Part 7

“I have it!” he exclaimed, rubbing his brow and scratching his head, “yes: the priest, towards the conclusion of his discourse last Sunday, told us that the yew was a type of death. He said that it was black, and so was death: it grew in the church-yard, and so did death. Then he stated--”

“Go on, go on,” interrupted Jeremiah impatiently,--“proceed, brother. I fell asleep over that point.”

“Then he stated,” continued Gideon, “that as the yew was the emblem of the death of old men, so the cypress, being a much smaller tree, might, with great propriety, be considered as an emblem of the death of young men. Now I am a young man, Jeremiah, and the cypress is, therefore, the tree for me!”

“But is there a cypress in ‘the Rough?’”

“No, no,” was the answer, “remain here for a little, and I will bring one. Satan can have no objection, unless he be a coward, to one standing without roots.”

Still Gideon did not leave the house, and some uncomfortable thoughts were evidently clouding his brow, at least that part of it which the nightcap left uncovered.

“Should Nelly come down, and find that I am out, she would leave me to cool all night, on the wrong side of the door. But covered with glory, from fiendish achievements, could she resist me?”--and elated with the idea, he looked a few inches taller, and braver by as many; strode with a martial air twice across the room, and then strode out. Jeremiah was not fond of adventures: and the truth was, that he had not asked where his brother was going for the cypress, lest he should have been answered by another question, “would he not accompany him?” He himself confessed that he was rather of a _sedentary_ disposition, and must, therefore, have declined to leave his chair.

Meanwhile Gideon was threading his way to the churchyard, which was at a little distance. The priest, it seems, had said, that should any of his hearers have the curiosity to see a cypress, he would, when the service was over, shew them one. A few had remained behind: of whom, some not being very excellent herbists, had expected to find winter apples there; because, as they reasoned, the tree was an emblem of death, and the eating of an apple had brought death into the world. Gideon was not of this class. He was forced to remain behind, because Mrs. Chiselwig had strictly enjoined him never to be nearer her on their way home, than a hundred yards; so that he received the benefit of the priest’s illustration, and knew exactly the situation of the cypress. He entered the churchyard, found the spot, and then ascertained that he had forgot a digging spade. It was dim twilight, but the snow on the ground made objects, otherwise invisible, to be seen, and the tailor recognized a form approaching. He at once concluded that it was the enemy, and took his station, as directed, behind the cypress. He heard a deep groan, and then a shriek. Nothing terrified, Gideon called out, in a ferocious tone, “Come, James, come,” when he received an answer,

“Oh! heaven, save my wits, and my body. Shall I come? No, no; and yet I cannot run. Something holds me fast.”

Gideon was astonished. The enemy had, in his hearing, breathed a prayer;--not a pater-noster, indeed, but still a prayer. Soon, however, his astonishment gave way to his rage, that he would not come. “Fiend! coward!” Gideon cried out, when he instantly heard retreating steps. He pursued in the direction of the sounds, and came up to a form crouching behind a tombstone! The tailor was collared in a moment, and struck to the ground.

“You are the fiend or ghost who terrified me. I took thee for the spirit of the strange gentleman, over whose grave the cypress is planted. Ha! take that, and that,” and as he spoke he made a few presents to Gideon, which seemed very like blows. “Where are your confounded life-preservers now? Are they upon you?” and he struck the tailor’s shins, who, looking up, beheld James Dennis, the sexton of Ormskirk. We have hinted already that the members of these two useful professions, during the winter, were not very amicably disposed towards each other. After Gideon had got upon his legs, the sexton resumed,--

“You have tried to rob me of my trade, and I have half a mind to make you atone for it, by putting you into a grave which I have just dug.”

“Not to night,” interrupted Gideon. “I have a work before me, to be performed, and I shall not be buried happily till it be accomplished. Not to night, good sir, for I fight the devil!”

A fit of shivering came over his companion, who was very superstitious; and it is no comfortable word, that same devil, to be heard with an atmosphere of darkness, and in a churchyard.

“Oh! oh!” groaned the sexton, “mention it not. The snow falls heavily, and I often fancy that such is the garb of light, which we are told he sometimes assumes.”

“Hast thou, friend,” inquired Gideon, “seen the track of his steps here lately? Snow shews them rarely. Here they are--”

“For goodness sake, do not mention the subject,” interrupted the sexton, as he trembled anew. The tailor, however, explained all his warlike intentions to him: stated for what he had come to the church-yard: and finally, received the assistance of the grave spade, to uproot the sickly cypress. He left the spot, bearing it on his shoulders, and the hero of the Eneïd did not stalk with a prouder air, as he raised the heavenly shield which his goddess-mother had induced Vulcan to forge for him, than did Gideon Chiselwig, tailor, in Ormskirk.

The snow continued to fall heavily, and the wind drifted it about in fury, when, a little before midnight, the two tailors (for Jeremiah, from fear of Mrs. Chiselwig’s wrath, had thought it best to accompany his brother) were moving in the direction of the Rough Wood, situated at a short distance from the town. The priest, it will be recollected, had termed the cypress black; but it had now changed colours, and was white enough. Gideon’s nightcap was still red, for, at his request, Jeremiah took it from the head repeatedly, and dashed the snow from it, lest it should lose any of its power, to call up some rather unpleasant sensations in the mind of Satan. Many were the misfortunes which befel them on the way; now wandering from their course, and now stumbling into a deep wreath of snow.

“Gideon’s courage, however, was not to dissolve thereby, and wearied as he was, by carrying the cypress, and dragging Jeremiah, he still persevered, and at length reached the entrance of the wood. They passed on to a convenient station, Jeremiah starting when large flakes of snow fell upon his face, from the trees.

“No more, no more,” said Gideon, making a halt near to some overgrown firs, and his voice sounded so hollow, even to himself, that he almost began to be frightened. “Here is the scene of the horrible enchantment; Jeremiah, brush my nightcap, whilst I elevate the cypress on that huge branch.”

“Aye, aye, brother, raise it high. The book said that he would appear at the top; do not allow him to come too near, for I never relished sulphur much.”

When all things were in readiness, the nightcap adjusted, and the cypress fixed, the brave knight of the needle, in a firm voice, cried out,--

“Come, James, come!”

A flash of lightning gleamed over their heads, and a voice, by no means musical, though merrily attuned, amidst hollow laughter, said,--

“Here, Gideon, here.”

As soon as a circle of safe diameter had been described by their fingers, they looked up. There Jeremiah was fated to behold eyes of a much deeper red than his own, peering down; moreover with a less mournful expression. He fell, but had the good sense to fall within the magic circle, and there he groaned. Gideon was thus left alone to brave the infernal terrors; and whatsoever some may say respecting Beelzebub, certainly on this occasion, he did not appear the handsome and well-favoured gentleman, equipped in boots, shining so beautifully, that everything is reflected, except his hoofs,--and perfumed with spices and ointments, to suppress the strong effluvial sulphur of his person. Nor was he the noble fiend of Milton, shorn of his glory, as the sun in a partial eclipse: for we presume that his devilship has the right of proving the simile false at the hour of midnight. Accordingly, horrible sights were Gideon’s, and they were ever varying. Now the enemy assumed some strange mixture of forms,--rolling heads, contorted legs, and swinging tail: but before a conception could be formed in the tailor’s mind of what they were, he was altogether changed. Light, darkness, and smoke, were around him. The cypress leaves rustled to the movement of his hoofs. Saucer eyes, in the edges of which there lurked such a malicious wink and twinkle; a mouth, occasionally, when it could be seen, as wide and black as the pit whence he came, in which hung a tongue, bright and lurid with a serpent’s poison, breathing out thence visibly a blue air; naked limbs, around which a green light flickered, shewing neither skin, muscle, nor bone, but an indescribable substance: large black hoofs, hanging from small ancles; all these parts changed, and poor Gideon stared, perfectly bewildered at the proportions of his opponent. He soon, however, regained his wonted composure, and broke the silence,--

“Nay, enemy of man, think not thus to confound me, with your childish tricks. Be a man, Nicholas, and not a fool.” In a moment around the circle which had been made, a blue flame flashed. The devil danced on the outside, with the cypress for his stilts. His face was concealed, and he now wore the garb of a scrivener, with paper and pens stuck in his belt. He leapt to the ground, and there he stood, of small stature, but twisting and pliable.

“Gideon Chiselwig,” said the learned clerk, “you are a brave earth-clod. I am an antiquarian in my small way, and should be glad of your autograph on this parchment. In my desk at home, I have the names of great warriors, statesmen, and poets, but am yet denied the honour of that of a tailor. Mine is a rare and a valuable museum. Friend, be so kind as to write me ‘Gideon Chiselwig’ here, in this corner. Now,”--and he unfolded a long roll, and held it out to Gideon. “Nay, nay, your hands are stiff and cold, with the blowing of this storm; give me a shake, and I’ll warm them. Tush! Gideon a coward? Then write me your initials.”

“I came not here,” solemnly returned the tailor, “to sport, but to fight with you. Prepare for combat, or write on the parchment, a coward.”

“What! fight without a challenge? Here are the articles; write your name, and then I must gird myself for battle. Come, the night is cold--cold--and I shiver.”

“That will be a change, friend, I guess,” interrupted Jeremiah, who now venturing to raise his head, saw nothing formidable in the enemy, “I warrant thee, that some of your associates are not shivering at present. I suppose that during summer, there is not much rain in your country, and during winter not much frost or snow.”

No reply was made to the polite address of Jeremiah, but the clerk had already placed the pen in the hand of Gideon.

“Where is the ink?”

“In your veins; prick them with a needle, or be a coward. Blood is the challenge to deadly combat.”

“Do all other inks freeze in your country?” again inquired Jeremiah, and again he received no answer.

Gideon did as he was directed, and wrote his name on the parchment. He observed that the blood dried as soon as it fell from the pen, and became indelible.

“Fool! fool!” exclaimed the fiend, with a loud shriek of joy, “thou art for ever lost. This is a contract that you will be my servant in hell. Two conditions are granted to you; or, rather, two deeds to which you may command me. Next night we meet again, and when morning comes, you are mine. Live a pleasant day to morrow. Ask two things, and here I have pledged to grant them, or you are free. The parchment may not be wiped, and cannot be torn!”

This was spoken in a tone so fiendish and exulting, that Gideon’s heart failed him. He now knew that he was altogether in the power of the enemy, with only one day to live; and then a horrible departure from this world; and in the next world such a revolting service in which he was to be employed. He bent down on his knees, and clasping his hands in extreme agony and terror, looked imploringly upon the fiend, and cried out--

“Oh! spare me! I can be of no use to you.”

“More,” was the reply, “than you are to any one on earth. Ah! Gideon, you’ll make a good member of society there.”

“Nay, nay,” returned Gideon, “I may lie in a hot and black corner of the pit, like an old woman by the fire, who cannot move about. I shall do nothing but retch, and cry for water. I could not go on any errand of yours--could not whisper mischief in any person’s ear. You might torment me, but I should be utterly unable to serve you. Oh! spare me!”

“Spare him,” began Jeremiah with averted face. “Had he been a ruffian, he would have been of essential service in any vacant situation. But, sir, and I speak with great respect, Gideon would be the laziest footman in your employ. He could not travel from your place to Ormskirk in less than a life-time. And then he would have forgot your messages, and lost your letters, unless they were put in his nightcap, and that, you know well, could not hold as many as you require. Gideon Chiselwig an imp of darkness! why a little infant could cheat him of an apple! Perhaps he would then be fonder of a snow ball. Ah! he is too simple to be a man, and how could he be a devil?”

The fiend laughed, and pointing to the name on the parchment, written with blood, bade Gideon recollect that he was his property, by contract and consent.

“Oh!” once more ejaculated Gideon, “spare me! What! must I leave--”

“Nelly, you mean? Fear not. I shall bring her to you in good time. The separation cannot be long.”

“Oh!” resumed the tailor, “must I die,--have my brains dashed out against the wall, as your victims generally are treated?”

“No, no, Gideon, they shall even then be covered with your nightcap--”

“To leave my profession, to--”

“No, no,” was the reply, “you shall then make my pantaloons of many colours. My wages are--but I dare not quote from that Book.--You understand me, Gideon. You need not shriek: spare your lungs, as they will have exercise enough, and yet they will not require sewing and mending. They must last as long as your service, and that is for ever. I shall never dismiss you for bad conduct, Gideon. Eternity is the term of the engagement between us. Oh! eternity!”--and here all the farce and pantomime vanished, as his form changed into one of lofty power, and his voice thrilled with eloquence from the remembrance, and the still more intense anticipation of endless woe. “Oh! Eternity, how vast thou art. No shore, a boundless sea! No bank, nor yet a little island, on which the lost can alight, and, for a moment, quit the gulf, and shake off their pain. The scroll of fate is placed in the hand, written with woe: long and long may it unfold itself, but the last roll never comes. Oh! Eternity! thou hast no resting place for the bright foot of Hope:--yes,” and here Satan assumed the same appearance as before, “Gideon, our engagement expires only with eternity: you shall board with me, and have enough of food--not much ale or water, however, but a great supply of fuel, and that gratis. But before I depart, name two requests which you may wish me to fulfil. Would you enjoy power or beauty? They shall be granted, and the poor tailor may sit on a throne, or at the side of a beautiful empress. Amidst all, think of the coming night, when your appetite is about to pall, and how will it be whetted!--Name two requests.”

Jeremiah started up, so sudden was the advent of the idea in his mind, and no longer miserable, thinking that Gideon would now successfully puzzle Satan. He whispered into his brother’s ear, “Ask for the reformation of Nelly!”

“Well then,” said the tailor addressing the enemy, “the first condition is, that you thoroughly reform my wife: make her to love me; to give me due allowance of food, fuel, sleep, and all necessaries, and not to beat me. She may comb my head, but must not scratch it. She may kiss, but not bite me. The vinegar must be taken from her temper, and honey put in. The poker must only be used for the coals: in short, you have undertaken an impossibility. You may have made her what she is--but you cannot unmake her.”

“Ah! master Nicholas,” chuckled Jeremiah, who was vain of having suggested the above condition, “give it up, and confess that you are an easy simpleton for once. A devil make an angel of a woman! Ridiculous, quite ridiculous, Nick. You may pare her nails, but you cannot keep her from scratching. Say no more, give it up and depart, and carry a globe of snow on your shoulders, to your abode, to cool some of your friends.”

Lightning flashed over Jeremiah’s head as he finished speaking, and effectually withered up his wit, as well as his courage. A long silence ensued, broken by the fiend at last, as he said--

“The condition shall be fulfilled. Your person shall be sacred to your wife, no more to come in contact with poker or fist, nails or teeth. She shall supply your grinders with every thing but her own fingers. As for sleep, you have not much time for that, before I come to claim you as my slave. And as for fuel, Nelly will seat you close by the grate, and you may take warm coals in your hand like boiled potatoes: and do not feel the least anxiety about fuel hereafter, you shall have great abundance then. Nay, nay, Gideon, your wife’s temper shall likewise be reformed. Oh! you are a man of discrimination, and have perceived that it is no easy task which you have assigned me.--Now name your other condition.”

Gideon then trembled, lest the first condition should be fulfilled, and thought over some impossibility which he should ask the devil to perform, as the fulfilment of the second condition.

“Then build me a wall, with stone and mortar, an hour before daybreak to morrow.”

“Provided there be a thaw.”

“No provisions,” boldly replied Gideon,--“no provisions. And lest there should be a thaw occasioned by crowds passing, it must not be built in a thoroughfare, but in a field at some distance from Ormskirk. It must be four hundred yards in length, and five feet in height, and all finished in an hour.”

“Why, Nick,” interrupted Jeremiah, whose courage flowed as well as ebbed, “you will take an hour to bring the sand from the sand-hills. Besides, no honest man will lend you his horse and cart.” No answer was returned, and the enemy walked around the circle once or twice, and then stood full in front of Gideon, while the parchment, with his name, burned brighter, and more bright. But the flame did not conceal the blood by which it had been written, and the form of a heart, weltering amidst the flame, turning in agony, and guarded by the name.

“The conditions,” Satan exclaimed, “shall be performed, and as soon as the wall is built, I shall escort you to your future home. Let this parchment float, till then, before you, in your waking moments and in your dreams. Accustom your mind to the thought of thunder, lightning, sounds of an earthquake, the hissing of fiends, the rolling of a deep unfathomable gulf, and the clutch of this little, little loving hand,” and he switched out a horrible paw, scorched, but not burned; for every joint and muscle moved with inconceivable ease and speed. “Do not think, poor wretch, that you shall see me then as merry as I have been at present, nor will you be merry when limb from limb is torn and mangled? Dream of it,--it must come to pass. A few hours, Gideon, and I meet you: till then, adieu,” and the fiend vanished. A long track of blue light, and dark forms hovering near it, marked the course of his flight over the wood.

As we have been long enough in the cold and bitter storm, and as all fire and brimstone have disappeared, we do not choose to walk side by side with the two tailors, on their way back, amidst the drifting of the snow, which, by this time, had fallen so heavily, that the way was completely blocked up.

We prefer to enter the residence of the parson, and, seated opposite to his rosy countenance, note a few observations as to what was passing there. In a parenthesis, we have already described the worthy man as fat and oily. Indeed, he was singularly consistent, for whilst he preached _good living_ to others, he did not neglect to practice it himself, though, perhaps, he had a private interpretation of the word, and understood it in a different sense. He told his hearers that they would, in the end, feel the advantages resulting from it: and certainly, after fifty years practice, he looked very comfortable himself. This regimen had endowed him with size and colour, flesh and paint. He had been called a light of the church; only, we presume, because his face, in shape, resembled the moon, though scarcely so pale. Yet, withall, Dr. Mauncel was mild and benevolent, and one of his best properties was, that he had a beautiful daughter, who had just reached her nineteenth winter. Many a sigh had been unconsciously breathed as Mary leant upon her father’s arm, on their way to church: and as she knelt in prayer, many a look had been directed towards her, and lovers envied the vicar for the many caresses he must receive from such a fair being, and thought what a sanctuary her presence would make of the very humblest home. The little arch creature knew this, and flung back her ringlets, that her face might be seen, and then contrived to make it so demure and grave, that one might have imagined that a ray of happy, but feverish love, had never brightened over it. When she smiled, it was always so friendly, that a deeper sentiment, it was thought, could not lurk beneath it; and she would extend her hand so frankly, that no one could venture upon retaining and kissing it,--it felt so sisterly. And yet, the sweet rogue was in love with her cousin William, then residing at the Vicarage; and when the good doctor was paying his addresses either to his meals or his sermon, the young pair were toying with each other’s hands, and his reverence had once been startled from his reveries, by a very loud kiss.

We have, strangely enough, omitted to mention that it was Christmas night on which all the transactions we have recorded of the tailors, took place; so that lights were still seen in the vicarage, and a goose, with others of the same genus, was standing on the table very peaceably, if we except the smoke of their anger, which was ascending, and, as the vicar facetiously remarked, much more comfortable where they were, than without, in the fury of the storm.

“Is all in readiness? Now, nephew, you can fence and carve, bisect and dissect; but when you reach my age, you will only be able to devour, decant, or digest. Stay; Mary, bring Rehoboam and Jeroboam, with all their tribes. Rehoboam was the son of Solomon, and there is no reason why a wise man should not be fond of him. Come, haste, Mary, else I shall send William to bring you.”

“Nay, nay, uncle,” said the youth, “to avoid delay, I will go at once, and chide her so, that she must despatch. Now,--dear Mary,” and the happy couple ran out of the room together.

“Sly rogues,” chuckled the old man, who saw how matters stood.

Mary, it seems, had been refractory, for it was not until a considerable length of time had elapsed, that she appeared, carrying a few glasses, whilst her cousin bore two large bottles, Rehoboam and Jeroboam.

“Ah! ah!” cried the vicar. “Fie, fie, whence come these blushes, Mary? Let both of you approach; now kneel; and God bless you, my dear children! Nephew William, take her hand as a Christmas present from her father; you have already obtained her heart from herself.”