awn mother as is dead. More folks b'lieved in the spring then than what do
now, 'cause that was sebenteen year agone. An' from bein' a puny cheel I
grawed a bonny wan arter dipping. But some liked the crick-stone better for
lil baabies than even the Madern brook."

"Men-an-tol that stone is called?"

"So 'tis, awnly us knaws it as the crick-stone. Theer's a big hole in en,
an' if a cheel was passed through nine times runnin', gwaine 'gainst the
way of the sun every time, it made en as strong as a lion. An' 'tis good
for grawn people tu, awnly folks is afeared to try now 'cause t'others
laugh at en. But I reckon the Madern brook's holy water still. An' theer's
wonnerful things said 'bout the crick-stones an' long stones tu. A many of
'em stands round 'bout these paarts."

"D'you know Men Scryfa--the stone with the writing on it? That's a famous
long stone, up beyond Lanyon Farmhouse."

"I've seed en, 'pon the heath. 'Tis butivul an' solemn an' still, all aloan
out theer in a croft to itself. I trapsed up-long wan day an' got beside of
en an' ate a pasty wi' Joe. But Joe chid me, an' said 'tweer a heathenish
thing sticked theer by the Phoenicians, as comed for tin in Solomon's
times."

"Don't you believe that, Joan. Men Scryfa marks the memory of a good
Briton--one who knew King Arthur, very likely. I love the old stones too.
You are right to love them. They are landmarks in time, books from which we
may read something of a far, fascinating past."

"Iss, but I ded'n tell 'e all 'bout the Madern waters. The best day for 'em