their mutual enemy, the voracious jack. The ravine was well wooded
throughout, and in many parts singularly beautiful, from the disposition
of the timber on its banks, as well as from the varied form and
character of the trees. Here might be seen an acclivity covered with
waving birch, or a top crowned with a mountain ash--there, on a smooth
expanse of greensward, stood a range of noble elms, whose mighty arms
stretched completely across the ravine. Further on, there were chestnut
and walnut trees; willows, with hoary stems and silver leaves, almost
encroaching upon the stream; larches upon the heights; and here and
there, upon some sandy eminence, a spreading beech-tree. For the most
part the bottom of the glen was overgrown with brushwood, and, where its
sides were too abrupt to admit the growth of larger trees, they were
matted with woodbine and brambles. Out of these would sometimes start a
sharp pinnacle, or fantastically-formed crag, adding greatly to the
picturesque beauty of the scene. On such points were not unfrequently
found perched a hawk, a falcon, or some large bird of prey; for the
gully, with its brakes and thickets, was a favourite haunt of the
feathered tribe. The hollies, of which there were plenty, with their
green prickly leaves and scarlet berries, afforded shelter and support
to the blackbird; the thorns were frequented by the thrush; and
numberless lesser songsters filled every other tree. In the covert there
were pheasants and partridges in abundance, and snipe and wild-fowl
resorted to the river in winter. Thither also, at all seasons, repaired
the stately heron, to devour the finny race; and thither came, on like
errand, the splendidly-plumed kingfisher. The magpie chattered, the jay
screamed and flew deeper into the woods as the horsemen approached, and
the shy bittern hid herself amid the rushes. Occasionally, too, was
heard the deep ominous croaking of a raven.