,,by ,,violence ,by ,,john ,,trevena ,author of ,bracken1 ,sleeping ,waters1 etc4 ,with an ,introduction by ,,edward ,o',,brien ,,boston ,,the ,,four ,,sees ,,company ,,publishers #aiah ,,introduction ,for eight years or more1 since ,i first became acquainted with the novels and tales of ,john ,trevena it has been my firm conviction that only ,thomas ,hardy and ,george ,moore among contemporary novelists rival his art at its best4 ,like ,meredith1 he has written for twenty years in obscurity1 and like ,meredith also he has been content with a small discriminating audience4 ,i suppose that in #aiej our grandchildren will be electing college courses on his literary method1 but meanwhile it would be more gratifying if there were even a slight public response to the quality of his individual talent4 ,trevena's novels are the expression of a passionate feeling for ,nature1 regarded as the sum of human personality and experience1 in all its moods1--benign and malign1 as man is benign and malign1 and faithful to life in the stone as well as the flower4 ,what a gallery of memorable characters they are1 ,mary and ,peter ,tavy1 ,brightly1 ,cuthbert ,orton1 ,jasper ,ramrige1 ,anthonie and ,petronel1 ,william and ,yellow ,leaf1 ,captain ,drake and dark ,pendoggat1 ,ann ,code1 ,cyril ,rossingall1 and a hundred others1 passionate and gentle1 with wind and water and earth and sky for a chorus1 and the shifting pageantry of ,nature as a stage4 ,his fourteen volumes reveal a gift for characterization equalled by none of the contemporary ,english realists1 and a ,shakespearian humor elsewhere gone from our day4 ,in ,furze the ,cruel1 ,bracken1 ,wintering ,hay1 and ,sleeping ,waters1 to name no others1 ,john ,trevena has written novels of ,dartmoor that will take their rightful place in the great ,english line1 when the honest carpentering of ,phillpotts that now overshadows them is totally forgotten4 ,the feeling has spread among ,trevena's few critical ,american admirers who have written about him1 that he is fundamentally morbid and one-sided4 ,on the contrary1 ,i know of few novelists who are more recklessly and irresistibly gay1 in whom sheer fun bubbles over so spontaneously and wholeheartedly4 ,to ignore life's harshness is simply to ignore life4 ,trevena's many-sidedness will be apparent only when there is a definitive edition of his work4 ,his habit of confining a novel to a single mood or passion of nature1 together with the fact that ,americans have only had an opportunity to read those novels by him which deal with nature's most cruel moods1 have done the reputation of ,trevena a grave injustice4 ,by ,violence and ,matrimony are ,trevena's most beautiful short tales1 and ,i hardly know which is the finer revelation of poetic grace and gentle vision4 ,their message is conveyed so quietly that they may be read for their sensuous beauty only1 and yet convey a rare pleasure4 ,if their feeling is veiled and somewhat aloof from the common ways of men1 there is none the less a fine human sympathy concealed in them1 and a golden radiance indissolubly woven into their pages4 ,if ,nature's power is inevitable in these stories1 it is also kind1 and ,i like to think that from ,by ,violence as a text a new reading of earth may be deciphered4 ,trevena has written the books of furze and heather and granite and bracken1 which outlast time on the hills of ,dartmoor4 ,but this tale hints at a fifth force which survives all the others4 ,some day1 when the wind is strong1 ,john ,trevena will write the book of ,the ,rain-drop1 which is the gentlest of all elements1 and yet outlasts the stone4 ,edward ,j4 ,o',brien ,south ,yarmouth1 ,mass4 ,february #bf1 #aiah ,,by ,,violence ,dear ,sir1-- ,the wooden enemies are out4 ,yours obediently1 ,oliver ,vorse4 ,simon ,searell read this short message as he tramped the streets of ,stonehouse1 which were full of fog1 from the sea on one side and the river on the other4 ,vorse was an uneducated man2 the mysticism of flowers was nothing to him1 the time of spring was merely a change of season1 and the most spiritual of blooms were only wooden enemies4 ,searell frowned a little1 not at the lack of education1 which was rather a peace to be desired1 but at the harshness of the words1 and went on1 wondering if the wood-anemones were to be his friends1 or little cups of poison4 ,he climbed streets of poor houses1 their unhappy windows curtained with mist1 and came out near a small church made of iron1 a cheap and gaudy thing1 almost as squalid on the outside as the houses4 ,the backslider looked at it with a shudder4 ,it was his no longer2 he had given it up2 he was forgetting those toy-like altars1 the cheap brass candlesticks1 the artificial flowers1 and all the images4 ,they were wooden and stone enemies to him now4 ,he was going deeper to find the throbbing heart of religion1 putting aside dolls and tapers and the sham of sentimentality4 ,solitude and mysticism were to be his stars through the night1 and he trusted1 with their aid1 to reach the dawn4 ,he turned from the church1 stopped at a house1 and that was squalid too1 knocked1 then wiped his boots1 as if certain of being admitted4 ,father ,damon8 he asked shortly4 ,searell's voice was sweet2 he had helped people home1 as they called it1 with his tongue1 not with his soul1 just as a sweet-toned organ calls for tears with the beauty of its sounds1 though the instrument itself is dead4 ,yes1 your reverence1 the housekeeper answered1 as shortly2 and ,searell walked up the foggy stairs murmuring to himself1 ,the wind-flowers are out1 and ,i am free4 ,father ,damon stood in a little square room hideously papered4 ,he was small1 dark1 heavy-featured1 peasant-like2 and ,searell saw at a glance that his successor was as dull in many ways as ,oliver ,vorse4 ,all that he knew had been forced upon him almost violently2 he had not gone forth gathering for himself1 he dared not1 his mind had been tilled by careful teachers1 kept under restraint1 all his side-growths pruned away1 in order that orthodoxy might develop in one large unlovely head4 ,when the order went forth to kneel1 he knelt1 and when it was time to lift his eyes to ,heaven1 he lifted them4 ,it was a life of prison1 and he could never smell the woodland through the fog of incense4 ,he knows nothing1 muttered ,searell4 ,he thinks it is daylight where he stands4 ,i come to give you information about the mission1 he said aloud1 and then began2 but the telling took some time4 ,how troublesome1 how paltry1 the details2 and ,father ,damon was so dull4 ,everything had to be repeated1 explained so carefully2 and was it worth the words8 ,the successor was very earnest1 but not enthusiastic1 that had been crushed out of him2 and ,searell grew impatient at the wooden figure1 with its simple face and child-like questions4 ,he spoke faster1 almost angrily1 desiring to get away and smell the earth2 and his eyes wandered about the room1 which was so unlovely1 not bare1 but filled with those things that make for the nakedness of life4 ,there was wanting something to galvanise that sluggish ,damon into passion1 to destroy the machinery1 turn him into a strong animal with dilating nostrils4 ,one little touch would have done it4 ,a portrait of a pretty woman upon the mantelshelf would have gone far2 but there was nothing except pictures of mythical saints4 ,you are retiring4 ,you seem strong and well1 said ,damon1 when he had obtained all the information that was required4 ,searell was in a hurry to be gone1 as the sleeper struggles to awake from a bad dream2 but that voice and its stagnant repose aroused him4 ,i am old1 ,i am sixty1 he said4 ,i am beginning again1 trying to find what the ,church has not shown me4 ,what is that8 ,light4 ,damon stared with the eyes of horror1 and put out his peasant-like hands as if to force away some weight that pressed against him2 but he said nothing4 ,i will not depart in the odour of hypocrisy4 ,listen1 said ,searell4 ,i am far from saying that the ,church does not lead towards a kind of light2 but it has not led me4 ,and this do ,i say1 that in the world at large all religion is a failure2 and ,i am going to find mine in the solitudes4 ,the truth is in the ,church4 ,it is your fault if you have missed it1 said ,damon1 in a hollow voice1 hoping that the other1 for the sake of his soul1 was mad4 ,it is there for some1 the minority4 ,you will never realize how small that minority is4 ,we cannot hasten the dawn with juggling4 ,true religion is a thing of innocence1 not a matter of spells and charms2 and it is in the innocence of ,nature that ,i will search for it4 ,i believe it exists there1 underneath the outward cruelty1 and ,i shall find it among the flowers4 ,the flower alone does not struggle with violence1 it sheds no blood2 the weed smothers1 and the bindweed chokes2 but without some fault upon the surface1 perfection might be obtained1 which cannot be4 ,look into the flower1 and you will find a condition which is not approached by man or other animals4 ,there is a purity which brings tears into your eyes4 ,eliminate violence1 and you have innocence2 obtain innocence1 and you see the light4 ,at the beginning of things we are told that the world was destroyed by water because the earth was filled with violence4 ,at the beginning of the new era we learn that the ,kingdom of ,heaven suffereth violence4 ,will you say the ,church does not rule by violence1 by threats1 suppressions1 rubrics1 and by vows8 ,i cannot understand you1 said ,damon4 ,will you understand when ,i say that the ,god of life is to be found among the flowers8 ,the other shook his head and looked frightened4 ,free speech was not allowed1 and1 if it had been1 he would not have known how to use it4 ,he walked between rubrics1 turning neither to the right hand nor to the left2 and the living lily was a thing for funeral wreaths4 ,for the altars1 artificial flowers were good enough1 as they did not require renewing1 and they looked real to the congregation1 and how they were regarded elsewhere did not concern him2 and whether they had been made by sweated labour did not concern him1 because he was not allowed to think1 and he himself was artificial1 neither man nor animal1 but a side-growth of supernaturalism4 ,let me go on now ,i have begun1 said ,searell4 ,i am leaving here1 and my words will not live after me4 ,i am a man who has tested life1 who has been through every experience1 and ,i have discovered that what morality calls bad is often good1 and that which we call virtue sometimes springs from vice4 ,the purest water runs upon mud1 only you must not rake it up4 ,in my youth ,i served as a soldier1 and upon leaving the army ,i sought the ,church1 partly to find a rest1 chiefly1 perhaps1 because my mind was mystical4 ,but nothing was revealed1 and nothing could be1 for the mystic must be free2 and the priest is a soul in prison1 and the book of his captivity is always before him4 ,here he must join his hands2 there he must lift his eyes to ,heaven1 prostrate himself1 kiss the altar1 until the time comes when he feels alone1 cut off from the ,creator of his dreams by these mechanics1 horribly alone among images2 and he seems to hear a voice asking sorrowfully1 ',what is this rule you are following8 ,who told you to do this8 ,go out upon the hills and into the woods1 for ,i am there4' ,but he cannot move1 for the time has come to join his hands again1 and the revelation passes unseen1 because he has to keep his eyes shut4 ,it is written so1 and he must obey4 ,i cannot answer you1 muttered ,damon2 and it was true1 for these words took him outside the well-worn groove and dropped him useless4 ,if ,i found the man who could1 ,i would follow him1 came the answer1 and the white-headed priest passed a hand across his eyes1 as if trying to brush the fog away4 ,i have been longing to escape for years4 ,the iron of the little mission-church has eaten into my soul4 ,i ought to have resigned8 ,why so1 when ,i performed all my duties8 ,without means ,i could not have faced the world1 for the mystic is not a practical man1 and these hands1 he said1 frowning1 they are hands to be despised1 for they have done nothing4 ,no1 do not answer me1 you cannot1 you are bound4 ,i am free4 ,a year ago ,i was left money-- ,a curse4 ,if you will1 a curse to buy a pathway to my ,heaven4 ,there was a place ,i pined for1 up on the heights of ,dartmoor1 a valley among mountains4 ,i have bought it4 ,they call it ,pixyland4 ,paganism1 cried the peasant-priest hoarsely1 and crossed himself4 ,purity1 said ,searell1 in his sweet voice4 ,pure air1 pure hills1 pure loneliness4 ,it is a place of rocks1 of heather and large-rooted ferns1 and it is very steep1 terrace rising upon terrace to the heights4 ,at the bottom of the valley are trees2 here also is a wild path and a wild stream broken upon the rocks1 and becoming whole again at the foot of a glen4 ,for centuries the place has been haunted in men's imagination1 and they have avoided it because it is a garden of--angels4 ,i am going now to make it bloom1 ,i am going to grasp that solitude and weave with it a mantle of light4 ,i am going to walk on my pixy-path and watch the shadows creeping up and down my pixy-glen2 and the growth will come1 the growth of knowledge1 and of consciousness2 and there ,i may meet my ,gardener1 driven out of the world by violence1 out of the ,church by violence1 revealing ,himself1 not tortured1 cross-laden1 and frowning1 and not awful1 but as the smiling ,guardian of the flowers4 ,there was hardly a sound in the cold room1 stiff with the antique pictures of quaint saints1 dark with that dull peasant born to be ruled2 and yet ,searell was going out with a haunted face1 passing like a phantom from the house of poverty1 and the wet board with ,mass notices1 and the waste of ground heaped up with rubbish4 ,there was a pear-tree leaning from the waste1 a tree which the builders had forgotten1 and from the tree hung a broken branch1 and at the end of that branch1 beneath the buds of spring1 were two black leaves neglected by the winter1 side by side1 struggling with one another2 for there was wind down the street which made them struggle2 but neither dropped1 and they fought on silently while the wind lasted4 ,violence even in dead things1 ,searell murmured2 and1 reaching up his hand1 he quieted those two restless leaves for ever4 ,,ii ,oliver ,vorse was lying among the wood-anemones1 and he was drunk4 ,he would have looked like a monster had his condition been rare2 but it was common1 therefore ,vorse was not abnormal1 only a fool4 ,he did not know where he was1 in the pixy-path upon the wind-flowers1 crushing so many with his sodden carcase1 while the pure pixy-water trickled underneath4 ,he had come the wrong way at the turning of the path2 instead of ascending to the house1 which was the way of difficulty1 he had stepped downwards choosing the path of ease1 as men will1 even when sober4 ,the state of his body was nothing1 as nobody would see him except ,sibley1 his wife4 ,the master was expected tomorrow1 and then he would have to pretend to be a man4 ,the moon was young1 a cradle of silver1 and the stars were wrapped in sleep-compelling clouds2 and all the light that there was seemed to come from the anemones which ,vorse was defiling4 ,the little white things were lanterns1 retaining light1 but not giving it forth1 and a stickle of water shone like a shield4 ,there was such a wonderful purity in ,nature apart from the man4 ,everything seemed to bear the mark of beauty and holiness except him4 ,it was out of the world in that fairy garden hanging between the cities and the clouds1 and the vices of the world were out of place2 and yet there was no barrier which they could not leap across4 ,a light appeared thick and heavy1 putting out the eyes of the flowers4 ,it wobbled down the natural terraces1 weather-hewn from granite1 and with it came a voice suggesting more violence1 harsh and angry1 not a voice of the clouds1 but of the street-corner1 where faces are thin and fierce1 and the paving-stones seem cruel4 ,sibley was searching for her husband1 not because she loved him1 nor requiring his company for any reason except the selfish one that the loneliness above frightened her1 and her small spirit quailed before the heaving moorland4 ,any sort of a brute was better than the ,god of the mountains4 ,she stumbled over an obstacle1 lowered the lantern1 but it was a mass of granite carved cynically by centuries of rain into the semblance of a tombstone4 ,again she stumbled1 and now it was the trunk of a tree1 phosphorescent with rottenness4 ,a third time she stumbled1 and so found her master with the rottenness of the fallen tree1 without the strength of the granite4 ,she kicked him1 struck him with the greasy lantern1 and swore4 ,get up1 dirty swine4 ,get up1 will ye8 ,mind what the master told yew8 and he'm coming in the morning4 ,oliver only growled and snored4 ,this was his form of mysticism1 and it was a kind of happiness4 ,if master had dreams1 why not he8 ,master could dream at one end of creation1 he at the other4 ,there was plenty of time4 ,sibley was only twenty-four1 ,oliver not much older4 ,when life is young the end of it is a myth1 and passion is the god4 ,there was another light down the pixy-path1 very steady and soft4 ,had it been blue it might have been a thing of the bog1 looking for the body it had thrown away1 but it was white1 and it flickered hardly at all1 for the night was smothered up and the winds were slumbering4 ,it came up the path with a kind of gliding rather terrible and there was not a sound around it4 ,the master was approaching in the night4 ,having completed the last duty sooner than he had anticipated1 he acted on the impulse4 ,there was time to escape1 so why wait for the morning8 ,and there would be the glamour of passing through the dark towards clouds and mistland4 ,the preparations of a man in earnest take no time4 ,he must put a taper in his pocket1 the last relic of the church he was leaving1 as the night would be heavy upon the pathway1 and he must walk there and see the wood-anemones in flower and feel the peace settling upon his eyelids4 ,there was no time to be lost1 for he was old1 and still a child1 with everything to learn4 ,sibley saw the figure1 and screamed1 supposing it to be a spirit doing penance for past sins with the lighted candle2 while her husband heaved and called for drink4 ,searell stood upon the path4 ,the wind-flowers were out1 but their heads were hanging in shame2 there was no spiritual life in them1 they were already dead like the two black leaves upon the pear tree1 and the destroyed of life was that heap of flesh upon them4 ,he had come away from the world to forget its violence1 and here it was upon his mystic pathway4 ,he had come to find his ,god upon the flowers1 and had found a drunken man instead4 ,he was calm1 to ,sibley he looked divine1 as he placed the candle in the niche of a gaping boulder1 and she wondered at his restraint4 ,he was a god1 for he had made her1 had saved her from street life1 and might still save ,oliver if he could bear with him4 ,they were not of his religion1 they were only devil-worshippers1 and yet he had stooped down and dragged them almost by violence from the rubbish-pit4 ,forgive 'en this once1 master1 she cried4 ,i'll see he don't fall again4 ,us didn't look vor ye till the morning1 and ,oliver went down1 and this be how he comed back4 ,there was a flat rock above the pixy-water1 and here ,searell seated himself1 saying1 ,do not speak4 ,your voice is harsh4 ,for some moments the only sounds were the deep breathing of ,vorse and the tinkling of the stream4 ,the flame of the candle did not flicker1 and ,sibley remained as motionless1 her hands clasped before her1 looking down4 ,then ,searell spoke3 ,i walked along a street1 and at a dark end of it a man and woman were fighting4 ,they were young and fierce4 ,as ,i came near1 the man threw the woman down and thumped her in the back1 ,i separated them by violence4 ,they respected my profession1 and did not greatly resent my interference4 ,so there was good in them1 but1 like young beasts1 they had run wild1 and no man had tamed them4 ,you know of whom ,i am speaking8 ,yes1 master1 ,i reckon1 she whispered4 ,at that time they were living together1 although unmarried4 ,i told them ,i should be requiring a couple to attend to me and my home1 and ,i promised to engage them if they would be legally wedded4 ,but conditions were imposed4 ,one of them has been broken tonight4 ,it won't ever happen again1 master4 ,i have myself to think of4 ,there must be selfishness1 said ,searell4 ,there is no escaping from it4 ,if one condition is broken1 another may be4 ,you remember the other8 ,yes1 master--no children4 ,the words sounded harsh1 in that fairy place1 and they seemed to agree rather with the breathing of the drunken man than with the ringing of the stream4 ,perhaps ,i am hard1 but ,i have my peace of mind to consider4 ,a child's cry1 a child's mischievous ways1 would destroy it4 ,there is no room in my house for children1 and this is not the place for them4 ,i have a search to make1 he murmured4 ,the scream of infants would lead me far astray4 ,you will remember8 ,us ha' no other home1 master4 ,you will remember8 ,yes1 master4 ,i will forget what has happened tonight1 said ,searell1 bending from the rock1 dipping his hand into the pixy-water4 ,let this be a time of regeneration for us all4 ,do you respect a ceremony8 ,yes1 master1 ,i reckon1 she said again1 though she could not understand him4 ,we will lead a new life1 he said1 with a smile which was visible in the light of candle and lantern4 ,sibley stepped forward as ,oliver lifted himself with heavy movements1 and muttered a half-conscious ,ask your pardon1 master4 ,searell brought up a little of the bright water1 and sprinkled the woman1 then the man1 without any other sign1 and with the words in his soft mystic voice1 ,i receive you into the new life4 ,then he picked up the taper and went1 leaving the man and woman afraid of him4 ,,iii ,after a year in ,pixyland1 what was there8 ,a garden1 a place of almost unearthly beauty1 and through it the master moved slowly1 clad no longer in the clothes of religion1 nor even in the garments of respectability2 his coat sack-like1 its pockets bulging with bulbs and tubers1 and his hair was in white ringlets1 and his hands were often in the warm earth1 grubbing out furze-roots4 ,the terrestrial paradise had been attained2 down the steep slopes poured a cascade of colour1 the pixy-path was alight all night with white1 out of the pixy-water rose golden osmundas and the ghostly spira2 and ,searell's face was also ghostly1 it was hungry1 and the eyes were dull4 ,it was not the face of the priest who had built up the mission1 for that had been eager4 ,it was not the face of the mystic who had walked up the path by candlelight1 for that had been happy4 ,it was not the face of the spiritualist who feels he is conquering the atmosphere1 nor that of a dreamer4 ,it was the face of one who was sad4 ,searell had discovered1 though he would not own it to himself1 that lonely happiness is impossible4 ,what was a discovery if no friend could be told of it8 ,what was the loveliness of his garden when there was no one to share it with8 ,what would ,heaven itself be if he was there alone8 ,there must be sympathy1 and without it life is lost4 ,intellect was losing its edge4 ,he almost forgot what he had come there for4 ,instead of ascending towards more light he was falling into grosser darkness4 ,he did not even dream2 he was sluggish1 and oblivion was over him2 which must happen when a man cuts himself free from the hearts and brains of others4 ,his cry was no longer the triumphant one of strength and self-confidence4 ,it was the cry ,why hast ,thou forgotten me8 as he walked heavily1 and the weight of his own presence oppressed him2 and then he would mutter aloud1 ,come and see my garden4 ,i must show you the flowers1 though there was nobody to hear4 ,that was all3 he was a gardener2 he wanted to show his flowers1 shrubs1 ferns1 he wanted to delight some one with his bogplants1 he longed to see admiration dawning upon a human face1 love for the beautiful kindling in human eyes2 and so he came to crave for human life1 human words and beauty1 human sympathy1 even human sin and shame and violence rather than the innocence and purity and gentleness of ,god among the flowers4 ,master1 where be ,i to plant this8 ,master1 will ye pay these bills8 ,such were the almost brutal questions around him4 ,he had asked for solitude2 and now he longed for passion1 earthly love4 ,it was winter1 when the nights were wild and the evenings intolerable2 and during one of them the sound of a quarrel reached his ears4 ,oliver and ,sibley had not been satisfactory4 ,if they had abstained from the vices1 they had not learnt to love one another2 and1 as ,searell listened then1 he saw the violent streets and that boy and girl tussle in the dirt4 ,he went down1 and at the foot of the stairs heard the woman's angry voice1 ,yew ha' ruined me2 and then the growl of ,oliver1 ,shut your noise4 ,master be moving over4 ,through the doorway ,searell saw them1 like beasts half-tamed1 longing to break into their natural habits1 but dreading the master's whip4 ,were they worse than they had been8 ,was it the effect of solitude upon them8 ,sibley had no small amusements such as women desire4 ,oliver had no love for his home life4 ,it seemed to ,searell that indifference was settling upon them all4 ,he advanced into the kitchen1 stood between them as he had done before1 looked at the man1 and noticed something new1 a kind of eagerness1 which he tried to suppress2 then at the woman1 and here too was a difference1 a softer face and eyes half ashamed4 ,perhaps1 then1 they could love1 and a word from him might kindle the spark into flame4 ,i interfered between you once before4 ,it was for your good4 ,no1 master1 said ,sibley4 ,i think so1 he said1 startled by her independence and rudeness4 ,it would ha' been better if yew had passed by and let we bide1 she went on2 and when ,oliver growled his ,shut your noise1 it was with less anger than usual4 ,us could ha' done what us had a mind to then1 she said4 ,this be a prison4 ,we are all in prison1 if you can understand me4 ,the walls are all round1 and we cannot get over them4 ',tis best vor volk to live as 'em be meant to1 said ,sibley4 ,and again ,searell was amazed4 ,how had this woman obtained the power and the courage to answer him8 ,and to beat him1 for he was beaten4 ,he had no words to reply to that simple philosophy1 and to the woman who appealed from his decision4 ,he had played the ,god with them1 had brought them out of chaos1 and had given them his commandments2 and he was no ,god1 but a weak man2 and they were not his children4 ,he went back to his books1 there were no flowers except ,christmas-roses and snowdrops1 shivering things of winter1 and tried to dream4 ,nothing came4 ,it seemed to him there was less mysticism in his mistland than in the dirty streets of ,stonehouse2 and1 while he mused1 that world came knocking at his mind1 calling in the dialect of ,sibley1 ',tis best vor volk to live as 'em be meant to4 ,his own body1 his sluggishness and unhappiness1 convicted him of error2 but1 if he was wrong1 what of all religion which tells of a ,god of mysticism1 and of his own in particular1 which1 at that very season of the year1 rejoiced at the birth of a ,child-creator by mysticism not through ,love8 ,and at his mind was hot1 red-blooded passion1 a crude and awful thing1 love for those things which make men horrible1 love for dirt and the roots1 not for bud and bloom2 and a contempt and hatred for cold morality and the spells muttered by candlelight2 and the message of the flowers was this3 ,through the agency of others1 through the eyes of those who are loved and loving1 not by the confinement of self1 souls find the dawn4 ,mrs4 ,vorse1 said ,searell one day1 the yellow aconites were out1 the first colour of the year1 and he was going to look at them1 you have changed4 ,sibley had her back towards him1 engaged in cleaning1 and she was wearing1 as she always did1 the enveloping apron of the country1 which hung from her shoulders and surrounded her body like a sack4 ,he could not see the flush upon her face4 ,your voice is softer4 ,you sing at your work4 ,you are happy4 ,i hain't1 master1 she whispered4 ,i feels1 master1 ,i wants to be happy1 but ,i be frightened4 ,of the loneliness8 ,not that1 master4 ,i can't tell ye1 but ,i be frightened4 ,you and your husband get along better4 ,you are quieter4 ,i have not heard you quarrel for some time4 ,there's good in ,oliver1 she said4 ,i thought so1 he murmured4 ,but ,i have not been able to bring it out4 ,he went to see the aconites1 but they were cold1 and made him shiver4 ,it was warm innocence he wanted1 not the purity which numbed2 and1 down below1 the slopes were naked1 the path rustled with dead oakleaves1 and the pixy-water was in flood4 ,the violence of the world was there1 and nothing could drive it out4 ,is your wife well1 ,oliver8 he asked4 ,i heard a sound in your room early this morning4 ,it seemed to me she was ill4 ,vorse was uprooting bracken1 which is hard labour1 and he made no pause when his master spoke4 ,i ha' never knowed she better1 he answered4 ,she frets less4 ,there is a womanliness about her now which is pleasant4 ,you1 also1 have very much improved4 ,you speak to her gently4 ,you do not drink now8 ,her made me give it up4 ,had ,i nothing to do with it8 ,no1 master1 said ,oliver bluntly4 ,i couldn't ha' given it up vor yew4 ,i did try1 but ,i couldn't1 ,i promised to give it up vor ,sibley4 ,when8 ,months ago4 ,her told me something1 and 'twur then ,i promised to give it up vor ,sibley4 ,what did she tell you8 ,her had received a message from ,god4 ,these were strange words from the mouth of ,oliver ,vorse4 ,her took 'em from yew1 master1 he added apologetically4 ,searell moved aside1 gazing at the black snakelike fern-roots4 ,then he lifted up his eyes in torment4 ,his creatures finding in the garden what he had missed1 taking his ,god away from him6 the dull ,sibley his superior1 reaping the harvest that he had sown6 the dull ,oliver reforming for her1 and not for him6 ,and he had nothing1 he was alone1 as much alone in his garden as in the mission-church1 obeying the printed rubrics and hearing the call1 ,who told you to do this8 ,go out and find ,me1 for ,i am in the solitudes4 ,you are educating yourselves1 he suggested1 turning back4 ,you and ,sibley are improving your minds by learning4 ,i have done that much for you4 ,oliver said nothing1 his head was down1 and his hands grubbed at the great roots4 ,there was no answer to make4 ,it was evening1 the time of restlessness1 and ,searell came downstairs2 his study was above1 and he came down only to change his rooms1 to get into another atmosphere1 that he might find rest for his mind4 ,the kitchen door was open4 ,oliver was seated in a low chair1 and ,sibley was upon his knees1 her arms around his neck1 her head upon his shoulder4 ,both were motionless as if asleep4 ,searell went away4 ,this time he could not interfere1 and the noise of the wind became to him the cry of the wild world4 ,men must be violent1 it cried4 ,men were made for passion1 it cried2 and with the strength of the body1 rather than by the gropings of the mind1 they shall clear the mists from their eyes1 and by means of the act of creation find ,creator4 ,,iv ,a perfect evening is often the prelude to a stormy night4 ,it was such an evening in spring again1 when the wind-flowers were out1 and an old man riding off the moor paused beside ,searell's boundary-wall to prophesy a tempest4 ,this was a white old man with queer blue eyes1 and he too was a mystic under the spell of solitude2 but1 unlike ,searell1 he had his ties1 without which no man can be happy4 ,by day he roamed1 and at evening1 by the fireside1 told the children small and great his own weird tales of ,dartmoor4 ,there were no restless evenings for him4 ,searell shook his head almost angrily4 ,he lived upon the face of the moor1 wrapped himself in its secrets1 yet he could not foretell its weather4 ,the passing cloud had no message1 the river with its changing cry told him nothing4 ,he went into the house4 ,where is your wife8 he said to ,oliver4 ,her bain't well1 master4 ,the man was nervous1 and his eyes were large4 ,who is that woman in the kitchen8 ,i had to get she up to do the cooking4 ,you have neglected your work today4 ,i be cruel sorry1 master4 ,what is the matter with your wife8 ,yesterday ,i heard her singing4 ,nothing serious1 master2 but the man was listening all the time1 as if dreading to hear a call1 a cry of pain1 or the voice of life coming along the moor4 ,the old man was right4 ,so soon as night began1 the ,dartmoor tempest broke2 there was no rain1 nor thunder1 but a dry and mighty wind which made the rocks shake2 and through the storm came a weird light defying the wind to blow it out1 that light which does not enter the lowlands1 but lives upon mountains2 and ,searell stood at his high writing desk1 and sought out legends of the wind4 ,if there were sounds in the house he could not hear them4 ,deep in mysticism1 he read on of the winged clouds which brought the tempests1 and of their symbols1 the rock-shattering worm1 the stone of wisdom which tears open the secrets of life1 the rosy flower which restores the dead1 the house-breaking hand of glory2 and the eagle symbol of lightning1 and the rushing raven returning to ,odin4 ,and he read of the voices in the wind1 while boulders were grinding along the river-bed2 of ,hulda in the forest singing for baby-souls2 of the ,elf maidens alluring youths astray2 of ,thoth staggering into oblivion with brave men's spirits2 of ,hermes with his winged talaria1 playing the lyre and shutting fast all the myriad eyes of the stars4 ,and something more he read about the storm-wind4 ,it was not always taking away1 it was giving2 it was a bringer of new life1 coming in spring as a young god with golden hair1 breaking the spell of winter1 bringing a magic pipe to make folk dance4 ,at one time it lulls into a mystic sleep1 at another it restores to new life1 said ,searell1 speaking loudly and strongly1 partly to reassure himself1 because the tumult was frightening4 ,what is this wind bringing to me1 more of the mystic sleep1 or the new life8 ,he paced up and down the room1 which shook as if with earthquake2 and hidden from him by a partition of lath and plaster was the staring horror of a dream1 one small lamp1 turned down1 giving the half-light which suggests terror more than darkness1 and on the bed a woman moaning1 and against the wall a weak man groaning4 ,let them rave and scream1 no sound of theirs could have pierced that lath and plaster1 for the god of violence was fighting on their side4 ,there be only one way4 ,that was how ,oliver had been muttering the last hour4 ,no1 no1 she sobbed4 ,what can us do8 ,master be hard1 he bides by his word4 ,he ha' been good to we in all else1 but this be our ruin4 ,no1 no4 ,she could not hear him1 but she knew what he was saying4 ,back on them streets again4 ,no home to cover we1 no food4 ,us ha' lived easy too long to stand it4 ',twould end in the river4 ,better to lose the one than our two selves4 ,no1 no1 her lips made the words1 but not the sounds4 ',tis only a matter o' two minutes1 he cried fiercely4 ,then us be free again4 ,he left the wall1 crossed to the bed1 bent down1 cried into her ear1 ,it be awful outside4 ,the watter be roaring down under4 ,us mun live1 woman4 ,sibley lifted herself with a face of death1 and screamed as if it had been the last effort of her life1 screamed again and again2 but what was that in the wind8 ,not even a whisper2 while ,searell read on of the ,sons of ,kalew1 and the miracle of their harps which changed winter into summer and death into life4 ,oliver ,vorse was staggering downstairs weeping2 and outside the wind caught him1 dragged him hither and thither like a straw1 stuffing his mouth with vapour1 and flung him against bellowing walls and into shrieking bushes2 and still he protected what he held by instinct1 and when he fell upon the steep descent he let his body be bruised and his face torn by that same instinct which makes the timid beast a savage thing4 ,it took no time4444 ,he was back in the ghastly lamplight1 staring at a ghastly face which was the reflection of his own2 and the master was still in his musing1 and knew nothing4 ,let me die1 ,i'd sooner1 ,sibley muttered simply2 but ,oliver could not hear4 ,he was leaning against the wall again2 then he went on his knees1 and then he turned his back upon the bed4 ,that face1 the black hair1 a blood-stain visible1 they frightened him4 ,he passed into a kind of agony2 he was so cold and his body was dry1 and there was a lightness in his limbs4 ,the watter wur roaring--roaring4 ,there warn't no wind1 not there4 ,it wur sheltered down under1 and them little white flowers scarce shook4 ,he turned his head and saw those staring eyes4 ,bain't what yew thinks1 he howled4 ,there wur moss1 plenty on't4 ,i made a bed beside the rocks4 ,it bain't cold1 not very2 but the watter be rising--rising--rising4 ,so was the tempest4 ,it would be nearing its end1 and would drop as suddenly as it had arisen2 and ,searell was smiling as he read of the beasts of the forest weeping as they listened to the song-wind of ,gunadhya4 ,i can't go out4 ,might see it crawling up-along1 trying to come back1 little white thing in the dark4 ,oliver could see ,sibley was speaking1 making with her agonized mouth the shape of words1 ,go out4 ,he could not1 dared not1 had not even the courage to open the door and look down the dimly lighted horror of the stairs4 ,they were in the last stage of weakness1 the one morally1 the other physically2 and the almighty strength of the wind gave them nothing except the security of its tumult4 ,it'll be over1 he shuddered4 ,the watter wur coming up all white4 ,i couldn't bide there--there wur drops o' summat on my face1 and 'twur so helpless1 and it looked up4 ,blue1 warn't 'em blue1 woman8' ,sibley could not have heard1 but1 with all those instincts quivering1 she recognized the word upon his lips and tried to nod4 ,innocent4 ,hadn't done nought4 ,would ha' kep we good1 made we man and wife4 ,i'll go down4 ,i'd go down if ,i dared--the little chin wur agin my cheek4 ,i'll never face the dark4 ,i'd see it move1 and the little drowning bubbles on the watter4 ,be it over now8 ,he glared at ,sibley as if she could answer2 and she stared back1 asking1 pleading1 imploring him to play the man and face the night again2 but he grovelled against the wall and shuddered1 damp with an awful sweat1 and the weird light upon the mountain-tops went out1 because other clouds were coming up1 having travelled far since evening1 and the darkness became real as the roarings of the dry wind decreased4 ,it was getting on towards midnight1 and those mighty winds were tired4 ,go6 came a sudden scream2 and ,searell heard the echo of it and started4 ,the cry seemed to have its origin in the storm4 ,he closed his book1 listened1 heard nothing more except the coherent bellowing1 and then he answered1 ,i will4 ,certainly the word had sounded1 and as certainly he was alone4 ,the ,vorses would have been asleep for hours4 ,i will walk along the path4 ,it is sheltered down there1 he murmured4 ,this may be the night appointed1 the time of revelation1 the time of young life4 ,this is the mad music of the spring1 the shattering of the chains of winter4 ,the growth follows4 ,it is the birth-night4 ,he wrapped a coat around him and went4 ,during those few minutes the wind had much decreased2 in another hour it would be calm and clear2 and then the awful stillness of the sunrise and the perpetual wonder of the daylight4 ,there was again a kind of light1 for the raven-clouds had gone by and the swan-clouds were crossing2 and the wind was now the magic piper who drives away care1 and with his merry music sets ,nature capering4 ,searell was on the pixy-path and the wind-flowers were jigging2 it was ghostly1 but a dance1 not a solemn marching as in autumn1 when the leaves fall processionally downwards4 ,it was recessional spring1 when the leaves awoke1 as it were1 from their moon-loved sleep1 preserved in unfading youth and beauty by that sleep1 and leapt back at the piper's music to the branches1 kissing their ancient oaks with the fervour of young love4 ,every flower had a moist eye and a sweet heart2 and the pixy-water rang for festival4 ,one turn ,searell made1 seeing nothing1 because his eyes struggled with the mist2 another1 and he stopped4 ,there was a wonder1 a miracle1 a revelation among his wind-flowers1 upon the edge of the rising water1 a sleeping silent wonder which made him thrill4 ,it has no bodily existence4 ,when ,i come back it will be gone4 ,it was still there1 and now the water was almost level with the bed of moss1 and some of the flowers were struggling to keep their pale heads above2 and it was silent1 this child of the morning1 lying upon its back in the moss1 numbed1 perhaps1 though the night was not cold1 and there was a beauty upon the small face1 not the beauty which makes for violence1 but that which gives peace1 the beauty of innocence2 and there was also upon it that perfect weakness1 and the submission of weakness which is one of the strongest things created4 ,and it seemed to be growing there like the wind-flowers1 as fragile1 but as hardy1 and among them2 for white anemones had been blown across each eye and across the mouth1 and they gleamed from each ear1 and the chin was another edged with pink1 and all of them seemed to be jealous of the child4 ,and it comes into the world by violence1 ,searell murmured4 ,even then he hardly knew what had happened4 ,he could not think1 for his mind was full of the wonder1 and commonplace ideas would not enter4 ,he picked up the child reverently2 there was no motion1 no sound1 no opening of bue eyes2 had there been a shrill scream1 the spell might have been broken--the contact was dreadful to him4 ,he was tending a sacred mystery1 elevating a sacrament newly consecrated1 something which a few hours ago had been leaping like a spark in the place of his dreams1 and had been flung as lightning upon his path to strike his heart open4 ,here was the answer of the flowers4 ,to men the ,creator was as a child1 for the child is the only thing all-powerful and the only thing all-pure4 ,about the house ,searell seemed to hear the sound of groaning like the moan of the dying wind1 and there were movements once or twice as of a wounded body4 ,a dusty prie-dieu stood in the comer of the study4 ,this he placed near the fire1 a cushion upon it1 and then the child2 and lighted a candle upon each side4 ,he stood with his arms folded1 the ,omega of life worshipping the ,alpha of it1 until all things seemed to be new and strange1 as upon a resurrection morning1 and he awoke from the sleep of death and felt the spring4 ,the winter was over and past1 the time of the opening of flowers had come1 and the voice of creation stirred upon the garden2 and the change had been wrought by violence4 ,it was necessary to speak and find sympathy4 ,he hated the solitude because no one shared it with him2 he had grown to hate the wonderful garden because there was no one to wonder at it with him2 he hated himself because no one cared for him4 ,oliver6 he called1 breaking the horrible quietness1 forgetful of the time4 ,sibley6 ,movements followed1 again like wounded bodies1 and ,searell remembered that the woman was ill and he had done nothing for her4 ,he went to the door2 it opened1 and ,vorse was cowering against the wall1 his hand upon his eyes4 ,searell hardly noticed the horrid smoking of the lamplight1 the eyes upon that bed1 the guilty1 frightened man4 ,still full of himself1 he cried3 ,come and see what ,i have found4 ,i couldn't do it1 master1 moaned ,oliver4 ,i took it down1 but the eyes opened4 ',don't ye hurt me1' it said4 ,i be just come4 ,bain't time vor me to go4' ,still ,searell would not understand4 ,come1 he said impatiently4 ,she was upon my path1 among my flowers4 ,then life stirred again upon the bed1 and ,sibley drew herself up with ravenous eyes and muttered3 ,alive--alive6 ,soon the room was like a chapel4 ,the smoky lamp had been extinguished1 the prie-dieu stood beside the bed1 the candles cast a warm1 soft light2 and outside upon the moor was peace4 ,even the merry piper had become weary and had put all things to sleep till daybreak2 while ,oliver ,vorse upon his knees confessed the sin which had been forced upon him4 ,us dared not keep she4 ,sibley dared1 but not me4 ,if a child wur born1 us must go1 yew said4 ,i couldn't face it1 but her would ha' faced it4 ,us be ready to go now1 he said boldly4 ,i ha' these hands4 ,i'll fight4 ,i ha' the maiden to fight vor4 ,her lives4 ,her moves on my bosom1 cried ,sibley4 ,look at 'em1 master4 ,did ye ever see the like8 ,what made you kinder1 ,sibley1 more attentive to me1 soft and tender8 ',twur the child coming1 master4 ,what made you sober1 ,oliver1 fond of your wife8 ,what was it stopped the quarelling8 ,i minded the little child1 master4 ,there was something tender in their illiterate speech4 ,you cast her away4 ,the sin is mine1 so is the atonement4 ,and she is mine4 ,she'm mine1 master1 murmured ,sibley4 ,i found her among my flowers1 the reward of my searching4 ,she is the answer1 he said4 ,let her be to you the daughter of love1 and to me the daughter of violence4 ,oliver1 he cried1 turning1 bring up water from the pixy-stream4 ,as the sun rises ,i will baptise--my child4 ,yew'm fond o' she1 master8 ,she is mine1 he said1 with the old impatience4 ,and we1 master8 ,i am old and you are young1 said ,searell4 ,but we are all beginning life1 we know nothing4 ,we will try to find another and a better pathway4 ,he went back to his rooms to rest1 but not to sleep1 for there was something burning inside him like a coal from the altar2 and a new light crept upon the moor1 giving it form1 changing it from black to purple4 ,it was the dawn4 99 99 99 99 99 ,,business ,,is ,,business ,tavy river rises on ,cranmere1 flows down ,tavy ,cleave1 divides the parish of ,mary ,tavy from that of ,peter ,tavy1 passes ,tavy ,mount1 and leaves ,dartmoor at ,tavystock1 or ,tavistock as it is now spelt4 ,each ,dartmoor river confers its name1 or a portion of it1 upon certain features of its own district4 ,the ,okements meet at ,okehampton1 and one of them has ,oke ,tor1 which has been corrupted into ,ock and even ,hock4 ,even the tiny ,lyd has its ,lydford4 ,each river also has its particular characteristic4 ,the ,east ,okement is the river of ferns1 the ,teign the river of woods1 the ,taw the river of noise1 the ,dart the river of silence1 and the ,tavy is the river of rocks4 ,tavy ,cleave from the top of ,ger ,tor1 presents a grand and solemn spectacle of rock masses piled one upon the other2 it is a valley of rocks1 relieved only by the foaming little river4 ,mary ,tavy is a straggling village of unredeemed ugliness1 wild and bare4 ,it lies exposed on the side of the moor and is swept by every wind1 for not a bush or even a bramble will be found upon the rounded hills adjoining4 ,once the place was a mining centre of some importance4 ,the black moor has been torn into pits and covered with mounds by the tin-streamers in early days1 and more recently by the copper-miners4 ,all around ,mary ,tavy appear the dismal ruins of these mines1 or wheals as they are called4 ,peter ,tavy1 across the river1 is not so dreary1 but is equally exposed4 ,this region during the winter is one of the most inhospitable spots to be found in ,england4 ,in ,peter ,tavy there lived1 until quite recently1 an elderly man1 who might have posed as the most incompetent creature in the ,west ,country4 ,it is hardly necessary to say he did not do so2 on the contrary1 he posed as a many-sided genius4 ,he occupied a hideous little tin house1 which would have been condemned at a glance in those parts of the country where building by-laws are in existence4 ,at one time and another he had borrowed the dregs of paint-pots1 and had endeavoured to decorate the exterior4 ,as a result1 one portion was black1 another white1 and another blue4 ,over the door a board appeared setting forth the accomplishments of ,peter ,tavy1 as he may here be called4 ,according to his own showing he was a clock-maker2 he was a photographer2 he was a ,dartmoor guide2 he was a dealer in antiquities2 he was a ,reeve attached to the ,manor of ,lydford2 and he was a purveyor of manure4 ,this board was in its way a masterpiece of fiction4 ,once upon a time a resident1 anxious to put ,peter's powers to the test1 sent him an old kitchen-clock to repair4 ,he examined and gave it as his opinion that the undertaking would require time4 ,when a year had passed the owner of the clock requested ,peter to report progress4 ,he replied that the work was getting on1 but ',twas a slow business and 'twould take another six months to make a job of it4 ,at the end of that period the clock was removed1 almost by force1 and it was then discovered that ,peter had sold most of the interior mechanism to a singularly innocent tourist as ,druidical remains unearthed by him in one of the shafts of ,wheal ,betsy4 ,as a photographer he carried his impudence still further4 ,some one had given him an old camera and a few plates4 ,he began at once to inveigle visitors--chiefly elderly ladies1 half-dafty maidens he impolitely called them--down ,tavy ,cleave1 where he would pose them on rocks and pretend to photograph them with plates which had already been exposed more than once4 ,if ,i doan't get a picture first time1 ,i goes on till ,i do1 he explained4 ,once1 when ,peter announced 'twas a fine picture this time1 a gentleman of the party reminded him he had omitted to remove the cap from the lens4 ,peter was not to be caught that way3 ,i took 'en1 he said1 ,i took 'en1 but yew was yawning4 ,as a guide upon the moor ,peter was an equal failure4 ,he ought to have known ,dartmoor after living upon it all his life2 the truth was1 he would have lost his way upon the road to ,tavistock had he strayed from it a moment4 ,visitors1 lured by the notice-board1 had approached him from time to time with the request to be guided to ,cranmere4 ,peter would take them along ,tavy ,cleave for a mile1 then assure them a storm was coming up and it would be necessary to seek shelter as soon as possible1 hurry them back1 and demand half-a-guinea in return for his services4 ,peter had never been to ,cranmere ,pool1 and had no idea how to get there4 ,sometimes a party would insist upon proceeding1 in spite of the guide's warning1 and in such cases the bewildered ,peter would have to be shown the way home by his victims4 ,he would demand the half-guinea all the same4 ,as a dealer in antiquities nothing came amiss4 ,broken pipes1 bits of crockery1 old mining-tools1 any rubbish rotting or rusting upon the peat were gathered and classified as ,druidical remains4 ,no one knew where ,peter had picked up the word ,druidical2 but it was certain he picked up their supposed remains on the piece of black moor which surrounded his house4 ,sometimes1 it was said1 he found a tourist foolish enough to purchase a selection of this rubbish4 ,what he meant by describing himself as an official receiving pay from the ,duchy of ,cornwall nobody ever knew4 ,as a ,reeve 7another word he had picked up somewhere7 of the ,manor of ,lydford he believed himself to be intimately connected with the lord of that manor1 who is the ,prince of ,wales4 ,he knew that august personage was interested somehow in three feathers4 ,the public-house in the neighbourhood called ,the ,plume of ,feathers had something to do with it he was sure1 though he had never seen goosey's feathers same as they on the sign-board4 ,once he thought seriously of erecting three feathers above his own door1 and for that purpose captured a neighbor's goose and plucked three large quills from one of its wings1 accompanying his action with the bland request1 ,now bide still1 goosey-gander1 do' ye4 ,he could not make his three goose-quills graceful and drooping1 like those upon the sign-board1 and that was probably why ,peter refrained from doing the ,lord of ,dartmoor the compliment of assuming his crest4' ,the village of ,peter ,tavy1 like most spots upon ,dartmoor1 has its summer visitors2 and these were sure1 sooner or later1 to make the acquaintance of ,peter ,tavy the man4 ,they thought him a harmless idiot1 and he reciprocated4 ,one summer a journalist came upon the moor for his health and1 desiring to combine business with pleasure1 he wrote a descriptive sketch of ,peter1 and this was published in due course in a paper which by a curious accident reached ,peter himself4 ,the man was furious4 ,he went about the two villages with the paper in his hand1 his scanty hair bristling1 his watery eyes bulging1 his mouth twisted into a very ugly shape4 ,it was a good thing the journalist had departed1 for just then ,peter was angry and vindictive enough for anything4 ,presently he met his clergyman2 he made towards him1 held out the paper1 and1 regardless of grammar1 cried out1 ,that's me4 ,he does not mention you by name1 said the clergyman4 ,he says the man in the iron house wi' notice-board atop4 ,he's got down the notice-board as 'tis1 spluttered ,peter4 ,he says a ginger-headed man--that's me2 face like a rabbit--that's me4 ,it was as a purveyor of manure that ,peter found his level1 if not a living4 ,probably he received financial assistance from his sister1 who lived across the river at ,mary ,tavy4 ,she had been formerly a lady's maid in ,torquay2 after more than thirty years' service her mistress had died1 and had bequeathed to her a modest income1 and on this she lived comfortably in retirement1 crossing ,tavy ,cleave occasionally to visit her eccentric brother4 ,she1 too1 was said to be eccentric1 but that was only because she was fond of getting full value for a halfpenny4 ,mary ,tavy was a spinster1 and ,peter ,tavy was a bachelor4 ,on those occasions when some ne'er-do-well attempted to annex ,mary and her income1 the good woman's eccentricity had revealed itself very strongly2 and as for ,peter1 his own sister would remark1 ,women never could abide he4 ,the ,tavies always passed ,christmas together4 ,one year ,peter would go across and stop with ,mary for three days2 the next1 ,mary would come across and stop with ,peter for three days4 ,their rule on this matter was fixed2 the visit never extended beyond three days1 and ,peter would not have dreamed of going across to ,mary if it were the turn of ,mary to come across to him4 ,peter had a little cart and a pony to draw it4 ,how he came by the pony nobody knew1 but as it was never identified no hard questions were asked4 ,every year a few ,dartmoor ponies are missed when the drift takes place2 and at the same time certain individuals take to owning shaggy little steeds which have no past history4 ,when a brand has been skilfully removed1 one ,dartmoor pony is very much like a score of others4 ,to drive ,peter into a corner over his title to the pony which pulled his shameful little cart--it was hardly better than a packing-case on wheels--would have been impossible4 ,he had hinted that it was a present from the ,prince of ,wales as a slight return for services rendered2 and as no one else in the ,tavy district was in the habit of communicating with the lord of the manor1 his statement could not easily be refuted4 ,with this pony and unlicensed cart ,peter would convey people from time to time to the station at ,mary ,tavy1 making a charge of eighteen pence1 which was not exorbitant considering the dangers and difficulties of the road4 ,for conveying his sister from her home to his at ,christmas he made a charge of one shilling2 when she expostulated1 as she always did1 and quoted the proverb ,charity begins at home1 ,peter invariably replied with another proverb1 ,business is business4 ,few will have forgotten the winter of #ahha1 when snow fell for over a week1 and every road was lost and every cleave choked4 ,snow was lurking in sheltered nooks upon the tops of ,ger ,tor and the ,high ,willhays range as late as the following ,may4 ,snow upon ,dartmoor does not always mean snow elsewhere4 ,it is possible sometimes to stand knee-deep upon the high moor and look down upon a stretch of country without a flake upon it1 and so on to the sugared and frosted hills of ,exmoor2 but no part of the country escaped the great fall of #ahha4 ,every one on the moor can tell of some incident in connection with that ,christmas4 ,at the two ,tavies they tell how ,peter tried to drive ,mary from his village to hers1 how he failed in the attempt1 and how both of them remained good business people to the end4 ,it was ,mary's turn to visit ,peter that year1 and she arrived upon ,christmas ,eve1 quaintly but warmly dressed1 a small boy carrying her basket1 which contained the articles that she deemed necessary for her visit1 together with a bottle of spiced wine1 some cream cakes1 and a plum-pudding as big as her head4 ,the boy said a good many uncomplimentary things about that pudding as they climbed up from the ,tavy1 comparing it to the ,giant's ,pebble higher up the cleave4 ,when ,mary raised her black-mittened hand and threatened him with chastisement1 the urchin lifted out the pudding in its cloth1 set it at her feet1 and told her to carry it herself1 as it was enough to pinch a strong man dragging that great thing up the cleave2 so ,mary had to finish the journey hugging the pudding like a baby4 ,she was walking to save herself sixpence4 ,peter had offered to come for her with his pony and cart1 the charge to be one shilling1 payable as follows--sixpence when she got into the cart and sixpence when she got out2 but ,mary had told him that she could get a boy to carry her basket for half that amount2 when he protested she reminded him that business was business4 ,a light sprinkle of snow had fallen1 just enough to dust over the rocks and furze-bushes2 but it was very cold1 the clouds were low and wood-like1 and there was in the air that feel of snow which animals can nearly always detect1 and men who live on the moors can sometimes4 ,peter and ,mary spent the evening in simple style4 ,peter sat on one side of the fire1 ,mary on the other2 sometimes ,peter stirred to get fresh turves for the fire2 sometimes ,mary got up to heap the little table with good cheer and place it midway between the old-fashioned chairs4 ,they both smoked1 they both took snuff1 they both drank spiced wine4 ,towards evening they talked of old times and became merry4 ,then they talked of old people and grew sentimental1 dropping tears into their hot wine4 ,peter got up and kissed ,mary1 but ,mary did not care for ,peter's caresses and told him so1 whereupon ,peter advised her to get along home then4 ,mary declared she would1 but changed her mind when she thought of the gloomy cleave and the ,tavy in winter flood2 so they went on smoking1 taking snuff1 and drinking spiced wine4 ,the next day was fine1 and ,peter and ,mary went to chapel4 ,mary gave her brother a penny to put into the plate1 but he put it into his pocket instead2 he was always a man of business4 ,she also gave him a bright new florin as a ,christmas present4 ,he had made her understand1 when the coin was safe in his possession1 that he should still demand a shilling for driving her home1 and over that point they wrangled for some time4 ,in the evening1 when ,peter had fallen asleep over the fire1 ,mary repented of her kindness and sought to regain the florin2 but ,peter had it hidden away safely in his boot4 ,when the time came for ,mary to start homewards it was snowing fast1 and she did not like the prospect4 ,although it was not much after three o'clock1 the outlook was exceedingly dark2 there was an unpleasant silence upon the moor1 and the snowflakes were larger and falling thickly4 ,but the pony was harnessed to the unsteady conveyance1 and ,peter was waiting2 before ,mary could utter a word of protest1 he had bundled her in and they were off4 ,twould have paid me better to bide home1 said ,mary4 ,do'ye sit quiet1 ,peter growled4 ,then he added1 ,where's the shillun8 ,there now1 doan't ye worry about the shillun1 said ,mary2 ,i'll give it ye when ,i'm safe and sound to home wi' no bones broke4 ,shillun be poor pay vor driving this weather1 said her business-like brother4 ,now and again a light appeared from one of the cottages4 ,the pony struggled on with its head down1 while the silence seemed to grow more unearthly1 and the darkness increased1 and the snow became a solid descending mass4 ,the road between the two ,tavies is not easy in winter under favorable conditions1 and on that night it was to become practically impassable4 ,when the last light of ,peter ,tavy the village had vanished1 ,peter ,tavy the man had about as much idea where he was as if he had just dropped out of the moon4 ,where be'st going8 shrieked ,mary1 as the cart swerved violently to the right4 ,taking a short cut1 explained ,peter4 ,dear life6 gasped ,mary1 he'm pixy-led4 ,i b'ain't1 said ,peter2 ,i be driving straight vor ,mary ,tavy4 ,had he said straight for the edge of ,tavy ,cleave he would have spoken the truth4 ,the pony knew perfectly well that they were off the road1 and the sensible beast would have returned to the right way had it not been for ,peter1 who kept pulling its head towards the cleave4 ,left to itself the pony would have returned to ,peter ,tavy1 having quite enough sense to know that it was impossible to reach the sister village on such a night4 ,its master1 with his fatal knack of blundering1 tugged at the reins with one hand and plied the whip with the other4 ,the snow was like a wall on every side2 the clouds seemed to be dissolving upon them2 suddenly the silence was broken by the roaring of the ,tavy below4 ,us be going to kingdom come1 shrieked ,mary4 ,us b'ain't1 said ,peter2 us be going to ,mary ,tavy4 ,the pony stopped4 ,peter used his whip1 and the next instant the snow appeared to rush towards them1 open1 and swallow them up4 ,they had struck a boulder and gone over the cleave4 ,the body of the cart was in one spot1 its wheels were in another2 and wallowing in the sea and snow were ,peter and ,mary and the pony4 ,the animal was the first to regain its feet1 and made off at once1 with the broken harness trailing behind4 ,mary was the next to rise1 plastered over with snow from head to foot2 but she was soon down again1 because her legs refused to support her4 ,presently she heard her brother's voice4 ,he was invisible1 because he had been thrown several feet lower1 and had landed among rocks somewhat bruised and sprained2 had it not been for the soft snow he would probably have been killed4 ,i be broke to bits1 he wailed4 ,so be ,i1 cried ,mary2 ,so be the cart4 ,be the cart broke8 said ,peter2 and when ,mary had replied it was only fit for firewood 7it had not been fit for much else before the accident71 he went on1 ',twill cost ye a lot o' money to buy me a new one4 ,buy ye a new one8 ,the man be dafty6 screamed ,mary4 ',twas taking yew home what broke it1 ,peter explained4 ,call this taking me home8 ,mary shouted4 ,i done my best1 said ,peter2 'twas your weight what sent it over4 ,there'll be the cart1 and the harness and the doctor's bill2 'twill cost ye a heap o' money4 ,dear life1 hear the man talk6 said ,mary1 appealing to the snow which was piled upon her ample form4 ,mayhap there'll be funeral expenses1 said ,peter lugubriously2 ,i be hurt dreadful4 ,yew won't want the cart then1 his sister muttered2 and ,i'll have the pony4 ,where be the pony8 ,peter demanded4 ,gone home likely2 got more sense than we1 said ,mary4 ,why doan't ye get up1 ,peter8 ,get up wi' my two legs broke6 ,peter replied in disgust4 ,dear life1 man1 get up6 ,mary went on1 with real alarm4 ,if us doan't get up soon us'll be stone dead carpses when us gets home4 ,i'll try1 ,mary1 ,i'll try1 said ,peter4 ,come up here1 ,peter2 there be a sheltered spot over agin them rocks1 said ,mary4 ,there be a sheltered spot down here1 ,peter answered2 'tis easier vor yew to roll down than vor me to climb up4 ,when the question had been argued1 ,mary went down2 that is to say1 she groped and grovelled through the snow1 half-rolling1 half-sliding1 until she reached the shelter to which ,peter had dragged himself4 ,it was a small cleft1 a chimney1 mountaineers would have called it1 in the centre of a rock-mass which made a small tor on the side of the cleave4 ,normally1 this chimney acted as a drain for the rock-basin above1 but it was then frozen up and dry4 ,peter was right at the back1 huddled up as he could never have been had any bones been broken4 ,when ,mary appeared he dragged her in2 she was almost too stout to pass inside1 but as he placed her she made an excellent protection for him against the storm4 ,mary realised this1 and suggested they should change places2 but ,peter pointed out that in his shattered condition any movement might prove fatal4 ,presently ,mary began to cry1 realizing the gravity of their position4 ,the snow was descending more thickly than ever1 drifting up the side of the cleave and choking the entrance to their cleft4 ,fortunately the night was not very cold1 and they were both warmly clad1 while the snow which was threatening to bury them was itself a protection4 ,help could not possibly reach them while the night lasted2 no one would know what had befallen them1 and they were unable to walk4 ,when ,mary began to cry ,peter abused her1 until his thoughts also began to trouble him4 ,think they'll put what's on my notice-board on my tombstone8 he inquired4 ,now doan't ye talk about tombstoanes1 doan't ye now1 implored ,mary tearfully4 ,business is business1 said ,peter4 ,i told 'em to give me a great big tombstone1 and to put upon him1 ,peter ,tavy1 ,clock-maker1 ,photographer1 ,dealer in ,antiquities1 ,dartmoor ,guide1 ,reeve of the ,manor of ,lydford1 ,purveyor of ,manure1 and et cetera4 ,doan't ye worry about it2 they'll put it all down1 said ,mary4 ,us'll be buried together1 same afternoon1 half-past two likely1 ,peter went on4 ,doan't ye talk about funerals and tombstoanes1 ,mary implored4 ,talk about spicy wine1 and goosey fair1 and them wooden horses that go round and round1 and hurdy-gurdy music2 talk about they1 ,peter4 ,it ain't the time1 said ,peter bitterly4 ,a long dreary period of silence followed4 ,peter ,tavy the village and ,mary ,tavy its sister were completely snowed up2 and in the cleave of the river which divided the parishes ,peter ,tavy the man was snowed up with ,mary ,tavy his sister4 ,they were miserably cold and drowsy4 ,the snow was piled up in front of the chimney like a wall2 there was hardly room for ,mary to move1 and ,peter kept on groaning4 ,at length he roused himself to remark3 ,yew owes me a shillun4 ,what would ,i owe ye a shillun vor8 said ,mary sharply1 wide-awake immediately at any suggestion of parting with money4 ,vor the drive1 said ,peter4 ,i was to give ye a shillun vor taking me home1 not vor breaking me bones and leaving me to perish in ,tavy ,cleave1 said ,mary4 ,yew ain't earned the shillun1 and ,i doan't see how yew'm going to4 ,yew owes me a shillun1 repeated her brother doggedly4 ,i done my best to tak' ye home1 and there was naught in your agreement wi' me about accidents4 ,i never contracted to tak' ye home neither4 ,yew never promised to starve me wi' ice and snow on ,tavy ,cleave neither1 replied ,mary4 ,i didn't promise nothing4 ,i meant to tak' ye home1 reasonable wear and tear excepted2 this here is reasonable wear and tear4 ,yew promised to give me a shillun4 ,when yew put me down1 added ,mary4 ,yew wur put down1 said ,peter4 ,not to my door4 ,that warn't my fault1 said ,peter4 ,twas your worriting what done it2 if yew hadn't worrited ,i'd have put ye out to ,mary ,tavy4 ,yew worrited and upset the cart1 and now we'm dying4 ,i b'ain't dying1 said ,mary stoutly4 ,i be1 said ,peter drearily4 ,i be all cold and nohow inside4 ,i be a going to die2 ,i'd like to die wi' that shillun in my pocket4 ,doan't ye go on about it1 ,peter4 ,if yew'm dying yew'll soon be in a place where yew won't want shilluns4 ,while ,i be here ,i want 'en1 said ,peter4 ,yew'll be fearful sorry when yew see me lying a cold carpse wi'out a shillun in my pocket4 ,give over1 can't ye1 cried ,mary4 ,you'll be giving me the creepies4 ,if yew wur to turn carpsy ,i wouldn't bide wi' ye4 ,there was no reply4 ,silence fell again1 and the only sound was the moaning of the wind and the roaring of the ,tavy2 the snow went on falling and drifting4 ,another hour passed1 and then ,mary shook off her drowsiness1 and called timidly1 ,peter4 ,there was no answer2 she could see nothing2 her fear returned and she shuddered4 ,peter1 she called again2 there was still no reply4 ,mary pressed her stout figure forward and reached out fearfully2 she heard a groan4 ,ah1 doan't ye die1 she implored2 wait till us gets out o' this4 ,what's the matter1 ,peter8 ,yew owes me a shillun1 whispered a voice4 ,i doan't owe it1 ,peter1 ,i doan't1 cried ,mary4 ,if yew had drove me across the river ,i'd have paid ye1 ,i would2 but us be still in the parish of ,peter ,tavy---- ,she was interrupted by another and a deeper groan4 ,be yew that bad8 she asked earnestly4 ,i be like an old clock past mending1 ,peter answered4 ,my mainspring be broke2 ,i be about to depart this life1 ,december the twenty-seventh1 eighteen hundred and eighty-one1 aged fifty-eight1 in hopes of being thoroughly cleaned and repaired and set a going in the world to come4 ,can't ,i do anything vor ye1 ,peter8 asked ,mary gently4 ,yew can give me the shillun yew owes me1 replied ,peter4 ',tis hard of ye to want a shillun if yew'm dying4 ,business is business1 ,peter moaned4 ,fumbling in the little black bag she carried beneath her skirt1 ,mary produced a coin and held it out1 saying sadly3 ,here 'tis1 ,peter2 ,i doan't want to give it to ye1 but if 'twill make yew die happy1 ,i must4 ,with singular agility ,peter reached out his hand1 and after groping a little in the darkness secured the precious coin4 ,he felt it1 he bit it1 and he asked with suspicion3 ,how ,i be to know 'tis a shillun8 ,he tastes like a halfpenny4 ,i know 'tis a shillun2 ,i ain't got no coppers1 ,mary answered4 ,peter's groans ceased from that moment2 he pocketed the coin and chuckled4 ,i be a lot better1 he said2 my legs b'ain't quite broke1 ,i reckon1 and ,i ain't so cold inside1 neither4 ,mary's reply was too eccentric to mention4 ,so soon as it was day a party of villagers set out from ,peter ,tavy well supplied with blankets and stimulants2 ,peter and ,mary were not the only ones missing that fateful morning4 ,the pony had returned to its stable the evening before1 and had been seen by the local constable trailing its broken harness past the beer-house4 ,an attempt had been made to find the couple then1 but their tracks were completely hidden4 ,snow was still descending as the relief party waded through the drifts upon the edge of the cleave4 ,the moor had disappeared during the night1 and a strange region of white mountains had risen in its stead4 ,the searchers worked their way on1 with a hopeless feeling that they were only wasting their time1 when they thought they heard a whistle4 ,they stopped and argued the matter like the three jolly huntsmen2 one said it was a man1 another said it was a bird1 and another it was the wind4 ,they were all wrong2 it was a woman4 ,out of the centre of a huge white mass down the cleave appeared a black scarf tied to the end of an umbrella4 ,peter and ,mary were rescued1 not without difficulty1 because the snow was four feet in depth on the side of the cleave1 and were conveyed in due course to their respective villages4 ,being a hardy couple they were little the worse for their adventure1 although ,peter posed as an invalid to the end of his days1 and sought parish relief in consequence2 that was simply a matter of business4 ,so soon as the roads became passable and he was able to walk1 ,peter tramped across to ,mary ,tavy1 to pay his sister a friendly1 and a business1 visit4 ,there be ten shilluns yew owes vor breaking my cart and harness1 he explained4 ,when be yew a going to pay8 ,never1 replied ,mary decidedly4 ,then ,i'll tak' ye into court1 said ,peter4 99 99 99 99 99 ,,the ,,christening ,,of ,,the ,,fifteen ,,princesses ,a ,,modern ,,fairy ,,tale ,once upon a time there was a village called ,lew1 and it was perched on the top of a hill #iii feet1 #aa inches high4 ,that is the way fairy-tales have to begin2 they insist upon going back into the remote past2 but unfortunately the village of ,lew has come down to our own days1 and so has the big hill on which it stands4 ,if we start over again with1 ,once upon a time there was a man of ,lew who had fifteen daughters1 we are confronted by exactly the same difficulty2 for the man is still alive1 and the fifteen daughters look as if they never would1 nor could1 belong to the period when little pixy maids were to be seen any night running round and round the furze-bushes4 ,the only way out of the difficulty is to be courageous1 to tell the truth1 and say3 ,at the top of a hill #iii feet1 #aa inches high--some say it is #a1jjj feet1 but that is not true--stands the village of ,lew1 where dwells a man named ,heathman1 who has fifteen daughters and not a single son2 and the daughters are all princesses1 although it is not easy to say why2 but as they are pretty1 and this is a fairy-tale1 they must be4 ,the little village lies within a kind of ring-fence of ash and sycamores1 which shelter the cob houses from the furious gales which boom and bluster over the ,dartmoor tors4 ,the wind is always sighing and moaning4 ,it is cool upon the hottest day in ,august1 and probably that is why ,lew imports weak-chested people in some quantity4 ,a regular business is done with big1 smoky ,bristol4 ,lew says to ,bristol in its own language1 ,us ha' butiful air up over in ,demshur1 and us ha' a proper plenty o' cream and butter and suchlike1 but us ain't got much golden money4 ,if yew sends us sickly volk1 they can buy our cream and butter1 and us will send 'em back strong4 ,bristol sees the force of this argument1 and packs up and sends off its weak-chested folk1 who reason1 quite sensibly1 ,what's the use of being ill when we can go to the top of ,lew hill and get well8 ,there is a tariff1 of course1 for ,lew does not believe in free imports4 ,the weak-chested folk must buy cream and butter and suchlike in vast quantities1 or they would be promptly deported under the local ,aliens ,act4 ,as a matter of fact1 they buy ,lew produce without any grumbling2 they do even more than they are wanted to1 and are actually spoiling ,lew--where tips are unknown and a man will do an extraordinary lot of work for two shillings--by raising the prices4 ,they get absurdly grateful1 these visitors1 who enter ,lew weak and thin1 and are exported brown and fat and sleek1 like porpoises4 ,it is the importation of so much foreign raw material that has built up the fortunes of the fairy family called ,heathman4 ,his ,majesty1 the father--hereinafter called ,king ,heathman--was village cobbler before he came to the throne4 ,after his accession he procured a horse and cart1 and conveyed people to and from the distant station4 ,he also annexed several acres of grass territory1 by a process of peaceful penetration1 and went in for cows and dairy produce4 ,these two businesses developed so wonderfully that he dropped the cobbling1 at which it must be owned he was always rather a poor hand4 ,the weak-chested imports have to be brought up from the station ill1 and taken back well2 and while they are on the top of ,lew hill they pass the time consuming cream1 butter1 milk1 and eggs1 which are provided by ,king ,heathman1 and delivered morning and evening by the golden-haired princesses4 ,their ,majesties of the ,palace--two cottages of red cob knocked into one--are busy people1 and have no time for boasting2 nor do they appear to think they have done anything out of the way in bringing up fifteen model princesses1 not one of whom has ever given her parents an hour's anxiety4 ,sickness1 some one will suggest2 but that is a ridiculous idea1 for the residents of ,lew are never ill1 and they live just as long as they like4 ,mrs4 ,heathman--hereinafter called ,queen ,heathman--looks the picture of health and strength1 and only last ,revel ,week was footing it merrily after a long day's work1 and dancing one or two anmic young maids from foreign lands like ,plymouth to a standstill4 ,old ,grandfather ,heathman1 ,his ,majesty's father1 who is so much addicted to ,lew that he won't die1 had the impertinence to be dancing too4 ,he must be nearly a hundred1 though he neither knows nor cares about his age1 and will merely state in the course of conversation that he intends to live out the present century1 because he is so fond of the place4 ,old ,grandfather ,heathman is probably the only man now living in ,england who has witnessed a fatal duel1 which was fought some time in the dark ages between the son of the then rector of ,lew and a young doctor1 a lady being of course the cause4 ,the unfortunate young doctor1 who very likely had never handled a sword before1 was quickly killed by his opponent1 who was an army officer4 ,a stone still marks the spot1 but it has become so overgrown with brambles that only ,grandfather ,heathman knows where to look for it4 ,the crown princess is just twenty-three4 ,the girls are nicely dressed1 well educated1 and speak and behave like little angels4 ,if ,romney were alive1 he would want to paint them all4 ,they are so pretty1 these fifteen princesses of ,lew4 ,each has a slender figure1 wild-rose complexion1 shy eyes1 and fair hair4 ,but it must not be imagined they are dancing princesses4 ,one plays the ,american organ 7which was alluded to with less respect as the harmonium twenty years ago7 in the church2 another is pupil-teacher2 another manages the ,sunday-school4 ,they milk the cows and attend to the dairy work4 ,all of them love animals2 each has her dog1 or cat1 or bird1 generally with her in work or in play4 ,when you meet a pretty1 well-dressed girl in ,lew1 you will not--unless you are the latest importation--ask her name4 ,you will say1 ,and what is your number8 ,she will blush delightfully1 lower her shy eyes1 put her hands behind her back1 and tell you4 ,when the first child was born the neighbours offered their congratulations1 and said1 ,of course you will call her ,annie4 ,in this part of the country it is absolutely necessary to have a girl in the family of that name1 and it is most unorthodox to call the first girl anything else4 ,but ,king ,heathman rebelled against custom4 ,he did not care for the name ,annie4 ,he liked something daintier1 something more unusual and fanciful4 ,no doubt there is a vein of poetry somewhere in ,his ,majesty's system4 ,king ,heathman stated plainly he would not hare his daughter named ,annie4 ,he would go to the rector and ask him to supply a name4 ,the good people of ,lew were horrified at such heresy4 ,they pointed out what a great risk he was running4 ,it was quite possible he would not have another daughter1 and thus his family would be branded with the disgrace of having no ,annie4 ,but ,king ,heathman hardened his heart yet more1 and tramped off to the rectory4 ,the rector of ,lew is a scholar of the old type1 an unconscious pedant who can hardly open his lips without quoting ,latin or ,greek1 a type which before another twenty years have gone will be as extinct as the pixies4 ,the rector of ,lew is almost as much a curiosity of the past as ,grandfather ,heathman1 only when people plant themselves on the top of the big hill #iii feet1 #aa inches high1 it never seems to occur to them that they are mortal4 ,the rector solved the royal difficulty at once1 and in the most natural way possible4 ,she is the first child4 ,let us call her either ,prima or ,una1 he said4 ,una is a pretty name4 ,that 'tis1 sir--that 'tis4 ,for reasons of his own ,king ,heathman always prefers to use the dialect of his country4 ,you will find the name in the ,faerie ,queene written by ,spenser1 the rector continued4 ,old ,john ,spencer over to ,treedown8 suggested ,his ,majesty1 who had not dabbled much in classics4 ,no2 ,edmund ,spenser1 who lived in the reign of ,queen ,elizabeth4 ,aw1 yes1 sir1 ,i knows 'en1 said ,king ,heathman4 ,of course he didn't1 but perhaps he was referring to the queen4 ,every one in ,lew knows ,queen ,elizabeth intimately1 because there is a little old house in the village where she was fond of putting up for the night occasionally4 ,this house is still furnished very much as it was in the sixteenth century1 but whether the ,maiden ,lady ever saw or heard of ,lew is another matter4 ,it is certain1 however1 that ,queen ,elizabeth occupied most of her long reign travelling about the country in order that she might sleep in out-of-the-way manor-houses4 ,whenever you visit any old house in this neighbourhood it is only polite to say1 ,queen ,elizabeth slept here1 of course8 ,and then you will be shown the room and the bed1 and if you go on being polite you may very possibly see the sheets and blankets and pillow-slips also1 with the pillow itself still marked with the impression of ,queen ,elizabeth's head4 ,princess ,heathman was duly christened ,una1 to the delight of her father1 and the horror of the inhabitants4 ,every one breathed a sigh of relief when a second princess favoured ,lew with her appearance4 ,after all1 the ,heathmans would not be disgraced4 ,there would be an ,annie in the family1 though they hardly deserved it after letting the first chance slip4 ,king ,heathman remained as silent as the ,sphinx1 and about as mysterious4 ,when the time came for the royal christening1 the church was filled4 ,the rector received a particularly plump bundle from ,queen ,heathman1 and placed it snugly into the hollow of his arm4 ,he dipped his hand into the font1 and the whisper of ,annie went about the church4 ,the next moment they heard1 ,secunda1 ,i baptise thee4444 ,the next year ,princess ,tertia was christened1 and then ,princess ,quarta4 ,even the rector admitted ,quarta was rather an unusual name1 but ,his ,majesty revelled in it1 and would hear of nothing else4 ,every one said ,q was such an awkward initial2 and they had to make the same remark next year when ,princess ,quinta was brought to the font4 ,sounds like squint1 said one of the grumblers2 but not one would venture to suggest such a thing now4 ,by this time the gossips of ,lew had pretty well accommodated themselves to the idea that ,king ,heathman was irreclaimable4 ,annie1 ,bessie1 and ,lucy were the orthodox village names for young ladies2 and it was perfectly clear he would have none of them4 ,in quick succession princesses were hurried to the font1 and the unromantic ears of the congregation were astonished by a list of beautiful names--,sexta1 ,septima1 ,octava1 ,nona of the wonderful eyes1 and ,decima of the sunny hair4 ,but when the eleventh princess was brought to church a serious difficulty arose4 ,a perfect understanding existed between ,his ,majesty and the court chaplain4 ,the father had no idea what the name of his new daughter was to be when she was handed into the scholar's arms4 ,the rector did not use the formula1 ,name this child1 but substituted the question1 ,what is her number8 or words to that effect4 ,on this occasion1 when the question was put1 and ,king ,heathman had answered1 ,eleven1 sir1 the rector paused4 ,then he whispered1 ,would you like ,undecima8 ,aw1 sir1 proper4 ,let's ha' 'en1 was the eager answer4 ,the rector hesitated4 ,across his classical mind flashed the ,latin numbers ahead4 ,the twelfth princess would have to be christened ,duodecima1 and after that such names became impossible4 ,so he whispered1 ,undecima is too much like ,decima4 ,we must think of something else4 ,as yew like1 sir1 said his accommodating ,majesty1 although in distinctly disappointed tones4 ,now there will be an ,annie1 murmured those villagers who were nearest the font and had overheard the discussion4 ,while the rector was deliberating his eyes fell among flowers1 the church happening to be decorated for a festival1 and bunches of the white cluster-rose known as the ,seven ,sisters being twined about the font2 and he suggested that1 if ,king ,heathman was agreeable1 a bevy of flower-named princesses would be a pleasing relief after the dull monotony of numbers4 ,twill do fine1 sir1 said ,king ,heathman4 ,and that is how the ,princess ,rosa came to be christened4 ,but princesses went on filling the palace1 and names were soon running short again4 ,rosa had been followed by ,lilia1 ,viola1 and ,veronica4 ,king ,heathman was becoming fastidious4 ,he had imbibed so much raw material of knowledge from the court chaplain that he was beginning to regard himself as a scholar of some importance4 ,then his royalty was increasing in ,lew2 and he always wore a hard hat1 which1 in this part of the country1 is a sign1 not exactly of majesty1 but of stability and respectability4 ,he still hankered after the numbers1 and was looking forward to the birth of a twentieth princess who could be called ,vicesima4 ,the fifteenth princess had just made her appearance1 and the father continued to disregard the petition of the neighbours praying him to call her ,annie before it was too late4 ,it happened one day that he cast his eyes upon two flowering shrubs which grew in pots1 one at each side of the palace gates4 ,king ,heathman could not remember the name of these shrubs1 though he had been told often enough1 so he called ,tertia1 and asked her to enlighten him4 ,the name is on the tip of my tongue1 but ,i can't get it out1 said ,tertia4 ,i'll call ,una4 ,una is court encyclopdia4 ,she appeared with her beautiful hair ruffled1 for she had been deep in arithmetic when ,tertia called her1 trying to paper an imaginary room1 having most impossible angles1 with imaginary wall-paper at the ridiculous price of one penny three-farthings a yard4 ,what be the name o' that plant8 asked ,his ,majesty4 ,that is a hydrangea1 said ,una1 in a delightfully prim and pedantic fashion2 and then she slipped back to her wall-papering at a penny three-farthings a yard4 ,what b'est going to call the new maiden8 shouted the blacksmith a few moments later over the palace gates4 ,hydrangea1 answered ,king ,heathman grimly4 ,then he went into the state apartments to break the news to his wife1 leaving the blacksmith to have a fit upon the road1 or to go on to his smithy and have it there4 ,for the first time ,queen ,heathman rebelled4 ,she said it was ridiculous to give the child a name like that3 she was surprised that the rector should have thought of it1 and she-- ,but at that point her husband interrupted with the famous remark of the ,white ,knight to ,alice ',tis my own invention4 ,this gave ,queen ,heathman free licence to exercise her tongue4 ,she talked botany for some time1 and concluded with such words as3 ,you'll call the poor maids vegetables next4 ,if us ha' another maiden you'll call her ,broad ,bean1 ,i reckon1 and the next ,scarlet ,runner4 ,one ,scarlet ,runner be plenty1 my dear1 said her husband1 with regal pleasantry4 ,what do ye mean8 ,bain't your tongue one1 my dear8 ,this was a libel1 for ,queen ,heathman is remarkably silent--for a woman4 ,she had to laugh at her husband's little ,joke4 ,they have always been a devoted couple1 and this little tiff was in perfect good-humour4 ,finally1 ,king ,heathman went off to the rectory1 where he discovered the court chaplain and the ,home ,secretary chatting upon the lawn4 ,without any preamble he disclosed his difficulty1 and proposed that the fifteenth princess should be named ,hydrangea4 ,there was no seconder4 ,the motion was declared lost1 and the subject was thrown open for discussion4 ,the ,home ,secretary suggested that the princess just born and her eleven successors should be given the names of the months2 and when he rolled forth such stately titles as ,januaria1 ,februaria1 ,martia1 ,his ,majesty trembled4 ,however1 it occurred to him there might not be sufficient princesses to exhaust the months1 and he stated with much dignity of language that he should not like to have an incomplete set4 ,then the ,christian virtues were suggested1 ,faith1 ,patience1 ,charity1 ,mercy1 ,hope2 but ,king ,heathman would have none of them1 not because he despised the virtues1 but because he considered that his daughters had them all4 ,then the rector interposed in his quiet manner3 ,the child shall be called ,serena4 ,what do 'en mean1 sir8 asked ,king ,heathman eagerly4 ,it means free from care4 ,that's it1 sir--that's it1 said ,his ,majesty1 expressing satisfaction in his usual way4 ,it is an appropriate name1 the rector went on4 ,it implies a perfectly happy condition4 ,there may be dangers1 but the girl shall not know of them4 ,there may be difficulties1 but they shall not trouble her--at least1 we will hope so1 he added with a smile4 ,thank ye1 sir1 said ,king ,heathman4 ,and what will be the next name8 he asked hopefully4 ,the next8 said the rector1 still in his classical musings4 ,why1 the next child shall be called ,placida4 ,but for some reason or other the ,princess ,placida has never come to claim her name4 ,serena appears to be the last4 ,she is still a toddler4 ,almost any day of the week you may see her1 fat and jolly1 and extremely free from care1 staggering between ,septima and ,octava as they go a-milking4 ,she is generally embracing a yellow and very ugly cat1 in lieu of a doll4 ,if you ask her name1 she is just able to lisp1 ,i'se ,swena4 ,the gossips of ,lew have revenged themselves upon ,king ,heathman4 ,they refuse to call the baby ,serena4 ,they call her ,annie4 ,and they are all living happily ever afterwards4