Throwback to the Fireside Yarn published in the September 1998 issue of Downhome Magazine.
A Lost Child
by Edith Burrage
A very long time ago in the early 1800s, there lived a man named Michael Howley. Mr. Howley was a very distinguished gentleman, and owned all the land on the road side by the pond, and the other side leading towards Hearts Content for a length of maybe half a mile. On the pond side was his home, and fruit trees grew abundantly. On the other side was a beautiful grove, with tall trees that seemed to reach to the very sky.
The grove was his pride and joy and he would spend many hours there, along with his two nieces that lived with him. Many people marveled at the beauty of Mr. Howley’s land and often walked through the tall trees, on paths where benched were nestled in the shad for any visitors to sit and enjoy a wonderful day.
And so it was that a group of children from Vitters Cove came across the bank to play on the cove beach. Having played awhile they thought it would be great to go into Mr. Howley’s grove to play hide and seek.
So, over the fence and under the rails they went, to play among the trees and grass on this sunny Sunday afternoon. They were all sizes, from twelve down to two-year-old Harry, who went along with his twelve year old sister.
There were having a grand time, when one of the children said, “I hear Mr. Howley comin’ down the path.” Not wanting to be caught in his garden, they all went helter-skelter as fast as they could under the fence, over the bank and on toward their homes.
That is, all except little Harry. In their rush to escape, everyone had forgotten Harry!
Someone suddenly missed him, “Where’s Harry?” But no one knew.
Back they went, but he was nowhere to be found. They searched and called, and even went to the other end of the grove, but no sign of Harry they could find.
Now children to funny things sometimes. His sister never said a word about not finding her brother until supper time. Then the search really began. All that night and the next day, and even the next, but no trace of Harry Northover could they find.
They even questioned Mr. Howley, who was a good god-fearing man. He told them he had not been through his grove that evening. Instead he had taken his nieces for a drive to Carbonear in his carriage. They had met a little boy just outside of Perlican who was crying. They stopped and tried to pick him up, but he wouldn’t come near them. The niece said they could see children laughing and thought he was with them because they were near.
For the next week everyone in Perlican who could, went to search for the small child. Weeks passed and finally everyone realized they would never see the little boy again. Harry Northover was gone.
Summer passed, and fall and winter came and went. The family had resigned themselves that they would never know what happened to their little boy. One day while a man from Hearts Content was going in the woods to cut trees, he came upon a child lying down across a rock. “Get up out of there boy,” the man said. But the child didn’t move. The man went to pick him up and when he touched the child, the body came apart. The hot sun and the ravages of the cold weather had decomposed the body.
Frightened out of his wits, the man realized who the child was and went to Perlican to tell the family.
A small box was made and the remains of the little boy were brought home and buried in the family plot. The mystery was never solved. How did a two-year-old child get so far away from home?
I still say, “Do you believe in fairies?”
