large stones. When
they came to the haunted house, they made a good fire, and he and his
companion sat down, eating and drinking very merrily; but the farmer's
son, beginning to have some terrors upon him, had little stomach to eat.
About the middle of the night, when every thing is most silent and
solemn, at that time when every whisper of the mind is apt to create
fear, Mr. Carew took an opportunity of throwing a stone unseen up the
stairs, which, coming rumbling down again with a frightful noise, might
have at that time struck a panic into the most courageous heart. The
farmer's son turned pale, and leaped from his chair in a great fright,
believing that the old woman was making her entrance; but nothing
appearing, the same awful silence and stillness as before took place,
only fear staid behind in the farmer's breast, and Mr. Carew and his
companion kept mute, as though in expectation of what would follow; but
soon this solemn silence was disturbed by a loud thump at the door; again
the farmer leaped from his seat, crying out, O Lord! save and deliver us!
At the same time, unable to command those passages at which fear is apt
to issue out, he caused a smell almost as bad as Satan himself is said to
bring along with him. Mr. Carew caught him in his arms, and, holding his
head close to his breast, cried, don't be afraid, Mr. Liddon, for I will
make the old woman fly; at the same time, pretending to conjure her, he
repeated three times very solemnly, "Hight spirito diabolico rubro
oceano," whilst his companion went a little aside, and answered in a
squeaking tone, like Joan Liddon, unless my will is fulfilled, I will
tear them in pieces.

Soon after cock-crowing, there was another huge blow at the door, and
then they bid the farmer look up, telling him the old woman was gone;
however, he would not let go his hold of Mr. Carew. Just as day-light
appeared, his companion went forth, and picked up the stones from the
stairs, entry, &c. He had scarce done this, before the old farmer came
down, to see if his son was alive, and if they had seen old Joan. He
accosted them with, How do you do? how have you spent the night? O
father, replied the son, most terribly indeed. You can't conceive what
rattlings and noises we heard; but this good man secured me in his arms.
But what smell is this? replied the father; sure old Joan stinks of
brimstone, or something worse, if she brought this along with her. Ay,
father, father,