“Par sur haies et bûchons (buissons) Faut que je trouve les autres où qu’ils sont.” Le gars, dès que sa mère fut partir, se frotta aussi avec l’onguent et dit:—“Par en travers haies et bûchons. Faut que je trouve les autres où qu’ils sont.” Mais, comme il s’était trompé en répétant ce qu’il avait ouï dire, il passa à travers les ronces et les haies, et arriva tout sanglant au rendezvous des sorciers. Il les trouva qui dansaient, et qui chantaient, et sa mère était avec eux.”
The Aerial Journey.
There is a story told of two men who were neighbours and inhabitants of the parish of St. Saviour’s, that their occupation—that of quarrymen—took them frequently to the Vale parish, where the finest qualities of granite are to be procured. The distance they had to traverse before arriving at their destination was considerable, and the road in some places, rather lonely.
Leonard Sarre, who was of a companionable nature, thought that the tediousness of the way would be considerably lessened by having someone to talk to, even if it were only his fellow workman, Matthew Tostevin, whose taciturnity and reserve were proverbial. Often, when setting off in the early morning to go to his work, he would, as he passed Tostevin’s door, look in and offer his company. The answer was invariably the same:—
“Go on, I shall be there as soon as you, though I shall not leave home for an hour to come.”
When Sarre arrived at the quarry where they worked he was frequently astounded at finding Tostevin already there. The way which Sarre took was the very shortest and most direct. He was confident that Tostevin could not pass without his perceiving him, and any other road would entail at least half-an-hour’s extra walking to accomplish. There was evidently a mystery, and Leonard was resolved to fathom it.
At last, in answer to his repeated enquiries, Matthew told him that he was willing to let him into the secret. He bade him place his foot on one of his, clasp him tightly round the waist, shut his eyes closely, and, above all, on no account whatever, to utter a word.
Leonard Sarre did as he was directed, and immediately felt himself lifted into the air and carried along at a fearful rate. In his fright he forgot the injunctions that had been given him, opened his eyes, and, finding himself far above the earth, cried out in terror “O, mon Dieu!” The holy name dissolved the unhallowed spell, at least so far as poor Leonard was concerned. He fell; fortunately it was into one of the most boggy spots of La Grand’ Mare, so he escaped with a few scratches and bruises, a thorough ducking, and a tremendous fright. What became of Matthew Tostevin is not known.
It was not until many years had rolled over his head that Leonard Sarre ventured to relate his perilous adventure, and then Tostevin had long been dead.[169]