#devonshire witchcraft

The Elizabethan sea captain, privateer and navigator, temains of course a figure of global fame, particularly in connection with the 1588 defeat of the Spanish Armada His connection with Devon is also well known, but less well known is his legendary status as a powerful magician, witch, and leader of Devonshire covens.

In c. 1540, Sir Francis Drake was born in the west Devon town of Tavistock. In 1580 he purchased Buckland Abbey, a seven hundred near Yelverton on the south-western edge of Dartmoor. Anyone who was seen to have made great achievements and remarkable feats, in the days when witchcraft was widely believed in, was likely to have their successes put down to magic, and some form of pact with spirits. Such was certainly the case with Drake, who was said to have sold his soul to the Devil in exchange for victory and success, and there are numerous tales and traditions of his magical powers and his working relationship with the spirit world. One such tale concerns his alterations to Buckland Abbey.

During the building work, the workmen would down their tools at the end of the day, only to return in the morning to find the previous day's work undone and interference from the spirit world was suspected. Drake decided to find out for himself what was happening and that he would spy on the culprits. As night fell, he climbed a great old tree overlooking the house, and waited. When midnight came, out of the darkness emerged a horde of marauding demons, gleefully clambering about over the house and dismantling all the stonework put up during year old manor house the day.

Loudly, Drake called out 'Cock-a-doodle-do!" in the manner of a cockerel, crowing in the dawn. The mischievous spirits suddenly stopped their shenanigans in confusion, and Drake lit up his smoking pipe. As they spotted the glowing light in the tree, the spirits believed the sun was coming up and departed back into the shadows from whence they came. Presumably, they were so embarrassed at having been so easily fooled that they never returned, and the building work continued unhindered.

Traditionally housed in Buckland Abbey, is Drake's legendary drum. Beautifully painted and decorated with ornate stud-work, the drum is popularly said to have accompanied sir Francis Drake on his voyages around the world. As he lay on his deathbed on his final voyage, it is said Drake ordered that his drum be returned to England and kept at Buckland Abbey, his home. Here, the drum should be beaten in times of national threat, and it will call forth his spirit to aid the country. Indeed, there have been numerous occasions when people have claimed to have heard Drake's drum beating, including during the English Civil War and the outbreak of the Frist World War.

In 1918, a celebratory drum roll was reported to have been heard aboard the HMS Royal Oak following the surrender of the Imperial German Navy. An investigation was carried out with the ship being thoroughly searched twice by officers and again by the captain. As neither a drum nor a drummer could be found, the matter was put down to Drake's legendary drum.

During World War II, much weight was added to the drum's legendary protective influence, particularly over the city of Plymouth which, it was said, would fall if the drum was ever removed from its home at the Abbey. When fire broke out at Buckland Abbey in 1938, the drum was removed to the safety of Buckfast Abbey.

Bombs first fell on Plymouth 1940, and again in 1941 in five raids which reduced much of the city to rubble. In 1172 civilians lost their lives in the 'Plymouth Blitz’. Drake's drum was returned to Buckland Abbey, and the City remained safe for the remainder of the war.

Like many reputed witches and magicians, Sir Francis Drake was said to possess a familiar spirit to aid him in his work. The presence and influence of this spirit turns up in the stories surrounding his marriage in Like 1585 to Elizabeth Sydenham, daughter of Sir George Sydenham the Sheriff of Somerset. Some sources that Elizabeth's parents we disapproving of the union due to Drake's reputed involvement in the black artes and that the marriage took place shortly before he departed for a long voyage. After no news had been heard from Drake for a number of years, Elizabeth's parents took the opportunity to persuade her to declare herself a widow. Another account states that Drake's departure for his voyage took place before the wedding. In both versions however, The Sydenhams arranged for their only child to be married instead to a wealthy son of the Wyndham family.

It is said that Drake had left his familiar spirit to keep watch over his beloved while he was away, and that the spirit made him aware of her planned wedding to another man. On the day of the wedding, there was a loud clap of thunder, and a meteorite came crashing through the roof of the church. Some said that this had been a cannonball shot from Drake's ship to halt the wedding. In any case, it was taken as a bad omen against the wedding between Elizabeth Sydenham and the son of the Wyndham family.

The meteorite itself, known as ‘Drake's Cannonball' has been housed at Combe Sydenham ever since.

Another popular legend featuring Drake's reputed and remarkable magical abilities concerns the creation of the Plymouth Leat. As Plymouth had suffered problematic water shortages through dry summer months, it is said that Drake took his horse and rode out onto Dartmoor to search for a water source. Upon finding a small spring, he uttered a magical charm over it and it burst forth from the rocks as a flowing stream. Drake galloped o on his steed, commanding the flowing waters has he die so to follow him back to the city. Today, the Plymouth Leat has its beginning at Sheepstor on the western side of Dartmoor and ends in a reservoir just outside the city.

There are, of course, a number of traditions of magic and witchery surrounding Sir Francis Drake's defeat of the Spanish Armada. He is said to have presided as Man in Black' over a number of covens, and that during the threat of invasion, he and his covens assembled on the cliffs at Devil's Point to the south west of Plymouth. There they performed magical operations to conjure forth a terrible storm to destroy many of the Spanish ships. It is said that to this day that Devil's Point is haunted by Drake and his witches, still convening there in spirit form.

Another, more famous legend, tells of Sir Francis Drake playing a game of bowls on Plymouth Hoe when news was brought to him of the approach of the Spanish fleet. In one version he is said to have casually continued his game to its conclusion which, it has been suggested was a magical spell; with the bowls he was scattering with his drives representing the invading fleet. In another version, he stops his game to order a hatchet and a great log to be brought to the Hoe. He then proceeded to chop the wood into small wedges whilst uttering a magical charm over them as each one was thrown into the sea, and as each one hit the water they transformed into great fire ships; sailing out to burn the Armada.

The folklore surrounding Sir Francis Drake also includes his deep association with the Wild Hunt. Sometimes he is seen as leading the ghostly pack of Wisht Hounds', and at others he is the riding companion of the Hunt's more traditional leader; the Devil. In some Stories Drake rides in a spectral black coach, drawn by black, headless horses and followed by a great pack of black, otherworldly hounds with eyes burning red in the night. Sometimes his coach horses are seen with their heads, and have eyes blazing like hot coals.

One such story tells of a young maid, running desperately across the moors to escape an evil man on horseback she is being forced by her adoptive family to marry. Upon reaching a remote crossroads, and collapsing there in exhaustion, the ghostly pack of hounds and horse drawn coach approach from the darkness. Stopping at the crossroads, a man steps out of the coach, and the young woman recognises him to be the ghost of Sir Francis Drake.

He enquired of the young woman, why she was out on the moor alone and in a state of desperation and exhaustion, and she told him of her plight. Drake pulled from beneath his cloak a box and a cloth, and gave these to the young woman telling her to continue gently on her way, and not, under any circumstance, to look back.

The maid did as she was instructed, and when her pursuer reached the crossroads, he asked of the dark figure in the coach if he had seen a young maid passing by. Drake asked the man to step into his coach, and as he did, its door shut fast and the coach and hounds disappeared back into the darkness. The man was never to be seen again, and it is said that when morning came, his horse was found at the remote crossroads and had apparently died of fright.

According to research by the Devonshire cunning man Jack Daw, there is said to be a family line of Pellars, descended from the girl who encountered the spirit of Sir Francis Drake on the Moor. Their powers, it is claimed, are derived from the gift of the box and cloth he had given to her on that night.”

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Silent as the Trees:

Devonshire Witchcract, Folklore & Magic

The legendary prophetess and reputed witch, Ursula Sontheil, or 'Mother Shipton' as she became known, is of course heavily associated with Knaresborough in Yorkshire, the land of her birth, but she came to live for many years near the Devon border.

Her mother, Agatha Sontheil, who was also a reputed witch, is said to have given birth to Ursula in the cave which now bears her more famous name, and which is home to the world famous 'petrifying well’. Mother Shipton was known also as 'the Devil's bastard', for it is said that her father was not a mortal man, but a spint her mother Agatha had encountered as 'a well-dressed, pleasant spoken young man' whilst walking in nearby woods. He took pity on her for she was deeply sad of her poverty, took her as his lover and gave to her many magical powers, including the ability to cure or kill, to conjure forth storms, tempests, thunder and lightning, to have command over man and beast and to foretell the future.

A journey through some lonely place, while bearing troubles of some kind, is the classic circumstance via which the witch-to-be first encounters the 'Devil’ or initiating spirit from whom she will gain her powers and magical abilities. It is a circumstance to be encountered repeatedly throughout the annals of witchcraft history and lore.

Ursula was born, it is said, in 1488 with various physical deformities including 'big bones, large goggling eyes, a long crooked nose and with crooked misshapen legs.' Such an appearance would doubtlessly have added to her own reputation as a seer and witch.

At the age of 24, Ursula married one Toby Shipton, and in time built a successful life for herself as a widely consulted wise-woman for her powers of foresight; particularly among young women seeking some insight into their future romantic affairs.

Being of such an 'unattractive' appearance, many explained her happy marriage by accusing Mother Shipton of binding her husband by the use of a love potion. The couple left to live in Porlock in Somerset where Mother Shipton was often blamed by the locals for any storms or tragedies at sea. During her time in the West Country, Mother Shipton is said to have placed a curse on the Devon village of Silverton because of some offence its inhabitants had caused her. According to the curse, the people of Silverton will never prosper. She is said also to have predicted the very date and time of her own passing many years before the event. When the time approached, she bid farewell to her friends, retired to her bed and duly died. “

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Silent as the Trees:

Devonshire Witchcract, Folklore & Magic

From the North Devon village of Shirwell comes the story of Martha Witchalse. Her reputation was entirely that of the 'black witch', for hers was the power of the 'evil eye', and all who knew of Martha were greatly fearful of being 'overlooked or 'ill -wished by her.

She was quite evilly disposed to all in her community, and remained a lonely and, as a result, increasingly crotchety old creature. Hers clearly was not the power of wisdom. It is said though that the only warm place in her heart was kept for her beloved son, who she had given birth to when wedded in her younger days. Marriage and family life was not to last long however, for her husband died of smallpox, and her son ran away in his youth after getting himself into trouble for stealing sheep up on the moor.

Although she had seen and heard nothing from him, Old Martha's love for her absent son never diminished all through her days. Her one hope was that she would one day see him again.

As Martha grew older, shrinking, wrinkling and withering into feeble physicality, her temper and spite only grew in intensity, and so she was rather taken aback one day when a stranger, walking into the village, approached her and asked if he might have some water to quench his thirst.

Furious that someone would dare speak to her, let alone ask her aid, she hurled a bucket at the weary traveller, screaming at him to fetch water for himself at the brook. Taking up the bucket, the man quietly continued to the brook to drink away his great thirst. Back he came to return the bucket to Old Martha, who by this time found herself quite speechless that the man would dare approach her a second time, and looked ready to explode with rage. The man drew from his pocket a shining gold coin and said to Martha 'if only you had spoken to me with some civility, I would gladly have given this coin to you for directing me to water, yet as you showed me only rudeness you shall not have it.' With that he turned and walked away from the old crone.

Martha fixed her evil eye upon him, stretched out a bony finger and growled 'your time is near, and before three days are done you will know my power!"

The man laughed and continued on his way to a farm near Post Bridge where he was to lodge. On the third day however, he was seized with terrible pains and his life faded fast. The Farmer, knowing the man would soon be dead, asked him if he had any family, and the man strained to whisper with what little breath he had left 'the only family I had was my mother Martha Witchalse who lived in these parts.' Before the dawn of the following day the man had passed over.

When the news reached Old Martha, the realisation that she had taken the life of her own beloved son by ill- wishing, shook her to her bones with a dread and sorrow so deep that she rapidly pined away. Before long, the old witch of Shirwell was found dead on the cold stone of her hearth.”

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Silent as the Trees:

Devonshire Witchcract, Folklore & Magic

Rev. Sabine Baring-Gould knew and wrote of his experiences of a remarkable witch named Mariann Voaden. She is described as having been a ‘picturesque objecť’ with dark, piercing eyes, and skin the colour of mahogany from dirt. The colour red, worn as a scarf or shawl, comes up again and again as a traditional sign of a witch in West Country lore, and it is interesting therefor that Mariann was noted for wearing a red kerchief about her head or neck, as well as an old petticoat of scarlet. From Baring-Gould's account, it is very clear that Mariann was very much a white witch, or 'blessing witch’, and a ‘God-fearing soul’, however, she still took full advantage of the old fears folk held about all witches; even those who specialised in magic of the helpful and curative variety. She expected to receive gifts of food from local farms and households, and would at times encourage such placating offerings. For example, if she spotted a child passing her old cob and thatch cottage, she would emerge, fix the and say ‘My dear, I knawed a child jist like you same age, red rosy cheeks, and curlin' black hair. And that child shrivelled up, shrumped like an apple as is picked in the third quarter of the moon. The cheeks grew white, the hair went out of curl, and she jist died right on end and away.’ Of course, a good gift of food, such as a chicken, or a basket of shortly be left outside Mariann's cottage by the child's mother.

She did however at times try, in her own unique way, to show her gratitude for the gifts people brought for her, such as the parish rector's daughter who would occasionally bring her food. Mariann made for her a present out of fine lace, and gave it to the young lady on her next visit. However, as she departed with her gratefully accepted gift, Marian called after her ‘Come back, my dear, I want that lace again. If anyone else be so gude as to give me aught, I shall want it to make an acknowledgment of the kindness.’ Indeed, Mariann's piece of fine lace work was often given in thanks for some kindness, and then immediately reclaimed.

Mariann seems also to have cultivated her notoriety further by deliberately allowing her once fine old cottage to fall into an entirely dilapidated state; to the extent that people wondered how an old woman could possibly survive in what remained of it winter after winter.

When the thatch began to wear thin and develop holes that let in the rain, farmers offered her straw for the repairs, which a thatcher would have willingly undertaken for free, but she refused, saying ‘God made the sky, and that is the best roof of all.’ To keep her head dry as the rains poor child to the spot with a dark gaze eggs, would poured in through her deteriorating roof, Mariann sealed up her chimney by stuffing it with a sack filled with chaff and slept with her head inside her bedroom fireplace.

Eventually, her staircase rotted from its exposure to water and collapsed; leaving Mariann having to climb a precarious makeshift ladder to access her bedroom. When the parish rector, concerned for her safety, tried to make her see the dangers of her living conditions, she said to him ‘My dear, there be two angels every night sits on the rungs of the ladder and watches there, that nobody comes nigh me, and they be ready to hold up the timbers that they don't fall on me.' The ladder however suffered the same fate as the stairs and soon collapsed from rot, forcing Marian to live in one room on the ground floor.

When inevitably the whole roof fell in, it brought down the upstairs floorboards with it, forming a 'lean to' roof under which Marian sheltered against one of the walls in her downstairs room. As the door was now blocked, Marian's only way in and out of what little remained of her cottage was a window through which she climbed.

Finally, as water inundated her tiny living space, Marian slept inside an oak chest with its lid propped up by a brick.

Baring-Gould, on a visit to Old Marian, once took his youngest daughter with him. The witch noticed the girl had 'breakings-out’ on her face and said ‘Ab, my dear, I see you want my help. You must bring the little maiden to me, she must be fasting, and then I will bless her face, and til two days she will be well.'

Like many a rural charmer, Mariann possessed the ability to stanch the flow of blood from a wound, of blood charming' as it is known, and could perform this act even at a distance from the patient. A man once wounded his leg badly when hay was being cut about eight miles from Mariann's cottage. The blood flowed from his leg 'in streams’ and a kerchief was dipped in this and given by the farmer to a man who rode vith it on horseback as fast as he could to Old Marian. As soon as she charmed the kerchief the blood in the man's wound ceased to flow.

Marian had a book of charms, which she had promised to Baring-Gould, sadly however he was never to receive it, for the remains of her cottage and her few possessions were destroyed by fire. She had been distracted one day, when the local fox hunt, from whom she always received a gift, stopped on its way past her cottage. Climbing out to see them, she left a small fire burning on her floor which caught and spread from the straw lying thereabout, leaving Old Mariann Voaden nowhere to go but the workhouse.

Whilst it is a tragedy that such a valuable artefact of 19th century rural magic; a Devonshire white witch's book of charms, was lost to us, we are indeed fortunate that the Rev. Sabine Baring-Gould was able to record at least some of Mariann's charms and recipes.

For whooping cough, Mariann would cut the hair from the cross on a donkey's back, which she would enclose within a silken bag to be tied about the afflicted child's neck. When asked about this charm Mariann explained; ‘You see, Christ Jesus rode into Jerusalem on an ass, and ever since then asses have the cross on their backs, and the hair of those crosses is holy and cures maladies.'

To cure fits, Mariann would have the patient swallow wood-lice, which could be pounded if preferred but, Mariann insisted, were more efficacious if swallowed 'au naturel'.

For Burns or Scalds, recite over the afflicted part: ‘There were three Angels who came from the North, One bringing Fire, the other brought Frost, The other he was the Holy Ghost. In Frost, out Fire! In the Name, etc.’

For a Sprain, recite thrice: ‘As Christ was riding over Crolly Bridge, His horse slid and sprained his leg. He alighted and spake the words: Bone to bone, and sinew to sinew! and blessed it and it became well and so shall (name of patient) become well. In the Name, etc.’

Another Receipt for a Sprain: 2 oz. of oil of turpentine. 2 oz. of swillowes. 2 og. of oil of earthworms. 2 oz. of nerve. 2 oz. of oil of spideldock [opodeldoc?]. 2 oz. of Spanish flies.

For Stanching Blood, recite thrice: ‘Jesus was born in Bethlehem, baptized in the river of Jordan. The water was wide and the river was rude against the Holy Child. And He smote it with a rod, and it stood still, and so shall your blood stand still. In the Name, etc.’

Cure for Toothache: ‘As our Blessed Lord and Saviour Jesus Christ were walking in the garden of Jerusalem, Jesus said unto Peter, Why weepest thou? Peter answered and said, Lord, I be terrible tormented with the toothache. Jesus said unto Peter, If thou wilt believe in Me and My words abide in thee, thou shall never more fill the pain in thy tooth. Peter cried out with tears. Lord, I believe, help thou my onbelieve.'”

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Silent as the Trees:

Devonshire Witchcract, Folklore & Magic

From a 'white', if somewhat dishonest witch of Devonshire's magical history, we come now to a decidedly black' witch of Devonian legend. Of course, 'there's no smoke without fire' as they say, and perhaps contained within myth and legend there are distant memories of real events. Perhaps, also, they convey something about the spirit of the places to which such stories are attached.

Vixen Tor is an eerie and towering mass of granite on Dartmoor. Legend tells that this desolate spot was once inhabited by an evil witch named Vixiana, who dwelt within a cave beneath the tor.

It would seem that her powers as a witch were derived from the Devil, and that to maintain these she was keen to give regular human sacrifice unto her dark master. To do this, Vixiana would climb to the top of the rocky prominence, and there sit and cast her eye intently about the moor, looking out for any travellers.

When a traveller was unfortunate enough to be spotted by Vixiana, she would conjure forth a thick and swirling mist to descend, leaving the traveller confused and unable to find their way. Then, Vixiana would call out to them, as though she were guiding them to safety, however, she was instead drawing them towards a treacherous boggy area where many had lost their lives. Once caught, there was nothing the poor soul could do to escape, and Vixiana would delight in their desperate cries for help as they slowly sunk beneath the deep and sucking bog.

One day, however, the witch spied a potential victim who turned out to be no ordinary moorman, but a cunning man well versed in the magical artes. He had heard tell of the evil witch, and the many lost souls she had lured to their deaths, and so he set out that day intent on putting an end to her wicked ways.

As usual, the diabolical mist was conjured down and surrounded the cunning man, who took out of his pocket a magical ring and placed it upon his finger, whereby he became invisible.

Vixiana began her deceitful calls to safety, hoping as usual to draw the man forward towards the tor and into the bog. However, the cunning man deviated, until he found his way out of the mist, and headed on round to the other side of the tor and began to climb.

When he reached the top, he found the witch desperately straining to hear any sign that her trap had caught its victim. She sat there both infuriated and puzzled as to why she could not yet hear any hopeless cries for help, when the invisible cunning man rushed forward and pushed the evil creature from her perch to fall to her death below.

Travellers could at last pass the tor in safety, however, to this day Vixiana's furious and tormented ghost is said to be heard shrieking and wailing around that foreboding tower of rock.”

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Silent as the Trees:

Devonshire Witchcract, Folklore & Magic

James Tuckett of Exeter was a seemingly very successful 19th century cunning man known as 'white witch Tucker'. He was, however, not above employing a little trickery and deception to bolster his client's faith in his psychic and magical abilities. An account is given from the Letters of Nathan Hogg in Devonshire Characters and Strange Events of a farmer who went to consult with the white witch.

Evidently he had suffered a number of misfortunes on his farm, and these, he believed, were the result of ill- wishing directed towards him, and that the culprit was 'a red-cloaked Nan Tap’. Off the farmer went to see what could be done to defeat the old woman and lift her curse.

When into Exeter he had got

To Master Tucker's door he sot;

He rung'd the bell, the message sent,

Pulled off his hat, and in he went,

And seed a fellow in a room

That seem'd in such a fret and fume.

He said he'd lost a calf and cow,

And com'd in there to know as how,

For Master T., at little cost,

had often found the things he’d lost...

The farmer then proceeded to open up to the fellow client, in what appears to have been the white witch's waiting room', about his own troubles and related his own sad losses and his suspicions about Nan Tap. The man in the 'waiting room' seemed so sympathetic to the farmer's plight, and insisted that as his troubles were far more serious than his own, that he should go in to see the white witch first.

When Tucker was ready to receive his next client, the Farmer went into the consulting room, and to his amazement, before he had time to speak, the white witch set about successfully and accurately divining the reason for his visit.

Of course, the other man in the adjoining room was not a genuine client, but someone the witch employed to coax out of his clients the full details of their troubles or afflictions. Tucker was able to hear the conversations with clarity, because the wall which divided the two rooms had an opening which was concealed by having been merely papered over.

The client thus having been suitably impressed and fully confident, the white witch could then administer his charms and procedures. For the farmer, the charm that Tucker provided was a little bag containing some stones that the farmer was to carry about his person, he was also advised to throw water in the direction of the old woman, saying as he did so, ‘I do it in the name of Tucker'. If his problems persisted however, he was then to put a faggot up inside his chimney, set fire to it, and as it burned recite a special prayer which the white witch had taught him.”

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Silent as the Trees:

Devonshire Witchcract, Folklore & Magic

In volume one of Devon Notes and Queries, 1901, there is an intriguing account of a witch living and working in the village of North Bovey. Her name was Ann, and she was of that special class of West Country magical practitioner; a toad witch, because to work her spells and enchantments, for good or ill, she employed the aid of her toads.

Ann had many toads, and she housed them in a large and dark old steen which she kept under her dresser. From the account given about Ann, we know the names of three of her toads; they were Croppy, Rumbo and Krant. It was said that Krant was the largest and most wicked of the witch's toads, and the most feared by the villagers. Indeed Ann found some entertainment in the fear the villagers held for her and her notorious toads, and when a visitor came to her cottage Ann would sometimes delight in testing the bravery of her visitor by daring them to go over to the dresser and touch the dreaded steen.

We know also that Ann would perform the traditional form of divination known as 'the Bible and Key'. In order to decide whether or not she should proceed with a magical operation, she would take out her Bible and insert her door key between its pages so that the key's handle protruded, and would bind the book tightly shut. Then she would take hold of the protruding key and stand the book on its edge; if the Bible remained still Ann knew that there was no use in proceeding at that time. However, if the book did turn, then the operation was sure to succeed, and Ann would take out her trusty toads and begin her work.

The details however of Ann's magical work, her mode of operation and in what manner she employed her toads remains shrouded in mystery, and probable deliberate secrecy on Ann's part. Her favoured location for magical working was North Bovey churchyard, and when Ann had a spell or charm to work, she would make her way there, with her toads, under the cover of midnight's dark.

Of course, no one in the village wold have been brave enough to dare follow Ann into the churchyard at the dead of night to find out what the old witch and her toads were up to.”

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Silent as the Trees:

Devonshire Witchcract, Folklore & Magic

Rev. Sabine Baring-Gould (1834 – 1924) wrote in his ‘Devonshire Characters and Strange Events’ of a remarkable case of magical healing he was personally aware of, which had been performed by a Tiverton white witch' known as 'Old Snow'. He must have possessed a good reputation for the efficacy of his work, for as Baring- Gould explains, Old Snow did 'great business'.

The case in question involves a farmer who had caught a 'severe chill' after a night spent out in a torrential storm, trying to divert a stream which threatened to inundate his house. dldiro BPIF 3o me

As a result, the farmer became 'a wreck', having great difficulty breathing and walking bent 'almost double'. Baring-Gould himself became convinced that the man could not possibly survive, and that he would be dead within a year. He consulted with the most famous and experienced doctors and physicians he could afford, all with no success. Losing faith in conventional medical practitioners, and in desperation, the farmer decided to visit the white witch. From the day of his consultation the farmer rapidly recovered his health. Baring-Gould writes that he did not know what treatment Old Snow provided, but that the farmer was now 'robust, hearty, and looks as if many years were before him.'”

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Silent as the Trees:

Devonshire Witchcract, Folklore & Magic