his history, or whence he came, was never discovered, but from
the moment he left Madge Figgy's cottage neither he nor the little blue
flame was ever seen again by any of them.

HOW MADGE FIGGY GOT HER PIG.

Madge Figgy, as you already know, spent most of her life in injuring
someone. After she had left her cottage by the sea, where she spent so
much of her time in robbing the dead, she went to live in St. Buryan,
and there she spent her time in robbing the living, and doing any other
mischief that came into her head to do.

One of her victims here was her near neighbour, Tom Trenoweth,
a hard-working, struggling man who spent all his days trying to make both
ends meet, and mostly failing, poor fellow. Now Tom had a sow, a fine
great creature, on which he set great store, for when she was fattened up
enough he meant to take her to Penzance Market, where he hoped to sell her
for at least twenty shillings, for she was worth that and more of any
man's money.

As ill-luck would have it, though, Madge Figgy caught sight of the sow one
day, and from that moment she could not rest until she had got it for
herself.

Over she bustled to Tom's house in a great hurry. "Tom," she said,
"I've taken a fancy to that sow of yours, and I'll give 'ee five shillings
for her, now this very minute, if you'll sell her. Four would be a good
price, but I've set my mind on having her, and I don't mind stretching a
point for a friend."

"I ain't going to sell her now," said Tom, "I'm fattening her up for
market, and it's a long sight more than five shillings I'm thinking I'll
get for her. So keep your money, Madge, you may want it yet," he added
meaningly.

"Very well," replied the witch, shaking her finger at Tom, and wagging her
head; "I won't press 'ee to sell the pig, but mark my words, before very
long you will wish you had!" and away she went without another word.

Poor Tom! He did mark her words, and many a time he remembered them with
sorrow, for from the moment they were uttered his sow began to fail.
She ate and drank as much as ever he chose to give her, and seemed to
enjoy her food, too, but instead of growing fatter she grew leaner and
leaner, and from being a fine great beast, nearly fit for a Christmas
market, she became a poor, spare-looking thing that no one would say
'thank you' for.

"Are you willing to sell her now, Tom?" cried cruel old Madge, popping her
head round the door of the pig-sty one day, whe