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Updated: May 12, 2025
So they went back to their wives; and their wives, recollecting that the cottage formed part of the glebe, went off to inquire of Parson Morth, "than whom," as the tablet to his memory relates, "none was better to castigate the manners of the age." He was a burly, hard-riding ruffian, and the tale of his great fight with Gipsy Ben in Launceston streets is yet told on the countryside.
Besides, there was a plenty of vegetables in the garden. But this was not enough to avert the whisper of witchcraft. And one day, when Parson Morth had ridden off to the wrestling matches at Exeter, the blow fell. Farmer Anthony of Carne great-grandfather of the present farmer had been losing sheep.
Upon this the Parson's language became grossly indelicate, after the fashion of those days. So nothing more was known of the strangers. But it was noticed that Parson Morth, when he passed the cottage on his way to meet or market, would pull up his mare, and, if the outlandish lady were working in the garden, would doff his hat respectfully.
Parson Morth wanted to know if he couldn't let his cottage to an invalid lady and her sister without consulting every wash-mouth in the parish. "Aw, so there's two!" said one of them, nodding her head. "But tell us, Parson dear, ef 'tes fitty for two unmated women to come trapesing down in a po'shay at dead o' night, when all modest flesh be in their bed-gowns?"
Vossii 38. p. 142. Ep. 289. p. 105. Præst. Vir. Epist. 507. p. 766. Præs. Vir. Ep. 508. p. 567. XIII. It was on the seventeenth of March 1632 that he set out from Amsterdam on his way to Hamburg; but did not take up his residence in that City till the end of the year: the fine season he passed at an agreeable country-seat, called Okinhuse, near the Elbe, belonging to William Morth, a Dutchman.
"Bon jour, Mdmzelle Henriette" this was all the French the Parson knew. And the lady would smile back and answer in English. "Good-morning, Parson Morth." "And Mamzelle Lucille?" "Ah, just the same, my God! All the day stare stare. If you had known her before! so be-eautiful, so gifted, si bien elevee! It is an affliction: but I think she loves the flowers."
Then a dead stillness fell on the place, and the cottage was empty. On the following Saturday Parson Morth walked down to the inn, just ten minutes after stalling his mare. He strode into the tap-room in his muddy boots, took two men by the neck, knocked their skulls together, and then demanded to hear the truth.
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