Part 9

“Until,” was the return, “your very existence and employment, as well as habitation, shall prove it.”

“And that shall never be,” interrupted the vicar’s nephew. “Shew thyself to us, belch fire and smoke, if you do not wish to pass for an unskilful conjuror.”

“That would do him good,” remarked Jeremiah, “a good and powerful vomit would be of essential service. Whenever I have compelled my food to march too quickly down into my stomach, I am not well until it has made a hasty retreat back again to head quarters. It is exactly the same when too much goes at once. Now, I suppose that you have rather more of fire and smoke than you could wish. In fact, your throat is said to be worse than a chimney. Would it not, therefore, be prudent to vomit a little?”

“To be sure it would,” answered young Mauncel, trying to restrain his laughter, “yet, Jeremiah, he has enough of brimstone to physic him.”

The earth instantly shook; beneath and around them, they heard the elements as if contending in the bowels of the earth; fire blazing, rivers dashing and rolling, and thunder reverberating. Jeremiah fell down, but very quietly, and lay with his face close to the ground, if we except his hands, which, somehow or other, intervened between the snow and his watery countenance. Gideon groaned and shrieked alternately; and their companion, now, was startled into silence and paleness, so awful were the signs of the devil’s presence and power. A low, but deep voice, now came from the mason, as he approached to the circle.

“Give me your directions, Gideon, as to the place where I shall commence to raise the wall, and they shall be obeyed. For a time I am your servant, and am content to be so, for through eternity I shall be your master: men value every thing by time--devils value every thing by eternity. And who would not be a servant for such hire?--an hour’s labour,--and as a compensation for it, a soul to torment through all eternity! Come, haste, give me the dimensions of the wall. Eh? have I not reformed Nelly?”

Gideon tremulously answered, that he had given the dimensions last night.

“True, true,” was the reply, “you did. Gaze, and soon you shall behold the wall arising, and as the last stone is placed, be ready to meet your fate; yet,” he soliloquized, as he moved round the circle, “what have I, in which to carry the sand for the mortar! I can tear up stones, but I cannot dig for sand, and what can I procure to convey it from the sand hills! Oh! I see it.”

Jeremiah’s apron had been more valorous than its master, and boldly, though very unwisely, had ventured to lie down without the circle, and, in a moment, was seized upon by Satan, who disappeared with his spoil to a little distance. Then commenced the tearing up of the stones; and so speedily was this part of the engagement finished, that Jeremiah remarked, with much warmth in his approbation, “that the devil would make an excellent quarryman, and that he must have been employed in digging and building his own pit.” All the fiends of hell seemed to be let loose, so loud was the noise, and so wide and deep the shaking. Whenever the stones were heaved up too large, lightning leapt upon them, and they were broken into smaller sizes. But what was still more surprising, a deep smoke arose, and every object, for a short space, was imperceptible, until it was rolled away by a vivid flash of fire, furious as a tempest. The ground was no more covered with snow, and Jeremiah found himself squatted on the mud. The enemy could not be seen, but all the stones were placed ready for the builder.

“He is gone over the moss,” exclaimed Gideon, “to the sand hills. Ha! dost thou not, Jeremiah, perceive those wings of fire fluttering in the distance, away towards the sea? And soon he will return to finish his undertaking. I have no hopes.”

“Would that his hoofs sunk in the moss,” ejaculated his brother, “for many a better fellow than he, has met with his fate there. Oh, brother, sustain your spirits, and your body likewise.”

There was great propriety in the latter admonition of Jeremiah, for Gideon’s body seemed a little off the perpendicular; and accordingly he was assisted in removing himself to a tree, which the sudden thawing of the snow had revealed, and there he was stationed, leaning against its trunk, while the same precautions for their safety were adopted as before. Minute after minute passed on, and still the enemy came not. The stones lay exactly in the same position. The doomed tailor could now listen, with a slight portion of faith and hope, to the consolation which young Mauncel gave; when a slight rustling was heard in the branches of the tree, and something of a red colour was perceived. All strained their eyes, but nothing more of shape, colour, size, or essence, could be learned.

“Ah!” Jeremiah began, “he is fond of trees. How he coiled himself, as Dr. Mauncel observed, in the tree of knowledge of good and evil, pointing to the apples, and smacking his own lips! But let him stay there at present, and hatch a blackbird’s nest, if he be so inclined. Gideon, you are now safe.”

Scarcely had he finished these words, when a fiery cloud was seen coming from the direction of the sand hills, and soon Satan stood before his heap of sand, with a large trowel in his hand, ready to build the wall. But first he looked around, and descrying the altered station of the party, walked up to the circle, while his mouth belched forth fire and smoke.

“Think not,” he exclaimed in a horrible tone, “think not that you shall escape, although, by your wiles, I have been detained; and heavier shall be your punishment, for the trouble you have given me.”

“Do you sweat much?” kindly inquired William Mauncel; “then stand a little to cool yourself. You have time enough to finish the wall. Why have you returned so soon? Pray, let us have a friendly chat.”

“Gideon Chiselwig,” continued the fiend, without noticing the words by which he had been interrupted, “I tell thee that thy doom shall be much more severe. Rejoice at my momentary disappointment, as I detail it to you, and then think how much more I shall rejoice over the torments which it shall cause you, as my subject, for ever. I placed the first load of sand in your brother’s apron, and flew away with it--(Gideon, you shall have wings too, in a little,)--but when passing the moss, the cursed string broke,--”

“Honesty is the best policy, friend,” cooly remarked Jeremiah. “You are well served for a rogue. You stole away my apron, and you have received a just recompense. Learn, Nick, to be more honest for the future, at least on earth. You may escape the clutch of a magistrate, as you and his worship seem to be on very intimate terms, but believe me, that sooner or later, vice will be punished. You know the proverb, I presume, ‘that those who begin with a pin, may end with an ox,’ and I cannot exactly say, but that this apron stealing might have brought you into very serious danger. Let it be an example, Nicholas.”

“Rejoice at present,” was the reply. “Mock me, Gideon, as well as your brother does, and listen. The strings of the apron broke,--”

“Bad thread, bad thread, Gideon,” again interrupted Jeremiah, “I told you so when it came. It must not be used for the collar of a coat.”

“The strings of the apron broke,” patiently resumed the enemy, “and all the sand fell into the moss, and there it lies, a large heap and mountain. But, Gideon, beneath as heavy a mountain of my wrath you shall lie, for ever and ever:” and he instantly departed to commence his work.

Soon the wall arose a foot or two from the ground, and Gideon’s fears once more attacked him. A loud laugh was raised, at intervals, by the infernal builder, and it seemed echoed by millions and millions of the lost spirits. He skipped upon the wall, and, revealing his awful proportions, gazed upon Gideon, with eyes of such fiendish malice and revenge, that even the reckless Mauncel shuddered, and covered his face to banish the sight. And now the wall was nearly finished, the earth was shaking all around, the hissing of serpents was heard, and strange forms were seen moving beside the enemy.

“Claim him! claim him!” shrieked forth innumerable voices. The air seemed on fire, and dark masses were hastening through it, to the hellish scene. Deep gulfs were sounding and lashing their fury beneath the ground; and thunder seemed to bow the very poles of heaven, and make them totter. A long and wide circle of fiends was now made, dancing, and all pointing to Gideon with their black paws.

“Hell claims him. Which part shall we seize? Yours, noble leader, is the head. Give me the hand,--how fondly I shall shake it. Give me the breast,--how fondly I shall lie upon it. Give me the arm,--how confidently he shall lean upon mine. Let me kiss him,--how he shall love my sweet lips. Let me wash his feet,--how gently shall the fire dry them. Let me perfume his body. Ha--ha--ha!”

Their leader now raised two stones in his hands, and thundered forth, with an awful voice--

“Friends, these are the two last--and the wall is finished! Wretch, who art called Gideon Chiselwig--dost thou behold them? the two last! the two last!” and the whole infernal host raised a laugh of exultation, and poor Gideon fell to the ground. “Stay one little moment, Gideon,” the enemy exclaimed, “and you shall be supported in these loving arms. Stay--”

At that very moment a deep silence pervaded the place, and a loud crowing was raised by a cock, as it announced the devil’s day break, who must, therefore, depart, without being allowed to finish the wall. He stamped in fury, and all his infernal agents, disappointed of their prey, shrieked, and fled away. Jeremiah and young Mauncel comprehended the cause, and they shouted in joy, and taunted the fiend, until they beheld him approaching. In his hands he bore a large stone:--but his eyes glared not upon them, nor yet on the prostrate Gideon. They were fixed upon some object, which the branches of the tree seemed to conceal. Jeremiah, as he regained courage, addressed him,--

“So, Nicholas--dost thou see an apple which courts that hungry eye?”

There was no answer made, but a motion of the devil’s arm heaved up the stone, and instantly a cock fell down dead at Jeremiah’s feet, who, raising it, thus apostrophized it,--

“And thou hast saved my brother’s life, by losing thine own! But, unless thou has contracted thyself to the enemy, he shall not get thee, provided he does not invite himself along with us to dinner some day soon. No, Nick, begone. A fortnight ago, that church-yard clod, the sexton, told me that I was a brawny stripling, for I could mount my grandmother’s cat with a stepping stone. Oh! the fiend _is_ gone! Well, poor bird, thou art a martyr, yet I shall commit thy sacred remains to my stomach, begging your young reverence’s pardon, in hopes of a safe and certain resurrection.”

They succeeded in raising Gideon from the ground, and when he was sufficiently recovered to listen to his escape, and the death of his preserver, the sadness of the latter news did not much take away from the joy of the former; and he was altogether cured of his mania for supernatural achievements.

And here, as the devil left his work unfinished, we leave ours; with the exception of satisfying a few longings, which the antiquary, the lover, and the unfortunate husband of a termagant wife, may feel.

The first may yet see the heap of sand which the breaking of the devil’s apron strings deposited in the moss. It is now called “Shirley Hill;” and thus observation confirms tradition, for how could a mountain of sand be native to a moss? He indeed cannot be gratified with a sight of the apron; for Jeremiah on the following day, escorted it home, and subsequently, exhibited it so often to the good folks of Ormskirk, that the strings again broke, one dark night as he was making his way through a lane; and he had his suspicions that the hands of some old maid, and not the thread were culpable.

The Devil’s Wall still stands, but the acute Jeremiah had observed that the infernal builder, could not, with any portion of justice, have claimed Gideon, because the conditions of the contract, were not fulfilled, as the wall had only been built with sand. The large stone, some thirty years ago, could be seen firmly clasped between the boughs of the tree, where the cock fell--a martyr to his love of truth.

And now, fair reader, what is the question which you wish to ask the old man? Ah! concerning William and Mary Mauncel! A few weeks after the adventure, the worthy Doctor joined their hands, and as much happiness as thy own beautiful and romantic fancy can imagine in future for thyself, fell to their lot. On the occasion, Rehoboam and Jeroboam, with all their tribes, did not fail to appear:--and for their loyalty towards the fortunes of the family, they received marked attentions from the Reverend head; whose lips, in an appropriate manner, confessed an attachment, by no means slight. Jeremiah, in the course of the nuptial evening, stepped in, to cry over the happiness of the young wedded pair, and, with his accustomed propriety, wished that the bands of love might never be broken, like his apron strings; however fortunate the last circumstance had, most undoubtedly been. Years passed on, and sweet laughing voices came upon the ear of the old vicar, as he sat in his study; and rushing in, a band of beautiful grand-children began, in innocent mischief, to sport at his knees.

The unhappy husband is informed, that Gideon and Nelly Chiselwig, were happy in each other: and that their only weapons of attack and defence were sweet words, and fond caresses.

Some represent the devil as having horns: if so, he must have taken them from the head of Gideon Chiselwig.

THE PROPHETESS AND THE REBEL.

“Nay, Katharine, let us not return from all this quiet, to the noise of the town, until, like a young widow who veils her face from the past, and the relations of her dead husband, to go forth to other scenes, there once more to unveil it,--twilight wraps up the beauties of this vale, and then gives gentle and holy echoes to the streets. The town is pleasant then; but now--a little further on, and we shall seat us by the Hermit’s Well. On its calm surface the first and brightest star of night will glimmer beneath our feet. Heed not my laughing sister.”

“My brother,” gaily answered the companion of the lady, whom the speaker addressed, and whose arm was within his, “is pleased to be poetical. But cannot you prevent that same widow of yours, Mrs. Twilight, from leaving this vale, and entering the town in search of a husband, by wedding her yourself? Perhaps you are engaged already?--Is he Katharine?”

“Really, Alice, do you suppose that your brother would make me his confidant?”

“Would that Mrs. Twilight,” was the exclamation of the mischievous girl, “were here, to hide the blush on somebody’s face! Oh, look angry, hate James and his sister. He has scarcely succeeded in making you as sly a hypocrite as himself. My father sent him to Cambridge, to devote himself to Mother Alma, but he soon found another saint, who cared not for books and themes. The diligent student, whose letters home spoke of nothing but long vigils, and faint tapers burning through the night, was in love! He had met with a beautiful lady of gentle blood, and high birth, whom I have seen, Katharine,” and she looked archly up at her companion. “He thought of nothing but love, and of no one but her, and yet he counterfeited so well, that when he returned to us, he was pale in appearance, and retired in habits.”

“Alice,” replied her brother, laughing, “you are a rare vixen, and will never be reformed, until love has caught you. You, indeed, pay but a poor compliment to the imagination and heart of a student, to suppose that he cannot be a lover. Ponderous tomes will crush every feeling but love. Mathematics will measure and bound, with their cold laws, every feeling but love. Amidst all his researches, the image of one appears before him, bright and beautiful, even by the faint light of his lamp. She is of earth, but holy; and the more that learning and genius throw their rays upon his mind,--that being the mirror in which she is reflected,--the purer and softer does she become. But, Alice, you frequently cautioned me not to be a hard student.”

“And,” added Katharine, “did not your brother gain many of the highest prizes?”

“He has gained one, Katharine, has he not?” and the mischievous girl smiled significantly to her companion, who blushed with a deeper tinge than before, and seemed still more embarassed.

“You mean the beautiful gold medal, Alice?” inquired her brother, anxious to smooth over the hint.

“Ah! do I?” returned his sister with a playful sneer. “But I have a tale to unfold concerning it. I often observed you walking in the garden, looking anxiously upon something suspended from your neck, and when I came up, you quickly placed it again next to your breast. Katharine, are you listening? Well, one day I surprized you; you affirmed that it was the gold medal--I denied that it was. It was a miniature likeness of one of my friends,” and she fondly placed her arm around her companion, who drew the necklace closer to her bosom, lest, perchance, some miniature might be discovered there also.

They wandered on, and they beheld the beauties of the setting sun, only on each other’s countenances. They became more thoughtful, but not less happy. The two lovers,--for such was the relationship between James Dawson, and Katharine Norton,--frequently exchanged kind looks, which the playful Alice did not fail to remark. James and Alice were the only children of a wealthy physician in Manchester. Their mother had died early, and this circumstance made them cling closer to each other. Dr. Dawson was harsh to them: he had been disappointed in the marriage-portion of his wife; and he bade a very cold adieu to his son, as he left for Cambridge, and chided Alice for crying and teazing herself many days after. Yet, at times, affection arose in his breast towards them, for they were the exact image of her, who had once been enshrined in his love, until avarice hoarded up other treasures. Besides, he knew that he could not, with justice, condemn his son as a mere bookworm, for James excelled in every athletic and graceful accomplishment: and he could not, on the other hand, taunt him as only a gamester and a fencer, for he had carried off the highest literary and scholastic honours. His endowments, both physical and mental, had frequently drawn forth the admiration of his father, but it soon subsided into indifference and neglect. Alice, occasionally, as she sung the lays which her mother had taught her, and romped about his chair, in all her beauty and innocence, could warm her father’s heart, so that he pronounced a blessing upon her destiny. But often, all her smiles and fond arts to please him were disregarded: she could not relax, by all her attentions, the sternness of his countenance. A tear would then start into her deep blue eye, and she would retire to call up the remembrance of her sainted mother.

Katharine Norton was an orphan, and her parents had been of illustrious rank. She had travelled with a maiden aunt, and, as they were residing for a few weeks in the vicinity of Cambridge, she had met with young Dawson, and thus commenced an ardent attachment between them. And well might her appearance have inspired even a stoic with the most thrilling love. Smooth, and fair as light was her finely-formed brow,--changing its expression as a dark ringlet fell upon it,--or was thrown back. Her eyes seemed to be souls in themselves, endued with the faculty of thinking and feeling; their brilliancy their colour, and their form, were as if they had been given by the emotion which then ruled her mind. The features were stamped with a wild and noble beauty. Nor was her form inferior to her countenance: majestic, yet playful; like a vision with all the movements of music. She was now spending the summer in Manchester, where Dawson had introduced to her his sister, and they were seldom out of each other’s presence. They walked together, and James frequently joined them.

The shadows of twilight were now mixing with the fading light of the western sky, and the hush of early eve was whispering silence in the vale where they were wandering. At length they reached the angle; on rounding which, at a short distance, was the Hermit’s Well, not famed for any medicinal properties, but for the pure water, which was said to have refreshed an old man (who, in olden times, haunted the adjacent hills,) every morning, as soon as he had left his hard couch to journey along with the sun.

On a stone beside it, there sat a young female, dressed in the rustic simplicity of a foreign country. Her age seemed only that of a child. Yet there was a feverish rolling of the eye, a changing tremor of the lips, and a gentle throbbing of the breast, which speak the mystery of a hidden sorrow, or of a superior nature. Not a blush of colour tinged the pure pallor of her face--like a statue dedicated to thought, in the midst of fragrance and light. Her hands were playing with flowers, carelessly,--for her thoughts, it was evident, were on a less tranquil subject,--and although they were, at intervals, raised to her face, yet it assumed a still sadder expression.

She was singing to herself in a low and melancholy strain, almost modulated to the still hush of the vale: and the notes seemed not so much to be proceeding from her voice, as her soul. Once or twice she started up, held her hands towards the west, and then placed them on her brow. Then she dipped them in the well, and with the pure water bathed her eyes. As soon, however, as young Dawson and his fair companions had approached within a few yards, her eyes quickly moved in the direction of the spot where they stood, and she became silent in her song.

“Ah, brother,” cried the laughing Alice, evidently not conscious of the merry tone in which she spoke, for her heart had quickly sympathized with the youthful sadness, of which she had now, unexpectedly, been a witness;--“is this your young and interesting Mrs. Twilight? What a beautiful creature! She seems to enjoy all the luxury of grief, and her heart refuses to lose a tear of its sorrow. That brow might have been kissed by the last breath of many a brother, sister, and playmate:--so pale, calm and holy.”

“She is not of our country,” added Katharine Norton. “Her dress, as well as her air, is foreign. How simply are those raven tresses braided!”

“Katharine,” said her lover, “dost thou believe in young spirits, who are said to haunt solitary places? Here, you might almost imagine, that we have intruded upon one of them. How beautiful and thoughtful that girlish face is! Now she looks towards us. Let us draw near, and entreat her to sing to us, while the stars are taking their places in the sky.”

The object of their curiosity and admiration arose meekly, as they stood before her, and allowed the hand of Katharine to be laid on her head.

“A blessing on you, fair strangers! It is night,--and do you wander abroad? It is night, for the dew is upon me. Ah! that hand now laid on my head is gentle and soothing, as that which so often presses it in my sleepless dreams, throughout the long night;

Ah! it speaks not to me: No face appears with smile, Its light I could not see, And trace the gentle wile, But bathed in perfume from the far-off land, Upon my head comes,--lies, a holy hand,”

and she raised her face to the sky so earnestly.

“But, my pretty child,” inquired Katharine, “why do you gaze upwards? Does that hand, which visits you so oft, in dreams, appear then, at this hour, from out one of those changing clouds?”