the story goes, the devil came, driving teams of oxen, and, as some of them were lazy, he plucked this tree from the ground and used it as a goad.  The poor butler lost his senses and never recovered them.”  Although, as it has been truly remarked, “on the waters that wash the shores of the county of Devon were achieved many of those triumphs which make Sir Francis Drake’s life read more like a romance than a sober chronicle of facts;” the extraordinary traditions told respecting him have largely invested his life with the supernatural.  But, whatever may have been the nature of his dealings with the devil, we are told that he has had to pay dearly for any earthly advantages he may have derived therefrom in his lifetime, “being forced to drive at night a black hearse, drawn by headless horses, and urged on by running devils and yelping headless dogs, along the road from Tavistock to Plymouth.”

Among the many tales related, in which the demoniacal element holds a prominent place, there is one relating to the projected marriage of his wife.  It seems that Sir Francis was abroad, and his wife, not hearing from him for seven years, concluded he must be dead, and hence was at liberty to enter for a second time the holy estate of matrimony.  Her choice was made and the nuptial day fixed; but Sir Francis Drake was informed of all this by a spirit that attended him.  And just as the wedding was about to be solemnised, he hastily charged one of his big guns and discharged a ball.  So true was the aim that “the ball shot up right through the globe, dashed through the roof of the church, and fell with a loud explosion between the lady and her intended bridegroom.”  The spectators and assembled guests were thrown into the wildest confusion; but the bride declared it was an indication that Sir Francis Drake was still alive, and, as she refused to allow another golden circlet to be placed on her finger, the intended ceremony was, in the most abrupt and unexpected manner, ended.  The prettiest part of the tale remains to be told.  Not long afterwards Sir Francis Drake returned, and, disguised as a beggar, he solicited alms from his wife at her own door; when, unable to prevent smiling in the midst of a feigned tale of abject poverty, she recognised him, and a very joyful meeting took place.

And even Buckland Abbey did not escape certain strange influences.  Some years ago, a small box was found in a closet which had been long closed, containing, it is supposed, family papers.  It was arranged that this box should be sent to the residence of the inheritor of the property.  The carriage was at the abbey door, into which it was easily lifted.  The owner having taken his seat, the coachman attempted to start his horses, but in vain.  They would not, they could not, move.  More horses were brought and then the heavy farm horses, and eventually all the oxen.  They were powerless to start the carriage.  At length a mysterious voice was heard declaring that the box could never be moved from Buckland Abbey.  Accordingly it was taken from the carriage easily by one man, and a pair of horses galloped off with the carriage.