Pauper and Felon

Chapter I. The Stately Homes Of England

" 'Tis a happy thing To be a father unto many sons.': Shakspere. TT was November, and the weather was fully in *• keeping with the time of year. It was such November weather that even the annals of bleak and dreary Dartmoor can furnish few seasons when it was rougher or even as rough as it was on the night of which I write. The wind soughed and roared over, through, and on each side of the rough tors, which are so plentiful on that wild, weird and barren wilderness which Devonians are so proud of, and which they delight in trying to persuade themselves into loving with the zeal with which Sir Walter Scott loved his native heather. Dartmoor is without doubt as wild and romantic as the most ardent lovers of the picturesque can desire, but it is only on a wild, stormy winter's night that it can be viewed in all its glory.

Then is the time for its most ardent votaries to perform their acts of worship, and half of its wild beauty would be shorn off, were the worship to be performed other than in the open air. Then, indeed, the witches in Macbeth might easily find another charm of powerful trouble in the raging of the fierce elements. The wind at such times is strong, and will not allow without strong remonstrance any opposition to its will. There is a single road across the moor. Houses, or rather dwellings were few and far between. The moorland habitations, at the time of which I write, consisted only of a single apartment, covered with thatch, and the bare beams and rafters stared omin ously at the occupants as they moved about or slum bered on the rude beds. In travelling across the moor, it is necessary to keep to the road.

Any digression either to the right or to the left will in all probability lead the wayfarer into bogs or morasses covered with a delicate growth of the brightest ver dure, and once there the weight of the body causes it to sink deep, deep down, until the whole body is submerged. At night when the sun does not deign to show a single gleam of light, the treacherous will o' the wisp shows its dancing light to beguile the unwary wanderer on to his ruin. The few inhabitants whose dwellings are scattered about with great distances intervening were very superstitious. They believed that these bogs had been created, and were still inhabited by evil spirits, very small in stature, and of surpassing ugliness, and that they took an especial delight in punishing and tantalising human beings in various ways, and that when once a mortal came into their possession they lost no time in taking him or her to their cavernous abodes under the bogs where they were compelled to work day and night without ceasing accompanied by the elfish laughs, which burst forth in little short ha, ha, ha's. It was said that the vibrations of the bogs, so common on the moor were caused by the pixies underneath, dancing and bobbing up and down, so that a vibrating bog was always given a wide berth.

Another trick of these mischievous little sprites was the stealing of babies. If a baby was born and they got to know it, they would come at midnight of the day on which it was born and take it away, leaving one of the ugliest of their demons in its place. Then, again, there were bits of wall built up here and there, work done by these same pixies, but as they always began their buildings on their own ground, the bogs, they could never succeed in making them very high. If they could it was supposed that they would immediately subdue all mortals and make them slaves, build a city and rule the world. These little sprites were also known to be very clean and orderly. If a housewife were dirty these little people would come nightly, enter the house by the keyhole, and then they would wash, scrub, scour, laughing their peculiar ha, ha, ha's the while.

No one who had re ceived these visits could hope to have them discontinued save by anticipating their visits and having everything clean and in its proper place before dark or by making them a present after their task had been accomplished. All these pranks of the pixies were bad enough, but they possessed a still greater power over mortals. A man crossing the moor in the dark was often guided or led astray by them. If he hap pened to be drunk when the pixies took him in hand he was sure to have a hard time of it. They not un frequently stripped him naked and beat him black and blue, then dressed him up in his clothes again, but were careful to turn them inside out. Then they would make the traveller go over the same ground over and over again until he found himself in a laby rinth worse than that of Minos.

The one conso lation for the misguided wretch was that if they did not get full possession of him before midnight he would be safe afterwards while the hour of midnight itself wa the most dangerous of all. It is no wonder then that the superstitious inhabitants were full of stories of adventures and narrow escapes not less than of potent charms for the mastery of these demons of the bog. It was a November night in the year 1S51. It was rough, and therefore a high festival day for pixies. I am to tell you a story, and it will prove rougher than the raging of the elements which fought, buffeted, ill used all who came into contact with it, but with a generous heart under its rough exterior, it brought a vigorous glow to the cheek, a warmth to the heart, a genial sunshine into the soul, a thoughtful feeling for his fellow-man, a hopefulness for the future and a certainty of repose when the contention had been passed — a widely different result from that achieved by men in battling with the stormy passions of their fellows.

On the night of which I have been writing, I made my entrance into this world of woe. My father had returned from his day's work at the quarries and had posted off to the town, or rather large village of More ton, just three miles distant. Pie was inured to the roughness of the weather, yet he had not deemed it safe to set out without encasing himself in a heavy overcoat, thick sou'wester with the ear flaps tied firmly under his chin, while around his neck he had a heavy wool comforter, and on his feet were his thick water-tight boots. Thus equipped he could bid defiance to the wind and rain were it not that blowing as it did on his homeward journey, full in his face, it often caused him to stagger and always impeded his progress. Our traveller, looking ahead after an hour's battling with wind and rain, espied what seemed to be a single house, and that a blacksmith's shop, standing close by the wayside.

On the other side of the shop, contig uous to it and nearly out of sight was another and smaller little cottage, nestling beside its larger and more pretentious neighbour just like the foal of a moorland pony nestles at its mother's side for protection. On the outside of this hut, in fact, just outside the little garden gate, was a little rude winch, attached to which was a bucket, and under the winch was a well, covered loosely with a cover, to which the winch rope and bucket were very necessary appendages. This well with the ingenuity so common in the world was placed directly in the front of the only entrance to the cottage, a very wise arrangement since it pro vided a sure prospect of future work for the doctor, coroner, undertaker, grave-digger, parson and other disinterested trades or professions, while it enabled the parents to be economical in the products of the tailor, shoemaker, miller and baker, and other interested trades equally numerous.

Such a wise arrangement of the architect of this poor man's castle ! Through the tiny skiver gate the poor man dragged his weary limbs, through the low blackthorn hedge, up the narrow path which led to the cottage door. At the right of this door was a stack of dried vags, that is the surface turf of the moor, stacked away for the winter's fuel. By the arrangement of the same all-wise architect, the only place available for this rick was in front of the house and placed in such a way as to ob scure the light from the two solitary windows of the cottage. Such a wise provision of the architect afore said ! Perhaps he was a student of Roman History, and remembered well how Regulus had suffered untold agonies on account of his sudden accession to the full light of day, and had, in consequence, determined that the inhabitants of the moor should not suffer in the same manner.

Now my father entered the dwelling. The latch of the door was lifted by pulling a string on the outside, and through the numerous cracks and crannies of door, cob-walls and disordered thatch, the inmates always obtained a plentiful supply of the fresh bracing air of Dartmoor. On the door being opened, a gust of wind sent the door wide open with a bang and carried the tired master of the house half-way across the single downstairs' room in a trice. He kept his feet with much difficulty. To a lady it would have been im possible. He hastened back as best he could and latched the door, being very careful to see that the latch descended well into its groove, for fear of getting a forcible reminder of his carelessness. By the side of the fire, composed of the vags with a few ash sticks, burning on the hearth, were three boys, the eldest a boy of twelve, who lived in farm service and had come home to see after his mending.

His " place " was at Blackthorpe, about three miles distant. The second, a boy of ten, had been sent home that very day from his place for fainting away in the cowshed. The third was a boy of eight years of age, not yet employed, but " looking out." The reader may take up his position with the three boys at the fire. This will enable him to look around the room. It was small, very small, yet neat, clean, and orderly. The chest of drawers with dressers over, painted green, stood against the only possible wall, where there was room to place it. I would forfeit the whole of my fortune if there was a single speck of dirt or dust to be found anywhere, either on the dressers themselves or on the plates, dishes, cups and saucers, and other crockery ware which adorned them. In front of the window was set a large, white as driven snow, dining-table, the dot of the house-wife on her wedding da)-, and close beside it and parallel to it was a long form to match, '.which came into the family through the same channel.

Two or three chairs, also painted green, with a huge grandfather's clock which ticked viciously at the foot of the stairs, made up the sum total of the Penates of the mansion. The fire burned brightly enough, save that now and then the unceremonious wind refused to allow the smoke to escape, but sent it back into the faces of the boys, at the same time filling the room with that peculiar and, to one not accustomed to it, offensive odour which we are always liable to think inseparable from moorland cots. The boys had been talking. They were all surprised to find that there was another mouth to feed. " Where are the other two youngsters, Jack ? " asked the eldest boy. " Why, Mrs. Gray next door offered to take them in there for a few nights, and so they are gone to bed." " What's become of father ?" he asked again.

" I came home to get my clean stockings and shirts, but I suppose I shall not be able to have them now," he added mournfully. " Father's gone to Moreton, but he ought to have been home before now," said the second boy looking at the clock. " There's a baby come, that's certain," resumed the second boy, " and father went away in all this wind and rain directly he came home." Yes, that day, at 12.30 p.m. precisely, the lady of the house had given birth to a fine, healthy, strong boy — the sixth of the sort — a most vigorous specimen of a screeching, crying, sound-lunged and lusty-voiced hu manity as ever graced the face of this earth :— a little stranger, not over welcome, from an invisible world, born to achieve wonders in the future, providing he should find scope enough (don't forget the winch, the bucket and the well).

This was, of course, the mother's opinion, but what line the greatness should take was not clearly defined ; whether it was to stand on its head in front of gaping throngs of its fellowmen, or, perchance, to be the tap-room oracle and be listened to with respect by the topers of the village, when halfmuddled, or to be the preacher of cant and humbug, or astound the world with his presumption and befool his trusting and trustful fellow-citizens and victims in various other ways. Yes, high hopes are always bound up in the new comers and a bright future always lies before them in the imagination of the mothers. That new comer had made his appearance and had had the fact duly recorded on page 4 of the old family Bible. That little autocratic, ever-screeching, imperious bit of humanity was and is the reader's humble servant, the author of this family history, Walter Buccaby by name, and those three boys in front of the fire are my three elder brothers Andrew, James and John Buccaby.

We will now introduce you to my father, John Buccaby, sen., who had just returned from his journey to Moreton through the blinding wind and rain. As soon as he had greeted his boys, he turned to the eldest and enquired why he was there. " I came home to get my things which mother had to wash and mend, and as it was so rough, I thought I'd stay here and go home in the morning." " All right, my boy. There's Jim been bad and had to come home to-day." " I couldn't help it, father," said Jim in an injured tone. '• No, no," said the father ; " I know that, but how's mother ? Has she called since I've been away ? " " No," said Jim. " Patie Cropp came over just after you left, and has been there ever since, but the blessed babby has done nothing but squall the whole time." A shadow passed over my father's face, so it was evident that Patie was no favourite of his, and this was followed by an ejaculation which sounded vicious and most terribly like an oath.

He swallowed his chagrin, however, for in country districts, where neigh bours are few and far between, it is always easier to drive a friend, even though she be obnoxious, from the door than to call her back again. Our cot was rather superior to the generality of such dwellings, for we had an upstair chamber reached by rickety stairs, and an unsteady step on these same stairs, told the tale that the visitor was descending, while the audible snuffles, as of air being drawn through water with a blow-pipe told how near she approached. My father busied about the room, evidently occupied with his own thoughts. Not so the boys. It was plain Patie was the subject of their youthful mimicry. "Jim," said Andrew, "look out, Patie's coming," and here he snuffled, while Jim pretended to take the snuff and shook his head so portent ously and sagely that he furnished a subject for the uproarious merriment of all three.

" What's the matter with you boys there?" said my father testily. " You had better be still." " Nothing, father," said all three demurely. Patie now landed on the bottom stair, and she ac costed the master of the house in a most unmusical nasal twang : — ■ " My dear life, Jan, you've done it again, Lizzie has gone and got the finest little boy I ever clapped eyes on." " Get out," cried my father testily. " What do you want to crow over me like that for ? You know as well as I do that we could very well have done without another mouth to feed. But there, it is no use kicking up a fuss about it that will do no good." " Get away with'ee do, Jan. The little dears always bring their love with 'em. 'Tis a sweet little duck of a cheel (pinch of snuff, snuffle, a twirl in her chair), eye as sharp as a needle, head as round as a ball, and skin as clear.

(Sigh, ah dear, resigned)." The above dialogue was interrupted by the by-play of the boys at the fire. Jim would take a pinch of imaginary snuff, at which Andrew would be seized with a violent fit of imaginary sneezing, while John, junior, looked with a side long glance at Patie to see what effect it was having on her, and all three joined in the roars of laughter as a chorus. " Be quiet ! " said my father again. " Jim, what are you laughing about ? " " It was Andrew making me laugh," said Jim, looking quite as innocent as I did at the same time. " It wasn't me," said Andrew ; " it was John." " Oh ! you lie," said John ; " how can you say so ? No, father, it was both of them making me laugh. They won't let me rest." " I'll thrash all three of you directly if you don't be still." Silence followed this threat for the space of ten seconds.

Then the mimics got tired of such tame fun, and by way of variation Jim dug his fist into Andrew's ribs, and as all theBuccabys, old and young, were ever very sensitive to tickling, Andrew leaped to his feet, upset John on the floor, and Jim rolled over the two, making altogether a rare heap of living boisterous merriment. The head of the house dropped his tea-making in a hurry, whipped out of his coat pocket a handy bit of leather and paid out the mal contents on the floor with sundry powerful and plenti ful helpings to flesh plasters until the whole of them sang morbleu. Patie yelled and screamed, I in the room above gave unmistakeable proofs of energetic vitality and perfect hearing, and mother from her bed besought her husband " to let the poor boys alone." He desisted. Patie having screamed her loudest, got up from her chair, composed herself, took two very large pinches of snuff and then settled down again to mundane affairs.

" My dear soul, Jan," she said, " be'ee gwain to have make a dish o' tay." "Yes. I'm making Lizzie a cup. When I have taken that up we will have some." " That's right, my dear soul ; I declare, Jan, I'm fairly dying for want of a dish o' tay," said Patie as she wriggled in her chair, shrugged her shoulders, shook her head, tidied her bonnet by throwing the untied strings back over her shoulders, and then com pleted her arrangements by folding her arms. She was soon comfortable until the tea came. The invalid, or rather sick woman, had been satisfied. The boys at the fire were not allowed any such extravagant luxuries as tea, save on Sunday afternoons, so John, senior, took his seat at the head of the table with Patie as a left hand supporter, and tea was discussed in conjunction with confinements, babies, families, and so forth.

John himself dropped off to sleep in the midst of his tea and pasty (turnip and mutton), thoughtfully made by his spouse on the preceding day, so that her husband might not find himself doomed to the greatest aversion he possessed — Patie's cookery — in case of the inevitable happening. Patie was no such a dainty dabbler in tea. She emptied the tea pot, watered the leaves and vowed as she did so that she was dying with the cold and wanted a dish of tay to warm her. Jim watched her, and afterwards declared that she drank nine cups, each holding half a pint. He might have been mistaken. Let us hope he was for Patie's sake. When she had thus acquitted herself she went up stairs to take a final peep at Lizzie and myself, and to say good night. With what she saw of me she was evidently well pleased, for she gave a very satisfactory ruction as her glance rested on me.

Then she turned to my mother, told her to mind whatever she did not to catch cold, or to be too free, but to lie still and let the rest tend her for a bit, and she would come over again directly she was able. Then she made her adieux and descended the stairs again. Here another difficulty presented itself. The way to her home was across the moor, and pixies were Patie's pet aversion. The most dreadful things had happened to many persons of both sexes, of her own acquaintance even, that she was brimful of stories respecting the doings of these little imps. And having just a year before been pixie led, she had gone to Plymouth and consulted a " White Witch," who was supposed to be able to counteract all evil ; she was possessed of charms which enabled her to be proof against the machinations even of Satan himself.

Still she did not care to go home alone, and she asked first Andrew, then "dear little Jimmy," and finally "her boy " Jack ; but all three boys preferred to be excused and began to make excuses. Andrew had his boots off. Jim's boots leaked water, while John's boots were gone to the shoemaker to be mended. The wrangle between Patie and the boys roused their father from his nap, and he quickly settled the matter by telling all three boys to go without any more grumbling. John could wear the old boots he had been running about in all day. So it was settled, and very soon all were well equipped and ready for their journey.

Chapter II

A FAIRY DANCE. I'll follow you, 111 lead you round about, Through bog, through bush, through brake, through brier, Sometimes a horse I'll be, sometimes a hound, A hog, a head/ess bear, sometimes as re. They wilfully themselves exile from light And must for aye consort with black brow'd night. Midsummer ATghi's Dream. The fiat had gone forth, and Patie, in a very short space of time, was provided with an escort consisting of three young imps of fun, most suitable coadjutors of the most malevolent members of the pixie band, who set off with Patie as their convoy. There was mischief lurking in their flashing eyes. What has Jim fished out of a secret hole in the vags ? It seemed to be very bulky. What did he require matches for ? We shall see anon. The youngsters paid scant attention to their charge.

They held head to head, conversing in whispers, all the way down Stag's Head hill, up to Prowdy Town, and then all of a sudden and without the slightest preparation, Jim was missed from the band. Patie was alarmed at first, but the other boys were under no concern about it, and they allayed Patie's fears by telling her that most likely he had run home. It was all the more likely, since he had grumbled a good deal because he was driven out on what he had termed a " fool's errand." The other two boys plodded cheer fully on through the dense darkness, which, seeing that the strength of the wind had subsided and the rain entirely ceased, was by no means unpleasant, save when an unexpected pool of water, or an extra-large block of granite cropped up in their path, which the darkness kept them from observing and avoiding.

Patie kept talking all the time, but the boys paid no attention to her, save to say yes and no now and then. She was a most notorious talker and could no more keep from relating one from her innumerable stock of tales relating to the pixies than she could abandon her snuff. A bog in the distance with its dancing light brought out a story of how a man coming from Two Bridges to Prince's Town had been misled by seeing the pixies dancing forward and back with their tiny lanterns in their hands. He had gone up to where he had expected to find a house and then the pixie king had taken him in charge and for four mortal hours he had been kept walking as fast as his legs could carry him, around a single stone, and all the time he had believed that he was walking on his jour ney. When daylight broke, he saw where he was and felt sore from head to foot, while his feet were reversed and his toes were where his heels ought to have been, and was pumple-footed to the day of his death.

If the boys did not believe it they could ask anybody in Prince's Town if they remembered Sandy Bill and they would soon find that what she said was true. Nor was this all. His clothes had been taken off his back and torn into shreds, and the remnants reolaced on his back inside out. In telling the story afterwards, this poor deluded victim of pixie malevolence had' solemnly declared to the person who told Patie the story that he had plainly heard the little elfish demons laughing their little, short, shrill staccato ha, ha, ha's, as they proceeded with their operations, and also that when he groaned and cried the loudest, their merri ment reached its highest pitch. Just at the conclusion of her story, she was made aware of the fact that Andrew and John were enjoying themselves and were laughing and chuckling to all intents and purposes, and that she was the object of their derision.

" What are you laughing at, Jack ?" she rapped out sharply. " Nothing, Patie," said Jack very demurely, at the same time giving Andrew a pinch, which made him howl. The tone, the howl, perhaps, also, the matter of the reply, made Patie suspicious that all was not right, for she snapped out the same query to Andrew, but only elicited the same reply. "Ah," moaned Patie, "I wish that poor little Jimmy " (both the others enjoyed this allusion to the innocent little Jimmy and laughed aloud in their glee), " had not gone back, for he would not have made fun of poor Patie. He was always the kindest, the dearest little fellow in the world and would have prevented you from being so rude to a poor woman." Now, as Jim was the instigator of all the mischief present and future, her confidence in the purity of the ringleader was most highly appreciated, and they laughed outright more loudly than before.

She was getting very near home now, and as she was so exasperated at the impudence of the boys, she made a run for it, vowing that both of them must be pixie-led already. Another source of trouble to her was a fear that she should not reach home before twelve o'clock and then she might be left on the moor all alone with the boys and the pixies until day broke. She started up the lane as hard as she could pelt. PAUPER AND EELON. Her shawl was thrown back over her shoulders, her bonnet in her hand. It was a second or two before the boys comprehended what had happened, but when they did so off they followed in full chase. Gilpin's ride was nothing to it. They managed to get a slight view of her through the darkness and then they kept her well in sight. Patie was out of breath, but she never stopped.

Past the solitary farm house they went at full speed. Not a light was to be seen, all the house was wrapt in slumber and every window was dark. Patie's heart failed her, for she heard the clock in the kitchen striking twelve, although she knew the farmer always kept his clock half an hour fast. But never mind. She had reached a spot where she could get a full view of her own garden gate. She made a rapid run, like a racer at the end of its course, to catch up the last few yards and looked to see if her husband was waiting up for her, and then, with the speed of lightning, she came to a full halt, turned her back on her own house and sat down on a boulder and wept aloud. The boys came up to her, and when they could command their voices, Andrew spoke to her. " What's the matter, Patie ?" " Ah, my poor dear children, why did I bring you out to-night ?