FONTINA;

OR, THE PIXIES' BATH.

PART I.

DURING the latter part of the turbulent reign of John, king of England, Sir Roger de Stevenson became the guardian, appointed by that sovereign, of the young Henry de Bath, the orphan heir of the honourable house of Bathon, or Bath; whose principal residence, at that time, was Bath Hall, in the parish of North Tawton, Devonshire. On the estate, and within sight of the mansion, was a large circular pool, not very deep, but of such exceedingly pure water, issuing from some spring in the earth, that it was considered to possess a coolness, freshness, and an invigorating quality unequalled even in that county where rocky rivers, streams, and wells of every description are found in such abundance. It was said to be favoured and protected by the Pixies; who, according to tradition and the current opinion, delighted to sport on its margin, to sail on its tiny waves by moonlight (for Pixies are great lovers of moonshine), and above all to make it their bath.

Whether Pixies delighted in it or not, the poor certainly did so; and when the labourers were toiling in the fields during the harvest either for hay or corn, and got heated under a scorching sun, they would gladly come and slake their thirst at the Pixies' bath. The old, the feeble, or the very poor, who lived principally, if not entirely, by begging an alms at the doors of the monasteries, and of the rich, would hasten on their way, when within a mile of the spot,

to drink of these cool waters; and to beg a morsel or a small piece of money at the door of the noble family who dwelt hard by. In order to accommodate these poor people an iron cup, secured by a chain, had been fixed to a stone seat on the margin of the bath; and this little act of charity had often brought a blessing from the lips of the weary and the traveller, on the kind hand that had bestowed it, as they drew a refreshing draught from the spring.

During the minority of Henry de Bath, his guardian lived with him. Sir Roger de Stevenson was proud, covetous, churlish. He liked not to have his purse drawn upon, nor his pride and grandeur disturbed by the solicitations or the presence of the lame, the old and the ragged. With great cruelty, therefore, did he order the iron cup to be removed, thinking by so doing to hinder poor folk from obtaining water from the pool. But, strange to say, though this was twice done, the cup was found, each time, restored to its former place the next morning. Sir Roger was very angry, and though the servants, one and all, protested that they had nothing to do with it, yet he would insist it was their act and deed in opposition to his will. Accordingly he employed one or two of his own sturdy followers to remove the cup, and took it into his own possession, locked it up in his strong oak chest, and put the key in his pocket.

But what was his surprise, when on the next morning he found not the cup, but his own iron basinet (a cap worn under a helmet) chained to the stone, and saw a ragged leper very quietly using it to help himself with water from the pool! Sir Roger now raged indeed! His own basinet

made the drinking cup of a filthy, beggarly, worthless leper (as he called the poor diseased man, who was taking a draught to slake his thirst), it was past bearing! He immediately called his hounds about him, went to the pool himself, hissed and clapped his hands, set the dogs upon the suffering wretch, and drove him dreadfully frightened off the premises. The basinet was removed, and scrubbed and scoured and cleaned, as if it had been touched by a man who had the plague as well as the leprosy. This time

neither the cup nor the cap were again found at the side

of the bath.

But though the affair of the dogs was much talked of, it did not keep away the people from the grounds of young Henry, or from the seeing and the hearing of his proud guardian, Sir Roger de Stevenson. Still would the labourer and the poor come to drink water out of the palms of their own hands for the want of the cup. Still would the children of the village follow their sports on the margin of the pool; still they delighted to swim in it their little play-thing boats; to throw the daisies they had plucked from the meadows upon its surface, and to see which way they would float. Still, so said the country gossips over their evening fires, as they roasted crab apples for their jugs of hot and spiced ale, still were seen little creatures, scarcely six inches high (dressed in coats and cloaks that glittered and sparkled in the moonbeams), skimming like swallows over the surface of the pool; and this might be seen of a summer, or even of a winter's night. And whilst they so sported, these little creatures were singing so sweetly, that

the gossips who told the tale protested, that never in all their lives had they heard anything like it; never, neither when the minstrels played in the hall at Christmas, nor when they went to church, and there heard the country singers, on festival days, helped by the pitchpipe.

Some of the young girls who listened to all this, said, that when going of a morning to milk the cows, or to look for the poultry, they had often found floating on the pool, quantitics of roses and rose-buds, and lilies, and that beautiful little flower called Eye-bright, which everybody in Devonshire knew the Pixies were particularly fond of. And therefore it was to be inferred those little beings must have been there on the previous night; for who else would take the trouble to dress up a pool of water after that fashion.

But Sir Roger, who was one of those men who are so morose and moody, that they are neither happy themselves, nor like to see anything approaching to harmless mirth in others, took all this in a very ill-humour. He did not see why either men, women children, or Pixies, should have any enjoyment contrary to his wishes. He determined, therefore, to take such a course with the Pixies' bath, as none but a man so bold and having so much power would have dared to think of doing, he would have the bath destroyed altogether. In vain did his young ward pray that it might be spared, as the people on his estate and all the neighbourhood had so long been accustomed to see it, to drink of it, and to admire its reputed wonders, that the destruction of it would be very ill taken the country round.

humoured and jovial Indeed it was said he

In vain did Sir Malpas, the good parson of the parish, plead for it. loved it so well, that after he had made very free with the stout brown ale, at the hall, he always washed his face in, and took a refreshing draught from the pool, before he went to his own home, or ventured to scold his clerk, for taking a cup too much at the buttery hatch. The old nurses who had been accustomed to wash babies' faces in it, if they were girls, in order to make them grow up very fair, pleaded hard to have it left for their use. And the young women, so washed when babies, who on Midsummer eve, after performing certain rights and spells on the margin of the pool, looked with fear and awe upon its dark surface, in the hope to see reflected in it the faces of their future husbands, they also begged very hard to have it spared.

But it was all in vain, Sir Roger was decided; the pool should be destroyed. It was said that the execution of his purpose was hastened by the following circumstance:— Returning one night to the hall when it was quite dark, as he passed near the water, he heard himself called after in the most contemptuous manner. These calls were accompanied by the strangest sounds, and a hissing and a clapping of hands, even as he had hissed and clapped his hands to set the dogs on the poor leper. And when he shouted and asked who was it so threatened him, the most violent peals of laughter seemed to issue from the pool, as if to deride him and his wrath. He was very angry, went instantly to the hall, procured lighted torches, and with about a dozen stout fellows at his heels, proceeded to survey