Vermont phÅ“nix. [volume] (Brattleboro, Vt.) 1834-1955, 1884-05-30
THE WTTCHS RING.

very curious, struggling, sleepy old vii.
lage is Arlington. 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 its hands, mus
ing on bygone days, when old King George
held the land under his sway, and when, as
its old folks sagely remark, things were not as
they are now. There are a great many old
people in Arlington 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 are unknown, or
at most only huns family over the hills like
the buzzing of fly on a sunny pane on a
summer day. And 10 they sit still in their
chimney corners from year to year, and muse
and dose and dream, until they dream their
lives away, and take their final sleep. 1t was
to an old crone Of this description that was
indebted for my adventure.
In the course of my ramblings about the
village, l Glanced one day to peer over
crumblng wall, and discovered an old, dis
used burial ground The brown slabs were
broken, PROSTATE and scattered, with only
here and there a forlorD, unsteady stone,
standing wearly, and waiting for the time to
come when it, too, might fall down and rest
with the sleepers beneath. Scramblng over
the low wall | stopped about among the grass,
pushing away the tangled masses Of vines and
leaves from the faces of the slabs, that
might read the inscriptions there. But suns
and storms of over one hundred years had OBJ
liberated nearly all the letters, so that only
portions of names and dates remained. Fl
nally, down in deep corner of the enclosure,
whore the weeds grew densest, and the shades
were darkest, found sn old stone, which,
leaning forward, had protected its face from
bn uto t,A an tho I 81 ,l,.
BARBARA CoNwAIL.
BORN 1870, DIED 1880. AGE, 60 YEARS
HaUiHg been idettiiy executed for The practice "
iritchcrdJt.
My curiosity was at once aroused l in
quircd 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, rs it
had been handed down to her by her ances-
tors.
Living in an old stone house at the edge of
the village, che was very rarely seen-for no
one ever crossed her threshold-save when
she was occasionally met by frightened par
ty of children idling away a summer after
Moons holiday in the woods, when she would
scowl and pass away STOPPING along over the
fields, gathering herbs with which to brew
her nightly potions No one ever interfered
with her, however, until sad year came to
Arlington.
An epidemic broke out and ragged with
fury that nothing could withstand People
began TO mutter that Barbara the witch was
the cause of it. Passing the road she was
stoned by party of boys, to whom she turn
ed, and, shaking her bony hand, ,shrieked that
the curse was upon them.
Two of the lads sickened and died in few
days, and though scores we're carried away in
like manner, An especial import was attached
to their death. Barbara began TO be watch
ed. They looked through her windows at
midnight and found her bending over a seeth-
ing cauldron, throwing in herbs, muttering
cabAlstic words, aud stirring the mixture
with what they reported to be human bone.
Old Barbara was working her charms
So when, one morning, man came into
town bruised end covered with mud, and tes-
titled that As he rode past old Barbara's house,
at twelve o'clock the night before, he saw the
arch fend and the witch in conversation up
on the honse-top, surrounded by flames, and
laughing fendshly in the lurid glare, as they
shook their fists at the plague-stricken village
sleeping below, his tale found ready credenoe.
The fact that he Was an habitual drunkard,
and had on more than one occasion rolled
from his horse in a drunken stupor, and pass.
ed the night in ditch, dreaming wild Dreams
did not in the least detract from the belief of
the villagers in his account Of the scene. And
when he related how this pair of demons had
pounoed upon him, and had first tortured and
then thrown him senseless into ditch, their
indignation became uncomfortable.
Old Barbara was tried, condemned and
hanged though she protested in her innocence
to the last.
The little sum of money found in her pos
session was used to buy that gravestone-Rs
No nna would dara anprnpyia IA it--and IN thia
day, if anyone 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, l believe you were innocent" at
the same time stretching out his hand over
the grave, she would appear 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 claim her own.
The old woman ended her story in low,
impressive monotone which, with her earn
estness and sincere belief in what she said,
almost carried conviction to me, in spite of
reason. As | sauntered away, ridiculing these
ignorant aud superstitious village folk,
found myself almost uneonsciously wander
ing back through the old burial ground to the
witch's grave. Carelessly glanciug at the in
scrptiou, was surprised to find that very
day was tho one hundred and fftieth anniver-
sary OF her death, aud still move surprised
when the thought occurred to me of watching
at her grave that night. I ridiculed and
scoffed at the idea Where was my boasted
common sense and incredulity9 But, still,
returning ever, came that wsyward thing call
ed fsnoy-and it conquered
The world was wild and weird that night,
when / stole forth from the village. The
wind was moaning through the trees, and sob
bing piteously the black clouds were driven
in broken patches across the sky, now letting
down the moonshine, and again shroudng all
in blaokest night making the shadows chase
| each other about and steal around corners
upon one in q manner that made me vince in
spite of myself. Climbing the low stone wall
rather nervously, 1 confess-I stole away
through the old down -trodden graves, push
ing through tho weeds aud briers as silently
as possible, and making my way towards that
dark, dreary corner, where the old witch re-
posed.
A graveyard at noon is a very different spot
from o graveyard at midnight, especially il
one is there to seek an interview with spirit.
l reached the place and stood by the tomb
1t still lacked a few minutes Of twelve, and
as stood there watching the moonlight fit
ting over the graves, longed for little ray
to creep in with me. But no--approaohinl
and receding, and wavering all about me, II
never touched this grave, but fed away al
often as it approached, as though frightened
at the black shadow forever lurking there
BY and by the village clock tolled twelve.
As the slow, tremulous tones stole out on the
night, the wind ceased moaning, the clouds
covered the faoo of the moon, the insects
stopped chirping, and when the last stroke
was finished the almost unbearable silence
was broken only by my own breathing,
which 1 strove in vain TO suppress. The
darkness was intense, and could see moth
ing. terrible feeling of guilt and terro
seized me, that l. a mortal, should be intrud
ing there at such an hour. Mechanically
strove to speak the words | had been told
but my lips refused TO form sound.
Still stood ia that awful black silence
chilled with fear, until with mighty effort
reached out my arm over the grave ant
grasped-a hand.
1t was only for an instant-not that, for /
was jerked away in twinkling-but lonI