Still the boggart did his work well, and so Farmer Griggs put up with his evil ways as long as he could. At last the time came when he could bear it no longer. "Look'ee, now, Mally," said he to his dame, "it's all along o' thee that this trouble's coome intull th' house. I'd never let the boggart in with my own good-will!" So spoke Farmer Griggs, for even nowadays there are men here and there who will now and then lay their own bundle of faults on their wives' shoulders.

"I bade thee do naught but shut the door!" answered Dame Griggs.

"Ay; it's easy enough to shut the door after the trouble's come in!"

"Then turn it out again!"

"Turn un out! Odds bodkins, that's woman's wit! Dost'ee not see that there's no turnin' o' un out? Na, na; there's naught to do but to go out ourselves!"

Yes; there was nothing else to be done. Go they must, if they would be rid of the boggart. So one fine bright day in the blessed spring-time, they packed all of their belongings into a great wain, or cart, and set off to find a new home.

Oft they trudged, just as you see in the picture, the three little children seated high up in the wain, and the farmer and the dame plodding ahead.

[Ill.u.s.tration: THE DEPARTURE.]

[Ill.u.s.tration: Farmer Griggs and the Wise Man.]

Now, as they came to the bottom of Shooter's Hill, whom should they meet but their good neighbor and gossip, Jerry Jinks. "So, Georgie," said he, "you're leavin' th' ould house at last?"

"High, Jerry," quoth Georgie. "We were forced tull it, neighbor, for that black boggart torments us so that there was no rest night or day for it. The poor bairns' stomachs are empty, and the good dame's nigh dead for it. So off we go, like th' field-fares in the autumn--we're flittin', we're flittin'!"

Now on the wain was a tall, upright churn; as soon as Georgie had ended his speech, the lid of the churn began to clipper-clapper, and who should speak out of it but the boggart himself. "Ay, Jerry!" said he, "we're a flittin', we're a flittin', man! Good-day to ye, neighbor, good-day to ye! Come and see us soon time!"

"High!" cried Georgie Griggs, "art thou there, thou black imp? Dang un!

We'll all go back tull th' old house, for sure it's better to bear trouble there than in a new place."

So back they went again--boggart and all.

By this you may see, my dear, if you warm an imp by your fire, he will soon turn the whole house topsy-turvy. Likewise, one cannot get rid of a boggart by going from here to there, for it is sure to be in the cart with the household things.

But how did Georgie Griggs get rid of his boggart? That I will tell you.

He went to Father Grimes, the wise man, who lived on in a little house on the moor. "Father Grimes," said he, "how shall I get rid of my boggart?"

Then Father Grimes told him to take this and that, and to do thus and so with them, and see what followed. So Farmer Griggs went to Hugh the tailor's, and told him to make a pretty red coat and a neat pair of blue breeches. Then he went to William the hatter's, and bade him to make a nice little velvet cap with a bell at the top of it. Then he went to Thomas the shoemaker's, and bade him to make a fine little pair of shoes. So they all did as he told them, and after these things were made he took them home with him. He laid them on a warm spot on the hearth where the boggart used to come to sleep at night. Then he and his dame hid in the closet to see what would follow.

Presently came the boggart, whisking here and dancing there, though neither the farmer nor the dame could see him any more than though he had been a puff of wind.

"Heigh-ho!" cried the boggart, "these be fine things for sure." So saying, he tried the hat upon his head, and it fitted exactly. Then he tried the coat on his shoulders, and it fitted like wax. Then he tried the breeches on his legs, and they fitted as though they grew there.

Then he tried the shoes on his feet, and there never was such a fit. So he was clad in all his new clothes from top to toe, whereupon he began dancing until he made the ashes on the hearth spin around with him as though they had gone mad, and, as he danced, he sang:

"Cap for the head, alas poor head!

Coat for the back, alas poor back!

Breeks for the legs, alas poor legs!

Shoen for the feet, alas poor feet!

If these be mine, mine cannot be The house of honest man, Georgie!"

So he went singing and dancing, and skipping and leaping, out of the house and away. As for Georgie Griggs and his dame, they never heard a squeak from him afterwards.

Thus it was that Farmer Griggs got rid of his boggart. All I can say is, that if I could get rid of mine as easily (for I have one in my own house), I would make him a suit of clothes of the finest silks and satins, and would hang a bell of pure silver on the point of his cap.

But, alackaday! there are no more wise men left to us, like good Father Grimes, to tell one an easy way to get rid of one's boggart.

[Ill.u.s.tration: The Boggart Rejoices]

[Ill.u.s.tration: YE STORY OF A BLUE CHINA PLATE. This ill.u.s.trated page depicts the father seeing the man sing to his daughter, the father chasing them with a whip, and then the two flying away from his as birds.]

YE STORY OF A BLUE CHINA PLATE.

There was a Cochin Chinaman, Whose name it was Ah-Lee And the same was just as fine a man As you could wish to see, For he was rich and strong, And his queue was extra long, And he lived on rice and fish and chiccory.

Which he had a lovely daughter, And her name was Mai-Ri-An, And the youthful w.a.n.g who sought her Hand was but a poor young man; So her haughty father said, "You shall never, never wed Such a pauper as this penniless young man!"

So the daughter and her lover, They eloped one summer day, Which Ah-Lee he did discover, And pursued without delay; But the G.o.ddess Loo, I've heard, Changed each lover to a bird, And from the bad Ah-Lee they flew away.

Ah me! Ah-Lee; the chance is, That we all of us may know Of unpleasant circ.u.mstances We would like to stay, but oh!

The inevitable things Will take unto them wings, And will fly where we may never hope to go.

I would further like to state, That the tale which I relate, You can see on any plate That was made in Cochin China years ago.

[Ill.u.s.tration: Moral Blindness. This ill.u.s.trated poem depicts the two woman fighting, people plugging their ears near the goose, and running away from the goat.]

MORAL BLINDNESS

There was an old woman, as I've heard say, Who owned but a single goose.

And the dame lived over toward Truxton way, And the animal ran at loose.

It cackled up and it cackled down, Disturbing the peace of all the town: Gentle and simple, knight and clown, From the dawn to the close of the day.

Another old woman, of not much note, Lived over toward Truxton way, Who owned a goat with a s.h.a.ggy black coat, As I've heard the neighbours say.

And it was the fear of one and all; b.u.t.ting the great, b.u.t.ting the small,-- No matter whom,--who happened to fall In the way of this evil goat.

Said the first old woman, "This ugly goat Should never thus run at loose."

Said the second, "I wish they'd cut the throat Of that noisy cackling goose."

And so it happened when e'er that they Would meet each other upon the way They'd bicker and hicker the livelong day In the key of a scolding note.

But all the neighbours, great and small, Complained of both with grievous tone.

From which I gather that we all See other's faults and not our own.

H. PYLE

[Ill.u.s.tration: OVERCONFIDENCE. This ill.u.s.trated poem shows the people gazing upon the peac.o.c.k, and later running away covering their ears.]