The Douglas independent. [volume] (Roseburg, Or.) 187?-1885, 1884-05-03
THE WITCH's RING.

TT. H. n. In Oan rTaHclScO ATg0nauC.I
A very curious struggling, sleepy old WI
lage is Adlingtune. Half century behind
the rest of the world, it still sits between the
green hills OF an eastern state, with its elbows
on its knees and its chin in it's hands, musing
on bygone days, when old King George
held the land under his sway, and when, as
its old folk sagely remark, things were not
as they are now. There are great many
old people in Adlingtune-in fact very few
die young there. The atmosphere is so dreamy
and peaceful that excitement cannot exist,
and the wear and tear of the busy world is
unknown, or at most only HUNS family over
the hills, like the buzzing OF a fly on sunny
pane on a summer day. And SO they still sit
In their chimney corners from year to year
and muse, and doze, and dream until they
dream their lives away and take their final
sleep. 1t was to an old crone OF this descrip-
ton that | was indebted for my adventure.
In the course OF my idle ramblings about
the village chanced one day to peer over
crumbling wall and discovered an old, dis
used battle-ground. The brown slabs were
broken, PROSTATE and scattered, with only
here and there a forlorn, unsteady stone
standing wearily, and waiting for the time
to come when it, too, might fall down and
rest with the sleepers beneath. Scrambling
over the low wall, I stopped about among
the grass, pushing away the tangled masses
of vines and leaves from the faces Of slabs
that might read the inscriptions there. But
the suns and storms of over one hundred
years had obliterated nearly all the letters, so
that only portions of names and dates re-
manned. Finally, down in deep corner Of
the inclosure, where the weeds grew densest
opl thn do He riro T found old
stone which, leaning forward. had protected
its face from the storms and on this stone !
read the words:
BARBARA CONWAIL
BORN 1870, DIED :730. AGE, 6oYEARs. HAv-
ING BEEN LAWFULLY EXECUTED FOR THE
PRACTICE OF wITCHCRAFT.
My curiosity was at once aroused. / In
quired of several persons as to the history of
this woman, but without success for a time.
Finally, however, found an old woman, who
told me the history of Barbara Cornwall, as
it had been handed down by her ancestors:
Living in an old stone house at the edge of
the village, she was rarely seen-for no one
ever crossed her threshold-save when she
was occasionally met by a frightened party
of children idling away a summer afternoons
holiday in the woods, when she would scowl
and pass away, STOPPING along over the fields,
gathering herbs with which to brew her
mighty potions. No one ever interfered with
her, however, until a sad year came TO Ad-
lingtune.
An epidemic broke out and ragged with q
fury that nothing could Withstand. People
began to mutter that Barbara the witch was
the cause Of it. Passing along the road she
was stoned by party of boys, to whom she
turned, and, shaking her bony hand, shrieked
that the curse was upon them.
Two of the lads sickened and died in few
days, and thoug h scores were carried away
i'll a like manner, an especial import. was at
tached to their death. Barbara began to be
watched. They looked through her windows
a t midnight and found her bending over
seething cauldron, throwing in herbs, NUT
tering cabalistic words, and stirring the
mixture with what they reported to be
human bone. Old Barbara was working her
charms.
So when one morning a man came into
town, bruised and covered with mud, and
testified that as he rode past old Barbara's
house at u o'clock the night before, he saw
the arch fend and the witch in conversation
upon the house top, surrounded by flames
and laughing fendishly in the lurid glare as
they shook their fists at the plague-stricken
village sleeping below, his tale found ready
credence. The fact that he was an habitual
drunkard, and had on more than one occa-
sion rolled from his house In drunken
stupor and passed the night in ditch, dream
ing wild dreams, did not in the least detract
from the belief Of the villagers in his ac-
count of this scene; and when he related how
this pair Of demons had pounced upon him,
and had first tortured and then thrown him
senseless into ditch, their indignation be-
came uncomfortable.
Old Barbara was tried, condemned and
hanged, though she protested in her in
nocence to the last. The little sum Of money
found in her possession was used to buy that
gravestone-as no one would dare appro-
pirate it-and to this day if any one were
bold enough to go to her grave at midnight
on the same day of the year on which she
was hanged and say, Barbara, believe you
were innocent" at the same time stretching
out his hand over the grave, she would ap-
pear to him and place in his hand talisman.
This talisman would bring good fortune as
long as he retained it, but at some time in his
| life the witch would return to him and claim
| her own.
| The old woman ended her story in low
| impressive monotone, which, with her
| earnestness and sincere belief in what she said
almost carried conviction to me in spite OF
reason. As / sauntered away, ridiculing
these ignorant and superstitious village folk
found myself almost unconsciously wan
dering back through the old burial ground t.
the witch's grave. Carelessly glancing a
the inscription, I was surprised to find tina
very day was the 150th anniversary of hel
death, and still more surprised when tn,
thought occurred to me of watching at he
| grave that night. ridiculed and scoffee
| the idea. Where was my boasted common
sense and incredulity7 But, still returning
ever, came that wayward thing called fancy
and it conquered.
The world was wild and weird that night
when / stole forth from the village. TIL
wind was moaning through the trees and sob
bing piteously; the black clouds were driver
| in broken patches across the sky, now letting
down the moonshine, and again shrouding al
In blackest night, and making the shade "
chase each other about and steal around cor
ners upon one in a manner that made m
vince in spite Of myself. Climbing the Low
stone waIl-rather nervously, I confess =
stole away through the old, down-troddel
graves, pushing through the weeds and briar
as silently as possible, and making my wa
towards that dark, dreafy corner where til
old witch reposed. A graveyard at noon is
very different spot from graveyard at mid
night, especially II one is there to seek an in
terview with spirit.
Preached the place and stood by the tomb
| It still lacked few minutes of 10, and as
stood there watching the moonlight fittins
over the graves longed for little ray t.
creep in with me. But no-approaching an
receding and wavering all about me, it neve
touched this grave. but fed away as often a
it approached, as though frightened at th
black shadow forever lurking there.
BY and by the village clock tolled 12. A
the slow, tremulous tones stole out on th
night the wind ceased moaning, the cloud
covered the face of the moon the insect