Uncle Joe's Stories

She had been sent by her father to perform a certain duty, and that duty, come what would, she meant to discharge, unless prevented by superior force. So she trudged on steadily along the road, and her brother accompanied her, probably because he thought it the least of two evils, and was too much terrified to run away. As they neared the two crones, they could not but feel that there was nothing either prepossessing or agreeable in the appearance of the latter.

Their clothes were untidy and ill-fitting: each had a kind of hood half drawn over her head; but not sufficiently so as to conceal her decidedly ugly features, whilst a certain wild, haggard look, which sat upon their faces, was anything but calculated to put the traveller at his ease. They walked, or rather crawled, along one side of the road, and close behind them followed a gaunt cat, which, if formerly black, was now gray with age, and which wore upon its face the same haggard look which was so plainly discernible upon those of the hags themselves.

Mary and Billy walked quietly on, and were just passing these strange beings, and really beginning to hope they might be allowed to do so without interruption, when they were suddenly pulled up by the harsh voice of the crone nearest to them, who called out "Stop!" in a voice harsher than the croak of a raven, but with such a tone of authority that no thought of disobeying her entered the head of either of those she addressed even for a single moment.

"Stop, young people!" she said a second time; "whither away so fast this afternoon?"

Mary civilly replied, "We are going up to Farmer Long's, ma'am; father sent us."

"Ah!" replied the crone; "going up to Farmer Long's for father, are ye, my chickens? Fine times, forsooth, when John Gower's children go visiting instead of minding their business at home. But pray, what have you got in that basket, my pretty Minnikin?"

"Only a kitten, ma'am, that father is going to give to Aunt Sal – I mean to Mrs. Long," replied the girl.

"Only a kitten!" cried the other crone, who had not yet spoken; "only a kitten, indeed! and how does John Gower the labourer have kittens to give away, I should like to know? Our poor old Grimalkin here has lost a kitten lately – I wonder whether this can be the same, strayed over to John Gower's house. If he had a kitten to give away, he might have thought of his poor neighbours, methinks, instead of the rich farmer's wife!"

When Mary heard these words she begin to tremble for the safety of her kitten, for as I have already remarked, the Crones of Mersham were not famous for distinguishing clearly between other people's property and their own.

So she made reply very quickly in these words: "Please, ma'am, this kitten can't be your cat's, because we've known it ever since it was born, and its mother too, and it has never been out of our charge yet."

"No matter, no matter," said the crone in a testy voice; "let me see it, and I shall soon know all about it."

Mary did not dare refuse, nor would it have been of much use if she had done so.

The crone stretched out her long, skinny hand, and lifting the basket-lid, saw the little black kitten; which, immediately that it saw her, crouched down in the corner of the basket and uttered a low moaning sound.

"Poor little thing!" said the old hag. "Poor little thing! I can hardly see it so. Look, sister Jane!" and the other crone came and peered also into the basket, whilst the kitten continued to crouch and moan.

"The very image of our grimalkin, I do declare!" cried the second crone after a moment. "It must be hers – there can be no doubt at all about it."

So saying, she put her hand down and stroked the back of the kitten, as if about to take it out of the basket.

As soon as she touched it, however, the little animal, young as it was, appeared to go into a paroxysm of fear and fury; it growled and spit, made as if it would spring out of the basket, and suddenly inflicted a severe scratch on the hand which was about to seize it.

The old woman's face immediately became distorted with rage, and as she hastily withdrew her hand, she fixed her eyes steadily upon the kitten, muttering at the same time some words which the children could not understand, but which sounded in their ears like anything but a prayer. Neither of the crones, however, tried further to interfere with the kitten, but begged of the children to give them money, saying that they were nearly starving.

Billy of course had nothing, and Mary only a penny, but she thought it best to give that for fear of being bewitched if she refused; so, sorrowfully enough, the poor child drew out her only coin and placed it in the hand of one of the hags, who grinned frightfully by way of thanks, and allowed the children to proceed on their way – although before they did so they could not help noticing the strange conduct of grimalkin, who threw herself on the side of the road, turned over and over, grinned like a Cheshire cat, and appeared to be convulsed with laughter at all that had occurred.

Mary and Billy, however, glad to have got away from the old women, hurried forward towards Farmer Long's dwelling.

But now the conduct of the kitten became inexplicable. Up to the time of their meeting the crones, it had behaved like a decent little animal of tender years, nestling quietly in its basket, and giving no trouble to anybody.

It now took quite a different course. It moaned and whined as if it wanted to get out – it pushed against the basket, first on one side and then on the other, as if trying to force its way through, and behaved in all respects as if it was a mad kitten, – although, as I never saw a mad kitten, I am not sure how they do behave exactly – but this was Farmer Barrett's expression, and a man of his years and experience was not likely to be wrong.

But more than this, although the kitten was young and small, and had therefore been very light and easy to carry, scarcely had the children passed the crones than its weight seemed to increase vastly, and it became four times as heavy as before, until poor Mary's arm quite ached with carrying it.

Billy, seeing her trouble, advised her to turn it out into the woods; but Mary would not do this, being determined to obey her father's orders, so she trudged steadily on until they came to the farm to which they had been sent.

There they asked if Mrs. Long was at home, and were presently ushered into the presence of that good lady, to whom they told the object of their visit. She received them very graciously, and expressed herself much pleased with John Gower's attention in sending her the kitten, saying that she had always desired to have one of that breed.

They opened the basket, and she was going to take the creature out, when it looked her straight in the face, and she drew back her hand at once.

"Lawkes! child!" she said to Mary; "how the thing's eyes do shine! Like live coals of fire, I do declare. I never seen such eyes in all my born days, that I never did!"

As she spoke, the kitten saved her the trouble of removing it from the basket by jumping out of its own accord on to the table, where it sat glowering at the party, and making a low noise between a purr and a growl, until Mrs. Long brought it some milk, with which it proceeded to regale itself, and the children, having had a slice of cake each, and been duly charged with the good lady's thanks to their father, took their departure, and reached the cottage without further adventure.

Now I verily believe that the doings of that kitten at Farmer Long's farm were of such a wonderful and unheard of character that a whole book, and a very amusing book, too, might be written about them. But people did not write many books in those days, and Farmer Barrett could not recollect many particulars about this part of his story. At all events, there can be no doubt (to use his own expression) that the animal's "tantrums" were extraordinary; the cream was constantly devoured, and the best cream-jug broken on one occasion, in order to get at it; the milk was for ever being upset; the marks of dirty paws were daily to be seen on clean table cloths, or on the counterpanes of beds just made, and, in short, just wherever they ought not to be.

Mrs. Long's best cap, having mysteriously disappeared one afternoon, was seen in the kitten's clutches upon the hearthrug, a perfect wreck of a cap, and useless for ever afterwards. Then the perverse little animal appeared to entertain a strong and marked partiality for young ducks and chickens, which she ruthlessly murdered whenever she could lay her paws upon them, neglecting to touch any of the rats upon which her energies might have been much more beneficially employed.

Day by day depredations were committed, all of which were attributed to the kitten, and most of which were probably perpetrated by her. From the moment of her arrival at the farm, nothing seemed to prosper with the Longs.

Everything turned out just the reverse way to that which they had hoped, and it really seemed as if some evil spell had been cast upon them. Looking calmly back upon the whole history, I have no doubt at all but that the crones had bewitched the kitten when they met the children on that memorable afternoon, and that to this must be attributed all that afterwards occurred.

However this may be, it was certainly an unlucky day for the Longs when that kitten came upon their premises, and that they very soon found out.

Still, people do not always put the saddle upon the right horse immediately, and they did not at first believe that the animal had anything to do with their ill-luck. Mrs. Long, however, who had an eye to business, could not stand the constant inroad upon her ducks and chickens, to say nothing of the cream-jug, and the loss of her cap very nearly brought matters to a climax.

She might perhaps, however, have borne it a little longer, had not an event occurred which was really beyond anybody's bearing. One morning, when the worthy couple were at breakfast, the kitten calmly jumped on to the table, seized a piece of bacon which the farmer was about to place upon his own plate, and deliberately carried it off.

After this it was quite evident that she must be got rid of. No man can stand being robbed of his breakfast in such a barefaced manner, and the good farmer spoke up pretty strongly on the subject. As the breed was supposed to be a particularly good one, he did not order the animal to be killed, nor indeed would he have ventured to do so unless his wife had especially wished it, but he expressed himself in forcible terms as to the desirability of its quitting his premises with as little delay as possible.

Mrs. Long had by this time become so entirely of the same opinion, that she resolved to take immediate steps to carry out the joint views of her husband and herself. She accordingly directed that the cart should be got ready the same afternoon, and that Tom the Bailiff should drive her down to Mersham, where she determined to restore the kitten to the Gowers with her own hands.

Accordingly, at the appointed time the cart was brought round, old Dapple, the steady pony, was in it, and Tom prepared to drive. Mrs. Long got in, and the kitten, who had shown an unwonted and marvellous docility in submitting to be placed once more in a basket, was safely deposited in her lap.

Off they went, out of the farmyard into the lane, and taking a turn which brought them near to Aldington Knoll, descended towards the woods through which runs the road from Mersham and Aldington to the canal, and so away across Romney Marsh to Dymchurch.

You must understand that Tom and his mistress were heading away from the canal, only they had come into that road in order to reach the lower part of Mersham, in which was situate John Gower's cottage. So when they came past Aldington Knoll, and descended the hill, the marsh road led back to the left, nearly parallel with that from which they came, whilst they pushed straight forward along the road through the woods.

As soon as they got well into the wood, or rather, into the road on each side of which the wood was wide and thick, old Dapple began to show visible signs of uneasiness. He swerved first on one side of the road, and then on the other, abandoning all the good, quiet habits of a respectable middle-aged pony, and behaving much more like a giddy young colt who had never been broken to harness.

Tom the Bailiff who was a simple country lout, did not know what to make of it, and was both confused and frightened when his mistress began to tell him that it was only his bad driving. But this was evidently not the case. Dapple wanted very little driving at all, and the best "whip" in the world could not have kept him straight when he was in the mood which seemed now to have possessed him. Another cause also disquieted good Mrs. Long.

The kitten began to fidget in her basket in a most unaccountable way, and to give vent to various discordant sounds, whilst the weight upon the good lady's knees, as the basket had been on Mary's arm, was really unpleasantly heavy.

They managed to get through the wood somehow or other, until they were well out of the parish of Aldington and had entered that of Mersham. Here all their troubles increased – the kitten's struggles were more violent than before, and Dapple became perfectly unmanageable, until all at once they perceived a large black cat upon one side of the road, which suddenly darted in front of the cart, and so startled the pony that he shied quite across the road, brought the wheel of the cart over the side of the ditch, and in another moment it was overset and its occupants were tumbled into the brambles and bushes with which the ditch was choked.

Had it been winter, or had there been much rain lately, poor Mrs. Long would probably have been drowned, or at best would only have escaped with a severe ducking. As it was, the principal risk of life or limb she ran was from the kicking of the pony and as Dapple was too fat to indulge in any great manifestations of this kind, she was tolerably safe from personal injury.

But a stout woman overturned into a ditch full of brambles, is, after all, a pitiable object, and is not likely to be improved either in temper or in appearance by the event. So as soon as the good lady could scramble up into a sitting position she began to abuse everybody and everything to the best of her ability, which was not inconsiderable when applied to such an attempt. She told Tom he should certainly "get the sack" as soon as they got home; she declared Dapple was old and worn out, and only fit to draw the dung-cart in future, and she abused the kitten in no measured terms.

But where was the kitten? In the tumble and scrimmage, the lid of the basket had come off, and the animal had disappeared. Disappeared, however, only for a moment, for Tom the bailiff suddenly exclaimed in a terrified voice, —

"Look'ee, missis, do look'ee now – there be our kitten sure-ly!" and casting up her eyes, Mrs. Long beheld – or at least so she always declared to her dying day – the kitten, seated upon the back of the large black cat which had been the cause of their disaster, and which was now careering full tilt down the road with this rider upon it.

The old lady, being brave as she was stout (which is saying a great deal) felt nothing but rage when she saw what had happened, not only at the impudence of the cat, but because this occurrence threw a light upon the past, and at once opened her eyes to the truth, and disclosed the reason of the kitten's abominable behaviour at the farm.

After a moment's pause she broke out in great wrath:

"It's them crones!" she cried in loud and excited tones. "It's them crones, or some like 'em! That kitten's been bewitched – that's what come to it, Tom, you may depend upon't. Drat them witches!" Scarcely were the words out of her mouth when she shrieked loudly – "Ah-a-ah!"

"What's the matter, missis?" said Tom.

"Why," replied she, "something scratched me;" and pointing to her arm, the sleeve around which had been pushed up high in her struggles to sit upright, there indeed was a long, red scratch as if inflicted by the nail of a hand or the claw of an angry cat.

To be sure, a lady who is seated in the middle of a bed of brambles cannot be expected to escape unscratched, and no supernatural agency need be invoked in order to produce such a misfortune. Still Mrs. Long always declared that this was no bramble scratch, and coming as it did at the very moment when she was speaking strongly against the witches, there could be very little doubt as to the source from which the injury really came. However, witches or no witches, it was impossible to sit all the livelong afternoon in a ditch full of brambles, so with much difficulty and many struggles, Mrs. Long contrived to get up, and Tom the Bailiff having looked to Dapple, found there was no very serious damage done either to him or to the cart. So they righted the latter, and having got into it, proceeded on their journey.

True it was that there was now no kitten to take back to the Gowers, but the farmer's wife was determined to let them know the extraordinary manner in which the animal had conducted itself, and had a great dislike to turning back without reaching the place for which she had started. So she directed Tom to drive on along the cross road which leads from the Aldington woods to Bilsington, and comes out into the main road from Mersham to Romney Marsh. At that point, if you turn to the left you can go to the Marsh, or to Ruckinge and Orlestone by a road which lies a little further south, and if you turn to the right, you pass through the end of the great range of woods which occupy so much of that district, and presently come from Bilsington into Mersham.

Of course it was to the right that Mrs. Long turned, having made a kind of half-circle round Bilsington Priory, which was thus at her right hand all the time.

It is necessary to be thus particular, in order that no innocent parish may be wrongfully suspected of having harboured the strange and wicked creatures whose power was almost entirely confined to parts of Mersham, Bilsington and Aldington, and some parishes further west on the borders of the Marsh. A good name is a great possession, and the adjacent parishes of Sevington, Hinxhill, Smeeth and Sellinge have always been so free from the worst class of witches that, in writing of this neighbourhood, one wishes to be precise.

After they had turned to the right, as I say, a short mile brought our travellers to John Gower's cottage; but before they reached it, they had to pass within a hundred yards or so of the abode of the crones, to which a very little-frequented by-road led, branching off from the road on which they were driving. It showed courage in Mrs. Long to take this route, especially after what had happened, but she was naturally a bold woman, and perhaps she thought that the witches had probably done all that they cared to do in having overturned her cart once, and stolen her kitten.

Be this as it may, she reckoned without her host, for Dapple, who had been quiet enough since the accident, began to grow restive again as they neared the part of the road which I have mentioned, and, when within fifty yards of it, suddenly stopped and refused to move an inch.

Tom the Bailiff laid the whip over the pony's back with a will, but the only effect was to make him rear and back, so that they were in imminent danger of a disaster similar to the first. Then, to make matters worse, there arose a cloud of fog before them, which was so thick they could see nothing, and had a disagreeable smell of smoke about it. Whence or wherefore it came they could not tell, for the sun was still high in the heavens and the sky above their heads clear and blue.

It was evident that something evil was at hand and at work, and neither Mrs. Long nor her servant knew what to make of it.

Presently the good lady called out angrily, "How dare you pinch my arm, Tom?" and gave a short, sharp scream as she said so.

"Oh, don't, please don't, missis!" cried the man at the same moment, as a hand hit him a cruel box on the ear.

It need scarcely be said that neither of the occupants of the cart had touched the other; but the matter did not end there. Pinches, pushes, scratches, thumps, hair-pulling, and kicking began to a most extraordinary extent.

No one could be seen, but invisible hands assailed both Mrs. Long and Tom so fiercely and so vigorously, that they both shouted aloud with pain and terror, whilst, as if in answer to their cries, hoarse chuckles and deep bursts of laughter rang in their astonished ears, although no human being of any description was to be seen.

Never was there a more unpleasant experience than that which the worthy pair underwent, and how it would have ended I really cannot say, but for an unlooked-for and fortunate event.

All of a sudden the pinching and beating ceased, the laughter came to an end, and the fog or cloud disappeared, as it had come, by magic, as a cheery voice shouted out, close at hand, —

"Halloo! who is this making such a noise in the road. My good people, it is too bad that you should let drink get the better of you in this way!"

Glancing indignantly round, they beheld no less a person than the worthy rector of Mersham himself, riding upon a stout gray cob, and evidently coming home from some expedition to the further extremity of his parish.

Mrs. Long knew not what reply to make, but as soon as she recovered herself sufficiently, she answered the appeal.

"I am sure, sir, there is no call to say a word about drink, to which some folk lays everything that happens, be it what it will. But if you'd keep your parish clear of these here witches, you'd find things go a good deal better!"

The clergyman gravely shook his head.

"You must know, my good woman," he replied, "that there are no such beings as witches, and you ought not to wrong elderly and respectable females by using such terms. There is nobody here, and nothing to hinder your journey. I am quite ashamed to see you stopping your cart in the middle of the road and quarrelling as has evidently been the case. Take my advice, and get home as fast as you can." So saying, the good man passed the cart and began to trot gently on.

Dapple, as if his difficulties were suddenly over, and his objections to advance removed, immediately started after the rector's cob, and thus they passed the dreaded by-road without further trouble. But to her dying day, Mrs. Long always declared that she was sure they never would have got past if the rector hadn't come along just when he did. This shows the great and proper respect for the clergy which then existed, and is, moreover, a proof that Mrs. Long was a decent and respectable woman, whose word may be taken as establishing beyond doubt the truth of the events which I have undertaken to relate. But it lay heavy on her soul, for many a long day, that the reverend man should have thought she had been drinking, and made her more than ever angry with the crones whose wicked dealings had caused such an imputation to rest upon her.

The rector had trotted briskly on, and was before long out of sight, but the cart was soon close to John Gower's cottage, between which and the road was a bit of waste land; it might be as much as two or three perches in size, for in those days every strip of land was not enclosed as it is now-a-days, but there were plenty of green patches by the side of the roads, and in many places you could ride on grass for miles together.

It is very different now, and although it may be said on the one hand that we travel faster, witches are not heard of, and England is richer than in those days; yet I often say to Jack Barrett that I think there were a good many pleasant things in the old times, especially in country life, which we do not get now, and for my part I should not mind having them back again, even with a few witches here and there with them, provided we could get rid of some of the strange new-fangled ideas and curious goings on which we have got instead, and which are much worse for all of us, than a witch or two or even a stray wizard. Well, Mrs. Long told Tom the Bailiff to drive upon this bit of waste as near to the garden gate of John Gower's cottage as he could manage to get, and then down she scrambled and went into the house. John had not yet come home from his work, though he was expected every moment; but Mary received her guest with much civility, for she was a good-mannered girl, and knew how to behave to her betters.