ROMNEY FAIRY MAGIC

Wanganui Chronicle, Volume 72, Issue 290, 6 December 1929, Page 12

ROMNEY FAIRY MAGIC

THE LITTLE PEOPLE’S DEED Romney Marsh—once sea bed but now mainly dry land—derives much of its claim to fame through having been the last resting place of the fairies, writes Jack Homing in the Daily Telegraph. The Marsh is rich in historical associations, marks of which may be found in every square mile, but evi. deuce of the occupation by the Little People is less abundant.

Yet one of their more apparent works stands clear for all to see A mile due west of Littlestone-on-Sea is New Romney; four miles further is Old Romney, which is newer than New Romney;- and three more miles brings you to Brookland of the odd church.

The main building is 700 years old, and inside it are box pews, an old oak chest from a Spanish galleon, and a Norman font. But the spired belfry stands on the ground beside the church and entirely, detached from it.

The belfry is a tall one made of oak, some of which was found embed-'

ded in the marshes, telling of disasters at sea when Lympne was a port. The bells within, one of which was cast by a London founder in 1442 are still rung. They are supported on four main beams, which are nearly as sound as the day they were hoist. Lesser supports forming a lattice work are badly worn with age, but still stoutly lace the main members.

Originally the structure stood on a stone base at the east end of the church—at least, so said Amos, the ditcher. Amos, whose- three dogs, two cats, and a ferret worship him, and

whose power over birds and other wild things of the hedges is some, times more than natural.

Brookland folk once lived (explained Amos) in a manner which much displeased the vicar, a right Christian man. He pleaded in vain, and finally threatened dire consequences. The Lord would'smite them, he declared. They would have a sign—then let them beware!

The Little People, whose very good friend the vicar was, came to hear of the pass, and forthwith decided to supply the sign hoping thus to deliver the

unruly flock. Accordingly, one dark night, while the local people were carrying mysterious burdens from the beach to a still more mysterious destination, the fairies gathered and without much magic moved the spire to the ground and dispersed the stone-work which had supported it. Thus Amos. He laughed when it was suggested that the spire had always been where it is, and that it was erected some time after the church.

“Why put it there?” he asked. ‘‘Could they not have built a little tower for the bells, like other chutrehos?

And besides, ever since the spire has been whore it is nothing but good has been known of Brookland. You don’t toll me!”