Ambition rather than sympathy prompted a certain priest to make frequent journeys to Dawlish, where the Bishop of Exeter lay ill. His clerk usually made a competent guide, but one night the weather was so stormy that both lost their way. Angrily the priest remarked that the Devil would make a better guide. Just then a peasant appeared on a moorland pony, and led the way to a brightly lighted house, where the parson and the clerk drank and ate amongst a strange looking company. But in the morning, before either man had time to ride away, the house disappeared, and both were drowned by the inrushing sea.
Ambition rather than sympathy prompted a certain priest to make frequent journeys to Dawlish, where the Bishop of Exeter lay ill. His clerk usually made a competent guide, but one night the weather was so stormy that both lost their way. Angrily the priest remarked that the Devil would make a better guide. Just then a peasant appeared on a moorland pony, and led the way to a brightly lighted house, where the parson and the clerk drank and ate amongst a strange looking company. But in the morning, before either man had time to ride away, the house disappeared, and both were drowned by the inrushing sea.