Australian Tales - Setis

my friend, “had such an effect on my boyish fancy, and created such a
dread of straying legs, that rather than even pass the churchyard wall
after dark, I have walked two miles round.”
I remember stopping — some years ago — at a comfortless bush inn,
after a wearisome day's journey on horseback. The weather had been
wet, and the roads were boggy. I reached the inn about two hours after
sunset; and a more uninviting reception I never met with in travelling. I
was shown into a dreary apartment, and after the lapse of an hour was
supplied with a greasy supper.
When I had finished my meal, I rang the bell and asked the landlady if
she could accommodate me with a newspaper. She replied, that in
consequence of the river being flooded, there had been no postal
communication for several days; but she had last Saturday's —
— Mercury. I had read that issue of the paper, so I asked if she could
oblige me with a book. She thought she could, and in a short time
brought me a tattered volume of Mrs. Crowe's “Night Side of Nature.” I
sat before the fire and read about ghosts and spectres, until a sort of
horrible fascination stole over me; and it was long after the house had
been closed, that I was warned to bed by the flickering candle. But the
terrors of that night are still vividly before me, when I allow my mind to
dwell on them. A short allowance of bedding, a hard bed, an illventilated
room, and a supper of fat bacon, are quite enough to mar
refreshing slumbers; but my physical discomforts were nothing
compared with the mental horrors which gradually crept over me, until
they completely got the mastery of my reason, kept sleep from my
eyelids, and filled my chamber with imaginary spectres, diabolical
enough to scare even Mrs. Crowe herself. I have not seen that lively
book since, nor do I wish to see it again. I recommend it — with all
similar books — to be carefully kept out of the reach of children, and
dismal-minded adults; as it is very likely to frighten them out of their
wits.
I would advise parents, and all persons entrusted with the care of
children, to be very cautious what story books they allow them to read,
or what stories they allow them to hear; for I have good authority in
stating, that many poor children have had their minds shaken to idiocy by
ghastly legends and romances, which only Satan himself could dictate,
and which can serve no better end than to please him.
I wish all those persons, who either thoughtlessly or savagely delight in
frightening children, could be made as thoroughly ashamed of
themselves as my literary friend Grinn was, some time ago. Mr. Grinn
was by no means an enemy to children; on the contrary, he was usually a
favourite with them, and few old men studied to please them more than
he did, in general. But even literary men are peevish at times, and the
event I am about to record, happened on one of those days when Mr.