Lapt aboot a breet green ask,
An’ it’s all foor him an’ thee.
It boils, thoo’ll drink,
He’ll speeak, tho’ll think,
It boils, thoo’ll see,
He’ll speeak, thoo’ll dee.
Something seemed to say to Mary, ‘Sha’s working a curse on thee an’ Tom’ (Tom was her sweetheart). ‘Thoo mun deea summat, or sha’ll mak mischief atween ya.’ So Mary opened the door and walked boldly in. She then told the witch—for by this time she had no doubt her visitor was such—that she had heard all she had said, and seen all she had done. She then took hold of the Bible, and said, ‘Ya mun deea yer warst; Ah ho’d byv this,’ meaning the Bible. No sooner had she said that she had heard and seen all, and declared that she held by the Bible, and dared her to do her worst, than the witch turned the pan wrong side up on the fire, and shrieking out, ‘Thoo’s ’scaped ma this tahm, bud Ah’ll mell on tha yet,’ disappeared. Early next morning a man rode over from Kildale, with the news that Martha Sokeld was nowhere to be found, and it was not until three days afterwards that her dead body was discovered on the moor head. The conclusion come to at that time (and which my informant thought most probable) was that the witch had lured Martha on to the moor and then spelled the soul out of her, taking possession of the body herself, and so deceived her grandmother. However, her grandmother lived until she was eighty-five, having brought up a large family; and so, as the old lady put it, ‘Efter that t’ au’d witch ’ed nivver been yabble ti deea owt tiv her; sha aiblins off’ns aim’d ti deea, bud it seeams ’at it nivver cam tiv a heead.’
The following further information regarding Molly Cass, the Leeming witch, of whom mention has been made, was given to me by Abe Braithwaite, a noted character of Bedale twenty-five years ago. Molly, although a native of Exelby, lived for many years in a cottage close to Leeming Mill: some declare in a disused part of the mill itself. Be that as it may, one night whilst the miller, two others, and Abe’s grandfather were playing cards in the mill, George Winterfield (one of the players) had the nine of hearts dealt to him eight times in succession. As the ninth deal was proceeding, one of the players laid a guinea on the table, offering to wager Winterfield that amount to a shilling, that the nine of hearts did not fall to his hand that deal. ‘Put thi brass i’ thi pocket,’ said Au’d Molly, popping her head just inside the door; ‘thi brass is nut foor him, an’ his brass is nut foor thee. Put thi brass i’ thi pocket, an’ leeak sharp aboot it.’ So terrified was the owner of the guinea of gaining the ill-will of Molly, that he pocketed his guinea at once. When the last card of the deal fell, and whilst the cards still lay on the table, Molly said, ‘Thoo’s gitten ’t again, George; tak thi han’ up and see,’ and such turned out to be the case. ‘Aye, thoo’s gitten it hard eneeaf, an’ thoo’s had it eight times alriddy; t’ au’d un’s[34] i’ tha noo, an’ he’ll nut leeav tha whahl he’s gitten tha altogither. Thoo hed thi chance, an’ thoo wadn’t tak’t, seea Ah’ve potched it inti t’ Swale’ (the name of the river hard by), ‘an’ thoo’ll ’a’e ti gan theer ti late it. T’ Swale’s waiting ti be thi brahdal bed. Thoo’d better gan noo; think on t’ langer thoo waits, an’ t’ langer thoo’ll stay[35].’ On hearing this, George, turning as white as chalk, arose, saying, ‘Ah’ll wed her; Ah’ll mak an honest woman on her, if thoo’ll nobbut gi’e ma anuther chance; Ah’ve rewd all ’at Ah’ve deean.’ To which Molly replied, ‘Ah’s nut off’ns i’ t’ mahnd o’ gi’ing onnybody yah chance, let aleean tweea; thoo sez ’at thoo’ll tak her ti thi bed, Ah’ve sed ’at thoo s’all gan tiv hers. Noo, then, gan thi waays; thi brahd’s waiting foor tha, sha’s ligging asleep on a bed o’ bulls an’ segs. Oh, what a brahdal bed! Oh, what a brahdal bed!’ she screamed, banging to the door.
Winterfield left the company, saying he would go at once to his old sweetheart and promise to marry her. The night was intensely dark, and whether he missed his way and slipped into the beck, which was much swollen at the time, and his body drifted into the Swale, or whether it was as Molly shouted to him as he left, ‘Good-neet, George, all roads leead ti t’ Swale ti-neet,’ it is impossible to say. One thing, however, is certain—though he joined his old sweetheart, he never saw her again. It was as a corpse the current carried him along, and left his body late that night by the side of her, who, only a few hours before, in a fit of desperation and despair, had confided to the silent waters the whole of her sin and shame. Both bodies were found quite close together, tightly held by the ‘bulls and segs,’ in the backwater where the beck joins the Swale. I well remember, when fishing near the spot late in the evening for eels, an old lady remarking on what she considered my temerity, for she fully believed that any one who ventured near at midnight would see the dead body of a girl, and presently that of a man, float by, both being quite visible until they joined each other in the high seaves and bulrushes.