were at all times granted.  Hapton Tower was, at this time, occupied by a junior branch of the Towneley family, and, although Lord William had long been a suitor for the hand of Lady Sybil, his proposals were constantly rejected.  In his despair, he determined to consult a famous Lancashire witch—­one Mother Helston—­who promised him success on the ensuing All Hallows’ Eve.  When the day arrived, in accordance with her directions, he went out hunting, and on nearing Eagle’s Crag he started a milk-white doe, but, after scouring the country for miles—­the hounds being well-nigh exhausted—­he returned to the Crag.  At this crisis, a strange hound joined them—­the familiar of Mother Helston, which had been sent to capture Lady Sibyl, who had assumed the disguise of the white doe.  The remainder of the curious family legend, as told by Mr. Harland, is briefly this:  During the night, Hapton Tower was shaken as by an earthquake, and in the morning the captured doe appeared as the fair heiress of Bernshaw.  Counter spells were adopted, her powers of witchcraft were suspended, and before many days had passed Lord William had the happiness to lead his newly-wedded bride to his ancestral home.  But within a year she had renewed her diabolical practices, causing a serious breach between her husband and herself.  Happily a reconciliation was eventually effected, but her bodily strength gave way, and her health rapidly declined.  When it became evident that the hour of her death was drawing near, Lord William obtained the services of the neighbouring clergy, and by their holy offices the devil’s bond was cancelled.  Soon afterwards, Lady Sybil died in peace, but Bernshaw Tower was from that time deserted.  Popular tradition, however, still alleges that her grave was dug where the dark Eagle’s Crag shoots out its cold, bare peak into the sky, and on the eve of All Hallows, the hound and the milk-white doe are supposed by the peasantry to meet on the Crag, pursued by a spectre huntsman in full chase.  It is further added that the belated peasant crosses himself at the sound, remembering the sad fate of Lady Sybil of Bernshaw Tower.

It is curious to find no less a person than Sir Francis Drake charged with having been befriended by the devil; and the many marvellous stories current respecting him still linger among the Devonshire peasantry.  By the aid of the devil, it is said, he was enabled to destroy the Spanish Armada.  And his connection with the old Abbey of Buckland is equally singular.  An extensive building attached to the abbey, for instance, which was no doubt used as barns and stables after the place had been deprived of its religious character, was reported to have been built by the devil in three nights.  “After the first night,” writes Mr. Hunt,[35] “the butler, astonished at the work done, resolved to watch and see how it was performed.  Consequently, on the second night, he mounted into a large tree and hid himself between the forks of its five branches.  At midnight, so