The Donkey, the Pedlar, and the Impossible . Rat .
.
iuY house—which the local rural council persists in 131 regarding. as a rateable residence, though I have stated firmly that as the caretaker of ail ancient English landmark, that is, a windmill, .I should be awarded an annuity rather than taxed—my house, or whatever may be its official designatioki, is haunted ; not by a mere white-draped; conventional ghost ; not by .any. noisy apparition. It is haunted by legends and, Originating ilk some peculiar way; froM these, by what I can only describe as Presences. I have been having a talk with Tom—nephew of the last -miller of the line—about this, and he says he is not surprised. " That windmill," Tom said, ought to be haunted ; because if it isn't, why Wet it ? "- It. at the the logic of this somehow eluded me, I have since-come to tetilize. that Tom knows what he is talking about. . Apart from the midnight theitning, which is-probably only the lamentation of some hi* soul looking for treasure hidden in ". one of the innumerable crevices about the place, there are two major Presences, less easily ignored, one at least of -which is of indiSPutably historic specification. There_ is a. donkey in. the case, and it brays. • The dismal, complaining voice I sometimes hear pro- ceeding apparently from the little loft Mider the mill's roof and which I had hitherto taken to be the howling of a trapped werewolf, -is :thus. explained. Here is my locally-gathered information as to the origin of this strange Presence: One still evening, long ago, while the miller was down at the: Peacock Inn, or somewhere, taking advantage of the absence of wind to slake his eternal thirst—he was a traditionally merry miller this one- s wandering pedlar, no icing the.windmill, drove his thnikey and cart up to it and began to cry his waresi Someone evidently heard him ; but not the miller; All right," the pedlar thought, " I am in no hurry,. I shall wait. Millers usually need something." So; having tied up his donkey and seated himself comfortably in the cart, the Pedlar Waited. In it. lfttle -NA)* he fell aileep( The wind blew, and blew, and towards ten o'clock it was blowing so hard that the miller, who had been trying not to hear it for some time, at last came to the con- clusion that he must attend to it,. " Damn it," says he to himself—I am indebted, by the way, to Tom for the soliloquies of the characters in this story—" Damn it," says he, " This won't do, my lad. Wind's my master, whichever way you look at it. Full or empty, singing or dumb cold sober, up I must go." Up, therefore, the miller went. That he was singing beautifully on that night is a well-proven fact ; Tom has a friend whose great, great grandfather heard him. " Regular .melodious ; we knowed something would come of it." That, unfor- tunately, is the one authenticated link with the- past that exists. Nobody knows who saw the miller enter the milli It could not have been the pedlar, because he was sound asleep in his cart. Nevertheless, the facts are known: The miller reached his mill, mounted the ladders, and unlocked the sails. Soon the pedlar awoke.
I may- not indulge in surmises. I can merely record that the pedlar awoke because; having hitched his donkey to one of the mill milli, he, and it, and the cart, were now all• flying round and round and round: Why the pedlar did. not fall out of the cart I do not know ; but he did not The Whole outfit continued to fly round until the wind dropped, when it came to earth. The miller meanwhile had been making flour and melody, and it is well known that he excelled himself that night in the making of both. Some time in the early Morning the pedlar was observed driving his donkey and Cart at a breakneck Pace towards the sea, nor was he ever seen or heard of again.
That is according to the legend, but ras I have said, the donkey, if not the pedlar, is heard of occasionally 4 braying mournfully as it revolves up there on windy nights. Once or twice I have fancied I heard the pedlar shouting at it to stop, and again I have seerned to detect a musical echo of the miller's magnificently high-spirited and uproarious songs ; but this may be only because, as Tom would say, these sounds ought to be heiird.-: • The other notable Presence, the uncatchable, invisible, and practically impossible' Rat; remains as yet quite un- accounted for I have thumped tjh Vie walls 'behind which it appears-to live. I have laid trails of cheese to lure it into the open, so that I might at least set eyes on it. I have hissed at like a snake,. This jiat-pfesenee will not go away. It scratches, scrapes, and makes shrill moeking noises sometimes for 'hours together,. at night coming out to dance triumphantly .in the " middle of the ;floor, only to. vanish when I flash my torch on the place.where it ought to be Is it, perhaps, a ghost-rEit revisiting the scene of old: orgies; when the golden grain' was stacked here" on the floor ? There is certainly nothing tangible for it to eat, so that, unless it is 'a Presence, I fail to see how it can go on liVing. Not being properly Tom says, it should not be in the mill, in any case.:.
H. M.
Previous page
