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Roby, John

"Traditions of Lancashire, Volume 1 (of 2)"

He panted and grew weary, but she urged him on
with an unsparing hand, lashing and spurring with all her might, until
at last poor Robin, unused to such expedition, flagged and could
scarcely crawl. But needs must when the witches drive. Rest and despite
were denied, until, almost dead with toil and terror, he halted in one
of the steep gullies of Pendle near to Malkin Tower.
It was an old grey-headed ruin, solitary and uninhabited. The cold
October wind whistled through its joints and crannies;--the walls were
studded with bright patches of moss and lichen;--darkness and desolation
brooded over it, unbroken by aught but the cry of the moor-fowl and the
stealthy prowl of the weasel and wild cat.
But this lonesome and time-hallowed ruin was now lit up as for some gay
festival; lights were flickering through the crevices, and the coming of
the guests, each mounted on her enchanted steed, was accompanied by loud
and fiend-like acclamations. Shrieks and howlings were borne from afar
upon the blast. Unhallowed words and unutterable curses came on the
hollow wind. Forms of indescribable and abominable shape flitted through
the troubled elements.


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