Mehalah. Baring-Gould Sabine

the old woman. "But it must not go out of the family. Keep it yourself, Mehalah."

      The girl took the coin. It was a large silver token, the size of a crown, bearing on the face a figure of Mars in armour, with shield and brandished sword, between the zodiacal signs of the Ram and the Scorpion. The reverse was gilt, and represented a square divided into five and twenty smaller squares, each containing a number, so that the sum in each row, taken either vertically or horizontally, was sixty-five. The medal was undoubtedly foreign. Theophrastus Paracelsus, in his 'Archidoxa,' published in the year 1572, describes some such talisman, gives instructions for its casting, and says: "This seal or token gives him who carries it about him strength and security and victory in all battles, protection in all perils. It enables him to overcome his enemies and counteract their plots."

      The medal held by the girl belonged to the sixteenth century. Neither she nor her mother had ever heard of Paracelsus. The figures on the face passed their comprehension. The mystery of the square on the reverse had never been discovered by them. They knew only that the token was a charm, and that family tradition held it to secure the wearer against sudden death by violence.

      A hole was drilled through the piece, and a strong silver ring inserted. A broad silk riband of faded blue passed through the ring, so that the medal might be worn about the neck. For a few moments Mehalah studied the mysterious figures by the fire-light, then flung the riband round her neck, and hid the coin in her bosom.

      "I must light a candle," she said. She stopped by the table on her way across the room, and took up the glass upon it.

      "Mother," she said sharply; "who has been drinking here?"

      The old woman pretended not to hear the question, and began to poke the fire.

      "Mother, has Elijah Rebow been drinking spirits out of this glass?"

      "To be sure, Mehalah, he did just take a drop."

      "Where did he get it?"

      "Don't you think such a man as he should carry a bottle about with him? Most men go provided against the chill who can afford to do so."

      "Mother," said the girl impatiently, "you are deceiving me. I know he got the spirits here. I insist on being told how you came by them."

      The old woman made feeble and futile attempts to evade answering directly; but was at last forced to confess that on two occasions, of which this evening was one, Elijah Rebow had brought her a small keg ofrum.

      "You do not grudge it me, Mehalah, do you? It does me good when I am low after my fits."

      "I do not grudge it you," answered the girl; "but I do not choose you should receive favours from that man. He has been threatening us, and yet secretly he is making you presents. Why does he come here?" She looked full in her mother's face. "Why does he give you these spirits? He a man who never did a good action but asked a return in fourfold measure. I promise you, mother, if he brings here any more, that I will stave in the cask."

      The widow made piteous protest, but her daughter remained firm.

      "Now," said the girl, "this point is settled between us. Be sure I will not go back from my word. Now let me count the money." She lit a candle at the hearth, seated herself at the table, untied the pouch, and poured the contents upon the board.

      She sprang to her feet with a cry. Her eyes, wide open with dismay, were fixed on the little heap she had emptied on the table � a heap of shot, great and small, some pennypieces, and a few bullets.

      The girl was speechless. The old woman moved to the table and looked.

      "What is this, Mehalah?"

      "Look here! Lead, not gold."

      "There has been a mistake," said the widow, nervously, "Abraham has given you the wrong sack."

      "This is the right bag. He had no other. We have been robbed."

      The old woman was about to put her hand on the heap, but Mehalah arrested it.

      "Do not touch anything here," she said, "let all remain as it is till I bring Abraham."

      Abraham Dowsing, the shepherd, was a simple surly old man, honest but not intelligent, selfish but trustworthy. He was a fair specimen of the East Saxon peasant, a man of small reasoning power, moving like a machine, very slow, muddy in mind, only slightly advanced in the scale of beings above the dumb beasts; with instinct just awaking into intelligence, but not sufficiently awake to know its powers.

      On the fidelity of Abraham Dowsing, Mehalah felt assured she might rely. He was guiltless. She relied on him to sell the sheep to the best advantage, for he was grasping and keen to drive a bargain. But when he had the money she knew that less confidence could be reposedon him. He could think of but one thing at a time, and if he fell into company, his mind would be occupied by his jug of beer, his bread and cheese, or his companion. He would not have attention for anything beside.

      "Mother," said Mehalah suddenly, "has the canvas bag been touched since Abraham brought it here?"

      "No."

      "You have been in your seat all the while?"

      "Of course I have. There was no one here but Rebow. You do not suspect him, do you?"

      "No, I have no reason to do so."

      Mehalah dropped her brow again on her hands. It was in vain to question Abraham. His thick and addled brain would baffle enquiry.

      She stood up.

      "Mother, I must go after George at once. He was with Abraham on the road home, and he will tell us the truth. It is of no use questioning the old man, he will grow suspicious, and think we are accusing him. The tide is at flood. I shall be able to catch George on the Mersea hard."

      "Take the lanthorn with you."

      "I will. The evening is dark, and there will be ebb as I come back. I must land in the saltings."

      Mehalah took a lanthorn from the ceiling and kindled a candle end in it. She opened the drawer of the table and took out a pistol. She looked at the priming, and then thrust it through a leather belt she wore under her guernsey.

      On that coast, haunted by smugglers and other lawless characters, a girl might well go armed. By the roadside to Colchester where cross ways met, was growing an oak that had been planted as an acorn in the mouth of a pirate of Rowhedge, not many years before, who had there been hung in chains for men murdered and maids carried off. Nearly every man carried a gun in hopes of bringing home wild fowl, and when Mehalah was in her boat, she usually took her gun with her for the same purpose. Men bore firearms not only for the sake of bringing home game; self-protection demanded it.

      The mouth of the Blackwater was a great centre of the smuggling trade; the number and intricacy of the channels made it a safe harbour for those who lived on contraband traffic. It was easy for those who knew the creeks to elude the revenue boats, and every farm and tavern was ready to give cellarage to run goods and harbour to smugglers.

      Between Mersea and the Blackwater were several flat hol ms or islands, some under water at high-tides, others only just standing above it, and between these, the winding waterways formed a labyrinth which made pursuit difficult. The traffic was carried on with an audacity and openness unparalleled elsewhere. Al though there was a coastguard station at the month of the estuary, on Mersea 'Hard,' yet goods were run even in open day, under the very eyes of the revenue men. Each public-house on the island, and on the mainland near a creek, obtained its entire supply of wine and spirits from contraband vessels. Whether the coastguard were bought to shut their eyes or were baffled by the adroitness of the smugglers, cannot be said, but the taverns found no difficulty in obtaining their supplies as often and as abundantly as they desired.

      The villages of Virley and Salcot were the chief landing-places, and there horses and donkeys were kept in large numbers for the conveyance of the spirits, wine, tobacco and silk to Tiptree Heath, the scene of Boadicaea's great battle with the legions of Suetonius, which was the emporium of the trade. There a constant fair or auction of contraband articles went on, and thence they were distributed to