Page:Folk-lore - A Quarterly Review. Volume 2, 1891.djvu/171

Rh "An' a wor so mazed wi' fear, loike," says he, "a didn't reetly look wheer the h'ght corned fro'; but a mind fine 'twor saft an' white like tha moon's sel'. An 't comed fro' suthin' da'ark stannin' nigh a black snag i' tha watter. An' a didn't reetly look," says he age'an, "but a seem to mind a shinin' fa'ace an' yaller hair i' the mid' o' the dazzle, an' 't'ad a sort o' kin' look, loike th' aud moon 'asel aboon tha Cars o' nights. So aff tha a' want to tha wise woman, an' tellt un aboot it, an' a looked lang i' the pot an' tha Book age'an, an' than a nodded 's he'ad.

"Its da'ark still, childer, da'ark !" says she, "an' a canna reetly see owt, but do 's a tell ye, an' ye'll fin' out for yersel's. Go'a all on ye, just afwore the night gathers, pit a sto'on i' yer gobs, an' tak' a hazel twig i' yer han's, an' say ne'er a word till yer safe ho'am age'an. Than wa'alk on an' fear nowt, fair into tha mid' o' tha ma'ash, till ye fin' a coffin, a can'lle, an' a cross. Than ye 'll no be far frae yer moon ; look, and mappen ye 'll fin'. Tha lookit each at ither, an' scratched the'r heads. "But wheer 'll us fin' her, mother?" says ane. " An' hoo 'll us goa ?" says t'other. " An wull na' tha bogles fett us?" says another, an' so on. "Houts ! " said she, fratched loike. "Passel o' fools ! A can tell ye nae more; do as a tellt ee 'n fear nowt ; 'n' ef ye don't loike, than sta'ay by tha hoose, an' do wi' outen yer moon ef ye wull."

So cum tha nex' night i' tha darklin's, oot tha want a' thegether, ivery man wi' a sto'on in's moath, an' a hazel-twig in's han', an' feelin', thou mayst reckon, main feared an' creepy. An' tha stummelt an'stottered along tha pads into the mid o' tha bogs ; tha seed nowt, mirover, thoff tha heerd sighin's an' flust'rin's i' ther ears, an' felt cowld wet fingers techin' 'em ; but on tha want, lookin' aroon' for tha coffin, tha can'le, an' tha cross, while tha comed nigh to the pool a side o' tha great snag, wheer the moon lay buried. An' a' towanst tha stopt, quakin' an' mazed an' skeery, fur theer wor tha gra'at sto'an, half in, half oot, o' tha watter