over the greater portion of the Channel Islands, there lived in
Guernsey, at the Bay of Moulin Huêt, a miller of the name of Pierre
Moullin. Unlike his class generally, he was a very morose man, hard in
his dealings with the poor around him, and exceedingly unsympathizing in
all his domestic relations, as will appear as our story unwinds itself.
Before speaking of the family surroundings of Pierre Moullin we will
glance at the circumstance which forms the basis of the present tale.
Visitors to the Bay of Moulin Huêt, as well as to other parts of this
and the surrounding Islands, may have observed a crimson appearance on
the rocks, suggesting very sanguinary ideas, but for which, geologists
doubtless, would be able to account in a very satisfactory manner.
Looking at a portion of the original gully through which the water runs
after passing through the mill wheel, we find that this crimson
appearance is very visible, and as our purpose is not to raise
scientific enquiries, we will take one of the fanciful reasons (of which
there are two or three in existence), for this coloring on by the hand
of Nature, which has so abundantly bedecked Guernsey in general, and
Moulin Huêt in particular. Dipping into the Fairy lore of that part of
the island, we find that many believe that some mischievous Fairies who
annoyed the miller much with their nightly pranks were ground to pieces
by the mill wheel becoming unfastened, and that their blood remains
there to this day, as a warning to all others among the "good people"
who might wish to vent their superfluous mischief in a like manner.

So much for the Fairy lore in the Moulin Huêt Chronicles; but we must
turn our attention elsewhere to find out whose blood it was that thus
dyed the watercourse of the Moulin Huêt Mill.

At the time of which we are speaking, (the opening of the year 165-)
Pierre Moullin and his two children, a son and a daughter, lived in a