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Cursed Mill

Many years ago, near Newtonmore, there was once a mill that was said to be cursed. The curse had been placed on the mill, it was said, by an old witch who had a grievance with the man who owned the mill at that time. The curse wreaked havoc for some years after that. The first miller was killed in a fire. His successor died of a sudden and mysterious illness, after which the mill was burned to the ground. When the mill was rebuilt, the witch's heart softened a little and she weakened the curse. Now the mill would be safe from further problems as long as it was left idle for one day every year. Woe betide the miller who dared to use the mill on the forbidden day.

Many years later, the mill was bought by an ambitious miller who wanted to expand his business. He already owned one mill and wanted to improve his prospects with the purchase of a second one. He did not hold with superstition, nor did he like the mill at Newtonmore standing idle when he could be making money from it. The so-called witch was long dead, and the miller could not see what harm she could do from the grave. In spite of warnings not to do so, the miller prepared to keep the mill working on the forbidden day. Hardly had he set the machinery in motion than there was a terrible grating sound and everything came to a halt. The small amount of meal that had been ground was full of grit, and one of the grinding stones had, incredibly, broken into several fragments. Unwilling to admit that he might have been wrong, the miller denied to all and sundry that he had had any problems. He quietly arranged delivery of a new grinding stone and carried on working for another year.

The next year the miller was still determined to keep the mill working on the forbidden day. But this time not one piece of machinery would function in spite of the most careful maintenance. Nothing seemed to be wrong, but, all the same, nothing would work. To add to his grief and frustration, the miller discovered that a sudden and voracious plague of rats in his granary had eaten all his corn. The miller had experienced quite enough. He sold the mill, deciding it was better to concentrate all his efforts on the other mill that he owned. His troubles were not over, however. His first mill was destroyed by fire, and he himself took ill and died very soon afterwards.
<>br> The cursed mill was then taken over by yet another man, a kindly and earnest soul who had taken a young gypsy boy under his wing. They managed to set the mill to rights, and it worked beautifully, making them a good living until the old man died. The gypsy boy left to find a job elsewhere, and another miller stepped in to run the mill. Although the machinery had been well maintained and everything appeared to be in good working order, the mill refused to work properly and the miller was plagued with problems. The gypsy boy was summoned to give his advice, and much to everyone's amazement, with a tweak here and a twiddle there, he managed to get the mill to work. Nobody could work out how he did it. And yet, no sooner had he left the premises than the mill ground to a halt yet again. The miller threw up his hands in despair and left.

The gypsy boy returned to the mill to take charge. As long as he was there, the mill worked perfectly well and he made himself a good living. But after his death the mill fell into disrepair. Because of the angry words of an old woman, long dead, nobody else could ever get it to work again.Barnsley | Basingstoke |