More About Witches

Southland Times, Issue 20207, 18 June 1927, Page 22 (Supplement)

More About Witches

—Highly Commended.— Witches are really very, very wicked fairies, who are banished from Fairyland to the earth in the shape of ugly old mortal women. Wickedness in a fairy can easily be discerned for the blackness in her heart comes out on the skin for everyone to see. Luckily it is not very often that a fairy is changed to a witch, or this poor old world would be over-run with them, for they live for a great number of years. The time of which I write was a sad one in Fairyland, for already three pitch black witches had been sent to the world, and now another fairy w r as beginning to turn black. She was not a very bad fairy, but only those of purest white may stay in Fairyland, so out she must go. The Fairy Queen wept when she sentenced her, for she was fond of this fairy despite hex wickedness. However, the partly white witches are sometimes restored to Fairyland, so there was hope for this witch. She was really more funny than ugly to look at, for her nose, ears, hair, arms, and all the fingers except the little one of the right hand were black, and the rest of her was white as white. The people laughed when they saw her riding over the town on her broomstick, with five white cats and one black one sitting behind her. She shook her fist at them and vowed revenge, but in the depths of her heart she was ashamed. That night as she sat by her fire in the cave which the Queen had given her, she wondered if she would ever see Fairyland again. Then stirring the broth angrily she said to the black cat in such a voice, that the poor thing nearly jumped out of its skin. “What are you staring at me for? You black thing you!” Next morning she hobbled out of the cave and set off on mischief bent. A child was playing on the street with a toy horse. She waved her stick and the horse vanished. The child looked at the place where his horse had been. His blue eyes filled with tears, and his mouth opened wide. The witch hurriedly restored his toy, and went on her way mumbling about children who would cry when a poor old witch tried to have a little fun. She made all the milk in the town turn sour, and amused herself greatly by watching the faces of the people as the thick sour substance came out of the jugs in the place of the rich creamy milk they were accustomed to. Then she put at the door of every house a large bottle of cream and the white part of her enjoyed immensely the looks of joy on the faces of the townsfolk, when they discovered it. For two years she made mischief and made amends for it. Still not a change came in her appearance. She was thoroughly sick of being a witch, but she couldn’t help being wicked. She hated the other witches as much as they hated her, for she had more power than they had, and often spoiled their fun by breaking the spells they had cast. The people of the town came to like her, for although she harmed them she was good to them too. One morning a maiden from the town came to the witch and told her that all the people of her father,s house except herself had taken ill. None of the doctors could cure them, and would she please come and see them, for she was sure that the witch would be able to help them. “Go away child what do you think witches are for? We don’t cure people, we make them ill. Go away! Go away!” cried the witch as soon as the girl had delivered her message. The child fled from the cave to her fathers house in fear. All the physicians of the town were sitting in the room shaking their white old heads, and if shaking heads could have helped them the invalids, would have been cured a hundred times over. As soon as she was alone the old witch sat down by the fire to think. “Let them die! Let them die!” said the black fiart of her.

“No you must cure them, you cannot let them die,” cried the white. For a few minutes these two little voices argued within her, and the voice of her better self won. Muttering—saying she would not cure them, she took her wand and her cats and hobbled off to the town. It was plain for her to see they were under a very powerful spell cast by the other witches. To break it she must use all the power she possessed, and then she would be at the mercy of the other witches. Still she had made up her mind to cure them so cure them she must. Chanting slowly she waved her wand. The spell slowly began to break, then with a great cry as they saw the invalids recover the other witches rushed at her, but they stopped abruptly, for there before them stood the Fairy Queen and a white witch. “You have won back your fairy-ship,” cried the Queen. “Come back with me.” And the witch, now a fairy smiled on the other witches who were gazing at her with open mouths, and flew out of the window back to her beloved Fairyland. If, by chance you visit this town you will be sure to be told the story of the witch who was not all black. —2 marks to Cousin Betty Griffiths (15), 23 Passmore Crescent, Maori Hill, Dunedin. —Highly Commended.— “She is a witch, a horrible black witch,” exclaimed Mary Travers to her chum, Stella Murray, as they seated themselves on the grass in the shade of a tree. Stella shuddered and cast an uneasy glance over her shoulder. “Hush, Mary!” she said, “don’t talk too loud. What if she heard you say that?” Mary shrugged her shoulders and laughed. “I suppose she’d cast a spell over me and treat me like the story books say,” she said. “Who is she, and where does she live?” asked Stella. “She lives in an old tumble-down house about seven miles away. I don’t know what her name is, but they call her “Black Peg.”

She roams about the country with that great ugly black cat. She goes begging and if you don’t give her something when she calls she will be awfully nasty. When Mrs Grey told her to go away she did get wild. She swore that she would make Mrs Grey be sorry. And so she did, too. She gave Mrs Grey’s girl a lollie when she went out the gate, and the girl took sick and nearly died. People say that the lollie was the cause of it because Dolly Grey was perfectly healthy till then.” “How awful,” said Stella. “But what right had she to chase us from that orchard. It doesn’t belong to her does it Mary?” “No, but she often stays in the old hut behind the plum trees. I suppose she thought we were prying after her. I never knew she was around this way, for I’m pretty sure I wouldn’t go within miles of her old black face. Ugh! She gives me the creeps.” “She gave me a nice fright anyway,” said Stella, “I won’t forget her again in a hurry. Whose orchard is it?” “It belongs to my grandad,” said Mary. “He lets Peg come and go because she doesn’t do any harm.” The two girls had gone to gather some plums when they met “Black Peg” who had chased them with her arms waving above her head and her hair flying about in untidy masses. She was talking fast too, but the chums didn’t wait to listen to her. “Well,” said Stella looking at her watch, “let’s move on. It will be tea time soon, Mary, and your mother said not to be late.” “Yes, I know,” said Mary. “We will have to take a short cut home now. Look, we will go through those paddocks.” The girls started off walking quickly for they had a long way to go. They were half-way through the paddock when they heard someone call out. They stopped and looked round to«see a figure running after them. “It’s Peg,” gasped Mary. “Quick Stella,” and the two started running away, thinking “Black Peg” was chasing them again. “I wonder what she wants,” panted Stella. Suddenly they heard a noise like a bull bellowing and upon looking to the right they were horrified to see Farmer Brown’s big wild bull galloping towards them, with its head down. Stella shrieked and clung to Mary who was also terrified. Suddenly the bull turned and charged off to the opposite direction. “Oh!” breathed Mary in a tone of relief. “I am glad. Quick Stella —why, what’s up?” Stella was standing like one in a dream. To Mary’s question she just pointed towards the bull which was charging about like mad. Mary could hardly believe her eyes for running away from the bull was Black Peg. She had one arm in the air waving her old red scarf. “Goodness, that’s Black Peg,” she exclaimed. “Oh, Stella she must have known that die bull was loose. That was why

] she chased us. Oh! If we had only known. • Quick! We’ll race to the road.” The girls reached the road to see Farmer Brown and men armed with forks coming towards them. When Farmer Brown saw the girls he looked relieved but when Mary hastily explained about Peg he set off to that corner where Peg was last seen. There was a big stack in the corner and Peg was seated on it. She was waving her arms about, but what she was muttering I don’t know. The bull was rushing round and round but he was soon overpowered by the men and their forks, and meekly let them tie him up. Meanwhile, Peg climbed down and disappeared. That night the girls came to the conclusion that “Black Peg” was not all black. If she hadn’t acted quickly something terrible, if not death, might have happened to the two girls. —2 marks to Cousin Mabel Wright (15), Makarewa. —Highly Commended.— “Oh dearie me,” sighed Blackpoint, the witch. “I wish children would not run away from me as they do. I would not hurt them.” Blackpoint was indeed a powerful witch, but she was not powerful enough to stop the children from running away. All the village children ran whenever they saw her coming. Now, Blackpoint was not the kind of witch you read about, she was always doing kind deeds. More like a fairy than a witch. But there it is. She always wore a black dress, a black pointed hat, carried her black cat on her shoulder, and hobbled along like any other old witch. ’Twas no 1 wonder the children ran away. One day, however, Dorothy and LucyJones were going home from school, and, as they were half-way up the lane who should come round the corner but Blackpoint. Dorothy and Lucy were by no means cowards, but naturally their thought was to run. Then Lucy said, “Don’t run away, let’s stay here.” As Blackpoint drew near, Dorothy mustered up enough courage to say: “Hello Blackpoint.” No one had ever

spoken to Blackpoint in this manner before. They had only laughed and jeered at her; and as Dorothy spoke a pleasant smile overspread Blackpoint’s face. As soon as they were some distance away, Lucy who was a kind hearted little girl, said: “I don’t believe a person with such a pleasant smile could be wicked.” “No,” said Dorothy, “she has neither a cunning or wicked look.” Ever since that day Dorothy and Lucy have been friendly towards Blackpoint. For ,some months, some of the poorest people of the village found packages of food and clothes on their doorsteps in the morning. A long time passed before anyone knew who was doing this kind thing. It was Dorothy and Lucy who found out that it was Blackpoint. The people, however, would not believe that the girls had spoken truthfully until they themselves saw Blackpoint placing the packages. After that Blackpoint had many friends, but her special ones were Dorothy and Lucy. She always felt that she owed a great deal of her happiness to them, and many were the happy hours all three spent together. Dorothy and Lucy were satisfied now it was proved to the villagers that Blackpoint did not use her magic in wicked doings but in kind ones. —2 marks to Cousin Clare Hunter (10), Riverton. —Highly Commended.— In a pretty little forest glade of Southern Scotland there lived a happy band of bush elves. They were called the “Brightness” tribe. To them the glade was quite a big valley; yet humans might just walk through the ferns and never notice it. At the head of the valley there was a muntain which was really a mound at the root of a tree. There were many families of elves, but they all lived in the middle or on the sides of the valley. They had lovely little roads up the hills which one step by mortals would crush. But there was only one road up the mountain. That road led to a witch’s house. No one dared go up there, as she was a very bad witch. If anything was missing, the witch was blamed, and she was usually guilty, too. The witch would come out at night and help herself to all she needed. No one could see her as she was as black as the night. One night the elves were wakened by a certain one of them called Merriness. She told them that her little son, Dewdrop, who was only two weeks old, was missing. (In elf-land, two weeks is really quite old). A search party looked right over the valley, but Dewdrop was not found. When the travellers returned, and there were still no tidings, it was decided that the black witch must have stolen her. Merriness asked who could go with her to see. Some of the brave elves volunteered to go, so they set off about eight o’clock in the

morning. Merriness told them that Dewdrop had been talking of the witch quite a lot of late. She said that she had put him to bed the night before, and when she had gone to look at him an hour or so later, he was gone. When they sighted the queer little house, most of them felt afraid, but they would not say so. Merriness knocked at the door and the dark witch appeared. The former trembled a little as she said, ’’Have you seen my little son, Dewdrop, anywhere?” ‘‘Yes,” said the witch, “I found him almost drowned in my pond this morning, but I have revived him. Come in, here he is!” There he was eating a cup of broth, but looking very pale. When Merriness asked him why he had gone away from home he said, “I had wanted to see her for a long time, but I could only get away at night. I did not believe what you said about her, so I came to see.” The witch then told them her troubles. “I thought you would not like me,” she said, “bo I lived here by myself. Poverty forced me to steal, so what am Ito do? You know I cannot work magic or anything like that, but I am different from other people.” “Come back with us!” they said. So she went and lived down with the other elves, and learned to earn her own living

She could not help being naughty some- | times, but to remind people that she had | once saved one of their little boys, a golden (spot grew on her forehead, and she was an “All Black,” no more. —2 marks to Cousin Clara Elsie Buckingham, (12) Putangahafi. —Highly Commended.— Once upon a time there lived a horrid old witch called Ipswitch, who, all the same, was not always doing bad things. One day as she was going past a little cottage she heard some one crying so she went to see who it was. There on the grass was a little boy crying. So she asked him what he was crying for, but he only cried more when he saw the witch. She told him that she was not going to harm him, and he ceased crying and told the witeh that he could not find his mother. After he finished telling her, the witch worked a magic spell and before he knew what had happened he was beside his mother in one of the streets. As the old witch trudged along she thought she would make amends for the good deed she had just done a little while ago. Then when she was going through the streets she saw the lights beaming merrily. Then she smiled to herself as she said some magic words and the lights went out