{"collection":"myth-cosmogony","full_text_available":true,"graph_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/api/page/gutenberg_47364/graph","html_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/page/gutenberg_47364","id":"gutenberg_47364","license":"Public Domain (US)","rights_basis":"gutenberg_metadata_copyright_false","source":"gutenberg","source_url":"https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/47364","summary":null,"tags":["Category: Language & Communication","Category: Mythology, Legends & Folklore","English language -- Dialects -- England","Folklore -- England"],"text":"Transcriber\u2019s Note:\n\n\n  In this text version of Rustic Speech and Folk-Lore:\n     words in italics are marked with _underscores_\n     words in small capitals are shown in UPPER CASE.\n  In the \u201cSELECT LIST OF WORKS CONSULTED\u201d the names of authors were\n     printed in bold.\n  The original page headings are transcribed as [Sidenote: Page Heading]\n  Other notes follow the text.\n\n\n\n\n  RUSTIC SPEECH\n  AND\n  FOLK-LORE\n\n\n  BY\n  ELIZABETH MARY WRIGHT\n\n\n  HUMPHREY MILFORD\n  OXFORD UNIVERSITY PRESS\n  LONDON EDINBURGH GLASGOW NEW YORK TORONTO\n  MELBOURNE BOMBAY\n  1913\n\n\n\n\n  OXFORD: HORACE HART\n  PRINTER TO THE UNIVERSITY\n\n\n\n\nPREFACE\n\n\nUnder the heading of \u2018The Varieties of English Speech\u2019 an article of\nmine appeared in _The Quarterly Review_ of July, 1907. The favourable\nreception accorded to it at the time prompted me to embark forthwith on\na larger work dealing with the same subject.\n\nMany books both scientific and popular have been written concerning\ndialect speech and lore, but nearly all of them are special\ninvestigations of some particular dialect. I have taken a bolder flight\nthan this. I have not given a detailed account of any one dialect, but I\nhave surveyed them all, and have gathered words, phrases, names,\nsuperstitions, and popular customs, here and there, wherever I found\nsomething that appealed to me, and that I felt would appeal to others as\nwell as myself. It was impossible to make any one category exhaustive,\nfor such was the mass of material open to me for selection, I might say\nI was \u2018fairly betwattled and baffounded\u2019. The only thing to be done was\nto make my selections fairly representative of the whole.\n\nMy aim in dealing with the linguistic side of my subject has been to\nshow that rules for pronunciation and syntax are not the monopoly of\neducated people who have been taught to preach as well as practise them.\nDialect-speaking people obey sound-laws and grammatical rules even more\nfaithfully than we do, because theirs is a natural and unconscious\nobedience. Some writers of literary English seem to enjoy flinging jibes\nat dialect on the assumption that any deviation from the standard\nspeech must be due to ignorance, if not to vulgarity besides. Since I\nwrote the last chapter of this book, I read in a criticism of Stanley\nHoughton\u2019s Play _Trust the People_, this sentence describing the\nLancashire \u2018father an old mill-hand and the homely mother to match\u2019:\n\u2018They are both drawn, you feel, to the life, and talk with ease, not to\nsay gusto, that curious lingo which seems to an outsider mainly\ndistinguished by its contemptuous neglect of the definite article\u2019, _The\nTimes_, Friday, Feb. 7, 1913. Now the definite article in north-west\nLancashire is _t_, in the south-west and south _t_, or _th_, and in mid\nand south-east Lancashire _th_. When this _t_ stands before a consonant,\nand more especially before a dental such as _t_, _d_, it is not by any\nmeans easy for the uninitiated to detect the difference in sound between\nthe simple word and the same word preceded by the article, between, for\nexample, _table_ and _t table_, or _dog_ and _t dog_. But this is not\n\u2018contemptuous neglect\u2019 on the part of the Lancastrian! It would be\nnearer the mark to say that the Lancashire dialect is characterized by\nits retention of a form of the definite article very difficult to\npronounce in certain combinations.\n\nFurther, I have endeavoured to show by means of numerous\nillustrations, how full the dialects are of words and phrases\nremarkable not only for their force and clearness, but often also for\ntheir subtle beauty, that satisfying beauty of the thing exactly fitted\nto its purpose.\n\nI have also drawn up lists showing the numbers of old words and\nphrases once common in English literature, still existing in the\ndialects. Occasionally writers of modern verse seek to restore some of\nthe words of this type to their former position in literary English,\nthereby causing the reviewer to stumble dreadfully, though he thinketh\nhe standeth. I quote the following from a literary periodical dated\nMay 2, 1913: \u2018He [the poet] debates if he shall make \u201ca nest within a\nreedy brake\u201d, or, failing this delectable situation, offers himself a\nquaint alternative,\n\n    Or I shall see with quiet eye,\n    The dappled paddock loping by.\n\nWe had always supposed in our ignorance that \u201cpaddock\u201d was a term\napplied to green fields or pastures. How Mr. ... could have seen a\npaddock \u201clope\u201d we do not know, and perhaps it would not be kind to ask\nhim to explain.\u2019 The majority of educated people are familiar with the\nword _paddock_, a toad, or a frog, from its occurrence in the opening\nlines of _Macbeth_, and in Herrick\u2019s _Child\u2019s Grace_, but it will\nprobably never again take its former place in the standard speech,\nthough it may remain very common in the dialects.\n\nIn the chapters devoted to folk-lore I have not attempted to do more\nthan chronicle certain superstitions and popular beliefs, leaving to my\nreaders the fascinating pursuit of tracing superstitions to their\nsources, and of bringing to light hidden grains of truth in apparently\nsilly beliefs. There is here plenty of scope both for scholarship and\nimagination. I once happened to mention at a dinner-party the\nsuperstition that it is a sure presage of a parting for an engaged\ncouple to stand as fellow sponsors at a baptism. My neighbour, who was a\nclergyman, immediately explained the reason for this idea by telling me\nthat in pre-Reformation days godparents were not allowed to marry each\nother. The Church recognized a sort of spiritual affinity between such\npersons, which precluded lawful marriage. It is strange to think that\nwhile joining in a Protestant service to-day, members of the Church of\nEngland are still swayed by an old law they never heard of except as it\nexists in the word \u2018unlucky\u2019.\n\nIn dealing with popular customs I have selected those that are less\nwell known, and others concerning which I have myself collected\ninformation, and have omitted many which are readily accessible in\nworks such as Hone\u2019s _Year Book_ and Chambers\u2019s _Book of Days_.\n\nI may mention that in collecting my material from very many\nmiscellaneous sources, printed and oral, I have not felt justified in\nnormalizing the orthography of the dialect quotations, especially where\nthese have been taken from glossaries. This accounts for a certain\namount of inconsistency in the orthography.\n\nAt the end of the table of contents will be found a select list of\nthe works which I have found most useful in writing this book.\n\n                                              ELIZABETH MARY WRIGHT.\n\nOXFORD,\n  _July, 1913_.\n\n\n\n\nCONTENTS\n\n\n                                                                PAGES\n\n  INTRODUCTION                                                    xix\n\n  CHAPTER I\n  DIALECT SPEAKERS\n\n  Decay of pure Dialect                                             1\n  Stories concerning Yorkshire people, &c.                        2-5\n\n  CHAPTER II\n  RICH AND EXPRESSIVE VOCABULARY\n\n  Variety of terms for expressing one and the same idea; names\n      for a fool, the smallest pig of a litter, the woodpecker,\n      the foxglove, a stream of water, a girl                     6-9\n  Forceful and descriptive dialect words difficult to translate\n      into standard English                                     10-18\n  Appropriate compound words                                    18-19\n  Fine shades of meaning expressed by slightly different words  19-20\n\n  CHAPTER III\n  SPECIMENS OF DIALECT\n\n  Specimens of dialect sentences                                21-24\n  Misunderstandings between dialect speakers and speakers of\n      standard English                                             25\n  An old Dame\u2019s School                                          26-27\n\n  CHAPTER IV\n  CORRUPTIONS AND POPULAR ETYMOLOGIES\n\n  Some apparent corruptions shown to be old forms                  28\n  Corruptions of Latin and French phrases such as: _nolens\n      volens_, _Pater noster_, _rendezvous_, &c.                29-30\n  Standard English words used in the wrong places, e.g.\n      sentiment for sediment, profligate for prolific, &c.      30-31\n  Misplaced suffixes                                               32\n  Popular etymologies                                           33-35\n  Corruptions of standard English words                            35\n\n  CHAPTER V\n  ARCHAIC LITERARY WORDS IN THE DIALECTS\n\n  Old words from early literature surviving in the dialects     36-37\n  Substantives                                                  37-43\n  Adjectives                                                    43-46\n  Verbs                                                         47-53\n  Archaic words from the Authorized Version of the Bible        53-54\n  Archaic words from Shakespeare                                54-61\n  Dialect words in Johnson\u2019s Dictionary                         61-67\n  Dialect words supply meanings to difficult forms in Old and\n      Middle English literature                                 67-71\n  Old words and forms preserved in surnames                     72-76\n\n  CHAPTER VI\n  ARCHAIC MEANINGS AND FORMS IN THE DIALECTS\n\n  Old meanings of standard English words surviving in the\n      dialects                                                  77-84\n  Historical forms surviving in the dialects                    84-86\n  Old grammatical distinctions preserved in the dialects        87-89\n  Regular forms in the dialects compared with irregularities\n      in standard English                                       90-91\n  Doublets, such as: challenge beside the dialect form\n      _callenge_, &c.                                           92-94\n  Variants due to Scandinavian borrowings                       94-95\n\n  CHAPTER VII\n  FOREIGN LOAN-WORDS\n\n  French loan-words                                            96-102\n  Scandinavian loan-words                                     103-104\n  Celtic loan-words                                           105-106\n  Latin, and Dutch loan-words                                 107-108\n  Poetical and learned words in the dialects                  108-109\n\n  CHAPTER VIII\n  LITERARY WORDS WITH DIALECT MEANINGS\n\n  Quotations illustrating the meanings given in the dialects\n      to literary words                                       110-118\n  Dialect words alike in form to existing literary words,\n      but different in meaning and origin, e.g. _damsel_,\n      a damson, &c.                                           118-120\n\n  CHAPTER IX\n  ALLITERATIVE AND RHYMING PHRASES AND COMPOUNDS\n\n  Alliterative compounds                                      121-122\n  Phrases containing two synonymous verbs                     122-123\n  Rhyming compounds and phrases                               124-125\n\n  CHAPTER X\n  PHONOLOGY AND GRAMMAR\n\n  The classification of dialects                              126-127\n  Characteristics of the various dialect groups               127-128\n  Phonology of the dialects compared with standard English        129\n  Vowels                                                      130-132\n  Consonants                                                  132-140\n  The Articles                                                140-141\n  Nouns                                                       141-144\n  Adjectives and numerals                                     145-146\n  Pronouns                                                    146-152\n  Verbs                                                       153-156\n  Negation                                                    156-157\n\n  CHAPTER XI\n  POPULAR PHRASES AND SAYINGS\n\n  Humorous similes                                            158-160\n  Metaphorical and figurative phrases and sayings             160-170\n  Proverbial sayings                                          171-174\n  Phrases referring to death                                  175-176\n  Answers to inquisitive questioners                              176\n  Dialect forms of greeting                                   176-177\n  Contemptuous and derisive expressions                           178\n  Local similes                                               178-179\n  Local nicknames and rhymes                                      180\n  Local sayings and jibes                                     181-182\n  Historical allusions                                        183-189\n  Ethnological evidence afforded by the dialects                  190\n\n  CHAPTER XII\n  SUPERNATURAL BEINGS\n\n  Belief in ghosts                                            191-192\n  Boggarts                                                    192-195\n  The Gabriel Ratchets                                            195\n  The Devil and his Dandy-dogs; Tregeagle                         196\n  The Seven Whistlers                                             197\n  Imaginary monsters referred to in threats to children       198-199\n  Mine-goblins                                                199-200\n  Will o\u2019 the wisp                                            200-201\n  Hob                                                         201-202\n  The Devil in dialect lore                                   203-206\n  Fairies and pixies                                          207-210\n  Witches, and white witches                                  211-213\n\n  CHAPTER XIII\n  SUPERSTITIONS\n\n  Death-portents                                              214-217\n  Superstitions concerning magpies, cats, robins, &c.         217-219\n  \u2018Unlucky\u2019 things                                            220-223\n  Signs foretelling gifts and guests                          223-224\n  \u2018Lucky\u2019 things                                              224-226\n  Miscellaneous legends and popular beliefs                   227-229\n\n  CHAPTER XIV\n  CHARMS AND MEDICAL LORE\n  Devices for warding off witches                             230-235\n  Superstitious remedies                                          236\n  Dialect phrases describing states of health                 237-238\n  Medicines for general debility                                  239\n  Remedies for various diseases and other afflictions         240-254\n  The seventh son, and the water-caster                       254-255\n  Charms against cattle-diseases                              255-256\n\n\n  CHAPTER XV\n  DIVINATION\n\n  Love-divination by means of plants, apple-pips, &c.         257-260\n  The hempseed charm                                              261\n  The dumb-cake charm                                             262\n  Wedding-cake under the pillow                                   263\n  St. Mark\u2019s Eve customs, and divination by Bible and key         264\n\n  CHAPTER XVI\n  BIRTH, MARRIAGE, AND DEATH CUSTOMS\n\n  New meanings grafted on to old practices                        265\n  Superstitious customs at the birth of a child               266-267\n  The birth-feast, and the special dainties prepared for it   267-268\n  The christening                                                 269\n  Concerning wedding customs                                  269-270\n  Banns of marriage                                               271\n  \u2018Lucky\u2019 and \u2018unlucky\u2019 days for a wedding                        272\n  \u2018Unlucky\u2019 omens on the way to church                            273\n  Ceremonies after the wedding                                    274\n  Wedding sports                                                  275\n  Riding the stang                                                276\n  Customs and superstitions concerning death                  277-278\n  Funeral customs                                             279-281\n  Telling the bees                                            281-282\n\n  CHAPTER XVII\n  CUSTOMS CONNECTED WITH CERTAIN DAYS AND SEASONS\n\n  The New Year                                                283-286\n  Twelfth Day, and Plough Monday                              286-288\n  Candlemas Day                                                   289\n  Shrovetide                                                  290-291\n  Sundays in Lent                                             291-292\n  Good Friday                                                 292-293\n  Easter                                                      293-296\n  May-day                                                     296-297\n  Rogation Days                                               297-298\n  Whitsuntide                                                     298\n  Rush-bearing                                                298-299\n  Halloween                                                   299-300\n  All Souls\u2019 Day, and St. Clement\u2019s Day                       300-301\n  St. Thomas\u2019 Day                                             301-302\n  Christmas                                                   302-304\n  Childermas Day                                                  304\n  Feasts and fairs                                            305-306\n\n  CHAPTER XVIII\n  GAMES\n\n  Historical importance of children\u2019s games                       307\n  Girls\u2019 singing-games                                            308\n  The game of marbles                                             309\n  Children\u2019s rhymes addressed to birds and insects            310-311\n\n  CHAPTER XIX\n  WEATHER LORE AND FARMING TERMS\n\n  The weather as a topic for conversation                     312-313\n  Signs of rain and of fine weather                           314-317\n  Prophecies concerning seasons and crops                     317-318\n  Thomas Tusser and his \u2018good husbandlie lessons\u2019             318-320\n  Decay of old farming customs                                    321\n  Harvest customs                                             322-324\n  Names for hay-cocks, labourers\u2019 meals, &c.                      325\n  Calls to animals                                                326\n  Sheep-scoring numerals                                          327\n\n  CHAPTER XX\n  WEIGHTS AND MEASURES\n\n  Varieties of weights and measures in the dialects           328-331\n\n  CHAPTER XXI\n  PLANT NAMES AND NAMES OF ANIMALS\n\n  Dialect plant names                                             332\n  Biblical names                                              333-335\n  Old English names                                               336\n  Miscellaneous names                                         337-339\n  Personal names for animals                                  339-341\n\n\n\n\nSELECT LIST OF WORKS CONSULTED\n\n\n  Addy, Sidney Oldall.--A Glossary of Words used in the neighbourhood\n    of Sheffield, including a selection of local names, and some\n    notices of folk-lore, games, and customs. E.D.S. 1888.\n\n  Atkinson, J. C.--A Glossary of the Cleveland Dialect: explanatory,\n    derivative, and critical. London, 1868.\n\n  Baker, Anne Elizabeth.--Glossary of Northamptonshire Words and\n    Phrases, with examples of their colloquial use. London, 1854.\n\n  Bible.--Wyclif, John.--The Holy Bible, containing the Old and\n    New Testaments with the Apocryphal books, in the earliest English\n    version made from the Latin Vulgate by John Wycliffe and his\n    followers [c. 1380]. Ed. J. Forshall and F. Madden. Oxford, 1850.\n\n  Blakeborough, Richard.--Wit, Character, Folk-lore, and Customs of\n    the North Riding of Yorkshire, with a glossary of over 4,000\n    words and idioms now in use. London, 1898.\n\n  Brockett, John Trotter.--A Glossary of North Country Words in\n    use. 3rd edition corrected and enlarged by W. E. Brockett.\n    Newcastle, 1846.\n\n  Browne, Sir Thomas.--Works [1640-80]. Ed. Simon Wilkin. 3 vols.\n    8vo, London, 1892-94.\n\n  Burne, Charlotte Sophia.--Shropshire Folk-Lore: a sheaf of\n    gleanings. Ed. by C. S. Burne, from the collections of Georgina F.\n    Jackson. London, 1883. See Jackson.\n\n  Chamberlain, Mrs.--A Glossary of West Worcestershire Words. With\n    glossic notes by Thomas Hallam. E.D.S. 1882.\n\n  Chope, R. Pearse.--The Dialect of Hartland, Devonshire. E.D.S. 1891.\n\n  Cole, R. E. G.--A Glossary of Words used in south-west\n    Lincolnshire (Wapentake of Graffoe). E.D.S. 1886.\n\n  Coles, Elisha.--A Dictionary, English-Latin, and Latin-English;\n    containing all things necessary for the translating of either\n    language into the other. 2nd ed. enlarged. London, 1679.\n\n  Cope, William. H.--A Glossary of Hampshire Words and Phrases.\n    E.D.S. 1883.\n\n  Cotgrave, Randle.--A French and English Dictionary. London, 1673.\n    [1st ed. 1611.]\n\n  Couch, Thomas Q.--The History of Polperro, a fishing town on the\n    south coast of Cornwall: being a description of the place, its\n    people, their manners, customs, modes of industry, &c. by the late\n    Jonathan Couch. Truro, 1871.\n\n  Courtney, M. A. and Couch, Thomas Q.--Glossary of Words in use in\n    Cornwall. West Cornwall by Miss M. A. Courtney. East Cornwall by\n    Thomas Q. Couch. E.D.S. 1880.\n\n  Cunliffe, Henry.--A Glossary of Rochdale, with Rossendale Words and\n    Phrases. Manchester, 1886.\n\n  Darlington, Thomas.--The Folk-Speech of South Cheshire. E.D.S. 1887.\n\n  Dartnell, George Edward, and Goddard, Edward H.--A Glossary of\n    Words used in the county of Wiltshire. E.D.S. 1893.\n\n  Dickinson, W.--A Glossary of the words and phrases pertaining to\n    the dialect of Cumberland. Re-arranged, illustrated, and augmented\n    by quotations by E. W. Prevost, Ph.D., F.R.S.E. London, 1899.\n\n  Ducange, C. D.--Lexicon manuale ad Scriptores Mediae et Infimae\n    Latinitatis, ex glossariis C. D. D. Ducangii et aliorum in\n    compendium accuratissime redactum. Par W.-H. Maigne D\u2019Arnis.\n    Paris, 1866.\n\n  Easther, Alfred.--A Glossary of the dialect of Almondbury and\n    Huddersfield. Compiled by the late Rev. Alfred Easther. Ed. from\n    his MSS. by the Rev. Thomas Lees. E.D.S. 1883.\n\n  Ellwood, T.--Lakeland and Iceland: being a glossary of words in\n    the dialect of Cumberland, Westmoreland, and North Lancashire\n    which seem allied to or identical with the Icelandic or Norse.\n    E.D.S. 1895.\n\n  Elworthy, Frederic Thomas.--The West Somerset Word-book. A glossary\n    of dialectal and archaic words and phrases used in the West of\n    Somerset and East Devon. E.D.S. 1888.\n\n  English Dialect Dictionary, The. Edited by Joseph Wright. 1896-1905.\n\n  Evans, Arthur B.--Leicestershire Words, Phrases, and Proverbs,\n    ed. with additions and an introduction by Sebastian Evans. E.D.S.\n    1881.\n\n  Ferguson, Robert.--The Dialect of Cumberland, with a chapter on its\n    place-names. London, 1873.\n\n  Five Original Glossaries. Series C. English Dialect Society.\n    Edited by the Rev. Walter W. Skeat, M.A. London, 1876.\n\n  Five Original Glossaries. Series C. English Dialect Society.\n    London, 1881.\n\n  Fletcher, J. S.--Recollections of a Yorkshire Village. London, 1910.\n\n  Friend, Hilderic.--A Glossary of Devonshire Plant Names. E.D.S.\n    1882.\n\n  Gibson, Alexander Craig.--The Folk-Speech of Cumberland and some\n    districts adjacent. London, 1869.\n\n  Godefroy, F.--Dictionnaire de l\u2019ancienne langue fran\u00e7aise et de\n    tous ses dialectes du IX\u1d49 au XV\u1d49 si\u00e8cle. 1881- .\n\n  Gomme, Alice Bertha.--The traditional Games of England,\n    Scotland, and Ireland, collected and annotated by Alice Bertha\n    Gomme. London, 1894.\n\n  Gregor, Walter.--Notes on the Folk-Lore of the North-East of\n    Scotland. Folk-Lore Soc. vii. 1881.\n\n  ---- The Dialect of Banffshire: with a glossary of words not in\n    Jamieson\u2019s Scottish Dictionary. Trans. Phil. Soc. London, 1866.\n\n  Hammond, Joseph.--A Cornish Parish: being an account of St. Austell,\n    town, church, district, and people. London, 1897.\n\n  Harland, John.--A Glossary of Words used in Swaledale, Yorkshire.\n    E.D.S. 1873\n\n  Harland, John, and Wilkinson, T. T.--Lancashire Folk-Lore:\n    illustrative of the superstitious beliefs and practices, local\n    customs and usages of the people of the County Palatine. London,\n    1867.\n\n  Hatzfeld, A., Darmesteter, A., et Thomas, M.A.--Dictionnaire\n   g\u00e9n\u00e9ral de la langue fran\u00e7aise du commencement du XVII\u1d49 si\u00e8cle\n   jusqu\u2019\u00e0 nos jours. Paris [n. d.].\n\n  Heslop, R. O.--Northumberland Words. A Glossary of Words used in\n    the County of Northumberland and on the Tyneside. E.D.S. 1892-94.\n\n  Hewitt, Sarah.--Nummits and Crummits, Devonshire customs,\n    characteristics, and folk-lore. London, 1900.\n\n  ---- The Peasant Speech of Devon. And other matters connected\n    therewith. 2nd ed. London, 1892.\n\n  Holland, Robert.--A Glossary of Words used in the County of Chester.\n    E.D.S. 1886.\n\n  Inwards, Richard.--Weather Lore; a collection of proverbs,\n    sayings, and rules concerning the weather. London, 1893.\n\n  Jackson, Georgina F.--Shropshire Folk-Lore, edited by Charlotte\n    Sophia Burne from the Collections of Georgina F. Jackson. London,\n    1883. See Burne.\n\n  ---- Shropshire Word-book, a glossary of archaic and provincial\n    words, &c., used in the county. London, 1879.\n\n  Jago, Fred. W. P.--The ancient language, and the dialect of\n    Cornwall with an enlarged glossary of Cornish provincial words.\n    Truro, 1882.\n\n  Johnson, Samuel.--A Dictionary of the English Language. London,\n    1755.\n\n  Kirkby, B.--Lakeland Words. A collection of dialect words and\n    phrases, as used in Cumberland and Westmoreland, with illustrative\n    sentences in the North Westmoreland dialect. Kendal, 1898.\n\n  La Curne de Sainte-Palaye.--Dictionnaire historique de l\u2019ancien\n    langage fran\u00e7ois ou glossaire de la langue fran\u00e7oise depuis son\n    origine jusqu\u2019au si\u00e8cle de Louis XIV. Niort, 1882.\n\n  Leigh, Egerton.--A Glossary of Words used in the Dialect of\n    Cheshire. London, 1877.\n\n  Levins, Peter.--Manipulus Vocabulorum. A dictionary of English\n    and Latin words arranged in the alphabetical order of the last\n    syllables [1570]. Ed. H. B. Wheatley. Camden Society, 1867.\n\n  Littr\u00e9, \u00c9.--Dictionnaire de la langue fran\u00e7aise. Paris, 1878.\n\n  Long, W. H.--A Dictionary of the Isle of Wight dialect, and of\n    provincialisms used in the island. London, 1886.\n\n  Lowsley, B.--A Glossary of Berkshire Words and Phrases. E.D.S. 1888.\n\n  Lucas, Joseph.--Studies in Nidderdale: upon notes and observations\n    other than geological, made during the progress of the Government\n    geological survey of the district, 1867-72. London, c. 1882.\n\n  Moisy, Henri.--Glossaire comparatif anglo-normand donnant plus de\n    5,000 mots aujourd\u2019hui communs au dialecte normand et \u00e0 l\u2019anglais.\n    Caen, 1889.\n\n  Morris, M. C. F.--Yorkshire Folk-talk, with characteristics of\n    those who speak it in the North and East Ridings. London, 1892.\n\n  Nevinson, Rev. Thomas K. B.--Local Provincialisms, being a MS.\n    collection made by the Rev. Thomas K. B. Nevinson, Medbourne\n    Rectory, Market Harborough.\n\n  New English Dictionary, A, on historical principles. Ed. J. A.\n    H. Murray, H. Bradley, W. A. Craigie. Oxford, 1884-.\n\n  Nicholson, John.--The Folk Speech of East Yorkshire. London,\n    1889.\n\n  Nodal, John H., and Milner, George.--A Glossary of the\n    Lancashire Dialect. E.D.S. 1875.\n\n  Northall, G. F.--A Warwickshire Word-book, comprising obsolescent\n    and dialect words, colloquialisms, &c., gathered from oral\n    relation, and collated with accordant works. E.D.S. 1896.\n\n  ---- English Folk-Rhymes. A collection of traditional verses\n    relating to places and persons, customs, superstitions, &c.\n    London, 1892.\n\n  Ormerod, Frank.--Lancashire Life and Character. Rochdale, 1910.\n\n  Palsgrave, Jehan.--Lesclarcissement de la langue francoyse. 1530.\n\n  Parish, W. D.--A Dictionary of the Sussex Dialect and collection\n    of provincialisms in use in the County of Sussex. Lewes, 1875.\n\n  Patterson, William Hugh.--A Glossary of Words in use in the\n    Counties of Antrim and Down. E.D.S. 1880.\n\n  Peacock, Edward.--A Glossary of Words used in the Wapentakes of\n    Manley and Corringham, Lincolnshire. 2nd ed., revised and\n    considerably enlarged. E.D.S. 1889.\n\n  Promptorium Parvulorum sive Clericorum, Lexicon Anglo-Latinum\n    princeps, auctore fratre Galfrido Grammatico dicto, e\n    predicatoribus Lenne episcopi, Northfolciensi, A.D. circa 1440.\n    Camden Society, 1843-65.\n\n  Robertson, J. Drummond.--A Glossary of Dialect and Archaic Words\n    used in the County of Gloucester. Ed. by Lord Moreton. E.D.S.\n    1890.\n\n  Robinson, C. Clough.--A Glossary of Words pertaining to the\n    dialect of Mid-Yorkshire; with others peculiar to Lower\n    Nidderdale. E.D.S. 1876.\n\n  ---- The Dialect of Leeds and its neighbourhood. London, 1862.\n\n  Robinson, F. K.--A Glossary of Words used in the neighbourhood\n    of Whitby. E.D.S. 1876.\n\n  Rye, Walter.--A Glossary of Words used in East Anglia. Founded on\n    that of Forby. With numerous corrections and additions.\n    E.D.S. 1895.\n\n  Taylor, Francis Edward.--The Folk-Speech of South Lancashire: a\n    glossary of words which are, or have been during the last hundred\n    years, in common use in that portion of the County Palatine\n    situate between Bolton and Manchester. Manchester, 1901.\n\n  Tusser, Thomas.--Five Hundred Pointes of Good Husbandrie. The\n    ed. of 1580 collated with those of 1573 and 1577. Together with A\n    Hundreth Good Pointes of Husbandrie, 1557. Ed. W. Payne and S. J.\n    H. Herrtage. E.D.S. 1878.\n\n  Wright, Joseph.--The English Dialect Grammar. 1905.\n\n\n\n\nABBREVIATIONS\n\n\n  Bck.   = Bucks.\n  Bdf.   = Bedford.\n  Bnff.  = Banff.\n  Brks.  = Berks.\n  Chs.   = Cheshire.\n  Cmb.   = Cambridge.\n  Cor.   = Cornwall.\n  Cth.   = Carmarthen.\n  Cum.   = Cumberland.\n  Cy.    = country.\n  Der.   = Derby.\n  Dev.   = Devon.\n  Dnb.   = Denbigh.\n  Dor.   = Dorset.\n  Dur.   = Durham.\n  e.An.  = East Anglia.\n  Ess.   = Essex.\n  Glo.   = Gloucester.\n  Hmp.   = Hampshire.\n  Hnt.   = Huntingdon.\n  Hrf.   = Hereford.\n  Hrt.   = Hertford.\n  I.Ma.  = Isle of Man.\n  Irel.  = Ireland.\n  I.W.   = Isle of Wight.\n  Ken.   = Kent.\n  Lakel. = Lakeland.\n  Lan.   = Lancashire.\n  Lei.   = Leicester.\n  Lin.   = Lincoln.\n  lit.   = literary.\n  M.E.   = Middle English.\n  Mid.   = Middlesex.\n  Midl.  = Midlands.\n  Nhb.   = Northumberland.\n  Nhp.   = Northampton.\n  Not.   = Nottingham.\n  Nrf.   = Norfolk.\n  O.E.   = Old English.\n  O.N.   = Old Norse.\n  Or.I.  = Orkney Isles.\n  Oxf.   = Oxford.\n  Pem.   = Pembroke.\n  Rut.   = Rutland.\n  Sc.    = Scotland.\n  Sh.I.  = Shetland Isles.\n  Shr.   = Shropshire.\n  Som.   = Somerset.\n  Stf.   = Stafford.\n  Suf.   = Suffolk.\n  Sur.   = Surrey.\n  Sus.   = Sussex.\n  Wal.   = Wales.\n  War.   = Warwick.\n  Wil.   = Wiltshire.\n  Wm.    = Westmorland.\n  Wor.   = Worcester.\n  Yks.   = Yorks.\n\n  The asterisk * prefixed to a word denotes a theoretical form.\n\n\n\n\nINTRODUCTION\n\n\nAmong common errors still persisting in the minds of educated people,\none error which dies very hard is the theory that a dialect is an\narbitrary distortion of the mother tongue, a wilful mispronunciation of\nthe sounds, and disregard of the syntax of a standard language. Only\nquite recently--May 5, 1910--in reviewing a book called _The Anglo-Irish\nLanguage_, a writer in the _Times Literary Supplement_ says: \u2018The\nAnglo-Irish dialect is a passably good name for it ..., but it is\nsomething more than a dialect, more than an affair of Pidgin English,\nbad spelling, provincialisms, and preposterous grammar.\u2019 Here we have a\nvery good modern instance of the old error. A dialect, we are to\nunderstand, consists of \u2018Pidgin English, bad spelling, provincialisms,\nand preposterous grammar\u2019. This comes of reading dialect stories by\nauthors who have no personal knowledge of any dialect whatever, and who\nhave never studied any language scientifically. All they have done,\nperhaps, is to have purchased the Dialect Glossary of some district, or\nmaybe they have asked a friend to supply a little local colouring. A\nlady once wrote to the Secretary of the English Dialect Society as\nfollows: \u2018Dear Sir, a friend of mine intends writing a novel, the scene\nof which is to be laid in Essex in the sixteenth century. Will you\nkindly give her a few hints as to the local dialect of that period?\u2019\nAuthors of this type put into the mouths of their dialect-speaking\ncharacters a kind of doggerel which the above definition aptly\ndescribes, their readers then run away with the idea that this\nhotch-potch is the \u2018spit and image\u2019 of a real, living, English dialect.\nAs a matter of fact, our English dialects exemplify so well the\nsound-laws of living speech, and the historical development of an\noriginally inflected language, that the Neuphilologen in Germany are\ncalling for Dialect Reading Books for German students studying English.\nA Professor in the University of Giessen has just bought fifty copies of\nWright\u2019s _Grammar of the English Dialects_ for his Seminar. Now and then\na solitary German student is sent over to England to encamp in a remote\ncountry village and write a learned Dissertation on the characteristic\nvowel-sounds of the district; an arduous task for a young foreigner\nwhose knowledge of literary English as she is spoke is an uncertain\nquantity. But the field of English dialects offers other allurements\nbesides those which attract the philologist and the grammarian. The\nlanguage-specialist merely digs and quarries, as it were, in the bare\nsoil and rock, where he finds rich ores amply sufficient to repay his\npains and toil, but there remains plenty of room for the rest of us who\nare less laboriously inclined, and at every turn are enticing paths. The\nreal charm lies in the fact that it is a \u2018faire felde ful of folke\u2019,\nnatural, homely, witty folk. If this book succeeds in pointing out a few\nof the many ways in which the study of our English dialects may not only\ncontribute to the advancement of knowledge, but also give us a clearer\ninsight into the life and character of the British peasant and artisan,\nit will have achieved the aim and object of its existence.\n\n     \u2018_Countryman._ We old men are old chronicles, and when our tongues\n     go they are not clocks to tell only the time present, but large\n     books unclasped; and our speeches, like leaves turned over and\n     over, discover wonders that are long since past.\u2019\n         The Great Frost of January, 1608. _Social England Illustrated,\n               A Collection of XVIIth Century Tracts_, p. 166.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER I\n\nDIALECT SPEAKERS\n\n\n[Sidenote: _Insignificance of London_]\n\nWith the spread of education, and the ever-increasing means of rapid\nlocomotion throughout the length and breadth of the land, the area\nwhere pure dialects are spoken is lessening year by year. It used to\nbe Mam and Dad and Porridge, and then \u2019twas Father and Mother and\nBroth, but now \u2019tis Pa and Ma and Soup, is a saying concerning farmers\u2019\nchildren in the Midlands. In the words of an old North-country woman:\nT\u2019young \u2019uns dizn\u2019t talk noo leyke what they did when ah wer a lass;\nthere\u2019s ower mich o\u2019 this knackin\u2019 [affected talk] noo; bud, as ah\ntells \u2019em, fooaks spoils thersens sadly wi\u2019 knackin\u2019. An\u2019 then there\u2019s\nanother thing, when deean, they can mak nowt bud mashelshon [mixed\ncorn] on\u2019t. There is a very old proverb in Cheshire, applied to any\none who goes out of the country for improvement, and returns without\nhaving gained much; such a one is said to have \u2018been at London to learn\nto call a streea a straw\u2019. It is not often now that one could hear it\nsaid: Ah deean\u2019t gan bauboskin\u2019 [straying away] aboot leyke sum on\n\u2019em, ah sticks ti t\u2019heeaf. The place where a mountain or fell sheep is\nborn, and where it continues to live and pasture, is called its _heaf_,\nand the word is often in the Northern counties thus picturesquely used\nin a figurative sense. When one looks at the placards announcing in\nlarge letters the extraordinarily cheap day trips offered by the Great\nWestern or the Midland Railway, or sees hoardings decorated with garish\nposters portraying the arid sands and cloudless skies of Blackpool\nor Morecambe, how dim and distant seem those past days when in their\nstead he who runs might read an advertisement such as this: \u2018The York\nfour-days Stage Coach begins on Friday the 12th of April. All that are\ndesirous to pass from London to York, or from York to London, or any\nother place on that road, let them repair to the Black Swan in Holborn,\nor to the Black Swan in Conney Street in York, at both which places\nthey may be received in a Stage Coach every Monday, Wednesday, and\nFriday, which performs the whole journey in four days (if God permits),\nand sets forth at five in the morning.\u2019 Small wonder if people then\nstuck to their heaf, and dialects remained pure and unadulterated. But\neven to-day one can still find country places where our great cities\nare known only by name. The inhabitants may ask us casually: Hoo\u2019s\ntraade doon London waay?--but you feel, in so doing, they merely wish\nto make polite conversation. Two or three years ago we lunched at a\nsmall village inn not far from Skipton in Yorkshire, and before leaving\nthe landlord asked us to write our names in his visitors\u2019 book. When\nwe had finished, he read over the entry, and said, \u2018Ah, you come from\nOxford, perhaps you know London?\u2019 \u2018Oh, yes,\u2019 we said, \u2018we go to London\nsometimes.\u2019 \u2018Then you\u2019ll happen know my brother,\u2019 was the confident\nrejoinder. This last summer we stayed at a most primitive inn--with a\ncourtesy title of Hotel--on the moors under the shadow of Penyghent.\nThe landlord fetched us and our luggage from the station, and as he\nwas uncording a box of books he observed, \u2018You come from Oxford then.\u2019\n\u2018Yes,\u2019 said I, feeling proud of my connexion with that ancient Seat\nof Learning. \u2018Oh!\u2019 said mine host of the Golden Lion, \u2018How\u2019s hay down\nthere?\u2019\n\n[Sidenote: _The Yorkshire Bite_\n           _A Yorkshire Inn_]\n\nTo gain the full benefit and enjoyment of a sojourn in a country\nvillage, it is an immense advantage to be able to speak the dialect\nyourself, or at any rate to be able to understand and respect it.\nThat is why we prefer the West Riding of Yorkshire to any other\npart of England, for there we are at home with the native, and are\nnot looked upon as \u2018foreigners\u2019. The name Yorkshire has become a\nsynonym for acuteness not unmixed with a touch of unscrupulousness.\nIn Lincolnshire, for example, when anything is done which is very\nclever, sharp, or unscrupulous, they say: That\u2019s real Yerksheer. To put\nYorkshire on a person means in Lancashire to cheat, trick, or overreach\nhim; in Lancashire and Lincolnshire a sharp overreaching person is\ncalled a Yorkshire bite. Even in his own country the Yorkshireman has\nthis reputation. It was a native who told us the following story. Two\nYorkshiremen, whom we will call A. and B., were accustomed to send\ntheir horses to the same Show. A.\u2019s horse always won prizes, and B.\u2019s\nnever did. One day B. complained to A. \u2018I can\u2019t think why Mr. So-and-so\n(the judge) never gives me a First Prize; my horse is every bit as\ngood as yours.\u2019 \u2018Well,\u2019 said A., \u2018I tell you what you had better do\nbefore the next Show; you send Mr. So-and-so a good big ham.\u2019 The day\ncame, and this time it was B.\u2019s horse that won the First Prize. A. was\nboth angry and astonished. He went to B. and asked: \u2018Did you send that\nham?\u2019 \u2018Yes,\u2019 said B., \u2018but I sent it in your name, not mine.\u2019 Another\nYorkshireman on his death-bed found satisfaction in the thought that\nhe had outwitted an Insurance Company. \u2018Ah\u2019ve dun \u2019em, Joe, ah\u2019ve dun\n\u2019em. T\u2019doctor says ah\u2019m bahn [I am going] to dee, an\u2019 ah wor nobbud\ninsiured six munths sin,\u2019 he boasted to a sympathizing friend. It\nwould, however, be grossly unfair to judge the Yorkshireman on the\nstrength of this proverbial characteristic. He has very many other\nqualities equally characteristic and much more desirable, but which\nbecome famed in phrase and story only when found in an exaggerated\nform, as for instance the tenacity of purpose shown by that celebrated\n_Yorkshire Oddity_ William Sharp, popularly known as Old Three Laps,\nwho died in the year 1856. When a young man of thirty he became engaged\nto be married. The wedding-day was fixed, but when the appointed hour\ncame, only the bridegroom appeared in church. At the last moment the\nbride\u2019s father, dissatisfied about the marriage settlements, refused\nto allow his daughter to marry the man of her choice. The disappointed\nbridegroom returned to his home, went to bed, and vowed he would stay\nthere, and never speak again to any one. He kept his word up to the\ntime of his death, forty-nine years later, when he is said to have\nexclaimed shortly before his end, \u2018Poor Bill! poor Bill! poor Bill\nSharp!\u2019 A Yorkshireman has a very strong sense of his own dignity, and\nsome \u2018South-country\u2019 people mistake his attitude of independence for\nimpertinence, and because he will not brook a condescending manner or\na dictatorial speech, and because he says exactly what he means, they\nstyle him rude. Many stories are told of a certain grocer in Settle\nnoted for his treatment of impertinent customers. A lady one day walked\ninto his shop and inquired very abruptly: \u2018What are eggs to-day?\u2019\n\u2018Eggs,\u2019 was the prompt reply. At Kettlewell once a man and his wife,\nevidently on a cycling tour from \u2018down South\u2019, came into the inn, and\ndemanded tea in such peremptory tones, that the landlady turned her\nback on them, and we heard them muttering: \u2018She\u2019s bound to give us\nsomething.\u2019 If you want to be well served at a Yorkshire inn, the first\nthing to do is to take note of the name over the door before you cross\nthe threshold; then you can address the landlady as \u2018Mrs. Atkinson\u2019\n(pronounced _Atkisson_), for you will need her name constantly, if you\nwish your conversation to be agreeable to her. \u2018Down South\u2019 we are very\nchary in our use of proper names in conversation; we can talk to an\nacquaintance or a friend by the hour addressing him only as \u2018you\u2019. In\nthe North, we should intersperse our remarks freely with \u2018Mr. Brown\u2019 if\nhe is an acquaintance, or \u2018John\u2019 if he is a friend. It is a noticeable\nfact that in the North men call each other by their Christian names,\nwhere in the South they would use the surname without the formal Mr.\nBut to return to inns. Having duly passed the time of day with the\nlandlady, you will next have to converse with her serving-maid, whose\nname has yet to be discovered. We have adopted a plan of addressing\nher always as \u2018Mary\u2019, till she gives us better information. The last\ndamsel we thus met told us her name was Dinah, and further, that she\nwas \u2018a Lancashire lass\u2019. In Yorkshire if you ask a person his or her\nname you must say: \u2018What do they call you?\u2019 You might not be understood\nif you said: \u2018What is your name?\u2019 The first question in the Catechism\nhas often met with no response other than a vacant stare from children\nin Sunday Schools. A story is told of a clergyman near Whitby who went\none day into the village school, and seeing a new face among the boys,\nsaid: \u2018Well, my lad, and who are you?\u2019 Boy: \u2018Aw, ah\u2019s middlin\u2019; hoo\u2019s\nyoursen?\u2019\n\n[Sidenote: _Tea in the Parlour_]\n\nThe Kettlewell landlady was so charmed by our greeting, and our use\nof her name and her dialect, that on our very first visit she treated\nus to her old family silver tea-spoons, and on the next occasion we not\nonly had the tea-spoons, but we had a real old Queen Anne silver teapot\nas well, and a perfect feast of cakes, laid out in the private parlour\nwhere the foot of the tripper never trod. We came upon an inn full of\ntrippers once, and though we were shown to a seat at a table, we could\nget no further attention, for nobody seemed to have time to fetch us\nany lunch. At last we secured the ear of the daughter of the house,\nand we pleaded our cause in her native tongue, whereupon she quickly\nfetched her parents, and the table was laid, and spread with ample fare\nin the twinkling of an eye.\n\nIn a seventeenth-century Tract--_Of Recreations_--in which are put\nforth the delights of \u2018riding with a good horse and a good companion,\nin the spring or summer season, into the country\u2019, the author goes on\nto tell us: \u2018And if you happen, as often it falleth out, to converse\nwith countrymen of the place; you shall find them, for the most part,\nunderstanding enough to give you satisfaction: and sometimes country\nmaids and market wenches will give as unhappy answers as they be asked\nknavish and uncivil questions. Others there be, who, out of their\nrustical simplicity, will afford you matter of mirth, if you stay to\ntalk with them.\u2019\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER II\n\nRICH AND EXPRESSIVE VOCABULARY\n\n\nIt is generally supposed that the vocabulary of dialect-speaking\npeople is very small; indeed, it has been stated as a scientific fact\nthat the common rustic uses scarcely more than 300 words. The most\ncursory glance at the _English Dialect Dictionary_, however, will\nsuffice to convince anybody that this statement is incorrect. The\nsix volumes of this Dictionary contain in all over 5,000 pages, and\nthe number of simple and compound words in the first volume (A-C) is\n17,519; and from the careful statistics given of the contents of this\nvolume, it may safely be inferred that the whole Dictionary contains\nover 100,000 words.\n\nAs may be expected, we find in this vocabulary an immense variety of\nterms or phrases for expressing one and the same idea. For instance,\nthere are approximately 1,350 words meaning to give a person a\nthrashing, and an almost innumerable quantity meaning to die, and to get\ndrunk. There are some 1,300 ways of telling a person he is a fool. A few\nnames taken at random are: chuffin head, coof, gapus, gauvison,\ngoostrumnoodle, Jerry pattick, mee-maw, ning-nang, nornigig,\nrockey-codlin, Sammy-suck-egg, snool, stooky, Tom-coddy, yawney,\nyonnack. A fine cumulative effect is produced by a few introductory\nadjectives, with or without a final pronoun, in such personal remarks\nas: Thoo goffeny goavey, it\u2019s thoo at\u2019s daft Watty; You drumble-drone,\ndunder-headed slinpole; Thah gert, gawmless, sackless, headed fooil\nthah. There are about 1,050 terms for a slattern, such as: daffock,\ndawps, drazzle-drozzle, flammakin, hagmahush, lirrox, mad Moll o\u2019 the\nwoods, mawkin, moggy, rubbacrock, slammock or slommocks, trail-tengs,\ntrash-mire, wally-draigle.\n\n[Sidenote: _Names for the Smallest Pig_]\n\nAmong animals possessing a large variety of names the smallest pig of\na litter holds a very prominent place with over 120 titles to\ndistinction, such as: Anthony-pig, cadme, Daniel, dilling (a very old\nword for _darling_, occurring in Cotgrave\u2019s _Dictionary_ and Burton\u2019s\n_Anatomy of Melancholy_), greck, little Josey, Nicholas, nisgal,\npedman, ritling, runt, squab, treseltrype, wrenock. That handsome\nbird the hickwall, or green woodpecker, _Gecinus viridis_, figures\nunder almost every letter of the alphabet; whilst the sparrow and the\nstickleback also rank high on the list. Among flowers, the ox-eye\ndaisy and the foxglove have the largest number of different names.\nThe foxglove is called: fairy fingers, fairy glove, fairy petticoats,\nfairy thimbles, witches\u2019 thimbles, bloody man\u2019s fingers, dead man\u2019s\nbells, flop-a-dock, poppy-dock, pop-guns, &c., &c. One would fain find\nin Thormantle, or Thor\u2019s-mantle, a trace of ancient mythology, but the\nmost probable explanation of the term is that it is a corruption of\n_tormentil_ from _Potentilla Tormentilla_, a flower which shares with\nthe foxglove the name Thor\u2019s-mantle.\n\n[Sidenote: _Names for a Brook_]\n\nIt would be an interesting experiment to try and trace out\ngeographically the use of the various words denoting a stream of water:\nbeck, burn, dike, sike, strype, water, &c., &c. The _New English\nDictionary_ tells us that _beck_ is \u2018the ordinary name in those parts of\nEngland from Lincolnshire to Cumberland which were occupied by the Danes\nand Norwegians\u2019. Another authority, Mr. Oliver Heslop, says: \u2018This term,\nwhich is found in Danish and Norwegian settlements in England, occurs\nabout sixty-three times in the county of Durham. In Northumberland it is\nrepresented in the solitary case of the River Wansbeck, and in this it\nis questionable whether the second syllable is originally beck,\u2019 and\nfurther: \u2018The line dividing the more northern burn from the s.Dur. and\nYks. beck is a sharp one. It runs along the ridge between Wear and Tees\nfrom Burnhope Seat eastwards to Paw Law Pike. The tributaries to the\nWear, on the _n._ side of this ridge, are burns, and the similar\naffluents to the Tees, on its _s._ side, are becks.\u2019 In Kettlethorpe\nchurch, in Lincolnshire, is an epitaph on a former Rector of the parish,\nthe Rev. John Becke, who died in 1597:\n\n    I am a Becke, or river as you know,\n      And wat\u2019red here y\u1d49 Church, y\u1d49 schole, y\u1d49 pore,\n    While God did make my springes here for to flow;\n      But now my fountain stopt, it runs no more.\n\n_Beck_ is a Norse word, O.N. _bekkr_, a brook, occurring already in\nMiddle English, as, for instance, in Hampole\u2019s _Psalter_, c. 1330: \u2018Do\ntil thaim as till iabin in the bek of cyson,\u2019 Ps. lxxxii. 8. _Burn_ is\nan English word, O.E. _burna_, _burne_, a brook, and is found in Sc.\nIrel. Nhb. Dur. Cum. Yks. Stf. _Sike_ is also a native word, O.E. _s\u012bc_,\na watercourse, which comes down further south to Lei. and Nhp. _Strype_\nis a purely Scotch name. Jamieson thus defines it: \u2018A strype is\ndistinguished from a burn. The gradation seems to be: watter, a river;\nburn, a brook; burnie, a small brook; strype, a rill of the smallest\nkind.\u2019 Though a _water_ means a river in Scotland, in England it more\nusually denotes a smaller stream. The term is found in Dur. Yks. and\nLan., and is common in Som. and Dev. An amusing incident once occurred\nat a Village Penny Reading entertainment where one of the songs on the\nprogramme was the well-known ballad poem, _On the Banks of Allan Water_.\nThe pathetic notes of the last lines:\n\n    On the banks of Allan Water\n      There a corse lay she.\n\nhad hardly died away when the audience burst into a roar of laughter.\nThey had understood the climax to be some kind of practical joke played\nby the miller\u2019s daughter: \u2018There o\u2019 corse [of course] lay she!\u2019\n\n[Sidenote: _Names for a Girl_]\n\nAttempts have been made to show the geographical distribution of the\nwords for girl, or young woman. Ellis states it roughly thus: \u2018_mauther_\nin Norfolk, _maid_ in the South, _wench_ in no bad sense in the\nMidlands, and _lass_ generally in the North, _girl_,\u2019 he adds, \u2018is\nrather an educated word.\u2019 The word _mawther_ occurs in the _Promptorium\nParvulorum_ (circa 1440), the compiler of which was a Norfolk man. Sir\nThomas Browne (1605-82) mentions it as one of the words \u2018of common use\nin Norfolk, or peculiar to the East Angle countries\u2019. It occurs in Ben\nJonson\u2019s _Alchymist_, 1610; and Tusser, who was an Essex man, uses it\ntwo or three times in his _Fiue Hundred Pointes of Good Husbandrie_,\n1580:\n\n    No sooner a sowing, but out by and by,\n      with mother or boy that Alarum can cry:\n    And let them be armed with sling or with bowe,\n      to skare away piggen, the rooke and the crowe.\n\nThe word is used in Glo. Hrt. and Wil. besides East Anglia. At a trial\nonce in Norfolk the Judge inquired who could give evidence of what\nhad just been stated; the reply was: A mawther playing on a planchard\n[a girl playing on the floor]. The Judge, not being a native, was\ncompletely mystified. _Maid_ is the equivalent used in Dor. Som. Dev.\nCor. When a new baby arrives, the question as to its sex is always put\nthus: Is it a boy or a maid? A similar use is found in the Bible, cp.\n\u2018If she bear a maid child,\u2019 _Leviticus_ xii. 5. In the sense of young\nwoman, or girl, the word _maid_ occurs frequently in the Authorized\nVersion of the Bible, whereas the word _girl_ only occurs twice; e.g.\n\u2018The maid [Esther] was fair and beautiful,\u2019 _Esther_ ii. 7; \u2018Can a\nmaid forget her ornaments?\u2019 _Jeremiah_ ii. 32. The daughter of Jairus,\naged twelve, is in St. Matthew ix. 24 \u2018the maid\u2019, though in St. Mark\nshe is \u2018the damsel\u2019. Wyclif termed her \u2018the wenche\u2019, a term which\noccurs in the Authorized Version in 2 _Samuel_ xvii. 17, \u2018And a wench\nwent and told them.\u2019 In Yorkshire and Lancashire _wench_ is a term\nof endearment; in Cheshire it is simply the feminine of _lad_; in\nOxfordshire they summon cows with the cry: Come, wench, come, wench; in\nGloucestershire the well-known rhyme runs:\n\n    A wickering [giggling] wench and a crowing hen,\n    Is neither good to God nor men.\n\nIt is to Gloucestershire also that belongs the story of the local\npreacher who declaimed with terrific fervour: There you go, you chaps\nand wenches, head over heels to hell, like zhip [sheep] drow a glat [a\ngap in a hedge]. The North-country _lass_ may be of any age, though\ncommonly she is a young girl. The word is often used as a term of\naddress, e.g.\n\n    Owd lass, says I, tha\u2019rt heigh i\u2019 boan\n    An\u2019 rayther low i\u2019 beef.--_Natterin\u2019 Nan._\n\n[Sidenote: _The East Anglian Bor_]\n\nOne of the most comprehensive terms of familiar address is the East\nAnglian _bor_, applied to persons of either sex and of all ages, e.g.\nHullo, bor! where be you a\u2019goin? The plural is _together_, e.g. Well,\ntogether, how are ye all? _Bor_ is an old native word, O.E. _b\u016br_, which\nwe have in the literary language as the second element in _neighbour_.\nHow convenient it would be if we could adopt _bor_ into the upper\ncircles of the spoken language, for use at those awkward moments when,\nafter a lapse of years, we unexpectedly find ourselves face to face with\nan old acquaintance, whose name has slipped from our memories. How\nopenly cordial we could be, and at the same time so comfortably\nambiguous: And is it really you, bor? How glad I am to see you again!\nBut if we were to attempt to lay a plundering hand on the dialects with\nintent to enrich our standard speech by handy and convenient dialect\nwords, we should be embarrassed by the wealth before us. What literary\nword, for instance, conveys the full meaning of the common dialect term\n_feckless_ (Sc. Nhb. Dur. Cum. Wm. Yks. Lan. War.), the lineal\ndescendant of Shakespeare\u2019s _effectless_? It means: incapable,\nincompetent, without resource, shiftless, helpless, and a great deal\nmore besides, all in a handy nutshell. There are scores of adjectives,\nthe forceful individuality of which we instinctively feel, and yet find\nvery hard to convey in the terms of a verbal definition. We are driven\nto string together inadequate synonyms, or pile up pedantic phrases. _A\nfeckless body_ we define as: a person incapable of any effective effort;\n_waughy_ (n.Cy.), we say, is used in illness, nearly always during\nconvalescence, to express the feebleness, shakiness, and\nlight-headedness after confinement to bed. It also means weak in body,\nespecially when accompanied by a tendency to faint, e.g. I felt that\nwaffy, I should hev siled doon upo\u2019 th\u2019floor, if missis hedn\u2019t gen me\nsum brandy. _Chuff_ (n.Cy. n.Midl. Midl.) is proud, pleased, denoting a\ncombination of fussiness and serene self-satisfaction. We certainly have\nhere much meaning in little room, as Dr. Johnson found in the word\n_shrew_, which he defines as: \u2018A peevish, malignant, clamorous,\nspiteful, vexatious, turbulent woman.\u2019\n\n[Sidenote: _A gradely Lass_\n           _The Parson\u2019s Pig_]\n\nA few words such as _canny_, _dour_, _pawky_, have gained a recognized\nposition in the standard speech, through having been introduced by\neducated Scotchmen. Some of the meanings of _canny_ are expressed in\nthe adjective _gradely_, a word generally quoted as characteristic of\nthe Lancashire dialect, in the phrase _a gradely lass_. It belongs,\nhowever, also to Cum. Wm. Yks. Chs. Stf. Der. Shr. In origin it is\na form of _graithly_, a Scandinavian word, O.N. _grei\u00f0ligr_, ready,\nprompt, and it can mean: (1) respectable, honest, (2) handsome,\ncomely, (3) friendly, kind, (4) clever, (5) having full possession of\none\u2019s senses, (6) genuine, good, (7) considerable, big. A similarly\ncompact word in general dialect use throughout Scotland and England\nis _jannock_, or _jonnock_; like _gradely_, also of Scandinavian\norigin, cp. Norw. dial. _jamn_, even, level, of which _jannock_ is\napparently a derivative form. The commonest meaning is fair, honest,\nstraight-forward: Y\u00fc may trist she. I tellee \u2019er\u2019s jonnick t\u00fc tha\nback-bone (Dev.). Another attractive adjective in general dialect\nuse is _peart_, a delightful word, which positively sounds: brisk,\nlively, spirited, cheerful, in good health, sharp, and intelligent.\nIt has nothing to do with _pert_ either in form or meaning. It is\nused specially of persons just recovered from an illness, e.g. Pretty\npeart again now--but it may also be used of animals and plants. We\nmay remark: Them onions look peart, in contemplating the onion-bed.\nA common proverbial saying in Cheshire is: Poor and peart like the\nparson\u2019s pig, whereby hangs a tale. The proverb is traced back to\nthe days when the parson had to take some at least of his tithe in\nkind, when the pig reserved for him was wont to be a small and thin\none, and consequently specially brisk and active compared with the\npigs that went to market. More obvious similes are: as peart as a lop\n[flea]; as peart as a pyet [magpie]; as peart as a cock-robin; and\nwith a figurative touch: as peart as a spoon. Closely connected with\nthe literary _uncouth_, is the widespread dialect adjective _unkid_.\nIt looks at first sight like the poor relation from the country, clad\nin rough rustic garb, but as a matter of fact it is historically a\nperfectly correct form, cp. M.E. _unkid_, not made known, _-kid_ =\nO.E. _c\u0233\u00f0ed_, p.p. of _c\u0233\u00f0an_, to make known. Indeed our _uncouth_ is\nless regularly developed in pronunciation. _Unkid_ may be found in all\nthe dialects in England and Ireland, meaning: (1) strange, unusual;\n(2) untidy, e.g. The missis took a dill a paayns uv our Becca, but \u2019er\ncouldna larn \u2019er to be tidy. \u2019Er sims reg\u2019lar unkid, \u2019er do (Wor.); (3)\nuncanny, horrid; (4) lonely, depressed; (5) cross, sulky; (6) stormy;\n(7) of the weather: close, sultry. Some of the terms for describing\npersons of sullen, ill-tempered, or peevish dispositions are worth\nquoting: e.g. cappernishious, crumpsy, frabby, glumpy--If he\u2019s glumpy,\nlet him glump--muggaty, perjinkety, snippety. To address a cantankerous\nperson engaged in a quarrelsome discussion as \u2018You nasty brabagious\ncreature\u2019 must give the speaker a pleasant sense of having said the\nright thing at the right moment.\n\n[Sidenote: _An ugsome Sair_]\n\nOther very expressive adjectives are: _dowly_ (Sc. Nhb. Dur. Cum. Wm.\nYks. Lan. Lin.), lonely, melancholy; of places: retired, lonesome, e.g.\nA desput dowly, deeathly spot t\u2019won [live] in, an old word found in\nMiddle English, cp. \u2018He fell to \u00fee ground All dowly, for dole, in a dede\nswone,\u2019 _Destruction of Troy_, c. 1400; _gaumless_ (Yks. Nhb. Wm. Lan.),\nstupid, senseless, vacant, ignorant, without judgment, e.g. Well, if I\never did see annyb\u2019dy so gaumless! Seems as if yo\u2019d noo notion o\u2019 nowt,\ncp. O.N. _gaumr_, heed, attention; _perky_, sharp, saucy, impudent, e.g.\nSabina\u2019s Bill is perkier then ony uther lad as I iver clapt eyes on; I\nsent him wo\u2019d he wasn\u2019t to mislest that the\u00e4re maggit nest e\u2019 my\nplantin\u2019, an\u2019 I gets wo\u2019d back fra him as he\u2019d consither it, bud if I\u2019d\nsend him sixpence he was sewer he wodn\u2019t; _skiddley_ (Som.), small,\ndiminutive, used generally with little, to intensify or to add contempt,\ne.g. Her ax me nif I\u2019d like vor to take ort; an\u2019 I zaid, thanky mum,\ns\u2019I; an\u2019 then if her didn bring me out a little skiddley bit o\u2019 bird\u2019n\ncheese, \u2019bout \u2019nough to put in a rabin\u2019s eye; _ugsome_ (Sc. n.Cy.),\nfrightful, horrible, a derivative of O.N. _ugga_, to fear, e.g. a\nghastly wound is: an ugsome sair, and a savage bull may be said to have\n\u2018leuk\u2019t at us varry ugsomely\u2019; _wairsh_ (Sc. Irel. n.Cy. Midl. Dev.),\ntasteless, insipid, cp. \u2018A kiss and a drink of water is but a wersh\ndisjune,\u2019 Ramsay, _Proverbs_, 1737, and \u2018werysshe as meate that is nat\nwell tastye, _mal savour\u00e9_\u2019, Palsgrave, _Lesclarcissement de la langue\nfrancoyse_, 1530; _wambly_ (Sc. Lan. Wil. Dev. Cor.), insecure,\nunsteady.\n\n[Sidenote: _T\u2019onest Triuth_]\n\nSome forceful adjectives have resulted from the simple addition of an\nordinary suffix to an ordinary standard English word, e.g. _dateless_\n(Wm. Yks. Lan. Chs. Der. Lin.), stupified, foolish, disordered in mind,\nhaving the faculties failing through age, insensible, as from a blow,\nliterally, without a date, unconscious of time; _deedy_ (Sc. Yks. Midl.\nHmp. Sus. Wil. Dor.), full of activity, industrious, painstaking,\nearnest, e.g. a deedy body, a practical person, an industrious worker.\nIt was once a literary word, cp. \u2018In a messenger sent is required ...\nthat he be speedy, that he be heedy, and, as we say, that he be deedy,\u2019\nAdams, _Lycanthropy_, 1615; _eyeable_ (Chs. n.Midl. Midl. Cor.),\npleasing to the eye, sightly, as the man who was selling ready-made\nclothes in the market said of his stock-in-trade: There\u2019s a many things\nthat\u2019s eyeable, but isn\u2019t tryable, or buyable, but the\u00e4se things is\neyeable, an\u2019 tryable, an\u2019 buyable an\u2019 all; _hurryful_ (Shr.), quick,\nhasty, hurried, e.g. It inna the \u2019urriful sort o\u2019 folk as bringen the\nmost to pass, for they runnen about athout thar yed \u014f\u014fth \u2019em; _easyful_\n(w.Yks. Shr.), _knowful_ (Yks.), _yonderly_ (Lakel. Wm. Yks. Lan. Chs.),\nare good, homely substitutes for indolent, well-informed,\nabsent-minded, literary adjectives, which by comparison with the\ndialect ones sound prosaic and harsh. Indeed, _yonderly_ in particular,\nwhen applied to persons, is an untranslatable epithet, and yet one which\nexactly describes certain types of mind. It can also convey a sense of\nthe pathetic, e.g.\n\n    Then Nan lewkt at ma wi a lewk\n    Soa yonderly an\u2019 sad.--_Natterin\u2019 Nan._\n\n_Yonderish_ (Yks. Lan.), on the other hand, is not a friendly and gentle\nterm, it can be even abusive, when used in speaking to persons who think\nthemselves superior to other people, e.g. Theaw needsno\u2019 be so\nyonderish, theaw\u2019rt nowt \u2019at\u2019s owt [thou art nothing that is anything].\nVery expressive too are some of the participial adjectives, such as:\n_gaustering_ (Chs. War. Yks. Lan. Lei. Lin.), blustering, bumptious,\ne.g. Sike a braungin\u2019, gausterin\u2019 taistrill [such a swaggering,\nbumptious, good-for-nothing rascal]; _snazzling_ (Yks. of the wind or\nweather), cold, biting, bleak; to lead a _threppoing, pungowing_ life\n(Chs.) means the sort of life where it is hard to make both ends meet,\nwhen one is puzzled how to get on, a hand to mouth sort of existence;\nall _cottered_ into snocksnarls signifies in an entangled heap; a\n_oondermoinded_ nassty trick is a nicely explicit phrase; so is the\nsentence: I was so _cumpuffled_ I didn\u2019t know what I was about;\n_throssan-_, or _thrussen-up_ (Lakel. Cum. Wm. Yks. Lan.)--literally,\nthrust-up--means conceited, forward. A Yorkshire woman, when on a visit\nto her son in the South, was asked by a lady in rather a patronizing\nmanner, what she thought of South-country ladies. She replied: Wah, to\ntel ye t\u2019onist triuth, the\u2019r nowt bud stuk-up thrussen-up things wi\u2019\nnowt mich abaht \u2019em, the\u2019r all ahtside.\n\n[Sidenote: _Natterin\u2019 Nan_]\n\nIt is not easy to make a typical selection of what may be called\nexpressive words, partly because the choice is so very wide, and partly\nbecause one is apt to exaggerate the merits of words which appeal\nto one personally, and so one is not an impartial judge. There are\ncertain quaint dialect words which bring back to one\u2019s mind the days\nof one\u2019s childhood, the old family nurse, or the gardener who reigned\nsupreme in the garden of long ago, and so for old sake\u2019s sake these\nwords express more than meets the ear of a stranger. Here, however,\nis a sample of verbs of various kinds: _brevit_ (gen. use in Midl.\ncounties), to search, ransack, &c., as in the following account of\na visit to the dentist: Soo the doctor, a lukes at my tooth a bit,\nan\u2019 begins a-brevetin\u2019 abaout among his bench o\u2019 tules, an\u2019 a says,\ntell ye what Joo, a says, yo\u2019 mut grin an\u2019 aboide this turn. Soo ah\nsays, ah cain\u2019t grin if ye doon\u2019t lave me noo tooshes, ah says. Soo a\nsays, Ah, but yo\u2019 can Joo, a says, yo\u2019 can grin o\u2019 the wrong soide;\n_cabobble_ (e.An. Cor.), to mystify, puzzle, confuse, e.g. You wholly\ncabobble me; _chunner_ (Sc. Yks. Lan. Chs. Der. War. Shr.), to grumble,\nmutter, murmur. A clergyman, asking an infirm old woman how she was,\nreceived as an answer: I goes on chunner, chunner, chunner. Whereupon\nhe proceeded to give her a homily showing how wrong it was to be\ndiscontented, when he was stopped by the old woman: Bless you, Parson,\nit\u2019s not me that chunners, it\u2019s my innards! _Fratch_ (n.counties),\nto quarrel, dispute, as for example, when a loud noise of wrangling\nvoices is heard, some one may suggest that it is two women fratching,\nor forty men fighting; _glox_ (Hmp. Wil.), of liquids: to roll about,\nmake a gurgling sound when shaken inside a vessel; _goggaz_ (Chs.), to\nstare, e.g. What a\u2019t tha goggazin\u2019 at na\u00ef? Tha\u2019s noo moor manners aba\u00eft\nthee till if tha\u2019d bin born in a wood; _guggle_ (various dialects),\nto gurgle, make a bubbling sound, which looks at first sight like a\nmade-up word, but which was known to Cotgrave, and to Dr. Johnson,\nwho has: \u2018To _Guggle_. v.n. [_gorgoliare_, Italian] To sound as water\nrunning with intermissions out of a narrow mouthed vessel\u2019; _gnatter_,\n_natter_ (Sc. and n.counties), to grumble, complain, fret, e.g.\n_Natterin\u2019 Nan_, which is the title of the most famous of Ben Preston\u2019s\ndialect poems:\n\n    Bud t\u2019wahst o\u2019 fouts [faults] at I\u2019ve seen yet,\n      I\u2019 woman or i\u2019 man,\n    Is t\u2019weary, naagin\u2019, nengin\u2019 turn\n      At plaaged puir natterin\u2019 Nan.\n\n[Sidenote: _A local Dick_]\n\nCp. E. Fris. _gnattern_, murren, verdriesslich sein; _knacker_ (Glo.),\nof the teeth: to chatter. A local preacher--such as is termed in\nYorkshire \u2018a local Dick\u2019--was once preaching a sermon on the Last Day,\nin which he foretold the end of the sinners present in chapel: Every\nlimb of your bodies will shake like the leaves of an aspen tree, and\nyour teeth will knacker in your heads like frost-bitten mariners.\n_Maffle_, _moffle_ (Chs. Nhp.), to spend recklessly, squander, waste\nin trifles. In the accounts of a certain parish, where all the money\ncould not be accounted for, appeared this item: \u2018To moffled away \u00a340.\u2019\n_Maunder_ (gen. dial.), to talk idly and incoherently, to mumble;\n_mopple_ (Yks.), to confuse, puzzle. At a cottage prayer-meeting a\nMinister was, as it is called, \u2018engaged\u2019 in prayer, when he became\nannoyed by one of those present, who continually broke in with\nejaculations such as: Glory! Amen! Yus! &c. Suddenly the Minister\nstopped, tapped the disturber on the shoulder and said: Drop it, mun,\ntha mopples me. _Moither_ (gen. dial.), to confuse, perplex, bewilder,\ne.g. A wur that moithered, a didn\u2019 knoo wheer a was to a wik [week].\nMary Lamb\u2019s grandmother used to say to her: \u2018Polly, what are those poor\ncrazy moythered brains of yours thinking of always?\u2019 C. Lamb\u2019s letter\nto Coleridge, Oct. 17, 1796. _Nivel_ (Glo. Oxf.), to sneer, turn up the\nnose in disdain. A small boy in a Sunday School class, reading about\nDavid and Goliath, was asked what was meant by \u2018disdained\u2019 in \u2018when\nthe Philistine looked about, and saw David, he disdained him\u2019. Ans. He\nnivelled at un. Cp. Fr. Norm. dial. _nifler_, flairer avec bruit, en\nparlant d\u2019un chien. _Scrawk_ (Yks. Not. Lin. Nhp.), to scratch, mark,\ne.g. M\u2019m, me scrawk th\u2019 paaintins [painted woodwork of a room] M\u2019m! I\nknow my wark better; _scrouge_ (var. dial.), to squeeze, press, crowd,\ne.g. Now dwoan\u2019t \u2019ee come a scrougin\u2019 on I zo; _scrunge_ (n.Cy. Nhb.\nStf. Glo. Oxf. Hmp. I.W. Wil.), with the same meanings as _scrouge_,\ne.g. We were that scrunged, we couldn\u2019t move; _thrutch_ (Yks. Lan. Chs.\nDer.), to crowd, squeeze, huddle together, O.E. _\u00feryccan_, to press,\npush. A proverbial saying applied to any one who has a great deal to\nsay about the conduct or characters of other people and is not above\nsuspicion himself, runs: Where there\u2019s leeost reawm, there\u2019s moast\nthrutchin\u2019. But the classical illustration of the use of this word\ncomes in the story of Noah and the ancestor of the Lancashire folk.\nThis gentleman was swimming about in the Flood, and meeting the Ark,\nhe called out to Noah to take him aboard, which the latter declined to\ndo, on the grounds of lack of space, adding by way of apology: We\u2019re\nthrutched up wi\u2019 elephants. _Trapes_ (gen. dial.), to trudge, go on\nfoot, walk heavily or wearily, &c. An old woman on her death-bed was\nasked to take a message to a previously deceased person, when she\nretorted sharply: Di ya think ah sall he\u2019 nowt ti deeah i\u2019 heaven bud\ngan trapsin\u2019 aboot, latin\u2019 [searching] for hor? _Yammer_ (Sc. Irel.\nNhb. Lakel. Yks. Lan. Lin. War.), to lament, cry aloud fretfully, O.E.\n_g\u0113omrian_, to mourn, complain.\n\n[Sidenote: _All of a Goggle_]\n\nA good descriptive word, which might well be adopted into the\nstandard speech, is _fantigue_ (gen. dial.). To be in _a fine\nfantigue_ is to be in a state of fussy excitement, or a fit of ill\ntemper, usually without sufficient cause. Similarly, to be _all in a\nconfloption_ (e.An. Cor.) well conveys the idea of flurry, confusion;\nto be _all in a scrow_ (n.Cy.) is specially used of that annually\nrecurrent state of domestic disorder known as spring-cleaning; to be\n_all of a goggle_ (Glo. Hmp. I.W. Wil.) is to be trembling and shaking\nall over; to be _all of a jother_ (Yks.) is a parallel phrase. A stout\nold woman describing her first experience of a railway journey, said:\nAh\u2019ll niver gan in yan o\u2019 thae nasty vans nae mair. Ah trimmel\u2019d and\ndither\u2019d while [until] ah wur all iv a jother. _All of a quob_ (Wil.\nCor.) means in a heap. A Cornish woman describing the way railway\nporters take luggage out of a train said: They pitch it down all of\na quob. A preacher in a Lincolnshire chapel gave out as his text,\n\u2018Behold, the bridegroom cometh.\u2019 Just then a newly married couple\nwalked in, and the strangeness of the coincidence so upset the orator,\nthat he exclaimed: Mi brethren, I\u2019m clean blutterbunged. To be _in a\nwassle_ (Glo.) is to find oneself in a muddle, or fix, as the preacher\nsaid when he got lost in his discourse: My friends, you must excuse\nme, and sing a hymn, for I am in a regular wassle. To be gone _all to\nskubmaw_ is to be in a state of wreckage, broken in pieces. A Cornish\nminister is reported to have prayed: Lord! send down Thy mighty armour\nfrom above, and scat all our stony hearts to skoobmah.\n\n[Sidenote: _Appropriate-sounding Words_]\n\nThen there are numerous appropriate-sounding terms such as: _fiz-gig_\n(Yks. Der. Not. Lin. Nhp. War. I.W.), a disrespectful term for a girl or\nwoman fond of gadding about, cp. \u2018_Troti\u00e8re_, a raump, fisgig, fisking\nhuswife,\u2019 Cotgr.; _pelrollock_ (Shr.), an ill-dressed, worn-out looking\nwoman; _scallibrat_ (Yks.), a passionate, noisy child, a young vixen;\n_sledderkin_ (Cum.), a sauntering, slovenly person; _snapperdol_ (Lan.),\na gaily dressed woman. A simple onomatopoeic word for palpitation of the\nheart is _glopping_ (Lei.); such too is _pash_ (n.counties), for a\ndownpour of rain, e.g. Hout, tout! What\u2019s the gude of praying for\nmoderate rain and shooers? What we want is a gude even-doon pash! But\nthe name of this type of word is legion, and to illustrate it at all\nadequately would require the scope of a dictionary.\n\n[Sidenote: _Homespun Compounds_]\n\nIn the days of King Alfred, and of \u00c6lfric, the Abbot of Eynsham,\nliterary English possessed numbers of good, home-grown, compound words,\nwhich have since been lost, and replaced by some more learned or diffuse\nsubstitute. People said then: _book-craft_ for literature; _star-craft_\nfor astronomy; _father-slayer_ for parricide; _deed-beginner_ for\nperpetrator of crime; _together-speech_ for colloquy; _old-speech_ for\ntradition; _well-willing_ for benevolent, O.E. _b\u014dc-cr\u00e6ft_,\n_tungol-cr\u00e6ft_, _f\u00e6der-slaga_, _d\u01e3d-fruma_, _samod-spr\u01e3c_,\n_eald-spr\u01e3c_, _welt-willende_. Sometimes again we have replaced the old\ncompound by a more concise but less picturesque synonym. For\n_lore-house_ we say school; for _dim-house_, prison; for _again-coming_,\nreturn, O.E. _l\u0101r-h\u016bs_, _dim-h\u016bs_, _eft-cyme_. In the spoken dialects we\nhave the natural development of a living tongue, practically untouched\nby what are called the learned influences; hence, where in the literary\nlanguage we should use a word of Latin origin, we frequently find a\nhomespun compound used by dialect-speakers. We shall see in a later\nchapter to what a large extent these compounds are figurative and\nmetaphorical; the few here quoted belong only to the simplest type:\n_beet-need_ (n.Cy. Yks. Lan.), a person or thing that helps in an\nemergency, cp. O.E. _b\u0113tan_, to improve; _cap-river_, a termagant;\n_cover-slut_ (Lei. Nhp. War. Shr.), a long apron used to hide an untidy\ndress; _has-been_ (Sc. n.Cy. Lakel. Yks. Chs. Lin. War. Shr.), a person,\nanimal, or thing, formerly serviceable but now past its prime, as the\nold Lincolnshire man said: It stan\u2019s to reason at yung college-gentlemen\nlike you knaws a vast sight moore then a worn-oot hes-been like me, bud\nyou we\u00e4nt better God Almighty an\u2019 ten commandments e\u2019 my time, an\u2019 so\u00e4\nI\u2019ll just stick to \u2019em while I\u2019m happ\u2019d up [till I am buried];\n_he-said_, or _he-say_ (Wm. w.Yks.), a rumour; _never-sweat_ (Yks. Rdn.\nOxf.), an idle lazy fellow; _rip-stitch_ (Lakel. Yks. Lan.), a romping\nboisterous child, e.g. What a rip-stitch that lad is! If aw send him out\ni\u2019 th\u2019mornin\u2019 wi\u2019 his things o\u2019 reet an\u2019 tidy, he\u2019ll come back at neet\nlike a scarecrow; _rogues-agreed_ (Som.), confederates, e.g. They\npurtend avore the justices how they \u2019adn never a-zeed wan t\u2019other avore,\nbut lor! anybody could zee they was rogues-agreed; _good-doing_ (e.An.),\ncharitable; _penny-tight_ (Lin.), short of money; _uptake_ (Sc. n.Cy.\nNhb. Cum.), intelligence, comprehension, generally in the phrase _in_ or\n_at the uptake_, e.g. He\u2019s gleg i\u2019 the uptak [quick in understanding].\n\n[Sidenote: _Some fine shades of Meaning_]\n\nFine shades of meaning are often expressed in the dialects by some\nslight variation in pronunciation which to our ears might sound purely\narbitrary or accidental, and also by the distinctive use of one or other\nof two words which from a dictionary point of view are synonymous. For\nexample, _drodge_ and _drudge_ both mean a person who works hard, but\nthe difference is this: a _drudge_ is always kept working by a superior,\na _drodge_ is always working because she cannot get forward with her\nwork; the word _drodge_ implies blame, and _drudge_ none. _Geeble_ (_g_\nsoft), _gibble_ (_g_ soft), _jabble_ (Bnff.), signify a quantity of\nliquid. The word _geeble_ contains the notion of contempt and\ndissatisfaction. When there is a small quantity and greater contempt and\ndissatisfaction indicated, _gibble_ is used, and when a larger quantity,\n_jabble_ is used. _Muxy_ and _puxy_ (Som.) mean miry, but a _muxy_ lane\nwould be merely a muddy lane, whereas a _puxy_ lane would be at least\nankle-deep in mud; _steal_ and _slance_ (Lan. Chs.) mean thieve. A boy\nmay take a piece of pie from his mother\u2019s larder, and he will have\n_slanst_ it, but if he did the same thing from his neighbour\u2019s place he\nwould have _stolen_ it. Words like this would never be confused by\npeople accustomed to use them in everyday life.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER III\n\nSPECIMENS OF DIALECT\n\n\n[Sidenote: _Difficulties of the Vernacular_]\n\nOur difficulty in understanding the vernacular of a dialect-speaker\narises in great measure from the fact that many of the sounds being\nunfamiliar to us, we cannot tell which syllable belongs to which word,\nand so we cannot rightly divide up the sentence into its component\nparts. This would of course be much more easily done if we could at once\nwrite down on paper what we have heard, and then stake it off in\nsections, like the cryptic word which the Kentish woman wrote to the\nvillage schoolmaster, to explain the absence of her boy from school:\nkeptatometugoataturin, which became quite clear when divided up thus:\nkept-at-ome-tu-go-a-taturin, that is, kept at home to go\na-harvesting-potatoes. For instance, what sounds like _oogerum_ (Yks.)\nstands for a whole sentence: _hug her them_, that is, carry them for\nher. The sentence always quoted as the classic puzzle of this type is:\n_ezonionye-onionye_, which being interpreted means: have any of you any\non you? Another catch specimen of Yorkshire dialect is _t\u2019weet maks\u2019m\npike\u2019m_, the wet makes them pick themselves, used of fowls cleaning\nthemselves after rain. Then further, many of the commonest words have by\nthe unhindered action of the laws of living speech become so worn down,\nthat we hardly recognize them in this their dialect form, though we are\nusing them every day ourselves in the standard language. Take for\nexample such a sentence as: I shall have it in the morning, which has\nbeen pared down to: as-et-it-morn (Yks.). Our forefathers a thousand\nyears ago would have said: _Ic sceal hit habban on \u00f0\u01e3m morgne_, every\nsingle word of which remains firm and intelligible in its skeleton shape\nof: as [I shall]-et [have it]-it [in the]-morn. Add to this an enormous\nvocabulary of words non-existent in literary English, it is no wonder if\nsometimes the accents of a country rustic sound in our ears like an\nunknown tongue. A story is told of a Yorkshireman who went into a store\nof general wares in London and asked: What diz ta keep here? Ans. Oh,\neverything. Yorkshireman: Ah deean\u2019t think thoo diz. Hesta onny coo-tah\nnobs [pieces of wood that secure the tie for the legs of cows when being\nmilked]?--a question which reduced the cockney salesman to a state of\nhelpless amazement.\n\n[Sidenote: _Specimens from various Dialects_\n           _Dialect in the Witness-box_\n           _Dialect in the Sunday School_]\n\nBut to illustrate more fully what has been stated above, I will here\ngive some specimens culled promiscuously from various dialects: cost\ndibble tates? (Chs.), can you set potatoes; hoore\u2019s his heeaf-hod?\n(n.Yks.), where is his home?; hod thi clack (e.Yks.), be silent; till\nthe want-snap (Som.), set the mole-trap; t\u2019deear beeals oot on t\u2019jimmer\n(Yks.), the door creaks on the hinge; us lads wur shollin\u2019 doon a stie\n(n.Yks.), we boys were sliding down a ladder; what have you got there?\nAns. Nobbut a whiskettle o\u2019 wick snigs (Chs.), only a basketful of live\neels; t\u2019titter oop t\u2019sprunt mun ower a bit (n.Yks.), the one soonest up\nthe hill must wait awhile; thoo mun think ma on ti remmon it (Yks.),\nyou must remind me to remove it; tak the sharevil an\u2019 the kipe, an\u2019 goo\nan\u2019 get up some o\u2019 them frum tatoes out o\u2019 the slang (Shr.), take the\ngarden fork and the wicker measure, and go and get up some of those\nearly potatoes out of the narrow strip of ground; whot ail\u2019th\u2019n? Aw,\nthey zeth he\u2019th got a pinswill in \u2019is niddick (Dev.), a boil on the\nback of his neck; gan through the yet, an swin the field wi\u2019the beass\nin\u2019t (Nhb.), go through the gate and traverse diagonally the field with\nthe cattle in it; you needna be afeard o\u2019 gwe\u00efn through the leasow,\nthey\u2019n mogged the cow as \u2019iled poor owd Betty Mathus (Shr.), you need\nnot be afraid of going through the meadow, they have moved to another\npasture the cow that gored poor old Betty Matthews; they war fearful\nfain to pike amang t\u2019shrogs some shoups, bummelkites, and hindberries\n(w.Yks.), they were very glad to glean among the bushes some dog-rose\nhips, blackberries, and wild raspberries; an\u2019 the leet windle ne\u2019er\nblubbereth or weeneth, but look\u2019th pithest and sif\u2019th (Dev.), and the\nlittle delicate child never cries or whimpers, but looks piteous and\nsighs; ae\u2019s pinikin, palchy, an\u2019 totelin, ae\u2019s clicky an\u2019 cloppy, an\u2019\na kiddles an\u2019 quaddles oal day (Cor.), he is ailing, delicate, and\nimbecile from old age, he is left-handed and lame, and he potters about\nand grumbles all day; shoe maddles an taums ower in a sweb (w.Yks.),\nshe talks incoherently, and from weakness falls down in a swoon; she\nshruk so wonnerful that I fared hully stammed (Ess.), she shrieked so\nstrangely, that I was wholly overcome with amazement; it\u2019s a soamy\nneet, ah\u2019s ommast mafted (Yks.), it\u2019s an oppressive night, I am almost\noverpowered by the great heat; when t\u2019 bent\u2019s snod, hask, cranchin an\u2019\nslaap, it\u2019s a strang sign of a pash (w.Yks.), when the coarse moorland\ngrass is smooth, brittle, crackling under the foot and slippery, it\u2019s a\nstrong sign of a sudden downpour of rain; it snew, an\u2019 it stoured, an\u2019\nit warn\u2019t while efter dark at ah wossel\u2019d thruff an\u2019 wan yamm (n.Yks.),\nit snowed, and the wind was driving the snow in gusts, and it was not\ntill after dark that I had battled through and reached home; does it\never rain here? Ans. Why, it donks an\u2019 dozzles an\u2019 does, an\u2019 sumtimes\ngi\u2019s a bit of a snifter, but it never cums iv any girt pell (Cum.), it\ndrizzles and rains slightly, and is misty, and sometimes there is a\nslight shower, but it never comes with any great downpour of rain; a\ncam doon wee a dousht an\u2019 a pardoos, an sair did it rackle up ma banes,\nit wiz nae jeesty job (Bnff.), I fell with a sudden fall, striking the\nground with great violence, and sorely did it shake my bones, it was\nno jesting matter; hee\u2019s waxen a gay leathe-wake, fendible, whelkin,\nhaspenald-tike (Yks.), he has grown a fine supple, hard-working, big,\nyouth; I is to gie notidge at Joanie Pickergill yeats yown t\u2019neet,\nt\u2019moorn at moorn, an\u2019 t\u2019moorn at neet, an\u2019 neea langer as lang\u2019s storm\nhods, cause he c\u2019n get na mair eldin (n.Yks.), I am to give notice that\nJ. P. heats his oven to-night, and to-morrow, morning and night, and\nno longer as long as the snow lasts, because he can get no more fuel;\ntendar! tendar! [guard] stop the injun, left ma boondle on the planchen\n[platform] (Cor.). An old man having an order for some gravel was\nasked whether it was ready. He replied: Naw, Sur, but we\u2019ve a got un\nin coose, we must buck [break] et, an\u2019 cob [bruise into small pieces]\net, an\u2019 spal [break into yet smaller pieces] et, an\u2019 griddle [riddle]\net twice, an\u2019 then et\u2019ll be fitty (Cor.). A Cornish girl applying for\na housemaid\u2019s situation was asked: What can you do? Ans. I can louster\nand fouster, but I caan\u2019t tiddly; I can do the heavy work, and work\nhard at it, but I can\u2019t do the lighter housework. Sometimes a request\nfor an interpretation of mysterious words only draws forth more of the\nsame nature, for instance: Mester, that back kitchen\u2019s welly snying\n[swarming] wi\u2019 twitch-clogs. What do you mean by twitch-clogs, Mary?\nWhoi, black-jacks (Chs.). But \u2018Mester\u2019 was still in blissful ignorance\nof the presence of black-beetles in his back kitchen. The following\nconversation is reported from Somersetshire: I wish you would tell me\nwhere you get your rennet. Why, I buys a vell and zalts\u2019n in. A vell!\nwhatever is that? Don\u2019ee know hot a vell is? Why a pook, be sure! Dear\nme, I never heard of that either; what can it be? Zome vokes call\u2019n\na mugget. I really cannot understand you. Lor, mum! wherever was you\na-brought up to? Well, to be sure! I s\u2019pose you\u2019ve a-zeed a calve by\nyour time? Of course I know that. Well then, th\u2019 urnet\u2019s a-tookt out\nof the vell o\u2019 un. Some one who had never heard the word _gouty_ as\nused in Cheshire to mean wet, spongy, boggy, asked: What is a gouty\nplace? Ans. A wobby place. What\u2019s a wobby place? A mizzick. What\u2019s a\nmizzick? A murgin. A judge at the Exeter assizes asked a witness: What\ndid you see? Witness: A did\u2019n zee nort vur the pillem. Judge: What\u2019s\npillem? Witness: Not knaw what\u2019s pillem? Why, pillem be mux a-drowed.\nJudge: Mux! What\u2019s mux? Witness: Why mux be pillem a-wat [mud is wet\ndust]. An assault case came before a magistrate in a Yorkshire Police\nCourt. Magistrate--to plaintiff: Well, my good woman, what did she do?\nPlaintiff: Deeah? Why, sha clooted mi heead, rove mi cap, lugged mi\nhair, dhragged ma doon, an\u2019 buncht ma when ah was doon. Magistrate--to\nclerk: What did she say? Clerk (slowly and decisively): She says the\ndefendant clooted her heead, rove her cap, lugged her hair, dhragged\nher doon, an\u2019 buncht her when sha was doon. Sometimes the inability\nto comprehend is on the side of the country rustic. At a school in\nWensleydale a South-country inspector, examining a class on the Bible,\nsaid: Neow tell me something abeout Mouses. Cats kill \u2019em, was the\nprompt rejoinder. A lady reading _Exodus_ ix. 3, \u2018There shall be a\nvery grievous murrain,\u2019 to a Sunday School class of Cornish children,\nwas puzzled by the seemingly irrelevant comment made by one of her\nscholars: Ants is awful things, aint \u2019em? Afterwards she discovered\nthat an ant in Cornwall is called a _muryan_. A similar story comes\nfrom Sussex. A lady who had been giving a lesson on Pharaoh\u2019s dreams\nwas startled to find that all the boys supposed that the fat and lean\nkine were weasels. In Surrey, Kent, and Sussex a weasel is called a\n_kine_, or _keen_. An old labourer reading the _Book of Genesis_ came\nto this verse: \u2018And Israel said, It is enough; Joseph my son is yet\nalive: I will go and see him before I die\u2019 (chap. xlv. 28). There\u2019s a\nhatch zomewhere in this story, vor however could wold Jacob zee hes\nzon Joseph if hee\u2019d ben yet alive? If he\u2019d ben _yet_ up alive, or\ndead, how could there be any of \u2019en left vor his father to zee? That\u2019s\nwhat I wants to know (I.W.). It must have been a more highly educated\nperson who understood the coroner\u2019s question: Did you take any steps to\nresuscitate the deceased? Ans. Yes, sor, we riped [rifled] \u2019ees pockets\n(Nhb.). An old woman once asked a neighbour the meaning of the word\nJubilee. Ans. Why, \u2019tes like this, if yiew an\u2019 yieur auld man \u2019ave ben\nmarrid fifty years, \u2019tes a Golden Wedden\u2019, but if the Lord \u2019ave took\nun, \u2019tes a Jewbilee. A local preacher expounding the Bible to a rural\ncongregation in North Yorkshire told his hearers that the \u2018ram caught\nin a thicket\u2019, _Genesis_ xxii. 13, meant: an aud teeap cowt iv a brier.\n\n[Sidenote: _The Dame\u2019s School_]\n\nThe quaintly-worded command, Ye mun begin an\u2019 aikle nai (Chs.), has\nmore significance than meets the eye of those who read it now, for it\nrecords a faint echo from the times of that ancient institution once\ncommon to every village, but now obsolete, namely, the Dame\u2019s School,\nthe theme of Shenstone\u2019s poem, _The School-Mistress_ (1742), wherein\nhe sought to imitate the \u2018peculiar tenderness of sentiment remarkable\nthroughout\u2019 the works of Spenser:\n\n    In ev\u2019ry village mark\u2019d with little spire,\n    Embow\u2019r\u2019d in trees, and hardly known to fame,\n    There dwells, in lowly shed, and mean attire,\n    A matron old, whom we school-mistress name;\n    Who boasts unruly brats with birch to tame.\n\nThe \u2018Ye mun begin an\u2019 aikle nai\u2019 [you must begin and get dressed for\ngoing now] was the signal given by an old dame who kept a school near\nWrenbury to her \u2018little bench of heedless bishops\u2019 that lessons were\nover for the day.\n\n    But now Dan Phoebus gains the middle skie,\n    And liberty unbars her prison-door;\n    And like a rushing torrent out they fly,\n    And now the grassy cirque han cover\u2019d o\u2019er\n    With boist\u2019rous revel-rout and wild uproar.\n\n[Sidenote:_An old Village Dame_]\n\nShenstone\u2019s old dame kept a \u2018birchen tree\u2019 from which she cut her\n\u2018scepter\u2019; he does not mention the other weapon of torture wielded by\nthese female tyrants, which was the thimble. The poor children were\nrapped on the head with a thimbled finger, and the operation was known\nas _thimble-pie_ making. The old dame that I remember, who must have\nbeen one of the last of all her race, was of milder mood than these.\nHer name was Mrs. Price, and she dwelt in a remote and picturesque\ncorner of Herefordshire called Tedstone Delamere. I cannot call it a\nvillage, or even a hamlet, for the houses were so very few and far\nbetween. Mrs. Price\u2019s scholars were mere baby creatures, old enough to\nrun about and get into mischief, or court danger, and yet too young to\nbe sent to the parish school with their bigger brothers and sisters. So\nbusy mothers were glad to pay a trifling sum to have these little ones\ntended by a motherly old widow-woman for a few hours every morning. But\nthe time came when age and infirmity debarred her from even this light\ntask, and her cottage no longer resounded with those noises which \u2018Do\nlearning\u2019s little tenement betray\u2019. I found her one day sitting all\nalone with an open Bible on the table beside her, and her spectacles\nlying idle in her lap. She looked tired and dispirited, and said her\neyes were so bad that she had been obliged to stop reading, and sit\ndoing nothing. Naturally I offered to read aloud to her awhile, and I\ninquired what had been engaging her attention. \u2018Oh,\u2019 said she, \u2018I\u2019d\njust got to where the frogs came up upon Pharaoh.\u2019 I took the book, and\nread on and on, for each time I came to \u2018the Lord hardened Pharaoh\u2019s\nheart\u2019, the aged Mrs. Price evinced such satisfaction over the prospect\nof yet another Plague, that I had not the heart to cut a long story\nshort. At last when Pharaoh had finally bidden the Israelites \u2018be\ngone\u2019, I closed the Bible, and as I did so, the old lady exclaimed,\n\u2018Ain\u2019t that nice readin\u2019!\u2019 One would not have thought that the history\nof the seven Plagues of Egypt was exactly the portion of Scripture best\nfitted to cheer and comfort a lone and feeble old woman. Perhaps it\nstirred old fires in her blood, rekindling memories of the days when\nchildren deemed her \u2018the greatest wight on ground\u2019, when she held the\nreins of power, distributing rewards and punishments as the honoured\nhead of a Dame\u2019s School.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER IV\n\nCORRUPTIONS AND POPULAR ETYMOLOGIES\n\n\nIf we are to avoid on the one hand the danger of regarding a dialect\nas nothing better than a wilful perversion of standard English, we\nyet must not allow ourselves to be beguiled by the smooth-running\ncourse of true sound-laws, or the rural charm of quaint words, into\nthe opposite error of supposing that irregularities and distortions do\nnot exist. There are in the dialects numbers of words which can only\nbe regarded as corruptions and mispronunciations of literary English,\nbut considered relatively to the whole vocabulary the proportion of\nthem is very small. Many even of the most obvious are not without a\ncertain interest as examples of popular etymology, or of practical\nword-formation, as, for instance, when smother and suffocate are\nblended into the useful word _smothercate_ (Not.), or bold and\naudacious into _boldacious_ (Der. Cor.). Some apparent corruptions are\nin reality old forms which can be found in the literary language in the\nearlier stages of its existence. For example: _abuseful_ (Yks. Lin.\nWar. Shr. Hrf. Glo.) for abusive is not uncommon in seventeenth-century\nliterature, though it must have died out later, as it is not noted\nby lexicographers such as Bailey and Johnson. The word _fancical_\n(gen. dial.) for fanciful occurs in 1676 in a work entitled _Musick\u2019s\nMonument_, by Mace. _Druggister_ (Yks. Lin. Pem. e.An. Som. Cor.)\nfor druggist is registered in Sherwood\u2019s _Dictionary_ (1672), \u2018A\ndruggister, _drogueur_.\u2019\n\nOr again, the dialect form may not be directly taken from the\nstandard language, but may be traced back through some other linguistic\nchannel which has influenced its development, e.g. _angish_ (Irel.)\nis not a mispronunciation of anguish, but it is developed from the\nGaelic form _aingis_. _Squinacy_ (Sc. Irel.), and _squinancy_ in the\ncompound _squinancy-berry_ (Cum. Lan. Ess.), the black currant, are not\ncorruptions of quinsy, but are from O.French _squinancie_, quinsy. But\nI shall reserve the treatment of historical forms such as these for a\nlater chapter.\n\n[Sidenote: _Latin Phrases taken into the Dialects_]\n\nA few Latin phrases have made their way into the dialects, where they\nhave assumed curious forms and meanings. For example: _hizy-prizy_ (Nhb.\nYks. Chs. Der. Som. Dev.), a corruption of _Nisi prius_, a law-term. It\nis used to signify any kind of chicanery or sharp practice, or, used as\nan adjective, it means litigious, tricky; and in the phrase _to be at\nhizy-prizy_, it means to be quarrelsome, disagreeable. The plural form\n_momenty-morries_ (Nhb.), skeletons, stands for _memento mori_, remember\nthat thou must die, the name given to a small decorative object\ncontaining a skeleton or other emblem of death, cp. \u2018I make as good use\nof it as many a man doth of a Death\u2019s-head or a memento mori,\u2019 _1 Hen.\nIV_, III. iii. 35. The Latin _nolens volens_ appears as _nolus-bolus_\n(Wil.), _nolum-wolum_ (Wil. Dev.), _hoylens-voylens_, _oilins-boilins_\n(Cum.). A mother sending off an unwilling child to school will say:\nOilins-boilins, but thee shall go. _Nominy_ (Nhb. Dur. Yks. Lan. Chs.\nDer. Nhp.) represents the Latin _nomine_ in the formula _In Nomine\nPatris_, &c., the invocation used by the preacher before the sermon. It\nmeans: (1) a rigmarole, a long rambling tale, a wordy, tiresome speech;\n(2) a rhyming formula or folk-rhyme. A knitting nominy used by girls in\nNorthamptonshire is as follows:\n\n    Needle to needle, and stitch to stitch,\n    Pull the old woman out of the ditch.\n    If you ain\u2019t out by the time I\u2019m in,\n    I\u2019ll rap your knuckles with my knitting-pin.\n\n_Paddy-noddy_, or _Parinody_ (Yks. Lin.), a long tedious rigmarole, a\ncock and bull story, is a corruption of _Pater noster_. The form\n_non-plush_ (many dials.), a nonplus, dilemma, surprise, usually occurs\nin the phrase: _at_, or _on a non-plush_, e.g. I was taken all on a\nnon-plutch. _Vady_ (Sus. Dev.) is a shortened form of _vade mecum_, used\nto denote a small leather cylinder, containing change of raiment, and\nother small comforts of the traveller.\n\nThe French _rendezvous_ appears as _randivoo_, _randivoose_\n(Dev. Cor.), _randybow_ (Nhb. Chs. Dev.), _rangevouge_ (Cor.), meaning\na noise, an uproar, but the literary sense remains in the verb\n_rumsey-voosey_ (Wil.), e.g. He went a rumsey-voosing down the lane to\nmeet his sweetheart.\n\n[Sidenote: _Corruptions and Mispronunciations_]\n\n_Jommetry_ is interesting for the sake of its meaning. It is used in\nGloucestershire in the sense of magic; anything supported in a\nmysterious and unknown manner might be said to hang _by jommetry_; the\nphrase _all of a jommetry_ means in pieces or tatters. _Lattiprack_\n(Wil.) for paralytic is a strange distortion. _Hapsherrapsher_ (Cum.\nLakel.) for haphazard is equally unreasonable, but agreeable withal.\nForms like _solintary_ (Nrf.) for solitary, _skelington_ or _skelinton_\n(Yks. Lan. Stf. War. Wor. Shr. Glo. w.Cy. Dor.) for skeleton, have\nacquired an intrusive _n_ in common with many words in the literary\nlanguage, as messenger, scavenger, &c. _Skelet_ (Sc. Lin. Cor.) is not a\ncorruption, but a pure French form, cp. \u2018_Scelete_, a skeleton,\u2019\nCotgrave. Pronunciations such as: _chimbly_ (var. dials.) for chimney;\n_singify_ (Yks. Lan. Der. Brks. e.An. Hmp. I.W.) for signify; _synnable_\n(Yks. Lan. Chs. Stf. Shr. Suf. Ken.) for syllable; _ulster_ (Cor.) for\nulcer; _pumptial_ (Not. Rut. Lei. Shr. Som.) for punctual; _turmit_ or\n_turmut_ (gen. dial.) for turnip, can all be accounted for phonetically.\n_Hantle_ (Sc. Irel. and n. counties to War. Wor. Shr.) is a perfectly\nlegitimate contraction of handful, but besides the ordinary meaning, it\ncan also denote a large quantity. A story is told of a Scotch minister\nwho alluded in his sermon to the fact that a number of his flock had\njoined the Baptists, thus: I thocht till ha\u2019e gethered ye under my\nwings, as a hen gethereth her chickens, but a hantle o\u2019 ye ha\u2019e turn\u2019t\noot to be deuks, an\u2019 ta\u2019en to the water.\n\n[Sidenote: _A \u2018nice Derangement of Epitaphs\u2019_]\n\nOccasionally one literary word is mistaken for another, and adopted\nin its place, as, for instance, _information_ (Lin. Sus. Som. Dev.)\nused for inflammation; _sentiment_ (Lin. Nrf.) for sediment. A farmer\nhaving been asked if he would clean out a pond, replied: No, sir, I\ncan\u2019t undertake the job; there\u2019s a sight of sentiment in that there\npit. _Profligate_ (Shr. Dev.) for prolific is a surprising change of\nadjective, especially when applied to the guileless and innocent. I\nremember my old nurse, when she took to minding chickens because we had\noutgrown the need of her daily ministrations, telling me that she had\ncollected a \u2018sitting\u2019 of a certain kind of eggs, because she thought it\nwould produce \u2018a profligate hatch\u2019. This is paralleled by the use of\n_reprobate_ for probationer. The Vicar\u2019s daughter asked a young girl\nif she had joined the parochial Guild. The reply was: Oh, yes, Miss!\nLast week I were took in as a reprobate (Lin.). A youth writing home\nfrom Canada to his father the village blacksmith, in describing the\nCoronation festivities in the city where he dwelt, wrote: The soldiers\nfired three volumes. A rheumatic old woman, who had been taken with\nseveral others for an excursion on a very hot day, said to me: Have you\nheard what a very nice exertion we had yesterday? Quite recently too,\nI was told of a man who had been \u2018crossed in love\u2019 in his youth, that\nhe had been a woman-atheist ever since. One is constantly reminded of\nMrs. Malaprop and her \u2018nice derangement of epitaphs\u2019. _Unction_ (Sc.)\nfor auction, with its derivative unctioneer, is probably a phonetic\nchange; and the same may be said of _ivory_ (Irel. Not. Lin. Rut. Hrt.\ne.An.) for ivy. The use of _persecute_ for prosecute may be merely\nthe result of confusion of prefixes, as in: discommode, dismolish,\nmislest, perdigious, preverse. The use of the native prefix _un-_ where\nthe standard language has _im-_, _in-_, &c., is very frequent. For\ninstance, _unpossible_ occurs in all the dialects in Scotland, Ireland,\nand England. Other examples are: undecent (many dials.), unlegal\n(Yks. Midl. War. Hrf.), unregular (many dials.), unsensible (Sc. Dur.\nYks. War. Sur.), unpatient (Sc. Dur. Lan.), unpeaceable (Yks. Som.),\nunperfect (n.Cy. Yks. Lan. Som.), unpassable (Sc. Yks. Som.). The three\nlast were once good literary forms, and may be found with quotations\nfrom learned authors in Johnson\u2019s _Dictionary_. Beside _unconvenient_\nthere exists in many dialects the useful compound _ill-convenient_.\n_Unhonest_ for dishonest, though now a dialect form, occurs in\nliterature of the sixteenth century.\n\n[Sidenote: _Curious Prefixes and Suffixes_]\n\nSometimes the prefix _un-_ is a superfluous addition, as in:\n_unbeneath_ (n.Yks.), beneath; _unempt_ (Nhp. Hrf. Oxf. Bdf. Wil.), to\nempty; _ungive_ (Lan. Chs. Lei. Nhp. Bdf. Hnt.), to relax, give way,\nthaw, though this last form has the support of early literary evidence.\nBut on the other hand, _un-_ is used in the formation of practical\nnative words, for which the standard language substitutes words of\nforeign extraction, for example: _uncome_ (Sc. Wm. Yks. Lan. Lin.),\nnot arrived; _unfain_ (Sc. Yks.), reluctant; _unhandy_ (Pem. Glo. Ken.\nDor.), incapable; _unfriend_ (Sc. Nhb. Yks. Not. Hrf. Dev.), an enemy.\n_Ungone_ (n.Cy. Yks. Lan. Lin.), not gone, not sent, is merely making\none simple word out of two, with no gain in meaning, but \u2018he\u2019s just\nungone\u2019, for \u2018he is at the point of death\u2019, rises almost into poetic\nsimplicity. In the hybrid form _unheeastie_ (n.Yks.), indolent, we have\nan old word which recalls the \u2018lowly asse\u2019 of Spenser\u2019s Una:\n\n    One day, nigh wearie of the yrkesome way,\n    From her unhastie beast she did alight,\n    And on the grasse her dainty limbs did lay\n    In secret shadow, far from all mens sight.\n                                               (_F.Q._ I. iii.)\n\nIt would be easy to collect together a large number of words with\ncuriously assorted suffixes, and many of these words are decidedly\neffective. To quote a few examples: _affordance_ (Cum.), ability to meet\nexpense; _abundation_ (Chs. Shr. Stf. Wor. Hrf. Glo.), abundance;\n_blusteration_ (Cum. Lin.), the act of blustering; _prosperation_ (Yks.\nChs. Shr.), prosperity, as used in the old toast at public dinners,\nProsperation to the Corporation; _comparishment_ (Irel.), comparison;\n_timeous_ (Sc. Irel.), timely; _timmersome_ (gen. dial. use in Sc. Irel.\nEng.), timorous; _unnaturable_ (Yks. Lan. Lin. Nhp.), unnatural.\nCorruptions not infrequently are due to the blending of one word with\nanother; for instance, _champeron_ (Oxf. Brks.) is a contamination of\nchampignon and mushroom, M.E. _muscheron_, Fr. _mousseron_; _jococious_\n(n.Cy. Yks. Ess.) is a compound of jocose and facetious; _obsteer_\n(Lin.), sulky, awkward, is an amalgamation of obstinate and austere;\n_tremense_ (Ken.) embraces both tremendous and immense; _thribble_ (Sc.\nNhb. Cum. Yks. Lan. Der. Not. Lei. War. Wor. Ess. Ken.) is treble under\nthe influence of three; _boldrumptious_ (Ken.) is the magnificent\nproduct of bold, and rumpus, and presumptuous, and its meaning may be\ngathered from such a sentence as: that there upstandin\u2019, boldrumptious,\nblowsing gal of yours came blarin\u2019 down to our house. _Battle-twig_\n(Yks. Stf. Der. Not. Lin. Lei. Nhp.), an earwig, is a corruption of\nbeetle + earwig, contaminated with battle + twig.\n\n[Sidenote: _Corruptions due to popular Etymology_\n           _Corruptions due to Sound Change_]\n\nClosely akin to these are the corruptions due to what is called popular\netymology, where an unfamiliar word or syllable becomes converted into\na familiar one. Occasionally it is possible to trace some association\nof meaning to account for the change in pronunciation, as when\nweek-days becomes _wicked-days_ (w.Cy. Som.), probably with an idea of\ncontra-distinction to Sundays and Holy Days. _Illify_ (Lakel. Cum. Yks.\nLan. Stf. Lin.) for vilify explains itself. The common example given\nto illustrate this change is the standard English word belfry. Dr.\nJohnson states the case thus: \u2018_Belfry._ n.s. [_Beffroy_, in French,\nis a tower; which was perhaps the true word, till those, who knew not\nits original, corrupted it to _belfry_, because bells were in it].\u2019\nOne is tempted to suggest that _madancholy_ (Yks. Lan.) for melancholy\nstarted life as a descriptive term for victims of melancholia, but\nunfortunately there is the fact that just in those districts where the\nword occurs, _mad_ does not mean insane, but annoyed, angry, and the\nsuggestion is shown to be absurd. _Madancholy_ must therefore rank with\nthe great majority of corruptions due to sound-change, typified by the\nhackneyed form _sparrow-grass_ for asparagus. Jerusalem artichoke for\n_girasole_ artichoke is recognized as standard English, so also is\ngooseberry. Dr. Johnson has: \u2018_Gooseberry._ n.s. [_goose_ and _berry_,\nbecause eaten with young geese as sauce].\u2019 Modern philologists,\nhowever, scorn this simple solution, and referring us to a French\noriginal, they say gooseberry is a corruption of *groise-berry, or\n*grose-berry. In Marshall\u2019s _Rural Economy of Yorkshire_ (1796) we\nfind the form grossberry, and this gross- is the same as the element\ngros-in French _groseille_, a gooseberry. The Scotch form is _groset_.\nThe pronunciation _cowcumber_ (gen. dial. use in Sc. Irel. Eng.)\nfor cucumber was early recognized as corrupt. A paragraph in a book\ncalled _The English Physitian Enlarged_ (seventeenth century) is\nentitled: \u2018Cucumers, or (according to the pronuntiation of the Vulgar)\ncowcumbers.\u2019 Other examples from various dialects are: _ash-falt_ for\nasphalt; _brown-kitus_, _brown-titus_, _brown-typhus_ for bronchitis;\n_chiny oysters_ (Wil.) for China asters; _Polly Andrews_ (Glo. Wil.)\nfor polyanthus; _rosydendrum_ (Chs.) for rhododendron; _curly-flower_\n(Lin.) for cauliflower; _fair-maid_ (Cor.) for fumade, fumadoe, a cured\n(formerly smoked) pilchard, Sp. _fumado_, smoked; _hairy-sipples_ for\nerysipelas; the _janders_ (many dials.) for jaundice; _a-kingbow_,\n_king-bow_ (Som.), for akimbo; _pockmanteau_ (Sc. Nhb. Lin.) for\nportmanteau, but the substitution of _pock-_ for port-is probably\ndue to association of meaning with _pock_, a bag, sack, or wallet;\n_airy-mouse_, _hairy-mouse_, _raw-mouse_ (Hmp. I.W. Wil.), _rye-mouse_\n(Glo. Wil.), for rear-mouse, the bat, O.E. _hr\u0113re-m\u016bs_; _screwmatic_\n(War. Nrf.) for rheumatic; _tooth-and-egg_ (Nhb. Lan. Der. Not. Lin.)\nfor tutenag, an alloy of copper, zinc, and nickel. Years ago--years and\nyears and donkey\u2019s ears, as the saying is--when motor-cars were yet\nunborn, and when even tram-cars were unknown to country children, I can\nremember my father trying to explain to the little carol-singers at\nChristmastime, that they had introduced a corrupt reading into the text\nof their carol, when they sang:\n\n    The moon and the stars\n    Stopped their fiery ears,\n    And listened while Gabriel spoke.\n\n[Sidenote: _\u2018The rustic Etymologer_]\n\nNow and then we meet with a deliberate attempt on the part of dialect\nspeakers themselves to explain the mysteries of word-derivation. The\nwriter of a book entitled _The Folk and their Word-Lore_ tells of \u2018the\nrustic etymologer\u2019 who explained that the reason why partridges are so\ncalled is \u2018because ... they love to lie between the furrows of ploughed\nland, and so _part_ the _ridges_\u2019. Further, he tells us that: \u2018a\ncottager lamenting that one of a litter of puppies had a hare-lip\n(divided like that of the hare), or, as she pronounced it, _air-lip_,\nexplained that it was so called because it admitted the air through the\ncleft, which prevented the little creature sucking properly.\u2019 But these\nare not the folk who are responsible for the absurd popular etymology\nwhich associates the modern colloquial and slang use of the word _lark_\nwith the O.E. _l\u0101c_ sb., joyous activity, sport, _l\u0101can_ vb., to play,\nand with the dialect _lake_ (Sc. Nhb. Dur. Cum. Wm. Yks. Lan. Chs. Der.\nNot. Lin. Glo.), to play, sport, amuse oneself. This error is the\ninvention of non-philological people who speak standard English. It\ncould not have been propounded by any one who uses the word _lake_, nor\nby any one who understands English philology. O.E. _l\u0101can_ would have\ngiven in standard English, and in most of the above-mentioned dialects,\na form _loke_, and under no circumstances could it have acquired the\n_r_. Apparently _to lark_ is a verb made from the substantive _lark_,\nthe bird. O.E. _l\u0101can_ has died out, but its Scandinavian cognate O.N.\n_leika_, to play, sport, remains in the dialect form _lake_.\n\nFor mere distortion and mispronunciation a good illustration is the\nvariety of dialect shapes which the word breakfast assumes, such as:\n_bracksus_, _brecksus_, _brockwist_, _buckwhist_, &c. A remark often\nheard in Ireland is: Well, I have the price av me supper now, an\u2019 God is\ngood for the brukwust. _Dacious_ (Lin. Som.), impudent, rude, is an\naphetic form of audacious, e.g. Of all th\u2019daacious lads I iver seed oor\nSarah\u2019s Bill\u2019s th\u2019daaciousest. _Demic_ (Yks. Not. Lin.), the\npotato-disease, is an aphetic form of epidemic; similarly _pisle_\n(Yks.), a narration of any kind, is an aphetic form of epistle.\n_Obstropolous_, a corruption of obstreperous, and _obligate_ for oblige,\nare in general dialect use in Scotland, Ireland, and England.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER V\n\nARCHAIC LITERARY WORDS IN THE DIALECTS\n\n\nThe linguistic importance of the dialect-vocabulary for the study of\nour English language and literature in its earlier periods cannot be\nover-estimated, for herein is preserved a wealth of historical words\nfamiliar to us in our older literature, but lost to our standard\nspeech. Numbers of words used by Chaucer and the early Middle English\npoets, by Shakespeare, and by the translators of the Bible, which are\nnow treated as archaisms to be explained in footnotes and appendices\nto the text, still live and move and have their being among our rural\npopulation to-day. Take for illustration this line from the Middle\nEnglish alliterative poem, _Sir Gawayne and the Green Knight_ (l. 2003):\n\n    \u00dee snawe snitered ful snart, \u00feat snayped \u00fee wylde.\n\n[Sidenote: _\u2018Attercop\u2019 and \u2018Bairn\u2019_]\n\nThe three principal words have disappeared from the literary language,\nand to give an exact rendering of these two brief sentences we should\nhave to paraphrase them something like this: The snow, full keenly\ncold, blew on the biting blast, which pinched the deer with frost. But\nif we turn to the dialects, there we find all three: _snitter_ (Sh.I.\nYks.), to snow, sb. a biting blast; _snar_, _snarry_ (Cum. Yks.), cold,\npiercing; _snape_ (n.Cy. Dur. Lakel. Cum. Yks. Lan. Chs. Stf. Der. Lin.\nWar. Shr.), to check, restrain, &c. The difference between _snart_\nand _snar_ is accounted for by the fact that it is a Norse word. An\nadjective in Norse takes a _t_ in the neuter, and this _t_ not being\nrecognized on these shores as an inflexional ending was sometimes\nadopted into English as if it belonged to the stem of the word, as for\nexample in the literary words scant, want, athwart, cp. Icel. _snarr_,\nswift, keen, neut. _snart_. Many a delightful old word which ran away\nfrom a public career a century or two ago, and left no address, may\nthus be discovered in its country retreat, hale and hearty yet, though\nhoary with age. It is hard to make a choice among so many, especially\nwhere the chosen must be few, but the following may perhaps serve as\nrepresentatives of the remainder: _attercop_ (Sc. Irel. Nhb. Cum. Wm.\nYks. Lan. Chs. Wil.), a spider. This was in Old English _attorcoppe_,\na spider, from _\u0101tor_, _attor_, poison, and _coppe_, which probably\nmeans head, the old idea being that spiders were poisonous insects.\nIn the M.E. poem _The Owl and the Nightingale_ (_c._ 1225), the owl\ntaunts the nightingale with eating \u2018nothing but attercops, and foul\nflies, and worms\u2019. Wyclif (1382) has: \u2018The eiren [eggs] of edderes thei\ntobreeken, and the webbis of an attercop thei wouen,\u2019 _Isaiah_ lix.\n5. _Bairn_ or _barn_ (Sc. Irel. and all the n. counties to Chs. Der.\nLin.), a child, O.E. _bearn_, a child, a son or daughter, M.E. _barn_\nor _bern_. Owing to its use among educated Scotch people, this word\nhas gained some footing in our colloquial speech, and it has always\nhad a place in poetical diction, but its real stronghold is Scotland\nand the North. Perhaps no other word breathes such a spirit of human\nlove and tenderness as this does. How infinitely superior is _the\nbarns_ to our commonplace the kids; or _a bit bairn_, or _bairnie_ to\nthat objectionable term a kiddie! _Pillow-bere_ (Irel. n.Cy. Yks. Chs.\nDer. Lin. Shr. e.An. Ken. Sus. Som. Cor.), a pillow-case. We read of\nChaucer\u2019s \u2018gentil Pardoner\u2019 that:\n\n      ... in his male he hadde a pilwebeer,\n    Which that, he seide, was oure lady veyl.\n                                      _Prologue_, ll. 694, 695.\n\nThe word also occurs in several of the wills published in _Wells Wills_,\nby F. W. Weaver, 1890, as, for instance, in that of Juliane Webbe, of\nSwainswick, dated Jan. 11, 1533: \u2018Julian Woodman vj shepe, a cowe &c. a\nsalteseller, a knede cover, a stand, my ij\u207f\u1d48 apparell of my body, a\nflockebed &c. ij pelowberys.\u2019 _Char_, or _chare_ (many dials.), an\nerrand, a turn of work, an odd job, O.E. _cerr_, a turn, _temporis\nspatium_. We retain the word in the compound _charwoman_, and in a\ndisguised form in _ajar_, which literally means on the turn. An old\nproverbial saying (1678) runs: \u2018That char is char\u2019d, as the goodwife\nsaid when she had hanged her husband.\u2019 Shakespeare has the word in:\n\n          the maid that milks\n    And does the meanest chares.\n                                    _Ant. & Cleop._ IV. xv. 75.\n\n[Sidenote: _Charming the Bees_]\n\n_Charm_ (gen. use in midl. and s. counties), a confused intermingled\nsong or hum of birds or bees, e.g. Ow the birds bin singin\u2019 this\nmornin\u2019, the coppy\u2019s all on a charm. It is also used of the sound of\nmany voices. A Herefordshire farmer\u2019s wife writing to me about her five\nchildren under seven years of age, added: \u2018You can guess what a charm\nthey make.\u2019 The O.E. form was _cierm_, a noise, with a verb _cierman_,\nto make a noise. Palsgrave (1530) has: \u2018I chitter, I make a charme as a\nflock of small byrdes do when they be together.\u2019 But we know the word\nbest in Milton\u2019s lines:\n\n    Sweet is the breath of morn, her rising sweet,\n    With charm of earliest birds.--_Par. Lost_, iv. 641.\n\nThe phrase to _charm_ or _cherm bees_ belongs here, and has no connexion\nwith the ordinary word _charm_, of French origin. To _charm bees_ is to\nfollow a swarm of bees, beating a tea-tray, or ringing a stone against a\nspade or watering-can. This music is supposed to cause the bees to\nsettle; but another object in doing thus is to let the neighbours know\nwho owns the bees, if they should chance to settle on adjacent property.\n_Har_, or _harr_ (Sc. Nhb. Dur. Cum. Wm. Yks. Lan. also Mid. e.An. Hmp.\nWil. Som.), the upright part of a gate or door to which the hinges are\nfastened, O.E. _heorr_, a hinge. Chaucer, in describing the \u2018Mellere\u2019,\ntells us:\n\n    Ther nas no dore that he nolde heve of harre,\n    Or breke it at a rennyng with his heed.\n                                          _Prol._ ll. 550, 551.\n\n_Hulk_ (n.Cy. Nhb. Nhp.), a cottage, a temporary shelter in a field for\nthe shepherd during the lambing season, O.E. _hulc_, tugurium. The\n\u2018lodge in a garden of cucumbers\u2019, _Isaiah_ i. 8, is in Wyclif\u2019s Bible:\n\u2018an hulke in a place where gourdis wexen.\u2019 _Marrow_ (gen. dial. use in\nSc. Irel. and n. counties to Chs. Der.), a match, equal, a mate, spouse,\n&c. The word is found in the _Promptorium Parvulorum_ (_c._ 1440):\n\u2018Marwe, or felawe yn trauayle, _socius, sodalis, compar_.\u2019 We are\nchiefly familiar with it in the ballad of _The Braes of Yarrow_, which\nbegins:\n\n    Busk ye, busk ye, my bonny bonny bride,\n      Busk ye, busk ye, my winsome marrow.\n\n_Mommet_ (n.Cy. Wm. Yks. Lan. War. Wor. Shr. Hrf. Wil. Dor. Som. Dev.\nCor.), an image, effigy, a scarecrow, &c., M.E. _mawmet_, an idol, O.Fr.\n_mahummet_, _mahommet_, \u2018idole en g\u00e9n\u00e9ral,\u2019 La Curne; _Mahumet_, one of\nthe idols of the Saracens. It is the same word as _Mahomet_, Arab.\n_Muhammed_. The form in Shakespeare is _mammet_:\n\n            a wretched puling fool,\n    A whining mammet.--_Rom. & Jul._ III. v. 185.\n\n[Sidenote: _Words used for marshy places_]\n\nIn Wyclif\u2019s Bible it is _mawmet_: \u2018And thei maden a calf in tho daies,\nand offriden a sacrifice to the mawmet,\u2019 _Acts_ vii. 41; \u2018My little\nsones, kepe \u021de \u021dou fro maumetis,\u2019 1 _John_ v. 21. _Quag_ (gen. dial.\nuse in Sc. and Eng.), a quagmire. This word occurs in _The Pilgrim\u2019s\nProgress_, in the description of the Valley of the Shadow of Death:\n\u2018behold, on the left hand there was a very dangerous Quag, into which,\nif even a good man falls, he finds no bottom for his foot to stand on:\nInto that Quag King David once did fall, and had, no doubt, therein\nbeen smothered, had not he that is able plucked him out.\u2019 Immediately\nafterwards the same \u2018Quag\u2019 is called a \u2018Mire\u2019: \u2018when he sought, in the\nDark, to shun the Ditch on the one hand, he was ready to tip over into\nthe Mire on the other.\u2019 _Mire_, a bog, a swamp, is common in the Lake\nDistrict and Devonshire. Yet another word with the same meaning is\n_mizzy_ (n.Cy. Lan.), used by the Lancashire author of _Sir Gawayne and\nthe Green Knight_ (_c._ 1360) in one of the most picturesque passages\nin the whole poem, the account of Sir Gawayne\u2019s ride through the\nforest on Christmas Eve:\n\n    \u00dee hasel & \u00fee ha\u021d-\u00feorne were harled al samen,\n    With ro\u021de raged mosse rayled ay-where,\n    With mony brydde\u021d vnbly\u00fee vpon bare twyges,\n    \u00deat pitosly \u00feer piped for pyne of \u00fee colde.\n    \u00dee gome [man] vpon Gryngolet glyde\u021d hem vnder,\n    \u00deur\u021d mony misy & myre, mon al hym one.\n                                                      ll. 744-9.\n\n[Sidenote: _Words used by Middle English Poets_]\n\n_Rise_ (gen. dial. use in Sc. Irel. Eng.), a branch, twig, O.E. _hr\u012bs_,\na twig. \u2018Cherries in the ryse\u2019 is an old London Street Cry, as we know\nfrom Lydgate\u2019s poem entitled _London Lyckpeny_:\n\n    Then vnto London I dyd me hye,\n      Of all the land it beareth the pryse:\n    Hot pescodes, one began to crye,\n      Strabery rype, and cherryes in the ryse.\n                                                     Stanza ix.\n\nAnother instance of the use of the word may be taken from the old carol\n_The Flower of Jesse_ (_c._ 1426):\n\n    Of lily, of rose of ryse,\n    Of primrose, and of fleur-de-lys,\n    Of all the flowers at my device,\n    That Flower of Jesse yet bears the price\n        As most of heal,\n    To slake our sorrows every deal.--Stanza vii.\n\n_Steven_ (Cum. w.Yks.), a gathering; an appointment. Hence, to set\nthe steven, a phrase meaning to agree upon the time and place of\nmeeting, O.E. _stefn_, a voice. The phrase \u2018at unset stevene\u2019 occurs\nin Chaucer\u2019s _Knightes Tale_, l. 666, and in other early poems. In the\n_Cokes Tale_ we read concerning \u2018Perkin Revelour\u2019 and his friends:\n\n    And ther they setten steven for to mete\n    To pleyen at the dys in swich a strete.--ll. 19, 20.\n\n_Shep_ (Cum. Lin. Som. Dev.), a shepherd. This form is familiar to us as\noccurring in the opening lines of _Piers Plowman_:\n\n    In a somer seson whan soft was the sonne,\n    I shope me in shroudes as I a shepe were.\n\n_Toll-booth_ (Sc. Yks.), a place where tolls are paid, a town or\nmarket hall. Matthew, according to Wyclif (1388), was \u2018sittynge in a\ntolbothe\u2019, _Matt._ ix. 9. _Thwittle_ (n.Cy. Cum. Yks. Lan.), a large\nknife. Simkin, the miller of Trumpington, had one:\n\n    A Sheffield thwitel baar he in his hose.\n                                           _Reves Tale_, l. 13.\n\nThe word is a derivative of _thwite_ (Sc. n.Cy. Lan. Der. Shr. Dev.), to\npare wood, to cut with a knife, O.E. _\u00few\u012btan_, to cut, shave off.\n\n[Sidenote: _Survivals of old Substantives_]\n\n\u2018Hit were to tore [hard] for to telle of \u00fee ten\u00fee dole\u2019 of these old\nsubstantives still surviving in the dialects, but I will add just a few\nmore in a list: _ask_ (Sc. Irel. n.Cy. to Chs. and n.Lin.), a newt,\nlizard, O.E. _\u0101\u00f0exe_, cp. Germ. _Eidechse_; _bree_ (Sc. n.Cy. Yks. Lan.\nChs.), the eyelid, the eyebrow, O.E. _br\u01e3w_, the eyelid; _cloam_ (Pem.\nNrf. Dor. Som. Dev. Cor.), crockery, earthenware, O.E. _cl\u0101m_, clay;\n_dig_ (Irel. Yks. Lan. Chs.), a duck, cp. \u2018Here are doves, diggs,\ndrakes\u2019 _Chester Plays_, c. 1400, _Deluge_, 189, \u2018_anette_, a duck, or\ndig,\u2019 Cotgrave; _gavelock_ (Sc. Nhb. Dur. Cum. Wm. Yks. Lan. Der. Not.\nLin. Nrf. Suf.), an iron crowbar, O.E. _gafeluc_, a spear; _holster_\n(Som. Dev. Cor.), a hiding-place, O.E. _heolster_, a place of\nconcealment; _ham_ (Not. Nhp. Glo. Sus. Wil. Dor. Som. Dev.), flat,\nlow-lying pasture, land near a stream or river, O.E. _hamm_, a pasture\nor meadow inclosed with a ditch; _haffet_ (Sc. Irel. Nhb. Cum. Wm.), the\ntemple, the side of the face, O.E. _healf-h\u0113afod_, the front part of the\nhead; _heugh_ (Sc. Irel. Nhb. Cum. Wm. Yks.), a crag, cliff, precipice,\nO.E. _h\u014dh_, a promontory, lit. a hanging (precipice); _hull_ (in gen.\ndial. use in Sc. and Eng.), a husk, a pod, also used as a verb, to\nremove the outer husk of any vegetable or fruit, O.E. _hulu_, husk, cp.\n\u2018Take Whyte Pesyn, and hoole hem in \u00fee maner as men don Caboges,\u2019\n_Cookery Book_, c. 1430; _hoar-stone_ (Sc. Lan. Oxf.), a boundary stone,\nO.E. _h\u0101r st\u0101n_ (lit. a hoar stone, i.e. a grey or ancient stone), often\noccurs in Charters in the part describing the boundary line; _haysuck_\n(Wor. Glo.), hedge-sparrow, O.E. _hegesugge_; _hobbleshow_ (Sc. Nhb.\nDur. Cum. Wm. Yks. Lan.), a tumult, disturbance, &c. \u2018An hubbleshowe,\n_tumultus_\u2019, Levins, _Manipulus Vocabulorum_, 1570; _litten_ (Brks. Sus.\nHmp. Wil. Som.), a churchyard, a cemetery, O.E. _l\u012bct\u016bn_, an enclosure\nin which to bury people; _lide_ (w.Cy. Wil. Cor.), the month of March,\nO.E. _hl\u0233da_; _lave_ (Sc. Irel. Nhb. Dur. Cum. Wm. Yks.), the remainder,\nO.E. _l\u0101f_; _leap_ (many dials.), a large basket, _seed-lip_ (gen. dial.\nuse in Yks. Midl. e. s. and w. counties from Lei.), a basket used to\nhold the seed when sowing, O.E. _s\u01e3dl\u0113ap_; _oly-praunce_ (Nhp.), a\nmerry-making, M.E. _olipraunce_, vanity, fondness for gay apparel;\n_pollywig_, _pollywiggle_ (Sc. Lan. Lei. Nhp. e.An. Hmp. Dev.), a\ntadpole, cp. \u2018Polewigges, tadpoles, young frogs,\u2019 Florio, 1611,\n\u2018Polwygle, wyrme,\u2019 _Promptorium Parvulorum_; _porriwiggle_, _porwiggle_\n(n.Cy. Yks. Lei. e.An. Sur.), a tadpole, cp. \u2018that which the ancients\ncalled _gyrinus_, we a porwigle or tadpole,\u2019 Sir Thomas Browne, _Vulgar\nErrors_, 1646; _preen_ (Sc. Nhb. Lakel. Yks.), a pin, O.E. _pr\u0113on_;\n_rake_ (Sc. Nhb. Dur. Lakel. Yks. Lan. Lin.), a track, path, &c., cp.\nO.E. _racu_, a hollow path; _ridder_ (Oxf. Hrt. Mid. e.Cy. Sus. Hmp.\nI.W. Wil. Dor. Som. Cor.), a sieve for sifting grain, O.E. _hr\u012bdder_;\n_rivlin_ (Sh. & Or.I.), a kind of sandal made of undressed skin with the\nhair outside, O.E. _rifeling_; _ream_ (Sc. Irel. n.Cy. Cum. Yks. Lan.\nDev. Cor.), cream, O.E. _r\u0113am_; _rother_ (n.Cy. Lan. War. Wor. Hrf.\nSus.), horned cattle, M.E. _rother_, an ox; _sax_ (Sh.I. Lin. Brks.\nw.Cy. Som. Dev. Cor.), a knife, O.E. _seax_; _seal_ (Sc. Chs. e.An.),\ntime, season--the seal of the day to you is a friendly salutation; to\ngive a person the seal of the day is to give him a passing\nsalutation--O.E. _s\u01e3l_, time, season, &c.; _shippen_ (Sc. Nhb. Cum. Wm.\nYks. Lan. Chs.), a cow-house, a cattle-shed, O.E. _scypen_, _scipen_, a\nstall, a fold for cattle or sheep; _slade_ (many dials.), a valley, a\ngrassy plain between hills, O.E. _sl\u00e6d_; _souter_ (Sc. n.Cy. Yks. Nhp.),\na shoemaker, O.E. _s\u016btere_, from Lat. _sutor_; _soller_ (n.Cy. Yks. Lan.\nShr. Hrf. e.An. s.Cy. Cor.), an upper chamber or loft, O.E. _solor_, a\nloft, upper room, from Lat. _solarium_; _singreen_ (Wor. Shr. Bck. Ken.\nSus. Hmp. I.W. Wil.), the house-leek, O.E. _singr\u0113ne_, the houseleek,\nlit. evergreen; _snead_ (in gen. dial. use in Sc. Irel. Eng.), the\nhandle of a scythe, O.E. _sn\u01e3d_; _whittle_ (Irel. Dur. Lei. War. Pem.\nGlo. Oxf. Suf. Sus. Hmp. Dor. Som. Dev. Cor.), a cape, a shawl, &c.,\nO.E. _hw\u012btel_, a cloak, a blanket; _wogh_ (Nhb. Dur. Cum. Wm. Yks. Lan.\nChs. Der.), a wall, O.E. _w\u0101g_, _w\u0101h_; _yelm_ (War. Glo. Bdf. Mid.),\nstraw laid ready for thatching, O.E. _gelm_, a handful, a sheaf.\n\nIt would be possible to produce samples of these retired English words\ncategorized under each of the various parts of speech, but it will be\nsufficient here to keep to the most important categories, namely, nouns,\nadjectives, and verbs. Not but what many interesting words will thus\nperforce stand neglected, for even the humble adverb is often worth a\nglance. Take for example the modest form _tho_ (Dor. Som. Dev. Cor.),\nthen, at that time. This is the regularly developed lineal descendant of\nO.E. _\u00fe\u0101_, and Chaucer\u2019s _tho_ in the line:\n\n    To don obsequies, as was tho the gyse.\n                                       _Knightes Tale_, l. 135.\n\nThe common dialect adverb _nobbut_, only, nothing but, lit. not but,\noccurs in _Sir Gawayne and the Green Knight_. When Sir Gawayne is\nlooking for \u2018\u00fee grene chapelle\u2019, to his disgust he finds that it\nconsists of a hollow mound, \u2018nobot an old caue,\u2019 where, he says:\n\n    ... my\u021dt about mid-ny\u021dt,\n    \u00dee dele his matynnes telle!--ll. 2187, 2188.\n\n[Sidenote: _Adjectives now disused in Standard English_]\n\nBut to come to our second category, namely, old adjectives now disused\nin standard English, examples are: _argh_ (Sc. Nhb. Dur. Yks. Lin.),\ntimorous, apprehensive, O.E. _earh_ (_earg_), cowardly (cp. Germ.\n_arg_), \u2018His hert arwe as an hare,\u2019 Rob. of Gloucester, _Chron._,\nc. 1300; _brant_ (Nhb. Cum. Wm. Yks. Lan. Lin.), steep, high, also\nerect, and hence proud, pompous, e.g. as brant as a besom, O.E.\n_brant_, _bront_. Brantwood on the eastern margin of Coniston Lake,\nthe residence of Ruskin, was so called from the _brant_, or steep\nwood which rises behind it. _Dern_ (Sc. Nhb. Chs.), secret, obscure,\nalso dreary, dark, O.E. _dyrne_, _derne_, cp. \u2018For derne love of\nthee lemman, I spille,\u2019 _Milleres Tale_, l. 92; _elenge_ (Ken. Sur.\nSus.), solitary, lonely, tedious, O.E. _\u01e3lenge_, tedious, tiresome,\nlit. very long; _fremd_ (Sc. Nhb. Dur. Cum. Wm. Yks. Lan. Chs. Lin.\nNhp.), strange, foreign, not of kin, O.E. _fremde_, foreign, cp. Germ.\n_fremd_. In M.E. this word is often coupled with _sibb_, which latter\nword has the opposite meaning of related, akin, as for example in the\nlines from the _Moral Ode_, c. 1200:\n\n    Wis is \u00feat him seolue bi\u00feenk\u00fe \u00fee hwile he mot libbe,\n    Vor sone wille\u00fe him for-yete \u00fee fremede and \u00fee sibbe.\n                                                    ll. 34, 35.\n\n[Sidenote: _\u2018Sib\u2019 and \u2018Lief\u2019_]\n\nThis too remains in the dialects as _sib_ (Sc. Irel. Nhb. Cum. Yks. Lan.\nChs. Der. Lin. Nhp. War. Wor.), closely related, akin, e.g. Oor\nMarmaduke\u2019s sib to all the gentles in th\u2019 cuntry, though he hes cum doon\nto le\u00e4d co\u00e4ls. _Fenny_ (Ken. Hmp. Wil.), mouldy, mildewed, also in the\nform _vinny_ (Glo. Brks. Hmp. I.W. Wil. Dor. Som. Dev. Cor.), O.E.\n_fynig_, used by \u00c6lfric in translating _Joshua_ ix. 5, of the\nGibeonites\u2019 bread; _hettle_(Sc. Nhb. Dur. Yks.)-tongued, foul-mouthed,\nirascible in speech, O.E. _hetol_, full of hate, malignant. _Lief_,\ndear, beloved, is obsolete as an adjective even in the dialects, but as\nan adverb it is common throughout the country, so too is the comparative\nform _liefer_, more willingly, rather, M.E. _me were lever_, I had\nrather, a phrase familiar to us in the description of the Clerk of\nOxenford:\n\n    For him was levere have at his beddes heede\n    Twenty bookes, clad in blak or reede,\n    Of Aristotle and his philosophie,\n    Then robes riche, or fithele, or gay sawtrie.\n                                         _Prologue_, ll. 293-6.\n\n_Piping hot_ (gen. dial. and colloquial use) is a phrase also found in\nChaucer:\n\n    And wafres, pyping hote out of the glede.\n                                       _Milleres Tale_, l. 193.\n\n_Punch_ (Sc. n.Cy. Yks.), short, fat, occurs in Pepys\u2019s _Diary_, April\n30, 1669, \u2018I ... did hear them call their fat child punch, which\npleased me mightily, that word being become a word of common use for\nall that is thick and short.\u2019 _Rathe_ (Sc. Irel. Yks. Hrf. Gmg. Pem.\nGlo. Brks. Hrt. e.An. Ken. Sus. Hmp. I.W. Wil. Dor. Som. Dev.), adj.\nand adv. early, soon, quick, O.E. _hr\u00e6\u00f0_, adj. quick, swift, _hr\u00e6\u00f0e_,\nadv. quickly, soon, recalls Milton\u2019s line:\n\n    Bring the rathe primrose that forsaken dies.\n                                             _Lycidas_, l. 142.\n\n[Sidenote: _Familiar Miltonic Words_]\n\nIn many of the dialects the word is found in the compound _rathe-ripe_,\ncoming early to maturity, for the use of which we have evidence as far\nback as the seventeenth century, in an epitaph on two little children\nwho died in 1668 and 1670:\n\n    Such early fruites are quickly in their prime,\n    Rathe ripes we know are gathered in betime;\n    Such Primroses by Death\u2019s impartiall hand\n    Are cropped, and landy\u2019d up at Heaven\u2019s command.\n\nAnother familiar Miltonic word is _scrannel_ (Yks. Lan. Not. Nhp. War.),\nlean, thin; of the voice: weak, piping.\n\n    And when they list, their lean and flashy songs\n    Grate on their scrannel pipes of wretched straw.\n                                       _Lycidas_, ll. 123, 124.\n\n_Sackless_ (Sc. Nhb. Dur. Cum. Wm. Yks. Lan.) is a word which has fallen\nfrom its high estate, just like the standard English word _silly_, which\noriginally meant blessed, happy (cp. Germ. _selig_). O.E. _sacl\u0113as_\nsignified free from accusation, innocent, but in the modern English\ndialects the usual meaning is lacking common sense, foolish, stupid, or\nweak in body or mind, feeble, helpless, e.g. She leuk\u2019d sackless and\ndeead-heeaded, an we put her intiv a gain-hand garth te tent her, i.e.\nshe [the cow] looked helpless and hung her head, and we put her into an\nadjoining enclosure to look after her. _Span-new_ (gen. dial. and\ncolloquial use in Sc. and Eng.), quite new, M.E. _spannewe_, occurs in\n_The Lay of Havelok the Dane_, c. 1280:\n\n    \u00dee cok bigan of him to rewe,\n    And bouthe him clo\u00fees, al spannewe.\n                                                  ll. 967, 968.\n\nIt is originally a Norse form, O.N. _sp\u0101n-n\u0233r_, literally, new as a\nchip of wood, the vowel of _sp\u0101n_ having become short in M.E., and the\nO.N. _n\u0233r_ replaced by the native equivalent _newe_. _Sp\u0101n_ is the O.N.\ncognate of our word _spoon_, O.E. _sp\u014dn_, an article made out of wood\nwhen it first took shape. _Tickle_ (gen. dial. use in Sc. Irel. and\nEng.), insecure, unstable, &c., is used by Chaucer in the _Milleres\nTale_:\n\n    This world is now ful tikel, sikerly.--l. 240.\n\n[Sidenote: _\u2018Tickle\u2019, \u2018Nesh\u2019, and \u2018Lear\u2019_]\n\nA word of almost the same meaning is _wankle_ (Sc. n. and midl. counties\nto Wor. Shr. Hrf.), insecure, tottering, also weak, delicate, O.E.\n_wancol_, used in the same senses. _Swipper_ (Sc. n.Cy. Lan.), quick,\nnimble, is recorded in the _Promptorium Parvulorum_, \u2018Swypyr, or\ndelyvyr, _agilis_.\u2019 _Nesh_, meaning soft, brittle, delicate, &c., O.E.\n_hnesce_; and _rear_, used of meat, eggs, &c., half-cooked, underdone,\nO.E. _hr\u0113r_, are still in common use all over England. _Lear_, empty,\nhungry, O.E. _l\u01e3re_ (cp. Germ. _leer_), is found in almost all the\nMidland, Southern, and South-western counties. A curious relic of an\nobsolete verb is the participle _forwoden_ (n.Cy. Yks.), in a state of\ndirt, desolation, and waste, generally caused by vermin, overrun, e.g.\nOor apple cham\u2019er is fair forwoden wi\u2019 rattens and meyce. It is the same\nword as O.E. _forworden_, undone, perished, the past participle of\n_forweor\u00fean_, to perish, a compound of the prefix _for-_ expressing\ndestruction, and _weor\u00fean_, to become, which remains to us in the\nBiblical phrase, \u2018Woe worth the day!\u2019 _Ezek._ xxx. 2, and the dialect\n_wae worth_, or _wa worth_ (Sc. n.Cy. Dur. Lakel. Wm. Yks. Lan. Der.),\nused as an imprecation, or as an exclamation of dismay on hearing\nfearful tidings.\n\n[Sidenote: _Time-honoured Verbs_]\n\nThis brings us to the third category, the time-honoured verbs, and\ntruly their name is legion. _Dow_ (Sc. Nhb. Dur. Cum. Wm. Yks. Lan.\nChs. Der. Shr. e.An.), to thrive, prosper, to be good for something,\n&c., O.E. _dugan_, to be strong, to avail (cp. Germ. _taugen_), M.E.\n_dowen_:\n\n    \u021cif me be dy\u021dt a destyn\u00e9 due to haue,\n    What dowes me \u00fee dedayn, o\u00feer dispit make?\n                            _Patience_, ll. 49, 50, _c._ 1360.\n\nThis verb contains the stem from which comes the adjective _doughty_:\n\n    If doughty deeds my lady please,\n      Right soon I\u2019ll mount my steed.\n\nBut even this is now archaic, and the verb has wholly disappeared from\nthe standard speech, whilst it remains in various forms and meanings in\nthe dialects. It is a saying in Yorkshire that: They never dow that\nstrange dogs follow. Another current expression, \u2018He\u2019ll never dow, egg\nnor bird,\u2019 occurs amongst Ray\u2019s _Proverbs_, 1678. _Dow_ occurs as a\nsubstantive meaning worth, value, in several phrases, as: _to do no\ndow_, to be of no use or value, e.g.\n\n    A whussling lass an\u2019 a bellering cow\n    An a crowing hen\u2019ll du nea dow.\n\n_Dree_ (Sc. Nhb. Lakel. Yks. Lan. Chs. Der.), to endure, suffer, O.E.\n_dr\u0113ogan_, M.E. _dreyen_, _drien_. In a description of the building of\nthe Tower of Babel, given in the _Cursor Mundi_ (_c._ 1300), are the\nlines:\n\n    Wid corde and plumbe \u00feai wroght so hy,\n    \u00deat hete of sune might \u00feai nohut dry.\n                                                ll. 2247, 2248.\n\nTo dree one\u2019s weird, to endure one\u2019s fate, is a phrase now practically\nconfined to Scotland, though this was not the case in the earlier\nperiods of the language. It occurs, for instance, in _Cleanness_, a poem\nprobably written by the author of _Sir Gawayne and the Green Knight_,\nwho was a Lancashire man:\n\n    & bede \u00fee burne [King Zedekiah] to be bro\u021dt to babyloyn \u00fee riche,\n    & \u00feere in dongoun be don to dre\u021de \u00feer his wyrdes.\n                                                ll. 1223, 1224.\n\n_Flite_ (Sc. Nhb. Dur. Cum. Wm. Yks. Lan. Der. Lin.), to scold, find\nfault, O.E. _fl\u012btan_, to strive, chide, M.E. _fl\u012bten_, to quarrel,\ncontend:\n\n    hou we shule flyten\n    ant to gedere smiten.\n                          _King Horn_, ll. 855, 856, _c._ 1300.\n\n[Sidenote: _\u2018Heal\u2019 and \u2018Healer\u2019_]\n\n_Heal_ (gen. dial. use in Sc. Irel. and Eng.), to hide, conceal, keep\nsecret, O.E. _helan_, str. vb. and _helian_, wk. vb., to conceal, M.E.\n_helen_:\n\n    Seynt Gregorie was a gode pope, and had a gode forwit,\n    \u00deat no priouresse were prest, for \u00feat he ordeigned.\n    \u00deei had \u00feanne ben _infamis_ [betrayer of confession] \u00fee firste day,\n        \u00feei can so yuel hele conseille.\n                   _Piers Plowman_, B. v. ll. 166-8, _c._ 1377.\n\nA _healer_ is a receiver of stolen goods, a common word in the proverb:\nthe healer\u2019s as bad as the stealer. The verb is also used in the sense\nof to cover, to wrap up, to tuck up with bed-clothes. The allied verb\n_hill_ (n.Cy. Yks. Lan. Chs. Stf. Der. Not. Lin. Lei. Nhp. War. Wor.\nShr. Oxf. Wil.), to wrap, cover with clothes, is a Scandinavian\nloan-word, O.N. _hylja_, to cover (cp. Goth. _huljan_):\n\n    Hile me vnder schadou ofe \u00fei wenges twa.\n         Rich. Rolle of Hampole, _Ps._ xvi. 10, _c._ 1330.\n\nAnother verb of the same meaning is _hap_ (gen. dial. use in Sc. Irel.\nand n. counties to Der. Not. Lin.), which also occurs in our early\nliterature:\n\n    I pray \u00fee Marie happe hym warme.\n        _York Plays_, c. 1400. Edited by Lucy Toulmin Smith, p. 144.\n\n_Hish_ (Sc. War. Nrf.), to make a hissing noise to hound on a dog,\noccurs in Wyclif\u2019s Bible, \u2018The Lord ... \u021daf hem in to stiryng, and in to\nperischyng, and in to hisshing,\u2019 _2 Chron._ xxviii. 8. _Lout_ (Sc. Irel.\nNhb. Yks. Hmp.), to stoop, bend, bow, O.E. _l\u016btan_, M.E. _louten_:\n\n    Knelynge, conscience to \u00fee kynge louted,\n    To wite what his wille were, and what he do shulde.\n                         _Piers Plowman_, B. iii. ll. 115, 116.\n\n_Latch_ (n.Cy. Dur. Yks. Lan. Der. e.An.), to catch, lay hold of, O.E.\n_l\u00e6ccan_, M.E. _lacchen_, to catch, seize. In a poem called _Patience_,\nwritten by the same author as _Cleanness_ and _Sir Gawayne and the Green\nKnight_, the word occurs in a striking and curiously realistic\ndescription of Jonah inside the whale: \u2018Lorde! colde wat\u021d his cumfort\n& his care huge.... How fro \u00fee bot in-to \u00fee blober [bubbling waves]\nwat\u021d with [by] a best lacched.\u2019 _Lathe_ (n.Cy. Cum. Wm. Yks. Lan. Chs.),\nto bid, ask, invite, especially to invite to a funeral or wedding,\nO.E. _la\u00f0ian_, M.E. _la\u00f0ien_:\n\n    \u00fee king ...\n    ... sende his sonde,\n    oueral his kine-lond,\n    and lette la\u00feien him to,\n    alle his enihtes.\n                      La\u021damon\u2019s _Brut_, ll. 6667-73, _c._ 1275.\n\n[Sidenote: _\u2018Nim\u2019 and \u2018Nimble\u2019_]\n\n_Nim_ (Sc. Nhb. Cum. Wm. Yks. Lan. Stf. Der. Not. Lin. Nhp. Lei. War.\nKen. Som. Dev.), to catch up quickly, to take or catch up on the sly, to\nsteal, O.E. _niman_, to take, M.E. _nimen_:\n\n    Noe on ano\u00feer day nymme\u021d efte \u00fee dovene.\n                                _Cleanness_, l. 481, _c._ 1360.\n\nIn this sense the verb is obsolescent in the dialects, but it is still\nused in the sense of to walk with quick, short steps, to walk briskly\nand lightly, or mincingly. Probably this meaning is a development of the\nearlier uses of the verb in the phrase \u2018to take one\u2019s way\u2019, and hence\nsimply, to go, cp.:\n\n    Rys radly, he says, & rayke forth euen,\n    Nym \u00fee way to nynyue, wyth-outen o\u00feer speche.\n                             _Patience_, ll. 65, 66, _c._ 1360.\n\n    \u00f0anne he nime\u00f0 to kirke.--_Bestiary_, l. 93, _c._ 1250.\n\nThe standard adjective _nimble_ is related to this old verb, so too is\nthat apparently meaningless word _nim_ in the old nursery rhyme said or\nsung to a baby on one\u2019s knee:\n\n    The ladies they ride nim, nim, nim;\n    The gentlemen they ride trim, trim, trim;\n    The farmers they ride trot for trot;\n    An\u2019 the hinds they ride clot for clot;\n    But the cadgers ride creels an\u2019 aa, creels an\u2019 aa.\n                                                  Nhb. Version.\n\nOne is glad to give a local habitation and a name to a friend of\nsuch tender associations! _Quop_ (Lei. Wor. Hrf. Glo. Oxf. Brks.),\nto palpitate, throb with pain, M.E. _quappen_, occurs in Chaucer\u2019s\n_Troilus and Creseyde_ (_c._ 1374): \u2018So that his herte gan to quappe,\u2019\nBk. III, l. 57, and also in Wyclif\u2019s Bible: \u2018And he [Tobie] wente out\nfor to wasshen his feet; and lo! a gret fish wente out for to deuouren\nhym. Whom dredende Tobie criede out with a gret vois, seiende, Lord, he\nasaileth me. And the aungil seide to hym, Cach his fin, and dra\u021d it to\nthee. The whiche thing whan he hadde do, he dro\u021d it in to the drie, and\nit began to quappe befor his feet,\u2019 _Tobit_ vi. 2-5. _Ream_ (Sc. Dur.\nCum. Yks. Lan. Lin. Nhp. Shr.), to shout, cry aloud, to weep, bewail,\nO.E. _hr\u0113man_, M.E. _r\u0113men_:\n\n    A longeyng heuy me strok in swone,\n    & rewfully \u00feenne I con to reme.\n                            _Pearl_, ll. 1180, 1181, _c._ 1360.\n\n_Speer_ (Sc. Irel. Nhb. Dur. Lakel. Yks. Lan. Chs. Der. Nhp. Som.), to\nsearch out, to ask, inquire, O.E. _spyrian_, M.E. _sp\u00fcrien_, _speren_,\n_spiren_:\n\n    My will, myn herte and al my witt\n    Ben fully set to herkne and spire\n    What eny man wol speke of hire.\n                          Gower, _Confessio Amantis_, Bk. VIII,\n                            ll. 1998-2000, _c._ 1400.\n\n_Shale_ (Dur. w.Yks. Nhp. e.An. Wil. Dor.), to walk crookedly or\nawkwardly, to shamble:\n\n    Schouelle-fotede was that schalke, and schaylande hyme semyde,\n    With schankez vn-schaply, schowande to-gedyrs.\n                    _Morte Arthure_, ll. 1098, 1099, _c._ 1420.\n\n[Sidenote: _Chaucerian Survivals_]\n\n_Snib_ (Sc. Irel. Rut. Lei. Nhp. Bdf.), to check, restrain, rebuke, M.E.\n_snibben_:\n\n    Him wolde he snybbe scharply for the nones.\n                                   Chaucer, _Prologue_, l. 523.\n\n_Swink_ (Sc. n.Cy. Yks. War. Hrf. Ken.), to work hard, labour, toil,\nO.E. _swincan_, M.E. _swinken_:\n\n    Or swynke with his handes, and laboure.--_Prologue_, l. 186.\nThe form _swinked_, oppressed, tired, also occurs, reminding us of\nMilton\u2019s:\n\n           ... what time the labour\u2019d ox\n    In his loose traces from the furrow came,\n    And the swink\u2019t hedger at his supper sate.\n                                            _Comus_, ll. 291-3.\n\n_Thole_ (Sc. Irel. Nhb. Dur. Lakel. Yks. Lan. Stf. Der.), to bear,\nsuffer, endure, O.E. _\u00feolian_, M.E. _tholien_, _tholen_:\n\n    Ne sal nafre eft crist \u00feolien dea\u00f0 for [to] lesen hem of dea\u00f0e.\n    \u00c6nes drihten helle brac his frend he ut brohte\n    Him self he \u00feolede dea\u00f0 for hem wel diere he hes bohte.\n                             _Moral Ode_, ll. 184-6, _c._ 1170.\n\n[Sidenote: _Development of standard English \u2018Wont\u2019_]\n\n_Won_ (Sc. Nhb. Dur. Cum. Wm. Lan. Chs. Der.), to dwell, live, O.E.\n_wunian_, M.E. _wunien_, _wunen_, and _wonen_, with _o_ written for _u_\nas in N.E. _come_, _love_, &c.\n\n    A Schipman was ther, wonying fer by weste.\n                                            _Prologue_, l. 388.\n\nBut in many districts this is said to be obsolescent in the dialects of\nto-day. The past participle of this verb, O.E. _wunod_, M.E. _wuned_,\nearly came to be used in the sense of accustomed, for instance:\n\n    She never was to swiche gestes woned.\n                                        _Clerkes Tale_, l. 339.\n\nCp. \u2018Wunt, or vsyed: _assuetus_,\u2019 _Promptorium Parvulorum_. From this\nwas developed the standard English form _wont_, which ought to be\npronounced _wunt_, but the graphic _o_ has been taken for an original\n_o_, and the spelling has influenced the pronunciation. _Wont_ occurs\nin a few of the Midland dialects as a verb meaning to familiarize, to\ndomesticate, accustom, e.g. If you tek the cat, you\u2019ll hev to butter\nher feet to wont her, an\u2019 then it\u2019s chanch if shay doon\u2019t coom back\n\u2019ere agen (Lei.). _Welk_ (Sc. n.Cy. Yks. Hrf. Bdf. Hrt. e.An. Ken.), to\nwither, to fade, M.E. _welken_:\n\n    An o\u00f0er drem cam him bi-foren,\n    vii eares wexen fette of coren,\n    On an busk, ranc and wel tidi,\n    And vii lene rigt \u00f0or-bi,\n    Welkede, and smale.\n                   _Genesis and Exodus_, ll. 2103-7, _c._ 1250.\n\nAnother verb with the same meaning is _wellow_ (Yks.), which occurs in\nWyclif\u2019s Bible: \u2018The reed and the resshe shal welewen,\u2019 _Isaiah_ xix. 6.\n_Yawl_ (Sc. Cum. Yks. Lan. Lin. Lei. Nhp. War. e.An. Som.), to howl, to\nbawl, is found in _Sir Gawayne_:\n\n    He [the boar] hurte\u021d of \u00fee hounde\u021d, & \u00feay\n    Ful \u021domerly \u021daule & \u021delle.--ll. 1452, 1453.\n\nThe more common verb in this sense is _yowl_ (gen. dial. use in Sc.\nIrel. Eng.), cp. \u2018Y shal weile and \u021doule,\u2019 Wyclif, _Micah_ i. 8.\n\n[Sidenote: _Wealth of old Verbs still surviving_]\n\nThe majority of the verbs given above are of such frequent occurrence\nin Old and Middle English, that to give just one quotation, chosen more\nor less at random, is apt to be misleading, yet space forbids any more\nexhaustive treatment. There are hundreds of these verbs still existing\nin the dialects, which could be illustrated from our older literature\ndown the course of several centuries before they disappeared from the\nstandard language. A few further examples are: _greet_ (Sc. Irel. Nhb.\nDur. Cum. Wm. Yks. Lan. Der.), to cry, weep, O.E. _gr\u01e3tan_; _heald_\n(Sh.I. n.Cy. Yks.), to lean, incline, O.E. _hieldan_; _kythe_ (Sc.\nn.Cy. Nhb. Dur. Yks.), to make known, show, display, O.E. _c\u0233\u00f0an_;\n_lofe_ (Sc. Cum. Wm. Yks. Lan. Chs. Stf. War. Shr.), to offer, offer\nat a price, O.E. _lofian_, to praise, to appraise, set a price on;\n_pote_ (Sc. n.Cy. Cum. Wm. Yks. Lan. Chs. Der. Shr. Hrf. Glo. Som. Dev.\nCor.), to kick, push with the hands or feet, O.E. _potian_; _reese_\n(I.W. Cor.), of grain: to drop out of the ear from over-ripeness, O.E.\n_hr\u0113osan_, to fall down; _lease_ (many dials.), to pick out, to glean,\n&c., O.E. _lesan_, to gather, collect; _mint_ (Sc. Irel. n.Cy. Nhb.\nYks. Lan. Lin. Nhp. e.An.), to purpose, intend, &c., O.E. _myntan_;\n_retch_ (gen. dial. use in Sc. and Eng.), to stretch, extend, fig.\nto exaggerate, lie, O.E. _reccan_, to stretch, extend; _sam_ (Wm.\nYks. Lan. Der. Wor.), to gather or scrape together, to collect, O.E.\n_samnian_; _smoor_ (Sc. Irel. Nhb. Dur. Lakel. Yks. Lan. Der. Lin. Lei.\nNhp. e.An.), to smother, suffocate, O.E. _smorian_; _tend_ (n.Cy. Wm.\nLan. Chs. Stf. Nhp. Wor. Shr. Oxf. Som. Dev. Cor.), to kindle, light,\nset fire to, O.E. _on-tendan_; _umbethink_, or _unbethink_ (Nhb.\nLakel. Wm. Yks. Lan. Chs. Der. Lin. Shr. Dev.), to bethink oneself, to\nrecollect, O.E. _ymbe\u00f0encen_, to think about, consider; _walt_ (Sc.\nn.Cy. Yks. Lan. Chs. Der. Shr. Suf.), to totter, to lean to one side,\nO.E. _wealtan_, to roll, stagger.\n\n[Sidenote: _Dialect Survivals in the Authorized Version_]\n\nIt is interesting to note how many of the archaic words of our\nAuthorized Version of the Bible (1611) can be found remaining in the\ndialects. For example: _blain_ (Sc. Dur. Yks. Lan. e.An.), a sore, an\nulcer, O.E. _blegen_; _bolled_ (Lin. Lei.), of corn or flax: ripe, in\npod, in seed; _botch_ (Yks.), a breaking-out on the skin; _brickle_\n(Yks. Lan. Chs. Nhp. Wor. Shr. Suf. Sur. Hmp. Dor. Som.), brittle,\neasily broken: \u2018This man that of earthly matter maketh brickle vessels,\u2019\n_Wisdom_ xv. 13; _chanel-bone_ (Lin. Som.), the collar-bone, _Job_ xxxi.\n22, marginal note; _charger_ (Yks. Chs. Sus.), a large platter, or\nmeat-dish, A.Fr. _chargeour_; _chest_ (Sc. Nhb. Suf.), to put into the\ncoffin: \u2018he [Jacob] dieth and is chested,\u2019 _Gen._ 1, chapter heading;\n_clout_ (var. dial. uses in Sc. Irel. and Eng.), a patch, a rag;\n_cocker_ (Yks. Lan. Chs. Der. Lin.), to indulge, pamper: \u2018Cocker thy\nchild, and he shall make thee afraid,\u2019 _Ecclus._ xxx. 9; _coney_ (Yks.\nLin. e.An. Ken. Sus. Wil. Cor.), a rabbit; _daysman_ (Sc. n.Cy. Nhb.),\nan arbitrator, an umpire; _ear_ (n.Cy. Yks. Lei. Hrf. Ken. Wil. Som.),\nto till or plough land; _fitches_ (gen. dial. use in Sc. Irel. Eng.),\nvetches; _leasing_ (Sc. Nhb. Yks.), lying, falsehood; _let_ (Irel. Wm.\nYks. Chs. Der. Lin. War. sw.Cy.), to hinder, impede; _magnifical_\n(Som.), grand, fine; _marish_ (Sc. Irel. Yks. Chs.), a marsh, O.Fr.\n_mareis_; _mote_ (Sc. Irel. Yks. I.W. sw.Cy.), an atom, a minute\nsplinter of wood, or particle of straw; _pill_ (Yks. Lan. Chs. Stf. Der.\nNot. Lin. Midl. Shr. e.An. Som.), to peel, strip off the outer bark;\n_tabor_ (Chs. Stf. Lei. Nhp. War. Wor. Shr. Glo.), to rap, tap lightly;\n_wist_ (Nhb. Yks.), knew, and known, in the phrase _had I wist_ (Nhb.\nYks. Lan.), had I known, cp.:\n\n    For feare of foole had I wist cause thee to waile,\n    let fisgig be taught to shut doore after taile.\n        Tusser, _Five Hundred Pointes of Good Husbandrie_, 1580.\n\n_Wrought_ (Sc. Irel. n.Cy. Der. Suf.), preterite of to work: worked,\nlaboured. Some of these old words and expressions have become so common\nthat they must now be counted as colloquialisms, as, for instance, the\nphrase _away with_, meaning to endure, put up with: \u2018The calling of\nassemblies I cannot away with,\u2019 _Isaiah_ i. 13, cp. \u2018I can nat away with\nmy wyfe, she is so heedy, _je ne puis poynt durer auecques ma femme,\nelle est si testue_,\u2019 Palsgrave, _c._ 1530. Another now commonplace word\nis _ado_, which has been immortalized by Shakespeare\u2019s use of it in the\ntitle of one of his plays. It occurs in _Mark_ v. 39: \u2018Why make ye this\nado, and weep?\u2019 cp. \u2018Ado or gret bysynesse, _sollicitudo_,\u2019 _Prompt.\nParv._\n\n[Sidenote: _Shakesperian Words in the Dialects_]\n\nIn the same way most of the obsolete Shakespearian words can still be\ntraced in the dialects. The Shakespeare-Bacon theory, if not too dead\nand gone to be worth further combat, could easily be completely\noverthrown by any one who chose to array against it the convincing mass\nof evidence which proves Shakespeare\u2019s intimate acquaintance with the\nWarwickshire dialect. Numbers of the words and phrases which Shakespeare\nused, and which we have since lost, still exist in his native county,\nand in the other counties bordering on Warwickshire. Some of them were\nat that date part and parcel of the standard vocabulary, and might be\nput by Shakespeare into the mouths of his highest personages; others\nagain must even then have been regarded by him as dialect, and natural\nonly to the speech of lower folk. It is Corporal Nym who says _shog_ for\nmove, jog: \u2018Will you shog off?\u2019 _Hen. V_, II. i. 47; \u2018Shall we shog? the\nking will be gone from Southampton,\u2019 _Hen. V_, II. iii. 47. It is a\nserving-man who uses the phrase _to sowl by the ears_: \u2018He\u2019ll go, he\nsays, and sowl the porter of Rome gates by the ears,\u2019 _Cor._ IV. v. 213;\nand it is Mistress Quickly, the hostess of a tavern, who calls herself a\n\u2018lone woman\u2019 when she means she is a widow: \u2018A hundred mark is a long\none for a poor lone woman to bear,\u2019 _2 Hen. IV_, II. i. 35. But to\nclassify after this sort all the old words in Shakespeare would entail\na classification of all the characters in the plays, and would thus be\noutside the scope of this book. I cannot therefore do more than give\nexamples massed together irrespective of the question whether they were\nliterary words or not in Shakespeare\u2019s time:\n\n_Bavin_, a bundle of brushwood, a faggot, cp.:\n\n    In stacking of bauen, and piling of logs,\n    Make under thy bauen a houell for hogs.\n                                                        Tusser.\n\n_Bawcock_, a semi-mocking term of endearment, a foolish person;\n_biggin_, a nightcap without a border:\n\n    Yet not so sound and half so deeply sweet\n    As he whose brow with homely biggen bound\n    Snores out the watch of night.\n                                      _2 Hen. IV_, IV. v. 26-8.\n\n[Sidenote: _Biggin, Bolter, Blouze_]\n\nThe word also denoted a child\u2019s cap, hence: From the biggin to the\nnightcap, signifies from childhood to old age. It is worth noting that\nthis is the meaning which Dr. Johnson assigns to the word--cp. \u2018Biggin\n... A child\u2019s cap\u2019--and he gives as the sole illustration the above\nquotation from Shakespeare. _Bolter_, used of snow, dirt, &c., means to\ncohere, form into lumps: \u2018blood-boltered Banquo smiles upon me,\u2019 _Macb._\nIV. i. 123; _blouze_, a fat, red-faced wench, a coarse, untidy woman,\nalso termed a blossom: \u2018Sweet blowse, you are a beauteous blossom,\nsure,\u2019 _Tit. And._ IV. ii. 72; _codger_, a shoemaker: \u2018Ye squeak out\nyour cozier\u2019s catches,\u2019 _Twelfth N._ II. iii. 97; _day-woman_, a\ndairymaid; _dowl_, down, soft feathers; _drumble_, to be sluggish and\nslow in movement; _cowl_, a large tub: \u2018Go take up these clothes here\nquickly. Where\u2019s the cowl-staff? look, how you drumble! Carry them to\nthe laundress in Datchet-mead; quickly, come,\u2019 _Merry Wives_, III. iii.\n156; _fettle_, to prepare, make ready; _fill-horse_, the shaft-horse;\n_firk_, to beat; _flap-jack_, a pancake; _gaberdine_, a loose garment or\nsmock-frock: \u2018Alas, the storm is come again! my best way is to creep\nunder his gaberdine; there is no other shelter hereabout: misery\nacquaints a man with strange bed-fellows,\u2019 _Temp._ II. ii. 40; _flaw_, a\nsudden gust or blast of wind:\n\n    O, that that earth, which kept the world in awe,\n    Should patch a wall to expel the winter\u2019s flaw!\n                                         _Ham._ V. i. 238, 239.\n\n_Gallow_, to frighten; _geck_, a fool; _grize_, a step; _haggle_, to\nhack, mangle; _inch-meal_, little by little; _inkle_, an inferior,\ncoarse kind of tape: \u2018He hath ribbons of all the colours i\u2019 the rainbow,\n... inkles, caddisses, cambrics, lawns,\u2019 _Wint. Tale_, IV. iv. 208. As a\nsimple word, _inkle_ is dying out now, but the compound _inkle-weaver_\nis very common in the phrase: As thick as inkle-weavers, very friendly\nor intimate together. _Insense_, to cause to understand, to explain,\ninform, literally to put sense into. The word is usually spelt _incense_\nin Shakespeare editions, so that it becomes mixed up with _incense_, to\nenrage, incite, but _insense_ is clearly the right spelling in such a\npassage as:\n\n    Sir, I may tell it you, I think I have\n    Incensed the lords o\u2019 the council that he is--\n    For so I know he is, they know he is--\n    A most arch-heretic.--_Hen. VIII_, V. i. 42-5.\n\n_Jance_, to knock about, expose to circumstances of fatigue; _kam_,\ncrooked, awry, e.g. It\u2019s clean kam, an\u2019 nowt else (Lan.), cp. \u2018This is\nclean kam,\u2019 _Cor._ III. i. 304; _kecksies_, hemlock, and similar\nhollow-stalked plants; _keech_, a lump of congealed fat:\n\n                      I wonder\n    That such a keech can with his very bulk,\n    Take up the rays o\u2019 the beneficial sun.\n                                       _Hen. VIII_, I. i. 54-6.\n\nCp. \u2018Did not goodwife Keech, the butcher\u2019s wife, come in then and call\nme gossip Quickly?\u2019 _2 Hen. IV_, II. i. 101; _kibe_, a chilblain, a\ncrack in the skin: \u2018The age is grown so picked that the toe of the\npeasant comes so near the heel of the courtier, he galls his kibe,\u2019\n_Ham._ V. i. 153. An Irish recipe for the cure of kibes is as follows:\nThe person suffering from kibes must go at night to some one\u2019s door and\nknock. When any one asks \u2018Who\u2019s there?\u2019 the person who knocked must\nrun away calling, \u2018Kibey heels, take that.\u2019 Then the kibes will leave\nthe person who has them, and pass to the one who called \u2018Who\u2019s there?\u2019\n_Knoll_, to toll; _malkin_, a slattern; _mammock_, to break or cut to\npieces, tear, mangle; _mated_, confused, bewildered, e.g. I be reg\u2019lar\nmated (Oxf.), cp. \u2018My mind she has mated, and amazed my sight,\u2019 _Macb._\nV. i. 86; _mazzard_, the head or face; _milch_ or _melch_, warm, soft,\nand moist, in the modern dialects applied chiefly to the weather,\ne.g. Ther\u2019s a de\u00e4l of fo\u00e4ks is badly, an\u2019 its all thruf this melch\nweather (Lin.), cp. \u2018Would have made milch the burning eyes of heaven,\u2019\n_Ham._ II. ii. 540. The word is connected with Du. _malsch_, tender,\nsoft, E.Fris. _malsk_, and has probably nothing to do with _milch_,\nmilk-giving. _Minikin_, small, delicate, effeminate; _moble_, to muffle\nthe head and shoulders in warm wraps:\n\n    _First Play._ But who, O, who had seen the mobled queen--\n    _Ham._ The mobled queen?\n    _Pol._ That\u2019s good; mobled queen is good.\n                                          _Ham._ II. ii. 524-7.\n\n[Sidenote: _Moble, Muss, Nook-shotten_]\n\n_Muss_, a disturbance, uproar, squabble; _neeze_, to sneeze:\n\n    And then the whole quire hold their hips and laugh,\n    And waxen in their mirth and neeze and swear.\n                                    _Mid. N. D._ II. i. 55, 56.\n\nCp. \u2018By his neesings a light doth shine,\u2019 _Job_ xli. 18; _nook-shotten_,\nshot into a corner, used in Cheshire of cheese put aside from the rest\nas inferior:\n\n       ... but I will sell my dukedom\n    To buy a slobbery and a dirty farm\n    In that nook-shotten isle of Albion.\n                                       _Hen. V_, III. v. 12-14.\n\n_Nay-word_, a by-word; _orts_, remnants, scraps, especially of food;\n_peat_, a term of endearment, a pet; _pick-thank_, a flatterer, a\ntale-bearer, a mischief-maker; _plash_, a puddle, a small pool; _pink_,\nadj. and vb. small, to make small, to contract, especially to contract\nthe eyes: \u2018Plumpy Bacchus with pink eyne,\u2019 _A. and C._ II. vii. 121;\n_poach_, _potch_, to poke, especially with the fingers, to thrust;\n_pomewater_, a large kind of apple; _quat_, a pimple; _rack_, flying\nclouds, thin broken clouds driven by the wind:\n\n    Anon permit the basest clouds to ride\n    With ugly rack on his celestial face.\n                                          _Sonn._ xxxiii. 5, 6.\n\n_Reechy_, smoky, begrimed with smoke, dirty; _reneague_, _renege_, to\nrefuse, deny; _rivelled_, wrinkled, puckered; _shive_, a slice of\nanything edible, especially of bread; _skillet_, a small metal vessel\nused for boiling liquids: \u2018Let housewives make a skillet of my helm,\u2019\n_Oth._ I. ii. 273; _sleeveless_, useless, bootless, especially in the\nphrase _a sleeveless errand_, cp. _Troil. and Cr._ V. iv. 9; _squinny_,\nto squint, look askance; _stover_, winter fodder for cattle:\n\n    Thy turfy mountains, where live nibbling sheep,\n    And flat meads thatch\u2019d with stover, them to keep.\n                                         _Temp._ IV. i. 62, 63.\n\n_Tetchy_, peevish, irritable; _trash_, a cord used in checking dogs, a\nlong slender rope fastened to the collar of a young pointer or setter if\nheadstrong and inclined to run in:\n\n    If this poor trash of Venice, whom I trash\n    For his quick hunting, stand the putting on,\n    I\u2019ll have our Michael Cassio on the hip.\n                                          _Oth._ II. i. 312-14.\n\n_Trencher-man_, a term applied to a person with a good, hearty appetite;\n_urchin_, a hedgehog; _utis_, noise, confusion: \u2018By the mass, here will\nbe old utis,\u2019 _2 Hen. IV_, II. iv. 22; _yare_, ready, prepared; _yerk_,\nto strike hard, to beat.\n\n[Sidenote: _Shakespearian Phrases in the Dialects_\n           _Make a coil, Be in a taking_]\n\nAmong interesting expressions of Shakespeare\u2019s date still existing in\nthe dialects are: _to burn daylight_, to light candles before they are\nwanted; figuratively, to waste time:\n\n      _Mercutio._ ... Come, we burn daylight, ho!\n      _Rom._ Nay, that\u2019s not so.\n      _Mer._ I mean, Sir, in delay\n    We waste our lights in vain, like lamps by day.\n                                   _Rom. and Jul._ I. iv. 43-5.\n\n[Sidenote:_Make a coil, Be in a taking_]\n\n_To make a coil_, to make a stir, confusion, or fuss: \u2018I am not worth\nthis coil that\u2019s made for me,\u2019 _King John_, II. i. 165; _come your\nways_, come here, _Ham._ I. iii. 135, _Troil. and Cres._ III. ii. 44;\n_pass_, condition, state, in phrases: \u2018What, have his daughters brought\nhim to this pass?\u2019 _Lear_, III. iv. 65, \u2018Till I be brought to such a\nsilly pass,\u2019 _T. Shrew_, V. ii. 124; _to one\u2019s head_, to one\u2019s face,\ne.g. I told him to his head that I wouldn\u2019t have such goings on in my\nhouse any more (Sus.):\n\n                 ... he shall bring you\n    Before the duke, and to the head of Angelo\n    Accuse him home and home.\n                              _Meas. for Meas._ IV. iii. 146-8.\n\n_To be helped up_, used ironically: to be in a difficulty, e.g. What\nwith the missis bad, and him out of work, they\u2019re well helped up (War.).\nYou\u2019re prettily holp up, is a common expression of derision, cp.:\n\n    A man is well holp up that trusts to you;\n    I promised your presence and the chain;\n    But neither chain nor goldsmith came to me.\n                                 _Com. of Errors_, IV. i. 22-4.\n\n_To be in a taking_ (gen. colloq. use), a state of excitement, grief, or\nperplexity; a fit of petulance or temper, cp. \u2018What a taking was he in\nwhen your husband asked who was in the basket,\u2019 _Mer. Wives_, III. iii.\n191; _a hole in the coat_, a flaw or blemish in character or conduct,\ncp. \u2018If I find a hole in his coat, I will tell him my mind,\u2019 _Hen. V_,\nIII. vi. 87; _to make the door_, to shut or fasten the door: \u2018Make the\ndoors upon a woman\u2019s wit, and it will out at the casement,\u2019 _A. Y. L.\nI._ IV. i. 162; _to stand one on_, to be incumbent on, to be to one\u2019s\ninterest, cp.:\n\n                     ... For my state\n    Stands on me to defend, not to debate.\n                                          _Lear_, V. i. 68, 69.\n\n_A thing of nothing_, a trifle, next to nothing, e.g. He bought a lot\no\u2019 taters for his cows, and got \u2019em for a thing o\u2019 nothing (Chs.),\ncp.: _Ham._ The king is a thing-- _Guil._ A thing, my lord? _Ham._ Of\nnothing, _Ham._ IV. ii. 30-32. Beside this exists also the parallel\nexpression \u2018a thing of naught\u2019, in the dialects now, _a thing of\nnowt_: \u2018You must say \u201cparagon\u201d: a paramour is, God bless us, a thing\nof naught,\u2019 _Mids. N. D._ IV. ii. 14, cp. \u2018They that war against thee\nshall be as nothing, and as a thing of nought,\u2019 _Isaiah_ xli. 12.\n_Worth a Jew\u2019s eye_, of great value, e.g. Hoo mays a rare weife, hoo\u2019s\nwo\u2019th a Jew\u2019s eye (Chs.), cp.:\n\n    There will come a Christian by,\n    Will be worth a Jewess\u2019 eye.\n                                    _M. of Ven._ II. v. 42, 43.\n\n[Sidenote: _Shakespeare\u2019s Knowledge of Dialect_]\n\nThe Quartos and Folios read \u2018a Jewes eye\u2019, which is now considered the\nbetter reading. The expression _the varsal world_ only differs by a\nnormal change in pronunciation from Shakespeare\u2019s \u2018versal world\u2019: \u2018I\u2019ll\nwarrant you, when I say so, she looks as pale as any clout in the versal\nworld,\u2019 _Rom. and Jul._ II. iv. 220. Opinions differ as to the precise\nmeaning of the second element in _cock-shut_, twilight, the close of the\nday, used also in the phrase _cock-shut time_:\n\n    Thomas the Earl of Surrey, and himself,\n    Much about cock-shut time, from troop to troop\n    Went through the army.--_Rich. III_, V. iii. 69-71.\n\nThe corresponding term for daybreak is _cock-light_. _More sacks to the\nmill_ is a game played in Oxfordshire and Berkshire. It is a\nrough-and-tumble boys\u2019 game, in which as many boys as possible are\nheaped together, one above another. As each successive boy is added to\nthe heap the boys shout: More sacks to the mill! cp.:\n\n    More sacks to the mill! O heavens, I have my wish!\n    Dumain transform\u2019d! four woodcocks in a dish.\n                                    _L. L. L._ IV. iii. 81, 82.\n\nThe ancient game of _loggats_ has died out, but the term is still used\nto denote the small sticks or pieces of wood used in playing _trunket_\nand other games. Cp. \u2018Did these bones cost no more the breeding, but to\nplay at loggats with \u2019em? mine ache to think on\u2019t,\u2019 _Ham._ V. i. 100.\nAnother Shakespearian game is the _Nine Men\u2019s Morris_, also known as\n_Merills_: \u2018The boyish game called Merils or five-penny Morris; played\nhere most commonly with stones, but in France with pawns or men made of\npurpose and tearmed Merelles,\u2019 Cotgrave, cp. \u2018The nine men\u2019s morris is\nfill\u2019d up with mud,\u2019 _Mids. N. D._ II. i. 98. _Hunt\u2019s up_ is an old pipe\ntune especially used by the waits on Christmas Eve or Christmas morning:\n\n    Hunsep through the wood, Hunsep through the wood,\n    Merrily goes the day, sir;\n    Get up old wives and bake your pies,\n      To-morrow is Christmas Day, sir.\n\nCp. \u2018Hunting thee hence with hunt\u2019s up to the day,\u2019 _Rom. and Jul._ III.\nv. 34. From the derived sense of tumult, outcry, has been developed a\nverb used in the Lake District in the meaning of to scold, rate, abuse,\ne.g. He\u2019ll hunsip thi fer thi pains. But, lest this list become\nwearisomely long, it shall close with the time-worn interjectional\nphrase: _Adone_, cease, leave off, cp. \u2018Therefore ha\u2019 done with words,\u2019\n_T. Shrew_, III. ii. 118.\n\n[Sidenote: _Dr. Johnson\u2019s Testimony_]\n\nDr. Johnson bears his testimony to Shakespeare\u2019s knowledge of dialect\nand colloquial speech in the Preface to the Dictionary: \u2018If the language\nof theology were extracted from Hooker and the translation of the Bible;\nthe terms of natural knowledge from Bacon; the phrases of policy, war,\nand navigation from Raleigh; the dialect of poetry and fiction from\nSpenser and Sidney; and the diction of common life from Shakespeare, few\nideas would be lost to mankind, for want of English words, in which they\nmight be expressed.\u2019 But the Dictionary \u2018was intended primarily to\nfurnish a standard of polite usage, suitable for the classic ideals of\nthe new age\u2019 (v. _Six Essays on Johnson_, by Walter Raleigh, p. 82).\nJohnson, therefore, though he incorporated this \u2018diction of common\nlife\u2019, did not hesitate to sit in judgment upon it when he thought fit.\nTake for example the phrase _to make bold_, which appears in the\nDictionary thus: \u2018_to make bold_. To take freedoms: a phrase not\ngrammatical, though common. _To be bold_ is better; as, _I was bold to\nspeak_.\n\n      I have _made bold_ to send to your wife;\n    My suit is, that she will to Desdemona\n    Procure me some access.      _Shakesp. Othello._\u2019\n\n[Sidenote: _Johnson\u2019s Dictionary_]\n\n(This--it may be mentioned in passing--is one of the cases where Johnson\nis quoting from memory, rather than from a printed text, as is shown by\nslight verbal inaccuracies, v. _Oth._ III. i. 35.) Or again: \u2018_To have\nrather_. [This is, I think, a barbarous expression of late intrusion\ninto our language, for which it is better to say _will rather_.]\u2019 It is\na very common phrase in Shakespeare, though Johnson does not here cite\nhis authority.\n\n[Sidenote: _Johnson\u2019s Dialect_\n           _Johnson\u2019s Treatment of Dialect_]\n\nIn the early days of Dictionaries a lexicographer impressed his work\nwith the stamp of his own personality in a way which is impossible in\nmodern times when Dictionary-making ranks among the abstract sciences.\nJohnson\u2019s Dictionary is pre-eminently personal, betraying the author\u2019s\ncharacter and opinions at every turn; indeed, certain definitions, such\nas those of \u2018lexicographer\u2019, \u2018grubstreet\u2019, \u2018pension\u2019, \u2018excise\u2019, &c.,\nhave become the hackneyed illustrations wherever Johnson\u2019s life and\nwritings are discussed. It is not surprising, therefore, if we find in\nhis treatment of dialect words some points of biographical interest.\nCertain of his views with regard to literature and language are plainly\ngiven in his Preface to the Dictionary: \u2018I soon discovered that the\nbulk of my volumes would fright away the student, and was forced to\ndepart from my scheme of including all that was pleasing or useful in\nEnglish literature, and reduce my transcripts very often to clusters of\nwords, in which scarcely any meaning is retained; thus to the weariness\nof copying, I was condemned to add the vexation of expunging. Some\npassages I have yet spared, which may relieve the labour of verbal\nsearches, and intersperse with verdure and flowers the dusty desarts\nof barren philology.\u2019 Speaking of the difficulty of collecting words,\nhe says: \u2018the deficiency of dictionaries was immediately apparent;\nand when they were exhausted, what was yet wanting must be sought by\nfortuitous and unguided excursions into books, and gleaned as industry\nshould find, or chance should offer it, in the boundless chaos of\nliving speech.... That many terms of art and manufacture are omitted,\nmust be frankly acknowledged; but for this defect I may boldly allege\nthat it was unavoidable: I could not visit caverns to learn the\nminer\u2019s language, nor take a voyage to perfect my skill in the dialect\nof navigation, nor visit the warehouses of merchants, and shops of\nartificers, to gain the names of wares, tools, and operations, of which\nno mention is found in books; what favourable accident, or easy inquiry\nbrought within my reach, has not been neglected; but it had been a\nhopeless labour to glean up words, by courting living information, and\ncontesting with the sullenness of one, and the roughness of another.\u2019\nBut even a cursory glance through the pages of the Dictionary show\nthat where the \u2018living information\u2019 was his own knowledge of the\ndialect words of his native county it was a \u2018labour\u2019 of love to glean\nthem up and place them among his \u2018verdure and flowers\u2019, above the\nregion of \u2018boundless chaos\u2019. Just as it can be shown from the internal\nevidence of their respective Dictionaries that Skinner belonged to\nLincolnshire, Levins to Yorkshire, and Cotgrave to Cheshire, so it\ncould be proved that Johnson belonged to Staffordshire, even if we had\nno other testimony outside his Dictionary. Some of the most striking\nof these evidences are as follows: \u2018Lich.... A dead carcase; whence\n_lichwake_, the time or act of watching by the dead; _lichgate_, the\ngate through which the dead are carried to the grave; _Lichfield_, the\nfield of the dead, a city in Staffordshire, so named from martyred\nChristians. _Salve magna parens._\u2019 \u2018_Kecksy_. n.s. [commonly _kex_,\n_cigue_, French; _cicuta_, Latin. Skinner.] Skinner seems to think\n_kecksy_ or _kex_ the same as hemlock. It is used in Staffordshire both\nfor hemlock, and any other hollow jointed plant.\u2019 \u2018Shaw.... A thicket;\nA small wood. A tuft of trees near Lichfield is called Gentle _shaw_.\u2019\n\u2018Tup. n.s. [I know not of what original.] A ram. This word is yet\nused in Staffordshire, and in other provinces.\u2019 In other cases, though\nhe does not mention his own native county, he seems to be so familiar\nwith the word in question, as belonging to rustic speech, that, with\nthe evidence of its existence in the Midland dialects of to-day, we may\nsafely assume that it was current in the Staffordshire dialect of his\ntime. For example: \u2018Huff. n.s. [from _hove_, or _hoven_, swelled: he is\n_huffed up by distempers_. So in some provinces we still say the bread\n_huffs up_, when it begins to _heave_ or ferment: _huff_, therefore,\nmay be ferment. To be in a _huff_ is then to be in a _ferment_, as we\nnow speak],\u2019 cp. _huff_ (Sh.I. Yks. Lei. Nhp. War.), to swell, puff\nup; to rise in baking, generally used with _up_. \u2018Clees, n.s. The two\nparts of the foot of beasts which are cloven-footed. _Skinner_. It\nis a country word, and probably corrupted from _claws_,\u2019 cp. _clee_\n(gen. dial. use in Eng.), claw. It represents O.E. _cl\u0113a_, the nom.\nform of the substantive which in the oblique cases has given Eng.\n_claw_. \u2018_Fleet_. v.a.... 3. [In the country.] To skim milk; to take\noff the cream: whence the word _fleeting_ dish,\u2019 cp. _fleet_ (Cum.\nw.Yks. Lan. Hrt. e.An. Suf. Ken.), to skim, take off the surface,\nespecially to take off the cream from milk; _fleeting-dish_, a flat\ndish used in skimming cream from milk. \u2018Gleed. n.s.... A hot glowing\ncoal. A provincial and obsolete word,\u2019 cp. _gleed_ (Sc. Irel. Nhb.\nCum. Chs. Stf. Der. Not. Lei. Nhp. War. Wor. Shr. Glo.), a spark,\nember, red hot-coal, &c. \u2018To Pound, v.a. [punian, Sax. whence in many\nplaces they use the word _pun_].\u2019 The form _pun_ still exists in the\nfollowing counties: n.Cy. w.Yks. s.Chs. Der. Not. Lei. War. Wor. Shr.\nHrf. Glo. \u2018Rear. adj.... 1. Raw; half roasted; half sodden. 2. Early. A\nprovincial word.\n\n      O\u2019er yonder hill does scant the dawn appear,\n    Then why does Cuddy leave his cot so _rear_?      _Gay._\u2019\n\nCp. _rear_ (gen. dial. use in Eng.), of meat, eggs, &c.: half-cooked,\nunderdone, O.E. _hr\u0113r_, not thoroughly cooked, lightly boiled. \u2018Soe.\nn.s. [_sae_, Scottish]. A large wooden vessel with hoops, for holding\nwater; a cowl. A pump grown dry will yield no water; but pouring a\nlittle into it first, for one bason full you may fetch up as many\n_soe_-fills. _More._\u2019 Cp. _soa_ (n.Cy. Nhb. Stf. Lin. Bdf. e.An.), a\nlarge round tub, gen. with two ears; used for brewing or carrying water,\nO.N. _s\u0101r_, gen. _s\u0101s_, a large cask. \u2018Suds. n.s.... 1. A lixivium of\nsoap and water. 2. _To be in the_ Suds. A familiar phrase for being in\nany difficulty.\u2019 The same phrase is still extant in n.Lin. and s.Wor.\n\u2018To Toot. v.n.... To pry; to peep; to search narrowly and slily. It is\nstill used in the provinces, otherwise obsolete.\n\n      I cast to go a shooting,\n    Long wand\u2019ring up and down the land,\n    With bow and bolts on either hand,\n      For birds and bushes _tooting_.      _Spenser\u2019s Past._\u2019\n\n[Sidenote: _Johnson\u2019s Scottish Assistants_\n           _Johnson\u2019s Treatment of Scots Words_\n           _\u2018Low Words_]\n\nCp. _toot_ (Sc. Nhb. Cum. Yks. Lan. Chs. Der. Lin. Rut. Lei. Nhp.\nWar.), to peep, and pry about; to spy, O.E. _t\u014dtian_, to peep out.\n\u2018To Trape. v.a. [commonly written _to traipse_: probably of the same\noriginal with _drab_]. To run idly and sluttishly about. It is used\nonly of women,\u2019 cp. _trape_ (Cum. Wm. Lin. Nrf. Suf.), to walk in a\nslovenly manner, especially with the dress trailing; and _trapes_ (gen.\ndial. and colloq. use in Sc. Irel. and Eng.), used in the same sense.\nOne striking example of accurate knowledge of a word belonging only to\na very limited locality is the entry: \u2018Sarn. n.s. A British word for\npavement, or stepping stones, still used in the same sense in Berkshire\nand Hampshire,\u2019 cp. _sarn_ (Shr. Brks. Hmp.), a culvert; a pavement;\nstepping stones, cp. Wel. _sarn_, pauimentum. The word _atter_ Johnson\nintroduces on the authority of Skinner: \u2018Atter. n.s.... Corrupt matter,\nA word much used in Lincolnshire. _Skinner._\u2019 It is used to-day only\nin certain northern counties, and in East Anglia. The information\nconcerning words then current \u2018in the northern counties, and in\nScotland\u2019, was probably supplied by Johnson\u2019s assistants. Out of his\nsix amanuenses, five were Scots.[1] A few examples of these words are:\n\u2018Fain. adj.... 1. Glad; merry; chearful; fond. It is still retained\nin Scotland in this sense.\u2019 \u2018Flit. v.n.... 2. To remove; to migrate.\nIn Scotland it is still used for removing from one place to another\nat quarter-day, or the usual term.\u2019 \u2018Grout. n.s. [... In Scotland\nthey call it _groats_.] 1. Coarse meal.\u2019 \u2018Haver is a common word in\nthe northern counties for oats: as, _haver_ bread for oaten bread.\u2019\n\u2018Kirk. n.s.... An old word for a church, yet retained in Scotland.\u2019\n\u2018To Lout. v.n.... In Scotland they say, a fellow with _lowtan_ or\n_luttan_ shoulders; that is, one who bends forwards; his shoulders or\nback,\u2019 cp. _looting_, ppl. adj. stooping, bending, now occurring in Sc.\ndialects only. \u2018Leverook. n.s.... This word is retained in Scotland,\nand denotes the lark. The smaller birds have their seasons; as, the\n_leverook_. _Walton\u2019s Angler._ If the lufft faa \u2019twill smoore aw the\n_leverooks_. _Scotch Prov._\u2019 This proverbial saying is still found in\nSc. dialects, used in speaking to those who expect unlikely evils to\nbefall them. Other examples of extant Scottish words noted by Johnson\nare Ambry, Bannock, Jannock, Lyart, Lope, Piggin, Sark, Skep, Thrapple,\nThrodden. Numbers of modern dialect words are to be found in Johnson\u2019s\nDictionary stigmatized by him as \u2018low\u2019. Without making a complete\ncollection of them, and submitting them to careful linguistic study,\nit is impossible to say definitely in each case why he thus marked\nthem off from polite speech. One is, however, tempted to think that he\nsometimes thus disposed of a word simply because he did not happen to\nknow it in his own dialect; for some of his \u2018low\u2019 words have no worse\nhistory than others which he admits as \u2018provincial\u2019. For example: \u2018To\ndag. v.a.... To daggle; to bemire; to let fall in the water,\u2019 is given\nas \u2018a low word\u2019, while the synonymous \u2018To daggle\u2019 is admitted without\ncomment; cp. _dag_, to trail in the dew, wet, or mire, to bedraggle,\nnow essentially a Midland word, and _daggle_ (n.Cy. Yks. Chs. Lei.\nNhp. War. Oxf. e.An. Suf.), with the same meaning. Others of his \u2018low\u2019\nwords yet current are: \u2018To Collogue, v.n.... To wheedle; to flatter; to\nplease with kind words\u2019; \u2018A Clutter, n.s.... A noise; a bustle; a busy\ntumult; a hurry; a clamour\u2019; \u2018To dizen. v.a.... To dress; to deck; to\nrig out.\u2019 On the other hand, modern usage confirms Johnson\u2019s opinion in\nthe case of: \u2018Souse. adv. With sudden violence. A low word\u2019; \u2018To Swop.\nv.a. [Of uncertain derivation.] To change; to exchange one thing for\nanother. A low word\u2019; and so with many other words, which are to the\npresent day, not dialect, but colloquial and slang expressions that\nhave never worked their way up into \u2018polite usage\u2019, as has been the\nbetter fortune of: \u2018To budge\u2019; \u2018To coax\u2019; \u2018Quandary\u2019; \u2018Touchy\u2019; and a\nfew more, which were once also under the ban of Johnson\u2019s opprobrium,\nand were each branded with his stern, judicial dictum, \u2018a low word\u2019.\n\n[1] \u2018For the mechanical part he employed, as he told me, six amanuenses;\nand let it be remembered by the natives of North Britain, to whom he is\nsupposed to have been so hostile, that five of them were of that\ncountry. There were two Messieurs Macbean; Mr. Shiels, who we shall\nhereafter see partly wrote the _Lives of the Poets_ to which the name of\nCibber is affixed; Mr. Stewart, son of Mr. George Stewart, bookseller at\nEdinburgh; and a Mr. Maitland. The sixth of these humble assistants was\nMr. Peyton, who, I believe, taught French, and published some elementary\ntracts.\u2019--Boswell, _Life of Johnson_, sub anno 1748. Ed. G. Birkbeck\nHill (1887), vol. i, p. 187.\n\n[Sidenote: _The Survival of Rare Words_]\n\nWe have already seen that numbers of familiar words which we were wont\nto look upon as dead bodies embalmed in the prose or verse of bygone\ncenturies, are yet alive and active in the dialects of to-day. But not\nonly have the familiar words been thus preserved, but also, sometimes,\nthe rare and unfamiliar. Where scholars have been unable to discern the\ntrue meaning, or where the sense has been merely deduced from the\ncontext, the discovery of the living word in some rustic dialect has\nsupplied the missing clue, or turned vague conjecture into well-grounded\ncertainty. There exists in Sussex and Hampshire the word _crundel_, used\nto denote a ravine, or a strip of covert dividing open country, always\nin a dip, usually with running water in the middle. In the _Codex\nDiplomaticus_ edited by Kemble, more than sixty _crundels_ are\nmentioned, but the meaning of the word had always remained a puzzle.\nSweet, in his _Anglo-Saxon Dictionary_, defines it as a cavity, a\nchalk-pit(?), a pond(?); Bosworth-Toller as a barrow, a mound raised\nover graves to protect them; Leo as a spring or well; Kemble as a sort\nof watercourse, or a meadow through which a stream flows. It was the\ndiscovery of the existence of the word in the dialects which placed the\ncorrect meaning beyond doubt. In the Old English epic poem _Beowulf_,\noccurs the following passage: _Ofer \u00fe\u01e3m hongia\u00f0 hrinde bearwas_, Over\nwhich [lake] hang ... woods. The question as to the meaning of _hrinde_\nhas formed the subject of frequent discussion, and various translations\nhave been suggested, e.g. barky, rustling, placed in a ring or circle,\nstanding in a ring, or gnarled(?), v. _Beowulf_, by W. J. Sedgefield,\nLitt.D., 1910. Dr. Richard Morris, however, proved fairly conclusively\nthat the right meaning should be rimy, frosty. The word _hrinde_ was\ntaken to be a corrupt form of O.E. _hr\u012bmge_, rimy, covered with\nhoar-frost, and this amended reading was adopted in subsequent editions\nof the text. Now the word for hoar-frost in several northern dialects is\n_rind_, and from a philological point of view, it is quite possible to\nconnect the two words, and justify the retention of the MS. reading,\nwhilst corroborating the accepted translation.\n\n[Sidenote: _Sir Gawayne and the Green Knight_]\n\nAbout the middle of the fourteenth century were produced four\nremarkable poems, _Sir Gawayne and the Green Knight_, a romantic\nstory of the adventures of an Arthurian knight; _Pearl_, a Vision;\n_Cleanness_; and _Patience_, stories taken from the Bible. We know\nnothing of the life of the author, we do not even know his name.\nPerhaps the little \u2018Marjory\u2019 who \u2018lyfed not two yer in our thede\n[country]\u2019 was the poet\u2019s own daughter, and the _Pearl_ the _In\nMemoriam_ outpouring of his life\u2019s sorrow. If so, it is the only shred\nof his biography which we possess, and some scholars would rob us\neven of that, by affirming that the lost \u2018Pearl\u2019 was purely a poetic\ncreation. We can only guess at the man through his works. Judged by\nthem, he appears to have been a literary country gentleman, born and\nbred in Lancashire, a man equally at home in his study, pen in hand,\ndescribing armed knights, and embattled castles, the tumultuous\nsurgings of the Deluge, and the woes of Jonah in the \u2018maw\u2019 of the\n\u2018wylde walterande whal\u2019; or, in the saddle, following the \u2018wylde\nswyn\u2019, or \u2018reynarde\u2019 \u2018\u00fee schrewe\u2019 to the sound of horn and bugle and\nthe \u2018glauerande glam of gedered rachchez\u2019 [yelping cry of a pack\nof hounds]. He possessed, on the one hand, a real vein of poetic\nimagination, coupled with learning and knowledge, and on the other,\nall the instincts of a keen sportsman. He was a lover of nature and\noutdoor life, with extraordinary powers of accurate observation, and an\nartist\u2019s eye for picturesque detail. Thus his memory was stored with\na rich and varied vocabulary which the exigencies of his alliterative\nverse brought into full play. Many of the words he used are not found\nrecorded anywhere else in literature, but they have remained in the\ndialect of the district to which the poet belonged. _Sir Gawayne_\nespecially, by reason of its more secular subject-matter, abounds in\nwords which are common in the North-country dialects of to-day, and\nit is these modern instances which have brought to light previously\nhidden meanings, and have confirmed contextual deductions, and thus\nenabled us to appreciate more fully the skilful handling of a wide\nrange of vocabulary which characterizes this unknown poet, sportsman,\nand man of letters. In the description of the wondrous caparison of\nthe Green Knight\u2019s horse are mentioned \u2018his molaynes\u2019. The Glossary\nto the text gives this word as signifying: round embossed ornaments,\nbut with a query. Stratmann\u2019s _Dictionary_ gives \u2018_Molaine_, sb.?\nsome ornament of a shield\u2019. No other instance of the use of the word\noccurs in literature, but it is found in the Midland and South Midland\nspoken dialects: _Mullen_, the head-gear of a horse; the bridle of a\ncart-horse. Similarly, \u2018toppyng\u2019, another word peculiar to this poem.\nThe Glossary and Dictionary suggest the meanings \u2018mane(?), or top,\nhead(?)\u2019; the correct meaning as shown by the dialects is: a horse\u2019s\nforelock. When the Man in Green \u2018gedere\u021d vp hys grymme tole, Gawayn\nto smyte\u2019, he \u2018mynte\u021d at hym ma\u021dtyly\u2019, l. 2290. Obviously the verb\n\u2018mynt\u2019 means, as the Glossary says, to aim, or strike, but the more\nexact sense, and the one required by the story, is shown by the modern\ndialect _mint_ (Sc. Irel. and n.Cy. dialects), to make a feigned\nattempt at, to make a movement as if to strike a blow but without doing\nit. The Green Knight had appointed his \u2018grene chapelle\u2019 as the place\nwhere Sir Gawayne was to receive this blow, and it proves to be \u2018nobot\nan olde caue, Or a creuisse of an olde cragge\u2019:\n\n    Now i-wysse [of a truth], quod Wowayn, wysty is here.\n                                                       l. 2189.\n\nThis word \u2018wysty\u2019 is translated in the Glossary by: desert, waste, but\nwith a query; the marginal paraphrase gives: \u2018a desert is here.\u2019 The\nword does not, as far as I know, occur in any other literary monument,\nbut it has been preserved in the poet\u2019s native dialect, cp. _wisty_\n(Lan. Chs.), spacious, empty, bare, large, often used in the sense of\nneedlessly spacious. This meaning is exactly in accordance with the rest\nof the speech, and it adds a realistic touch, which was wanting in\n\u2018desert\u2019. Sir Gawayne was looking into the chapel, and he sees it all\nbig, and bare, and empty--it was an uncanny place:\n\n    Now I fele hit is \u00fee fende, in my fyue wytte\u021d,\n    \u00deat hat\u021d stoken [set] me \u00feis steuen [tryst], to strye [destroy]\n       me here.\n      ...\n    Hit is \u00fee corsedest kyrk, \u00feat euer I com inne.\n                                                    ll. 2193-6.\n\n[Sidenote: _Cleanness_]\n\nIn the poem called _Cleanness_, beginning with the parable of the\nMarriage Feast, occurs the word \u2018trasches\u2019:\n\n    For what vr\u00fely ha\u00feel [man] \u00feat hy\u021d honour halde\u021d\n    Wolde lyke, if a ladde com ly\u00feerly [badly] attyred.\n      ...\n    With rent cokre\u021d [gaiters] at \u00fee kne & his clutte [clouted]\n      trasches.--ll. 35-40.\n\nThe Glossary gives: \u2018Trasches = trauses or trossers, ... trousers?\u2019 and\nStratmann\u2019s _Dictionary_ favours the same suggestion, but there is no\nlonger any doubt that the word is correct as it stands, and that it is\nthe same as the modern _trash_ (w.Yks. Lan. Chs. Stf. Der.), an old\nworn-out boot, shoe, or slipper. The combination \u2018cockers and trashes\u2019\nappears in Grose\u2019s _Provincial Glossary_, 1790: \u2018Cockers and Trashes.\nOld stockings without feet, and worn-out shoes. North.\u2019 The next line of\nthe poem runs:\n\n    & his tabarde to-torne & his tote\u021d oute.--l. 41.\n\nHere both the Glossary and Dictionary suggest that \u2018tote\u021d\u2019 is a corrupt\nform meaning \u2018toes\u2019, the suggestion being made to fit the word \u2018oute\u2019,\nregardless of the fact that the lad\u2019s feet had already been described\nin the previous line. In all probability \u2018his tote\u021d oute\u2019 means: his\nlocks disordered, hanging loosely about, cp. _tot_ (Lan. Sus. Hmp.\nSom.), in forms _tooat_, _tote_ (Lan.), a tuft, as of grass, hair, &c.\nThe poem _Patience_ is the story of Jonah, enlarged, and pointed with\na moral. When Jonah is told to rise up quickly and take his way to\nNineveh, he fears the consequences:\n\n    I com [if I came] wyth \u00feose ty\u00feynges, \u00feay ta [take] me bylyue,\n    Pyne\u021d me in a prysoun, put me in stokkes,\n    Wry\u00fee [bind] me in a warlok, wrast out myn y\u021den.--ll. 78-80.\n\n[Sidenote: _Patience_]\n\nBoth Glossary and Dictionary translate \u2018warlok\u2019 by prison, which,\nbesides being a superfluous repetition of \u2018prisoun\u2019 in the preceding\nline, does not harmonize with the verb \u2018wry\u00fee\u2019. A far better sense is\ngained by taking \u2018warlok\u2019 to mean chain, fetter, cp. _warlock_ (Lan.\nChs. Som.), to tighten the rope or chain which binds the load upon a\nwagon; sb. a method of tightening the rope or chain of a wagon-load, the\nfastening thus made, cp. \u2018Warloke, or fetyr lock: Sera pedicalis uel\ncompedalis,\u2019 _Prompt. Parv._ circa 1440.\n\nThese are only a few examples out of very many which could have been\ncited from these fourteenth-century poems alone, to illustrate the way\nin which the study of modern dialects helps us to a better\nunderstanding and appreciation of our older literature.\n\n[Sidenote: _Surnames and Place-names_]\n\nBefore leaving the subject of the preservation of old words in the\ndialects, one other store-chamber of words no longer current in the\nstandard speech is worth a passing notice. Many old words which have\nceased to be used as common nouns, have become crystallized in surnames,\nand it is interesting to compare them with the existing cognates in the\ndialects. I am aware that any attempt to go etymologizing among surnames\nor place-names is treading on dangerous ground. It is so easy to rush in\nwith a fair sounding derivation, which is in reality nothing more than a\nworthless guess. I shall not, therefore, venture far afield.\n\nAmongst the names here brought together, I have not included those\nwhich have now no living representative, as for example: Hordern, which\nis the O.E. _hord-\u00e6rn_, a treasury, a storeroom, lit. a hoard-house.\nThe word _\u00e6rn_ is, as far as I know, wholly obsolete, all except its\nfinal _n_ remaining in _barn_, literally, a barley-house. Or again,\nNewbottle, Newbold, which contain the forms O.E. _botl_, _bold_, a\nhouse, a dwelling, now no longer used as a simple word, remaining only\nin surnames and place-names.\n\n[Sidenote: _Words denoting Occupations_]\n\nThe O.E. suffix _-estre_ was originally used in forming feminine\n_nomina agentis_, but already in later O.E. we find _b\u00e6cestre_ used\nto denote a male as well as a female baker, the name changing hands\nwith the trade. During the M.E. period _-estre_ became _-ster_ and was\nfelt to be only an emphatic form of the masculine _-er_, and could be\nused indifferently for men or women, so that when baking, brewing,\ndyeing, weaving, &c., ceased to be feminine pursuits, the terms\nbakester, brewester, litester, webster ceased to convey any tinge of\nfeminine gender, and in course of time they became the surnames Baxter,\nBrewster, Litster, Webster. To sit and spin was, however, an occupation\nto which the ladies held undisputed claim, and spinster continued to\ndesignate a woman as distinct and apart from a man, even when the\ntrade was forgotten, so the term has never become a surname. As a\ncommon noun _backster_ for baker is known in a few northern dialects,\nbut its use is dying out. In the form _bakester_ it is, however,\nused in Cornwall. In the same districts _brewster_ for brewer holds\na similar position. _Litster_ for dyer is practically obsolete now,\nthough the verb _lit_, to dye, remains in Scotland and the North. It\nis a Scandinavian word, from O.N. _lita_, to dye, already occurring in\nM.E., cp. \u2018That thi fote be littid in blode,\u2019 Hampole, _c._ 1330, _Ps._\nlxvii. 25. _Webster_ belongs also to Scotland and the North, but it is\nrapidly disappearing in favour of the ordinary word weaver. Where the\nA.V. has: \u2018My days are swifter than a weaver\u2019s shuttle,\u2019 _Job_ vii. 6,\nWyclif wrote: \u2018My daies passiden swiftliere thanne a web is kit down of\na webstere.\u2019\n\n[Sidenote: _Words denoting Physical Features_\n           _Streams, Meadows, Woods, &c._\n           _Todhunter_]\n\nThe name Brewis means broth, pottage, cp. _brewis_, _browis_ (Sc.\nNhb. Yks. Lan. Chs. Wal. Der. Shr.), broth, or bread soaked in hot\nwater, gravy, &c., originally a French word, O.Fr. _broez_, broth, in\nM.E. _brouis_, _brois_, cp.:\n\n    And y shal yeue \u00fee ful fair bred,\n    And make \u00fee broys in \u00fee led.--_Havelok_, ll. 923, 924.\n\nBentley is the grassy meadow, Broadbent, the broad field, or hill-side,\ncp. _bent_ (Sc. Irel. and in gen. use in n. and midl. counties and\ne.An.), any coarse grass, especially that found on moorlands or near\nthe sea, also a sandy hillock or knoll covered with coarse grass,\na hill-side. The word is used by Chaucer, and by many other early\nwriters. Brock means a badger, cp. _brock_ (Sc. Irel. n. counties to\nChs., also Lin. Lei., &c.), a badger; but the word is obsolescent.\nChapman is a word that occurs frequently in M.E. literature, meaning\nmerchant, trader. It is closely connected with _cheap_, and _chaffer_,\ncp. _chapman_ (Sc. Irel. Yks. Lan. Lei. Nhp. Shr. e.An.), a pedlar,\na small dealer. Clough, Fairclough, signifies a ravine, cp. _clough_\n(n.Cy. dialects), a ravine, chasm, narrow glen. It occurs in Barbour\u2019s\n_Bruce_ (1375) in the form _clewch_: \u2018In a clewch ... All his archeres\nenbuschit he,\u2019 xvi. 386. Garth is the Norse form of our word _yard_,\ncp. _garth_ (Sc. Nhb. Dur. Cum. Wm. Yks. Lan. Not. Lin. Nhp.), a small\npiece of enclosed ground, usually beside a house, O.N. _gar\u00f0r_, a small\nenclosure of land. Ginnell is probably the same word as O.Fr. _chenel_,\nor _chanel_, a channel, cp. _ginnell_ (Cum. Wm. Yks. Lan. Chs.), a\nnarrow passage or entry between buildings. In Scotland it denotes a\nsmall channel for water, a street gutter. Greaves is an old form of\n_groves_, cp. _greave_ (Irel. Lan.), a grove, a division of a forest,\nO.E. _gr\u01e3fa_, a bush. Chaucer has the word in a well-known passage:\n\n      The busy larke, messager of daye,\n    Salueth in hire song the morwe graye;\n    And fyry Phebus ryseth up so brighte,\n    That al the orient laugheth of the lighte,\n    And with his stremes dryeth in the greves\n    The silver dropes, hongyng on the leeves.\n                                    _Knightes Tale_, ll. 633-8.\n\n[Sidenote: _Streams, Meadows, Woods, &c._]\n\nHayward means literally hedge-warden, cp. _hayward_ (Chs. Lin. Wor. Glo.\nOxf. Bdf. Sus. Hmp. Dor. Som.), a manorial officer whose duty it is to\nsee that fences are kept in repair, to look after the stock, and to\nimpound stray cattle. One of the earliest instances of the use of the\nword in M.E. occurs in the _Ancren Riwle_ (_c._ 1210), or Rule of Nuns,\nwhere reasons are given in support of the Rule that a nun should keep no\nbeast but a cat only. Among the worldly cares and employments which\nwould come upon her if she were to keep a cow, is that she would have to\nflatter the \u2018heiward\u2019. Holt, Hurst, Shaw are common words in the\ndialects for wood, copse, O.E. _holt_, _hyrst_, _scaga_, cp. \u2018Gaillard\nhe was as goldfinch in the shaws,\u2019 _Cokes Tale_, l. 3. Inge means a\nmeadow, cp. _ing_ (Nhb. Dur. Cum. Wm. Yks. Lan. Not. Lin. e.An. Ken.\nSur. Sus.), a meadow, pasture, especially low-lying land by the side of\na stream or river, M.E. _eng_, O.N. _eng_. Kemp originally meant a\nfighter, cp. _kemp_ (Sc. Nhb. Cum. Wm.), a champion, a bold impetuous\nperson, O.E. _cempa_, a soldier, warrior, O.N. _kempa_, M.E. _kempe_, a\nsoldier, a champion. In the _Lay of Havelok_ (_c._ 1280) we read\nconcerning \u2018\u00fee starke laddes\u2019 who \u2018putten with a mikel ston\u2019:\n\n    Hwo so mithe putten \u00feore\n    Biforn a-no\u00feer, an inch or more,\n    Wore he yung, or wore he hold,\n    He was for a kempe told.--ll. 1033-6.\n\n[Sidenote: _Todhunter_]\n\nMurgatroyd, the moor-gate-royd, means the moor-way clearing. This\n_gate_ has nothing to do with _gate_, an opening, but we have it in\n_gait_, with specialized meaning. It is from O.N. _gata_, a way, cp.\n_gate_ (var. dial. uses in Sc. Irel. and Eng.), a way, path, road. It\nis very common in M.E. writings. _-royd_ is related to Icel. _ru\u00f0_,\na clearing in a wood, cp. _royd_ (Yks. Lan.), a clearing in a wood,\nnow generally found in place-names and field-names. Pargeter means a\nplasterer, and is borrowed from French, cp. _parget_ (n.Cy. Yks. Lan.\nChs. Lin. Nhp. War. Hrf. Glo. Ken. Sur. Sus. Som.), to plaster with\ncement or mortar, also to whitewash; _pargeter_, a plasterer. Fr.\n(Norm. dial.) _porjeter_, cr\u00e9pir, couvrir une muraille d\u2019un enduit,\nO.Fr. (Norm.) _pargeter_, projeter, jeter et r\u00e9pandre en avant. Wyclif\nhas: \u2018Seie thou to hem that pargiten without temperure, that it schal\nfalle doun,\u2019 _Ezek._ xiii. 11. Ruddock denotes a robin, cp. _ruddock_\n(n.Cy. Nhb. Yks. War. Wor. Suf. Ken. Wil. Dor. Som. Dev. Cor.), the\nrobin, O.E. _rudduc_. Chaucer mentions \u2018the tame ruddok\u2019 in his\n_Parliament of Foules_. Rutherford means cattle-ford; the more common\nform of the word is found in Rotherhithe, literally cattle-harbour,\ncp. _rother_ (n.Cy. Lan. War. Wor. Hrf. Sus.), a horned beast, horned\ncattle. John of Trevisa, writing of this country in 1387, says:\n\u2018\u00deis ylond ys best to brynge for\u00fe tren, & fruyt, & ro\u00feeron, & o\u00feere\nbestes.\u2019 Slade means a valley, a hollow, a grassy plain between hills,\nthe side or slope of a hill, and is found in many dialects. Snell\nis originally an adjective, meaning quick, prompt, cp. _snell_ (Sc.\nIrel. Nhb. Dur. Cum. Wm. Yks. Lin.), quick, sharp, acute, keen; and\nof the weather: cold, piercing, O.E. _snell_, quick, active. Souter\nmeans a shoemaker, cp. _souter_ (Sc. n.Cy. Yks. Nhp.), a shoemaker,\na cobbler, O.E. _s\u016btere_ (from Lat. _sutor_), M.E. _soutere_, cp.\n\u2018A somer-game of souteres,\u2019 _P. Plow._ Bk. V, 413. Todhunter is the\nfox-hunter, cp. _tod_ (Sc. Irel. Nhb. Cum. Wm. Yks. Lan. Lin.), a fox.\nAn early occurrence of the word is found in one of Ben Jonson\u2019s poems.\nWong means a field, cp. _wong_ (Yks. Not. Lin. Lei. Nhp.), a field, a\nmeadow, low-lying land, O.E. _wang_, _wong_, a plain, mead, field, M.E.\n_wonge_:\n\n    And \u00fee lond \u00feat \u00feor-til longes,\n    Borwes, tunes, wodes and wonges.\n                                     _Havelok_, ll. 1443, 1444.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER VI\n\nARCHAIC MEANINGS AND FORMS IN THE DIALECTS\n\n\nSo far we have considered only those words which, whether recently or\nlong ago, have left the ranks of standard modern English and become\n\u2018dialect\u2019. But another wide field for study opens up when we come\nto look at common standard English words as they are used in the\ndialects. We shall find that the dialects have frequently preserved a\nwell-authenticated old meaning which we have let slip, and now express\nby some quite different word or phrase. What may now sound to us like\na perverted sense is often historically correct, for whereas learned\ninfluences, the introduction of foreign words--which makes for further\nspecialization and differentiation of meaning--and the general march\nof civilization affecting manners, customs, and habits of thought,\nall tend to divert the normal course of language, the dialects have\nmeanwhile kept the noiseless tenor of their way unmolested. Thus it\nmay often happen that it is we of the literary speech who use a word\nin a perverted or specialized sense, while the unlearned rustic is\nkeeping to one which has been handed down steadily from father to son\nsince the days of Wyclif or Shakespeare, or to go still further back,\nsince the days of Alfred or Chaucer. A few examples of these words\nused with their older meanings are: _able_ (n.Cy. Nhb. Dur. Cum. Wm.\nYks. Lan. War. Hrf.), well-to-do, rich, e.g. Bob\u2019s a yabble chap, he\ncan live wi\u2019oot wahkin\u2019, cp. \u2018Able (wealthy), _opulentis_,\u2019 Coles,\n_Dict._, 1679; _admire_ (Irel. Wm. Yks. Chs. Lei. Nhp. War. Oxf.\nSom.), to wonder at, notice with astonishment: e.g. Yan wad admire\nhow yau gits sec cauds [such colds], or used with _at_: Ah caan\u2019t bud\nadmire at t\u2019waay he did it. Cp. \u2018Admire not in thy mind, why I do call\nthee so,\u2019 _Twelfth Night_, III. iv. 165. The word is frequently used\nin this sense in Jervas\u2019 Translation of _Don Quixote_ (1742), e.g.\n\u2018The duchess could not forbear laughing to hear the simplicity of her\nduenna, nor admiring to hear the reasonings and proverbs of Sancho\u2019;\n\u2018he admired at the length of his horse,\u2019 vol. ii, p. 272, l. 6; p. 120,\nl. 15, World\u2019s Classics edit. Cp. \u2018I wondered with great admiration,\u2019\nA.V. _Rev._ xvii. 6. _Anatomy_ (in gen. use throughout dials. except\nin se. counties), a skeleton, a very thin emaciated person, e.g. She\u2019s\ndwinnel\u2019t away til a atomy, \u2019Er little un\u2019s nuth\u2019n but a natomy, cp.\n\u2018They brought one Pinch, a hungry lean-faced villain, A mere anatomy,\u2019\n_Com. Err._ V. i. 238; _baby_ (Dur. Wm. Lan. Lin.), a doll, cp. \u2018The\nbaby of a girl,\u2019 _Macb._ III. iv. 106, and:\n\n    Whilst all the house my passion reads,\n      In papers round her baby\u2019s hair.\n  Matt. Prior, _To a Child of Quality, Five Years Old_, 1704.\n        _The Author then Forty_, ll. 15, 16.\n\n[Sidenote: _Examples of Archaic Meanings_]\n\n_Bachelor_ (Irel.), an admirer, a suitor, cp. \u2018broom-groves, Whose\nshadow the dismissed bachelor loves,\u2019 _Temp._ IV. i. 67; _bid_ (Sc. Nhb.\nDur. Cum. Wm. Yks. Lan. Stf. Der.), to invite, especially to a wedding\nor funeral, hence: _bidden-wedding_, one to which a large number of\nguests are invited, and as at a penny-wedding, expected to contribute,\ncp. \u2018As many as ye finde, byd them to the mariage,\u2019 Tindale, 1534,\n_Matt._ xxii. 9; _bravery_ (War. Brks.), splendour, fine clothes, cp.\n\u2018With scarfs and fans and double change of bravery,\u2019 _T. of Shrew_, IV.\niii. 57; _bride-ale_ (n.Cy. Som.), a wedding feast, O.E. _br\u0233d-ealo_;\n_budget_ (Sc. Nhb. Yks. Lan. Stf. Not. Shr. Wil. Dor.), a workman\u2019s bag,\ngenerally made of leather, especially a tinker\u2019s wallet, Fr. _bougette_,\nsac de cuir que l\u2019on portait en voyage. There is an old saying in\nNottinghamshire: Yer mun wait while [till] yer get it, like the tinker\nan\u2019 \u2019is budget, alluding to the frequent pawning of the budget, to pay\nfor the tinker\u2019s board and lodging, cp.:\n\n    If tinkers may have leave to live,\n      And bear the sow-skin budget.\n                                 _Wint. Tale_, IV. iii. 19, 20.\n\n[Sidenote: _Dizzy, Fond, Foul_]\n\nIn a treatise on English Dogs translated from Latin in 1570, we read:\n\u2018This kind of dog is called, in like manner, Canis Sarcinarius; in\nLatin, and may aptly be Englished, a Tinker\u2019s Cur. Because with\nmarvellous patience, they bear big budgets fraught with tinker\u2019s tools\nand metal meet to mend kettles, porridge-pots, skillets, and chafers.\u2019\n\n_Burrow_ (Nhp. War. Wor. Shr. Hrf. Glo. Oxf. Bck. Wil.), shelter from\nthe sun or wind, cp. \u2018A burrow (covert), _latibulum_,\u2019 Coles, _Dict._,\n1679; _child_ (Lan. Shr. Glo. Oxf.), a female child, a girl, cp. \u2018Mercy\non\u2019s, a barne; a very pretty barne! A boy or a child, I wonder?\u2019 _Wint.\nT._ III. iii. 71; _dizzy_ (Sc. Nhb. Yks. Chs. War. Shr. e.An.), foolish,\nstupid, half-witted, O.E. _dysig_, M.E. _dysy_, foolish; _enough_ (Yks.\nLan. Lin.), used elliptically for enough cooked, e.g. T\u2019beef\u2019s enough,\ncp. \u2018He took his simples, and made a compound of them, mixing them\ntogether, and boiling them a good while, until he thought they were\nenough,\u2019 _Don Quix._ i. 134, Jervas; _fond_ (Sc. Irel. Nhb. Dur. Cum.\nWm. Yks. Lan. Not. Lin. e.An.), foolish, silly, daft; a very common\nsimile is: as fond as a besom. There is an old English proverb: He\u2019s a\nfond chapman that comes the day after the fair. The substantive\n_fondness_, foolishness, nonsense, occurs in Wyclif\u2019s Bible: \u2018And in the\nprofetis of Samarie Y si\u021d fonnednesse,\u2019 _Jer._ xxiii. 13. _Foul_ (Yks.\nLan. Chs. Der. Not. Lin. War. Wor. Shr.), ugly, e.g. There never wur a\nfou\u2019 face but there wur a fou\u2019 fancy to match it; Fawn-freckles han made\na vow They\u2019ll noan come on a face that\u2019s feaw, cp. \u2018Fairing the foul\nwith art\u2019s false borrow\u2019d face,\u2019 Shaks. _Sonnet_ cxxvii. 6. _Frame_ (n.\ncountry dials.), to set about doing anything, to prepare, &c. Cp.\nMilton:\n\n    The nations all whom Thou hast made\n      Shall come, and all shall frame\n    To bow them low before Thee, Lord,\n      And glorify Thy name.--_Ps._ lxxxvi, ll. 29-32.\n\n_Garret_ in the sense of watch-tower, is obsolete now, but remained in\nNewcastle-on-Tyne into last century, cp. \u2018garyte\u021d ful gaye gered\nbi-twene,\u2019 _Sir Gaw._, l. 791, O.Fr. _garite_, a tower on the walls of a\ntown; _gossip_ (Sc. Irel. Yks. Lan. Lin. Lei. War. Shr. Hrf. Suf. Som.\nDev. Cor.), a godparent, a sponsor at baptism, O.E. _godsibb_, a\nsponsor; _haunt_ (Sc. Nhb. Dur. Yks. Chs. Som.), a custom, practice,\ne.g. at your oud hants, at your old habits, cp. \u2018Of cloth-makyng she\nhadde such an haunt,\u2019 Chaucer, _Prol._ l. 447; _hind_ (n. dials. also\nSus. Dev. Cor.), a farm-labourer, servant, or bailiff. The final _d_ is\nexcrescent, and the word is formed from O.E. _h\u012b(g)na_, gen. pl. of\n_h\u012bwa_, _h\u012bga_, member of a family, servant, M.E. _hine_, cp.:\n\n    Ther nas baillif, ne herde, ne other hyne,\n    That he ne knew his sleighte and his covyne [deceit].\n                                             _Prol._ ll. 603-4.\n\n[Sidenote: _Hugger-mugger, Lead, Learn_]\n\n_In hugger-mugger_ (Sh.I. Nhb. Yks. Der. Suf. Dev.), clandestinely,\nprivately, in a sneaking way, cp. \u2018that his body should be honourably\nburied, and not in hugger-mugger, _et non point \u00e0 cachettes_,\u2019 North\u2019s\n_Plutarch_, 1579, cp. _Hamlet_, IV. v. 67; _imp_ (Sc. Dur. Cum. Yks.\nHrf. Rdn. Dev.), a shoot from a tree or fence, a sucker, an ingrafted\nslip, O.E. _impa_, a sucker, scion; _lead_ (Sh.I. Sc. Nhb. Dur. Cum.\nYks. Lan. Chs. Der. Not. Lin. Rut. War. Shr.), to carry, cart, convey\ngoods by cart, used especially of corn or hay, O.E. _l\u01e3dan_, M.E.\n_leden_, to lead, to carry, cp.:\n\n    With him ther was a Ploughman, was his brother,\n    That hadde i-lad of dong ful many a fother [load].\n                                          _Prol._ ll. 529, 530.\n\n_Learn_ (gen. dials.), to teach, e.g. \u2019E nivver larnt me nowt, he never\ntaught me anything. In O.E. the two verbs _l\u01e3ran_, to teach, and\n_leornian_, to learn, were kept quite separate in meaning, but already\nin M.E. _lernen_ sometimes took over the sense of _leren_. Chaucer has:\n\u2018To lerne a lewed [ignorant] man this subtilte,\u2019 _Chanounes Yemannes\nTale_, l. 844, cp. \u2018Lead me forth in thy truth and learn me,\u2019 _Prayer\nBook_, _Ps._ XXV. 4. In a Northamptonshire churchyard, there is an\nepitaph on a village singing-master, dated 1729, which runs as follows:\n\n    He larned singing far and near,\n      Full twenty years and more;\n    But fatal death hath stopt his breth,\n      And he can larn no more.\n\n[Sidenote: _A \u2018painful\u2019 Preacher_]\n\n_Like_ (Sc. n.Cy. Yks.), to please, be agreeable to, e.g. If it likes\nthem to do it, let them do it. In O.E. this verb was always used\nimpersonally in this sense, but during the M.E. period it came to be\nused personally as well. _Lodge_ (Sc. Irel. Yks. Chs. War. Shr. Oxf.\nBrks. Ken. Sur. Sus. Wil.), of corn or grass: to lie flat, to be beaten\ndown by wind and rain, generally used in the past participle, cp. \u2018Like\nto the summer\u2019s corn by tempest lodged,\u2019 _2 Hen. VI_, III. ii. 176;\n_loft_ (n. counties and midl.), the upper floor of a house of two\nstories, an upper room, cp. \u2018Eutychus ... fell down from the third loft,\nand was taken up dead,\u2019 A.V. _Acts_ xx. 9; _meat_ (in gen. dial. use in\nSc. Irel. Eng.), food in general, victuals, also used as a verb, e.g.\nWell, ya see, ma\u2019am, he meats hissen, an\u2019 ah weshes him, i.e. he finds\nhis own food, and I wash for him, O.E. _mete_, food. We are all familiar\nwith the word in this sense in the proverb: One man\u2019s meat is another\nman\u2019s poison, and in the Bible, cp. \u2018And if thou bring an oblation of a\nmeat offering baken in the oven, it shall be unleavened cakes of fine\nflour mingled with oil, or unleavened wafers anointed with oil,\u2019 A.V.\n_Lev._ ii. 4. _Nephew_ (Ken.), a grandson. This meaning occurs in\nShakespeare, and several times in the Bible, cp. \u2018And he had forty sons,\nand thirty nephews,\u2019 with the marginal note: \u2018Heb. sons\u2019 sons,\u2019 A.V.\n_Judges_ xii. 14. Dr. Johnson gives it, but as an archaism: \u2018The\ngrandson. Out of use.\u2019 Similarly _niece_ (Ken.) is used to signify a\ngranddaughter, cp. _Rich. III_, IV i. 1. _Owe_ (Sh.I. Irel. n.Cy. Cum.\nYks. e.An. w.Cy.), to own, possess, e.g. Let ta awe ta, an\u2019 ta tither,\nlet the one person possess the one, and the other person the remaining\none, O.E. _\u0101gan_, cp. \u2018the noblest grace she owed,\u2019\n\n_Temp._ III. i. 45; _painful_ (Yks. Chs.), painstaking, hardworking,\nactive, cp. \u2018Such servants are oftenest painfull and good,\u2019 Tusser,\n_Husb._, 1580. An inscription on a memorial brass dated 1639 begins\nthus:\n\n      The body of Henry Rogers\n    A painful preacher in this church\n        Two and thirty yeeres.\n\n[Sidenote: _Archaic Meanings_]\n\n_Pity_ (Sc. Cum. e.Yks.), impers. it fills one with pity, e.g. It fair\npitied me to see t\u2019poor auld galloway so sairly failed, cp. \u2018It pitieth\nthem to see her in the dust,\u2019 _Prayer Book_, _Ps._ cii. 14; _proper_\n(Sc. Nhb. Glo. e.An. Ken. Hmp. Wil. Dor. Dev. Cor.), handsome, fine,\nwell-grown, cp. \u2018This Ludovico is a proper man,\u2019 _Othello_, IV. iii. 36,\n\u2018they saw he was a proper child,\u2019 A.V. _Heb._ xi. 23; _quick_ (n. and\nmidl. counties), alive, e.g. I thoht thaay was dead last back-end, bud\nthaay\u2019re wick eniff noo, cp. \u2018I had rather be set quick i\u2019 the earth,\u2019\n_Mer. Wives_, III. iv. 90. We are of course familiar with the word in\nthis sense in the Bible and Prayer Book, and in phrases such as: a\nquickset hedge, the quick of the nail, quicksilver, &c. A quickset hedge\nis a living hedge, as distinct from a dead fence or stockade, and the\nyoung thorn-plants for forming such a hedge are known in the dialects as\n_quick_, or _quicks_. The following is an advertisement which appeared\nin the _Oxford Chronicle_: \u2018Quick! Quick!! QUICK!!! for hedgerows.\n1,000,000 for sale,\u2019 February 1, 1901. _Sad_ (many dials.), solid, firm,\ncompact; of bread, pastry, &c.: heavy, close; also: grave, discreet. The\noriginal meaning of O.E. _s\u00e6d_ was satiated, the word being cognate with\nGerman _satt_, e.g. _w\u012bns\u00e6d_, satiated with wine, but already in Middle\nEnglish it came to mean quiet, discreet, solid, cp.:\n\n    In Surrye whylom dwelte a companye\n    Of chapmen riche, and therto sadde and trewe.\n                             _Man of Lawes Tale_, ll. 134, 135.\n\n[Sidenote: _Sad, Serve, Silly, Speed, Tell_]\n\nWyclif has: \u2018And whanne greet flood was maad, the flood was hurtlid to\nthat hous, and it mi\u021dte not moue it, for it was foundid on a sad stoon,\u2019\n_St. Luke_ vi. 48. Similarly, _sadness_ (Yks. Lan. Chs. Lei. War.),\nsolidity, seriousness; _in good sadness_ means in earnest. Shakespeare\nplays upon the two meanings of the word in a well-known passage\nbeginning: \u2018Tell me in sadness, who is that you love,\u2019 _Rom. & Jul._ I.\ni. 205. Connected with these words is the verb _sade_ (n.Cy. Chs. Stf.\nWar. Wor. Shr. Hrf. Glo. w.Cy.), to satiate, also to become weary or\ntired, especially used in the phrase _sick and saded_, O.E. _sadian_,\nto become satiated or weary. _Serve_ (Nhb. Cum. Yks. Lan. Chs. Der. Not.\nLin. War. Wor. Shr. Oxf. Hmp. Wil.), to supply an animal with food, e.g.\nAh\u2019ll gan an\u2019 sarve t\u2019pigs, cp. \u2018See cattle well serued, without and\nwithin, and all thing at quiet ere supper begin,\u2019 Tusser, _Husb._;\n_shed_ (Sc. and n. counties), to part, separate, O.E. _sc\u0101dan_,\n_sc\u0113adan_, to divide, separate, a meaning which is retained in the\nstandard language in the compound _watershed_; _silly_ (Ess. Som.),\nsimple, rustic, (Nhb.) pure, innocent, e.g. The bit bairn\u2019s asleep,\nsilly thing, cp.:\n\n    Perhaps their loves, or else their sheep,\n    Was all that did their silly thoughts so busy keep.\n                                Milton, _Nat. Ode_, ll. 91, 92.\n\nAnother dialect form of the word is _seely_, O.E. _ges\u01e3lig_, happy,\nblessed. _Speed_ (Sc. Yks. Lan. Lin. Glo. Cor.), success, is familiar to\nus in certain phrases and sayings, such as: More haste worse speed. An\nold Lincolnshire parish clerk affirmed that in his young days it was\ncustomary for men, before they began work in the morning, to say: May\nGod speed us well. Another of the fraternity used to call out in church:\nGod speed \u2019em weel, in a high monotone immediately after the publication\nof banns of marriage. _Godspeed_ (Lakel.) is the name for a wooden\nscreen or barrier against the wind within the door, apparently so called\nbecause leave-takings or good-byes were said there. _Spill_ (Sc. Midl.\nKen. Sur. Sus.), to spoil, ruin, destroy, O.E. _spillan_, to destroy;\n_stickler_ (Glo. Som. Dev. Cor.), an umpire, especially an umpire at a\nwrestling-match or bout of singlestick, cp.:\n\n    The dragon wing of night o\u2019erspreads the earth,\n    And stickler-like, the armies separates.\n                              _Troil. & Cres._ V. viii. 18, 19.\n\n_Tell_ (many dials.), to count, reckon up, e.g. Tell them ther ship\n[sheep], \u2019ooll \u2019e, an let I knaw how many ther be on \u2019em, O.E. _tellan_,\nto count, cp.:\n\n    And every shepherd tells his tale,\n    Under the hawthorn in the dale.\n                                       _L\u2019Allegro_, ll. 67, 68.\n\n_Whether_ (Yks. Lan.), which of two, e.g. Wether will ta \u2019ev, this er\nthat? O.E. _hw\u00e6\u00feer_, which of two, cp. \u2018Whether of them twain did the\nwill of his father?\u2019 A.V. _Matt._ xxi. 31; _witty_ (Sc. Yks. Chs. Not.\nLin. Ken. Dev.), wise, knowing, sensible, shrewd, e.g. He\u2019s a witty mon,\nis yander, there\u2019s noo bestin\u2019 him at a bargain, O.E. _wittig_, wise,\ncp.:\n\n    In them I trust; for they are soldiers,\n    Witty, courteous, liberal, full of spirit.\n                                    _3 Hen. VI_, I. ii. 42, 43.\n\n_Wretch_ (War. Wor. Glo. Bck.), used as a term of endearment, sympathy,\nor compassion, e.g. I set a deal o\u2019 store by Lucy, poor wratch! cp.:\n\n    Excellent wretch! Perdition catch my soul,\n    But I do love thee!--_Oth._ III. iii. 90, 91.\n\n[Sidenote: _Preservation of Historical Forms_]\n\nSide by side with these historical meanings preserved in the dialects,\nare the historical forms. Many a word which we meet in the dialects in\nsome unfamiliar shape, can be shown to be no mere vulgar\nmispronunciation or misspelling, but a genuine old form, once under\ndistinguished patronage in our earlier literature. Or again, formations\nwhich appear to be ignorant errors in grammar can be shown to be\ngrammatically regular, the divergence of the standard form being due to\nanalogy, or some other influence. It is surprising to find what a number\nof cases there are where a word in literary English has become corrupt,\nwhilst in the dialects it has followed its normal development. To take\nsome examples of these justifiable dialect forms: _alablaster_ (n. and\nmidl. counties) for alabaster, e.g. It\u2019s a straange nist bairn, it\u2019s\nskin\u2019s that clear it\u2019s like alablaster, cp.:\n\n    Why should a man, whose blood is warm within,\n    Sit like his grandsire cut in alablaster?\n                                        _M. Ven._ I. i. 83, 84.\n\n[Sidenote: _Crowner, Laylock, Showl_]\n\nThis was the general spelling of alabaster in the sixteenth and\nseventeenth centuries. _Apricock_ (n.Cy. Lan. Lin. Lei. Nhp. War. Shr.\nHrf.) for apricot, cp. \u2018Yond dangling apricocks,\u2019 _Rich. II_, III. iv.\n29. The word came originally from the Portuguese _albricoque_, and\nthe change from the final _ck_ to _t_ was due to the French cognate\n_abricot_. _Crowner_ (in gen. dial. use in Irel. and Eng.) for coroner,\ne.g. I do lot as they\u2019l \u2019ave a crowner\u2019s quest on he, cp. \u2018Crowner\u2019s\nquest law,\u2019 _Ham._ V. i. 24. _Laylock_ (in gen. dial. use in Eng.)\nfor lilac, cp. \u2018The Lelacke Tree,\u2019 Bacon, _Essays_, ed. 1625. Our\npronunciation _lilac_ is borrowed from those dialects where _byby_ is\nthe normal pronunciation of _baby_. We have erred in the same direction\nin discarding the older _obleege_ (now confined to the dialects) in\nfavour of the modern _oblige_. The correct pronunciation of the French\n_\u012b_ is that in _machine_. _Newelty_ (Nhp. Oxf. Bdf. Hnt. e.An. Som.)\nfor novelty, e.g. Well! there idn very much newelty in thick there\ncontraption like, cp. \u2018_Novella_, a tale, a parable, or a neweltee,\u2019\nThomas, _Italian Grammar_, 1562. _Shool_ or _showl_ (in gen. dial.\nuse in Sc. Irel. Eng.) for shovel, cp. \u2018Item, j. dressyng knyfe, j.\nfyre showle,\u2019 _Paston Letters_, 1459. This must have been the proper\npronunciation when the nursery rhyme _Cock Robin_ was composed:\n\n      I, said the Owl,\n    With my spade and _showl_ [mod. edits, _shovel_]\n      I\u2019ll dig his grave.\n\n[Sidenote: _\u2018Ballet\u2019 and \u2018Sallet\u2019_]\n\nSimilarly, comparison with the dialects restores correct rhyme to the\n_water_: _after_ in _Jack and Jill_, and correct metre to: \u2018Mary,\nMary, quite contrary.\u2019 _Abear_ for bear, endure, is widely diffused\nthrough the dialects. It is O.E. _\u0101beran_, to endure, suffer, a form\nwhich apparently dropped out of the literary language in the thirteenth\ncentury, but which has lived on ever since in the spoken dialects.\n_Affodil_ or _affrodile_ (Chs.) for daffodil is found in Cotgrave:\n\u2018_Affrodille_, th\u2019 Affodille or Asphodill flower.\u2019 It is, in fact,\netymologically the correct form, from a M.Lat. _affodillus_, Lat.\n_asphodilus_, and the prefixed _d_ of the standard form has yet to be\nsatisfactorily explained. _Disgest_ (in gen. dial. use in Sc. Irel.\nand Eng.) for digest was the common form in literary English in the\nsixteenth and seventeenth centuries. _Haviour_ (Sc. Yks. Chs.) for\nbehaviour occurs in Spenser; \u2018Her heavenly haveour, her princely\ngrace,\u2019 _Shepherd\u2019s Cal._, 1579. _Overlive_ (Lan. Der. Rut. Lei. Nhp.)\nfor outlive occurs in Shakespeare and in the Bible: \u2018And Israel served\nthe Lord all the days of Joshua, and all the days of the elders that\noverlived Joshua,\u2019 A.V. _Josh._ xxiv. 31. _Ballet_ (Cum. Yks. Lan.\nChs. Der. Nhp. War. Shr. Hrf. Brks. Ess. Ken. Sus. Wil. Som. Dev.) for\nballad is a corruption common in the literary language in the sixteenth\nand seventeenth centuries, cp. \u2018The Ballet of Ballets of Solomon,\u2019\nBishops\u2019 Bible, 1568; \u2018I occasioned much mirth by a ballet I brought\nwith me made from the seamen at sea to their ladies in town,\u2019 Pepys\u2019\n_Diary_, Jan. 2, 1665. In like manner the form _sallet_ for salad\nremains in the dialects. _Brinded_ (Der. Not. Wil. Som.) for brindled\nrecalls the well-known line: \u2018Thrice the brinded cat hath mew\u2019d,\u2019\n_Macb._ IV. i. 1. _Darkling_ (Sc. Yks. Lin.) for in the dark is used by\nShakespeare and by Milton, cp. \u2018The wakeful bird sings darkling,\u2019 _Par.\nLost_, iii. 39. _Flannen_ (in gen. dial. use in Sc. Irel. and Eng.) is\nthe correct form for flannel, from Welsh _gwlanen_, woollen material,\ncp. \u2018She found Dorus, apparelled in flanen,\u2019 Sydney, _Arcadia_, c.\n1585. _Lovier_ (e.An. Dor. Som.) for lover carries us back to Chaucer\u2019s\n\u2018yong Squyer\u2019 who was: \u2018A lovyere, and a lusty bacheler,\u2019 _Prol._ l.\n80. _Margent_ (Sc. Yks. e.An.) for margin, with excrescent _t_, is a\nShakespearian form. Jeremy Taylor has: \u2018She was arrested with a sorrow\nso great as brought her to the margent of her grave,\u2019 _Holy Living_,\n1650. _Neglection_ (Glo. Suf.) for neglect, and _robustious_ (Sc. n.Cy.\nI.Ma. War.) for robust, are both to be found in Shakespeare\u2019s Plays;\ncp. also Milton:\n\n        ... these redundant locks\n    Robustious to no purpose, clustering down.\n                                _Sam. Agonistes_, ll. 568, 569.\n\n_Ruinate_ for ruin is now so common that it is a colloquialism rather\nthan dialect. Johnson gives quotations for it from Shakespeare and other\nauthors, but says: \u2018This word is now obsolete.\u2019\n\nSometimes a dialect form which sounds like a corruption, is in reality\na different word from the standard form with which we associate it, for\nexample: _meese_ (Glo. Wil. Dor. Som. Dev. Cor.), moss, is not a\ncorruption of _moss_, but the regular descendant of O.E. _m\u0113os_, the\nliterary form being probably a Scandinavian import. _Rivel_ (War. Wor.\nShr. Hrf. Glo. Dor.), to shrivel, is from M.E. _rivelen_, to wrinkle,\nwhilst _shrivel_ is of different origin. Shakespeare uses both words.\n_Shill_ (Sc. Dur. Yks. Nhp. Dor.), shrill, is from O.E. _scill_,\nsonorous, etymologically quite distinct from _shrill_. Quite distinct\ntoo is the dialect _lew-warm_ (in gen. dial. use in Sc. Irel. and Eng.),\nfrom the standard _lukewarm_, tepid, cp. \u2018Thou art lew, and nether cold,\nnether hot,\u2019 Wyclif, _Rev._ iii. 16.\n\n[Sidenote: _Phonological Differences_]\n\nOr again, the difference between the dialect and the standard word\nmay be traced back to a grammatical or phonological variation in the\nO.E. period, resulting in the development of two distinct types side\nby side, one of which came to be preserved in the literary language\nand the other in the spoken dialects. Among such are: _ax_ (in gen.\ndial. use in Sc. Irel. and Eng.), beside _ask_, O.E. _\u0101csian_, _\u0101xian_,\nbeside the non-metathesized form _\u0101scian_. The common dialect form\n_cowslop_ for our _cowslip_ goes back to O.E. _c\u016b-sloppe_ beside\n_c\u016b-slyppe_. _Yat_ or _yet_ is more usual in the dialects than _gate_,\nand is perfectly regular. The form in O.E. was _geat_ in the singular,\nwhence correctly _yat_ or _yet_; and _gatu_ in the plural, whence our\n_gate_ with the hard _g_. A farm I knew well near my Herefordshire\nhome was known as \u2018The Three Hats\u2019, apparently a corruption of \u2018The\nThree Yats\u2019, so called from its situation at the junction of three\nfarm-roads, each shut off by a gate. _Gate_ meaning road is, as we have\nalready noticed (p. 75), a Norse loan-word, and not to be confused\nwith _gate_, an opening. _Lat_ (n.Cy. Yks. Lan. Chs. Der. Lei. War.\nWor. Shr.) beside _late_ is the normal descendant of the adjective\nO.E. _l\u00e6t_, beside the adverb O.E. _late_ which has given the standard\nform. _Neist_ (Sc. Nhb. Lakel. Yks. Lan. Der. Nhp. Shr. Hmp. Wil.\nSom. Dev. Cor.), nearest, nighest, beside _next_ goes back to an O.E.\ncontracted form _n\u0113st_, beside the uncontracted _n\u0113hst_, which became\n_next_. _Quid_, which in many dialects is used for our _cud_, is from\nO.E. _cwidu_, beside which was the by-form _cudu_, which gave _cud_.\n_Rew_ (Wor. Sur. Sus. Hmp. I.W. Som. Dev.) beside our _row_ goes back\nto O.E. _r\u01e3w_ beside _r\u0101w_, a row, a line. _Sealch_ (Sc. Irel.) for\n_seal_ is from the O.E. nominative _seolh_, whereas _seal_ is from the\noblique cases where there was no _h_. _Shilder_ (Lan.) for _shoulder_\nis derived from the plural form O.E. _gescyldru_, shoulders. The Scotch\nand North-country _weel_ for the adverb _well_ is from an O.E. _w\u0113l_\nwhich existed beside the form with _e_, whence our _well_.\n\n[Sidenote: _Grammatical Distinctions_]\n\nGrammatical distinctions are frequently kept up in the dialects,\nwhere they have become obliterated in the literary language, for\nexample: _kemb_ (Sc. Nhb. Yks. Lan. Cor.) vb. to comb, beside _comb_\nsubs., in O.E. _cemban_ vb., and _camb_, _comb_ subs. _Keel_ is the\ncommon dialect verb meaning to make cool, in O.E. _c\u0113lan_ vb. beside\n_c\u014dl_ adj. Wyclif has: \u2018Sende Lazarus, that he dippe the ende of his\nfyngur in watir, to kele my tunge,\u2019 _Luke_ xvi. 24. _Snew_ (Irel. Yks.\nLan. Glo. Nrf. Dev.), to snow, to abound, beside _snow_ subs. is from\nO.E. _sn\u012bwan_ vb. beside _sn\u0101w_ subs., cp. \u2018It snewede in his hous of\nmete and drinke,\u2019 Chaucer, _Prol._ l. 345. _Smeeth_ (Nhb. Chs.), to\nsmooth, beside the adj. _smooth_ is from O.E. _sm\u0113\u00f0ian_ vb. The correct\nform of the adjective is found in a few North-country dialects as\n_smeeth_, from O.E. _sm\u0113\u00f0e_ adj.; our _smooth_ is from the O.E. adverb\n_sm\u014d\u00f0e_. A difference of pronunciation of _work_, verb and noun, is\nfound in nearly all dialects; in O.E. _wyrcan_ vb. and _weorc_ subs.\nIn _mean_ (Sc. Nhb. Lakel. Yks. Lan.), moan vb. and subs., the verbal\nform O.E. _m\u01e3nan_ has predominated, whilst in the standard language we\nhave formed our verb from the noun. In _kuss_ (n.Cy. Yks. Lan.) vb. and\nsubs., the dialects have taken the noun form, O.E. _coss_, for both\nuses, whilst the standard language has retained only the verbal one,\nO.E. _cyssan_, to kiss.\n\n[Sidenote: _Retention of old Verbal Forms_]\n\nIn the conjugation of verbs, the dialects have also often retained an\nold formation which has become obsolete in standard English, for\nexample: _afrore_ (sw. counties), frozen, O.E. _gefroren_. Our _frozen_\nhas taken its medial consonant from the stem of the Present. In the\nform _frore_ this word has maintained a fitful existence in poetry ever\nsince Milton wrote: \u2018the parching air Burns frore,\u2019 _Par. Lost_, ii.\n594, but this is merely an archaism. _Forboden_ (Yks.), O.E. _forboden_,\nis strictly correct; our _forbidden_ has been influenced by the vowel of\nthe Infinitive. _Getten_, the dialect past participle of _to get_, is,\nin the same way, the true form grammatically, and _got_ is due to\nanalogy. _Raught_ (Sc. Lan. Chs. Stf. Der. War. Shr. Glo. Brks. Hmp.\nI.W. Som.) is from O.E. _r\u01e3hte_, and might have remained like _taught_,\nbut the standard language has selected the new preterite _reached_, made\nfrom the Infinitive, cp. \u2018He smiled me in the face, raught me his hand,\u2019\n_Hen. V_, IV. vi. 21. _Weared_ (Sc. n.Yks. Nhp. Wor. Som. Dev. Cor.) is\nfrom O.E. _werede_. Chaucer has: \u2018A whit cote and a blew hood werede\nhe,\u2019 _Prol._ l. 564. We have since made a new strong preterite _wore_\non the analogy of _bore_. _Wrought_ (Sc. Irel. Nhb. Dur. Cum. Wm. Yks.\nLan. Der. Suf.), as a preterite and participle, is familiar to us in the\nBible, cp. \u2018He abode with them and wrought,\u2019 _Acts_ xviii. 3, M.E.\n_wrohte_, _wroht_; but the standard language has adopted the newer form\n_worked_, retaining _wrought_ only as an adjective. The common dialect\nadjective _afeared_ or _feared_ for _afraid_ is originally a past\nparticiple, O.E. _\u0101f\u01e3red_, cp. \u2018I am afeard you make a wanton of me,\u2019\n_Ham._ V. ii. 310. To illustrate the use of the word in modern times, a\nDialect Glossary gives the following anecdote: Two ladies, alarmed at\nsome cows that obstructed their path, called a boy to drive them away,\nwhen having been rewarded for his trouble, he said, Would you please to\nbe feared of the sheep too?\n\nThe basis of the standard language is the sound-system of what is\ncalled the Mercian Dialect of the O.E. period, and the East Midland\nDialect of the M.E. period, but occasionally we meet with words\nwhich have been borrowed from some district outside the East Midland\narea, and incorporated into literary English with the characteristic\npronunciation of the district whence they came. For instance, our\npronunciation of _among_ is irregular; we ought to make it rhyme with\n_hang_ or _long_, as it does in various dialects. Our _among_ rhyming\nwith _hung_ is a West Midland form, specially common in Lancashire.\nAgain, our _vat_, _vane_, _vixen_ with initial _v_ are south-western\ndialect forms; the regular standard pronunciation should be _fat_,\n&c., cp. \u2018The fats shall overflow with wine and oil,\u2019 A.V. _Joel_\nii. 24; \u2018pressfat,\u2019 A.V. _Hag._ ii. 16, from O.E. _f\u00e6t_. The forms\n_brize_ (Sc. Nhb. Yks.), from O.E. _br\u0233san_, and _kidgel_ (Nhb. Yks.),\nfrom O.E. _cycgel_, have been ousted from the literary speech by the\nsouth-western _bruise_ and _cudgel_. The common dialect pronunciation\n_bile_ for _boil_ subs., from O.E. _b\u0233l_, would be correct in literary\nEnglish; our form _boil_ is irregular and corrupt.\n\n[Sidenote: _Irregularities in Standard English compared with Dialect\n              Forms_]\n\nThe name of the irregularities in the standard speech is legion, and\nit is an enticing pursuit to hunt for the regular forms in the dialects\nand compare them with their literary cognates. _Bread_ (Sc. Dur. Cum.\nYks. Lan. Chs. Der. Not. Lin. Shr. Pem.), breadth, is the normal\ndevelopment of O.E. _br\u01e3du_; the form _breadth_ has taken over a final\n_-th_ from other abstract nouns such as _length_. _Lin_ (Sc. Irel. and\nn. and w. counties), flax, linen, is the correct representative of\nthe O.E. substantive _l\u012bn_, M.E. _lin_, as we have it in _linseed_;\nour _linen_ is properly an adjective, meaning made of flax. _Mirk_\n(Sc. and n. counties), dark, gloomy, also sb. darkness, gloom, from\nM.E. _mirk(e_, may be used in modern poetry, but the ordinary form\nis _mirky_, _murky_, with the addition of _-y_ from other adjectives\nwhere it was regular. Similarly, _red(d_ (Sc. Irel.) for _ready_,\nand _slipper_ (Som. Dev. Cor.) for _slippery_, cp. O.E. _ge-r\u01e3de_,\n_slipor_. _Sloum_ (Sc. Irel. and n. counties) for _slumber_ is O.E.\n_sl\u016bma_, without the later additions of the frequentative suffix, and\nintrusive _b_. _Peel_ (Glo. Wil. Som. Dev. Cor.) for _pillow_ is from\nthe O.E. nominative _pylu_, whereas from the oblique cases came M.E.\n_pilwe_, whence our _pillow_. _Graff_ (Sc. Yks. Hrf.) for _graft_,\nand _hoise_ (Sc. Irel. Cum. Yks. Lan.) for _hoist_, are both correct\nforms without the additional _t_, which is probably due to confusion\nwith verbal forms in the Past tense, cp. \u2018We\u2019ll quickly hoise Duke\nHumphrey from his seat,\u2019 _2 Hen. VI_, I. i. 169. _Hose_ (Rut. Som.\nDev.) and _haiss_ (Sc.) for _hoarse_ from O.E. _h\u0101s_ are correctly\nwithout the intrusive _r_. _Hollin_ (n. and n. midl. counties) for\n_holly_, and _miln_ (Sc. Yks. Lan. Der. Not. Lin.) for _mill_ have not\nacquired a final _n_, but they retain one which has been lost in the\nstandard forms. The O.E. originals were _hole(g)n_ and _myln_. The\nlatter remains intact in the surnames Milne and Milner. _Ridless_ (Wor.\nShr.) for _riddle_, a conundrum, from O.E. _r\u01e3dels_, preserves the\nfinal _s_ which has been discarded from the literary form, or rather,\nthe _s_ being taken as the sign of the plural, a new singular has been\nformed without it. The same process has given us our _pea_, _burial_,\n_Sherry_, and Bret Harte\u2019s _Chinee_. With these literary examples\nbefore us we cannot find fault with the dialect form _shimmy_ (in gen.\ndial. use in Sc. and Eng.), the supposed singular of _chemise_; or with\n_apse_ (Som. Dev. Cor.), from a plural-sounding _abscess_.\n\nNearly all the dialects have _lat_ for _lath_, regularly developed\nfrom O.E. _l\u00e6tt_, and _latta_, the _th_ in our _lath_ being the\nirregular element. _Lynse-pin_ (War. Sus. Wil. Som. Cor.), from M.E.\n_linse_, an axle, is correct, and our _linch-pin_ is corrupt. _Popple_\n(Wor. Pem. Hmp. I.W. Wil. Dor. Som. Dev. Cor.) represents O.E. _papol_,\nand leaves our _pebble_ to be explained. _Penny-winkle_ (Nhb. Yks.\nDer. War. Brks. Suf. Dev.), the mollusc, from O.E. _pinewincla_ is\nthe correct form beside our corrupt _periwinkle_. The common dialect\npronunciation _kindom_ regularly represents O.E. _cyned\u014dm_, M.E.\n_kinedom_, whereas in our _kingdom_ popular etymology has substituted\nthe well-known word _king_ for the forgotten _cyne_, royal.\n\n[Sidenote: _Standard English Words compared with Dialect Equivalents_]\n\nAmongst these dialect words which differ in form and pronunciation\nfrom their equivalents in the standard language are many French words,\nborrowed several centuries ago either from Old French, or through\nthe medium of Anglo-Norman French. Meanwhile, we of the standard\nspeech have perhaps re-borrowed the word in a more modern shape, or\nre-modelled it after the pattern of its Latin cognate, or, where in\nolder times the standard vocabulary included two forms side by side, we\nhave since discarded one of them, and left it to drop into obscurity.\nRegarded thus, the dialect form can take its legitimate place as the\nsecond half of a doublet, with as good a title to name and fame as the\nhalf that remained in the ranks of the literary vocabulary. There are\nquantities of doublets of this nature still in everyday standard use,\nbut because we are familiar with each half of the pair, we are not\ntempted to regard one of them as vulgar or corrupt because it differs\nfrom the other. Examples of these literary doublets are: caitiff and\ncaptive; mayor and major; parson and person; royal and regal; &c., &c.\nIn all these cases a divergence of meaning has taken place, so that\neach member of the pair maintains a separate existence, but in the\nfollowing examples from the dialects, I have for the most part selected\nthose words where the meaning is the same as that of the literary form:\n_Aunter_ (Cum. Wm. Yks. Lan.), an adventure, a story of adventure,\nan unlikely story, was the common form in M.E. for _adventure_,\ncp. M.E. _antur_, _aunter_, from Anglo-French _aventure_. The form\n_aunters_ (Nhb. Cum. Wm. Yks.), with the addition of an adverbial\n_s_, means perhaps, lest, in case that, cp. \u2018Aunters, peradventure,\u2019\nColes, 1677. _Callenge_ (Glo. I.W. Dor. Som.) for _challenge_ is from\nA.Fr. _calenge_. _Causey_ (in gen. dial. use in Sc. Irel. and Eng.)\nis from A.Fr. _cauc\u00e8_, the standard form _causeway_ is a compound\nof _causey_ and _way_. _Chat_ (Dor. Dev. Cor.), a kitten, is not a\ndialect pronunciation of _cat_, but from Fr. _chat_. _Chieve_ (Nhb.\nYks. Lan. Lin. Nhp.) is an aphetic form of _achieve_ common in M.E.\nwritings. _Corrosy_ (Dev. Cor.), an annoyance, a grudge, is a popular\nform of the learned _corrosive_, something that corrodes or causes\nannoyance. It occurs as far back as Tusser, cp. \u2018So lose ye your\ncost, to your corosie and smart,\u2019 _Husb._, 1580. _Descrive_ (Sc.) is\nfrom O.Fr. _descrivre_, whilst our _describe_ is from the Latin form.\n_Gilliver_ (Sc. Cum. Yks. Lan. Chs. Stf. Der. Not. Lin. Lei. War.)\nfor _gillyflower_ represents M.E. _gilofre_, for O.Fr. _girofre_,\n_girofle_, cp. \u2018Then make your garden rich in gillyvors,\u2019 _Wint. Tale_,\nIV. iv. 98. The form _gillyflower_ is due to a confusion with _flower_.\n_Hamel_ (n.Cy. Nhb. Lan. Chs. Sus.) for _hamlet_ is from O.Fr.\n_hamel_, whilst the standard form goes back to the double diminutive\nO.Fr. _hamelet_. _Inobedient_ (Sc. n.Cy. Som.) beside _disobedient_\nis from O.Fr. _inobedient_, cp. \u2018Adam inobedyent,\u2019 _Cleanness_, l.\n237, _c._ 1360. _Kiver_ (in gen. dial. use in Sc. Irel. and Eng.) for\n_cover_ is from the stressed stem-form _cuev-_ of O.Fr. _covrir_, cp.\n\u2018If oure gospel is kyuerid, in these that perischen it is kyuerid,\u2019\nWyclif, _2 Cor._ iv. 3. _Liver_ (Nhb. Dur. Cum. Wm. Yks. Lan. Der.\nLin.) for _deliver_ is from Fr. _livrer_ beside _d\u00e9livrer_, cp.:\n\n    Ful fast on god bigan \u00feai call,\n    To liuere \u00fee folk of \u00feat onfall.\n                                   _Curs. Mun._ ll. 5942, 5943.\n\n_Marriable_ (Yks. Lan.) for _marriageable_ is from O.Fr. _mariable_.\n_Noy_ (Sc. n.Cy. Yks.) for _annoy_ is an aphetic form common in M.E.\nliterature. _Paise_ (Sc. n. and sw. counties), to weigh, is from O.Fr.\nNorman dialect _peiser_ beside O.Fr. _poiser_, M.E. _peisen_ and\n_poisen_. The common dialect forms _perfit_, _parfit_ are from O.Fr.\n_parfit_, through M.E. _perfit_, _parfit_, whilst our _perfect_ has been\nremodelled to conform with Lat. _perfectus_. _Parsil_ (Sc. n.Cy. Wm.\nYks. Lan.) beside _parsley_ is from Fr. _persil_, M.E. _percel_, beside\n_perceli_, which owes its ending to O.E. _petersilie_. _Pearch_ (Cum.\nYks. Lan. Lin.) for _pierce_ is from O.Fr. Norman dialect _percher_\nbeside O.Fr. _percer_. _Perceivance_ (Yks. e.An.) for _perception_ is\nused by Milton, cp. \u2018The senses and common perceivance might carry this\nmessage to the soul within,\u2019 _Church Government_, 1641, cp. O.Fr.\n_percevance_. _Planch_ (Gmg. Suf. Dor. Som. Dev. Cor.) is from Fr.\n_planche_, whilst our _plank_ is from O.N.Fr. _planke_. _Plat_ (Shet.\nand Ork. I. n.Cy. also sw. counties) for _flat_ is from O.Fr. _plat_,\nwhilst our word is of Scandinavian origin. _Portmantle_ (in gen. dial.\nuse in Sc. and Eng.), compounded from O.Fr. _mantel_, is the old form\ncommon from the sixteenth to the eighteenth century; our _portmanteau_\nis a later borrowing, when the French form was _manteau_. _Provand_ (Sc.\nYks. Lan. Chs.) for _provender_ is from O.Fr. _provende_ beside\n_provendre_, cp. \u2018Than camels in the war, who have their provand Only\nfor bearing burdens,\u2019 _Coriol._ II. i. 267, 268. _Queer_ (Sc. n.Cy.\nDur. Yks. Chs. Lin.) for _choir_ represents the M.E. _quer_, _quere_,\nfrom O.Fr. _cuer_. The standard form should be spelt _quire_, as it is\npronounced, but the orthography has been influenced by the word\n_chorus_. _Ratten_ (Sc. Nhb. Dur. Cum. Wm. Yks. Lan. Chs. Der. Shr.) is\nfrom O.Fr. _raton_, cp. \u2018Wi\u00fe \u00feat ran \u00feere a route of ratones at ones,\u2019\n_Piers Plow._ B, _Prol._ l. 146. Our _rat_ is probably from the O.E.\n_r\u00e6t_. _Remeid_ (Sc. n.Cy. Nhb.) for _remedy_ is from O.Fr. _remede_,\nM.E. _remede_, beside _remedie_ from Anglo-Fr. _remedie_. _Scry_ (Sc.\nNhb. Cum. Yks. Lan. Cor.), to cry, proclaim, is from O.Fr. _escrier_\nbeside _crier_. _Skelet_ (Lin. Cor.) for _skeleton_ is from Fr.\n_scelete_ (Cotgrave), our form is from the Greek word. _Vage_ (Sc. Nhb.\nDur. Yks. Lin. w.Cy.) for _voyage_ is from O.Fr. _veiage_, M.E. _viage_,\n_veage_, cp. \u2018For he was late ycome from his viage,\u2019 Chaucer, _Prol._ l.\n77.\n\n[Sidenote: _Apparent Irregularities due to Scandinavian Influence_]\n\nFurther, there are the dialect words in which the apparent\nirregularity is due to their Scandinavian origin. For example: _boun_\n(Sc. Irel. Nhb. Dur. Cum. Wm. Yks. Lan. Chs. Der. Lin.), e.g. Awm beawn\nto Stopport, I am bound for Stockport, is from O.N. _b\u016binn_, prepared,\nthe past part, of _b\u016ba_, to get ready, M.E. _boun_. Our _bound_ has\nacquired an excrescent _d_, in common with _sound_ sb., and other\nwords. _Dead_ (Sc. Irel. Nhb. Dur. Cum. Wm. Yks. Not. Lin. e.An.) for\n_death_ is from the Norwegian dialect form _d\u00f8d_; the standard English\n_death_ is native, O.E. _d\u0113a\u00f0_. _Drucken_ (Sc. Nhb. Cum. Wm. Yks.\nLan.) for _drunken_ is from the O.N. adjective and past participle\n_drukkin_, drunk. _Garn_ (Nhb. Dur. Cum. Wm. Lan. Stf.) beside _yarn_\nis again the O.N. form beside the English. _Gavel_ (Sc. Irel. Nhb.\nDur. Cum. Yks.) for _gable_ is from O.N. _gafl_, Norwegian dialect\n_gavl_. _Ice-shackle_, _ice-shockle_ (Cum. Wm. Yks. Lan. Chs. Nhp.) for\n_icicle_ represent O.N. _j\u00f6kull_, Norw. dialect _isj\u00f8kul_, whilst our\nword is from the O.E. compound _\u012bs-gicel_. The simple word remains in\nthe dialect _ickle_ (n. and midl. counties), e.g. It\u2019s bin a snirpin\u2019\nfros\u2019 sence it lef\u2019 off rainin\u2019, theer\u2019s iccles at the aisins [eaves] a\nyard lung. _Loup_, _lope_ (n.Cy. n.midl. and e.An.) for _leap_ is from\nO.N. _hlaupa_, Norw. dialect _laupa_ and _lope_, to run, cognate with\nO.E. _hl\u0113apan_, whence our form _leap_. Similarly the Sc. and northern\nforms _rin_ and _ren_, both common in M.E., are Norse words, whilst\nour _run_ is of native extraction. _Sniggle_ (Lei. Nhp.) for _snail_\nis from O.N. _snigill_, beside the native _snail_ from O.E. _sn\u00e6gl_.\n_Stam_ (Rut. Nhp. Wor. Glo. Oxf. Bdf. s.Cy. Sur. Sus. Hmp.) for _stem_,\nstalk, is from Danish _stamme_. _Stang_ (Sc. Nhb. Cum. Yks. Lan. Lin.),\nto sting, is from O.N. _stanga_, to prick. _Starn_ (Sc. n.Cy. Nhb.)\nbeside _star_ is from O.N. _stjarna_, beside O.E. _steorra_, whence our\n_star_. _Teind_ (Sc. n.Cy. Cum. Yks.), a tithe, a tenth part, is from\nO.N. _t\u012bund_. _War_ (Sc. Irel. n. and n. midl. counties) for _worse_\nis from O.N. _verr_ adv., _verri_ adj., worse; our form is native\nEnglish. Nearly all these words, and numbers more of the same type,\ncan be traced in early literary works written in those districts where\nthe Norse influence was strong; and on the other hand, if evidence is\nwanted for localizing such writings, it is supplied by the existence of\nthese old forms in the spoken dialects of to-day.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER VII\n\nFOREIGN LOAN-WORDS\n\n\nWe have often been told, or we have read in newspaper reviews and\nsuchlike works, that the rustic vernacular is indigenous to the soil,\nmostly raw material in the rough, but entirely a native product. Of\ncourse this is in the main true, the real backbone of the dialects is\ngenuine English, but when we examine the whole vocabulary in detail,\nwe find it contains a very considerable admixture of foreign elements.\nFrench, Scandinavian, Celtic, and even Latin words permeate the\ndialects throughout the country, in varying proportions according to\nthe geographical area. To take first a sample of the French loan-words:\n_agist_ (Cum. Wm. Yks. Lan. Der. Not. Lin. Rut. Lei. Nhp. w.Cy.), to\nreceive cattle to graze for a fixed sum, to put out cattle to pasture,\nO.Fr. _agister_, to lodge, to make to lie; _aigle_ (midl. counties), an\nicicle, Fr. _aiguille_, a needle; _avoirdupois_ (Wor. Hrf. Suf.), to\nconsider, to weigh mentally, adv. undecided, in doubt, e.g. I be quite\nhaverdepaise about sending Jane to service; _arain_ (Dur. Yks. Lan.\nDer.), a spider, O.Fr. _araigne_, _iraigne_, cp. \u2018Oure \u021deris schulen\nbithenke as an yreyn,\u2019 Wyclif, _Ps._ lxxxix. 10; _asprous_ (Lei. War.),\nof the weather: raw, inclement, Fr. _aspre_, sharp, harsh, rough, +\nthe termination _-ous_; _bastile_ (Nhb. Cum. Yks. Lan. Chs. Stf. Der.\nRut. War. Wor.), a popular name for the workhouse, an application of\nFr. _Bastille_, the prison-fortress built in Paris in the fourteenth\ncentury, and destroyed in 1789; _bowet_ (Sc. Nhb.), a hand lantern,\nFr. dial. _bouete_, an equivalent of Fr. _boite_;_ben\u00e8(s_ (n.Cy.\nYks. Lan.), in the phrase _to clap ben\u00e8(s_, to clap the hands as an\nexpression of thanks or of pleasure, used in children\u2019s language.\nChildren are taught to _clap ben\u00e8_ before partaking of food, and nurses\nsay: Clap ben\u00e8s for daddy to cum, An\u2019 bring lile babby a ce\u00e0k an\u2019 a\nbun. The word _ben\u00e8s_ is a shortened form of _benison_, a blessing,\nbenediction, used in M.E. in the sense of grace before meat, cp. \u2018bord\nleyd, And the beneysun was seyd,\u2019 _Hav._ l. 1723, O.Fr. _beneison_.\n_Boco_ (Sus.), a large quantity, used principally of fish, Fr.\n_beaucoup_, a great deal, much; _bran_ (Lin. Oxf. Nrf. Suf.), freckles,\nFr. \u2018_bran de Judas_, freckles in the face,\u2019 Cotgrave. Littr\u00e9 says:\n\u2018_Bran de Judas_, tache de rousseur au visage. Locution vieillie, et\nqui vient sans doute de ce qu\u2019on se repr\u00e9senta Judas roux.\u2019 _Chibbole_\n(War. Wor. Glo. Oxf. I.W. Wil. Dor. Som. Dev. Cor.), a young onion\nwith the green stalk attached, a scallion, O.Fr. (Picard) _chibole_,\nMod.Fr. _ciboule_, cp. \u2018Chibolles and cheruelles and ripe chiries\nmanye,\u2019 _Piers Plow._ B, VI, l. 296; _courant_ (Sc. Wm. Yks. Chs. Shr.\nI.W. Dev. Cor.), a running and violent dance, a revel, a romp, &c.,\nFr. \u2018_courante_, sorte de danse,\u2019 Littr\u00e9; _dishabille_ (n. and midl.\ndials. also s.), disorder, a state of confusion, working-dress, Fr.\n_en d\u00e9shabill\u00e9_, \u2018en v\u00eatement ais\u00e9 que l\u2019on porte d\u2019ordinaire chez\nsoi,\u2019 Hatzfeld; _dole_ (Sc. Nhb. Cum. Wm. Yks. Stf. Der. Dor. Cor.),\nsorrow, grief, misfortune, O.Fr. _dol_, _dul_, _deul_, Mod.Fr. _deuil_,\nsorrow; _fammel_ (War. Wor. Glo. Oxf.), to starve, famish, e.g. I\u2019m\nhalf fammel\u2019d, Norm. dial. _fameiller_, \u2018\u00eatre affam\u00e9,\u2019 Moisy, O.Fr.\n_fameiller_, avoir faim; _fay_ (Sc. Yks. Som. Dev. Cor.), faith, used\nas an interjection, and in assertions and quasi-oaths, cp.:\n\n    Whether seistow this in ernest or in pley?\n    Nay, quod Arcite, in ernest by my fey.\n                                 _Knightes Tale_, ll. 267, 268.\n\n[Sidenote: _French Loan-words_]\n\nO.Fr. _fei_, faith; _flasket_ (Yks. Lan. Chs. Lei. Nhp. Hnt. Ken. Sus.\nSom.), a kind of basket, a shallow, oval washing-tub, Fr. (B\u00e9arnais)\n_flasquet_, \u2018flasque\u2019; _flue_ (Hrf. Brks. Ken. Sur. Sus. Hmp. Wil.),\ndelicate, sickly, thin, in poor condition, O.Fr. \u2018_flou_, d\u00e9licat, en\nparlant des choses; doux, en parlant des personnes,\u2019 La Curne; _frap_\n(Nhb. Yks. Lan. Suf. Sus.), to strike, rap, Fr. _frapper_, to strike;\n_gigot_ (Sc. n.Cy. Nhb. Der. Lei.), a leg of mutton, Fr. \u2018_gigot_ (_de\nmouton_), a leg (of mutton),\u2019 Cotgrave; _goo_ (Sc. Nhb.), taste, relish,\nFr. _go\u00fbt_, \u2018sensation agr\u00e9able que produisent certaines saveurs,\u2019\nHatzfeld; _hogo_ (Irel. Nhb. Yks. Nhp. Hrt. e.An. Ken. Hmp. I.W. Wil.\nSom.), used of tainted meat and strong cheese: a strong disagreeable\nsmell or odour, Fr. _haut go\u00fbt_, high flavour; _hone_ (Sc. n.Cy. Lin.\nStf. War. Wor. Shr. Dev.), to whine, complain, with _after_ or _for_: to\nrepine for want of, to long or pine for, Fr. (Norman dial.) _hoigner_,\n\u2018hogner, geindre, pleurnicher, se lamenter,\u2019 Moisy. Dr. Johnson has: \u2018to\nHone.... To pine; to long for any thing,\u2019 but without any quotations.\n_Hanch_ (n. counties), to bite, snap at with the teeth as a dog does,\ne.g. That dog o\u2019 yours hanched at ma when ah tried ti clap [pat] him,\nFr. _hancher_, to snatch at with the teeth; _hespel_, _huspel_ (Wor.\nShr. Hrf.), to worry, harass, to hurry, drive away, Fr. _houspiller_,\n\u2018maltraiter (qqn.) en le secouant,\u2019 Hatzfeld; _jet_ (Sc. Lakel. Yks.\nNot. Lin. War. e.An. s. and sw. counties), to throw, Fr. \u2018_jetter_, to\nthrow,\u2019 Cotgr.; _jigget_ (Sc. Irel. Lan. War. Oxf. Brks. Wil. Som. Dev.\nCor.), to ride or walk at a jog-trot, to shake, to dance up and down,\nFr. _gigotter_, \u2018remuer vivement les jambes,\u2019 Littr\u00e9; _jouke_ (Yks.\nDer.), to sleep or roost as partridges, O.Fr. (Picard) _jouquer_,\n\u2018percher, jucher,\u2019 _joquer_, \u2018\u00eatre en repos, percher,\u2019 La Curne, M.E.\n_jouken_, cp.:\n\n    Now rys, my dere brother Troilus;\n    For certes, it noon honour is to thee\n    To wepe, and in thy bed to iouken thus.\n                                Chaucer, _Troil._ V. ll. 407-9.\n\n[Sidenote: _Latten, Maugre, Merry, Mort_]\n\n_Jowl_ (Stf. Der. War. Shr.), an earthenware pan or vessel, Fr.\n_jalle_, \u2018a soe or tub,\u2019 Cotgr.; _keeve_ (Sc. Irel. Glo. Dor. Som.\nDev. Cor.), a large tub, a vat used for fermenting beer, Fr. _cuve_,\n\u2018an open tub, a fat or vat,\u2019 Cotgr.; _lash_ (Sc. n.Cy. Cum. Lin. Nhp.\ne.An. Som.), relaxed in consequence of weakness or fatigue; as applied\nto fruit and grass feed: soft and watery, Fr. _lasche_, \u2018slack, loose,\nweak, faint,\u2019 Cotgr., cp. \u2018That the Israelites were forbidden to eat\nthe fruit of their new-planted trees, before the fifth year, was very\nagreeable unto the natural rules of husbandry; fruits being unwholesome\nand lash, before the fourth or fifth year,\u2019 Sir T. Browne, _Garden of\nCyrus_, 1658; _latten_ (Sc. n.Cy. Nhb. Yks. Nhp. Oxf. e.An. Sus. Dor.\nSom. Dev. Cor.), any kind of very thin sheet-metal, tin plate, Fr.\n_laiton_, \u2018lattin (metal),\u2019 Cotgr., cp. \u2018He hadde a croys of latoun\nful of stones,\u2019 _Prol._ l. 699; _lingle_ (Sc. Irel. n.Cy. Nhb.),\nshoemakers\u2019 thread, Fr. _ligneul_; _lyart_ (Sc. n.Cy. Nhb.), of hair:\nstreaked with grey, O.Fr. _liart_, \u2018gris,\u2019 La Curne; _maugre_ (Sc. Lin.\nSuf.), in spite of, notwithstanding, e.g. The\u00e4re\u2019s a right of waay by\nthe Milner\u2019s Trod, and I\u2019ll go\u00e4 by it when I want, mauger the te\u00e4th\nof all th\u2019lords and squires i\u2019Linkisheer, O.Fr. _maugr\u00e9_, \u2018malgr\u00e9,\u2019\nLa Curne; _maund_ (in gen. dial. use in Sc. and Eng.), a basket, a\nhamper, O.Fr. _mande_, \u2018panier d\u2019osier \u00e0 deux anses,\u2019 La Curne; _mell_\n(Sc. Irel. Nhb. Dur. Cum. Wm. Yks. Lan. Chs. Lei. Dor. Som. Dev.),\nto mix, mingle, to meddle, interfere, O.Fr. _mesler_, _m\u00ealer_, \u2018unir\nensemble,\u2019 Hatzfeld; _merry_ (Wm. Lan. Chs. Der. Shr. Oxf. Brks. Bck.\nHnt. Sus. Hmp. I.W. Wil. Dor.), the wild cherry, Fr. _merise_, \u2018a small\nbitter cherry,\u2019 Cotgr. The English form without the _s_ is parallel\nto _cherry,_ from Fr. _cerise_, where the _s_ has been supposed to\nbe a plural suffix. _Mort_ (in gen. dial. use in Irel. and Eng.), a\nquantity, a great deal, abundance, e.g. It did me a mort o\u2019 good,\nThere\u2019s a mort o\u2019fruit in the garden, Fr. (Norm. dial.) _mort_, in the\nphrase _\u00e0 mort_, \u2018en grande quantit\u00e9: Le prunier a des prunes \u00e0 mort,\u2019\nMoisy; _mure_ (Sc. Yks. Cor.), to confine, as within prison-walls,\nFr. _murer_, \u2018to inclose, or shut up between two walls,\u2019 Cotgr.;\n_parl(e_ (Sc. Yks. Lan. Chs. Lin. Glo. Brks.), to talk, converse,\nO.Fr. _parler_, cp. \u2018Patriarkes and prophetes han parled her-of long,\u2019\n_Piers Plow._ B, XVIII. l. 268; _peel_ (in gen. dial. use in Sc. and\nEng.), a flat, long-headed shovel, generally of wood, used for taking\nbread and pies in and out of a brick oven, O.Fr. _pele_, \u2018pelle,\u2019\nLa Curne; _pelt_ (in gen. dial. use in Sc. Irel. and Eng.), a skin,\nhide, Fr. (Norm. dial.) _pelette_, \u2018morceau de peau de mouton, avec sa\nlaine,\u2019 Moisy; _percage_ (Nhb.), a little sheltering cot for a man at a\ncheck gate, a shelter used by shepherds when sheep are lambing, O.Fr.\n_parcage_, \u2018enceinte pour parquer les bestiaux,\u2019 La Curne; _quail_,\n_quell_ (Nhp. Bdf. e.An.), of milk: to curdle, to turn sour, O.Fr.\n_coailler_, to curdle; _quiddy_ (Sus.), what do you say? Fr. _que\ndis-tu?_; _race_ (Nhb. Dur. Chs. War. Suf.), a root, especially of\nginger, O.Fr. _ra\u00efs_, _ra\u00efz_, a root, cp. \u2018a race or two of ginger,\u2019\n_Wint. T._, IV. iii. 50; _regrater_ (Dev. Cor.), one who buys butter,\nfruit, &c., from the farmers to sell in the market, O.Fr. _regratier_,\na huckster, cp. \u2018Rose \u00fee regratere was hir ri\u021dte name,\u2019 _Piers\nPlow._ B, V. l. 226; _rigol_ (Shr.), a small gutter or channel, a\nsurface-drain, Fr. _rigole_, \u2018a trench, drain, gutter,\u2019 Cotgr.; _scute_\n(Dor. Som. Dev. Cor.), a sum of money, a present, reward, payment,\nO.Fr. _escut_ (Mod. _\u00e9cu_), a buckler, shield, a coin; _spairge_ (Sc.\nNhb. Yks. Der.), to dash, to scatter broadcast, to sprinkle, Fr.\n_asperger_, \u2018to besprinkle; to sprinkle, or strew water or dust upon,\u2019\nCotgr.; _stravaig_ (Sc. Irel. n.Cy. Nhb.), to wander about aimlessly,\nto stroll, saunter, O.Fr. _estravaguer_, from Low Latin _extravagari_,\nto wander out or beyond; _suant_ (Gmg. Glo. Sus. Hmp. I.W. Wil. Dor.\nSom. Dev. Cor.), smooth, even, regular, &c., O.Fr. _suant_, pres. part.\nof _sivre_, to follow; _tass(e_ (Sc. Yks. e.An.), a cup, glass, a bowl,\nFr. _tasse_; _urchin_ (in gen. dial. use in Sc. and Eng.), a hedgehog,\ne.g. Hoo\u2019s getten a tung sharp enough for t\u2019shave a urchant (Lan.),\nO.Fr. _eri\u00e7on_, _heri\u00e7on_, cp. \u2018I shal putte it in to the possession\nof an irchoun,\u2019 Wyclif, _Isaiah_ xiv. 23; _venell_ (Sc. Irel. n.Cy.\nNhb. Yks.), an alley, a narrow lane or passage, Fr. _venelle_, a little\nstreet, Hatzfeld.\n\n[Sidenote: _French Words peculiar to Scotland_]\n\nThere are certain French words peculiar to Scotland, but their number\nis not very large, for most of the French words found in Scotland\nbelong also to parts of England. Examples of the exclusively Scottish\nloan-words are: _ashet_, a dish, Fr. _assiette_; _cashie_, delicate,\nnot able to endure fatigue, also soft, flabby, not of good quality, Fr.\n_cass\u00e9_, \u2018broken, quasht in pieces; also cassed; also decaied, worn,\nor broken with age,\u2019 Cotgr.; _evite_, to avoid, escape, Fr. _\u00e9viter_,\nto avoid; _fier_, plur., the prices of grain legally fixed in each\ncounty for the current year, O.Fr. _feur_ (_foer_, _fuer_), \u2018prix,\nvaleur,\u2019 La Curne; _graduwa_, _gradawa_, a physician, a doctor with\na medical degree, Fr. _gradu\u00e9_, \u2018a graduate, one that hath taken a\ndegree in an University,\u2019 Cotgr.; _gillem_, a carpenter\u2019s or joiner\u2019s\ntool, a rabbet-plane, Fr. _guillaume_, \u2018rabot \u00e0 fer \u00e9troit, \u00e9chancr\u00e9,\npour faire les rainures,\u2019 Hatzfeld; _jupe_, a woman\u2019s skirt, or short\npetticoat, O.Fr. _jupe_; _pirlicue_, a brief r\u00e9sum\u00e9 or recital given\nat the close of a series of addresses or sermons of the principal\nsubjects and points treated, Fr. \u2018_par la queue_, par le bout, par la\nfin,\u2019 Littr\u00e9; _pownie_, a peacock, Fr. _paon_; _retour_, a return, Fr.\n_retour_; _skellat_, a small bell, a hand-bell, O.Fr. _eschalette_,\n_esqualette_, _escalette_, a little bell; _souflet_, a stroke,\nblow, Fr. _soufflet_, \u2018a box or cuff on the ear,\u2019 Cotgr.; _stance_,\na standing-place, position, a site, O.Fr. _estance_, a condition,\nsituation; _trance_, a passage within a house, an entrance-hall,\n&c., O.Fr. _transe_, \u2018passage,\u2019 Godefroy; _vivers_, food, provision,\nFr. _vivres_, food; _vizzy_, a look, view, a scrutinizing gaze, Fr.\n_vis\u00e9e_, \u2018a levelling, or ayming at with the eye, a level or aym\ntaken,\u2019 Cotgrave.\n\n[Sidenote: _The Development of \u2018Mooch\u2019_]\n\nA loan-word which has undergone a curious development of meanings is\nthe common dialect word _mooch_ (in gen. dial. use in Sc. and Eng.),\n_meech_, or _mitch_. In O.E. there must have been an unrecorded form\n_m\u0233can_, which gave the dialect form _mitch_. This O.E. _m\u0233can_\ncorresponds to the O.H.G. _m\u016bhhan_, to lie lurking secretly, to waylay\na person with intent to do him bodily harm, a word which remains in\nthe Modern German _Meuchelmord_. The German word passed into Northern\nFrench, and underwent the Norman-French change of _hh_ [_ch_ as in Sc.\n_loch_] to _tch_ [as in _such_], becoming _moucher_. In this stage the\nNormans brought the word to this country, where it developed a curious\ncategory of meanings: 1. To idle and loaf about, generally with the\nidea of seeing what one can pick up on the sly; to pilfer, e.g. That\nowd black cat goes mouchin\u2019 about, in an\u2019 out uv folkses \u2019ousen, \u2019er\u2019ll\nsure to get shot one uv these daays. Hence _moocher_, a pilferer, a\nloafer, one who dogs another by stealth; a beggar; a hawker. 2. To play\ntruant, especially to play truant in order to gather blackberries; to\nabsent oneself from business, e.g. My lad\u2019s been mouching again. Hence\n_moocher_, a truant from school, especially one who plays truant in\norder to gather blackberries; hence a gatherer of blackberries, a\nblackberry-moocher. 3. In the Imperative, _mooch_ means Be off! 4. The\nphrase _on the mooch_ means gone off loafing. 5. _Mooch_ sb. means a\nblackberry. Meanwhile a further development in form took place on the\nContinent; the Norman-French _moucher_ passed into Central French,\nand underwent the ordinary change of _tch_ to _ss_, thereby becoming\n_musser_, and later _muser_, to lurk in a corner, preserved in the\nModern French reflexive verb _se muser_, to play truant. From _musser_\nwas derived the substantive _musse_, defined in Littr\u00e9 as a narrow\npassage through a wall or a hedge for hares, rabbits, and other game.\nThis Central French word _musse_ was brought over to England in the\nreign of Henry VII, as a hunting term, together with many other words\nof the same kind. It is common in English works of the seventeenth\ncentury in the form _muse_, familiar to us in the old English\nproverbial saying:\n\n    Take a hare without a muse,\n    And a knave without excuse,\n    And hang them up.\n\n[Sidenote: _French Hunting Terms_]\n\nThough obsolete now in the standard language, it is still very common in\nthe dialects, meaning a small hole or \u2018run\u2019 through a hedge or through\ngrass made by a rabbit, hare, or other small animal in its track. The\nform _mitch_, from the original O.E. _m\u0233can_, developed meanings on the\nsame lines as _mooch_. It is found in Shakespeare: \u2018Marry, this is\nmiching mallecho; it means mischief,\u2019 _Ham._ III. ii. 147, together with\nthe substantive _micher_: \u2018Shall the blessed sun of heaven prove a\nmicher and eat blackberries,\u2019 _1 Hen. IV_, II. iv. 450. Tusser writes in\nhis \u2018Good husbandlie lessons worthie to be followed of such as will\nthriue\u2019:\n\n    Once placed for profit, looke neuer for ease,\n      except ye beware of such michers as thease:\n    Unthriftines, Slouthfulnes, Careles and Rash,\n      that thrusteth thee headlong to run in the lash--\n\nwhere \u2018micher\u2019 conveys the old sense of lurking stealthily, with intent\nto do mischief.\n\n[Sidenote: _Scandinavian Loan-words_]\n\nTo take next some specimens of the Scandinavian loan-words: _addle_\n(n. counties to Chs. Stf. Der. Not. Lin., also in Rut. Lei. Nhp. War.\ne.An.), to earn, acquire by one\u2019s labour, to gain, procure, e.g. It\nisn\u2019t what a chap addles, but what a chap saves at makes him rich, cp.\n\u2018Hu mann mihhte cwemenn [please] Godd & addlenn hefmess blisse,\u2019\n_Ormulum_, l. 17811, _c._ 1205, cp. O.N. _\u00f8\u00f0la_, reflexive _\u00f8\u00f0lask_, to\nacquire (for oneself) property; _birr_ (Sc. Irel. Dur. Cum. Wm. Yks.\nLan. Chs. Der.), force, impetus, energy, &c., cp. \u2018Lo in a greet birre,\nal the drove wente heedlinge in to the see,\u2019 Wyclif, _Matt._ viii. 32,\nO.N. _byrr_, a favourable wind; _bulder_, _buller_ (Sc. Nhb. e.An.), a\nloud gurgling noise, a bellowing, Norw. dial. _bulder_, _buller_, a\nbubbling circle or whirlpool; _dag_ (n.Cy. Lan. Chs. War. Brks. e.An.),\ndew, O.N. _d\u00f8gg_ (mod. gen. _daggar_), dew; _ettle_ (gen. dial. use in\nSc. Irel. and all n. counties to Lan.), to intend, propose, have in\nmind, &c., O.N. _\u01e3tla_, to intend, purpose; _fitty_ (Lin.), marsh-land\nlying between the sea-bank and the sea, Norw. dial. _fit_ (pl.\n_fitjar_), a level meadow by the water; _force_ (Nhb. Dur. Cum. Wm. Yks.\nLan.), a waterfall or cascade. It is not uncommon in certain parts of\nYorkshire to find that where sign-posts direct the traveller to\n\u2018Stainforth Force\u2019, or \u2018Catterick Force\u2019, the native will say,\n\u2018Stainforth Foss\u2019, \u2018Catterick Foss\u2019, the reason being that the O.N.\n_fors_, a waterfall, has in the written language become associated with\n_force_, and established as the standard form, whilst the Norw. dial.\n_foss_, Dan. _fos_, has been preserved in the spoken dialects. _Frosk_\n(Dur. Cum. Wm. Yks. Lan.), a frog, O.N. _froskr_; _gaggle_ (e.An.), a\nflock of geese, O.N. _gagl_, a young goose; _grum_ (Yks. Lan. Glo. Oxf.\nSom. Dev.), surly, cross, disagreeable, angry, Norw. dial. _grum_,\nproud, haughty, Dan. _grum_, fierce, angry. Dr. Johnson incorporates\nthis adjective, but marks it as \u2018a low word\u2019. _Hag_ (n. and midl.\ncounties), to hew, O.N. _h\u00f6ggva_; _haver_ (Sc. Nhb. Dur. Cum. Wm. Yks.\nLan. Lin.), oats, Norw. dial. _havre_; _heppen_ (n.Cy. Yks. Not. Lin.),\ntidy, respectable, handsome, handy, deft, O.N. _heppinn_, lucky, also\ndexterous; _helder_ (n.Cy. Yks. Lan. Der.), adv. more, rather,\npreferable to, O.N. _heldr_, the English form _helder_ being properly a\ndouble comparative; _hill_ (n. and midl. counties), to cover up, to\nwrap, cover with clothes, &c., O.N. _hylja_; _hooly_ (Sc. Nhb. Cum.\nWm.), adv. slowly, carefully, gently, O.N. _h\u014dgliga_, gently; _keld_\n(Nhb. Cum. Yks. Lan.), a spring of water, a fountain, a marshy place,\nO.N. _kelda_, a spring of water; _lait_ (Sc. and n. counties), to seek,\nO.N. _leita_; _lake_ (Sc. n. counties, Der. Not. Lin. Glo.), to play,\nsport, amuse oneself, to idle, to be out of employment, _lake-house_, a\ntheatre, and _laker_, an actor, O.N. _leika_, to play, sport; _lamp_\n(Sc. Nhb. Yks. Chs. Stf. War. Wor. Shr. Hrf.), to walk with long, heavy\nsteps, also to beat, thrash, Norw. dial. _lampa_, to walk with heavy\nsteps, to beat; _lea_ (n.Cy. Cum. Wm. Yks. Lan. Lin.), a scythe, O.N.\n_l\u0113_; _loof_ (Sc. Irel. Nhb. Cum. Yks. Nhp.), the palm of the hand, the\nopen hand, O.N. _l\u014dfi_, the hollow of the hand; _mense_ (Sc. Irel. and\nn. counties), honour, respect, hospitality good manners, &c., e.g. of a\nperson who has neither manners nor understanding it is said: He hez\nnowder sense nor mense, O.N. _mennska_, humanity; _mun_ (Sc. and gen.\ndial. use in Eng. down to Oxf. Brks.), must, O.N. _munu_, 3rd pr. pl.\nwill, shall; _nowt_ (Sc. Nhb. Dur. Cum. Wm. Yks. e.An.), cattle, O.N.\n_naut_, the cognate English word is _neat_, as in _neat-herd_; _oam_\n(Sc. Dur.), steam, a blast of warm air, a warm aroma, Norw. dial. _ome_,\nsmoke, the smell of something burning; _ouse_ (Sc. n.Cy. Yks. Lin.), to\nempty out liquid, to bale out a boat, Norw. dial. _ausa_, to bale water\nout of a boat, O.N. _ausa_, to pump, especially a ship; _owmly_ (Yks.),\nlonely, dreary, used with reference to large ancient houses, with few\ninmates, e.g. Ah sudn\u2019t like ti sleep wi mi-sen i\u2019 that greeat owmly\nhoose, Norw. dial _aumleg_, poor, wretched, miserable, O.N. _aumligr_;\n_quey_ (Sc. Irel. n. and midl. counties), a heifer, O.N. _kv\u012bga_; _ean_\n(gen. dial. use in Sc. Irel. and Eng.), a balk in a field, a division of\nland, &c., O.N. _rein_, a strip of land; _roose_ (Sc. n.Cy. Cum. Yks.\nLan. Lin.), to praise, O.N. _hr\u014dsa_; _seave_ (Nhb. Cum. Wm. Yks. Lan.\nChs. Lin.), a generic name for the rush, O.N. _sef_; _skep_ (Sc. Irel.\nEng. and Wal.), a basket, O.N. _skeppa_, a measure; _swip_ (Sc. Yks.),\nthe exact image or likeness, O.N. _svipr_, a likeness; _tine_ (Sc.\nn.Cy. Nhb. Cum. Wm. Lan.), to lose, O.N. _t\u0233na_; _tite_ (Sc. Nhb. Dur.\nLakel. Cum. Yks. Lan.), adv. soon, early, readily, &c., O.N. _t\u012btt_,\nneut. of _t\u012b\u00f0r_, frequent; _wath_ (Sc. Dur. Cum. Wm. Yks. Lan. Lin.), a\nford, O.N. _va\u00f0_, a wading-place, a ford across a river or creek; _will_\n(Sc. e.An.), bewildered, lost in error, uncertain how to proceed, O.N.\n_villr_, bewildered, erring, astray, etymologically the same word as the\nnative English _wild_.\n\n[Sidenote: _Celtic Words in the Dialects_]\n\nThe number of Celtic words in the English dialects is relatively\nsmall, even if under the common term Celtic we group together Gaelic,\nWelsh, and Old Cornish words. Some of these loan-words are very early\nborrowings, and can be traced back to the O.E. period. _Bannock_ (Sc.\nIrel. Nhb. Cum. Wm. Yks. Lan. Chs. Stf. e.An. Hmp. Wil. Som. Dev.),\na cake composed of oatmeal or barley mixed with water and baked on a\ngirdle, is O.E. _bannuc_; and _brat_ (Sc. Irel. Nhb. Dur. Cum. Wm.\nYks. Lan. I.Ma. Chs. Stf. Der. Not. Lin. Wor. Shr. Pem.), a child\u2019s\npinafore, a large coarse apron made with sleeves, worn by workers in\nfactories, is found in the Northumbrian Gospels of the tenth century,\n_bratt_ \u2018pallium\u2019, _Matt._ v. 40. Perhaps the most interesting of the\nearly Celtic loan-words is the word _tallet_, meaning a hay-loft,\nespecially one over a stable, also used of the space immediately under\nthe roof in any building, but not applied to a ceiled room of any kind.\nIt is originally a Latin word, _tabulatum_, a boarded floor, and must\nhave been a relic of the Roman occupation, picked up by the ancient\nBritons, and preserved by them in a modified form, cp. Wel. _taflod_,\na hay-loft, O.Ir. _taibled_, a story. Then later it was adopted by\nthe Anglo-Saxon invaders, and became the English word _tallet_, which\nis found to-day in common use in the dialects of Cheshire and all the\nw.midl. and sw. counties, that is, in all the counties near the Welsh\nborder. The remarkable point about the preservation of this word is\nthat it never once occurs in the whole range of English literature down\nto the nineteenth century, when Blackmore introduced it in his _Lorna\nDoone_. Through all these centuries it has steadily persisted in the\nspoken language without any help from the world of letters, linking the\nmodern rustic to the early Briton and the subjects of Julius Caesar.\n\n[Sidenote: _Celtic Words in Scottish Speech_]\n\nThe dialects of Scotland have adopted a certain amount of Gaelic\nwords into current speech, for example: _fuilteachs_, _fultachs_,\nsb.pl. a period partly in January and partly in February, according\nto \u2018Old Style\u2019 reckoning, now wholly in February. If the weather\nis fine during the _fultachs_, a bad summer and a cold wet harvest\nmay be expected; but stormy _fultachs_ betoken a good summer, Gael.\n_faoilteach_, the last fortnight of winter, and first fortnight of\nspring, proverbial for variableness. _Glack_, a ravine, glen, Gael.\n_glac_, a hollow, a narrow valley; _oye_, a grandchild, Gael. _ogha_;\n_skeeny_, pack-thread, twine, Gael. _sg\u00e9innidh_, twine, flax or hemp\nthread; _taisch_, the voice of a person about to die, second sight,\nGael. _taibhs_, a vision, apparition, ghost. Similarly, modern Irish\nhas incorporated certain Old Irish words, such as: _gra(h)_, affection,\nlove, fondness, Ir. _gradh_, love; _grafan_, a small axe with the edge\nturned across like an adze, used for grubbing, Ir. _graf\u00e1n_; _miscaun_,\na lump of butter, Ir. _miosg\u00e1n_, a small dish of butter; _partan_, the\ncommon crab, Ir. _part\u00e1n_, _port\u00e1n_, a crab; _shanagh_, _shanacus_,\na gossip, chat, talk, Ir. _seanchus_, history, genealogy, every kind\nof knowledge. From Wales a few Welsh words have been taken over into\nthe English dialects, for instance: _cader_ (Yks. Lan. Chs. Stf. Dev.\nCor.), a cradle, Wel. _cadair_, a chair, _cadair fagu_, a cradle;\n_keffel_ (n.Cy. Yks. War. Wor. Shr. Som.), a horse, generally an old or\ninferior one, Wel. _ceffyl_, a horse. The form _flannen_ for flannel,\nwhich is in general dialect use in Scotland, Ireland, and England, is\nalso Welsh, and not a corruption of the standard pronunciation, cp.\nWel. _gwlanen_, woollen material. Old Cornish as a language ceased\nto be spoken about the end of the eighteenth century, but here and\nthere can be found traces of it in the modern Cornish vocabulary, for\nexample: _mabyer_, a young hen, a pullet, a chicken, O.Cor. _mab_ +\n_iar_, i.e. the son of a hen; _muryan_, an ant, O.Cor. _murrian_, ants;\n_palch_, broken down in health, palsied, &c., O.Cor. _palch_, weak,\nsickly; _pilm_, dust, dry dust, fluff, O.Cor. _pilm_, flying dust like\nflour; _quilkin_, a frog, O.Cor. _cwilcen_; _subban_, a sop, O.Cor.\n_suben_, a mass, a morsel.\n\n[Sidenote: _Latin Words in the Dialects_]\n\nThe French and Scandinavian loan-words constitute by far the greater\nproportion of the foreign element in the dialects, and next come the\nCeltic words. Beside these, the borrowings from other languages are of\nlittle or no importance, beyond the fact of their adoption. It strikes\none with surprise, for instance, to meet a Greek word like _nous_ in\ncommon dialect use all over England, e.g. Th\u2019 \u2019ead o\u2019 un\u2019s a-put on\nvitty, there\u2019s some nouse about he (Som.), or: T\u2019yent no good to ax he\nto do\u2019t, vor \u2019e a-yent got no nowse (Brks.). Latin words have crept into\nEnglish dialects from various sources. Some have drifted down from the\nOld English period, e.g. _sicker_ (Sc. Irel. Nhb. Cum. Yks.), secure,\nsafe, which is O.E. _sicor_, secure, certain, from Lat. _securus_;\n_taffel_ (Sc.), a small table, which is the same word as O.E. _t\u00e6fl_, a\nchess-board, from Lat. _tabula_. Others have come through the medium of\nOld Norse, e.g. _almous_, _aumous_ (Sc. Irel. and n. counties), money or\nfood bestowed in charity, a small portion, &c., from O.N. _almusa_,\nbeside the standard English form _alms_, from O.E. _\u00e6lmysse_, _\u00e6lmesse_,\nfrom a pop. Lat. *_alimosina_; _scrive_ (Sc. Nhb. Yks.), to write, from\nO.N. _skrifa_, from Lat. _scribere_. Some are legal terms, e.g.\n_mittimus_ (Wm. Yks.), a legal summons, a notice to quit, a dismissal\nfrom service, e.g. Poor fella, ah pity yon man, ah du really:\nt\u2019landlord\u2019s sent him hiz mittimus to leeav; _siserary_ (Irel. Dur. Nhp.\ne.An. Suf. Dev.), a violent scolding, a severe blow, which is a dialect\ncorruption and use of the legal term _certiorari_, a corruption found in\nSmollett\u2019s _Humphrey Clinker_, cp. \u2018I have gi\u2019en the dirty slut a\nsiserary.\u2019 Others, again, are Church words, e.g. _cirage-money_ (Chs.),\nchurch rates, originally the equivalent of \u2018wax-shot\u2019, a duty formerly\npaid towards the charge of wax candles in churches, from M.Lat.\n_ceragium_, \u2018quod cerae nomine praestabatur ecclesiis ad luminarium\nconcinnationem,\u2019 Ducange; _calends_ (Wor. Shr. Hrf.), a name given in\ncertain places to the footpath leading to the entrance of the church,\nfrom M.Lat. _kalenda_, \u2018Initium cuiusvis rei, puta, Locus ubi\nterritorium aliquod incipit,\u2019 Ducange. A small sprinkling of Dutch words\ncan be found, such as: _dwile_ (e.An.), a coarse house-flannel, any\ncoarse rubbing-rag, a mop, Du. _dweyl_, a clout to wash the floor,\n_stok-dweyl_, a mop; _frow_ (Sc. Irel. Nhb. Cum-Yks. Lan.), a big, fat\nwoman, Du. _vrouw_, a woman, wife.\n\n[Sidenote: _Poetic Words in Dialect Use_]\n\nAnother feature of the dialect vocabulary which is worth a passing\nnotice, is the existence therein of words which we are wont to regard as\ntoo poetical, or too literary for everyday use. We should fear to be\nconsidered affected, and given to a habit of interlarding our\nconversation with quotations from books, if we called a song-thrush a\n_mavis_, or a _throstle_, and spoke of a _merle_ or an _ousel_ instead\nof saying blackbird, yet all these four are extremely common dialect\nterms. In parts of Yorkshire dialect-speakers call honeysuckle\n_eglantine_, as Milton did in _L\u2019Allegro_; and in certain southern\ncounties a stream is called a _bourn_, reminding us of Milton\u2019s \u2018bosky\nbourn\u2019; the two words would not, however, be still heard in conjunction\nwith one another, for _bosky_ is confined to the northern dialects. In a\nnumber of counties from north to south _mead_ is a common term for a\nfield, a meadow, e.g. The beeses is i\u2019 the mead; similarly _delve_ is a\ncommon verb for dig, _dight_ for prepare, _hie_ for hasten, e.g. Hie\nthee, Sarah, hie thee, and bring me a sope o\u2019 beer, aw\u2019m welly\n[well-nigh] kilt wi\u2019 droot (Chs.); _lap_ for wrap; _rive_ for tear;\n_rue_ for regret, e.g. I\u2019ve never rued it but once, and that\u2019s ever sin;\n_wax_ for grow, e.g. He\u2019s waxed sair sin aa seed him last (Nhb.), Ah wax\nwarm (Suf.). _Sear_, adj. withered, dry, is common in East Anglia. A\nSussex rhyme runs:\n\n    Burn ash-wood green,\n    \u2019Tis fire for a Queen;\n    Burn ash-wood sare,\n    \u2019Twool make a man swear.\n\nThere is a ring of poetry in the mere sound of such a word as _dimble_\n(Der. Not. Lei.) for dingle, an echo of Ben Jonson\u2019s line: \u2018Within a\ngloomy dimble she doth dwell\u2019; and the expression _a wimpling burn_ (n.\ncounties) seems to carry with it the note of fresh, running water.\n\n[Sidenote: _Words of Academic Character_]\n\nBeside these, are the words with a savour of academic learning such\nas: _accord_ (Wor. Hrf.) for agree, e.g. \u2019Im an\u2019 \u2019er can\u2019t accard\ntogether no waay; _element_ (n. and sw. counties) for sky, atmosphere.\nA Somersetshire man describing a thunder-storm said: Th\u2019element was\nall to a flicker. The Yorkshire proverbial saying: Ah could na more\ndo it ner ah could fly into t\u2019element, is worth recording before the\noncoming cloud of aeroplanes has made us forget that it could ever\ntypify the impossible. The term _cabal_ can be used to describe a group\nof people met together for gossip, e.g. There wor Jane, an\u2019 Hoppy, an\u2019\nSal, an\u2019 the hull cabal on \u2019em i\u2019 the lane (Not.), or it can signify a\ngreat noise of talking, &c., e.g. They war makkin\u2019 a fine auld cabal at\nt\u2019public-hoose last neet (Wm.). In some parts of Ireland a _gladiathor_\nis a well-known term for a fine fellow, a roysterer, a fighter, e.g.\nWhin I comes acrass a man who has two or three hundred pounds, an\u2019 sees\nall his capers an\u2019 antics, I says to meself, What a gladiathur ye are.\nBut here we have to deal also with the change of meaning which the\nliterary word has undergone, and as the majority of what we have termed\nlearned words are used in a transferred sense in the dialects, the\nremainder of our examples must be carried over into the next chapter.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER VIII\n\nLITERARY WORDS WITH DIALECT MEANINGS\n\n\n[Sidenote: _Clever, Comical, Conceit, Discourse_\n           _False, Flippant, Idle_\n           _Jolly, Kind, Maxim, Odd_]\n\nThe linguistic study of the dialects becomes an entertaining pursuit\nwhen we turn our attention to the dialect usage of literary words in a\nsense other than that to which we are accustomed in standard English.\nThis can only be illustrated by quotations, for only thus can the true\ninwardness of the dialect meaning be appreciated. _Adapted_ (Hmp.)\nmeans accustomed to: a man adapted to pigs is a man experienced in the\nrearing of swine; _agreeable_ (Yks.) means suitable, to one\u2019s taste\nor liking, e.g. Noo, reach to, an\u2019 mak\u2019 yersels agreeable, an\u2019 if ye\ndean\u2019t lahk it lay back, is a friendly invitation to guests at the\nboard to help themselves to what they fancy; an _auction_ (Yks. Lan.\nChs. Stf.) is a dirty or untidy place or room, a meaning which no doubt\nhas had its origin in the state of dirt and disorder occasioned by a\npublic sale: Ah nivver seed sitch a auction i\u2019 all my life as their\nhahse is, t\u2019furnitur\u2019s onnywheear but whear it sud be; _cake_ (Yks.) is\nbread, whilst _bread_ means oatcake, e.g. Etten cake\u2019s sooin forgotten\nis a proverbial saying; to _call_ a person (gen. dial. use) means to\nabuse him to his face, to abuse any one behind his back is to _illify_.\nA Yorkshire minister preaching on Christian forbearance counselled\nhis hearers thus: If they call ya, tak neea heed on\u2019t, bud if they\nbunch [kick] ya, or cobble ya wi\u2019 steeans, gan ti t\u2019justice, an\u2019 a\u2019e\ndeean wi\u2019t at yance. _Casualty_ (n. m. and w. dials.) is used as an\nadjective meaning precarious, risky, uncertain, not to be relied upon,\ne.g. Cauves is cazzlety things to rear; a _Christian_ (gen. dials.) is\na human being as distinguished from one of the lower animals, e.g. W\u2019y\n\u2019e\u2019d get on that wall, said a woman of a favourite dog, an\u2019 bark like\na krischun \u2019e \u2019ood, \u2019e knowed so well who wuz a-comin\u2019. A shop-bill\nannouncing the attendances of a veterinary at Mansfield Market more\nthan a century ago, concluded with the words: \u2018N.B. Likewise bleeds\nChristians.\u2019 A _chintz_ cat is a tortoiseshell cat; _clever_ (Nhb.\nDur. Yks. Ken. Dev. Cor.) means well, in good health, active, e.g. Hoo\nare ye the day, lad? Man, aa\u2019s clivver; _comical_ (Wor. Hrf. Glo. Bdf.)\nmeans unwell, out of sorts, e.g. I\u2019ve felt bad and comical a many days;\nused of roads (Shr.) it signifies bad, dangerous, e.g. It\u2019s a comical\nroad, specially if theer comes on a mug [fog]; a _conceit_ (Irel. n.\nand midl. counties) is an opinion, idea, fancy, e.g. If a wanst teks\na consate, loike, you mee as good talk to a win\u2019mill, and it can be\nused as a verb in a like sense, e.g. What do you understand by being\nconfirmed? Why, I consate I\u2019ll have to fight the devil by mysel\u2019;\n_dead_ (Irel. Hrf. Glo. Cor.) means faint, unconscious, e.g. I was dead\never so long; a _deaf_ nut (n. midl. and sw. counties) is one without a\nkernel, e.g. He does not look as if he lived on deaf nuts is said of a\nman who looks well-fed and prosperous; to _disannul_ (n. midl. w. and\ne. counties) means to abolish, destroy, e.g. Mr. B. has disannulled\nthe pigsty; or to disarrange, inconvenience, e.g. Yo\u2019 can come in,\nyo\u2019 oonna disannul the ladies; _discourse_ (Lin. Som. Dev.) is bad\nlanguage, e.g. Of all the discoose ever I yurd in my life, that there\nbeat everything; a _dormouse_ (Glo.) is a bat; _dubious_ (Chs. Shr.) or\n_jubious_ (Sc. Nhb. Yks. Lan. Stf. Der. War.) means suspicious, e.g.\n\u2019Er\u2019s as jubous as \u2019er\u2019s scrimmity [niggardly], weighs the flour out,\nan\u2019 then the bread after it\u2019s baked, be\u2019appen \u2019er thinks as I should\nate the duff; a _faggot_ (midl. and s. counties) is a dish, usually a\nsmall cake or rissole made of the fry, liver, or inferior portions of\na pig or sheep, e.g. \u2018Hot faggots to-night\u2019 is a not uncommon notice\nto be seen, for example, in the windows of small eating-houses in\nMalvern, Cheltenham, or Oxford; a _fig_ (Brks. Hmp. Wil. Som. Dev.\nCor.) is a raisin, hence _figgy-pudding_ stands for plum-pudding.\nA woman who made plum-puddings for sale, placed this notice in her\nshop-window: \u2018Figgy pudden wan appeny a slice, more figgier wan penny\na slice.\u2019 It is a common saying that a Cornishman\u2019s idea of happiness\nis: A fresh preacher and a figgy-pudding every Sunday. _False_ (n.\nand midl. counties), applied to children and animals, means sharp,\nshrewd, clever, precocious, e.g. as fause as a Christian, often said\nof a clever animal; _fierce_ (midl. and e.An.) means brisk, lively,\nin good health, and is usually applied to babies, it can also signify\nbrave, valiant, mettlesome, as in the ironical simile: as fierce as a\nmaggot; _fog_ (in gen. dial. use) is the aftermath, the second crop of\nhay, or the long grass left standing in the fields during winter. In a\nM.E. account of the fate of Nebuchadnezzar we read: \u2018He fares forth on\nalle faure [fours], fogge wat\u021d his mete.\u2019 A printed notice conspicuous\nin the market-square of Settle a few years ago advertised \u2018120 acres\nof fog for Sale\u2019. _Flippant_ (Dor. Som. Dev.) is used of rods or\nsticks in the sense of pliant, used of persons it means quick, nimble;\n_frightful_ (Hrf. e.An. Som.) means timid, easily frightened, e.g.\nLauk! Miss, how frightful you are! said by a homely wench when Miss\nscreams at a toad or a spider; a _gentleman_ (midl. and s. counties)\nis a man who need not work, or is disabled from work, e.g. He\u2019s a\ngentleman now, but he just manages to doddle about his garden with a\nweedin\u2019-spud. It can be applied to a sick woman, e.g. I\u2019m sure I\u2019ve\ndone all I could for mother; if she isn\u2019t a gentleman, I should like\nto know who is! _Good_ (Sc. n.Cy. Suf.), with names of relationship,\ndenotes kinship by marriage, e.g. my good aunt, is my aunt by marriage;\nmy good son, is my son-in-law; _good-natured_ (Dev.) can be used of\ninanimate objects, e.g. A good-natured stone is one easy to work; a\n_gull_ (midl. counties) is an unfledged gosling, called in parts of\nHampshire a _maiden_; _head_ (Som. Dev.) can signify the cream on the\nsurface of milk, so that if a farmer\u2019s wife is asked for milk in the\nforenoon, she may reply: I \u2019ont break my head vor nobody; a _hypocrite_\n(Suf. Sus.) is a person who is unwell, or a lame person, e.g. She\u2019s\nquite a hypocrite, she can\u2019t walk a step without her stilts; _idle_\n(Suf. Sus. Hmp. I.W. Wil. Dor.) means mischievous, saucy, flippant.\nIt is said that half the choir in a Dorsetshire village resigned when\na lady told them they were _idle_. They believed that she had accused\nthem of leading a vicious life. To _imitate_ (Chs. Shr. e.An. Nrf.\nSuf.) means to attempt, endeavour, e.g. Don\u2019t yow imitate hittin\u2019 me,\nor yow\u2019ll find it won\u2019t pay; an _income_ (Sc. n.Irel. n.Cy.) is an\ninternal disease, or an abscess, boil; _inconsistent_ (Nhp. Hnt.) means\nreprehensible; to _intend_ (w.Yks.) can be used to express a desire or\nexpectation beyond one\u2019s own control, e.g. I had intended our Rector\nto be a Bishop; an _item_ (Yks. Chs. Der. Lin. War. Wor. Shr. Sus.) is\na hint, signal, cue, e.g. I sid the Maister comin\u2019 so I gid \u2019im the\nitem. In Somerset and Devon it can mean a trick, antic, e.g. Her\u2019s za\nvull ov items as a egg\u2019s vull ov mayte. _Jolly_ (n.Cy. n.midl. e.An.)\nmeans fat, plump, e.g. the phrase _a jolly wench_ would be applied to a\nyoung woman weighing about twelve stone; _kind_ (midl. and s. counties)\nmeans in good condition, thriving, healthy, e.g. These\u2019m nice kind\npigs, He\u2019s always been a kindly bullock. It can also signify pleasant,\nagreeable, as in the Lancashire saying: There\u2019s never a gate \u2019at\u2019s so\nkind to th\u2019 fuut as th\u2019 gate one likes to go. A _maxim_ (War. Wor. Suf.\nSom. Dev. Cor.) is a plan, contrivance, e.g. The curate\u2019s a fustrate\n\u2019un amongst the lads, \u2019e\u2019s got such a many maxims to amuse \u2019um; _mean_\n(Yks.) signifies angry, e.g. I war ganging by t\u2019field, and there war\nWilly Lowis\u2019 bull. I couldna rin, and \u2019ea cam and leuked at me across\nt\u2019stile. \u2018Is ta gaen to be mean?\u2019 says I; _megrims_ (Yks. Chs. Stf.\nDer. Lin. War. Shr.) are antics, tricks, gesticulations, grimaces,\ne.g. Them childern wun naughty i\u2019 church, they wun makin\u2019 maigrims\nan\u2019 witherin\u2019 one to another all the wilde, where _witherin_ implies\nmuttering with an accompaniment of nods and winks; _miraculous_ (Sc.\nYks.) means wild, eccentric, reckless, venturesome, e.g. He\u2019s a bit\nmirak\u2019lous wiv a gun; to _mortify_ (Yks. Der. Shr. Hrf. Glo. Oxf. Som.)\nis to tease, vex, annoy, e.g. Drat the cheel! her\u2019s enough to mortify\nanybody out o\u2019 their life; _novice_ (Yks.) is a very common term of\nreproach, used of a person who is awkward in manner or procedure; _odd_\n(Cum. Yks. Lan. Der. Lin. Lei. War.) means solitary, single, lonely,\ne.g. He lives e\u2019 a niced house, but it was so odd, there wasn\u2019t a\nplace of worship within three mile; a very common phrase is: an odd\none, meaning a single one, e.g. Oor parson ewsed to ke\u00e4p two curates,\nbud noo he\u2019s a-gooin\u2019 to mak shift wi\u2019 a odd un. A Primitive Methodist\npreacher was advocating the missionary cause. Describing the heathen,\nhe said: Them poor cre\u00e4tures weds as mony wives as iver thaay\u2019ve a mind\nto, but th\u2019Testament says as clear as daayleet, we\u2019re nobbut to hev a\nodd un a-pe\u00e4ce. To _perch_ (Lan. Gmg. Pem. Dor. Som. Dev.) means to\nsit, sit down, take a seat, e.g. Prithee, perch!; similarly to _pitch_,\ne.g. Plaze to pitch, ma\u2019am; and to _print_ (Cum. Wm. Yks.), e.g.\nPrint thi body doon e\u2019 that chair tell ah git a bit o\u2019 this muck off\nmi hands an\u2019 fiase; a _phrase_ (Cor.) is a habit, custom, e.g. She\u2019s\nall the time groanin\u2019, and it\u2019s nothin\u2019 in the world but a nasty old\nphrase she\u2019ve took up; a _pig_ (Sc. Nhb.) or _piggy_, is a hot-water\nbottle. A traveller is said to have reported that in Northumberland the\npeople slept with the pigs for warmth, because he had been asked if\nhe would have a piggy in his bed. In parts of Scotland a _pig_ means\na flower-pot. A rich Glasgow merchant once sent for a London artist\nto decorate the panels in the cabins of his yacht. The artist asked\nwhat kind of decoration was desired. The reply was: Ony thing simple,\njust a pig wi\u2019 a flower. _Plain_ (Sc. Lin. Wor. Hrf. Dor.) signifies\nfrank, unaffected, homely, e.g. Lady Jane is such a plain lady, she\ncome into my \u2019ouse, an\u2019 sits down, an\u2019 takes the childern in \u2019er lap\nas comfortable as con be. She\u2019s as plain as you be, Miss, every bit; a\n_posy_ (Lakel. Lan. Yks.) is used of any single flower, which explains\nthe line: \u2018He promised to buy me a garland of posies\u2019; a _pot_ (Yks.)\nis an awful chasm, almost a bottomless pit, not uncommon in certain\nmoorland districts, technically it is a fissure in limestone; _pot_\n(Nhb. Cum. Yks. Lan. Not. Lei.) also means earthenware. Of a man with\na squint it may be said: He skens wor nor a pot cat. To _prove_ (Nhp.\nOxf.), applied to yeast or dough, means to rise, or to set to rise.\nWhen I complained recently that the bread was hard and dry, I received\nthe following letter from the baker: \u2018Dear Madam, I am sorry to receive\nyour complaint concerning the bread; the tin bread had been overproved,\nI fear, but the foreman will make an extra care, so that it shall not\noccur again.\u2019 _Purgatory_ (Der. Stf. Wor. Shr. Hrf. Glo. Oxf.) is a\nreceptacle for ashes beneath or in front of the grate; a _radical_\n(Cum. Yks. Lan. Oxf. Brks. and se. counties) means a troublesome boy,\nan impudent, idle fellow, e.g. That little chap be a proper young\nradical, a wunt do nothun\u2019 his mother tells un; _rapid_ (Lin. Nhp. Glo.\nKen. Sus. Wil. Som. Dev.) means violent, severe, applied specially to\npain; a _retinue_ (w.Yks.) is a long, tedious tale; to _serve_ is a\nvery common verb meaning to supply an animal with food, e.g. Ah\u2019ll gan\nan\u2019 sarve t\u2019pigs; a _sessions_ (n.Cy. Yks. Ken. Sus.) is a disturbance,\nfuss, a great difficulty, e.g. Noo there\u2019ll be a bonny sessions aboot\nit; to _settle_ (Yks. Lan. Lin.) is to reduce, to fall in price, e.g.\nBreead\u2019s sattl\u2019d a haup\u2019ny; _severe_ (Som. Dev.) means sheepish,\nashamed; to _shut_ (Shr.) means to yoke horses to the implements, to\n_unshut_ is to unyoke, or unharness them. This latter word occurs in\nan epitaph on a tombstone in Ludlow churchyard, over the grave of one\nJohn Abingdon, \u2018who for forty years drove the Ludlow stage to London, a\ntrusty servant, a careful driver, and an honest man\u2019:\n\n    His labor done, no more to town\n      His onward course he bends;\n    His team\u2019s unshut, his whip\u2019s laid up,\n      And here his journey ends.\n    Death locked his wheels and gave him rest,\n      And never more to move,\n    Till Christ shall call him with the blest\n      To heavenly realms above.\n\n[Sidenote: _Literary Words with Dialect Meanings: Radical, Serve,\n              Simple, Unshut_]\n\n_Simple_ (Ken. Sur. Sus.) means unintelligible, hard to understand, e.g.\nWill you please lend mother another book? She says this one is so simple\nshe can\u2019t make it out at all; _small_ (Yks. Lan.) is thin, slender, so\nthat a man over six feet high may be _small_; in the phrase: a small\nfamily (Sc. n.Cy.) it means young, e.g. A small family of nine\nchildren; a _soul_ (Yks. Glo.) is a night-flying white moth; a _stag_\n(n. w. and sw. counties) is a young cock. A School Inspector who asked a\nchild what it was that recalled St. Peter to repentance, was completely\nnonplussed when informed that it was a _stag_. To _stammer_ (Sc. n.Cy.\nNhb. Cum. Yks.) is to stagger, stumble, totter, e.g. Grandfather\u2019s very\nstammering, though \u2019e\u2019s lisher [more nimble] of his feet than uncle; to\nbe _suited_ (Cum. Yks. Lin.) is to be pleased, e.g. Oor Bill\u2019s just\nsuited noo he\u2019s getten into th\u2019quire wi\u2019 a white surplice on; to\n_suppose_ (Yks. Not. Lin. Rut. Lei. War. Shr. Hrf. Sus.), in the phrase\n_I suppose_, is used to express certainty, e.g. I suppo\u00e4se he\u2019s de\u00e4d for\nI was at th\u2019 funeral; _tender_ (Hmp.), used of the wind, means sharp,\nbiting; to _terrify_ (midl. and s. dialects) is to annoy, irritate,\nworry, e.g. \u2019E canna get a wink a slip uv a night, \u2019is cough is that\nterrifyin\u2019; it can also mean to damage, destroy, e.g. Thay wapses do\nterrify our plums; _thin_ (Irel. Yks. Chs. Wor.), used of wind or\nweather, means cold, piercing, e.g. My word! but it\u2019s a thin wind this\nmorning, it\u2019ll go through you before it\u2019ll go round you; a pair of\n_twins_ (Shr.) is an agricultural implement for breaking the clods and\nuprooting the weeds of ploughed land, e.g. Tell Jack to shet [yoke] a\ncouple o\u2019 \u2019orses to that par o\u2019 twins; to _upbraid_ (Nhb. Yks. Lan.\nLin.) is used in speaking of digestion, e.g. Ah nivver eeats onions bud\nthey upbraids m\u0103; to _up-raise_, or _up-rise_ (Dev. Cor.) is to church a\nwoman, e.g. Please, Sir, can Mrs. Smith be uprose this afternoon?; to\n_live upright_ (Yks. Lin. Nrf.) means to have independent means, e.g. He\nlives upright, and keeps a pig; to _worship_ (Som.) is to be fond of,\ne.g. Her [a cat] idn arter the pheasants, \u2019tis the rabbits her do\nworship; _young_ (Som. Cor.) means unmarried, e.g. Are you young or\nmarried? Of a very young bride it was said: She du look a pretty lot\nbetter than when she was young.\n\n[Sidenote: _Literary Words in the Dialects with Peculiar Idiomatic\n              Uses_]\n\nSometimes the simplest of English words have a peculiar idiomatic use in\nthe dialects, which may sound curious to our ears; for instance, with\n_belong_ (Wm. Lin. Stf. Nhp. Som.) property and its possessor are\nreversed, e.g. Who do belong to these here bullicks? A town boy, seeing\nsome geese pasturing on the wide expanse of Newby Moor, wanted to carry\noff one of them, and being remonstrated with, he replied: Why! nobody\nbelongs to \u2019em! To _break_ (Nhp. Glo. Hmp. Wil. Som. Dev.) is used of\nthings which tear, and conversely, _tear_ is used of things which break,\ne.g. Please, governess, her\u2019s a-broke my jacket. Who\u2019ve a-bin an\u2019 a-tord\nthe winder? He wadn a-tord \u2019smornin\u2019. _Few_ in many dialects is used in\nspeaking of liquid food, more especially of broth, e.g. Will ye hev a\nfew mair broth? _Just_ (Nhb. Der. Gmg. Pem.) implies nearly, almost,\ne.g. She\u2019ve a just cut her hand off, means she has narrowly missed doing\nso; _partly_ (Yks. Chs. Der. Oxf. Brks. Hnt.) is similarly used, e.g.\nHe\u2019s partly ten years old. It is also often used as a termination to a\nsentence, much in the same way as _like_, or _in a manner of speaking_\nand other phrases intended to round off the angles of a too explicit\nstatement, e.g. Well, ah thenk a\u2019d a-coom if his woife \u2019ud a-let him,\npaartly. To _want_ (Sc. Irel. and n. dialects) signifies to do or be\nwithout, to be free from, e.g. She never knew what it was to want a\nheadache; to _half_ do a thing (Oxf.), used with a negative, implies an\nexcessive amount of energy in the performance of the action, e.g. She\ndidn\u2019t half cry, means that she made a tremendous noise; _while_ (Sc.\nn.midl. and e.An.) means until. A north-countryman taking a\nSunday-school class \u2018down south\u2019 surprised his hearers by saying: Now,\nboys, I can\u2019t do nothing while you are quiet. An epitaph in a Lancashire\nchurch runs:\n\n    Here must he stay till Judgment day,\n    While Trumpets shirl [shrill] do Sound,\n    Then must he Rise in Glorious wise,\n    And Gloriously be Crown\u2019d.\n\nAnother, commemorating a married pair in Lincolnshire, is as follows:\n\n    Married we were in mutual love,\n      And so we did remain,\n    Till parted by the God of love\n      While we do meet again.\n\nThis use of _while_ was once literary, and occurs in Shakespeare\u2019s\nPlays. The conjunctions _if_, _and_, used as present participles, form\nan expression denoting hesitation, e.g. I axed that \u014f\u014fman about the\nweshin\u2019, an\u2019 after a good bit o\u2019 iftin\u2019-an\u2019-andin\u2019 \u2019er said \u2019er\u2019d\ncome--but \u2019er didna seem to car\u2019 about it (Shr.). _Neighbour_, used as a\nverb, is very common in the sense of associate with, visit, go about\ngossiping, e.g. I give them the time o\u2019 day, but I don\u2019t neighbour with\nany of them.\n\n[Sidenote: _Familiar Forms in Standard English with different Meanings\n              in the Dialects_]\n\nThen there are an almost unlimited number of dialect terms which\nsound like familiar forms in standard English speech, but which are in\nreality words of totally different origin and meaning. _Agate_ is a\nvery common adverb in all the north-country dialects, meaning on the\nway, afoot, astir, &c., concerning which a story is told of a farmer\u2019s\nwife giving her instructions to a new, south-country servant thus:\nThoo mun git a-gait i\u2019 good tahm i\u2019 t\u2019mornin\u2019 an\u2019 leet t\u2019fires. The\npoor girl was seen wandering about the fields in the early morning,\nand when the mistress appeared and reproached her for the unlighted\nfires, she explained that she had been searching in vain for an old\ngate to break up and use for kindling. A villager meeting the new\ncurate accosted him with: \u2018Ah see you\u2019re a-gait.\u2019 \u2018No,\u2019 replied the\nparson in an indignant tone, \u2018I\u2019m the curate.\u2019 A _badger_ (n. and midl.\ncounties) is a corn dealer, or a huckster, a very old term, found in\nearly English Dictionaries; a _banker_ (Yks. Stf. Lin.) is a navvy, a\ndrain-and ditch-digger. The judge and bar were puzzled by being told\nthat a disreputable fellow whom the police had found asleep under a\nstack was a banker. \u2018A banker!\u2019 exclaimed the judge. \u2018Yes, sur, and he\nis a banker, that I\u2019ll take my Bible oath on, for I seed him mellin\u2019\ndoon kids at the stathe end not ower three weeks sin\u2019,\u2019 replied the\nwitness, and an interpreter had to be found in court to explain to the\nmen of law that the witness had described a navvy occupied in hammering\ndown faggots supporting the foreshore of a river. A _banker-mason_\n(Rut.) is one who works fine stone: We call them as chops stones\nfor walls, choppers-and-wallers. If you called a banker-mason a\nchopper-and-waller, he\u2019d look awkward [annoyed]. To _boast_ (w.Yks.)\nis to dress stone with a chisel, which chisel is termed a _boaster_;\na _bounder_ (Cor.) is the holder of a tin-bound or parcel of land in\nthe tin-mines; a _damsel_ (Sc. Irel. Nhb. Yks. Lan. Chs.) is a damson\nplum, e.g. Fine fresh damsels at sixpence a peck; a _dodger_ (Ken.)\nis a night-cap; a _fresher_ (e.An.) is a young frog; a _humbug_ (Yks.\nLan. Chs. Der. Lin. War. Wor. Hrf. Glo. Wil. Dev.) is a particular kind\nof sweetmeat, varying in different localities. A well-known vendor\nof _humbugs_, familiarly called Dan, until a few years ago regularly\nplied his trade on the platform of Shipley station, and was wont to\nrelate with pride that he had once sent a parcel of his wares to Her\nMajesty Queen Victoria, by the hand of Princess Beatrice. _Love_ (Ess.)\nmeans lather, soap-suds; an _old maid_ (Wor. Glo.) is a horse-fly; to\n_peck_ (Wor. Oxf. Brks. Sus. Wil.) is to use a pickaxe. In a case of\nmanslaughter the witness giving evidence remarked: You see he pecked\nhe with a peck, and he pecked he with a peck, and if he\u2019d pecked he\nwith his peck as hard as he pecked he with his peck, he would have\nkilled he, and not he he. _Raps_ (Chs. War. Shr.) are sports, games,\nfun of any kind, e.g. It wuz rar\u2019 raps to \u2019ear the \u2019unters shoutin\u2019 to\nthe scar-crow to know which way the fox went; _shale_ (w.Yks.) denotes\na fire-lighter, made by cutting down a piece of soft deal wood into\nsomething resembling a tree-fern. A showman proclaimed that within his\nshow we were to be told something worth a pound for a penny. Inside\nwas a man cutting shales, and all he said was: Always cut from you\nand you\u2019ll never cut yourself. To _simper_ (Irel. w.Yks. e.An.) is to\nsimmer, cp. \u2018I symper, as lycour dothe on the fyre before it begynneth\nto boyle,\u2019 Palsgrave, 1530; a _slip_ (Irel. Pem. I.W. Dor. Som. Dev.\nCor.) is a young pig; to _steal_ (Yks.) is to put handles on pots. The\nfollowing conundrum was once very common: As Ah went ower Rummles Moor,\nAh pept dahn a nick an\u2019 Ah seed a man steylin\u2019 pots, an\u2019 they wor all\nhis awn. Hah could that be? A _wig_ (in gen. dial. use) is a kind of\ncake or bun, a _plain wig_ is a bun without currants, a _spice wig_ is\none with currants. The Lincolnshire version of the common nursery rhyme\nruns as follows:\n\n    Tom, Tom, the baker\u2019s son,\n    Stole a wig, and away he run;\n    The wig was eat, and Tom was beat,\n    And Tom went roaring down the street.\n\n[Sidenote: _\u2018Pig\u2019 or \u2018Wig\u2019_]\n\nThe ordinary version substitutes \u2018pig\u2019 for \u2018wig\u2019, and makes Tom\u2019s\nfather a \u2018piper\u2019. It is a question for textual critics to settle,\nbut natural sequence of idea and detail is on the side of the\n\u2018wig\u2019-version being the original one; and it is easy to see how in\na literary nursery, authority would say that the most omnivorous of\nsmall boys could not eat a periwig, and therefore the word must be\npig. This change once made, Tom\u2019s father becomes a piper for the sake\nof alliteration, rather than because there is any historical connexion\nbetween a piper and a pig.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER IX\n\nALLITERATIVE AND RHYMING PHRASES AND COMPOUNDS\n\n\n[Sidenote: _Alliterative Phrases_]\n\nA love of alliteration and rhyme in phrase and compound has always\nbeen characteristic of English as a whole. We tend naturally to say\nweary and worn, or sad and sorrowful, and we cling to compounds like\nhelter-skelter and pell-mell. We even begin the education of our babies\nby teaching them to call a dog a bow-wow, and a horse a gee-gee. It is\nnot, therefore, surprising to find this prevalence still more marked\nin the dialects, where all normal tendencies have fuller sway than in\nthe standard language. Some of the alliterative compounds are very\nexpressive. A few examples are: _chim-cham_ (Som. Dev.), undecided\ntalk, e.g. You niver can\u2019t get no sense like out o\u2019 un, cause he\u2019s\nalways so vull o\u2019 chim-cham, which was said of a certain candidate for\nParliament; _easy-osie_ (Sc.), easy-going, e.g. He was an easy-osie\nbodie, a kind of we\u2019ve-aye-been-providit-for-and-sae-will-we-yet\nsort of man; _feery-fary_ (Sc.), tumult, noise, passion, cp. \u2018Cupido\n... Quha reft me, and left me In sik a feirie-farye,\u2019 Montgomerie,\n_Cherrie_, 1597; _flim-flam_ (Som. Dev.), idle talk, nonsense, e.g.\nDon\u2019t thee ever tell up no such flim-flam stuff, else nobody \u2019ont\nnever harky to thee, nif ever thee\u2019s a-got wit vor to tell sense;\n_giddle-gaddle_ (Yks. Chs.), a contrivance used instead of a stile\nor gate, an effective bar to cattle and a trial to stout persons;\n_giff-gaff_ (Sc. Irel. n.Cy. Nhb. Yks. Lei.), mutual obligation,\nreciprocity, used especially in the proverbial saying: giff-gaff\nmakes good friends. A farmer said in reference to a douceur which his\nlandlord\u2019s agent appeared to expect: Chiff-chaff, feer an\u2019 squeer,\nthat\u2019s roight enew, but this here giff-gaff grease i\u2019 fist sort o\u2019\nwoo\u2019k doon\u2019t dew for may. The word is found as far back as the year\n1549 in one of Latimer\u2019s sermons: \u2018Giffe gafe was a good felow, this\ngyffe gaffe led them clene from iustice.\u2019 _Hiver-hover_ (Stf. War. Wor.\nShr.), wavering, undecided, e.g. Did\u2019n yo goo? No, I wuz \u2019iver-\u2019over\nabout it fur a bit, but as I said I oodna, I didna; _kim-kam_ (Shr.),\nawry, perverse; _midge-madge_ (I.W. Som.), confusion, disorder, e.g.\nGo home hon a will, \u2019tis always the same, all to a midge-madge, and\nher away neighbourin\u2019; _miff-maff_ (n.Cy. Yks. Lan.), nonsense,\nfoolishness; _mingle-mangle_ (Sc. Lan. Lei. Nhp.), a medley, a\nconfused mixture, cp. \u2018_Centon_, a mingle-mangle of many matters in\none book,\u2019 Cotgr.; _nilder-nalder_ (Yks.), to idle, to waste time,\nto pace along idly, e.g. Nilder-naldering and sinter-sauntering;\n_pip-pop_ (Bck.), a swing-gate, such as is called in many dialects\na kissing-gate; _reel-rall_ (Sc. Irel.), a state of confusion,\ndisturbance; _trinkum-trankums_ (Sc. Cum. Lan. Chs. e.An.), trinkets,\ngewgaws; _wee-wow_ (Chs. War. Wor. Shr. e.An. Som. Dev. Cor.), crooked,\nill-balanced, unsteady, e.g. I knowed well enough that lo\u00e4d \u014f\u014fd never\nraich wham, it wuz all wee-wow afore it lef\u2019 the fild. As a noun it is\ncommon in the phrase: all of a wee-wow. It can also signify squinting,\ne.g. \u2019Er babby\u2019s eyes is drefful wee-wow-like. Dr. Johnson exhibits\nsome contempt for this type of word, as for example: \u2018Twittletwattle.\nn.s. [A ludicrous reduplication of _twattle_.] Tattle, gabble. A vile\nword.\u2019 Cp. _Twattle_ (Yks.), foolish talk, gossip.\n\nIn some dialects even the cat takes up the alliterative tale; the\npurring sound she makes is called _three thrums_ (Sc. Cum. Yks. Chs.\nLin.), and when children beg to be told what she sings, Pussy\u2019s song put\ninto words is: Three threads in a thrum, Three threads in a thrum.\n\n[Sidenote: _Glunch and gloom, Peak and pine_]\n\nIt is very common to find two verbs of similar meaning coupled\ntogether by _and_, as for instance: to _blare and blore_, of cattle,\nto bellow, low. A Lincolnshire preacher, discoursing on Saul\u2019s capture\nof Agag said: You se\u00e4 Samuel was a prophet o\u2019 th\u2019 Loord, an\u2019 was not\nto be sucked in wi\u2019 Saul\u2019s lees, so\u00e4 he said unto him: \u2018Saul,\u2019 says\nhe, \u2018your goin\u2019 about to tell me \u2019at you\u2019d dun as the Lord tell\u2019d ye\nis all a heap o\u2019 noht at all. Do ye think I can\u2019t hear them theare\nbe\u00e4s blarin\u2019 an\u2019 bloorin\u2019, an\u2019 them she\u00e4p bealin\u2019 oot? Naaither God\nnor me is de\u00e4f, man.\u2019 To _chop and change_ is so common as to have\nbecome a colloquialism. It is a very old phrase, occurring as far back\nas fifteenth-century English literature. Tusser has: \u2018... chopping\nand changing I cannot commend with theefe and his marrow, for feare\nof ill end.\u2019 To _glop and gauve_ (Yks.) means to stare stupidly,\ngaze open-mouthed; to _glunch and gloom_ (Sc.), is to look surly or\nsulky, to whine, grumble; to _peak and pine_ is to waste away, cp.\n\u2018Weary se\u2019nnights nine times nine Shall he dwindle, peak, and pine,\u2019\n_Macbeth_, I. iii. 23; to _pell and pelfer_ (Chs.) is to eat daintily,\nto pick and choose when eating; to _quimble and quamble_ is to fondle,\ncaress; to _rap and ran_ or _rein_ (Lakel. Yks. Ess.), _rap_ and\n_rear_ (Lin.), _rap and reeve_ (Cum.), are all expressions signifying\nto seize with violence, get by any means, fair or foul; to _rap and\nrend_ (Sc. n.Cy. Shr. Hrf. e.An.) has the same meaning, but can also\nbear the sense of to destroy property, waste. Dr. Johnson has: \u2018To Rap\n_and rend_ [more properly _rap and ran_ ...] To seize by violence,\u2019\nexemplified by a quotation from Butler\u2019s _Hudibras_. To _rug and rive_\n(Sc. n.Cy.) is to pull and tear, to drag forcibly. A Northumbrian\nproverbial saying is: Like the butter of Halterburn, it would neither\nrug nor rive, nor cut with a knife--it was confounded. To _screw and\nscruple_ (Brks.) is to beat down in price; to _steven and stoor_ (Yks.)\nof the wind, is to howl and bluster. To _tew and tave_ (n.Cy. Lin. Dor.\nSom.) is to toss, to throw the hands wildly about as a person in fever\ndoes; to _tug and tew_ (Yks.) is to toil, to work hard and incessantly,\ne.g. T\u2019poar slave mun tug an\u2019 tew wi\u2019t wark Wolivver shoo can crawl; to\n_twist and twine_ (Nhb. Cum. Yks.) is to whine, cry, to be peevish and\nout of temper; _squetched and skywannocked_ (Lin.) signifies all awry;\nto _meddle or_ (_and_) _make_ (in gen. dial. use) is to interfere in\nmatters which do not concern one--the phrase is generally used in the\nnegative, as in the old Berkshire proverb: Quoth the young cock, I\u2019ll\nneither meddle nor make.\n\nIn the same way two nouns beginning with the same letter are yoked\ntogether to form a phrase, as for example: _care and cark_ (Sc. Nhb.\nCum. Yks. Lan. Glo. Suf. I.W. Som.), anxiety, sorrow; _by raff and reng_\n(Yks.), by little and little; _scrap and screed_ (Wm.), every particle,\ne.g. He\u2019s geean, an\u2019 teean iv\u2019ry scrap an\u2019 screed he could lig hands on.\n_I\u2019ve neither brass nor benediction_ (Yks.) means I am quite destitute.\nOf a total disappearance it may be said: There was nowther head nor hair\non\u2019t, moit nor doit (n.Yks.).\n\n[Sidenote: _Rhyming Words and Phrases_]\n\nBeside these are the rhyming words and phrases, such as:\n_argle-bargle_ (Sc. Lin.), to argue; _crawly-mawly_ (e.An.), poorly,\nailing; _dimmy-simmy_ (Shr.), languishing, affected; _eeksie-peeksie_\n(Sc.), equal, on an equality; _ham-sam_ (Dur. Cum. Wm. Yks. Lan.), adv.\nirregularly, confusedly; _hanchum-scranshum_ (Lin.), bewilderment,\nconfusion; _havey-cavey_ (Yks. Lan. Der. Nhp.), unsteady, trembling in\nthe balance; _hay-bay_ (Lakel. Cum. Yks.), a hubbub, uproar, commotion;\n_hirdum-dirdum_ (Sc. Lan.), confused, noisy mirth; _how-skrow_\n(Lakel.), disorder, a state of confusion, e.g. It\u2019s cleenin\u2019 time\nan\u2019 we\u2019re o in a how-skrow; _kabbie-labby_ (Sc.), an altercation,\nwrangle; _mimpsy-pimsey_ (Dev.), fastidious, affected, e.g. Whot a\npoor mimpsey-pimsey craycher \u2019tez, t\u00fc be sure; _nibby-gibby_ (Cor.),\na narrow escape; _otty-motty_ (Chs. Der.), suspense, e.g. Keepin\u2019\nhim in otty-motty, an noather tellin\u2019 him one thing or another--it\u2019s\nenough to vex annybody; _pinky-winky_ (n.Cy. Lan. Nhp.), very small;\n_quavery-mavery_ (e.An.), undecided, hesitating; _rory-tory_ (Som.\nDev. Cor.), loud, noisy, also gaudy, tawdry, e.g. Of all the rory-tory\nbonnets ever you zeed, Mrs. Vickery\u2019s beat \u2019em all, he was all the\ncolours of the rainbow. The word occurs in Fielding\u2019s _Jonathan Wild_,\ncp. \u2018Cavaliers and rory-tory ranter boys.\u2019 _Tacky-lacky_ (Som. Dev.),\na drudge, a person at every one\u2019s beck and call, e.g. Poor maid, her\u2019s\ntacky-lacky to all the tother sarvunts.\n\n[Sidenote: _Moil and toil, Rape and scrape_]\n\nTo _biver and wiver_ (Ken. Dev.) means to shake and tremble, e.g. Aw,\nLoramassy, Joan, \u2019ow you did stertlee me! I\u2019ve abin a-bivering an\u2019\na-wivering iver zince. Y\u00fc sh\u00fcde be more thortvul; to _blare and stare_\n(War. Glo.) is to wander about, e.g. What bist a blarin\u2019 and starin\u2019\nthur for?; to _codge and modge_ (War.) is to muddle and cobble, e.g.\nYou\u2019ve codged and modged this sewing pretty well; to _haggle and jaggle_\n(Yks. Lakel.) is to quarrel; to _holler and boller_ (Lei.) is to shout,\nhalloo, e.g. They was a-\u2019ollerin\u2019 an\u2019 a-bollerin\u2019, yo moight a-\u2019eern \u2019em\na moile off; to _moil and toil_ (in gen. dial. use) is to work hard,\ne.g. Yo met\u2019n mwoil an\u2019 toil a couple o\u2019 \u2019ours, an\u2019 \u2019ardly get a wisket\nfull. Tusser tells us in his autobiographical poem:\n\n    When court gan frowne and strife in towne,\n    And lords and knights saw heauie sights,\n    Then tooke I wife, and led my life in Suffolke soile.\n    There was I faine my selfe to traine,\n    To learne too long the fermers song,\n    For hope of pelfe, like worldly elfe, to moile and toile.\n\nTo _rape and scrape_ (Chs. Not. Glo. e.An.) is to scrape together, to\nget by any means in one\u2019s power; to _raunch and scraunch_ (War. Shr.) is\nto snatch greedily, e.g. Look at that \u014f\u014fman [a gleaner] raunchin\u2019 an\u2019\nscraunchin\u2019, \u2019er\u2019ll be all o\u2019er the fild afore the others bin in at the\ngate; to _slave and drave_ (Wil.) is to toil; _shaffling and haffling_\n(Chs.) means acting in an undecided, shilly-shallying way; _wafting and\ndraughting_ (Chs.) means bustling about; to _wink and skrink_ (Cor.)\nmeans to make signs by winking. The following story is told of a Cornish\nlad: he had been left in charge of the Sunday dinner whilst the family\nwere at church, and like King Alfred, he let it burn. He repaired to the\nchurch, and endeavoured by his energetic signs from the porch, to draw\nout the housewife. She in turn made signs to him to wait, when, growing\nimpatient, he cried out: \u2018Yiew may winky and skrinky as long as yiew du\nplase, but the figgy dowdy [plum pudding] is burnt gin the crock.\u2019\n\n_By habs and nabs_ (Yks. Lin.), and _by hobs and jobs_ (Shr.) are\nphrases signifying little by little, bit by bit; _by hulch and by\nstulch_ (Chs.) is equivalent to by hook or by crook; _hitheracs and\nskitheracs_ (Yks.) are odds and ends.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER X\n\nPHONOLOGY AND GRAMMAR\n\n\nThe average educated Englishman has no accurate conception of what a\ndialect really is, beyond a vague notion that the term covers a mass of\nbarbarisms, corruptions, and mispronunciations of the King\u2019s English,\ndevoid of any order or system, and used by the illiterate rustic in a\nhaphazard fashion with no regard to consistency. But as we have already\nseen in Chapter VII, in very many cases it is the standard language\nwhich contains the anomalies and the corruptions, whilst the correct\nforms have been handed down in the dialects where systematic sound-laws\nand exact grammatical rules have been regularly developed and carried\nout unhampered by the arbitrary rules of fashion, or the regulations of\na stereotyped spelling 400 years behind the pronunciation. As Max M\u00fcller\nputs it: \u2018the real and natural life of language is in its dialects,\u2019\n_The Science of Language_, vol. i, p. 55.\n\nA dialect may be defined as one of the subordinate forms or varieties\nof a language arising from local peculiarities of pronunciation,\nvocabulary, and idiom, or as that form or idiom of a language peculiar\nto a limited region or people, as distinguished from the literary\nlanguage of the whole people. Hitherto we have been concerned chiefly\nwith the second of these three characteristics of a dialect, namely\nvocabulary, but we will now consider in some detail the first on the\nlist, namely pronunciation, and here we cannot fail to be struck by\nthe wonderful uniformity and regularity of the sound-system of modern\ndialects.\n\nTo classify the modern dialects of a country is a difficult and\nunsatisfactory task. If we possessed about three hundred detailed\ngrammars of the principal English dialects spoken in the United\nKingdom, and could find hundreds of competent people willing to answer\nqueries about difficult or doubtful points, it might be possible to\nfurnish a classification which would be tolerably accurate. But this is\na state of things never likely to be realized. Though a great deal has\nbeen done in collecting material, it is as yet insufficient to enable\nany one to give the exact geographical area over which many of the\ngrammatical phenomena extend, hence the boundaries given in the\nclassification of our dialects are more or less roughly drawn. For all\npractical purposes we may divide the English dialects into the following\nseven groups:\n\n[Sidenote: _Dialectal Groups_]\n\n(1) Scottish, including n.Nhb. and n.Cum. Here literary English _a_\nhas a tendency to become _\u00e0_ before a single nasal in such words as\n_can_, _man_. The sound is generally represented in books by _o_, as\n_con_, _mon_. O.E. _\u00e6_ (_a_) in originally open syllables and O.E. _\u0101_\nhave fallen together, as _name_, _hame_ (O.E. _nama_, _h\u0101m_), lit. Eng.\n_name_, _home_. O.E. _o_ in originally open syllables and O.E. _\u0101_ are\nstill kept apart, as _k\u014dl_, _hame_ (O.E. _colu_, _h\u0101m_), lit. Eng.\n_coal_, _home_. O.E. _i_ and _u_ have not been diphthongized before a\nfollowing _nd_ as in lit. Eng. O.E. _u_ has become _\u0252_ [the sound in\n_sun_] as in lit. Eng. O.E. _\u016b_ has generally remained, but in s.Sc. it\nhas become _\u0252u_ [the sound in _cow_] when final. In Sc. medial _d_ has\ndisappeared after _n_ in such words as _cinder_, _wonder_. Final _l_\nhas generally disappeared after a guttural vowel, as _\u0101_, _f\u016b_, lit.\nEng. _all_, _full_. _r_ is strongly trilled in all positions.\n\n(2) North-country, meaning Nhb. Dur. Cum. Wm. Yks. (except sw. and\ns.Yks.), and the northern portion of Lancashire. O.E. _i_ has remained\nbefore _nd_, e.g. a word like _blind_ rhymes with lit. Eng. _wind_ sb.\nO.E. _u_ has generally remained, and also when followed by _nd_. In\nwords like _cup_, _summer_, _pound_ (O.E. _pund_), the _u_ has the sound\nof the _u_ in lit. Eng. _pull_. O.E. _\u016b_ has generally remained as in\n_h\u016bs_, _\u016bt_, lit. Eng. _house_, _out_. _r_ is uvular in Nhb. and parts\nof Dur. This is called \u2018the Northumberland burr\u2019.\n\n(3) North Midland, meaning sw. and s.Yks., the southern portion of\nLan. I.Ma. Chs. n.Wal. Stf. Der. Not. Lin. Rut. Lei. Shr. O.E. _a_\nhas become _e_ before _g_ in parts of Yks. and Lan. as _dreg_, _reg_,\nlit. Eng. _drag_, _rag_. O.E. _a(o)_ has in several of these dialects\nbecome _u_ or _\u0252_ before _ng_ in such words as _long_, _wrong_. This\npronunciation has been taken over into the standard language in\n_among_, _-monger_, _mongrel_. O.E. _e_ in originally open syllables,\nGermanic _\u01e3_ and O.E. _\u01e3_ (= _i_-umlaut of _\u0101_) are still kept apart\nin several dialects, whereas in lit. Eng. they have fallen together,\ne.g. _steal_, _sleep_, _heal_ (O.E. _stelan_, _sl\u01e3pan_, _h\u01e3lan_ beside\n_h\u0101l_).\n\n(4) South Midland, meaning Nhp. War. Wor. Hrf. Mon. s.Wal. Glo. Oxf.\nBck. Bdf. Hrt. Mid. Hnt. O.E. _a(o)_ has become _u_ or _\u0252_ before _\u014b_ in\n_long_, _wrong_, &c. O.E. _a_ has become _\u0101_ before _sp_, _ss_, _st_, as\nin lit. Eng. _gasp_, _grass_, _fast_. Initial _shr_ has become _sr_, as\nin _srimp_, _srivel_, lit. Eng. _shrimp_, _shrivel_.\n\n(5) East-country, meaning Cmb. Nrf. Suf. Ess. O.E. _a_ has become _\u0101_\nbefore _sp_, _ss_, _st_. O.E. _y_ has become _e_, as _pet_ (O.E.\n_pytt_), lit. Eng. _pit_, but this _e_ is rapidly disappearing through\nthe influence of the standard language. It has been adopted into lit.\nEng. in _evil_, _fledge_, _merry_ (O.E. _yfel_, _-flycge_, _myrige_).\nO.E. _\u0233_ has become _\u012b_, as _m\u012bs_ (O.E. _m\u0233s_), lit. Eng. _mice_.\n\n(6) South-country, Ken. Sur. Sus. Brks. O.E. _a_ has become _\u0101_ before\n_sp_, _ss_, _st_. O.E. _\u00e6(a)_ in originally closed syllables has become\n_e_ in parts of Kent, as _bek_, _thet_ (O.E. _b\u00e6c_, _\u00fe\u00e6t_), lit. Eng.\n_back_, _that_. Initial _\u00fer_ has become _dr_, as _dr\u012b_, lit. Eng.\n_three_. Initial and medial _v_ has become _w_ in Ken. and e.Sus.\n\n(7) South-west-country, meaning I.W. Hmp. Wil. Dor. Som. Dev. Cor.\nO.E. _\u00e6(a)_ has become _\u01e3_ before _sp_, _ss_, _st_. O.E. _or_ in the\ncombination _or_ + consonant has become _\u0101_ in such words as _corn_,\n_storm_. This also occurs in Group 6 above. O.E. _i_ has generally\nbecome _e_ before _ng_ or _nk_, especially in Wil. and Dev. as _theng_,\n_drenk_, lit. Eng. _thing_, _drink_. A _d_ has been developed between\n_l--r_, _r--l_, _n--r_, as _p\u0101lder_, _m\u0101dl_, _tailder_, _k\u0101nder_, lit.\nEng. _parlour_, _marl_, _tailor_, _corner_. Initial _f_ and _s_ have\nbecome _v_ and _z_ in native words in Wil. Dor. Som. Dev. Initial _\u00fe_\n[the sound in _thin_] has become _\u00f0_ [the sound in _then_] in sm. Hmp.\nI.W. Wil. Dor. Som. Dev. e.Cor. Initial _\u00fer_ has become _dr_.\n\n[Sidenote: _Phonology_]\n\nThe above are the main distinguishing features of the phonology of\nthe dialects as taken in groups, but no such list can adequately\nrepresent the range of pronunciation in the dialects taken\nindividually. The extent of this range can be shown by taking a list\nof common standard English words, where the number of different ways\nin which they are known to be pronounced in the various dialects has\nbeen carefully counted and registered, e.g. all (20), both (27),\nchamber (23), close (33), clothes (29), coat (20), cold (31), cow (20),\ncucumber (35), daughter (36), do (17), done (24), earth (44), father\n(35), gate (30), good (21), have (24), hold (37), home (44), house\n(29), night (22), oats (30), old (42), one (21), potato (46), so (24),\nthrough (29), whole (33), wrong (22).\n\nThe evidence of the pronunciation of words in the different English\ndialects is of great importance to the student of English philology, as\nhe is thereby often enabled to explain anomalies in the standard\nlanguage. To take only one instance: philologists have been at a loss to\nexplain why the word _oven_ in lit. Eng. does not rhyme with _cloven_.\nThe O.E. recorded form is _ofen_ parallel to the past participle\n_clofen_, yet while the latter word has followed the normal development,\nthe former has the development not of an original O.E. _o_, but of _u_.\nNow the collected evidence of the dialects goes to show that there must\nhave been beside the recorded O.E. _ofen_ an unrecorded form *_ufen_\nfrom which lit. Eng. _oven_ is quite regularly developed, for the _o_\nrepresenting an older _u_ is no more than the old French spelling with\nwhich we are familiar in such words as _love_, _come_, _son_, &c.\n\nWe can best compare the phonology of the dialects with that of the\nstandard language by examining the vowels and consonants categorically,\nand noting some of the differences in development. The following is\nmerely a rough outline of the subject, and some of the phonological\npoints noticed in the classification of the dialects will not here be\nrepeated.\n\n[Sidenote: _Phonology: Vowels_]\n\nVOWELS.--(1) _a._ The sound _\u00e6_ which is regular in lit. Eng. in close\nsyllables such as _back_, _thatch_, is rare in the dialects, occurring\nchiefly in e. and s.Cy. The majority of the dialects have _a_ in this\nposition. The _a_ in open syllables which has become _ei_ in lit. Eng.\nas in _name_, _shake_, has become _\u0113_ in Sc. n.Cy. and Midl. In s.Sc.\nand nearly all the other dialects it has become diphthongized to _e\u0259_ or\n_i\u0259_, but _ai_ [the sound in _time_] in Hrt. Lon. Ess. and se.Kent.\n\n(2) _e._ O.E. _e_ of whatever origin has in close syllables generally\nhad the same development in the dialects as in the standard language,\nbut in many of the s.Sc. e. and sw.Cy. dialects it has become _\u00e6_ [the\nsound in _hat_, _man_]. O.E. _e_ of whatever origin, has in originally\nopen syllables generally had the same development in Sc. n. and s.Cy. as\nin the standard language, i.e. it has become _\u012b_, but in the s.Midl.\ne.Cy. and sw.Cy. dialects it has mostly become _\u0113_, and in the other\ndialects it has generally been diphthongized into _ei_ or _i\u0259_, the\nformer occurring especially in the w. and s. portions of Yks., in Lan.\nn.Stf. and Nhp., and the latter in the remaining portions of Yks. Lan.\nand in Lin. s.Oxf. and w.Wil.\n\n(3) _i._ This vowel has generally had the same development in the\ndialects as in the standard language, but in s.Sc. n.Nhb. n.Cum. Der.\nand w.Som. it has become _e_. In most Sc. dialects except in the south,\nit has become a kind of mixed vowel somewhat resembling the _e_ in\nGerman _Gabe_.\n\n(4) _u._ This vowel has had the same development in Sc. n.Nhb. n.Cum.\ne. s. and sw.Cy. and in some of the s.Midl. dialects as in the standard\nlanguage, but in the n.Cy. and many of the n.Midl. dialects O.E. _u_\nhas generally remained unchanged. In some of the n.Midl. and many of\nthe s.Midl. dialects it has become _\u00f9_, a sound formed with the lips\nmore open than for _u_, and which acoustically resembles an _o_-sound.\nIt should be noted that those dialects which have _\u0252_ or _\u00f9_, generally\nalso have it in those words where the standard language has _u_, as in\n_bull_, _put_.\n\n(5) _y._ This vowel has generally had the same development as in the\nstandard language, but in Ken. e.Sc. and e.An. it has regularly become\n_e_, which was a characteristic feature of these dialects already in the\nM.E. period.\n\n(6) _o._ In close syllables. This vowel has generally had the same\ndevelopment in the dialects as in the standard language, but in the\nm.Sc. s.Midl. s. and sw.Cy. dialects there is a tendency to lengthen the\nvowel in monosyllables, and in some dialects there is also a tendency to\nchange _o_ to _a_ especially before a following _p_ and _ft_, as _shap_,\n_tap_, _craft_, lit. Eng. _shop_, _top_, _croft_.\n\n_o._ In originally open syllables. In the development of this vowel\nthe dialects differ entirely from the standard language. In the\nsouthern portions of Yks. and Lan. it has become _oi_ (parallel with\nthe development of _e_ to _ei_, v. (2) above), but in all the other\ndialects it has become long close _\u014d_ or has become diphthongized to\n_u\u0259_ (often written _o\u0259_). It should be noted that in Lan. ne.Der. and\nall the dialects north of the Humber the development of O.E. _o_ in\nopen syllables and O.E. _\u0101_ is still kept apart, whereas in all the\nother parts of England the two sounds have fallen together.\n\n(7) _\u0101._ In all the dialects north of the Humber this vowel has had\nthe same development as O.E. _a_, _\u00e6_, in open syllables, i.e. it has\nbecome _\u0113_, _e\u0259_, or _i\u0259_(_ia_), whereas in the dialects south of the\nHumber the regular development is generally the same as for O.E. _o_ in\nopen syllables.\n\n(8) _\u01e3_ (= Germanic _\u01e3_, W.S. _\u01e3_, Anglian _\u0113_). This vowel has\ngenerally had the same development in the dialects as in the standard\nlanguage, i.e. it has become _\u012b_, but in the southern half of England it\nhas not unfrequently become _\u0113_ or _i\u0259_, rarely _ei_, and these\ndiphthongs also occur sporadically as far north as Yorkshire.\n\n(9) _\u01e3_ (= _i_-umlaut of _\u0101_). This vowel has generally had the same\ndevelopment as the preceding one, except that the _\u0113_ and _i\u0259_ extend\nover a much wider area, which shows that many dialects still keep these\ntwo sounds apart (_\u01e3\u00b9_ and _\u01e3\u00b2_).\n\n(10) _\u0113._ This vowel has mostly become _\u012b_ in the dialects just as in\nthe standard language, but _ei_ beside _\u012b_ occurs in nw.Yks s.Chs. and\nLei., and _i\u0259_ beside _\u012b_ in m.Yks. s.Midl. and sw.Cy.\n\n(11) _\u012b._ O.E. _\u012b_ appears as a diphthong in all the dialects except\nin those of e. and se.Yks. m. and s.Lan. where we have _\u0101_. In Sc. and\nNhb. it is mostly _ei_, but _ai_ is also not uncommon, especially in\nFrf. Per. Lth. and Edb.; n.Cy. _ai_; in the Midlands, e. and s.Cy. it\nis generally _oi_ or a diphthong closely resembling _oi_; and in sw.Cy.\n_\u0252i_, which is approximately the same as in the standard language.\n\n(12) _\u014d._ The normal development of this vowel is generally \u00fc or \u00f6\n(rarely _\u01d6_ or _\u0153\u0304_, but _\u012b_ in ne.Sc.) in Sc.; _\u01d6_ in e.Cy.;\n_\u01d6_ beside _\u0153\u0304_ in sw.Cy.; _iu_ beside _i\u0259_ in n.Cy., but sw.Yks.\n_ui_; and _\u016b_, more rarely _iu_, in the Midlands; _\u016b_, in s.Cy.\n\n(13) _\u016b._ O.E. _\u016b_ has generally remained in Sc. and n.Cy. (but _\u0252u_\nin s.Sc. when final) and n.Lin. It has become _\u0101_ in s. and sw.Yks. and\nthe greater part of Der. and Not.; _\u01e3_ in Lan., _\u0252u_ in the Midlands,\nespecially in the northern portions, and sw.Cy.; _eu_ in the southern\nportions of the Midlands, e. and s.Cy. and parts of sw.Cy.\n\n(14) _\u0233._ This vowel has generally had the same development as O.E.\n_\u012b_, but it has become _\u012b_ in the eastern counties and also in Glo.\nBdf. e.Sus. Dev. and Cor.\n\n(15) O.E. _e\u035ea_. This diphthong has generally had the same development\nas O.E. _\u01e3_ (= _i_-umlaut of _\u0101_).\n\n(16) O.E. _e\u035eo_ has generally had the same development as O.E. _\u0113_.\n\n[Sidenote: _Phonology: Consonants_]\n\nCONSONANTS.--(1) The Semi-vowels. (_a_) _w._ Initial _w_ has\ngenerally remained before vowels, but in parts of Sc. Midl. e.An. and\nsw.Cy. it has disappeared in certain words, mainly where it stands\nbefore a following _u_, such as _woman_, _wonder_, _wood_, _wool_,\n_wound_, &c. There are no examples in the dialects of initial _w_\nbeing changed to _v_ before a following vowel. This sound-change,\ncharacteristic of the language spoken by Mr. Samuel Weller and his\nfather--\u2018ven\u2019, \u2018vay\u2019, \u2018svear\u2019, \u2018anyveres\u2019, &c.--seems to have been\ninvented by Dickens. The converse, namely, the change of initial _v_ to\n_w_, does occur in Bck. Nrf. Suf. Ess. Ken. e.Sus., and Dickens would\nhave heard this pronunciation--_wery_, very, _wenter_, venture--used by\nthe class of person typified in Sam Weller, but there is no authority\nfor the change of _w_ to _v_, and it can only be described as \u2018artist\u2019s\nlicence\u2019. An initial _w_ has often arisen in the dialects through a\nfalling diphthong having become a rising diphthong, e.g. in such words\nas _wome_, _wum_, _woats_, _wold_, lit. Eng. _home_, _oats_, _old_.\nThis accounts for the _w_ in the place-names Woking, Wokingham, which\nwithin living memory were pronounced Oaking, Oakingham, and for the\npronunciation of lit. Eng. _one_, _once_, and the spelling _whole_.\nInitial _hw_ has become _f_ in ne.Sc. in such words as _what_, _wheat_,\n_wheel_, &c. Initial _kw_ has often become _tw_ in n.Cy. dialects,\nin such words as _twilt_, lit. Eng. _quilt_. A _w_ has often been\ndeveloped before a back vowel preceded by a consonant, especially a\nlabial, more rarely when preceded by a guttural, dental, nasal, or\nliquid. This _w_ is chiefly confined to the s.Midl. s. and sw. dialects\nwhen the preceding consonant is a labial, as _bwone_, _bwoy_, _pwoizn_,\nlit. Eng. _bone_, _boy_, _poison_. Medial _w_ has generally disappeared\nin words compounded with _-ward_, _-worth_, as _awkward_, _backward_,\n_pennyworth_, &c. It has also generally disappeared in _always_, and in\n_somewhat_.\n\n(_b_) _j._ This consonant is represented in modern English spelling by\n_y_. An initial _j_ has often arisen in the dialects through a falling\ndiphthong having become a rising diphthong, as _jabl_, _jek_, _ji\u0259r_,\nlit. Eng. _able_, _ache_, _ear_. Many educated people in the south of\nEngland make no difference in the pronunciation of _ear_ and _year_. A\ns.Midl. s.Cy. saying to express a long period of time is \u2018years and\nyears and donkey\u2019s ears\u2019. A medial _j_ has often been developed after a\nconsonant. In many cases the change has been caused by a falling\ndiphthong having become a rising diphthong, e.g. _gj\u0101rdin_, _kjetl_,\nlit. Eng. _garden_, _kettle_.\n\n(2) The Liquids. (_a_) _l._ Medial _l_ has often disappeared,\nespecially in the combinations _ld_, _lf_, _lh_, _lk_, _lp_, _ls_, and\n_lt_, e.g. in such words as _bald_, _bulk_, _pulpit_, _false_, _bolt_.\nFinal _l_ has often disappeared after a guttural vowel, especially in\nthe Sc. Ir. n.Cy. and n.Midl. dialects, e.g. in such words as _all_,\n_fool_, _pull_, _small_, _wool_.\n\n(_b_) _r._ In Sc. and the greater part of Irel. and the northern parts\nof Nhb. and Cum. _r_ has a strong trill. In Nhb. and parts of n.Dur. it\nis a uvular _r_, not unlike the French _r_. It is often called \u2018the\nNorthumberland burr\u2019. In all the s. and sw. dialects it is a reverted or\nretracted _r_, the trill being indistinct and less sharp than for the\nSc. _r_. Similarly in these dialects the _l_ is reverted. In the rest of\nEngland _r_ has had practically the same development as in the standard\nlanguage. When a word ends in and the next word begins with a vowel, a\n\u2018euphonic\u2019 _r_ is generally inserted to avoid a hiatus, in the s.Midl.,\neastern, southern, and south-western dialects, as _aidi\u0259r \u0259v it_, idea\nof it, _S\u0113r\u0259r An_, Sarah Ann, _l\u01edr \u0259v I\u014bgl\u0259nd_, law of England.\nAnd an _r_ is sometimes inserted medially, as _dr\u01edrin_, drawing. This\ninsertion of \u2018euphonic\u2019 _r_ is not confined to dialect speakers, it is\nquite common among educated people in the s.Midl. and s. counties, and\nseems to be spreading gradually further north. _r_ has often undergone\nmetathesis, especially in the sw. dialects in _ap\u0259\u0304n_, _t\u0283ild\u0259n_,\n_g\u0259rn_, _h)und\u0259d_, _p\u0259\u0304ti_, &c., lit. Eng. _apron_, _children_,\n_grin_, _hundred_, _pretty_, &c.\n\n(3) The Nasals. (_a_) _m._ This consonant has generally remained\nunchanged in all positions except where after consonants it has become\nvocalic, as in _bodm_, _botm_, _kindm_, &c., lit. Eng. _bottom_,\n_kingdom_, &c.\n\n(_b_) _n._ Initial _n_ has remained in _nadder_ (O.E. _n\u01e3dre_),\n_napron_ (O.Fr. _naperon_), _nauger_ (M.E. _nauger_), lit. Eng.\n_adder_, _apron_, _auger_. In the various dialects there is a large\nnumber of words which have an inorganic initial _n_. It has arisen\npartly from the _n_ of the indefinite article _an_, and partly from\nthe _n_ of the possessive pronoun _mine_; the latter is especially the\ncase in words denoting relationship, as _n-oration_, a great noise or\nclamour, _n-urchin_, a hedgehog, _n-awl_, _n-aunt_, _n-uncle_, cp.\n\u2018Nuncle Lear, nuncle Lear, tarry and take the fool with thee,\u2019 _Lear_,\nI. iv. 338. The _n_ in lit. Eng. _nickname_ (M.E. _ekename_), _newt_\n(O.E. _efeta_) is of this origin. The normal form _evet_ is common in\nthe dialects of southern England. In a few words _n_ has been developed\nbefore medial _d\u021d_; [the final sound in _bridge_], as _porind\u021d\u0259(r_, a\ncoarse pot or mug used for porridge, _sosind\u021d\u0259(r_, sausage, cp. lit.\nEng. _messenger_, _passenger_, for _messager_, _passager_. In the n.\nand n.Midl. dialects medial _n_ has disappeared in unaccented syllables\nas _Li\u014bki\u0283\u0259(r_, Lincolnshire, _Robisn_, Robinson, &c. In a few words,\nmainly in n.Cy. dialects, final _n_ occurs contrary to the usage of the\nlit. language; these are: _aivin_ (O.E. _\u012bfig_, _\u012bfegn_), ivy, _holin_\n(O.E. _holen_, _holegn_), holly, _miln_ (O.E. _mylen_), mill, _ratn_\n(O.Fr. _raton_), rat, _sl\u014dn_ (O.E. _sl\u0101h_, _sl\u0101_, plur. _sl\u0101n_), sloe.\n\nThe guttural _\u014b_ [the final sound in _hang_], written _n_ in O.E.,\nonly occurred before the gutturals _g_ and _c_. In stressed syllables\nmedial _\u014bg_ has become _\u014b_ in Sc. Irel. n.Cy. n.Midl. and parts of Ken.\nSus. and Som., as _fi\u014b\u0259r_, finger, _si\u014bl_, single, &c. _\u014b_ has become\n_n_ before a following dental in _len\u00fe_, length, _stren\u00fe_, strength,\nin Sc. Irel. and n.Cy. The _n_ is also very common in other parts of\nEngland, but beside it there exist the forms _le\u014b\u00fe_, _le\u014bk\u00fe_; _stre\u014b\u00fe_,\n_stre\u014bk\u00fe_. The forms with _k_ are often used by educated people in the\nMidlands. Medial _\u014b_ in unstressed syllables has generally disappeared,\nas _Bebitn_, Bebbington, _Notig\u0259m_, Nottingham, &c. Final unstressed\n_\u014b_ has generally become _n_ in all the dialects, as in _evenin(g)_,\n_farthin(g)_, _mornin(g)_, _sendin(g)_, and similarly in all present\nparticiples and verbal nouns in _-ing_. In parts of Lan. Chs. Der. when\ndialect speakers try to talk \u2018fine\u2019 they generally substitute _\u014bk_ for\n_\u014b_ in all present participles and verbal nouns in _-ing_. The same\nthing can often be heard among educated speakers in those parts.\n\n(4) The Labials. (_a_) _p._ This consonant has generally remained in\nall positions the same as in the standard language.\n\n(_b_) _b._ This consonant hardly ever occurs in any of the dialects\nbetween _m--l_ or _m--r_ in such words as _bramble_, _thimble_,\n_chamber_, _number_. The word _marble_ appears in almost all the\ndialects as _marvl_. The form _pipl_, pebble, occurs in some s. and sw.\ndialects, cp. O.E. _papol-_ beside M.E. _pibble-_, _pobble_.\n\n(_c_) _f._ Initial voiceless _f_ has become the voiced spirant _v_ in\ne.Hrf., parts of Glo., w.Brks. Wil. Dor. Dev. Som. The change must have\ntaken place at a very early period because it is confined almost\nexclusively to native words, hence it must have taken place before the\ninflux of French words. Three examples of this dialect peculiarity have\nbeen incorporated into lit. Eng., viz. _vixen_, _vat_, _vane_ (O.E.\n_fyxen_, _f\u00e6t_, _fana_).\n\n(5) The Dentals. (_a_) _t._ The initial combinations _tr_ and _str_\nhave become _t\u00fer_, _st\u00fer_, or _\u00fer_, _s\u00fer_ in Irel. Wm. e. and se. Yks.\ne. em. and s.Lan. I.Ma., as _t\u00fer\u012b_, _\u00fer\u012b_, tree, _st\u00fer\u012bt_, _s\u00fer\u012bt_,\nstreet. Medial _t_ between vowels and vowel-like consonants has become\n_d_ in the sw. dialects, as _bodl_, bottle, _kedl_, kettle; _bodm_,\nbottom, occurs also in Sc. and n.Cy. dialects, but this goes back to\na form _bodan_ which existed beside _botm_ already in O.E. The _t_ in\nFrench words which has become _t\u0283_ [the sound of the medial consonant\nin _nature_] in lit. Eng. through the influence of the following\n_\u00fc_ has remained unchanged in the dialects, as _pikt\u0259(r_, picture,\n_fi\u0259t\u0259(r_, feature. Final _t_ has disappeared in many dialects after\nvoiceless consonants, especially in the combination _st_; finally\nafter _k_ and _p_ it has disappeared in all Sc. dialects, as _fak(t_,\n_korek(t_, _temp(t_. Examples of the loss of _t_ after _s_ occur in\nall parts of Sc. Irel. and Eng. especially in such words as _beast_,\n_joist_, _last_, _next_. In a few instances a _t_ has been added after\n_n_, _f_, or _s_, as _s\u0101m\u0259nt_, sermon, _sud\u0259nt_, sudden, _v\u0101mint_,\nvermin, _teligraft_, telegraph, _aist_, ice, _naist_, nice, _w\u0259nst_,\nonce, _tweist_, twice. This excrescent _t_ occurs in certain words in\nthe standard language, e.g. _against_ (M.E. _ageines_), _amidst_ (M.E.\n_amiddes_), _behest_ (O.E. _h\u01e3s_), _betwixt_ (O.E. and M.E. _betwix_),\n_whilst_ (M.E. _whiles_), _ancient_ (Fr. _ancien_), _pheasant_ (O.Fr.\n_faisan_).\n\n(_b_) _d._ Intervocalic _d_ followed by _r_ in the next syllable\nbecame in the first instance _\u00f0_ in all dialects, as _bla\u00f0\u0259(r_, bladder,\n_konsi\u00f0\u0259(r_, consider, _fo\u00f0\u0259(r_, fodder, _p\u016b\u00f0\u0259(r_, powder, &c., in\naddition to the words which have _\u00f0_ in the standard language, as\n_father_, _gather_, _mother_, _weather_, &c. (O.E. _f\u00e6der_, _g\u00e6drian_,\n_m\u014ddor_, _weder_, &c.). Examples of the _\u00f0_ forms begin to appear about\nthe year 1500, but the change has never been consistently carried out in\nthe literary language, whilst in the dialects its operation has been\nregular. Where exceptions seem to occur they are due either to the\ninfluence of the standard language or to the sound-change given below.\nThis _\u00f0_ from _d_ (O.E. _f\u00e6der_, &c.) fell together with O.E. _\u00f0_ in the\nsame position (O.E. _fe\u00f0er_, &c.), and underwent all further changes in\ncommon with it. It has thus become (1) _d_ beside _d\u00f0_ n.Cum. Wm. and\nparts of Yks. and Lan., (2) _d_ in sn.Sc. n.Cy. and se.Cy. dialects. The\nwords _burden_ (O.E. _byr\u00feen_) and _murder_ (O.E. _myr\u00feran_) had a\nspirant already in O.E. The forms with _\u00f0_ are still very common in Sc.\nIrel. n.Cy. Lan. Stf. Der. e.An. Medial _d_ very seldom occurs in any of\nthe dialects between _n--l_ or _n--r_ in such words as _bundle_,\n_candle_, _gander_, _thunder_, &c. Medial _d_ has regularly disappeared\nafter _n_ in the Sc. dialects except in those of the south, as _sin\u0259r_,\ncinder, _w\u0252n\u0259r_, wonder, &c. Final _d_ has a tendency in all dialects\nexcept those of the e. and se. counties to become _t_ in words of more\nthan one syllable, especially after _n_ and _r_, as _bi-jont_, beyond,\n&c. Final _d_ has generally disappeared after _n_ in Sc., but in the\nsouthern counties of Sc. it has only disappeared in the conjunction\n_and_, the present participles, and in the pret. and pp. of strong verbs\nwhose present ends in _-nd_. This loss of final _d_ in the pret. and pp.\nof verbs like _bind_, _find_, _grind_ is quite regular in Sc. Irel. and\nthe north and north Midl. counties.\n\n(_c_) _\u00fe._ Initial _\u00fe_ has generally remained voiceless except in\npronouns and the adverbs derived from them, as in the lit. language. The\ndefinite article has undergone various changes. It has become (1) _t_ in\nme.Nhb. Cum. Wm. n. e. nm. sw. and s.Yks. nw.Lan. n.Lin. (2) _\u00fe_ in m.\nand se.Lan. wm.Stf. (3) _t_, _\u00fe_ sm. and w.Yks. n. em. sw. and s.Lan.\nChs. n.Stf. Der. Not. (4) _d\u0259_ Ken. Sus. (5) _d_, _t_ w.Dur. ne.Yks. (6)\n_d_, _t_, _\u00fe_ nw. and e.Yks. (7) _e_ Cai. Bnff. In all other dialects it\nhas had the same development as in lit. Eng., viz. _\u00f0\u012b\u0306_, _\u00f0\u0259_. In\nthose dialects which have both _t_ and _\u00fe_, the former is used before\nconsonants (_tman_, &c.), and the latter before vowels (_\u00feapl_, &c.),\nand when the sentence begins with the definite article.\n\n(6) The Sibilants. _s._ Initial voiceless _s_ has become _z_ in those\ndialects where _f_ in the same position has become _v_, cp. (4)(_c_)\nabove. There is in the dialects a large number of words beginning with\n_s_ plus a consonant where in most cases the _s_ is not original. It\noccurs most frequently in the combinations _sk_ and _sq_. In fact nearly\nall the _sq_ words occurring in the dialects have forms with and without\ninitial _s_. No rule can be laid down about the geographical\ndistribution of the words belonging to this category. Examples are:\n_sclasp_ beside _clasp_, _sclimb_ beside _climb_, _scrawl_ beside\n_crawl_, _scroodle_ beside _croodle_, to crouch, _skist_ beside _kist_,\na chest, _snotch_ beside _notch_, _squench_ beside _quench_, _strample_\nbeside _trample_, &c., &c. Dr. Johnson was familiar with _scraunch_\nbeside _craunch_, cp. \u2018To Craunch. v.a. [_schrantsen_, Dutch; whence the\nvulgar say more properly to _scraunch_.] To crush in the mouth. The word\nis used by _Swift_.\u2019 In Glo. and the s. and sw. counties _sp_ has\ngenerally become _ps_ by metathesis, as _aps_, asp, _klaps_, clasp,\n_lipsy_, to lisp; _w\u00e6ps_ and _w\u00e6sp_ existed in O.E., so in the modern\ndialects there are double forms.\n\n(7) The Gutturals. (_a_) _k._ Initial _k_, generally written _c_ in\nO.E., has remained before _n_ in such words as _knave_, _knead_, _knit_,\n_knock_, &c., in ne.Sc. In the remaining parts of Scotland it has\ndisappeared in the dialect of the younger generation. In the early part\nof the last century it was preserved in all Sc. dialects. _tn_ from\nolder _kn_ is still used by old people in w.Frf. and e.Per. A generation\nago this _tn_ was also common in the dialects of Cum. and Wm., but it is\nnow obsolete. Initial _cl_ has become _tl_ in many of the dialects of\nEng. especially in Yks. Lan. the Midlands, and the s. and sw. dialects,\nin such words as _clap_, _claw_, _cliff_, _climb_, _cloak_, _cloud_. No\nSc. or Ir. dialect has changed initial _cl_ to _tl_. In other respects\ninitial _c_ has generally had the same development in the dialects as\nin the standard language. Initial _sc_ has become, \u0283 [the initial sound\nin _she_] in native Eng. words just as in the lit. language, as _shade_,\n_shell_, _ship_, &c.; whereas in words of foreign origin it has remained\nin the dialects just as in the lit. language, as _scaffold_, _scale_,\n_scatter_, _school_, _skin_, &c. Excluding all _sc-_ words which are of\nvarious origins and which are common both to the lit. language and the\ndialects--such as the words in the above list: _scaffold_, _scale_,\n&c.--it is a remarkable fact that the _English Dialect Dictionary_\ncontains no less than 1,154 simple _sc-_ words. This points to one of\ntwo things: either the dialects contain a far larger number of Norse\nwords than is generally supposed, or else it is not certain that initial\n_sc_ has under all circumstances become \u0283 in native words in the\ndialects. Words where a final _k_ has become _t\u0283_ in the lit. lang.\ngenerally have _t\u0283_ also in the dialects, as _bleach_, _flitch_,\n_reach_, _stitch_, &c. But in the dialects of Sc. Irel. n.Cy. and parts\nof the n.Midlands assibilation has not taken place to the same extent as\nin the lit. language, hence such forms as _skr\u012bk_, _sik_, _\u00feak_, &c.,\nlit. Eng. _screech_, _such_, _thatch_, &c.\n\n(_b_) _g._ Initial _g_ has remained before _n_ in _gnat_, _gnaw_ in\nne. and s.n.Sc., but it has disappeared in the remaining parts of Sc.\nIrel. and Eng. Initial _gl_ has become _dl_ in many dialects of Eng.,\nespecially in Yks. Lan. the Midlands, and the s. and sw. dialects,\nparallel to the change of _cl_ to _tl_.\n\nFinal _g_. O.E. geminated _g_, written _cg_, has generally become\n_d\u021d_ [the final sound in _sedge_] in the dialects in such words as\n_bridge_, _edge_, _ridge_, &c., but as in the case of the change of\nfinal _k_ to _t\u0283_, in Sc. and the northern parts of Eng. assibilation\nhas not taken place to the same extent as in the lit. language, hence\nsuch forms as _brig_, _rig_, _seg_, &c., lit. Eng. _bridge_, _ridge_,\n_sedge_, &c.\n\n(_c_) _h._ Initial _h_ has remained before vowels in Sc. Irel. Nhb.\nand perhaps also in portions of n.Dur. and n.Cum. In the remaining\nparts of Eng. it has disappeared, but words originally beginning with a\nvowel or _h_ often have an _h_ prefixed when the dialect speaker wishes\nto express a strong emphasis. The emphatic form of _it_ has retained\nthe _h_ in Sc. and Irel. The emphatic form of _us_ is _h\u0252z_ in Sc. and\nNhb., the only word in the Sc. dialects containing an inorganic _h_.\nMedial and final \u03c7 [the final sound in Sc. _loch_] has generally become\n_f_ in the dialects of Eng. in those words which have _f_ in the lit.\nlanguage, as _cough_, _laugh_, _rough_, _tough_, but _f_ also occurs in\nmany dialects in certain other words besides, as _daft\u0259r_, _slaft\u0259r_,\n_\u00feoft_, _\u00feruf_, &c., lit. Eng. _daughter_, _slaughter_, _thought_,\n_through_, &c.\n\nTo turn now from phonology to accidence, we shall find that here,\ntoo, system and rule prevail to a surprising extent.\n\n\nTHE ARTICLES\n\n[Sidenote: _Accidence: The Articles_]\n\nA. The Indefinite Article. Very few dialects follow the rule of the\nliterary language according to which _an_ is used before a vowel or _h_\nmute. _\u0259_ is used before vowels and consonants, as _\u0259 apl_, an apple.\nWhen _n_ is used it is generally attached to the noun, as _\u0259 napl_. In\nall the dialects of Sc. Irel. and Eng. the indefinite article is used\nredundantly before numerals and nouns of multitude and quantity, as:\nmore than a twenty of them; a many; a plenty; cp. lit. Eng. a few. This\nconstruction occurs in our older literature, cp. \u2018A many fools,\u2019 _Mer.\nof Venice_, III. v. 73.\n\nB. The Definite Article. The dialect forms of the definite article\nhave been given above under the consonant _\u00fe_. In those dialects where\nthe form is _t_, should the following word begin with a dental, the\nonly trace of the article is the suspension of the dental. A clear\ndistinction is made between _te\u0259bl_, table, and _t\u2019e\u0259bl_, the table,\n_dlium_, gloom, and _d\u2019lium_, the gloom. These same dialects, owing\nto liturgical influence, use the full form _\u00f0\u0259_ before _lo\u0259d_, Lord,\nwhen applied to the Deity, save in off-hand speech and in the phrase\n_lo\u0259d n\u01edz_, the Lord knows, where the article is omitted altogether.\nThe ending of the O.E. neuter form of the definite article survives in\n_t\u014dn_, the one (O.E. _\u00f0\u00e6t \u0101n_), and _tu\u00f0\u0259(r, t\u0252\u00f0\u0259(r_, the other (O.E.\n_\u00f0\u00e6t \u014d\u00f0er_). These words are in general use in the dialects of Sc.\nIrel. and Eng.; their origin being forgotten, the ordinary form of the\ndefinite article is often used redundantly before them.\n\nThe definite article is used in many dialects in cases where it would\nbe omitted in the lit. language:\n\n(_a_) In the dialects of Sc. Irel. and Eng. before the names of all\ndiseases, as: he has got the fever, the rheumatics.\n\n(_b_) In the Sc. Midl. and sw.Cy. dialects before the names of trades\nand occupations, generally with a frequentative force implying the\npractising or learning of the trade, e.g. We\u2019ve a-boun un purntice to\nthe shoemakerin\u2019 (Som.), Apprentices and improvers wanted to the\nDressmaking.\n\n(_c_) In Sc. before the names of sciences and commodities, as: he\nstudies the botany; the sugar is cheap.\n\n(_d_) In the Sc. and Midl. dialects before the names of days, months,\nseasons, especially when speaking of any particular circumstance\nconnected therewith, as: he died in the Christmas.\n\n(_e_) In the dialects of Sc. and n.Cy. before certain words, as\nchurch, school, bed, when these are used absolutely or indefinitely,\nas: it\u2019s wearisome lying in the bed.\n\n(_f_) In the Sc. n.Cy. and Midl. dialects before ordinals used\nadverbially, as: Tom came in the second and Jack the third.\n\n(_g_) In Irel. and most parts of Eng. before _both_, as: I will have\nthe both of them.\n\n(_h_) In w.Yks. before proper names, and in the sw. dialects whenever\na proper name or title is preceded by an adj., as: T\u2019Skipton, T\u2019Hawes;\nthe young squire Jones.\n\n(_i_) In I.Ma. before an adj. when special stress is required,\ngenerally with inversion of verb and adj., as: the sick I am.\n\n\nNOUNS\n\n[Sidenote: _Accidence: Nouns_]\n\nThe formation of the plural of nouns is practically the same as in the\nstandard language, but a few points of deviation are worth notice. Nouns\nending in _\u00fe_ which in the lit. language change _\u00fe_ to _\u00f0_ and take _z_\nin the plural, as _p\u0101\u00fe_, _p\u0101\u00f0z_, generally retain the _\u00fe_ and take _s_\nin the plural in the dialects; similarly in Sc. and sw. dialects nouns\nending in _lf_ retain the _f_ in the plural and take _s_. Nouns ending\nin _st_ form their plural in _\u0259z_, _iz_ in the Midl. s. and sw.\ndialects, as _b\u012bst_, beast, _b\u012bst\u0259z_, _p\u014dst_, post, _p\u014dst\u0259z_. Very\nfrequently, however, such nouns take a double plural, as _b\u012bst\u0259z\u0259z_,\n_post\u0259z\u0259z_. A triple plural _nests\u0259z\u0259z_, nests, is found in Sus. The\nonly plurals in _-n_ in the lit. language are _oxen_ and the archaic\nform _hosen_. _Brethren_, _children_, and _kine_ are double plurals. The\nlist is much longer in the dialects and comprises: (_a_) Words which\nbelonged to the weak declension in O.E.: _\u00e6\u0283n_, ashes, s.w.Cy.; _b\u012bn_,\nbees, Irel. Chs.; _\u012bn_, eyes, in general use in Sc. Irel. and Eng.;\n_fl\u012bn_, fleas, Midl.; _p\u012bzn_, peas, Wxf. Eng. gen.; _t\u014dn,_ toes, Wxf.\ns.Chs. (_b_) Words which originally belonged to the strong or irregular\ndeclensions: _br\u00f9\u00f0r\u0259n_, brothers, Lei.; _t\u0283\u012bzn_, cheeses, e.An. Dor.;\n_kl\u016btn_, clouts, e.Yks.; _v\u0259zn_, furze, Dor.; _h)\u0252uzn_, houses, gen. in\nEng. except n.Cy.; _k\u012bn_, keys, Wil.; _m\u0252uzn_, mice, Glo. e.Dev.;\n_n\u012bzn_, nests, s.Chs. Midl. e.An.; _\u014dkn_, oaks, Hrf.; _p\u014dzn_, posts,\nNhp. Shr. Glo. Hnt.; _riksn_, rushes, sw.Cy.; _\u0283\u016bn_, shoes, gen. in Sc.\nIrel. and Eng.; _sistr\u0259n_, sisters, Cai.; _tr\u012bn_, trees, Fif. Wxf.;\n_t\u0252rvn_, turfs, Sc.; _wopsn_, wasps, Hmp.; _wen\u0283n_, wenches, Glo. (_c_)\nRomance words to which the weak ending has been added: _botln_, bottles,\nsw.Dev.; _kl\u014dzn_, fields, Lei. Nhp. e.An.; _fe\u0259rin_, fairies, e.Lan.;\n_pl\u0113zn_, places, Midl. sw.Cy.; _primr\u014dzn_, primroses, Glo. Dev.\n\nThe plural form _t\u0283ild\u0259(r_, children, in general use in Irel. and Eng.\nis the regular form from the O.E. plural _cildru_. In the lit. language\nthe _r_ has ceased to be felt as a sign of the plural and the weak _-n_\nhas been added. Certain nouns form their plural by change of vowel as in\nthe literary language; these are: foot feet, goose geese, louse lice,\nman men, mouse mice, tooth teeth, woman women; _bre\u00f0\u0259(r_, _bru\u00f0\u0259(r_,\nbrother makes _bre\u00f0\u0259(r_ in parts of Sc., n.Yks. Lan.; _kau_, cow, makes\n_kai_, Sc. n.Irel. n.Cy. n.Midl. sw.Cy. On the other hand _fut_, foot,\nmakes _futs_ e.Suf., _l\u0252us_, louse, _l\u0252us\u0259z_, Abd. e.Sus. n.Dev.,\n_m\u0252us_, mouse, _m\u0252us\u0259z_, m.Bck. e.Sus.\n\nCertain nouns have the singular and plural alike, as: _as_, ash,\nashes, Sc. Irel. n.Cy. Midl.; _t\u0283ik_, chicken, chickens, e.Sus.;\n_t\u0283ikn_, ibid., Glo. Oxf. Ken. m.Sus. Som.; _f\u0252ul_, fowl, fowls, Sc.\nShr.; _hors_, horse, horses; and a few others; _b\u012bst_, an animal of\nthe ox tribe, has a collective plural _b\u012bs_ _(bi\u0259s)_ in Sc. Yks. Lan.\nMidl. and sw.Cy. On the other hand, corn has a plural _kornz_, oats,\nin Sc.; _\u0283ip_, sheep, makes _\u0283ips_ in War. Shr. Glo. Nouns expressing\ntime, space, weight, measure, and number, when immediately preceded by\na cardinal number, generally remain unchanged in the dialects of Sc.\nand Eng.\n\nDouble plurals are common in the dialects, for example: (_a_) _\u0259z_,\n_iz_ is added to the ordinary plural ending _s_, _z_, in: _bel\u0259s\u0259z_,\nbellows, n. and nm.Sc. Irel. n.Cy. Midl. sw.Cy.; _bu\u0259dz\u0259z_, boards,\nSus.; _gal\u0259s\u0259z_, braces, n.Cy.; _\u00e6mz\u0259z_, hames, sw.Cy.; _keks\u0259z_, a\nplant, Midl. Ken. Sur. Dor.; _\u0283\u016bz\u0259z_, shoes, Nrf. Dev.; _s\u01edts\u0259z_,\nsorts, Brks.; _steps\u0259z_, steps, w. and sw.Yks. w.Som.; _\u00fer\u012bz\u0259z_,\nthrees, _t\u016bz\u0259z_, twos, Brks. e.An.; _to\u014bziz_, tongs, w.Wil. w.Som.\n(_b_) _z_ is added to the plural _-n_: _br\u012bknz_, breeches, &c.;\n_oksnz_, oxen, w.Som.; _pl\u0113zns_, places, Not.; _riksnz_, rushes, Dev.;\n_\u0283\u016bnz_, shoes, Sc.; _sl\u014dnz_, sloes, Midl. e.Cy. sw.Cy. (_c_) _s_, _\u0259z_\nis added to umlaut plurals: _f\u012bts_, feet, Sc. se.Yks. Glo.; _g\u012bz\u0259z_,\ngeese, Nhb.; _m\u012bz\u0259z_, mice, Ess. (_d_) _t\u0283ild\u0259\u0304z_, children, occurs in\nw.Yks. (_e_) The weak ending _-n_ is sometimes added to the ordinary\n_s_, _z_: _\u01edzn_, haws, Glo.; _ipsn_, hips, Oxf. n.Wil.; _\u0252ksn_,\nhocks, Ken. Dev. Cor.; _n\u012bzn_, knees, s.Chs. (_f_) The weak plural\nending is sometimes added to the umlaut plural: _f\u012btn_, feet, e.An.;\n_g\u012bzn_, geese, Suf.; _kain_, kine, Ayr. Gall. Wxf. n.Cy. Ken. Dev.;\n_m\u012bzn_, mice, Cmb. Suf. Triple plurals occur in: _\u01edznz_, haws, Glo.;\n_ipsnz_, hips, Oxf. n.Wil. In some nouns the plural form is used for\nthe singular, as: _\u01edz_, a haw, Oxf. Suf. Ess. Ken.; _inz_, an inn, Sc.\nn.Irel.; _sl\u014dn_, a sloe, Midl. s. and sw.Cy.; &c. In certain words the\n_s_ of the stem has been taken as the sign of the plural, and a new\nsingular formed without it, as: _karit\u0283_, catechism, Fr. _cat\u00e9ch\u00e8se_,\nSc. n.Yks.; _\u0283\u0113_, chaise, Yks. Lan. m.Bck. e.Sus.; _h\u014d_, a single\nstocking, Sc. _piz_, a single pea, in Bch. Abd. is a survival of O.E.\n_pise_; in the lit. language a new singular has been formed, but cp.\n_pease-pudding_. Other examples of the formation of a new singular\nwithout _s_ in the lit. language are: _burial_, O.E. _byrgels_;\n_riddle_, O.E. _r\u01e3dels_; _cherry_, Fr. _cerise_; _sherry_, formerly\n_sherris_, Span. _Xeres_; _skate_, Du. _schaats_, Fr. _\u00e9chasse_.\n\nThe following nouns, though remaining singular in form, take the\nplural form of the verb and pronoun and are used after few, &c., as:\n_br\u014dz_, a kind of porridge, Sc.; _bro\u00fe_, broth, Sc. n.Ir. n.Cy. Midl.\ne.An. sw.Cy.; _brouis_, a kind of gruel, s.Chs. Shr.; _gr\u01d6\u0259l_, gruel,\ne.An.; _porid\u021d_, porridge, n.Cy., n.Midl.; _s\u016bp_, soup, w.Yks. Shr.\n\nThe sign of the genitive, both singular and plural, is generally\nomitted when one noun qualifies another in all the n.Cy. dialects, and\noccasionally in the n.Midlands, as: the Queen cousin; my father boots;\nthe lad father stick. A Lancashire magistrate is reported to have asked\na witness, \u2018Was it your brother dog?\u2019 This characteristic of n.Cy.\ndialects is found already in the M.E. period. The M.E. practice of\nplacing the genitival _s_ at the end of an attributive clause survives\nin most dialects of Sc. and Eng., as: I\u2019ve just seen Jim Dutton him as\nwent to America\u2019s wife; that\u2019s the woman what was left behind\u2019s child.\nThere is a general tendency in all dialects of Sc. Irel. and Eng. to\nexpress the genitive plural by means of an additional syllable suffixed\nto the nominative plural, as: the farmerses cows. This is especially\nthe case with the word _folk_, nom. pl. _f\u014dks_, gen. pl. _f\u014dks\u0259z_.\n\nThe gender of nouns grammatically speaking can only be ascertained by\nmeans of the pronouns referring to them. There is a general tendency in\nall dialects of Sc. Irel. and Eng. to personify inanimate objects. In\nSc. Irel. and the dialects of the northern counties the feminine pronoun\nis used, while in the Midlands, the e. s. and sw. counties, the use is\nvariable. In the sw. dialects inanimate objects are divided into two\nclasses. The first or personal class consists of formed, individual\nobjects, as: a tool, a tree; for these masculine or feminine pronouns\nare employed. The neuter pronoun is used when referring to nouns\ncontained in the second or impersonal class of unformed objects, as:\nwater, dust.\n\n\nADJECTIVES\n\n[Sidenote: _Accidence: Adjectives and Numerals_]\n\nIn the dialects the practice of forming adjectives denoting material\nfrom the substantive by means of the suffix _-en_ is carried out to a\nmuch greater extent than in the literary language, as: _tinnen pots_,\n_glassen bottles_, _hornen spoons_. This is especially the case in the\nsouthern and south-western dialects. The comparison of adjectives is\nformed in the dialects by adding the comparative suffix _-er_ and the\nsuperlative _-est_ to practically all adjectives, polysyllabic as well\nas monosyllabic. _More_ and _most_ are as a rule only used to supplement\nor intensify the regular comparison, as: _more beautifuller_, _most\nworst_. The following adjectives, irregular in the lit. language, are\ncompared regularly in some dialects: _badder_, _baddest_, n.Cy. Midl.;\n_farer_, _farest_, Sc. n.Cy. and the Midlands; _gooder_, _goodest_, Cum.\nm.Yks. Dev.; _iller_, w.Yks. e.An., _illest_, Fif. n.Cy.; _liker_, Sc.\nIrel. n.Cy. sw.Cy.; _littler_, _littlest_, in general use in n. and\nne.Sc. and Eng. The old comparative _near_, treated as a positive in the\nliterary language, retains its force in n.Yks. and nw.Der.; similarly,\n_far_, further, is retained in Yks. Lan. and the Midlands. _Mae_, the\nM.E. comparative of _many_, is used in Sc. Nhb. e.Yks. Stf. Double\ncomparatives occur in _betterer_, Cum. Yks. Dev. Cor.; _morer_, Shr.;\n_worser_, in general use in Sc. and Eng. A triple form, _worserer_, is\nheard in e.An. Double superlatives occur in _bestest_, sw.Cy.;\n_leastest_, Lan. e.An. sw.Cy.; _mostest_, Shr. Ken. Som. Cor.\n\n\nNUMERALS\n\nIn the dialects of the western and south-western counties it is usual\nto place the lower digit before the higher, as: _five and fifty_. In\nShr. this rule is invariable when speaking of sums of money under \u00a32,\nas: six and thirty shillings for a pig. In the dialects, especially of\nSc. Irel. n.Cy. Lei. Wor. Shr., the ordinals after _third_ take the\nsuffix _t_ instead of literary English _th_. The old ordinal _erst_,\nfirst in order, survives in Sc. and n.Yks.\n\n\nPRONOUNS\n\n[Sidenote: _Accidence: Pronouns_]\n\nIn all the dialects of Sc. and Eng. there is a tendency to introduce a\nredundant personal pronoun after a noun when emphasis is required; this\nis especially frequent after a proper name, as: Mr. Smith, he came to my\nhouse. In Sc. and the northern dialects a pronoun is often used to\nintroduce a statement, the specific subject being added later, as: it\nruns very well, does that horse. In all the dialects of Sc. and Eng. the\nobjective form of the personal pronoun is used for the nominative: (1)\nAfter the substantive verb, as: it was her that did it. (2) When\nstanding alone, as: Who did that? Her. (3) When the verb refers to\ndifferent persons, as: him and me did it; Jack and us went together. (4)\nWhen antecedent to a relative pronoun, and therefore separated from its\nverb by a subordinate sentence, as: him that did that ought to be\nhanged. The objective forms are often used for the nominative when the\npronouns are unemphatic, especially in the south-midland, eastern,\nsouthern, and south-western counties. Conversely in all the dialects of\nthese same counties the nominative of the personal pronoun is used as\nthe emphatic form of the objective case, as: her did it; her saw she. In\nIrel. the impersonal phrase _it is_ often occurs redundantly at the\nbeginning of a sentence, as: it\u2019s sorry you will be; it\u2019s sleepy I am.\n\nThe various dialect forms of the personal pronouns are of special\ninterest to the philologist in that they supply living examples to prove\nthe truth of the theory necessary to explain the original forms of the\npronouns in the separate branches of the Indo-Germanic family of\nlanguages. Most of the pronouns, especially the personal and\ndemonstrative, must have had accented and unaccented forms existing side\nby side in the parent language itself, and then one or other of the\nforms became generalized already in the prehistoric period of the\nindividual branches of the parent language. At a later period, but\nstill in prehistoric times, there arose new accented and unaccented\nforms side by side in the individual branches, as e.g. in prim. Germanic\n_ek_, _mek_ beside _ik_, _mik_. The separate Germanic languages\ngeneralized one or other of these forms before the beginning of the\noldest literary monuments, and then new accented beside unaccented forms\ncame into existence again. And similarly during the historic periods of\nthe different languages. Thus, e.g., the O.E. for _I_ is _ic_; this\nbecame in M.E. _ich_ accented form beside _i_ unaccented form; _ich_\nthen disappeared in standard M.E. (but it is still preserved in one of\nthe modern dialects of Somersetshire), and _i_ came to be used as the\naccented and unaccented form. At a later period it became _\u012b_ when\naccented and remained _i_ when unaccented. The former has become lit.\nEng. _I_, and the latter has disappeared from the lit. language, but it\nis still preserved in many northern Eng. dialects as _i_. In these\ndialects _i_ is regularly used in interrogative and subordinate\nsentences; the M.E. accented form _\u012b_ has become _ai_ and is only used\nin the dialects to express special emphasis, and from it a new\nunaccented form _a_ has been developed, which can only be used in making\ndirect assertions. Thus in one and the same dialect (Windhill, Yks.) we\narrive at three forms: _ai_, _a_, _i_, which are never mixed up\nsyntactically by genuine native dialect speakers. Something similar to\nwhat has happened and is still happening in the modern dialects must\nalso have taken place in the prehistoric and historic periods of all the\nIndo-Germanic languages.\n\nI. (_a_) The nominative of the first person singular. The stressed\nform is generally the same as the normal development of old _\u012b_\n(_v._ p. 132), but in some of the n.Midl. dialects _\u01ed_ is used. The\nunstressed forms are generally _a_ or _\u0259_, but in the n.Midl. dialects\n_o_ is the general form. The forms _it\u0283_ (_ich_), _\u0252t\u0283_ (_utch_),\n_\u0252t\u0283i_ (_utchy_), and the contracted form _t\u0283_ (_ch_), as: _t\u0283am_ = I\nam, were formerly used in Wxf. Dor. Som. and Dev. These forms are still\nused by old people in a small district of Som. close to Yeovil on the\nborder of Dorset, cp. \u2018Chill pick your teeth, zir,\u2019 _Lear_, IV. vi.\n250. (_b_) The objective case. The stressed form is generally _m\u012b_,\nrarely _mei_. The unstressed form is _m\u0259_.\n\nII. (_a_) The nominative of the second person singular. The stressed\nform generally contains the normal development of old _\u016b_ (p. 132), but\nin the n. and n.Midl. counties the _\u00f0_ has generally become _t_ in\ninterrogative and subordinate sentences. (_b_) The objective case. The\nstressed form is generally _\u00f0\u012b_, rarely _\u00f0ei_. The unstressed form is\n_\u00f0\u0259_. The pronoun of the second person singular is in use in almost all\nthe dialects of Eng. to express familiarity or contempt, and also in\ntimes of strong emotion; it cannot be used to a superior without\nconveying the idea of impertinence. In s.Sc. this pronoun has entirely\ndisappeared from the spoken language, and is only very occasionally\nheard in other parts of Sc. In Glo., owing probably to Quaker influence,\nit can be used without rudeness to a superior. In Nrf. it is only used\nin a few stereotyped salutations, as: _fare-thee-well_. In e.Dor. it is\nonly used to children or in recriminatory language.\n\nIII. (_a_) The nominative of the third person singular masc. The\nstressed form is generally _h)\u012b_, rarely _h)ei_. The unstressed form is\ngenerally _i_ or _\u0259_. In the n. and some n.Midl. dialects the _i_ is\nused in affirmative sentences and the _\u0259_ in interrogative and\nsubordinate sentences. The unstressed form _\u0259_, written _a_, occurs\noften in Shakespeare\u2019s Plays, cp. \u2018_Hostess._ Nay, that a did not.\n_Boy._ Yes, that a did,\u2019 _Hen. V._, II. iv. 32, 33. (_b_) The objective\ncase. The stressed form is _h)im_ and the unstressed form _im_, but in\nthe s.Midl. s. and sw.Cy. dialects _\u0259n_, generally written _en_, _un_\n(O.E. _hine_), is the regular unstressed form for _im_. It is also used\nof inanimate objects and in w.Som. of feminine animals, though never of\na woman.\n\nIV. (_a_) The nominative of the third person singular fem. The\nstressed form is generally _\u0283\u012b_, rarely _\u0283ei_, but in some of the\nn.Midl. dialects it is _\u0283\u016b_. The unstressed form is generally _\u0283\u0259_, but\n_\u0283u_ is also used in those dialects which have _\u0283\u016b_ as the stressed\nform. O.E. _h\u0113o_, she, survives as _\u016b_, _u_ generally written _hoo_,\nin parts of w.Yks. Lan. Chs. Flt. Dnb. Stf. Der. Not. Wor. (_b_) The\nobjective case is generally _h)\u0113(r, h)\u0259(r_.\n\nV. The nominative of the third person singular neut. The stressed form\nis generally _it_, but in Sc. and Nhb. _hit_. The unstressed form is\ngenerally _it_ or _\u0259t_. In Oxf. Dor. and Som. _it_ is frequently used\ninstead of the plural pronoun when animals or objects are referred to\ncollectively.\n\nVI. (_a_) The nominative of the first person plural. The stressed form\nis _w\u012b_, rarely _wei_. The unstressed forms are _wi_, _w\u0259_. In many\nn.Cy. and n.Midl. dialects _wi_ is used in affirmative sentences and\n_w\u0259_ in interrogative and subordinate sentences. (_b_) The objective\ncase. The stressed form is generally _\u0252s_, but in some of the n.Cy. and\nn.Midl. dialects it is _uz_, in Sc., parts of Irel. and Nhb. _h\u0252z_. The\nunstressed forms are _\u0259s_, _\u0259z_.\n\nVII. The second person plural. Few dialects discriminate between _you_\nand _ye_; on the whole the use of _ye_ for the nom. and obj. cases\nsingular and plural is the more general. In s.Chs. _you_ is always\nsingular in meaning though it takes the verb in the plural, as: you\nthinken; _ye_ is always plural. In Irel. and Nrf. the curious form\n_yous_, in Irel. also _yees_, is used when more than one person is\naddressed.\n\nVIII. (_a_) The nominative of the third person plural. The stressed\nform of the nominative is generally _\u00f0\u0113_ or _\u00f0e\u0259_, but in some midl.\nand s. dialects it is _\u00f0ai_ or _\u00f0ei_, and in Sh. and Or.I. n.Ken.\nSus. _d\u0113_, rarely _dei_. The unstressed form is generally _\u00f0e_ or\n_\u00f0\u0259_, rarely _\u00f0i_. In Lin. War. Shr. _\u0259_ (O.E. _h\u012be_) is used for the\nunstressed form of _they_. (_b_) The objective case. The stressed\nform is _\u00f0em_, rarely _\u00f0\u0113m_. In all the dialects of Irel. and Eng.\nthe unstressed form is _\u0259m_ (O.E. _heom_), generally written _em_, or\n_\u2019em_. In Sc. the unstressed form is _\u00f0em_ or _\u00f0\u0259m_.\n\nThe conjunctive possessive pronoun is in many dialects formed by\nadding the genitival _s_ to the personal pronouns both nominative and\nobjective, as: _we\u2019s_, Oxf. Ess.; _us\u2019s_, m.Yks. Glo. Oxf.; _you\u2019s,_\nSur.; _him\u2019s_, w.Sc. Hrf.; _she\u2019s_, Sur. Wil.; _them\u2019s_, Dev.; in e.An.\n_that\u2019s_ is used for _his_, _her_, _its_. The use of the personal\npronoun, nominative or objective, instead of the possessive is common\nin many Midl. and sw.Cy. dialects, especially when unemphatic or in\naddressing children, as: we held we breaths; let\u2019s be off tul us\ndinners, In certain n.Cy. and Midl. dialects the old uninflected _it_\nis still used instead of the modern _its_, cp. \u2018It lifted up it head,\u2019\n_Ham._ I. ii. 216. In Hmp. the still older use of _his_ for the neuter\npossessive is preserved, cp. \u2018To every seed his own body,\u2019 A.V. 1\n_Cor._ xv. 38. In ne. Lan. _her_ (O.E. _hiera_) is used for _their_.\nThroughout England the use of _our_, _your_ before a proper noun to\ndenote that the person spoken of belongs respectively to the family of\nthe speaker or the person spoken to is very common, as: our Sal; your\nTom. _w\u0259(r_ is in general dialect use in Sc. Irel. and Eng. for the\nunstressed form of _our_.\n\nIn the Midl. e. s. and sw. counties the disjunctive possessive\npronouns, except _mine_, _thine_, are generally formed from the\nconjunctive by adding _n_ or _\u0259n_, thus _hisn_, _hern_, _ourn_,\n_yourn_, _theirn_. A double form is used in _mine\u2019s_, Sc. n.Yks.\nThis double ending is added to the nom. in _weez\u2019n_, Glo.; _shizn_,\nWar. Glo. Brks. Hmp. Wil. The conjunctive form is used disjunctively\nin Lakel. Suf. Ess., as: that is my. In w.Yks. _that\u2019s_ is used as\nthe disjunctive possessive of the third person. Apart from these\ndeviations, the dialects generally express the disjunctive possessive\npronouns in the same manner as the lit. language.\n\nThe reflexive pronouns are generally formed by adding _self_, _sel_,\n_sen_, or _seln_ for the singular, and _selves_, _sels_, _sens_ (rarely\n_sen_) for the plural, to the conjunctive possessive pronouns, usually\nthe unstressed forms: _mi_, _\u00f0i_, _w\u0259(r_, _j\u0259(r_, &c. The endings _sen_,\n_seln_, _sens_ are chiefly confined to the n.Midl. dialects. The endings\n_self_, _selves_ are hardly ever used in Sc. Irel. n.Cy. and n.Midlands.\nFrequently the objective case of the simple personal pronoun is used\nwith a reflexive meaning, especially in Sc. n.Cy. and n.Midl., as: get\nthee dressed while I wash me. In Sc. _theirsel_ is used when the idea is\ncollective, _theirsels_ when it is segregate.\n\nThe demonstrative pronoun _this_ is expressed by: (1) _This_,\ngenerally used in the same manner as in lit. English. (2) _This here_,\nin general dialect use in Eng. (3) _That_, in Sc. and n.Irel. as: that\nis a fine day. (4) _Thease_, Hrf. Glo. and sw.Cy., used of objects\nhaving a definite shape; cp. Lat. _hic_; in w.Som. when the noun,\nwhatever its quantity or number, has already been mentioned in the\nsame sentence, it is referred to as _that_, _this_, not as _thick_,\n_thease_. (5) _Thease yerimy_, Glo. (6) _Thick here_, sw.Cy. In\ndisjunctive use are: (7) _Thisn_, _thisna_, n.Cy. Midl. Suf. Sur. (8)\n_Thease here_, w.Som. (9) _Thissum_, Glo. Hmp. sw.Cy.\n\n_That_ is expressed by: (1) _That_, generally used in the same manner\nas in lit. Eng. (2) _That there_, in general dialect use in Eng.; a\nsecond _there_ is often added, as is also a second _here_ to _this\nhere_. (3) _Thack_, _thacky_, Glo. sw.Cy. (4) _Thick there_, Glo. I.W.\nsw.Cy. (5) _Thon_, Sc. Irel. Nhb. Dur., used to identify an object\nremote from both speakers. (6) _Thonder_, Chs. Hrf. (7) _Yon_, Sc.\nIrel. n.Cy. n.Midl. Hrf. e.An. Dev., used especially of a person or\nthing a little way off, but within sight. (8) _Yond_, Edb. Yks. Lan.\nDev. (9) _Yonder_, Ayr. I.Ma. s.Chs. Nhp. w.Wor. Nrf. In disjunctive\nuse are: (10) _Thatn_, Lakel. Der. Not. Wor. Hrf. Sur. (11) _Thickumy_,\nSom. (12) _Thilk_, Glo. In Sc. n.Midl. Lon. Suf. Ken. _that_ is used in\nemphatic reiteration of an assertion, as: I suppose you are in a hurry.\nI am that. In all the dialects _that_ is used adverbially with the\nmeaning to such a degree, as: I was that bad. It is also used before a\nsubstantive with the meaning _such_, as: in that fear that I couldn\u2019t\nmove. In n.Hmp. _thick_ is always used for _this_, and _thuck_ for\n_that_; in Dor. _thick_ is only used for the personal class of formed\nindividual objects.\n\n_These_ is expressed by: (1) _These_, as in lit. Eng. (2) _Thes here_,\nw.Yks. Midl. Brks. Nrf. Ken. Som. n.Dev. (3) _These yerimy_, Glo. (4)\n_Theasum_, _theasamy_, Glo. Hmp. sw.Cy. (5) _This_, ne.Sc. n.Cy. parts\nof Yks. and Lan., and sw.Cy. It is used especially with plural nouns\ndenoting time, as: this three weeks. In disjunctive use are: (6) _These\n\u2019ans_ (= ones), _theseun_, Cum. Hrf. Brks. Wil. (7) _Thism_, Glo.\n\n_Those_ is seldom or never heard in genuine dialect speech. Its place\nis supplied by: (1) _Them_, in all the dialects of Sc. Irel. and Eng.\nIn Sc. it is especially used as the antecedent of the relative, as:\nthem at did it. (2) _Them there_, n.Midl. Midl. e.An. Dor. Som. (3)\n_Themmin_, Glo. Wil. (4) _Themmy_, sw.Cy. (5) _They_, Midl. Suf. s. and\nsw.Cy., used especially as the antecedent of the relative. (6) _They\nthere_, Ken. w.Som. Dev. (7) _That_, ne.Sc. (8) _These_, Sc. Cum. Yks.\n(9) _Thon_, Sc. Irel. Nhb. Dur. (10) _Yon_, Sc. n.Irel. n.Cy. n.Midl.\ne.An. Dev. (11) _Yond_, Edb. Yks. Lan. Dev. (12) _Them \u2019ans_, Cum. (13)\n_Yon \u2019ans_, Cum. _These_ and _those_ are both expressed by: (1) _Thae_,\nSc. Uls. n.Cy. (2) _Thick_, _thuck_, Wor. Dev. (3) _Thir_, Sc. (s. of\nthe Grampians) Uls. n.Cy. In disjunctive use: (4) _Thirs_, _thors_, Sc.\nNhb. (5) _Thir \u2019ans_, Cum.\n\nThere are no special dialect words for the interrogative pronoun, but\nthe following deviations from the lit. use are worth notice: _Whom_ is\nhardly ever used in any dialect; its place is taken by _who_. In Sc. and\nn. and ne.Yks. _whose_ is seldom used as an interrogative pronoun, a\nperiphrasis being used instead, as: _who is aught the bairn?_ whose is\nthe child? _who belongs this house?_ whose house is this? In Cum.\n_which_ is used of persons as well as of animals and things.\n\nThe relative pronoun is generally expressed by _as_, _at_, _that_ or\n_what_ for all genders and numbers, when the antecedent is expressed. In\nother cases _who_ is used for the masc. and fem. nom. and obj., and\n_what_ for the neuter. _Whom_ is never used in the dialects. _As_ is\nrarely used in n.Cy., but in the other parts of England it is in general\nuse. _At_ is in general use in Sc. Irel. n.Cy. and a small portion of\nthe n.Midl. counties. _What_ can be used when it refers to persons as\nwell as to inanimate objects in some of the n.Midl. counties, and in\nnearly all the counties south of the n.Midlands. In w.Som. it is only\nused when special emphasis is required. In s.Not. Hrf. Glo. and Nrf. the\nrelative _which_ is used redundantly in a conjunctive sense, as: ghosts,\nwhich I can\u2019t bear talking about. In Brks. _whosen_ is used for _whose_,\nbut as a rule the possessive relative cannot be expressed by a single\nword in the dialects; instead a periphrasis or parenthetical sentence\nis substituted. Especially frequent is the use of _as_ or _what_ coupled\nwith a possessive pronoun, as: that\u2019s the chap as his uncle was hanged.\nIn Sc. _at_ is similarly used, as: the man at his coat\u2019s torn.\n\n\nVERBS\n\n[Sidenote: _Accidence: Verbs_]\n\nPreterites. In the conjugation of verbs in the dialects many old forms\nhave been preserved which have been lost in the literary language. Very\noften where, in the lit. language, the old plural form of the preterite\nor the past participle has been carried through the whole preterite, in\nthe dialects the old singular form has been levelled out. Or again, an\nold strong verb has in lit. Eng. become weak, whilst in the dialects the\nstrong forms have remained. On the whole, it is the northern dialects\nwhich have preserved these old strong preterite forms. It may be said to\nbe characteristic of the southern dialects to form new weak preterites\nto originally strong verbs. Examples of verbs which have preserved old\nstrong preterites are: bind, _ban(d_ (O.E. _band_), Sc. n.Cy. Shr.;\nbreak, _brak_ (O.E. _br\u00e6c_), Sc. n.Cy.; climb, _klam_, _klom_ (O.E.\n_clamb_, _clomb_), Sc. n.Cy. n.Midl. Hrf. Hmp. Dor.; find, _fan(d_ (O.E.\n_fand_), Sc. Cum. Yks.; grind, _gran(d_ (O.E. _grand_), Sc. Dur. Yks.\nShr.; knead, _nad_, _n\u0113d_ (M.E. _knad_, late plur. _kn\u0101den_), Yks. Shr.;\nspeak, _spak_, _sp\u0113k_ (M.E. _spak_, late plur. _sp\u0101ken_), Sc. Dwn. n.Cy.\nEss. Dev.; swing, _swa\u014b_ (O.E. _swang_), Sc. Lakel. Yks.; tread, _trad_,\n_tr\u0113d_ (M.E. _trad_, late plur. _tr\u0101den_), Sc. Yks.; win, _wan_ (O.E.\n_wan(n_), Sc. Cum. Yks.\n\nExamples of old strong verbs which have acquired new weak preterites\nare: bear, _beared_, Bch. Abd. Yks. s.Chs. s. and sw.Cy.; begin,\n_beginned_, w.Som. Dev.; burst, _bursted_, Sc. Midl. sw.Cy.; come,\n_comed_, Yks. Lan. n.Midl. e.An. sw.Cy.; draw, _drawed_, Midl. Hmp.\nsw.Cy.; grow, _growed_, n.Midl. I.W. Dor. w.Som.; know, _knowed_, n.Ir.\nn.Cy. Midl. Ess. Ken. Sur. I.W. sw.Cy.; see, _seed_, Sc. n.Cy. Yks. Lan.\ns.Chs. Midl. e.An. s. and sw.Cy.; steal, _stealed_, Sc. n.Lin. Brks.\ne.An. Dev.; throw, _throwed_, _thrawed_, Nhb. w.Yks. Midl. s. and\nsw.Cy.; weave, _weaved_, n. and e.Yks. w.Som.; &c., &c. These verbs have\nlikewise a weak past participle, as: _beared_, _corned_, _drawed_, &c.\n\nA few old weak verbs have become strong in lit. Eng. but retain their\noriginal weak forms in certain dialects, such are: dig, _digged_,\nw.Som., cp. \u2018He made a pit and digged it,\u2019 A.V. _Ps._ vii. 15, \u2018Wells\ndigged,\u2019 _Neh._ ix. 25; strive, _strived_ (M.E. _strivede_ beside\n_str\u014df_), Peb. ne.Nrf. w.Som. Cor.; wear, _weared_ (M.E. _wered(e_), Sc.\nn.Yks. Nhp. Wor. sw.Cy. Old forms of a weak preterite survive in reach,\n_raught_ (M.E. _raughte_), Sc. Midl. s. and sw.Cy., cp. pp. \u2018The hand of\ndeath hath raught him,\u2019 _Ant. & Cleop._ IV. ix. 30; work, _wrought_\n(M.E. _wroughte_), Sc. Irel. n.Cy. Lan. Der. Stf. This is the ordinary\npreterite form used in the Authorized Version of the Bible, but in\nmodern lit. Eng. only the past participle remains as an adjective, as in\n_wrought iron_. On the model of this kind of preterite we have in lit.\nEng. catch, _caught_, but the regular form _catched_ (M.E. _cacched_\nbeside _caughte_) is common in nearly all the dialects of Sc. Irel. and\nEngland.\n\nMany verbs which in the literary language have lost the final _n_ of\nthe strong past participle, retain it in certain dialects. These old\npast participles are found in Sc. n.Cy. and n.Midl. dialects, but very\nrarely further south than Shropshire. Examples are: bake, _baken_, Sc.;\nbereave, _beriven_, m.Yks.; bind, _bunden_, _binden_, Yks. Nhb.; climb,\n_clomben_, Nhb. Shr.; come, _cumen_, _comen_, Sc. n.Cy. Chs. Shr.;\ncreep, _cropen_, _crupen_, Sc. n.Cy. Chs. Shr.; fight, _foughten_,\nSc. n.Cy. Lei. Shr.; fling, _flungen_, e.Yks. s.Chs. Der.; grind,\n_grounden_, Nhb. n. and e.Yks. Shr.; help, _holpen_, s.Chs. Rut. Shr.;\nknead, _nedn_, m.Yks., _noden_, n.Cy. w.Yks. Nhp.; shoot, _shotten_,\n_shutten_, Sc. n.Irel. Lakel. n.Cy. Lei. Wor. Shr. Ken.; sit, _sitten_,\nSc. n.Cy. Chs. nw.Der. Shr.; slit, _slitten_, Sc. Nhb. Yks. nw.Lin.;\nspring, _sprungen_, e.Yks. s.Chs.; wash, _washen_, Sc., _weshen_,\nw.Yks.; writhe, _writhen_, Sc. m.Yks. s.Chs.\n\nIn some dialects the verbal endings differ considerably from those of\nthe standard language, and the use of these endings is governed by exact\ngrammatical rules. To begin with the present tense: In Sc. Irel. n.Cy.\nand most of the n.Midl. dialects, all persons, singular and plural, take\n_s_, _z_, or _\u0259z_ when not immediately preceded or followed by their\nproper pronoun; that is when the subject is a noun, an interrogative or\nrelative pronoun, or when the verb and subject are separated by a\nclause. When the verb is immediately preceded or followed by its proper\npronoun, the first person sing. and the whole of the plural generally\nhave no special endings in the above dialects, except occasionally in\nparts of Yks. Lan. and Lin. It follows from this that grammatically\n\u2018Scots wha hae\u2019 is incorrect; strictly the line should run: \u2018Scots at\nhaes wi\u2019 Wallace bled.\u2019 In the other parts of England the first person\nsing. has no special ending except in some of the southern and\nsouth-western dialects, which have the ending _s_, _z_, or _\u0259z_. Most of\nthe s.Midl. e. s. and sw. dialects have _s_, _z_, or _\u0259z_ for all\npersons of the plural. The plural generally ends in _n_, _\u0259n_ in se. em.\nand s.Lan. Chs. Flt. Dnb. Stf., nearly all Der., Shr., and also often in\nNhp. War. Wor. Hrf.; this is especially the case with _have_. In Som.\nand Dev. the plural often ends in _\u00f0_ among the older generation of\ndialect speakers. In e. and s.Hrt. Ken. Sur. Hmp. I.W. w. and s.Som.\nDev. Cor. _\u2019m_, _am_, is generally used for _are_ after the pronouns\n_we_, _ye_, _they_, as: _w\u0259m_, we are. In Nhb. Dur. Cum. Wm. Yks. Lan.\nn.Lin. _is_ is often used for _am_. The periphrastic form _I do love_,\n&c., for _I love_, &c., is in general use in the sw. dialects.\n\nThe preterite plural sometimes ends in _n_, _\u0259n_ in some n.Midl.\ndialects, but beyond this the preterite endings generally agree with\nthose of the literary language.\n\nIn the dialects of England the present participle ends in _in_ except\nin parts of n.Nhb. and n.Cum. where the ending is _\u0259n_. This _\u0259n_\nprobably goes back to the Northern M.E. ending _and_. In the dialects\nof s.Sc. and also in a few other Sc. dialects the present participle\nends in _\u0259n_, from older _and_, and the verbal noun ends in _in_ from\nolder _ing_. In the imperfect and perfect continuous tenses, as: _I\nam striking_, _I have been striking_, the present participle takes the\nprefix _\u0259_ (_\u0252_) in the Midland, e.Cy. and sw.Cy. dialects, as: _I am\na-goin_. This is an interesting point when we realize that it proves\nthe origin of our present participle ending _ing_, which cannot be\ndeveloped from the O.E. _ende_. The form with the prefix _\u0259_ represents\nthe verbal noun (O.E. _-ung_, _-ing_) preceded by the preposition _on_.\nThe preposition dwindled through lack of stress into a mere prefix,\nand was ultimately lost in lit. Eng. These dialects thus preserve the\nintermediate stage.\n\nIn the s.Midl. and sw.Cy. dialects the past participle has the prefix\n_\u0259_ (_\u0252_) from the O.E. prefix _ge-_.\n\nThe infinitive generally has no special ending just as in the literary\nlanguage. But in the sw.Cy. dialects, especially in Dor. Som. Dev.,\nintransitive verbs generally have the ending _i_, written _y_, from the\nO.E. ending _-ian_ of weak verbs such as _lufian_, to love; _l\u014dcian_, to\nlook.\n\nThe future is formed the same way as in lit. Eng. except that in Sc.\nIrel. and Wal. _will_ is used for the first person singular and plural.\n\nThe perfect is generally formed the same way as in lit. Eng., but in\nthose dialects of England which have preserved the old strong past\nparticiples, the auxiliary _have_ is generally omitted in affirmative\nsentences when the subject is a personal pronoun immediately followed by\nthe verb, as: we done it, I seen him, they been and taken it. In the\nMidl. e. and s. dialects, this construction is sometimes used to express\nthe preterite.\n\nThe negative in O.E. was expressed by the particle _ne_ prefixed to\nthe verb, and to all the other words in the sentence that admitted of\ncontracted negative forms. If no such words were present, then _n\u0101_\nor _naht_ was used to strengthen the _ne_. This usage was kept up in\nM.E., as: _he never hadde no\u00feing_, but beside it _nat_, _not_, the weak\nform of O.E. _n\u0101wiht_, began to take the place of the _ne_. In Modern\nEnglish the _ne_ disappeared entirely, and the influence of Latin\ngrammar led to the adoption of the rule \u2018two negatives contradict each\nother and make an affirmative\u2019. In the dialects the old pleonastic\nnegatives remain, as: He nivver said nowt neeaways ti neean on em;\nNeeabody\u2019s neea bisniss ti thraw nowt inti neeabody\u2019s gardin; I deean\u2019t\nwant nobbut yan.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XI\n\nPOPULAR PHRASES AND SAYINGS\n\n\nTo most people the details contained in the preceding chapter will\nseem but the dry bones of dialect speech; they would prefer the bones\nto be covered with sinews and flesh. Dialect speech as the embodiment\nof living, many-sided, human nature is perhaps nowhere so closely\nseen as in a collection of the figurative terms and phrases applied\nto people and things. Here we approach the unlimited humour displayed\nin the dialects. It is of all kinds--the ironical, the sage, the\nfrankly jolly, the merely ridiculous. It takes every shape; we meet\nit in similes, metaphors, proverbs, and in various other forms which\nelude description. A characteristic form of humour, often combined\nwith sarcasm, appears in those comparisons wherein the moods, habits,\nand actions of men are likened to those of birds, beasts, fishes,\nand even insects in real or imaginary situations. The following is a\nmiscellaneous selection of similes: as awkward as a cat in pattens; as\nbig as bull-beef, said of a conceited person; as black as the devil\u2019s\nnutting-bag; as blue as a whetstone; as bug [self-satisfied, vain] as\na pump with two spouts; as busy as bees in a basin, said when any one\nis busy about trifles; as busy as a cat in a tripe-shop; as clean as\nprint; as cold as snow in harvest, said of any one who looks hard and\nunfeeling; as dark as a boot; as dark as a black cow\u2019s skin, said of a\nvery dark night; as dateless as a rubbin\u2019-stoop [as stupid, insensible\nas a rubbing-post]; as dazed as a duck against thunder; as dazed as a\ngoose with a nail in its head; as deaf as a beetle [a wooden mallet];\nas deaf as a haddock; as drunk as mice, cp. \u2018We faren as he that\ndronke is as a mous,\u2019 Chaucer, _Knightes Tale_, l. 403, \u2018Thou comest\nhoom as dronken as a mous,\u2019 _Wife of Bath\u2019s Prol._, l. 246; as dunch\n[deaf] as a door-post; as dutch [fine, affected in language] as a dog\nin a doublet; as dutch as a mastiff, said of one who assumes an air\nof innocence after having done some mischief; as fat as a modiwarp [a\nmole]; as fast as a midge in a treacle-pot; as fast as a thief in a\nmill [i.e. an old windmill, built on posts, and with only one way of\ningress and egress]; as fine as a new-scraped carrot, used to describe\nany one who has dressed himself up smartly for any occasion; as flat\nas a flaun [a pancake, O.Fr. _flaon_]; as fond [foolish] as a besom;\nas fond as a poke [bag] of chaff with the bottom end out; as foul as a\ncurn-boggart [as ugly as a scarecrow]; as friendly as a bramble-bush;\nas genny [fretful] as a bear with a sore lug [ear]; as greedy as a\nfox in a hen-roost, referring to the fact that a fox kills many more\nhens than he can eat; as good-natured as a pump; as green as a leek,\ncp. \u2018His eyes were green as leeks,\u2019 _Mids. N. D._ V. i. 342; as happy\nas pigs in muck; as happy as little pigs in new straw; as handy as a\ngimlet, said of any one who is quick and useful; as hard as a ground\ntoad, said of any one who looks healthy and strong; as hardened as\nPharaoh; as heart-sound as a cabbage, said of any one possessing a good\nconstitution; as hungry as a June crow; as in and out as a dog\u2019s hinder\nleg, said of any one not to be depended on; as keen [strong] as Samson;\nas lilty as tykes in a tramp-house [as light-hearted as vagrants in a\ntramps\u2019 lodging-house]; as lonely as a milestone; as lonely as a steg\n[gander] in sitting-time, said of a bachelor living by himself; as\nmild as a moon-beam, said of a particularly mild and placid person;\nas narrow as a drink of water, said of a person excessively thin; as\nnimble as a cat on a hot backstone; as nimble as a cow in a cage, said\nof a person who is clumsy and awkward; as plain as a pack-staff. This\nrefers to the pedlar\u2019s staff which supports the pack on his back, and\nalso serves to measure his wares, and which by constant wear on his\njourneyings becomes exceedingly smooth. The better known version--as\nplain as a pike-staff--is thought to be a corruption of pack-staff.\nAs peart as a gladdy [as lively as a yellow-hammer]; as peart as a\nrobin; as pleased as a dog with two tails; as poor as a rames [as thin\nas a skeleton]; as right as pie; as sackless as a goose; as safe as a\nchurch tied to a hedge, said when superfluous precaution has been used;\nas sharp as a weasel; as simple as a ha\u2019porth of cheese; as simple as\na ha\u2019porth of soap in a washing-mug, i.e. as ineffectual as so small\na quantity of soap would be in so large a vessel of water, mug here\ndenoting a wash-tub; as slender in the middle as a cow in the waist,\nsaid of a very stout person; as slick as a oont [as smooth as a mole];\nas slim as a barber\u2019s pole; as soft-hearted as a rezzil [weasel], said\nof a person who is absolutely cruel; as sound as a trout; as sour as\na grig, referring to _grig_, the wild bullace, not to the proverbial\n_merry grig_; as straight as a loach, an allusion to the swift direct\nmotion of the loach; as sure as God\u2019s in Gloucestershire, an allusion\nto the large number of churches and religious houses the county used\nto possess; as throng [busy] as a cobbler\u2019s Monday, said in ridicule,\nbecause a cobbler is supposed to rest on Monday to work off the effects\nof a drinking bout at the week-end; as tough as a withy; as wakken as\na witterick [as lively as a weasel]; as warm as a bee; as weak as a\nmidsummer gosling; as weak as a wet dish-clout; as welcome as flowers\nin May, said to a friend entering the house; as welcome as snow in\nharvest, or as welcome as water in one\u2019s shoon, said of an undesired\nguest; as whisht as a winnard, an allusion to the redwings which reach\nCornwall in the late autumn, and are seen there in the winter in a very\nthin and miserably weak condition; as windy as a wisket [basket], said\nof a forgetful person; as yellow as a gollan [a corn-marigold].\n\n[Sidenote: _Similes and Metaphors_]\n\nTo look like a bit of chewed twine is to look worn out; the tears were\nrunning down his cheeks like beetles up a hill is said in ridicule of a\nchild who is crying for nothing; to grin like a Cheshire cat chewing\ngravel, eating cheese, or brass wire. Charles Lamb once explained why a\nCheshire cat is given to grinning: \u2018I made a pun the other day, and\npalmed it upon Holcroft, who grinned like a Cheshire cat. (Why do cats\ngrin in Cheshire?--Because it was once a county palatine, and the cats\ncannot help laughing whenever they think of it, though I see no great\njoke in it.)\u2019 _Letters_, vol. i, p. 245. Like a chip in a mess of milk,\nor like a chip in porridge, said of a person or thing of no importance,\nuseless; to stare like a choked throstle, or like a throttled earwig;\nlike a cow handling a musket, said of a person doing something in a\nclumsy manner; to look like death on a mopstick is to look miserable; to\nwork like Diggory is to work hard. The name Diggory was once a common\nChristian name. It occurs as the name of a farm labourer in Goldsmith\u2019s\n_She Stoops to Conquer_. To go like a dinner of broth is to go\nsuccessfully without hitch or friction; short and sweet like a donkey\u2019s\ngallop; to go buzzing away like a dumbley-dory [a bumble-bee] in a\nsnoxun [a foxglove], or like a dumble-dore in a warming-pan, is said of\na humdrum preacher; she\u2019s like an old ewe dressed lamb-fashion is said\nof an old woman gaily dressed; she\u2019s in and out of folkses housen like a\nfiddler\u2019s elbow is said of a gossiping woman; to be like a fly in a\nglue-pot is to be in a state of nervous excitement; to have a memory\nlike a frog-tail is to have a bad memory, or none at all; to be like a\nhen on a hot girdle is to be restless and impatient; off, like a jug\nhandle; laid out like lamb and sallet is said of a person gaily dressed;\nit\u2019s bare work and poor pay, like licking honey off a thorn, said of an\nemployment yielding only a small and uncertain profit; lost like a lop\nin a barn, said of a person living in too big a house; to be like a pig\nin a well is to be without visible means of support; to be like a pig,\nto do no good alive, is said of a covetous and selfish man; it\u2019s much\ncry for little wool, like shearing a pig; to mend like sour ale in\nsummer is to grow worse and worse; to look like a sow with side-pockets\nis said of a person absurdly dressed; anything very useless is said to\nbe of no more use than a side-pocket is to a toad, or an umbrella to a\nduck; like a sucking duck, said of a foolish person; it\u2019s slow work,\nlike sucking buttermilk out of a sieve; to follow any one like a Tantony\npig is to stick as close to him as St. Anthony\u2019s favourite is supposed\nto have done to the saint, cp. \u2018Lord! she made me follow her last week\nthrough all the shops like a Tantiny pig,\u2019 Swift, _Polite Conv._ i; to\nsit like a toad on a shovel, said of any one who has a very uncertain\nseat on horseback, and also of a person in a very uncertain condition of\naffairs; like a toad out of a tree--thump; to live or lead a life like a\ntoad under a harrow is to suffer from ill-treatment or ill-usage; he\u2019s\nlike a Tom-noup [the great tit] on a round of beef, said of a\nswaggering, pretentious, little man; drinking to drown sorrow is like\ntrying to sleck a fire with gunpowder; it runs in the blood like wooden\nlegs.\n\n[Sidenote: _Conversational Allusions to Fictitious Persons or\n              Things_]\n\nBeside these are the longer similes in the style of those\nconversational allusions for which Sam Weller is famous. For example:\nall asiden like Martha Roden\u2019s twopenny dish, said of something aslant,\nout of the perpendicular; like the old cow\u2019s tail, all behind, said when\nany one is behind-hand with work; all to one side like the handle of a\njug; same\u2019s the crow said by the heap of toads, all of a sort; same\u2019s\nthe old Tucker found his halfpenny, all to a heap; all together like\nBrown\u2019s cows; like Morley\u2019s ducks, born without a notion; it\u2019s as broad\nas it\u2019s long, like Paddy\u2019s blanket, means that it matters not which of\ntwo ways a thing is done; clean gone, like the boy\u2019s eye, and that went\ninto his head; like Malachi\u2019s child, choke-full of sense, said of any\none who boasts of himself or of his children; to do things by degrees as\nthe cat ate the pestle [shank or foreleg of an animal, especially of a\npig]; as dirty as Thump-o\u2019-Dolly, that died of being washed; dressed to\ndeath like Sally Hatch; forty save one like Obitch\u2019s colt, applied to\npersons of a certain age who affect youthful manners; he\u2019s like a\npig-tail, going all day and nothing done at night; he\u2019s like the\nparson\u2019s fool, he likes everything that\u2019s good; like Jan Trezise\u2019s\ngeese, never happy unless they be where they baint; hitty-missy, as the\nblind man shot the crow; nought\u2019s impossible, as the old woman said when\nthey told her the calf had swallowed the grindlestone; knoppy road, as\nthe man said when he stumbled over a cow; as knowing as Kate Mullet, and\nshe was hanged for a fool; you\u2019re late, as Paddy Loughran said to the\nghost; as lazy as Ludlam\u2019s dog, that leaned up against the wall to bark;\nlong in the legs like Nanny Panter\u2019s hens; like lucky Jan Toy, who lost\na shilling and found a twopenny loaf, applied to any one who is\nrejoicing over a small gain purchased at the expense of a greater loss;\nthere\u2019s more clout than pie, as the schoolboy said when he unwrapped his\ndinner; he won\u2019t do it if he hasn\u2019t a mind to, as the man said by his\njackass; \u2019tis neat but not gaudy, as they said of the devil when they\npainted his body pea-green, and tied up his tail with red ribbons, said\nin ridicule of showy dress; don\u2019t be in a hurry, it\u2019s one at a time\nhere, as the old woman said at the wirligog [turn-stile]; as queer as\nDick\u2019s hatband, that went nine times round and would not tie at last;\nlike the quest [wood-pigeon] always saying \u2018to do\u2019, but everybody knows\nit makes the worst nest in the wood; thee beest a queer quest, as the\nboy said to the owl; quietness is best, as the fox said when he bit the\ncock\u2019s head off; as throng as Throp\u2019s wife when she hanged herself with\nthe dish-clout, applied to a woman who is for ever busying herself about\ndomestic affairs, but whose house and surroundings are nevertheless\nalways untidy; you thought wrong, like Hob\u2019s hog, which, it is said,\nwhen the butcher went into the sty to kill it, fancied its breakfast was\ncoming. To catch a person napping, as Moss caught his mare, is a saying\nwhich occurs as far back as 1641 in Taylor\u2019s works. To sit like\nMumchancer who was hanged for saying nothing contains an allusion to an\nold game of chance played with cards or dice, at which silence was\nessential.\n\n[Sidenote: _Figurative and Metaphorical Terms and Phrases_]\n\nAmongst the figurative and metaphorical terms and phrases are:\nankle-biters, children, e.g. I had too many little ankle-biters to save\nmuch; abbey-lubber, an idle person, a loafer. This is a very old word\noccurring in Cotgrave, and also in Dr. Johnson\u2019s _Dictionary_, in the\nlatter it is defined as: \u2018a slothful loiterer in a religious house,\nunder pretence of retirement and austerity.\u2019 The blacksmith\u2019s daughter,\na padlock; a bread-and-cheese friend, a true friend, as distinguished\nfrom a cupboard-lover; bread, or potatoes and point, a meal of bread, or\npotatoes, only; calf-lick, a tuft of hair growing on the human forehead,\nwhich will not part or lie flat; calf\u2019s tongue, a person who is,\naccording to occasion, mild-spoken or harsh-spoken, like the tongue of a\ncalf, smooth on one side and rough on the other; cat-lick, a hasty,\nindifferent washing; cat-malison, a recess or cupboard in the ceiling,\nin which meat, &c., is hung, called the cat\u2019s curse because from its\nposition it was secure from the cat; a churn-milk [buttermilk] study,\nreverie, a brown study; clash-bag, a tale-bearer, a scandal-monger;\ncobbler\u2019s pork, bread; cold turkey pie, bread and cheese; countryman\u2019s\ntreacle, garlic; a duck\u2019s frost, a slight frost, or none at all, also a\ndrizzling rain; fly-by-sky, a giddy, flighty person; hearthstone talk,\nboastful talk, promises made at night and not intended to be kept in the\nmorning; hopping-Giles, a cripple, so named from St. Giles, the especial\npatron of cripples; a lawyer, a long thorny stem of bramble or briar; a\nlick and a promise, a slight, ineffectual washing, any work done in a\nperfunctory manner; a messenger, a sunbeam, a small detached cloud\nbetokening rain; Methody cream, or milk from the brown cow, rum in tea;\nmilestone-bread, shouting-cake, or Here be I, where be you? bread, cake,\nor pudding in which the currants or raisins are far apart; Miss Nancy,\nan effeminate man, especially one conspicuous for outward adornment, but\ndeficient in common sense; muck-spout, a person who uses filthy\nlanguage; news-poke, a gossip; nip-curn [-currant], nip-fig, nip-raisin,\na person so stingy that he would nip a raisin in two; the one-armed\nlandlord, a pump; pea-swad [-pod] days, young days; the poor man\u2019s\npiano, a wringing-machine; poverty-engine, a tea-kettle; Prince-town\nCollege, Dartmoor prison; a pump without a handle, any person or thing\nthat is quite unfit to discharge the office which he or it has to fill;\nPurdy\u2019s lantern, the moon; sike-fat [rill-fat], water used instead of\nfat in making cakes, puddings, &c.; a snail\u2019s gallop, a very slow pace;\nsnow-blossom, a snowflake; a stepmother\u2019s blessing, a loose piece of\nskin at the base of the finger-nail; a Sunday saint and Monday sinner, a\npseudo-religious person; tea-kettle broth, weak tea, or broth made of\nbread, hot water, and an onion or two; tongue-bang, to scold, abuse;\nwater-bewitched, weak tea or ale; a winter Friday, a cold,\nwretched-looking person; a wooden cloak, dress or sark, a coffin.\n\nTo tell a long story without much point is to beat the Devil round the\ngooseberry-bush; to be lazy is to have Lawrence on one\u2019s back; Lawrence\nbids high wages is said of a person who is rendered almost incapable of\nwork by the heat of the weather, or who yields to it too willingly; the\nboy\u2019s gone by with the cows, and the snap\u2019s down, are sayings addressed\nto one who has lost a certain opportunity, and is now too late; a person\nwho has fallen into trouble by his own foolishness or misconduct says:\nAh\u2019ve browt me pigs tiv a bad mahkit; to make a bad bargain is to sell a\nhen on a rainy day, cp. \u2018Never mind our son, cried my wife; depend upon\nit he knows what he is about. I\u2019ll warrant we\u2019ll never see him sell his\nhen of a rainy day. I have seen him buy such bargains as would amaze\none,\u2019 _Vicar of Wakefield_, chap. xii; a person who has been deceived\nonce, and will not be so again, says: Ah\u2019ve been ta Jerry berrin\u2019\n[Jerry\u2019s funeral]; it\u2019s all along of Colly Weston, said when anything\ngoes wrong, bears reference to a very old phrase found as early as 1587.\nCollywest, or collyweston, is an adverb or adjective meaning askew, not\nstraight or level. Of a project or undertaking that has failed it is\nsaid: That cake\u2019s all duff [dough]. A Warwickshire folk-rhyme runs:\n\n    O, dear, O!\n    My cake\u2019s all dough,\n    And how to make it better\n    I do not know.\n\nShakespeare uses the phrase twice in the _Taming of the Shrew_, I. i.\n110; V. i. 145; and it occurs in _Don Quixote_, translated by Jervas:\n\u2018The duchess\u2019s cake was dough, as the saying is, till she had read her\nletter.\u2019 To be all mops and brooms is to be bewildered; to be all skin\nand grief is to be half-starved, of a melancholy disposition; anything\npeculiarly agreeable is said to be honey and nuts; a rich fool is said\nto carry his brains in his breeches-pocket; to make a great show on\ninsufficient means is to carry a tight swagger [ship\u2019s flag] on a rotten\nmast; a person singing or whistling badly is told that he would charm\nthe heart of a wheelbarrow; goa tell thy mother to che\u00e4n ugly up is a\nremark often made to a pouting, ill-tempered child; choose how the cat\njumps is a phrase equivalent to by hook or by crook; to comb the head\nwith a three-legged stool is to beat, knock, cp. \u2018... doubt not her care\nshould be To comb your noddle with a three-legg\u2019d stool,\u2019 _Tam. of Shr._\nI. i. 63; of the return of a penniless scapegrace it is said he\u2019s coming\nhome with Penny Liggan, or Peter Lacken, probably the original phrase\nwas penny lacking; a person with a sharp temper is asked: Did ye come\npast the smithy?; a disagreeable person is told that he looks sour\nenough to come [curdle] a cheese; of a very blunt knife it is said that\nit would cut butter if it was hot; to attempt the impossible is to cut\nsmoke with a leather hatchet, to eat stir-pudding with an awl, to sup\nsowens [oatmeal and water] with an elshin [a shoemaker\u2019s awl], to gape\nagainst a red-hot oven, to get blood from a turnip, to stop an oven with\nbutter, to throw straws at the wind; the dule\u2019s had o\u2019 th\u2019porritch an\u2019\nthe Lord\u2019s nobbot getten th\u2019pon for t\u2019scrape is said of a death-bed\nrepentance; a person belonging to a different religious denomination to\nthat of the speaker is said to dig with the wrong foot; of a draught in\na room it is said that it would deet [winnow] potatoes; of a weak person\nor animal it is said he can\u2019t dint into a pound of butter; to eat\nrue-pie signifies to repent, regret; to eat bread dipped in fried water\nis to live poorly; when a horse is left standing outside a door,\nespecially of a public-house, it is said to be left to eat sign-post\nhay, or sneck [latch] hay; sparrow-pie, or sparrow-pudding is a dish\nsupposed to make a person preternaturally sharp, e.g. Her\u2019s purty flip\nthis morning, idden her? I rakkon her\u2019th abin ayting sparrer-pie; Bless\nher heart! aw could ate her wi\u2019 a butter-cake! is a rustic compliment;\nhighly complimentary also is the saying: Hoo\u2019s an e\u2019e i\u2019 her yed at \u2019ud\nfot a duck off th\u2019 wayter; a long and dull discourse is said to be\nenough to deafen a spider; something irritating and provoking is said to\nbe enough to urge the blood of Peter Cockerel; Fare thee well, Oula, is\nan expression used when parting from something one is not likely to see\nagain; to a person smiling or laughing for no apparent reason it is\nsaid: What bist thee a-loffin\u2019 at? I sh\u2019d think thee \u2019adst fund a\ntiddy-obbin\u2019s nist un\u2019 wus a-loffin\u2019 at the young uns; I never flacker\nmy wings ower t\u2019edge o\u2019 my awn nest means that I never go beyond the\nbounds of my own circumstances; to fly up with Jackson\u2019s hens is to be\nbankrupt; to gather or sow gape-seed is to stare about, to stare out of\na window; to gather strings, or to pick up one\u2019s crumbs, is to regain\none\u2019s health after an illness, e.g. Our Liz bin ter\u2019ble bad, her was\na\u2019most come to a nottomy [skeleton], but her\u2019s pickin\u2019 up her crooms\nagain now like, thank th\u2019Almighty; to get one\u2019s kale through the reek\n[smoke] signifies to get a good scolding; a very tall and lazy person is\ntold to go and get measured for a pikel [pitchfork]; of a very dull,\nunintelligent person it is said: He\u2019s getten a head and so has a mell\n[mallet]; of a scolding woman it is said: Hoo\u2019s getten a tung sharp\nenough for t\u2019shave a urchant [hedgehog]; Eh, what a tail our cat\u2019s got!\nis said at the sight of unwonted finery and conceit; when the head of\nthe family has introduced various members of the family into the same\nemploy it is said that the fingers have got pretty close to the thumb;\nof a mean man it is said: He\u2019s a rare good customer wheer they\u2019re givin\u2019\nthings away for nowt; an undecided person, wanting in manly\nstraightforwardness is said to go betwix the oak and the rind; a person\nliving beyond his means is said to graze beyond his tether; a man who\ninvites friends during his wife\u2019s absence is said to hang out the\nbesom; He\u2019s hing\u2019d his fiddle on the door-sneck is said of a man in a\nbad temper; a person completely happy and independent may say: I wo\u2019dn\u2019t\nthenk ye to hev th\u2019 Queen for my aunt; of a haughty woman it is said\nthat she will hardly know the Queen\u2019s cousin; of a coward it is said\nthat he has no more heart than a dumbledory; of a child who repeats\nsentences or opinions picked up from his father it is said: He\u2019s heard\nthe old cock crow; to heat or warm up old broth signifies to renew an\nold courtship; of scant fare received in another person\u2019s house it is\nsaid that the shelf was pretty high; to keep on good terms with any one\nis to keep the wheel in the nick; a person using large means for very\nsmall ends is said to be killing clocks [beetles] with clubs; a person\nsupposed to be thoroughly acquainted with any particular matter is said\nto know both the hare and the hare-gate; a state bordering on starvation\nis described as lean lickin\u2019 o\u2019 thibles [sticks for stirring porridge];\nto marry for money and then to be discontented with one\u2019s lot is to like\nthe boose [stall for a cow] but not the ring-stake; a man who marries\nfor money, and whose wife turns out to be a scold, is said to wed\nt\u2019midden for t\u2019muck and be puizened wi\u2019 t\u2019stink; to live or die an old\nmaid is to live the life or die the death of Jenkin\u2019s hen[2]; not to be\ndeterred from anything by blustering talk is to live too near the wood\nto be frightened by an owl; to a tardy messenger it is said: Theaw\u2019rt\nth\u2019reet mon for t\u2019send for sorrow--theaw\u2019rt so lung uppo th\u2019road; to be\nin a state of bewilderment or confusion is to look two ways for Easter,\nor to look seven ways for Sunday; of a person who squints it is said\nthat he was born in the middle of the week, and looked both ways for\nSundays; a man not to be depended upon is said to be loose in the haft,\nnot to be trusted further than you could throw a pig by the soaped tail;\nIf a mak an erran\u2019 tae yer face, it \u2019ill no be tae kiss ye is an\nexpression of anger; a very cold wind is said to make thin linings, i.e.\nto make one\u2019s clothes feel thin, My word! but it\u2019s a thin wind this\nmorning, it\u2019ll go through you before it\u2019ll go round you; to discourse\npointlessly or beyond the mark is to milk over the can; there\u2019s a mule\nin the garden signifies that something unpleasant is going on; of a\nperson who has said or done something foolish it is said that he is\nplagued with the simples; to do anything in the slowest possible way, to\nwork ineffectually, is to plough with dogs; to sew hurriedly and badly\nis to put in a stitch for a friend; to attempt to improve a thing which\nis already perfect is to put butter on bacon; to take away one\u2019s\nappetite is to put one by one\u2019s porridge, e.g. What, thoo\u2019ll nivver come\nnar neea mair? Let me tell thi that\u2019ll put nin on us by wer poddish;\nthey don\u2019t put up their horses together means that they are not friendly\ntogether; when something has interfered to prevent an arrangement being\ncarried out it is said that the pigs ran through it; an old woman\u2019s\nrock-staff [distaff] is a contemptuous expression for a silly\nsuperstitious fancy; of an impudent person it is said that he has rubbed\nhis face with a brass candlestick; of a person given to petty and\n\u2018penny-wise\u2019 economies it is said that he saves at the spigot and lets\nit run out at the bung-hole; to consent readily is to say sniff if\nanother says snaff; to earn one\u2019s bread laboriously before one eats it\nis to scrat before one pecks; a person complaining of want of\nsociability or kindness amongst neighbours will say: \u2019Er didn\u2019t say as\nmuch as Set down, dog, or: There isn\u2019t one as\u2019ll so much as look in and\nsay Dog, how beest?; when milk is burnt, and adheres to the sides of the\nsaucepan, it is said that the bishop has set his foot in it. This is a\nvery old saying, cp. Tusser, _Husb._, \u2018Blesse Cisley (good mistris) that\nBishop doth ban For burning the milk of her cheese to the pan\u2019; and\nTindale, _Obedience of a Christen Man_ (1528), \u2018Yf the podech be burned\nto, or the meate over rosted, we saye the bysshope hath put his fote in\nthe potte, or the bysshope hath playd the coke, because the bysshopes\nburn who they lust and whosoever displeaseth them.\u2019 Of a very thin\nperson it is said that he shames his pasture; of hollow friends it is\nsaid: They\u2019ll shak ye by t\u2019hand an wish your airm off by t\u2019elbow; of a\ntedious caller it is said: She\u2019ll sit a hen-sit; of a stingy, niggardly\nperson it is said that he would not part wi\u2019 t\u2019reek off his keal, and\nthat he would skin a toad for the hide and tallow; of an avaricious\nperson it is said that he would steal the cross off an ass, i.e. the\ndark marks across its shoulders; to idle about the streets gossiping is\nto spin street-webs; a description of poor fare is stare and stand\nback--three jumps at the pantry door and a drink of cold water; of a\nbow-legged person it is said that he couldn\u2019t stop a pig in a snicket;\nto have a sad life is to sup sorrow by spoonfuls; to pay attention to\none\u2019s own faults is to sweep up one\u2019s own doorstep; of a very loquacious\nperson it is said that he would talk a butt of bees to death, or talk a\ndog\u2019s hind leg off; of a tedious person it is said that he would weary a\ngrowing tree; to tell improbable stories is to tell dildrams and\nBuckingham Jenkins; to attract by good feeding is to tether by the\nteeth; to a thriftless and extravagant wife it is said: Don\u2019t throw your\nproperty out of the door with a spade while your husband is bringing it\nin through the window with a spoon; of a bachelor it is said that he\ntrails a light harrow, his hat covers his family; of a person who has\nknown sorrow or misfortune it is said that the black ox has trodden on\nhis foot. This saying occurs in our early literature, cp. Tusser,\n_Husb._, \u2018Why then do folke this prouerbe put, The blacke oxe neare trod\non thy fut, If that way were to thriue?\u2019; and Lyly, _Sapho and Phao_\n(1584), \u2018She was a pretie wench, when Juno was a young wife. Now\ncrowesfoote is on her eye, and the black oxe hath trod on her foot.\u2019 To\nquit a business at a critical point is to unyoke in the sherd [gap in\nthe hedge]; to like to have one\u2019s own way is to want the water to run in\none\u2019s own ditch; a person who boasts of doing difficult things is asked\nif he can whistle and chew meal; to go whistling jigs to a milestone is\na phrase used of any fruitless attempt or impossible undertaking; I wish\nI had our cat by t\u2019tail is said by people a long way from home and\nfireside; to work overtime without receiving extra pay is to work for\nthe Queen; to do work for which the pay has been already drawn is to\nwork on a dead horse.\n\n[2] The Carlyles, however, used this phrase in a different sense. Mrs.\nCarlyle in a letter to her husband (September 13, 1844) wrote: \u2018The\nevening of the Bullers\u2019 departure Jenkin\u2019s Hen came, pale as a candle,\nwith a red circle round each eye which was very touching;--he had\nevidently been crying himself quite sick and sore.\u2019 Carlyle\u2019s note on\nthis passage is as follows: \u2018Fleming. To \u201cdie the death of Jenkin\u2019s hen\u201d\nexpressed in Annandale the maximum of pusillanimity.\u2019 V. _The Second\nPost_, E. V. Lucas, p. 151.\n\n[Sidenote: _Proverbs and Proverbial Sayings_]\n\nProverbs and proverbial sayings are very numerous in all the dialects,\ngenerally introduced in plain epigrammatical style, but sometimes\npreluded by: It\u2019s an owd sayin\u2019, an\u2019 it\u2019s a true un.... The following\nspecimens may be taken as a fair sample of the whole. It will be seen\nthat some are merely dialect readings of well-known lit. Eng. proverbs,\ne.g. It\u2019s th\u2019yarly bird as gollaps th\u2019wurm; others convey the same\nmeaning, but under a different figure to that with which we are\nfamiliar, e.g. To give apples to orchards, beside the ordinary lit. Eng.\nTo carry coals to Newcastle.\n\nIt\u2019s bad clicking butter out of a dog\u2019s throat; a bealing coo soon\nforgets it cauf; the beard won\u2019t pay for the shaving; a blate [timid]\ncat makes a proud mouse; co [call] thi own cawves t\u2019gether an\u2019 le\u2019 mine\ncome whoam o\u2019 thersels; kaa [call] me an\u2019 aa\u2019ll kaa thee = one good turn\ndeserves another; a child and a chicken should always be pickin\u2019;\nchristen your own child first = charity begins at home; a deaf man hears\nhae [have, take this]; wan\u2019s as dip i\u2019 the mood as t\u2019oother i\u2019 the moire\n= it\u2019s six of one and half a dozen of the other; dumb folks heirs no\nland, said when anything is to be obtained by speaking; it\u2019s easy\nholding down the latch when nobody pulls the string, usually applied to\na woman who boasts about remaining single; way mut all ate a peck o\u2019 dut\nafore way doy, a saying commonly supplemented with: but non on us wants\nit all at woonst; empty barrels make the most noise; what do you expect\nfrom a pig but a grunt?; those who can\u2019t fadge must louster, said of\npeople who increase their physical labour by want of foresight, cp. his\nhead doesn\u2019t save his heels; them at feals [hide] can find; a feeal\u2019s\nbolt is seean shotten, cp. \u2018Sottes bolt is son i-scoten,\u2019 _Prov.\nAlfred_, c. 1275; there\u2019s never a gant [yawn] but there\u2019s a want of\nmate, money, or sleep, cp. \u2018Them that gant Something want, Sleep, meat,\nor making o\u2019,\u2019 Galt, _Sir Andrew Wylie_, 1822; if ye\u2019ve got one [i.e.\nchild] you can run, If ye\u2019ve got two you may goo, But if ye\u2019ve got three\nYou must bide where you be; ther\u2019s no gettin\u2019 white meeol eawt of a\ncoal-seck = you can\u2019t make a silk purse out of a sow\u2019s ear; geea ne\nhetter kail nor ye can sup yorsel; half an egg\u2019s better an a team\u2019d\nshell = half a loaf\u2019s better than no bread; hantle o\u2019 whistlin\u2019 an\u2019\nlittle red lan\u2019 [ploughed land] = much cry and little wool; have a\nlittle, give a little, let neighbour lick the mundle [stick for stirring\nporridge] = charity begins at home; the hailer is zo bad as tha stailer,\ncp. Germ. Der Hehler ist so gut wie der Stehler; every yerrin\u2019 should\nhang by it own gills; a hundred words won\u2019t fill a bushel; a hungry eye\nsees far; hunger\u2019s famous kitchen [relish eaten with bread]; an idle\nmon\u2019s yed\u2019s the divvle\u2019s smithy; if stands stiff in a poor man\u2019s pocket;\nIf ifs and an\u2019s Were pots an\u2019 pans There\u2019d be naya trade for tinklers;\nIf ifs an\u2019 buts Were apples an\u2019 nuts, Wouldn\u2019t I fill my guts; a bad\nshearer [reaper] nivvor gat a good hyuk = bad workmen abuse their tools;\nnever invite a friend to a roast and then beat him with the spit; nivver\njudge a blade by t\u2019heft; the kail-pot\u2019s callin\u2019 the yetlin [pan] smutty;\nit isn\u2019t oft at t\u2019kittlin\u2019 carries t\u2019owd cat a maase; to learn one\u2019s\ngranny to lap ashes; they might lick thooms to the elbows = one is as\nbad as the other; a little word is a bonny word = least said, soonest\nmended; it is not good to live where you can hear your lord\u2019s cock crow;\nye may lock afore a haand-tief, but no afore a tongue-tief; A man may\nspend And God will send If his wife be good to ought, But man may spare\nand still be bare If his wife be good to nought; those that have marbles\nmay play, but those that have none must look on; to measure a peck out\nof one\u2019s own bushel is to judge of another\u2019s disposition or experience\nby one\u2019s own; meeat is mickle but mense [goodness, courtesy] is mair;\niv\u2019ry megullat [owl] thinks her own bubs best; the mellerest apple hes a\ncrawk [core] i\u2019side; o\u2019er muckle water drowned the miller; a nimble\nninepence is better than a slow shilling; peekle in yer ain pwoke neuk =\nmind your own business; Pity without relief Is like mustard without\nbeef; pull the bobbin with joy, bud knock wi\u2019 sorrow; a raffle [foolish]\ntung an\u2019 a race-hoss gan t\u2019faster t\u2019leeter wight tha hug [carry]; a\nrolling stone gathers no moss, but a tethered sheep winna get fat; save\nthy wind to keel thy porridge; never scaud your lips in ither folk\u2019s\nkail; seein\u2019s believin\u2019, but feelin\u2019s God\u2019s truth; when I see shells I\nguess eggs = there\u2019s no smoke without a fire; it\u2019s nouther seeds nor\nmeal = neither one thing nor another; a shift and a shilling is worth\nthirteen pence, i.e. an expedient or contrivance will increase the value\nof anything, and make it go further; as well sit teum [empty] as run\nteum = better make the best of a bad bargain; skeer [rake out] your own\nfire; he maun be seun up that cheats the tod [fox]; never speak ill of\nthe bridge that carries you; don\u2019t stretch thi arms farther nor thi\nsleeves reyks [reach]; ye mauna think to win through the world on a\nfeather-bed; Them as \u2019oon thrive Mun rise at five. Them as have thriven\nMay lie till seven; tiggers should not be tarrowers = beggars should not\nbe choosers; if a man tinkles, he must expect to be grimed; to tirr\n[unroof] the kirk to theek the quire = to rob Peter to pay Paul; Twoast\nyer bread An\u2019 rasher yer vlitch, An\u2019 as long as e lives Thee \u2019ooll never\nbe rich; the toll is heavier than the grist = the game is not worth the\ncandle. Formerly the miller always took his payment in a toll of the\ncorn, a custom alluded to in a metaphorical epitaph found in Surrey on\nthe tombstone of a miller:\n\n    O cruel Death, what hast thou done,\n    To take from us our mother\u2019s darling Son?\n    Thou hast taken toll, ground and drest his grist,\n    The bran lieth here, the flour is gone to Christ.\n\nA toom purse makes a blate merchant; other tow to teaze, other oats to\nthrash = other fish to fry; dunna waste a fresh haft on an ould blade =\ndon\u2019t throw good money after bad; there\u2019s aye some water where the stirk\n[heifer] drowns; better wed over the mixen than over the moor; the well\nis not missed until it is dry; better a wet mitten than a cold hand;\nt\u2019wheem sew yets t\u2019draff [the still sow eats the pig-wash]; A whistling\nwoman and a crowing hen Will fear the old lad out of his den; he that\nwill to Cupar maun to Cupar = a wilful man must have his way.\n\nAn interesting elucidation of the common proverb: Don\u2019t spoil your ship\nfor a ha\u2019porth of tar, is given by comparison with the dialect version\nof it, which remains faithful to the original. The saying Dunnot loaz\nt\u2019yow [ewe] for a hawporth o\u2019 tar, i.e. do not be niggardly or\nover-economical in farming, is recorded as far back as 1636 in the form\n\u2018hee that will loose a sheepe (or a hogge) for a pennyworth of tarre\ncannot deserve the name of a good husband\u2019. It thus becomes clear that\nour word \u2018ship\u2019 is here a dialect form of sheep, and that the ha\u2019porth\nof tar does not signify the remedy for a leaking vessel, for which it\nwould be wholly inadequate, but the means for marking the owner\u2019s\ninitial on a sheep\u2019s back to prevent its being unrecognized when found\nstraying. The introduction of spoil for lose is no doubt due to the\nmisunderstanding of \u2018ship\u2019.\n\n[Sidenote: _Phrases referring to Time_]\n\nWe noted at the beginning of Chapter II some examples of the\nmultifarious expressions which can be found in the dialects for one\nsimple idea, but a few more may be added here: a moment of time,\ninstantly, is: in a couple of cat-squints, in half a dozen cracks of a\ncobbler\u2019s thumb, in two claps of a lamb\u2019s tail, in the fillin\u2019 o\u2019 a\npipe, in a pig\u2019s whisper, in the shaking of an ass\u2019s lug, in the snifter\n[sniff, snort] of a rabbit, in the snirt of a cat, in the twinkle of a\nbed-post, and--commonest of all--in a twink, cp. \u2018That in a twink she\nwon me to her love,\u2019 _Tam. of Shr._ II. i. 312; never is: o\u2019 St.\nPawsle\u2019s [Apostle\u2019s], at Tib\u2019s Eve, on Whistlecock Monday, in the reign\nof Queen Dick, midsummer-come-never, to-morrow-come-never, next\nneverstide, when apples grow on orange-trees, when there are two moons\nin the lift [sky], when there are two Fridays in the week, when two\nSundays come together, the first Sunday in the middle of the week, some\nSunday in next week, a week of three Sundays; a long, indefinite period\nof time is: from seven year end to seven year end, for years long years\nand donkey\u2019s ears; a place far off and solitary is: aback o\u2019 beyond, or\naback o\u2019 beyont where they kessen [christen] cawvs and knee-band lops\n[fleas], behind God speed, up atop o\u2019 down yonder miles-endy-ways; to go\nto Jericho is to go to Buckhummer, or to gill-kickerty. A person who is\nhalf-witted, or slightly insane is said to have a leaf out, to have\nnought but what was put in with a spoon, to be a bit of a toby-trot, to\nbe sort o\u2019 comical in his head, to be gone past hisself, to be\nhalf-rocked, nobut ninepence to the shilling, not exactly plumb, not up\nto Monday, one of God\u2019s oddlin\u2019s, put in wi\u2019 the bread and a\u2019tookt out\nwi\u2019 the cakes like.\n\n[Sidenote: _Phrases referring to Death_]\n\nThe phrases referring to death are of many kinds, some cold and\ncommonplace, some grim, and a few almost poetical. Amongst them are: he\nhas put his spoon in the wall; he is gone to the mole country; he is\nsinging Whillalooya to the day nettles; he\u2019s gone deeod sure enough, an\u2019\niv he\u2019s ta\u2019en his brass wi\u2019 him it\u2019ll be melted bi neaw; thou\u2019l niver be\nsatisfied til thoo gets thi moothful a mould is a phrase used to a\ngrumbling, discontented person; he\u2019s nowt good for till he\u2019s happed up\n[buried, lit. covered], said of a miserly churl; they\u2019ve a-putt poar ol\u2019\nBill t\u00fc beyd wi\u2019 a showl [shovel] t\u00fcday; of a delicate person not yet\nold, it is said he\u2019ll never carry a grey toppin\u2019 whoam; of a person too\nill to be likely to recover it is said: I fear he\u2019s boun\u2019 up\npadjan-tree; the sexton has shaked his shool at him; of an old man in\nfailing health it is said he\u2019s going down the brewe [brow, hill]; it\u2019s\nwelly [wellnigh] six o\u2019clock with him, six o\u2019clock being the hour at\nwhich labourers, when it is light, leave off work; he\u2019s gettin\u2019 into th\u2019\nlinderins. The linderins or lindrins are ropes put round a weaver\u2019s beam\nwhen the woof is nearly finished, and the term is applied thus\nfiguratively to the approaching end of an old man\u2019s life. And then, when\nthe end has come, like the hand-loom weaver whose work is finished: he\u2019s\nta\u2019en his reed and gears in at last. There is something picturesque in\nthe use of the phrase to go home applied to trees and flowers. My\ngardener always speaks of a dead plant or a withered blossom as having\ngone home.\n\n[Sidenote: _Evasive Replies to the Inquisitive_]\n\nThere are certain curious expressions used in the dialects as replies\nto children and inquisitive questioners when the person addressed\ndoes not mean to give the desired information. For example, answers\nto the question What\u2019s that? are: rare overs for meddlers; lay-overs\nfor meddlers, and crutches for lame ducks; shimshams for meddlers; a\ntrina-manoose; a whim-wham for a mustard mill, or for a treacle-mill,\na whim-wham to wind the sun up. What are you making? Ans. A snoffle\n[snout] for a duck. What are you doing? Ans. Muckin\u2019 ducks wi\u2019 an\nelsin. What have you got in the cart there? Ans. Only a load of\npost-holes. What did that cost? Ans. Money and fair words. Where did\nthat come from? Ans. I got it from the Binsey treacle-mine (Oxf.).\nWhat\u2019s the latest news? Ans. The Dutch have taken Holland. Where is he\ngone? Ans. To Botn\u2019y Baay and the\u00e4re he maay staay. How old are you?\nAns. As owd as me tongue an owder than me teeth. How old was So-and-So\n(lately deceased)? Ans. Oh! I reckon he lived same\u2019s Tantarabobus--all\nthe days of his life. Why did you do that? Ans. For fun and fancy,\nbecause Bob kissed Nancy. What will you bring us from the Fair? Ans.\nIf you\u2019ll be good children, I\u2019ll bring you all a silver new-nothing to\nhang on your arm.\n\n[Sidenote: _Salutations_]\n\nDialect forms of greeting are usually short and comprehensive. It is\nnot uncommon for a rustic to pass the time of day with a friend met on\nthe road by the use of a single monosyllable. All forms of salutation,\nfrom the single monosyllable to the interchange of a few remarks,\nmay be termed passing the time o\u2019day. This expression is current in\npractically all the dialects of England, e.g. A niver stopped to speak\nto \u2019im, on\u2019y just passed the time o\u2019 day, cp. \u2018But meet him now, and,\nbe it in the morn, When every one will give the time of day, He knits\nhis brow,\u2019 _2 Hen. VI_, III. i. 14, \u2018Good time of day unto my gracious\nlord!\u2019 _Rich. III_, I. i. 122. Noo! is a common greeting in the North\nwhen two friends meet. There are various forms of inquiry after the\nwell-being of the person addressed, e.g. Well, an\u2019 how be \u2019ee to-day?\nPurty bobbish, thank-ee. Are ye middlin\u2019 weel? Hoo\u2019s a\u2019 wi\u2019 ye? On\na grey day among the Yorkshire moors every native one meets salutes\none with the single word Dull! If the weather be fine he will say in\npassing, Grand day! If wet, his greeting will be: Soft weather! or, A\nsoft day! A story is told of two Irishmen who thus greeted each other\nwhen they met at a Fair: Bad luck to you, Pat, says one, How are you?\nGood luck to you! Mick, answered the other, and may neither of them\ncome true.\n\nA common Devonshire salutation at meal-times is Gude stummick to ee\nwan an\u2019 all, a phrase which from its like significance might claim\ncountry-cousinship with the after-dinner greeting \u2018Gesegnete Mahlzeit\u2019\nof North Germany. A Cornish grace before meat runs: Lord mek us able To\neat what\u2019s upon table, followed by: The Lord be praised Our stummicks be\naised. Outspoken phrases of this kind have their charm, when they\nproceed from simple, honest hearts. After a long morning walk on a\nYorkshire moor, plates of home-made cake, and tumblers of new milk,\nspread in a farm-house kitchen with the homely invitation, Reik tul, an\u2019\nmak yersens at \u2019oam, can be a meal which will linger in the memory long\nafterwards as a feast of fat things, and wines on the lees well refined.\nReach to, in its various forms, is the ordinary phrase in the northern\ndialects, e.g. Noo reeach teea an\u2019 help yersels, ther\u2019s nowt ya need be\nneyce [shy] aboot, an\u2019 ya needn\u2019t mak spare ov owt; Noo, deean\u2019t be owre\nneyce, reach tul an\u2019 git agait; Noo you munnot be shy and owernice, but\nmak a lang airm to what you like best. The guest may reply: Ah sal lad,\nah sal bide noa assing [await no asking]; I\u2019s ower meeat-yabble\n[hungry] to be blate [bashful]. Not this time, thank you, is a polite\nway of declining to take any more food at the hospitable board, and when\nthe guest leaves the house he says: Well, a mun love ye, and leave ye.\n\n[Sidenote: _Phrases denoting Contempt_]\n\nTurning from the language of courtesy and good-feeling to that of\ncontempt and derision, we shall find in the dialects a rich variety of\nexpressions of a still more outspoken and forceful character. For\nexample: Me gwain to have thick [that] hangdog-looking fuller!--why, I\nwidn be azeed in a ten-acre field way un; Au wodn\u2019t be seen at a\nhen-race wi\u2019 thee; Thee jump up an\u2019 knep [pick] a daisy; He don\u2019t care\nfor kith, kin, hog, dog, nor devil; Her temper\u2019ll ne\u2019er be meawlt\n[mouldy] wi\u2019 keepin\u2019; Thou gert lang-catching buzzard; Old cinderwig;\nYou\u2019re a nice cup o\u2019 tea, you are, said to a person who thinks himself a\nfine fellow; Thou gaumless donnat [stupid good-for-nothing]; \u2019Er\u2019s a\nvigger ov nort, \u2019er is; A jolter-yeded gawpsheet; Old gimlet-eye; Thoo\ngert idle honk, thoo; Shoo is a pullet, shoo goes abaht like a guytrash;\nA ragabrash slitherin\u2019 owd raskald; Wor hes thoo been aw this time, thoo\nsledderkin, thoo?; Tomnoddy, big heed an\u2019 little body, a street-boy\u2019s\ngibe at a person of dwarfish stature.\n\n[Sidenote: _Phrases applied to Localities_]\n\nCorresponding to the figurative and proverbial similes and sayings\nof a general nature are the more strictly local ones, recording some\nfeature of the locality, some current tradition, or some real or\nimaginary characteristic of the inhabitants of a special town or\ncounty, for example: all on one side like Bridgnorth Election, said\nof anything which is oblique or out of the perpendicular. The saying\nis supposed to refer to the fact that members of the Tory Whitmore\nfamilies of Apley, near Bridgnorth, have, with rare exceptions,\nrepresented the borough in Parliament from 1663 onwards for over two\nhundred years. All on one side like Marton Chapel (Chs.); all on one\nside like Parkgate, said of anything lopsided. Parkgate is a fishing\nvillage on the Cheshire side of the river Dee, consisting of one long\nstreet with houses on one side only, the sea wall being on the other\nside. All play and no play, like Boscastle Market, which begins at\ntwelve o\u2019clock and ends at noon (Cor.); always too late like Mobberly\nclock (Chs.); to end in a whew, like Cawthorne feast, said of anything\nwhich ends badly or never comes to pass (w.Yks.); like a Whillymer\ncheese, it wants an axe and a saw to cut it (n.Cy.); it\u2019s gone over\nBorough Hill after Jackson\u2019s pig, said when anything is lost. Borough\nHill is an extensive Roman encampment near Daventry. \u2019Tis as long in\ncoming as Cotswold barley, applied to things which are slow but sure.\nThis proverb, alluding to the slow growth and ultimate excellence of\nCotswold corn, is amongst those collected by Ray in 1678. Ship-shape\nand Bristol fashion signifies respectability, steadiness, stolidity;\nhe has been sworn in at Highgate, is said of a man who is very sharp\nor clever (n.Der.). The custom of swearing on the horns at Highgate\nnear London is described in Hone\u2019s _Everyday Book_, 1827. As big as\nRussell\u2019s wagon (Cor.). This was a huge wagon for the conveyance of\ngoods and passengers, drawn by six, eight, or even ten horses. It took\nnearly a fortnight to go from Cornwall to London. Passengers sometimes\ntook their own bedding with them, and slept in the wagon, and they made\ntheir wills before starting. Like Nicholas Kemp he\u2019s got occasion for\nall (Cor.) is a saying referring to a traditional voter in a Cornish\nborough who, in order that it might not be said that any one had given\nhim a bribe, was told to help himself from a table covered with gold\nin the election committee-room. Taking off his hat, he swept the whole\nmass into it, saying: \u2018I\u2019ve occasion for all.\u2019 They\u2019ll rax [stretch]\nan\u2019 run up like Tommy Yarrow\u2019s breeches (Nhb.) is applied to anything\nvery elastic. Tommy Yarrow was a celebrated maker of leather breeches,\nwhich he asserted to be capable of stretching or shrinking to meet\nthe wearer\u2019s requirements. To _creg_ means to be short-tempered or\nill-natured, like the inhabitants of Cragg Hill, a geographical portion\nof Horsforth in West Yorkshire.\n\n[Sidenote: _Local Nicknames_]\n\nNicknames for the inhabitants of certain towns are: Bury muffs; Dawley\noaves, a name derived from the traditional Dawley Barrow-maker who was\nthe original oaf. He is said to have built a wheelbarrow in an outhouse\nwith so small a door, that he could not get the barrow out when it was\nfinished. Morley gawbies; Leeds loiners; Radcliffe boiler-lifters; Wigan\nHearty-Christers, an allusion to a form of oath peculiar to the Wigan\ncolliers, a corruption of Heart-of-Christ; Yarmouth bloaters, cp. \u2018But\nPeggotty said, with greater emphasis than usual, that we must take\nthings as we found them, and that, for her part, she was proud to call\nherself a Yarmouth Bloater,\u2019 Dickens, _David Copperfield_. A Dicky-Sam\nis a Liverpool man; and a Jug is a man of Brighton.\n\nSometimes these sayings are in rude rhyme, e.g. Proud Preston, poor\npeople, Eight bells in a crackt steeple; Birstal for ringers,\nHeckmondwike for singers, Dewsbury for pedlars, Cleckheaton for\nsheddlers [swindlers]; Oh, Boston, Boston, thou hast nought to boast on\nBut a grand sluice and a high steeple, And a coast as souls are lost on;\nCheshire bred, Strong i\u2019 th\u2019 arm But weak i\u2019 th\u2019 head; Derbyshire born,\nDerbyshire bred, Strong i\u2019 th\u2019 arm, and thick i\u2019 th\u2019 head; Essex miles,\nSuffolk stiles, Norfolk wiles, many men beguiles, cp. \u2018For Norfolke\nwiles, so full of giles, Haue caught my toe, by wiuing so,\u2019 Tusser.\nGobbinshire is an old name for a portion of West Cheshire, gobbin\nsignifying a clownish person, a country fellow.\n\nParallel to the nicknames belonging to certain towns are the county\nones, such as: an Essex calf; a Hampshire hog [sheep]; a Norfolk\ndumpling; a Yorkshire bite, or tyke; wild people, i.e. the inhabitants\nof the Weald of Sussex. Shropshire is reputed to be full of trout and\nTories. Anciently the Salopian was proverbial for sharp shins, as\nrecorded by Leland and others:\n\n    I am of Shropshire, my shinnes be sharpe:\n    Ley wode to the fyre and dresse me my harpe.\n\nLeland\u2019s _Itinerary_, 1710-12. This old proverb remains in a\ncrystallized form in the term sharpshins, e.g. Now then, sharpshins,\ntaking me up as usual! said in rebuke to some sharp speech, or captious\ncriticism.\n\n[Sidenote: _Phrases denoting Local Characteristics_]\n\nTo direct a person to go to a place not to be named to ears polite is\nto tell him: to go to Melverley (Shr.), a saying which has arisen from\nthe fact that this village is continually flooded by the irruptions\nof the Severn, and is therefore a place where ills and misfortunes\nbefall the inhabitant; to go to Halifax (Yks. Lin. Oxf.); to Hexham\n(Nhb. Yks.); to Hull. From Hull, Hell, and Halifax, Good Lord deliver\nus (Yks. n.Lin.), is a saying based on the local history of the two\ntowns named. At Hull all vagrants found begging in the streets were\nwhipped and put in the stocks, and at Halifax persons taken in the act\nof stealing cloth were instantly, and without any process, beheaded.\nJedburgh and Lydford (Dev.) bear a like fame for summary infliction of\npunishment. Jedburgh-justice and Jedburgh-law are proverbial phrases\nsignifying trial after execution. \u2018First hang and draw, Then hear the\ncause by Lidford law,\u2019 is amongst Ray\u2019s _Proverbs_, 1678. To send a\nman to Dingley couch, or Dinglety-cootch (Irel.), means to send him\nto Coventry. Dingle-i-Coush was an old name for Dingle in Co. Kerry,\na place very remote and inaccessible; to be sent to Ketton (n.Lin.)\nsignifies to be sent to the prison at Kirton-in-Lindsey; to be sent to\nWakefield is a parallel expression current in Yorkshire. You could tell\nthat up in Devonshire is a Cornish expression equivalent to: Give a cat\na canary, or: You fry your feet (e.Suf.), said when any one makes an\nincredible statement.\n\n[Sidenote: _Stories illustrating Local Stupidity_]\n\nDeeds such as those for which the Wise Men of Gotham are famous are\nlocalized in various parts of the country. In Wiltshire people sometimes\nspeak of their western neighbours as Somerset hedge-cuckoos, in taunting\nallusion to their making a hedge round the cuckoo to keep it from flying\naway. The natives of Madeley-on-Severn are said to have tried to secure\nthe cuckoo by standing round it in a ring with clasped hands; whilst\nthey of Borrowdale sought to compass the same end by building a wall.\nMoonraker, a term for a very foolish person (w.Yks. Hrf. Oxf. Hmp.\nWil.), has its origin in similar tradition. The Wiltshire moonrakers are\nbest known to fame, but it is also told of the natives of Slaithwake\nthat they raked the canal to secure the moon which was reflected\ntherein, and which they mistook for a cheese. It has been stated with\nregard to the existence of the term in Hampshire, that the original\nmoonrakers were smugglers who, when detected on their journeyings, were\nwont to pitch their booty into one of the numerous ponds in the\ndistrict, to be raked out again some night when fear of pursuit was\npast. As fond as the folks of Token (Cum.) is a saying based on the\ntradition that the first coach that passed through Token was followed by\na crowd of the inhabitants who were anxious to see the big wheel catch\nthe little one; as fond as th\u2019 men of Belton, at hing\u2019d a she\u00e4p for\nstealin\u2019 a man, is a north Lincolnshire expression. A Coggeshall job\nmeans in Essex a stupid piece of work, a foolish action. Many stories\nare told in illustration of the stupidity of the people of Coggeshall,\nfor instance, it is related that when they had built their church they\nfound they had forgotten to make any windows. So they got some hampers,\nand set them open in the sun to catch the light, then shut them up\ntight, wheeled them into the church in barrows, and there opened them to\nlet the light out. Another legend tells that the people thought that\ntheir church was in the wrong place. In order to move it, they went to\none end to push it, laying their coats down on the ground, outside the\nopposite end, on the spot to which the wall was to be removed. When they\njudged that they had moved the building far enough, they went round to\nfind their coats, but none were to be found. They at once concluded that\nthey had pushed the wall over them, and went to look for them inside the\nchurch. Further, they are said to have placed hurdles in the stream to\nturn the river, and to have chained up the wheelbarrow when the dog bit\nit.\n\n[Sidenote: _Historical Allusions_]\n\nAmong the most interesting of the dialect sayings are those which\ncontain historical allusions. Here we find the memory of old, unhappy,\nfar-off things, and battles long ago, handed down from generation to\ngeneration, enshrined in some quaint word or phrase. Or perchance\nit is the name of some great or notorious man that has now passed\ninto a rustic proverb, some notable event in political or Church\nhistory which, long after it has ceased to live in men\u2019s minds, still\nlingers in their speech. When Durham boys are quarrelling or playing\nat soldiers, one may taunt another by crying: A coward! a coward! o\u2019\nBarney Castle Dare na come out to fight a battle. In all probability\nthis refers to the holding of Barnard Castle by Sir George Bowes during\nthe Rising of the North in 1569. The couplet: Bellasis! Bellasis! daft\nwas thy knowle, When thoo swapt Bellasis for Henknoll (e.Yks.), refers\nto a foolish exchange of estates in the fifteenth century. An Easter\nMonday custom peculiar to Ashton-under-Lyne, called Riding the Black\nLad, consisted in carrying through the streets an effigy which was\nafterwards publicly burned. Originally this effigy represented a man in\nblack armour, and was intended for Sir Ralph Assheton, the tyrannical\nBlack Knight of Assheton, but later it was made up to resemble some\nperson who happened to be politically or socially unpopular in the\ntown. Bloody Mary (w.Yks.) is a name for the crane\u2019s-bill, _Geranium\nRobertianum_. To vanish in a bokanki (Dur.) is to take precipitate\nflight after the manner of Dr. Balcanqual, Dean of Durham, in the time\nof the Civil Wars, who fled from the city with extreme precipitation,\nafter the battle of Newburn, for fear of the Scots. A reminiscence of\nthe days when rural England lived in terror of a Napoleonic invasion\nis contained in the phrase: marrow to Bonny (Lakel. w.Yks.), i.e. a\nmatch for Buonaparte, equally bad, applied to any one who bears a very\nbad character, or who has been guilty of a bad action. Chewidden Day,\nPicrous Day, and the phrase drunk as a Perraner, are all references\nto the reputed finders of tin in Cornwall. Tradition tells that St.\nPerran was one day cooking for himself a humble meal when a stream of\nwhite metal flowed out of the fire which he had built on a heavy black\nstone. Great was the joy of the good saint, for he perceived that\nthere had been revealed to him from above something which would be\nuseful to man. He communicated his discovery at once to St. Chewidden,\nand the two saints soon devised ways and means of producing this metal\nin large quantities. They called the Cornishmen together and told them\nof their treasures, and how they could set to work to obtain them.\nDays of feasting followed the announcement; mead and metheglin and\nother drinks flowed in abundance, and were partaken of so freely by the\nsaints and their followers, that St. Perran\u2019s name from that day passed\ninto a proverb. The name of Cromwell occurs in an Irish imprecation:\nthe curse of Cromwell, and in the Lincolnshire saying: it caps old\nOliver, and he capped Long Crown, i.e. the Cavaliers, so called from\nthe shape of their hats, said when anything very extraordinary is\nrecounted. Other versions of this expression are: it caps Leatherstarn,\nand he capt the divel (e.Yks.), it cowes the gowan (Sc.), it flogs\nt\u2019doll (Yks.). A red-haired Dane (Sus. Wil. Som. Cor.) is a term of\nreproach applied to a man with red hair. Such a man is often said to\nbe crossed wi\u2019 the Danes, or a bit touched wi\u2019 the Danes. Danes\u2019 blood\n(Wil.) is the dwarf elder, _Sambucus Ebulus_, popularly believed only\nto grow on the ancient battle-fields, and to have sprung originally\nfrom the blood of the slain Danes. The same name is also given to\nthe pasque-flower, _Anemone Pulsatilla_ (Hrt. Cmb. Nrf.), and to the\nclustered bell-flower, _Campanula glomerata_ (Cmb.); it also denotes\na certain species of red clay found in Hampshire. Dane-weed (Nhp.) is\na name for the field eryngo, _Eryngium campestre_. A Dane\u2019s skin is a\nfreckled skin. Derwentwater Lights (Nhb. Cum.) is a name for the aurora\nborealis. On the night of the execution of the Earl of Derwentwater\nthe aurora borealis flashed with remarkable brilliancy, and has since\nbeen so named in remembrance of him. Duff\u2019s luck (Sc.) is a proverb\nexpressive of some special good fortune. Duff is the family name of\nthe Earls of Fife, a family which has for many generations gone on\nadding land to land, successfully building up huge estates. The days\nof the Duke of Monmouth\u2019s rebellion are remembered as Dukin\u2019-time\n(Som.). Schoolboys in north Lincolnshire call coloured snail-shells or\nbutterflies English, the origin of which term dates back to the period\nof the long war with France, when children used to kill all the white\nbutterflies they could find, regarding them as symbols of the French.\n\n[Sidenote: _Allusions to Historical Events and Noteworthy Personages_]\n\nHere and there some noteworthy man is commemorated in an everyday\nsimile, as for instance: as deep as Garrick; as big as Gilderoy; as sour\nas Hector. The name gaskin (Ken. Sus.) denotes a species of wild cherry\nbrought from France by Joan of Kent when her husband, the Black Prince,\nwas commanding in Guienne and Gascony. Effigies of Guy Fawkes may still\nbe seen on Nov. 5, carried by small boys who beg for coppers with a:\nPlease to remember poor Guy, but the old rhymes narrating his history\nare now seldom heard. An old Devonshire version runs:\n\n    Wul \u00e9 plaize t\u00fc remimber\n      Tha veefth ov Novimber\n    Tha gunpowder trayson an\u2019 plot;\n      I daunt zee no rayson\n      Why gunpowder trayson\n    Sh\u00fcde iver be vurgot.\n\nThis was sung on the night of Nov. 4, when funds were collected for the\nnext day\u2019s bonfire. On the 5th, the _momet_ or figure was carried round\nby boys singing:\n\n                Guy Fawkes, Guy!\n    He and \u2019is companions did contrive\n    T\u00fc blaw all Englan\u2019 up alive,\n    With a dark lantern an\u2019 a match,\n    By God\u2019s massy \u2019e wuz catched.\n\n[Sidenote: _Local Traditions_\n           _Old Customs_\n           _Oak-Apple Day_\n           _Robin Hood_]\n\nIn West Yorkshire, Nov. 5 is known as Plot, and a special kind of\ncake, made of oatmeal and treacle and called _parkin_, is eaten at\nabout that date. A curious bit of testimony to the popularity of\nShakespeare may be traced in the common Yorkshire expression to play\nHamlet (with), e.g. Bai gou, lad! wen ta gets \u2019oam ther\u2019ll bi \u2019amlit\nto pleay; Mi mother pleayed \u2019amlit wi\u2019 \u2019im fer stoppin\u2019 aht lat at\nneet. The use of Hanover in exclamations and mild oaths such as: What\nthe Hanover do I care about it! (Lin.), Go to Hanover and hoe turnips!\n(e.Suf.), is said to date from the time of the Georges, who were very\nunpopular in the east of England. According to an old Cheshire legend,\nfor several days before the battle of Blore Heath, there arose each\nmorning out of the fosse three mermaids, who announced: Ere yet the\nhawberry [hawthorn-berry] assumes its deep red, Embued shall this\nheath be with blood nobly shed. Higgledy-piggledy, Maupas shot (Chs.)\nmeans serving all alike, a saying which is sometimes extended by the\naddition of: let every tub stand on its own bottom. The tradition\nwhich accounts for its origin is by some attributed to James I, and\nby others to William III. The kernel of the story in either case is\nthe refusal of the then Rector of Malpas to treat the monarch to his\nshare of a dinner at the village inn. In spite of the remonstrances\nof the Curate, who was also present, the shot was equally divided\nbetween the three: higgledy-piggledy all pay alike. Later the monarch\ncaused the same rule to be applied to the benefice, and henceforth the\nCurate received a moiety of the glebe and tithes. Hobby-horse Day is\na festival held in Padstow on May 1. A hobby-horse is carried through\nthe streets to a pool about a quarter of a mile outside the town, where\nit is supposed to drink. The procession then returns home singing a\nsong to commemorate the tradition that the French, having landed in the\nbay, mistook a party of mummers in red cloaks for soldiers, and hastily\nfled to their boats and rowed away. Hockney Tuesday, that is the first\nTuesday after Easter week, is celebrated at Hungerford in Berkshire\nas Kissing Day, in accordance with the charter which John of Gaunt\ngave the town after its services in some great battle. Two tutty-men\nvisit each house in the borough, and demand a coin of the realm from\neach male, and a kiss from every female. They each carry a staff about\nsix feet long, bedecked with flowers and ribbons, the whole being\nsurmounted with a cup and spike bearing an orange, which is given\naway with each salute, and then replaced by another one. The tutty-men\n[nosegay-men] are the tything-men, selected from the tradesmen of the\ntown, whose duty it was before the establishment of the county police\nto act as constables, and assist in preserving order in the town.\nPictures of the proceedings on Kissing Day appeared in the _Daily\nGraphic_ of April 6, 1910, entitled \u2018Hocktide at Hungerford: Quaint\nthirteenth-century customs observed\u2019. Hock-Monday in Sussex is kept as\na festival in remembrance of the defeat of the Danes in King Ethelred\u2019s\ntime. The term Kemble\u2019s Pipe (Hrf.), applied to the concluding pipe\nany one smokes at a sitting, is now no longer in current use. The\noriginal Kemble was executed at Hereford on Aug. 2, 1679, on a charge\nof implication in Titus Oates\u2019 plot. On his way to execution he\nsmoked his pipe and conversed with his friends, and hence arose the\nname Kemble\u2019s Pipe for the last pipe smoked in a social company. The\ncloud-berry, _Rubus Chamaemorus_, in many north-country dialects is\nknown by the name of knout-berry. A Lancashire tradition derives this\nname from King Cnut, or Cnout, who, being reduced to great extremity,\nwas preserved from starvation by feeding on this fruit. There\u2019s been\nworse stirs than that at Lathom is a Lancashire saying used when a\nflitting, a whitewashing, or any domestic stir of an unpleasant nature\nmakes an apology needful on the score of untidiness or confusion. It\nalludes to the havoc made when the Parliamentary forces took Lathom in\n1645. To pull anything Lymm from Warburton (Chs.) signifies to pull\nanything to pieces. The expression originates from the fact that the\nchurch livings of Lymm and Warburton were formerly held together, but\nthat they were eventually separated, and the income of the rectors of\nLymm thereby reduced. Nelson\u2019s bullets (n.Cy.) is the name of a kind\nof sweetmeat made in the shape of small balls. A Norman (Suf.) is a\ntyrannical person. Lord Northumberland\u2019s Arms (Nhb.) is synonymous with\na black eye. The 29th of May, commemorating the Restoration of Charles\nII, is commonly observed in the midland and south-western counties.\nThe day is variously known as: Oak-apple Day, Oak-ball Day, Royal Oak\nDay, and Shick-shack Day. Shick-shack is the name of the piece of\noak, especially one with an oak-apple attached, which is worn before\nnoon, mostly by school-children. In the afternoon the shick-shack is\ndiscarded, and monkey-powder, i.e. leaves of the ash, put in its place.\nIn the evening both emblems have to disappear, or the wearers are\nbeaten with nettles (Oxf.). Elsewhere the beating with nettles is the\npunishment for not wearing any oak-leaves at all. In Yorkshire a boy\nwho does not wear the oak is nicknamed a Papish. The Penny Hedge (Yks.)\nis a fence or hedge of wicker-work set up annually on the eastern\nshore of Whitby harbour, at the Feast of the Ascension. According to a\nlegend, dating from 1315, \u2018the lords of Sneaton and Ugglebarnby, with\nothers, whilst hunting the boar, did mortally injure an hermit, who\ndared to protect the quarry.\u2019 As penance for this outrage, the local\nlord and his successors after him must thenceforth plant a certain\nnumber of stakes every year in the tideway. This performance is now\ncalled the Horngarth Service, or the Setting of the Penny Hedge. A\nCheshire version of a well-known proverb is: When the daughter is\nstolen, shut the Peppergate. The proverb is said to be founded on\nfact. The daughter of a certain Mayor of Chester was stolen as she was\nplaying at ball in Pepper Street, and the young man who carried her\noff took her through the Pepper Gate. After the loss of his daughter,\nthe Mayor ordered the gate to be closed. The case is altered, quoth\nPlowden (Shr.), is a phrase which originated through the unexpected\ndecisions given by Judge Plowden, an eminent lawyer in Queen Mary\u2019s\ntime. A _pussivanting_ (Dev. Cor.) is an ineffective bustle; used as an\nadjective the word is equivalent to meddling, fussy. It is undoubtedly\na corruption of _poursuivant_, but whether the original Poursuivants\nfrom whom the term is derived were those sent into Cornwall in the\nfifteenth century, threatening punishment for the blackmailing habits\nof certain Cornish sea-captains, or whether they were the Poursuivants\nof the latter part of the seventeenth century, who were sent to search\nout all those entitled to bear arms, is a matter on which opinions\ndiffer. The name of Queen Anne is used to denote a coloured butterfly\n(Chs.), an ancient gun (Sc.), and an old-fashioned tale (n.Yks.),\ne.g. Tell us some o\u2019 your aud Queen Anners. Queen Anne\u2019s flowers\n(Nrf.) is a name for the daffodil; Queen Anne\u2019s needlework (Nhp.) is\nthe striped crane\u2019s-bill. Queen Mary\u2019s thistle (Nhp.), the cotton\nthistle, _Onopordon Acanthium_, owes its name to the tradition that\nit was brought to Fotheringay by Mary\u2019s attendants. Various plants\nare named after Robin Hood, e.g. Robin Hood\u2019s feather, or fetter\n(Cum.), the traveller\u2019s joy, _Clematis Vitalba_; Robin Hood\u2019s hatband\n(Cum. Yks.), the club moss, _Lycopodium clavatum_; Robin Hood\u2019s men,\nor sheep (Lin.), the bracken fern, _Pteris aquilina_. To go round by\nRobin Hood\u2019s barn (Cmb. w.Midl.) is to go a roundabout way, to go the\nfarthest way; Robin Hood\u2019s wind (Chs.) is a wind which accompanies a\nthaw. It is said that Robin Hood could stand anything but a thaw wind.\nA Yorkshire proverb runs: Many speak of Robin Hood, that never shot his\nbow, i.e. many people talk of doing great things which they can never\naccomplish. It\u2019s long o\u2019 comin\u2019, like Royal Charlie (Irel.), is said\nof a thing that has been long expected. A Scarborough warning (Yks.\nNrf.) signifies no warning at all. The origin of the saying rests on\nthe statement that in 1557 Thomas Stafford entered and took possession\nof Scarborough Castle before the townsmen were aware of his approach.\nSherra-moor (Sc. Nhb. Dur.), used to signify a row, tumult, a state of\nconfusion, is originally a name given to the Rebellion of 1715. The\ntitle of Vicar of Bray (Brks.) is applied as a term of contempt to a\nturncoat.\n\n[Sidenote: _Historical Value of Loan-words_]\n\nApart from isolated scraps of history preserved in epithets and\nsayings such as these, there is the mass of historical evidence that\ncan be gleaned by a careful study of the loan-words in the dialects. We\nhave already noted many of them, but only for their philological value.\nTo estimate their importance from an historical point of view they\nwould have to be treated geographically, the point of consideration\nbeing not the form in which they are found, but the locality. Thus we\nshould obtain valuable corroborative testimony to known historical\nfacts, regarding the settlement of the British Isles. For instance,\nhistory tells us that some time before the Norman Conquest some Flemish\npeople settled in England. John of Trevisa wrote: \u2018The Flemmynges, that\nwoneth in the west syde of Wales, habbeth yleft here strange speche\nand speketh Saxonlych ynow.\u2019 But in learning English they carried over\ninto the new language some of their own words, and these Flemish words\nbrought in by these colonists have remained in the dialects of those\ncounties which lie on the west side of Wales, e.g. south Pembroke and\nGlamorganshire.\n\nThe loan-words, further, give living support to written history in\npointing back to the existence of Frisians in Kent, the Isle of Wight,\nand Hampshire; to an early settlement of people from the south-west of\nEngland in Wexford; to the influx of Scots into Ulster; and of Huguenots\ninto Norfolk. They prove, too, that far more Normans settled in the\nsouth-midland and southern counties than in the rest of England; that\nthe Scandinavian settlers in East Anglia were to a great extent Danes;\nand that the Scandinavians in Northumberland, Durham, Cumberland,\nWestmorland, Yorkshire, and Lancashire were chiefly Norwegians.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XII\n\nSUPERNATURAL BEINGS\n\n\nA book such as this cannot pretend to do justice to the mine of\nfolk-lore which even the most superficial acquaintance with the dialects\nopens up to any one who cares to delve therein. Here we meet with the\noutward and visible signs of old superstitions of mythical origin,\npopular beliefs, faith in charms, and quaint medical lore concerning all\nkinds of human ills, betokening a strange mixture of Christianity and\ncreeds of heathen times, of pious faith and childlike dread of the\nunknown and mysterious still existing in the minds of our rural\npopulation. Very many of these old superstitious beliefs and practices\nare, as we should naturally expect, dead and gone, or traceable only in\nshadowy legend and story, the marvel is that so many are yet alive in\nspite of the spread of education. Indeed, superstition is by no means a\nmonopoly of the uneducated or semi-educated mind, the only difference is\nthat where the rustic gives free expression to his fears and fancies, we\ndisguise ours from the public gaze under a cloak of mockery or of\nwould-be science.\n\n[Sidenote: _Local Apparitions_]\n\nAmong the outworn superstitions is the belief in all those imaginary\nbeings that peopled the darkness of long ago. They have nearly all\ndisappeared, except that the names of some of them have been added\nto the list of that hideous crew of fictitious personages invented\nto terrorize the young. They are chiefly monstrous animals, and\ngoblins, some harmless, some terrific and of evil omen; the ghost, as\nthe spirit of the departed, is a minor character on the stage. The\ndialect terms: _fearing_, _frittening_, _summat_, _things_, usually\nimply ghostly appearances of any shape, not specially human. The same\nmay be said of the word _know_, e.g. The know of a dog, is the shape\nof a dog when the dog is not there. _Ghostlin_ is a contemptuous\nterm for an apparition, one which might be used by a person born on\nChristmas Day, for such are born ghost-free to the end of their lives.\nTo _come again_ is the common phrase for the supposed return of the\ndead, e.g. You remembers \u2019Arry Whitly as was cut t\u2019pieces an the\nline? Well, he comes agen strong, in six pieces; or the dead man may\nbe said to be _troublesome_, e.g. I can\u2019t never bide in th\u2019ouse--the\npoor old Harry\u2019s that troublesome. Here and there some special ghost\nkeeps its local habitation and name, as for instance, Spotloggin, the\nghost of a murdered man which haunts a certain ditch near Evesham in\nWorcestershire. It appears after dark to any one who attempts to cross\nthe ditch at a point where there is no hedge on the bank, and where\naccording to tradition no hedge will grow, it being the precise spot\nwhere the murder took place. We may presume that few do venture to\npass that way, and encounter the veritable ghost, for its identity is\nstill a matter of question. Some who ignore the commonplace murder\nstory, maintain that Spotloggin was \u2018a lady of that name who used to\npatch her face, and was supposed to be very proud\u2019. Speaking generally,\nhowever, I think it may be said that it is rather the educated mind\nwhich concerns itself with ghosts of this kind. A lady historian of\nShropshire folk-lore tells us that her inquiries after ghost-stories\nhad more than once been met by this answer from the country rustic: I\ndunna believe as there\u2019s anythin\u2019 in it, as the dead come back. If they\nbin gone to the good place they wouldna want to come back, and if they\nbin gone to the tother place they wouldna be let to.\n\n[Sidenote: _Boggarts_]\n\nThe generic name for an apparition, whether ghost or hobgoblin, is\n_boggart_ or _boggard_, cp. \u2018a boggarde, _spectrum_\u2019, Levins, _Manip._\n1570. Many an old Hall in Lancashire had its own private and particular\nboggart, as for instance, the Boggart of Clegg Hall, the Clayton Hall\nBoggart, the Clock House Boggart, &c. The Clock House Boggart was\nwont to stalk through the bedchambers at dead of night, and strip the\nbedclothes off the sleepers; or it would sit, a gigantic, white-robed\nfigure, perched solemnly in a large yew-tree, beneath which tree it\nwas ultimately laid by an assemblage of divines. The Clayton Hall\nBoggart was likewise notorious for its nightly pranks--snatching\nthe clothes off beds, trailing heavy weights across floors, and the\nlike--till at last it became so insufferable that steps had to be taken\nto lay it. One of the best ways of laying a boggart was to beguile it\ninto consenting to keep away \u2018while hollies are green\u2019. The average\nboggart, being too dull-witted to perceive the true inwardness of the\nsuggestion, easily fell into the trap, and was never able to appear\nagain. Aw\u2019m heere agen, like the Clegg Hall Boggart, is, or used to\nbe, a popular saying commemorating one of these well-known ghosts.\nA horse that starts at any object in the hedge or road is said to\ntake the boggart. In Cheshire the word denotes a scarecrow, a meaning\nfamiliarized to us by Caldecott\u2019s illustrations to _The Three Jovial\nHuntsmen_:\n\n    They hunted, an\u2019 they hollo\u2019d, an\u2019 the first thing they did find,\n    Was a tatter\u2019t boggart, in a field, an\u2019 that they left behind.\n\nCp. \u2018Like as a fray-boggarde in a garden off cucumbers kepeth nothinge,\neven so are their goddes of wod, of sylver and golde,\u2019 Coverdale\n(1535), _Baruch_ vi. 69. The most dramatic and awesome of all the\nboggarts is the north-country Barghest, a frightful goblin armed with\nteeth and claws, having eyes as big as saucers, and loaded with heavy\nchains, which rattle and clank, like Herne the Hunter who \u2018shakes a\nchain in a most hideous and dreadful manner\u2019, _Merry Wives_, IV. iv.\n33. Sometimes the Barghest takes the shape of a large dog, donkey, pig,\nor calf; sometimes only its terrifying shrieks are heard, as it passes\nby at midnight, boding death to any one who happens to hear the sound.\nIt has long been a prominent figure among apparitions, and various\nattempts have been made to account for its name. Some folklorists think\nthat the word is a corruption of _barn-ghaist_ [ghost], others suggest\n_bier-ghaist_, and others, with a sense of the picturesque, say it is\n_bar-ghaist_, because the spectre had a habit of sitting on the top\nrail of a gate or fence, waiting, ready to leap on to the shoulder of\nthe belated wanderer. But whatever its origin, the name yet lives in\nproverbial sayings such as: to roar like a barghest (Dur.), and as a\nterm of abuse (Yks. Not.), e.g. You noisy bargust, said to a child, or:\nY\u2019er allus i\u2019 th\u2019road, yer young bargest, ger out! Church-grim (Yks.)\nis a fixed inhabitant of the church by day and by night, and only\n\u2018marauds about\u2019 in dark stormy weather. It has been known to toll the\ndeath-bell at midnight, and at times a priest officiating at a burial\nwould see it sitting at a window in the church-tower, when he would be\nable to tell by the creature\u2019s aspect whether the soul of the departed\nwas saved or lost. Clap-cans (Lan.) does nothing beyond making a noise\nas of beating on empty cans. Gally-trot (n.Cy. Suf.) is the name of\nan alarming apparition in the shape of a dog, and of the size of a\nbullock. It is white, and somewhat shadowy of outline, and it gives\nchase to any one who runs away from it in fear. The word is derived\nfrom _gally_, to frighten, scare, and may also be used as a common term\nfor ghostly objects in general, though it sounds almost slangy, and one\ncould fancy that in spectral circles it might be deemed an impertinence\nto speak--let us say--of the Barghest of York as a mere gally-trot.\nA guytrash (n.Cy. Yks.) is an evil cow whose appearance was formerly\nbelieved in as a sign of death. Jack-in-irons (Yks.) is a supernatural\nbeing of great stature, wearing clanking chains, who may at any moment\nspring out on a passer-by in the dark. Old Baker, Old Bendy, and Old\nLob are just ordinary boggarts. Pad-foot is a terrible boggart with\nsaucer-eyes, and dragging clanking chains; or it takes the form of a\nlarge sheep or dog walking beside you, making a soft noise--pad, pad,\npad--with its feet. It always portends disaster. Old Shock (e.An.) is\na mischievous goblin in the shape of a great dog or calf, haunting\nhighways and footpaths after dark. Those who are so foolhardy as to\nencounter the beast are sure to be thrown down and severely bruised.\nSkriker (Yks. Lan.) is an apparition portending death. It wanders\nabout in the woods by night uttering loud, piercing shrieks, its form\nbeing then invisible. At other times it takes visible shape as a large\ndog, with enormous feet and shaggy hair, and the usual saucer-eyes.\nWhen walking, its feet make a splashing noise, as of a person in old\nshoes walking in soft mud; hence it is also known by the name of Trash,\nfor to _trash_ signifies to walk wearily through wet and mire, and\n_trashes_ are worn-out shoes.\n\n[Sidenote: _Apparitions in the form of Animals_]\n\nThen there is the phantom horse under its various names: Aughisky\n(Irel.), the fairy water-horse that preys on cattle; Phooka (Irel.), the\nspectral horse which carries off belated travellers on its back; Neugle\n(Sh.I.), the water-kelpie which appears in the form of a sleek horse,\nand vanishes in a \u2018blue lowe\u2019, also known by the name of De Shoopiltie;\nShagfoal (Lin. Nhp.), a hobgoblin in the shape of a small, rough horse,\nwith eyes like tea-saucers; Tangie (Sh. & Or.I.), a sea-spirit which\nsometimes assumes the appearance of a horse, and at other times that of\nan old man. Taroo-ushtey (I.Ma.) is a fabulous water-bull.\n\n[Sidenote: _Gabriel\u2019s Hounds_]\n\nThe Gabriel Ratchets, Gabble Raches, or Gabriel\u2019s Hounds (n.Cy. Yks.\nLan. Stf. Der.) are spectre dogs whose yelping cry may be heard at dead\nof night, or in the early morning, what time the collier goes to his\nwork in the pits, a warning of death to the hearer or to some one among\nhis kinsfolk and acquaintance. Their leader Gabriel is condemned to\nfollow his hounds at night, high in the upper air, till doomsday, for\nthe sin of having hunted on Sunday. Wordsworth alludes to this\nsuperstition in one of his Sonnets:\n\n    For overhead are sweeping Gabriel\u2019s Hounds,\n    Doomed, with their impious lord, the flying hart\n    To chase for ever on a\u00ebrial grounds.\n\n[Sidenote: _The Devil and his Dandy-dogs_]\n\nBy some the sound is believed to be the cry of the restless souls\nof children who have died unbaptized. As a matter of fact it is\nprobably caused by flocks of wild geese or other fowl. The term is\nfound as far back as 1483 in the _Catholicon Anglicum_: \u2018Gabrielle\nrache, _camalion_,\u2019 cp. \u2018Ratche, hounde, _ordorinsecus_,\u2019 _Prompt.\nParv._, O.E. _r\u00e6cc_, a dog that hunts by scent. In Cornwall a spectre\nhuntsman and his pack of baying hounds are known as the Devil and his\nDandy-dogs. Unlike the Gabriel Ratchets, which fly too high in the\nair to be visible to mortal eye, the Devil and his Dandy-dogs walk\nthe earth, and may be seen as well as heard. They frequent bleak and\ndreary moors on tempestuous nights, and woe betide the unlucky wretch\nwho chances to cross their path. A story is told of a poor herdsman who\nwas journeying home across a moor, one windy night, when, above the\nnoise of the storm, he heard behind him the howl of the yelping dogs,\nand the grim halloa of the hunter. Presently they had so gained on him,\nthat, glancing back, he could see the terrible saucer-eyes, horns, and\ntail of the hunter, a black form, carrying a long hunting-pole, and\nthe mass of dogs, each snorting fire and uttering frightful yelps. But\njust as they were about to spring upon him, by a happy inspiration he\nfell on his knees in prayer, and the foe was rendered powerless. The\nhell-hounds stood for a moment at bay, howling dismally, and then,\nled by their master, they drew off and disappeared. These phantom\nhounds, jet-black, and breathing flames are also known by the name of\nHeath-hounds; Yeth-hounds (Som. Dev. Cor.), and Wisht-hounds (Dev.\nCor.).\n\nTo roar like Tregeagle is a Cornish phrase, whereby hangs a tale. One\ntradition tells that Tregeagle was a steward in the reign of James II,\nwho made himself unpopular by his harshness to the tenantry, and another\nlegend bases his claim to notoriety on his being a Cornish Bluebeard,\nwho married several heiresses for their money, and afterwards murdered\nthem. But whether for cruelty to tenants, or murder of wives, as a\npunishment for his sins his spirit was doomed to toil for ever at\nimpossible tasks such as weaving sand, and emptying perennial pools with\na cockle-shell. When the Devil is so minded he amuses himself by hunting\nthis miserable ghost over the moor with his hell-hounds, at which time\nTregeagle is heard to roar and howl in so dreadful a manner that his\nname has passed into a proverb.\n\n[Sidenote: _The Seven Whistlers_]\n\nThe Seven Whistlers are mysterious birds, the sound of whose cry is a\nsign of some great calamity. Miners have been known to refuse to go down\nthe pits the day after hearing it, believing that some accident would\nbefall them if they did so. The superstitions concerning the Seven\nWhistlers vary in different parts of the country, from Lancashire to\nEssex and Kent. Wordsworth records of his ancient Dalesman:\n\n    He the seven birds hath seen that never part,\n    Seen the Seven Whistlers on their nightly rounds,\n    And counted them.\n\nIn parts of Shropshire and Worcestershire they were, according to the\nlegend, seven birds, six of whom fly about continually looking for the\nseventh, and when they find him, the world will come to an end. The idea\nof the wailing of unseen birds sent by Providence as a direct warning of\napproaching danger belongs more particularly to colliery districts,\nthough it is not confined to them. Just as behind the stories told of\nthe Gabriel Ratchets is the natural cry of migrating wild geese, so the\nvoice of the Seven Whistlers can be traced to passing flocks of widgeon,\ncurlews, or plovers. Indeed, the name is actually given in some places\nto these birds: I knows what makes the noise; it\u2019s them long-billed\ncurlews; but I never likes to hear them (Ken.).\n\n[Sidenote: _Names for imaginary Monsters_]\n\nThe boggarts who are named in those awful threats by means of which the\nyoung are quelled into obedience to authority seem wellnigh innumerable.\nThey include monsters of every sort and description, from the plain\nunadorned bogie--e.g. If tha doesna leave off skrikin\u2019, I\u2019ll fetch a\nblack bogy to thee--to the highly dramatic figure of the skeleton that\nhaunted the wicked murderer, crying, Oi want my booans, Oi want my\nbooans! Pictures such as this, when presented to the vivid imagination\nof children, doubtless gain rather than lose in lurid colouring and\nterrifying shape, and one shudders to think of the effect they must\nproduce on impressionable minds, though in the majority of cases, no\ndoubt, familiarity breeds a wholesome contempt. Amongst these imaginary\nmonsters are: the Black man (Sc. Lei. War. Oxf. Sus. Som. Dev.); Black\nParr (Nhp.); the Bo-chap (n.Yks.); the Bo-lo (Nhb.); the Bodach (Sc.),\ne.g. In ye binna quayet the bodach ill cum doon the lum [chimney] an\u2019\ntak ye; Bugabo (Sc. Irel. Midl.), Bugan (I.Ma. Chs. Shr.). The simple\nform _Bug_, a bogie, is apparently obsolete, remaining only in the\nphrase _to take bug_ (Midl.), to take fright. Dr. Johnson has: \u2018Bug.\nBugbear.... A frightful object; a walking spectre, imagined to be seen;\ngenerally now used for a false terrour to frighten babes.\u2019\nJack-up-the-orchard (Shr.), e.g. If yo\u2019 dunna tak\u2019 car\u2019 I\u2019ll shewn yo\u2019\nJack-up-the-orchut\u2019; Knocky-boh (n.Yks.), a bogie who taps behind the\nwainscot to frighten children; Mumpoker (I.W.), e.g. I\u2019ll zend the\nmumpoker ater ye; Old Scrat (n.Cy. dials.), e.g. By goy! but auld\nScratty\u2019ll git thi if thoo doesn\u2019t come in; Pokey-hokey (e.An.); Punky\n(w.Yks.); Tankerabogus, or Tantarabobus (Som. Dev.), e.g. Now, Polly,\ny\u00fc\u2019ve abin a bad, naughty maid, and ef y\u00fc be sich a wicked cheel again,\nI\u2019ll zend vur tankerabogus t\u00fc come and c\u0101r y\u00fc away t\u00fc \u2019is pittee-awl\n[pit-hole]; Tod-lowrie (n.Cy.), e.g. Here\u2019s Tod-lowrie coming! In\nScotland the word is a name for the fox. Tom Dockin (Yks.), a bogie\nhaving iron teeth, with which he devours bad children; Tom-poker\n(e.An.), a bogie who inhabits dark closets, holes under stairs,\nunoccupied cock-lofts, &c. Churn-milk Peg (w.Yks.) and Melsh Dick\n(n.Cy.) are wood-demons supposed to protect soft, unripe nuts from being\ngathered by naughty children, the former being wont to beguile her\nleisure by smoking a pipe. The Gooseberry-wife (I.W.), in the guise of a\nlarge furry caterpillar, takes charge of the green gooseberries, e.g. If\nye goos out in the gearden, the gooseberry-wife\u2019ll be sure to ketch ye;\nwhile in the orchards is Awd Goggie (e.Yks.), guarding the unripe\napples. Grindylow, Jenny Green-teeth, and Nelly Long-arms (Yks. Lan.\nChs. Der. Shr.) are the various names of a nymph or water-demon who is\nsaid to lurk at the bottom of deep pits, ponds, and wells. When children\napproach too near to the edge of her domain, she will stretch out her\nlong, sinewy arms, seize them, and drag them under the water, holding\nthem there till they are drowned. Her presence is indicated by a green\nscum on the surface of the water. If there is no pond or deep water for\nher near by, she has been supposed to take up a temporary lodging in the\ntops of trees, where after nightfall she may be heard moaning, in a\nvoice like the sighing of the night-wind through the branches of trees.\nIn some parts of the country, instead of Jenny Green-teeth, the boggart\nof the ponds is a masculine water-demon called Rawhead (Yks. Lan. Lin.\nWar. e.An.), Tommy Rawhead (w.Yks.), Bloody-bones (Lan.), or Rawhead and\nBloody-bones, e.g. Keep away from the marl-pit or rawhead and\nbloody-bones will have you. This personage is often mentioned in our\nearlier literature. Dr. Johnson has: \u2018Rawhead.... The name of a spectre,\nmentioned to fright children,\u2019 followed by quotations from Dryden and\nLocke.\n\n[Sidenote: _Cornish Sprites_\n           _Cornish Traditions as to the Jews_]\n\nBucca, Gathorns, Knockers, Nicker, Nuggies, and Spriggans are\nindividual and collective appellations for the sprites that haunt the\ntin-mines of Cornwall. They hardly belong to the boggart tribe of\nspectres whose business it is to terrify mortals with gruesome sounds\nand horrid shapes. They are for the most part a harmless folk, occupied\nin mining on their own account, out of sight of the human miners. These\nlatter, however, take pains not to annoy the goblin workers; whistling\nand swearing, for instance, are held to be obnoxious to mine-spirits,\nand must therefore be avoided. Once upon a time there was a miner\ncalled Barker, who was foolhardy enough to say he did not believe there\nwere any Knockers. In revenge for this insult, a crowd of Knockers\nwaylaid him, and pelted him with their tools, causing him a lifelong\ninjury, whence grew up the proverb: As stiff as Barker\u2019s knee. Bucca\nis an Old Cornish word for hobgoblin. Nicker is the same word as Old\nEnglish _nicor_, a hippopotamus, a water-monster, in which latter sense\nit is found in the dialect of the Shetland Islands. This water-goblin\nis probably the original of Nickerbore (Yks.), of whom it is related\nthat he sat on the wrong side of a branch which overhung a stream, to\nsaw it off, and in consequence fell into the water. Tell Nickybore,\ndon\u2019t tell me, is equivalent to: Tell that to your grandmother. The\nKnockers know where to find the most productive lodes, and sometimes\nthey reward an industrious miner by pointing out to him where he might\ntake a good tribute pitch. They are generally heard working deep\nunderground, but at no great distance, for the rolling of barrows, the\nstroke of pickaxes, and the fall of earth and stones are distinctly\nheard, and sometimes voices seem to mingle with these sounds.\nSome say that these phantom toilers are the souls of the Jews who\nformerly worked the Cornish tin-mines, and who, for their wicked\npractices as tinners, have never been allowed to rest; others suppose\nthem to be the ghosts of the Jews that crucified Jesus, who were sent as\nslaves by the Roman Emperor to work the tin-mines. The association of\nthe mine-spirits with the Jews is based on the historical fact that\nafter the Conquest, the tin-mines of Cornwall and Devon were farmed by\nJews, as is proved by charters granted by several kings of England, more\nespecially by King John, and further corroborated by the existence of\nsuch terms as: _Jews\u2019 bowels_, small pieces of smelted tin found in old\nsmelting works; _Jews\u2019 houses_, very old smelting places; _Jews\u2019\nleavings_, mine refuse; _Jews\u2019 pieces_, very ancient blocks of tin.\n\n[Sidenote: _Will-o\u2019-the-wisp_]\n\nThe dialect terms denoting the ignis fatuus, or Will-o\u2019-the-wisp, are\nsome masculine and some feminine names; or again, they may denote an\nunpersonified apparition--e.g. corp-candle, corpse-candle (Sc. Lan.\nLin.); dead[death]-candle (Sc.)--regarded as an omen of death. Among\nthese names are: Billy-wi\u2019-t\u2019wisp (w.Yks.); Hobbledy\u2019s-lantern (War.\nWor. Glo.); Hob-lantern, Hobby-lantern (Wor. Hrt. e.An. Hmp. Wil.\nw.Cy.); Jack-a-lantern (in gen. dial. use), cp. \u2018Jack with a Lantern,\u2019\nJohnson, _Dict._; Jenny-burnt-tail (Nhp. Oxf.); Jenny-wi\u2019-t\u2019-lantren\n(Nhb. n.Yks.); Joan-in-the-wad, or Joan-the-wad [bundle of straw] (Som.\nCor.); Kit-in-the-candlestick (Hmp.); Kitty-candlestick (Wil.);\nKitty-wi\u2019-the-wisp (Nhb.); the Lantern-man (e.An.); Peg-a-lantern\n(Lan.); Peggy-lantern (Lin.); Pinket (Wor.). This lantern-bearing sprite\nhaunts bogs and swampy meadows, where it gambols and dances by itself,\nor:\n\n    Hovering and blazing with delusive light,\n    Misleads th\u2019 amaz\u2019d night-wanderer from his way\n    To bogs and mires, and oft through pond or pool,\n    There swallow\u2019d up and lost, from succour far.\n\nSome people have connected herewith the Led-will superstition formerly\ncurrent in East Anglia, explaining the phrase as meaning led-by-will,\ni.e. by Will-o\u2019-the-wisp. Led-will is defined as an influence under\nwhich the victims, though perfectly sane and sober, lose themselves on\nwell-known paths. It causes farmers to walk round and round their own\nfamiliar fields for hours without finding the exit, and to make short\ncircular tours in their gigs, returning to the point whence they\nstarted. Persons under this influence must always travel in circles, and\nthe only way of escape is to turn some article of their clothing. The\nmost probable meaning of the term is led astray, _will_ representing\nO.N. _villr_, bewildered, erring, astray, cp. \u2018\u00f0o fleg agar fro sarray\n[Sarai], ... In \u00f0e diserd [desert] wil and weri,\u2019 _Gen. & Exod._, c.\n1250.\n\n[Sidenote: _Hobgoblins_]\n\nThe \u2018drudging goblin\u2019, who threshes the corn and does the domestic\nwork whilst the farmer and his household are asleep, was known in the\ndialects as: Billy-blin (Sc.); Boman (Sh. & Or.I.); Brownie (Sc. Nhb.\nn.Yks. Cor.); Dobbs, or Master Dobbs (Sus.); Grogan (Irel.); Hob, and\nHob-thrush, or Hob-thrust (n.Cy. dials.), cp. \u2018Our own rustical\nsuperstition of hobthrushes, fairies, goblins, and witches,\u2019 Steele,\n_Guardian_, 1713; the Leprachaun (Irel.), the fairy shoemaker;\nRobin-round-cap (e.Yks.). This benevolent and humble sprite, though very\nuseful when properly treated, would disappear, or become openly\nmischievous, if annoyed. Chief among the things whereat he would take\noffence is the offering of recompense for his labours. A hob-thrust, who\nused to wear an old tattered hat when at work, found a new one put for\nhim in his accustomed haunt, whereupon he straightway departed, crying:\nNew hat, new hood, hobthrush\u2019ll do no more good. If the farmer or any of\nhis servants had spoken disrespectfully of the hobthrush, they would\npresently find cream-pans smashed to atoms, horses and cattle turned\nloose and driven into the woods, and the housewife\u2019s churning would\nproduce no butter. Sometimes the Hob or Dobby (Yks. Lan.) is famous only\nfor whimsical pranks of this nature. The popular story of the goblin who\nwas so troublesome that the farmer and his family packed up their goods\nand quitted the house, only to find that they were carrying the goblin\ntoo amongst the household stuff, is also told of the north-country Hob.\nI see you are flitting, said the neighbour, met by the way, Ay, we\u2019s\nflitting, came the voice of Hob from out of the churn. Weel, an\u2019 thou\u2019s\nganning teea, Ah\u2019ll just awa\u2019 back agen, rejoined the farmer. A certain\nYorkshire Hob, who had his dwelling in a cave, was noted for curing\nchildren of the whooping-cough, when thus invoked by those who took them\nto his abode: Hob-hole Hob! Mah bairn\u2019s getten t\u2019kin\u2019-cough: Tak\u2019 \u2019t\noff! Tak\u2019 \u2019t off! Though nowadays these sprites are dead and forgotten,\nwe occasionally find a trace of them preserved in a common phrase or\nproverbial saying, for instance: Master Dobbs has been helping you\n(Sus.), an expression used to a person who has done more work than was\nexpected. When a man boasts of being a good workman, as of the great\nnumber of things which he can make in a day, some one will say: Ah, tha\ncan mak\u2019 em faster nor Hob-thrust can throw shoes out o\u2019 t\u2019window\n(w.Yks.).\n\nBilly-winker (e.Lan.) is the mythical sprite that closes the eyes of\nchildren at bedtime; the Dunnie (Nhb.) is a mischievous goblin related\nto the Brownies; Peg o\u2019 Nell (Yks. Lan.) is the sprite of the River\nRibble, as Peg Powler (Dur.) is of the River Tees, with her green\ntresses, and her insatiable desire for human life. When foam floats on\nthe surface of the water it is Peg Powler\u2019s cream, or Peg Powler\u2019s suds.\nRed-cap, or Red-capie-dossie (Sc. Lan.) is an elf supposed to haunt old\ncastles and ruins. When a person runs away from his work, people say\nsuch a one has seen Red-cap. The Red-man (Nhp.) is an elf of solitary\nhabits residing in caves, old wells, &c. Thrummy-cap (n.Cy. Nhb.) was a\nwell-known local sprite who haunted the cellarage of old mansions. He\nwas supposed to wear a cap or bonnet made of _thrums_ or weavers\u2019 ends.\nWryneck (Lan.) is one of those imaginary beings reputed to surpass the\nDevil: He caps Wryneck, and Wryneck caps the Dule.\n\n[Sidenote: _References to the Devil in Plant-names_\n           _Names of Birds assigned to the Devil_]\n\nTo trace all the references to the Devil, to tabulate all the dialect\nsayings, and superstitions, and local legends relating to him, and\nto see through these the various forms he takes in the popular\nmind--whether beast with horns and hoofs, fiend, or giant--would be a\nliterary task in itself, and would fill a large volume. We can only\nhere point out a few of the many tracks wherein these allusions lie.\nObviously \u2018the very old un\u2019 is the original of most of the bogies\nrepresented as waiting to carry off naughty children--Old Scratt,\nTantarabobus, and the rest which we have enumerated above. Among\ndialect plant-names there are over fifty beginning with Devil-, not\ncounting those bearing one of his proper names, such as: Old Lad\u2019s corn\n(Shr.), the greater stitchwort; Owd Lad pea-cods (w.Yks.), the fruit of\nthe laburnum; Satan\u2019s cherries (n.Yks.), the deadly nightshade. It will\nbe seen from the following examples that the plants associated with the\nDevil all possess some objectionable quality; either they are weeds\nobnoxious to the farmer, or they are inherently unpleasant to smell or\ntaste, or simply ugly to behold: Devil\u2019s bit, or Devil\u2019s bit scabis\n(Sc. Yks. Lin. War. Wor. Shr. sw.Cy.), the blue scabious, perpetuates\na very old superstition, cp. \u2018It is commonly called Divels bit, of the\nroot (as it seemeth) that is bitten off: for the superstitious people\nhold opinion, that the diuell for enuie that he beareth to mankinde,\nbit it off, because it would be otherwise good for many vses,\u2019 Gerarde,\n_Herb._ ed. 1633, cp. \u2018_Mors du diable_, fore-bit, or devels-bit (an\nherb),\u2019 Cotgrave. The same plant is also known as Devil\u2019s button\n(Cor.), if picked, the Devil is said to appear at your bedside in\nthe night; Devil\u2019s churnstaff (Irel. Shr.), the sun-spurge, probably\nowes its name to the acrid milky juice contained in its stems; Devil\u2019s\nclaws (Hmp. I.W.), the common crowfoot; Devil\u2019s fingers (Nhp.), the\ncatkins of the black poplar, to pick them up is considered unlucky;\nDevil\u2019s garter (Wxf.), the great bindweed; Devil on all sides (w.Yks.),\nDevil on both sides (Dur. War. Bck.), the common crowfoot, so called\nfrom the hooks which surround the seeds and cause some difficulty in\nseparating them from the grains of corn; Devil\u2019s posy (Shr.), the\nbroad-leaved garlic; Devil\u2019s root (Ken.), the lesser broom-rape, very\ndestructive to clover; Devil\u2019s snuff-box (n. s. and sw. dials.), the\npuff-ball, from the snuff-like powder with which the fungus is charged\nin its mature state, and to which very baneful properties are popularly\nattributed; Devil\u2019s stinkpot (Yks.), the stink-horn. In like manner\nbirds and insects are assigned to the Devil, for example: Devil\u2019s bird\n(Sc. Shr.), the magpie, believed to have a drop of the Devil\u2019s blood\nin its tongue; also applied to the yellow-hammer (n.Cy.), commonly\nbelieved to drink a drop, some say three drops, of the Devil\u2019s blood\nevery May morning; Devil\u2019s coach-horse (Irel. Lin. Lei. Nhp. Wor. Shr.\nKen. Dev. Cor.), the rove-beetle, or common black cocktail, considered\na harbinger of ill-luck; Devil\u2019s darning-needle (Lan.), the dragon-fly;\nDevil\u2019s finger-ring (Nhp.),--golden ring (Ess. Dev.),--ring (Brks. Hrf.\nWil.), the caterpillar of the great tiger-moth, concerning which a\ncurrent belief in Berkshire is that if you touch it, it will curl round\nyour finger and suck your blood; Devil\u2019s pig (Oxf.), the woodlouse;\nDevil\u2019s screamer (ne.Yks.),--screecher (Hrf. Glo.),--shrieker\n(w.Yks.),--squeaker (Lan.), the common swift, so named on account of\nits long squeaks. No doubt its black colour, and impetuous flight, tend\nto give it an uncanny appearance.\n\nThe deil gang wi\u2019 ye, an\u2019 saxpence, an\u2019 ye\u2019ll nether want money nor\ncompany, is an Irish saying. What comes over the devil\u2019s back goes under\nhis belly (Yks. Chs. Lin.) is a proverbial saying used in speaking of\nill-gotten gains. Much cry and little wool, as the devil said when he\nshore the sow, is a Shropshire version of a familiar phrase. He likes\nhim as the devil likes holy water (w.Yks.) is equivalent to: he hates\nhim mortally. To say of a woman: shay\u2019s as nassty as a devil unknobbed\n(Lei.), implies that she is as dangerously spiteful as a devil with no\nknobs on his horns.\n\n[Sidenote: _Prodigious Feats of the Devil_]\n\nThe conception of the Devil as a giant capable of prodigious muscular\nfeats, but so dull of intellect that he is easily outwitted by the\nsimplest rustic, may be traced in the Devil\u2019s Spadeful legend that\nclings to certain isolated hills in different parts of the country. The\nDevil\u2019s Spadeful near Bewdley in Worcestershire is a sort of moated\nmound, easily seen from the Bewdley-Kidderminster loop railway.\nTradition tells that the Devil was approaching Bewdley carrying a\nspadeful of earth, with which he intended to dam up the Severn just\nbelow the town, and so destroy it and all the inhabitants by a flood. At\nthe point where the mound now stands he met a cobbler, laden with a sack\nof old boots and shoes which he was taking home to mend. The Devil had\nlost his way, and was feeling weary under his burden, so he asked the\ncobbler how far he must yet travel before reaching Bewdley. \u2018I cannot\nsay how far it is,\u2019 replied the cobbler, \u2018I only know that I have worn\nout all these boots and shoes on the road since I started.\u2019 Whereupon\nthe Devil relinquished his project in despair, and threw down his\nspadeful on the spot. Another version of the story adds that the cobbler\nhimself was buried under the mound. The present mound could quite well\nsuffice for a tumulus, but as a dam for the Severn it would seem\ninadequate. The same story belongs also to the Wrekin. The Devil, having\na spite against the Mayor and all his people, wished to submerge the\ntown of Shrewsbury. After throwing down his load, which formed the\nWrekin, the Devil scraped his boots on his spade, and the mud which he\nscraped off was such a pile that it made the little Ercall hill by the\nWrekin\u2019s side. Silbury Hill near Devizes is said to possess a version of\nthis legend.\n\n[Sidenote: _The Devil in Local Place-names_]\n\nThere are in various places isolated heaps of stones associated with\nthe Devil, and called Devil\u2019s Lapfuls. One such heap exists in the\nparish of Winsford in Somerset. It is a large scattered heap chiefly\nof quartz boulders on the brow of a hill, and no stones of the like\nformation are to be found anywhere near. It is said that the Devil\nmeant to build a bridge over the Barle, close by, with these stones,\nwhich he had brought from a long distance, when his apron-string\nbroke, and the stones fell where they now are, and whence they cannot\nbe removed. Not to be altogether deterred from his purpose, the Devil\nafterwards built the bridge called Tarr-steps with the great slabs\nof slaty rock found on the spot. Not far from the village of Stanton\nHarcourt near Oxford are three large stones known as the Devil\u2019s\nQuoits. According to local tradition, the Devil played here with a\nbeggar for his soul, and won by throwing these huge boulders.\n\nA legend which connects the Devil with the building of a church may be\nfound all over England in varying forms. The site of the church having\nbeen selected, stones were brought thither, and the work begun, but each\nnight the Devil came and carried the stones away, laying them down on\nthe spot where the church now stands. The workmen, tired of labouring in\nvain, gave up the original site, and adopted that chosen by the Devil,\nand thenceforth the building went on unmolested. In Shropshire the site\nwhich cannot be built upon is always at the top of a hill, but this is\nnot invariably the case elsewhere.\n\n[Sidenote: _Pixies and Fairies_]\n\nIt is difficult to classify all the supernatural beings known to\ndialect lore, otherwise than very roughly, for even a cursory glance at\nthe whole mass of superstitions and fancies regarding them shows that\nthere is great confusion of idea between fairies and witches, bogies\nand goblins. Sometimes it is the fairies who terrify the stabled horses\nat night, sometimes it is a witch; here the benevolent Hob has been at\nwork, and there his doings are ascribed to a pixy. The following may,\nhowever, rank as Fairies: the Derricks (Dev.), a species of dwarfish\nfairies, of somewhat evil nature; Nanny Button-cap (w.Yks.), of whom\nthe children sing:\n\n    The moon shines bright,\n    The stars give light,\n    And little Nanny Button-cap\n    Will come to-morrow night.\n\nFenodyree, or Phynnodderee (I.Ma.), a fallen fairy, who was banished\nfrom fairyland for having paid his addresses to a Manx maiden, and for\ndeserting the fairy court during the harvest moon to dance with her in\nthe Glen of Rushen. Stories are told of the great strength of Fenodyree.\nOn one occasion, when he was cutting grass, harrow-pins were placed in\nthe meadow to annoy him, but he cut them through without effort, merely\nremarking: \u2018Hard stalks, hard stalks.\u2019 Gancanagh (Irel.), who appears in\nlonesome valleys, and makes love to milkmaids. Collective names are: the\nFair Folk, or Gueede Neighbours (ne.Sc.), polite phrases used to avoid\nmentioning the name Fairies, which they were supposed to dislike; the\nGentle People, or Gentry (Irel.), to whom old hawthorn trees growing\nsingly were sacred. An old man who ventured to cut down one such tree\nwas shortly afterwards stricken with rheumatic fever, and the\ncircumstance was declared to be a judgment of the gentry upon him.\nHenkies (Sh. & Or.I.), so called because they were supposed to _henk_ or\nlimp when they danced, _Henkie knowes_ are the knolls round which these\ntrolls or fairies used to gambol at night; the Hill Folk (Sh.I. Lan.);\nthe Piskies, or Pixies (Sc. n. s. and sw.Cy.), believed in some\ndistricts (Dev. Cor.) to be the souls of unbaptized children which have\nbecome sprites; the Small Folk, or Small People (Cor.), supposed to have\ndwindled in size, and turned into _muryans_ [ants], wherefore it is\ndeemed unlucky to destroy a colony of ants. Popular etymology has made\nout of the common double plural form fairyses, a singular Pharisee (War.\nWor. e.An.), which among children gives rise to endless mistakes between\nthe fairies of the story-books and the Pharisees of the Bible.\n\n[Sidenote: _The Fairies in Plant-names_]\n\nThe associating of the fairies with certain plants and fungi leads\nto the formation of very picturesque plant-names, for example:\nFairy\u2019s-bath, or Fairies\u2019 bath (Sus. Hmp.), the fungus Jew\u2019s ears, or\nblood-cups; Fairy-butter (n.Cy. e.An. Hmp.), a species of fungus, of\nyellowish colour and gelatinous consistence, found growing upon rotten\nwood. The fairies are supposed to amuse themselves at night by flinging\ntheir butter so as to make it adhere to gates and doors. It is thought\nvery lucky to find it inside a house. Fairy-bell (Irel.), Fairy-fingers\n(Dur. Cum. n.Yks.), Fairy-glove (Irel. Dor.), Fairies\u2019-petticoats\n(Chs.), Fairy-thimbles (Cmb. Nrf. Ess.), the foxglove; Fairies\u2019-table\n(n.Wal.), the common mushroom; Fairy-cheeses (Yks.), the dwarf mallow;\nPixy-glove (Dev.), a thistle; Pixy (Dev.), the greater stitchwort,\nconcerning which children say that if you gather the flowers you will\nbe pixy-led; Pixy-pear (Hmp. Dev.), the hip, the fruit of the dog-rose,\nor (Dor. Som.) the haw, the fruit of the hawthorn; Pixy-stool (Sc. Hmp.\nSom. Dev. Cor.), a toadstool or mushroom. To pixy (w.Som.), or to go\npixy-wording, is to glean stray apples in an orchard after the trees\nhave been stripped. Fossil echini turned up by the plough, or found on\nthe sea-shore are termed Fairy-loaves, or Pharisee-loaves (Glo. e.An.).\nThere is a saying in Norfolk: If you keep a fairy-loaf you will never\nwant bread. The \u2018green sour ringlets\u2019 \u2018whereof the ewe not bites\u2019 are\nstill known as Fairy-rings (in gen. dial. use), or Pixy-rings (Som.\nDev.). It is thought safer to walk round them rather than across. Old\nlegends say that by running round a fairy-ring nine times on the first\nnight of the full moon, sounds of mirth and revelry may be heard from\nthe subterranean abode of the elves, who make this their dancing-green;\nor again, that on peaceful nights faint echoes of music, and the\npattering of tiny feet, may be wafted down from the hill-sides. It\nis said that the fairies were wont of old to wash their clothes in\nClaymore Well (Yks.), and mangle them with the _bittle and pin_. The\n_bittle_ is a heavy wooden battledore; the _pin_ is the roller; the\nlinen is wound round the latter, and then rolled backwards and forwards\non the table by pressure on the battledore. The strokes of the bittles\non fairy washing-nights could be heard a mile away. The following story\nof a fairy in the capacity of the benevolent sprite used to be told\nin one of the southern counties of England. Once upon a time there\nwas a young woman who married a thresher. Soon he turned out to be a\nhopeless drunkard; his work was neglected, and starvation stared them\nin the face. So the woman dressed herself in her husband\u2019s clothes, and\nwent to the barn to do the threshing whilst he slept off the effects\nof his drunkenness. On the morning of the second day she found her\npile of threshed corn double what she had left there overnight, and\nthis increase was repeated for three or four nights in succession. She\ndetermined to watch one night and discover who was her unknown helper.\nPresently she beheld a little pixy come into the barn, and set to work\nvigorously to thresh the corn, and as he swung his flail he sang:\n\n    Little pixy fair and slim,\n    Without a rag to cover him.\n\n[Sidenote: _Fairy Benevolence_]\n\nOut of pity and gratitude, the woman next day made him a tiny suit of\nclothes, and hung them up behind the barn door beside his flail. At\nnight when the pixy returned to work, he saw the clothes, and put them\non at once. Then, surveying himself with satisfaction, he sang:\n\n    Pixy fine and Pixy gay,\n    Pixy now must fly away.\n\nWith that he disappeared, and never came back any more.\n\n[Sidenote: _Mischievous Fairies_]\n\nDr. Johnson defines \u2018Fairy\u2019 thus: \u2018A kind of fabled beings supposed to\nappear in a diminutive human form, and to dance in the meadows, and\nreward cleanliness in houses.\u2019 The reward was bestowed in the form of a\ncoin secretly placed in the shoe of the industrious servant, an ancient\nbelief which was, we are told, long kept alive by mistresses, who would\nslip the expected coin into its place to encourage their servants\nto industry. But the fairies did not everywhere possess only this\nblameless reputation. Mischievous fairies were dreaded by the farmer\u2019s\nwife lest they should get into the dairy and spoil the cream. To keep\nthem away, every one who entered the dairy must stir up the cream with\nthe mundle (Wor.). A tangled knot in a horse\u2019s mane was proof of their\nhaving been in the stable, for this was the _pixy-seat_ (Dev.). A trace\nof what Dr. Johnson calls \u2018an odd superstitious opinion, that the\nfairies steal away children, and put others that are ugly and stupid in\ntheir places\u2019, remains in the dialect saying: Bless th\u2019 bairn, he must\nhev been chaanged (Lin.), used when a child, generally good-tempered,\nbecomes suddenly irritable without any obvious reason. Country folk in\nCornwall used to put a prayer-book under a child\u2019s pillow as a charm\nto keep away the pixies. The still prevailing superstition that it is\nunlucky for a woman after child-birth to go into anybody\u2019s house--some\nsay even to cross her own threshold--before she goes to be churched,\nis no doubt a remnant of the old belief that the mother until _kirk\u2019t_\nwas not safe from the power of the fairies. People suddenly seized with\nrheumatism, lumbago, paralysis, or fits were supposed to have been\nshot at by malicious fairies, and when a prehistoric arrow-head of\nflint or stone was picked up, it was alleged to be the fairy weapon,\nthe _awf-shot_ or fairy-dart. A hole in a deal board occasioned by the\ndropping out of a shrunken knot, was regarded as the path of a fairy\nshaft, and called an _awf-bore_. In Northumberland and Cumberland a\nsudden attack of illness or disease is still spoken of as a _shot_,\ne.g. a shot of rheumatics. The phrase Plaze God and the pigs (w.Som.)\nis probably a reminiscence of the days when the pigseys or pixies were\nregarded as powers which had to be reckoned with in ordinary daily\nlife. To laugh like a pixy (Dev. Cor.) is to laugh heartily, like the\nmerry elves of yore when they danced in the meadows by moonlight.\n\n[Sidenote: _Belief in Witchcraft_]\n\nThe belief in witches as active personalities belongs, together with\nthe belief in fairies, to bygone generations, but its traces are\nwith us still. On the one hand there are the old words and phrases,\nthe husks of a once living seed, and on the other hand is the vague\nsuperstitious dread of an evil influence which is none the less\nreal and potent because people have ceased to ascribe the dreaded\nill-luck to witchcraft and the evil eye. Among the plants associated\nwith witches are: Witch-bells (n.Cy.), the corn blue-bottle;\nWitch\u2019s-milk (Lan.), the common mare\u2019s-tail; Witch\u2019s-needles (Nhb.),\nthe shepherd\u2019s needle; Witch\u2019s-knot (Wm.), a bundle of matted twigs\nwhich forms on the branches of birches and thorns. The fungus which\nwe have already noticed under the name Fairy-butter, is also known\nas Witch\u2019s-butter (Nhp. w.Cy.); and the purple foxglove is sometimes\ncalled Witch\u2019s-thimble (Sc. Nhb.). When horses break out into a sweat\nin the stable, they are said to have been hag-rided (Som.); and\nthe tangled locks in their manes are the Witch\u2019s-stirrups (Shr.).\nIn parts of Surrey and Sussex a Fairy-ring is called a Hag-track.\nThe shoulder-bones of a sheep are termed Hag-bones (Som.), because\nformerly witches were believed to ride on them, and consequently it\nwas necessary to burn them. The ancient belief that the shells of\neggs used by the household were appropriated by the witches for boats\nis still regarded in practice, the spoon must be thrust through the\nbottom, or the shell crushed to pieces before it is thrown away, cp.\nSir Thomas Browne and his annotators: \u2018To break the egg-shell after the\nmeat is out, we are taught in our childhood, and practise it all our\nlives; which nevertheless is but a superstitious relique, according\nto the judgment of Pliny ...; and the intent hereof was to prevent\nwitchcraft.\u2019 \u2018To keep the fairies out, as they say in Cumberland,\u2019\nNote (Jeff.); \u2018Least they perchance might use them for boates (as they\nthought) to sayle in by night,\u2019 Note (Wr.), _Vulgar Errors_, Book V,\nChap. XXIII.\n\n[Sidenote: _The Evil Eye_]\n\nAs ill as a witch (Chs.) is a phrase meaning very ill. As fause\n[false, i.e. cunning] as a Pendle witch (Lan.) is a saying which\nkeeps on record the traditional association of Pendle Forest with\nwitches. It was there that the old custom called Lating [seeking]\nthe Witches used to be observed on All-hallows Eve, the night when\nthe witches were said to meet in the Forest. Lighted candles were\ncarried about the hills from eleven to twelve o\u2019clock. If the witches\nfailed to extinguish a light, the bearer was safe from their power\nfor the season, but if the light went out, it portended evil. Persons\nor things under the supposed influence of witchcraft or the evil eye,\nwere formerly said to be _blinked_ (Sc. Irel. Chs. Shr. e.An.), a\nword which still remains in e.Anglia in the sense of soured, spoiled,\nused of beer. The very common word _wisht_ (w. and sw. Cy.), meaning\nunlucky, uncanny, also physically weak, sickly, haggard, is no\ndoubt originally _wished_, i.e. ill-wished, or bewitched. The terms\n_overlooked_ (Sc. Irel. Yks. War. Shr. e.An. sw.Cy.), _overseen_ (Hrf.\nGlo.), _overshadowed_ (Dev.) were certainly used in their original\nsense of bewitched as late as the last two decades of the nineteenth\ncentury, cp. \u2018The last witness said deceased had been \u201covershadowed\u201d\nby some-one,\u2019 _n.Dev. Herald_, June 25, 1896. A writer in to-day\u2019s\n_Times_, Feb. 21, 1912, regards the belief in this form of witchcraft\nas still current: \u2018We still hear of people in remote villages who\ncomplain of being overlooked, and who actually pine away under the\nbelief that a spell has been cast upon them.\u2019\n\n[Sidenote: _Ill-Omens_]\n\nA White Witch was a person, either man or woman, who was supposed to\npossess the power of removing the spell, and of inflicting punishment\non the individual by whose malice the evil had been wrought. In return\nfor pecuniary considerations, the white witch dispensed oracular\nwisdom, and remedies in the form of charms. As recently as the year\n1890 a man who called himself \u2018the White Witch of Exeter\u2019 was convicted\non a charge of obtaining money by means of palmistry. Mrs. Sarah\nHewitt in her book on Devonshire customs and folk-lore--_Nummits and\nCrummits_--writes: \u2018In cases of sickness, distress, or adversity,\npersons at the present time (A.D. 1898) make long expensive journeys\nto consult the white witch, and to gain relief by his (or her) aid.\u2019\nThe miscellaneous articles and medicaments advocated by the white witch\nwe shall notice later when we come to consider charms and cures.\nMeanwhile let us first look at some of the many ways in which the old\nfear of mysterious evil still shows itself, that fear which in spite\nof our advances in education and civilization still makes men regard\ntrivial happenings with superstitious awe, and see omens of death and\nill-luck in the commonest things.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XIII\n\nSUPERSTITIONS\n\n\nChief among the \u2018unlucky\u2019 things regarded by the superstitious as\nomens of approaching calamity are those to which is attached the idea\nof a death-portent. This warning of death appears in various ways, it\nmay be seen in some purely accidental occurrence, or some chance act;\nit may be announced by a bird or some other animal; it may even lurk\nin the most innocent flower. The following are sure signs of death: If\na small oblong cinder flies out of the fire it is called a _coffin_\n(n.Cy.) and betokens death, especially if it lies silently where it\nfell; but if, on the other hand, it makes a crackling noise, it can be\na _purse_, and mean money in store, cp.:\n\n    Last night (I vow to Heaven \u2019tis true)\n    Bounce from the fire a coffin flew.\n                        Gay, _The Farmer\u2019s Wife and the Raven_.\n\n[Sidenote: _Terrifying Apprehensions_]\n\nA large hole in the crumb of a loaf is a _grave_ (Brks.), or a _coffin_\n(s.Not.). When the tallow or wax of a candle runs down on one side\nit often projects and then reunites to the candle, forming a sort of\nloop; this is a _coffin-handle_ (w.Som.), and is a sign of death to\nthe person in whose direction it forms itself. The same superstition\nholds when the grease from the guttering candle forms a broad solid\nmass, popularly termed a _winding-sheet_. A piece of charred wick at\nthe top of a burning candle is a _death-lowe_ [-flame] (Cum.), or a\n_shroud_ (Sc. Lin. Som.), and presages death, unless the flame be\nextinguished by immersing the candle in running water. When furniture\ncreaks suddenly it betokens death, but some say it only means a serious\nillness. If a clock, a picture, a looking-glass, or a flitch of bacon\nfalls, it portends death; so does a table-cloth, when it is badly\nfolded, and has a crease in the form of a diamond in the centre. If\nletters cross in the post; if the church clock strikes while the text\nof the Sunday morning\u2019s sermon is being given out, or while the last\nhymn is being sung; if a piece of land has been accidentally missed in\nploughing or sowing, it is a sign of death. The sound of singing in the\nears is the _dead-bell_ (Sc.). In some districts the choking sensation\nin the throat known as the _rising of the lights_ is held to forebode\ndeath, but more usually it is regarded as an insignificant physical\ncondition, to be remedied by swallowing small shot, the weight of which\nwill keep the _lights_ in their proper place. To break a looking-glass;\nto open an umbrella in the house, especially if it is held over the\nhead; to put the bellows on the table; to drop a comb--are all deeds\nwhich forebode somebody\u2019s death. The belief that if three people take\npart in making up a bed there is sure to be a death in the house within\nthe year, is a superstition which I found was held to in my own house,\ntogether with the very common one that it is unlucky to turn a mattress\non a Friday or Sunday.\n\n[Sidenote: _Portents of Death_]\n\nAmong the omens wrought by insects, perhaps the most common is the\ndeath-watch, also known as the _dead-chack_ (Sc.), and _death-tick_\n(Oxf. Dev.). Sir Thomas Browne made a careful study of this particular\nsource of \u2018terrifying apprehensions\u2019, cp. \u2018Few ears have escaped the\nnoise of the death-watch, that is, the little clickling sound heard\noften in many rooms, somewhat resembling that of a watch; and this is\nconceived to be of an evil omen or prediction of some person\u2019s death:\nwherein notwithstanding there is nothing of rational presage or just\ncause of terror unto melancholy and meticulous heads. For this noise is\nmade by a little sheath-winged grey insect, found often in wainscot\nbenches and wood-work in the summer. We have taken many thereof, and\nkept them in thin boxes, wherein I have heard and seen them work and\nknock with a little proboscis or trunk against the side of the box, like\na _picus martius_, or woodpecker against a tree. It worketh best in warm\nweather, and for the most part giveth not over under nine or eleven\nstrokes at a time,\u2019 _Vulgar Errors_, Bk. II, Chap. VII. There is great\ndiversity of opinion as to the signification of crickets. In some parts\nof England the sound of the cricket in the house is esteemed lucky (Yks.\nNhp. Cor.), in other parts unlucky (w.Cy.); and again, there are\ndistricts (Shr.) where it is looked upon as a death-portent. If a swarm\nof bees settles on the wall of a house, or on a dead tree, or wooden\nstake, it is a sign of an approaching death in the family; if they\n_knit_ on the ground, it is a sure sign of a berrin\u2019 [funeral]. A death\nin the family may also be presaged by the sudden death of a pig. I\nremember just twenty years ago, when an old cook, whom I knew very well,\ninquired after my brother who was then recovering from a severe attack\nof scarlet-fever, she concluded the conversation by saying: \u2018I knew\nquite well that there would be a serious illness in your family, because\nyou had told me that one of the pigs had died suddenly.\u2019 The sudden\ndeparture of rats from a house is sometimes held to betoken the death of\none of the inmates. A white bird flying past, or a dove flying against a\nwindow at night, or flying into a room, is a sign of death. In some\nplaces, any bird pecking at a window announces death, but the robin is\nthe chief harbinger of death, whether he announces his message by\ntapping at the window, chirping on the sill, or by hopping into the\nroom. In the winter of 1910, a tame robin used to cause considerable\nuneasiness in this household by coming into the house through the open\nwindows. If a crow settles on a house, one of the inmates will die\nwithin the year. If a hare or a white rabbit crosses your path; if you\nhear a hen crow; if the cock crows at midnight; or if a cow lows three\ntimes in your face, it is a sign of death, as are, too, the midnight\nhooting of owls, and the howling of dogs. In the Miracle Play in\nLongfellow\u2019s _Golden Legend_, when the Rabbi asks Judas Iscariot \u2018Why\nhowl the dogs at night?\u2019 the answer is:\n\n    In the Rabbinical Book, it saith\n    The dogs howl, when with icy breath,\n    Great Samma\u00ebl, the Angel of Death,\n    Takes through the town his flight.\n\nIf children pick the Herb Robert it means death to one or other of the\nparents, hence the name Death-come-quickly (Cum.); for the same reason\nthe Red and White Campion is called Mother-dee (Cum.). If the child\npluck the red species, its father will perish, or if the white, then the\nmother will die. It is very unlucky to bring pieces of the spindle-tree\ninto the house, hence it is the Death-alder (Bck.); but still more\ncommonly this superstition is attached to the flowers of the hawthorn,\nand further, in some districts to the snowdrop (Shr. Stf. Der. Wor.\nSus.). When a school-fellow of mine died of typhoid fever, the lady\nPrincipal of the boarding-school wrote to my parents, charging them with\nbeing the authors of the calamity, in that they had a short time before\nsent me a box of snowdrops. If parsley is once sown in a garden, there\nit must stay, to transplant it would be fatal to some member of the\nhousehold. If fruit trees blossom out of season it is a token of death:\n\n    A bloom upon the apple-tree when the apples are ripe\n    Is a sure termination to somebody\u2019s life.\n\nThe failure of a crop of ash-keys is said to portend a death in the\nroyal family within the year. Tradition tells that there were no\nash-keys in the year in which King Charles was beheaded.\n\n[Sidenote: _Magpie Rhymes_\n           _Superstitions concerning Evil Influence of Animals, Birds,\n              and Insects_\n           _Popular Sayings and Beliefs as to Good and Ill-luck_\n           _Lucky and Unlucky Actions_]\n\nThe magpie is always an ominous bird. Seen singly, it is everywhere\ntaken as a sign of evil, but the significance of two or more varies in\ndifferent parts of the country. The commonest version of the magpie\nrhyme is: One for sorrow; Two for mirth; Three for a wedding; Four\nfor a birth. Other versions are: Yan is sorrow; Tweea is mirth; Three\nis weddin\u2019; Fower is birth; Five is silver; Six is gold; Sebben is a\nsecret, nivver to be told (n.Cy.). Yen\u2019s sorry; Twee\u2019s morry; Three\u2019s\na wedding; Fower\u2019s deeth; Five\u2019s hivin\u2019; Six is hell; And Sivin\u2019s the\ndeel\u2019s aan sel (Nhb.). One, sign of anger; Two, sign o\u2019 muth; Dree,\nsign o\u2019 wedding-day; Vower, sign o\u2019 death; Vive, sign o\u2019 zorrow; Zix,\nsign o\u2019 joy; Zebm, sign o\u2019 maid; An\u2019 eight, sign o\u2019 boy (w.Som.). To\navert these indications you may use one of the following charms: raise\nthe hat in salutation; make a cross with your foot on the ground, or as\nmany crosses as there are magpies; wet the forefinger with spittle, and\ntherewith make the sign of the cross on your shoe; make the same sign\nby crossing the thumbs; spit on the ground three times, and say: Devil,\ndevil, I defy thee! Magpie, magpie, I go by thee! If a shrew-mouse runs\nover your foot, it portends ill-luck, sometimes the coming ill-luck\nis defined as paralysis of the foot. In Sussex the country people\nhave an idea that the shrew-mouse is unable to cross a path which has\nbeen trodden by man. Whenever it attempts to do so it is said to be\nimmediately struck dead, and hence the number of shrew-mice which may\nbe found lying dead in lanes or on field footpaths. If a hare crosses\nthe path of a woman with child, she must instantly stoop down and\ntear her shift, or the child will have a hare-lip, or _\u2019ar-shotten_\nlip, as it is called (Shr.). This superstition is no doubt connected\nwith the old belief that a witch often took the form of a hare. They\nnever dow [prosper] that strange dogs follow, is a Yorkshire saying.\nIt is very unlucky to drive away a black cat, if a stray one should\ncome into the house. An Oxford landlady told us quite recently that\nshe had driven away a black cat from her door shortly after she was\nmarried, some twelve years previously, and since then she had \u2018buried\ntwenty-three relations\u2019! It is unlucky when moving house to transport\nthe cat; it is also unlucky to allow a cat to die in the house, hence\nwhen it begins to be ill, it is better to drown it. It is unlucky to\nkeep a kitten born in May, for: May chets Bad luck begets. In the North\na May cat is supposed to suck the breath of the baby in the cradle,\nif opportunity offers; while in some south-western districts it is\nsaid to bring adders and _varmints_ into the house. Goslings hatched\nin May will not bring gain to the owner; and it is an evil month for\nmarriage. Scotch people especially, even among the well-educated, have\na strong prejudice against marrying in May. Marry in May, You\u2019ll rue\nit for aye, is a Devonshire saying. There is an old rhyme against\nshort-coating babies in May: Tuck babies in May, You\u2019ll tuck them\naway, but this is perhaps merely a health warning, parallel to: Don\u2019t\ncast a clout Till May is out, based on the uncertain temperature of\nthe month of May. It is very unlucky to kill a swallow, a robin, or\na wren, and even to take their eggs is a sacrilegious act certain to\nbring ill-luck, for: The Robin and the Wren Are God Almighty\u2019s cock\nand hen. The Martin and the Swallow Are God Almighty\u2019s scholars. Other\nversions of this rhyme are: Martins and swallows Are God\u2019s teachers\nand scholars. Robins and wrens Are God\u2019s chickens and hens. Those who\nkill a robin or a wren Will never prosper, boy or man. Swallows and\nmartins bring luck and prosperity under the roof around which they\nbuild, and hence it is a bad sign if they forsake a house where they\nhave been accustomed to build, cp. \u2018Though useless to us, and rather of\nmolestation, we commonly refrain from killing swallows, and esteem it\nunlucky to destroy them: whether herein there be not a Pagan relick,\nwe have some reason to doubt. For we read in \u00c6lian, that these birds\nwere sacred unto the Penates or household gods of the ancients, and\ntherefore were preserved,\u2019 _Vulgar Errors_, Bk. V, Chap. XXIV. It is\nalso unlucky to kill a ladybird, God Almighty\u2019s colly-cow (Hmp.); or to\nkill a spider. If you wish to live and thrive Let the spider run alive,\nis a current Berkshire rhyme. The little red spider, when found, should\nbe put in the pocket, for it means money. Spiders\u2019 webs sometimes\nescape destruction through a belief that such a web concealed our Lord\nas He lay in the manger from the messengers of Herod. The Sun-beetle\nis God\u2019s horse (Cum.), and like the Rainy clock, or Thunder clock\n(Cum. Wm.), is supposed to cause terrible storms if it be killed. It\nis very unlucky to bid a price for an animal, such as a cow, pig, or\nhorse, when it is not for sale, for if this is done the animal is sure\nto die. To covet another man\u2019s beast is to _heart-eat_ (Lan. Yks.) it,\nand an animal so coveted will not prosper. It is unlucky to sell bees,\nor to hive a swarm after nightfall. To kill a pig when the moon is\nwaning means ill-luck with the bacon, it is sure to shrink in the pot.\nSome say it will not take the salt, and cannot therefore be cured. Nor\nmust cider be made at such times, else the apples when gathered will\n_shrump up_, and the cider will turn sour. It is unlucky to look into\nan owl\u2019s nest. Once upon a time a foolhardy person ventured to do so,\nand in consequence he became melancholy, and _destroyed hissell_. It\nis important to give a hen an odd number of eggs to sit on, if this is\nnot done, most of the eggs, if not all of them, will be addled. The\nregulation number is thirteen. It is very unlucky to spill salt, or to\nhelp another to salt, or to break a salt-cellar, though the misfortune\nmay be averted by throwing a pinch of salt over the left shoulder.\nShe that pricks bread with fork or knife Will never be happy maid or\nwife (Shr.), the thing must be done with a skewer. It is unlucky to\nhang a picture over a door. When you have set out on any business, or\nstarted on a journey, it is very unlucky to turn back and re-enter\nthe house, but if it is absolutely necessary to return, the evil may\nbe counteracted by sitting down on a chair before starting again.\nSome say even to look back is unlucky, and in this case they connect\nthe superstition with the fate of Lot\u2019s wife. Pick up pins, pick up\nsorrow, is a saying which is contradicted by other versions such as:\nSee a pin and pick it up, All the day you\u2019ll have good luck; and: See\na pin and let it lie, You\u2019ll want a pin before you die. Mend your\nclothes upon your back, Sure you are to come to wrack. It is unlucky\nto use elder-wood for lighting a fire; to burn bones, or evergreens;\nto decorate a house with peacock\u2019s feathers; to bring the eggs of any\nwild bird into the house. When a child\u2019s tooth comes out, it must be\ndropped into the fire, and the following rhyme repeated, or the child\nwill have to seek its tooth after death: Fire, fire, tak\u2019 a beean, An\u2019\nsend oor Johnny a good teeath ageean (e.Yks.); or a little salt must\nbe placed on the tooth, which is then carefully put into the fire with\nthe words: Fire, fire, burn beean, God sen\u2019 my tiuth ageean (Lakel.).\nAnother idea is that unless the tooth is burned, the one which grows\nin its place will prove a dog\u2019s tooth. If a baby\u2019s first tooth appears\nin the upper jaw, it is a bad sign, it may mean that the child will\ndie in infancy. The bairn at cuts its teeth abeen, \u2019Ill nivver see\nits mairidge sheen, is an old Scotch saying. Similarly, if the teeth\ngrow with irregular spaces between them, the child will not be a long\nliver: If a bairn teeathes odd, It\u2019ll seean gan to God (e.Yks.). But\na gap between the two front teeth wide enough to pass a sovereign\nthrough, is a sign of luck and wealth. It is unlucky to weigh a child,\nor to let it see its face in the glass before it is a year old; or to\ncall it before baptism by the name you mean to give it. If an engaged\ncouple have undertaken to be godparents to a child, it is unlucky for\nthem both to stand at the font together, it would presage a parting\nwithin three months. A local instance of this came to my knowledge less\nthan six months ago. The difficulty was solved by the godmother taking\nher place in a pew at a little distance from the rest of the party\nassembled round the font. In Cornwall they say: first at the font,\nnever at the altar. It is unlucky to sing early in the morning: If you\nsing afore bite You\u2019ll cry before night; to see the new moon for the\nfirst time through a window; to have the Bishop\u2019s left hand on your\nhead at confirmation. If you enter another person\u2019s house with your\nleft foot foremost, you draw down evil on the inhabitants. A new broom\nshould sweep something into the house before it is used in the contrary\ndirection, otherwise you sweep good luck away from your threshold. Some\npeople hold that you must never sweep the dust out of doors, but always\ninto the fire, for fear lest you sweep the blessing out (Shr.). Friday\nis proverbially an unlucky day everywhere. Friday\u2019s a day as\u2019ll have\nhis trick The fairest or foulest day o\u2019 the wik (Shr.), cp. \u2018Selde is\nthe Fryday al the wyke i-like,\u2019 Chaucer, _Knightes Tale_, l. 681. It\nis very unlucky to start out on a journey; to remove from one house to\nanother; to enter upon a new service; or to set a hen on a Friday, but\nspecially unlucky is it to begin new undertakings on Good Friday. If\nclothes are washed that day some member of the family will die before\nthe year is out. A Yorkshire superstition holds that if clothes are\nhung out to dry that day they will be taken in spotted with blood. On\nthe other hand, it is esteemed lucky to plant potatoes, and to sow all\nkinds of garden seeds on Good Friday. Beans and peas, for instance,\nsown on this day yield better crops than they would if sown any other\nday. Moreover, it is the best day in all the year to begin weaning\nbabies. In parts of Devonshire it is thought lucky to break pottery\non Good Friday, because then the points of every sherd are supposed\nto pierce the body of Judas Iscariot. If a bunch of quaking grass,\ncalled maidenhair (Nrf.), is brought into the house it is sure to bring\nill-luck; trouble will also ensue if you cut down the house-leek, the\n_sungreen_ (Sus.), which grows on walls and roofs. If you should happen\nto dig up a mandrake, you must quickly burn it, for anybody that looks\nat it will at once go blind. To pick flowers before they are full-blown\ncauses a _pouk_ (Wor.) or sty in the eye. Marsh-marigolds are called\n_drunkards_ (Dev. Wil.) because if you pick them, or even look long\nat them, you will take to drink. Poppies are called _ear-aches_ (Der.\nNot.) because if gathered and put to the ear, a violent attack of\near-ache will be the result. In parts of Yorkshire the poppy is known\nby the name of _blindy-buff_, because if you hold a poppy to your\neyes it will blind you. North-country children deem it unlucky to\ngather the flowers of the _cuckoo-spit_, the Lady\u2019s smock, _Cardamine\npratensis_. To bring two or three primroses into the house of an owner\nof poultry in early spring, before any chickens are hatched, means\nbad luck to the sittings of eggs; but if the number of primroses is\nthirteen or upwards, there is nothing to fear. Old Manx people held a\nlike superstition about daffodils, believing it to be unlucky to bring\nthem into the house before the goslings were hatched. This connexion\nwith geese probably accounts for the Manx name for the daffodil,\n_Lus-ny-guiy_, the goose-leek. It is a sign of a parting if two bells\nring together in a house; if a loaf parts in two when it is being cut;\nif a cake has a hollow cavity in the centre. To give a knife, a pair\nof scissors, or a pin of any sort to a friend will cut love, unless\nsome coin is received in exchange. To stir the tea in the tea-pot is\nto stir up strife. Other signs of a coming quarrel between friends\nare: to cross knives; to put the poker and tongs on the same side\nof the fireplace; to put a pair of boots on the table, but here the\nquarrel may be averted if some one immediately puts the boots under the\ntable; to pass your friend on the stairs. If two persons kindle a fire\ntogether; or dip their hands into the same basin of water; or together\nwipe their hands on the same towel, they will inevitably quarrel. In\nthe case of the washing of hands, the sign of the cross made over or in\nthe water will prevent the quarrel.\n\n[Sidenote: _Lucky and Unlucky Signs_]\n\nWhen a woman\u2019s hair grows in a low point on the forehead, it is\nsupposed to presage widowhood, and is called a _widow\u2019s peak_ (n.Cy.),\nor _widow\u2019s lock_ (War.). If your eyebrows meet across the nose, You\u2019ll\nnever live to wear your wedding-clothes, is a rhyme belonging to the\nMidlands, but elsewhere this peculiarity is deemed a favourable omen.\nIn some Yorkshire districts the idea is that a person so marked will\nnever know trouble. A white speck on the finger-nails is called a\n_gift_ (in gen. dial. use), and predicts certain events. A _gift_ on\nthe thumb indicates a present; on the forefinger a friend or lover; on\nthe middle finger a foe; on the fourth finger a visit to pay; on the\nlittle finger a journey to go. A gift on the thumb is seer ti cum, Bud\nyan on the finger is seer ti linger (e.Yks.). An irritation or tickling\nin the nose is a sign that a visitor is coming. Sneeze on a Monday, you\nsneeze for danger; Sneeze on a Tuesday, you kiss a stranger; Sneeze\non a Wednesday, you sneeze for a letter; Sneeze on a Thursday, for\nsomething better; Sneeze on a Friday, you sneeze for sorrow; Sneeze on\na Saturday, your sweetheart to-morrow; Sneeze on a Sunday, your safety\nseek, The Devil will have you the whole of the week (Lan.). A spark\nin the wick of a candle is supposed to signify the speedy arrival of\na letter to the person to whom it points. If you kill a _miller_ [a\nmoth] while it is flying round a lighted lamp, you\u2019ll get a letter\nnext day (Hmp.). A knot on the wick of a candle, which, when burned,\nbecomes large and red, is termed a stranger (Lin. Sus.), cp. \u2018But of\nlower consideration is the common foretelling of strangers, from the\nfungous parcels about the wicks of candles; which only signifieth a\nmoist and pluvious air about them, hindering the avolation of the light\nand favillous particles; whereupon they are forced to settle upon the\nsnast,\u2019 _Vulgar Errors_, Bk. V, Chap. XXIV. The same name is given to a\nflake or film of soot hanging on the bar of a grate (n.Cy. War. Wil.);\nand to a small piece of tea-leaf floating in tea (Sc. Lin. War. Wil.\nSom. Cor.), both supposed to foretell the advent of a stranger. If a\nbumble-bee comes into the house, it too is a sign of an approaching\nstranger. To meet a load of hay is a sure token of a surprise, trivial\nor otherwise.\n\n[Sidenote: _Lucky Omens_\n           _How to ensure Good Luck_]\n\nIt is considered lucky to be born on a Sunday; to have _lucken-toes_\n(Sc.), that is toes joined by a web or film; to have a mole on the\nneck, though some say if it is on the back of the neck it is a sign\nthat you will be hanged. If you\u2019ve a mole above your chin, You\u2019ll\nnever be beholden to any of your kin (Shr.); but a mole on the side of\nthe nose is a sign that the Devil has marked you for his own (Lan.).\nA dimple in your cheek, Your living to seek; A dimple in your chin,\nYou\u2019ll have your living brought in (Yks.). It is a lucky omen to put\non any article of clothing the wrong side out, but it must be done\naccidentally, and not changed during that day. Any one making a first\nappearance in new clothes should be pinched by a friend to ensure\ngood luck: Pinch you for your new dress (Shr.). My grandmother always\nwished the possessor: Health to wear it, Strength to tear it, And money\nto buy another, a formula still repeated in Northumberland, if not\nelsewhere. It is lucky to put the left stocking on first; to stumble\non ascending stairs, steps, or ladders; to find a flint arrow-head,\nknown as a _thunder-bolt_ (Dev.); to find nine peas in a pod; to find\na four-leaved clover; to find an even-ash, that is an ash-leaf with an\neven number of leaflets. When found, it should be put in the bosom,\nor worn in the hat, for luck. It is lucky to meet a flock of sheep on\nthe highway when you are making a journey. Good luck for a grey horse\n(w.Yks.) is a common expression of children, accompanied by the act of\nspitting over their little finger, at the sight of a grey horse, an\naction which is supposed to bring good luck. In parts of Lincolnshire\nthey spit for a white horse, in anticipation of a present to come. It\nis a sign of good luck if a _cuddy_ [wren] or _cutty_ builds in your\nhayrick (Dor.); if rooks build near the house; if a bird drops upon\nyou, especially if this should happen on Easter Day; if a spider crawls\nover you, or falls upon your face from the ceiling. If a Cornish miner\nshould meet a snail as he is on the way to the mine, he would drop\nbefore it a crumb from his dinner, or a bit of grease from his candle,\nto ensure good luck. To find a toad in the tin-mine is an augury of\ngood luck to the miner. If when you hear the cuckoo for the first time\nyou turn a penny over in your pocket, you will never be without one all\nthe year. Some say that if when you first hear the cuckoo the sounds\nproceed from the right hand, it signifies that you will be prosperous,\nbut if from the left, ill-luck is before you. If the first lamb that\nyou see in spring has its head towards you, it is an omen of good luck\nfor the whole year, but if the tail is towards you, misfortune will be\nyour lot. According to an old Scotch proverb \u2018dirt\u2019s luck\u2019, so that in\nmoving from one house to another it is unlucky to get possession of a\nclean house, swept and garnished by the outgoing tenant. An old usage\nfor bringing luck to a new house was for the incoming tenant to go\ninto every room bearing in his hands a loaf and a plate of salt. This\nwas termed the _house-handsel_ (n.Yks.). In the North-country dialects\n_handsel_ is the name for a gift conferred at a particular season,\nor on commencement of a new undertaking, to confer luck. The gift of\na coin, for instance, to the wearer of a new suit of clothes makes\nthe suit lucky. Sometimes money is returned for luck by the seller to\nthe purchaser, and is called the _turn-again_ (n.Lin.), _luck-penny_\n(Sc. n.Cy. Nhp. War.), or _luck-brass_ (Yks.). Thus what is given back\nto the buyer of a pig may be termed _penny-pig-luck_. The customary\npayments in Lincolnshire were one shilling per head for a beast,\nsixpence for a calf and a pig, two shillings per score for sheep above\na year old, one shilling per score for lambs; for horses varying sums\naccording to their value. As late as 1898, Lincolnshire auctioneers\nwere allowing _luck-money_ to purchasers, at the rate of one shilling\nper head on cattle, and a penny per head on sheep and pigs.\n\n[Sidenote: _Protection against Ill-luck_]\n\nThe dried tip of a calf\u2019s tongue is called a _lucky-bit_ (Nhp.) and is\nworn in the pocket, partly as a protection against danger, but chiefly\nbecause it is supposed that the pocket containing it will never be\nwithout money. The coracoid bone of a fowl carried in purse or pocket is\nbelieved to bring money-fortune, whence the name _lucky-bone_ (Chs.\nShr.). This name is also given to a small bone taken from the head of a\nsheep (Nhb. Yks. Lan. Nhp.), worn about the person to produce good luck.\nIts form is that of a T cross, whence may perhaps have originated the\npeculiar sanctity in which it is held. A _lucky-hole_ (Oxf. Brks.) is a\nhole bored in a wayside stone or pillar, to blow through which is\nconsidered to ensure good luck. A stone or pebble with a natural hole\nthrough it is commonly called a _lucky-stone_. In Dorsetshire the finder\nof such a stone picked it up, spat upon it, and then threw it backward\nover his head, accompanying the action with the words: Lucky-stone!\nLucky-stone! go over my head, And bring me some good luck before I go to\nbed. A hairy caterpillar, called a Tommy Tailor (Yks.), may also be\nthrown over the head for luck. A black snail seized by the horns and\ntossed over the left shoulder brings good luck to the performer of the\naction. If it is done by a person who has within the last three days\nbecome engaged to be married, the course of true love will run\nconsiderably more smoothly than would otherwise have been the case. If a\nperson is setting out on a journey, one of the family sometimes turns\nthe fire-tongs for luck (Nhb.). To spit on a stone, and then throw it\naway, is another means of ensuring a prosperous journey. To carry a\nbadger\u2019s tooth in the pocket is a good thing to do, for it brings luck\nat cards (Dev.). To kill a toad is said to make bees swarm; and to burn\nan old shoe is a charm to help goslings to leave the shell at hatching\ntime.\n\n[Sidenote: _A Story of Noah_]\n\nThe following are a few miscellaneous legends, superstitions, and\npopular beliefs: According to an old belief in Yorkshire, when a pot is\ntaken off the hooks or _kelps_ hanging in the chimney over the fire,\ncare must be taken to stop the vibration of the chain as soon as\npossible, for whilst it is in motion the Virgin weeps. From Scotland\ncomes the explanation of the black spots on each shoulder of the\nhaddock: they are the marks left by the finger and thumb of St. Peter\nwhen he opened the fish\u2019s mouth to take out the piece of money, v. _St.\nMatt._ xvii. 27. The dark marks across the shoulders of a donkey are\nsaid to be the sign of the cross imprinted in remembrance of Christ\u2019s\ntriumphal entry into Jerusalem (Shr. Oxf.). A Berkshire folklorist\nrelates the following curious legend which explains why a dog\u2019s nose and\na woman\u2019s elbow are always cold, where there is good health: \u2018In the\ndays of the flood the Ark sprung a small leak, and Noah, who had\nforgotten to bring carpenter\u2019s tools on board with him, was at his wits\u2019\nend how to act. His faithful dog had followed him to the place where the\nleak was, and stood watching the influx of water. In his trouble Noah\nseized the dog and crammed his nose into the leak. This stopped it, but\nin a few moments Noah perceived that the dog must die if kept in this\nposition any longer. By this time Noah\u2019s wife had come up and was\nstanding by his side watching what was taking place. Noah thereupon\nreleased the dog, and taking his wife\u2019s arm stuffed her elbow into the\ncrack. The danger was thus averted, but a dog\u2019s nose and a woman\u2019s elbow\nwill remain cold as long as the world lasts.\u2019 _Glossary of Brks. Words_,\n&c., Lowsley, 1888.\n\n[Sidenote: _Legendary Natural History_\n           _Story of St. Catherine of Ledbury_]\n\nAmong the remnants of legendary natural history is the idea that an\nadder can never die till sunset. Even if it be cut to pieces, the bits\nwill retain their vitality till the sun goes down. It is believed\nof the hedgehog that he sucks the milk from cows; and that he rolls\nhimself on the apples in the orchard, or the crab-apples fallen in\nthe copses, and carries them off sticking on his spines. You\u2019ve yer\nback up to-daay like a peggy-otchin goin\u2019 a-crabbin\u2019 is a contemptuous\nremark made to an ill-natured person (Lin.). Puck, or Puckeridge (Sus.\nHmp.), is a name of the night-jar, also applied to a fatal distemper in\ncalves, supposed to be caused by the attacks of night-jars. A certain\nred beetle, _Telephorus lividus_, is called Sucky-blood (Cum.), from\na local belief that it lives by sucking the blood of cattle. The\nGlastonbury thorn, or Holy thorn (War.), possesses a curious legendary\nhistory. Tradition says that Joseph of Arimathaea came to England, and\nvisited Glastonbury. Being weary after climbing the hill, he halted,\nleaning on his staff to rest. The stick sank into the soft ground by\nthe wayside, and took root, and grew, and became the famous thorn-tree\nwhich is said to blossom on Christmas Day. Christ\u2019s cross is supposed\nto have been made of the wood of the aspen, and hence the leaves have\ncontinued to tremble ever since. The berries of the mountain-ash are\ncalled _cock-drink_, or _cock-drunks_ (Lakel.), because they are\nreputed to possess the property of intoxicating fowls. The fungus,\n_Nostoc commune_, a kind of white jelly often found in poor pastures,\nis termed: Star-falling (Nhp.), Star-shot (Lin. Nhp.), Star-slubber\n(Yks. Lan.), Star-slutch (Chs.), from a belief that it has fallen\nfrom the stars. The fossil bones of the saurians, found in northern\nYorkshire, are called Fallen angels\u2019 bones, being supposed to belong\nto the angels who were cast out of heaven for their rebellion. The\nfossilized remains of elephants\u2019 teeth were said to be Giants\u2019 teeth\n(n.Yks.). Up and down the brooks and streamlets in the dingles round\nabout my old home in Herefordshire could be found stones bearing a\ngrooved mark resembling the print of a horseshoe, beside others marked\nas with the oval ring of a woman\u2019s patten. Geologists may have other\nexplanatory theories, but this is the local legend, and the evidences\nfor its veracity anybody may see. Once upon a time there lived a holy\nlady of some renown, called St. Catherine of Ledbury. One day a mare\nand a foal belonging to her were discovered to be missing. There was\nno doubt they had been stolen. So the saint betook herself to prayer,\nbeseeching that the thief might be traced, and that she might recover\nher property. But the thief had anticipated the probability of a\nsearch, and had chosen the brook courses as being rocky and unlikely\nto retain footprints. Howbeit, in answer to the saint\u2019s prayers the\nrocks did retain the marks, and there they are to this day, the\nlarger footprints of the mare, the smaller ones of the foal, and the\npatten-marks of the old woman who stole them away.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XIV\n\nCHARMS AND MEDICAL LORE\n\n\nCharms for warding off unseen harm and danger, and for curing bodily\nills were of course much more numerous, and more generally accredited in\nthe early decades of last century than they are to-day. But even now\nsome still survive, like the horseshoe, which people still pick up, and\nhang over doors and chimney-pieces \u2018for luck\u2019, unconscious of the fact\nthat they are thus preserving an old superstitious device for\ncounteracting the power of witches. Another curious survival is the\nplacing of the poker against the top bar of the grate. People who do it\ntell you in all seriousness that it draws the fire up by creating a\ndraught. It really is an ancient charm against witches, as Dr. Johnson\nexplained to Boswell: \u2018\u201cWhy, Sir, do people play this trick which I\nobserve now, when I look at your grate, putting the shovel against it to\nmake the fire burn?\u201d Johnson. \u201cThey play the trick, but it does not make\nthe fire burn. _There_ is a better (setting the poker perpendicularly up\nat right angles with the grate). In days of superstition they thought,\nas it made a cross with the bars, it would drive away the witch.\u201d\u2019 _Life\nof Dr. Johnson_, Vol. II, p. 376. Again, many educated people habitually\n\u2018touch wood\u2019 if they have given vent to some expression of satisfaction\nover their own good health or fortune, or that of any member of their\nfamily. They say with a laugh, \u2018I suppose I must touch wood,\u2019 and do it\nwith no conscious thought of averting the evil eye, but if the trick\nwere omitted, the speaker would probably feel uncomfortable afterwards.\n\n[Sidenote: _Devices to drive away Witches_]\n\nThe various devices for keeping off witches, and for defeating their\ncraft can only here be illustrated by a few instances. To drive away\nwitches by means of fire was part of the ceremony of _saining_ once\npractised in Scotland at the birth of a child. A fir-candle was\nlighted and carried three times round the bed, or if this could not\nbe done, it was whirled three times round the heads of the mother and\nchild; a Bible and bread and cheese were placed under the pillow, and\nthe following words were repeated: May the Almichty debar a\u2019 ill fae\nthis umman, an be aboot ir an bless ir an ir bairn. In the Shetland\nIslands when a woman suspected of witchcraft entered a house, the\ninmates--on her leaving--would throw a firebrand after her, at the\nsame time saying: Twee-tee-see-de, doo ill-vam\u2019d trooker. If ther\u2019s\na witch onywhe\u00e4re aboot, an ye\u2019r scar\u2019d at she\u2019ll oherlook ye, you\nmun go\u00e4 an pull a dook o\u2019 thack [handful of thatch] oot\u2019n her hoose\neavins, an bo\u2019n it, then she can\u2019t do noht to ye (Lin.). A red-hot iron\nthrust into the cream in the churn, or into the fermenting beer in the\nbrewing-vat expelled the witch that was frustrating the labours of the\ndairy-maid, or the brewer. In 1882 a man living in Shropshire found in\na crevice in one of the joists of his kitchen chimney a folded paper,\nsealed with red wax, containing these words: \u2018I charge all witches and\nghosts to depart from this house, in the great name of Jehovah and\nAlpha and Omega.\u2019 A well-known plan for working mischief, practised\nby malevolent persons, was to make a small figure in wax, and then\npierce it with innumerable pins. This was supposed to give the victim\nsevere stabbing pains in the limbs. To reverse this injury the victim\nmight hang in his chimney a bullock\u2019s heart stuck with pins (Dev.). In\nthe Somerset County Museum at Taunton may be seen pigs\u2019 hearts full\nof pins. If a pig died owing to the _overlooking_ of some malignant\nwitch, it seems to have been a custom to take its heart, pierce it\nwith as many pins and thorns as it would hold, and then hang it in the\nchimney, in the belief that as the pig\u2019s heart dried up and withered,\nso would that of the evil person who had bewitched the pig. I remember,\nhardly more than twenty years ago, being told of a man then living near\nBanbury, who earned a livelihood by making little images to be stuck\nwith pins for witchcraft purposes. To crook the thumb (n.Cy.), that is,\nto double the thumb within the hand, is a charm against witchcraft; so\nalso is the use of the expression: It\u2019s Wednesday all the world over\n(Sc.). A bunch of ash-keys carried in the hand, or the left stocking\nworn wrong-side out, were supposed to be good safeguards against the\npower of witchcraft, but the favourite charms were horseshoes, silver,\nspittle, and the sign of the cross. A witch who had turned herself\ninto a hare, for instance, could only be hit by a crooked sixpence, or\na silver bullet. In some districts it was customary to put a silver\ncoin, or a silver spoon into the churn when the butter would not come.\nA newly-calved cow was formerly milked for the first time after calving\nover a _crossie-croon shilling_ (Bnff.) to protect her from the evil\neye, a talisman which would seem to combine the efficacy both of silver\nand of the sign of the cross. Many old brewers used to make with the\nfinger the sign of the cross on the surface of the malt in process of\nfermentation; and the same sign is still made on the top of the dough\nin the kneading-tub, though the origin of the custom may be unknown\nto those who continue it in practice. Herrick has put this charm into\nrhyme in his _Hesperides_:\n\n    This I\u2019ll tell ye by the way,\n    Maidens, when ye leavens lay,\n    Cross your dough, and your dispatch\n    Will be better for your batch.\n\nA writer in _Longman\u2019s Magazine_ in the year 1898 records, as then\nextant, a west-country custom of placing a neatly cut cross of birch\nwood over cottage doors, on the eve of the 1st of May, to keep off the\nwitches. The common practice amongst market-women and hawkers of\nspitting for luck on the first coin received in the day, is originally a\nprecautionary charm against witchcraft. It used to be said in\nSomersetshire: Nif you do meet wi\u2019 anybody wi\u2019 a north eye, spat dree\ntimes. To spit will avert the ill-luck consequent on passing under a\nladder. To make the sign of the cross with spittle on the sole of the\nshoe was supposed to cure the sensation of \u2018pins and needles\u2019 in the\nfoot. We have already noticed the action of spitting in connexion with\nthe ill-omened appearance of magpies.\n\n[Sidenote: _Protection against Witchcraft_]\n\nWhilst silver was considered to be the efficacious metal for missiles\nused against witches, iron and steel were held good for protective\ncharms. In Lincolnshire it was formerly the custom to leave under the\nflag-stone at the entrance of an outer door a hollow place, which was\nfilled with broken bits of iron, intended to keep off witches. It was\nnecessary to protect the stable as well as the house, and this was\nsometimes done by hanging up implements made of steel or iron, as was\ncustomary in the time of Herrick, cp. _Charm for Stables, Hesperides_,\n1648:\n\n    Hang up hooks and shears to scare\n    Hence the hag that rides the mare,\n    Till they be all over wet\n    With the mire and the sweat;\n    This observed, the manes shall be\n    Of your horses all knot-free.\n\n[Sidenote: _The Horseshoe as a Talisman_]\n\nMore commonly, however, the horseshoe was the chosen talisman. In some\ndistricts it was held that the horseshoe was only efficacious if\nfastened up with the ends upwards; but this seems not to have been an\ninvariable rule. Many people to-day, who firmly believe that to find a\nhorseshoe is lucky, will tell you that the luck will disappear into the\nground if the shoe is hung with the ends pointing downwards; even\npositive ill-luck may thereby be drawn upon the house. Others again lay\nno stress on the method of preserving the charm. I recently questioned\ntwo natives of Berkshire on this subject, and while one set firm faith\nin the importance of fastening the shoe-ends upwards, the other was\nquite content to see the charm \u2018just slung up on a nail\u2019. Even better\nthan the horseshoe as a charm to keep the witches out of the stable was\nthe _adder-stone_ (Sc. n.Cy.), a perforated stone, so called because the\nperforation was supposed to be made by the sting of an adder;\n_hag-stone_ (Lan.); _holed-_ (Nhb.), or _holey-stone_ (n.Cy.), cp. \u2018to\nprevent the _ephialtes_ or night-mare, we hang up an hollow-stone in\nour stables,\u2019 _Vulgar Errors_, Book V, Chap. XXIV. These holed stones\nlikewise protected the animals from diseases and the evil eye, but they\nmust be found already perforated, else they had no efficacy. When in the\ncourse of time witches were forgotten, superstitious minds still\nsupposed these stones to have peculiar virtues in propitiating luck. As\n_lucky stones_, they were hung to the street door-key, for prosperity to\nthe house and its inmates, and we have already noted that, down to\nmodern times, anybody who picks one up considers it an omen of luck.\n\n[Sidenote: _Use of Plants as Charms_]\n\nCertain plants were reputed to be noisome to witches, and hence\neffective as charms. For example: _cow-grass_ (n.Cy.), the common purple\nclover; _dill_, the anet, for: Vervain and dill Hinder witches of their\nwill (Lin.), an old couplet found in Drayton; pimpernel; and\n_shady-night_ (Lin.) the nightshade, are all good for preventing\nwitchcraft. If a pig, for instance, had been bewitched, a collar made of\nnightshade, and put round the neck of the sufferer, would at once cure\nit. A _St. John\u2019s nut_ (Sc.), that is two nuts growing together on the\nsame stalk, was formerly supposed to be a deadly missile against\nwitches. But most potent of all was the mountain ash, the _quicken_ or\n_wicken_ (in gen. dial. use), or _rowan-tree_ (Sc. Irel. n.Cy.), for\nwitches, it was said, have no power where there is rowan-tree wood.\nHence twigs of this tree were fastened over doors of houses; they were\ntied to the horns of cattle, and affixed to their stalls; cowherds and\ncarters had goads and whipstocks of quicken-wood, to counteract the\nwitch who could bring the team to a standstill, whence the old sayings:\nWoe to the lad Without a rowan-tree gad, and: If your whipstock\u2019s made\nof rown You may ride through any town. The churn-staff likewise was made\nof this wood lest the cream might be bewitched and no butter be\nforthcoming. Sprigs were nailed to the leaven-kits to keep the witches\nout of the dough; and pieces of the protective tree were carried in the\nbosom, or worn in the pocket as a sure defence against all forms of\nwitchcraft.\n\nThe house-leek used to be planted on the thatched roofs of cottages\nunder the belief that it was a preservative against thunder and\nlightning, and at the present time it is still cherished as bringing\ngood luck to the house upon the roof of which it grows. A piece of\nhawthorn cut on Holy Thursday protects a house from lightning, because:\nUnder a thorn Our Saviour was born (Shr.). The slough of an adder hung\non the rafters is said to protect a house from fire (Cor.). Small tufts\nof dried seaweed, known as Lady\u2019s Trees (Dev. Cor.), were certainly as\nlate as the year 1891 to be seen on cottage chimney-pieces in fishing\nvillages as a charm against fire.\n\n[Sidenote: _Remedies for curing Diseases_\n           _Violent Remedies_]\n\nBy reason of the fact that many complaints were supposed to be due to\nthe malice of pixies, or witches, and to the _overlooking_ of malignant\npersons, we find many of the remedies for curing diseases are closely\nconnected with the foregoing charms against witchcraft. For example,\na flint arrow-head was taken to be an _elf-shot_; if then a sick cow\nwas thought to have been _elf-shotten_ with one of these missiles,\nthe proper remedy was to touch her with the arrow-head, and then make\nher drink water in which it had been dipped. The same idea no doubt\nunderlies the following remedy for _rewmatiz_: Take a thunderbolt,\nboil for some hours, and then dispense the water to the diseased.\nFurther, we find the _quicken-wood_ worn in the pocket as a charm\nagainst rheumatism (Cor.); and a double nut for preventing toothache\n(Shr.). Even among the home-made herb medicines are some which partake\nof the nature of a charm. The following, for example, is a recipe for\nallaying a fever: Take a handful of dandelion, agrimony, verjuice, and\nrue; mix with powdered crab\u2019s eyes and claws, and some yarrow gathered\noff a grave. Boil for some hours, and administer when the moon is on\nthe wane. Neither more nor less than nine leaves of Adder\u2019s tongue,\n_Sagittaria sagittifolia_, must be picked to make the daily cupful\nof tea which is a good strengthening medicine. Similarly, nine must\nbe the number of frogs you must catch for making the frog-soup which\nwill cure whooping-cough. As, therefore, a hard and fast line cannot\nbe drawn between charms properly so called, and semi-magic remedies,\nperhaps the readiest way to get a clear survey of the various rustic\nmethods of treating diseases and other afflictions, will be to group\nthem all under the names of the different diseases. Although many\nof the superstitious remedies here to be quoted are now no longer\nin use amongst us, yet the ignorant superstition behind them is by\nno means dead, even in towns where on every side are doctors, and\nnurses, and chemists plying their trades according to the latest\nand most approved methods. The _Times_ of Feb. 24, 1911, commenting\non a Local Government Board Report, the material for which had been\nfurnished to the Department by Medical Officers of Health, quoted\nthe following statement in reference to Ireland: \u2018Disease-charmers\nand bone-setters are very prevalent, and cause much suffering and\ndeformity.\u2019 The _rag-wells_ of Northumberland and Yorkshire are said\nto be obsolete, but little more than five years ago there were still\nto be seen hung round a certain well in County Kerry, bits torn from\nthe clothes of people who believed that they had benefited from the\ncurative properties of the water. An instance of the old practice of\npassing a child suffering from rupture through the split trunk of a\ngrowing ash-tree was reported to me from Devonshire last summer. Not\nmany months ago my gardener\u2019s little girl on one occasion fell out of\nbed, and grazed her back against a chair; by way of a remedy, she was\ntold to wet her finger with spittle, and apply it to the wound. In\nOctober, 1910, a young friend of mine, then in lodgings in Liverpool,\nhad the misfortune to burn her hand. Her landlady--who held a post as\ncharwoman in a neighbouring church, and who, as such, received gifts of\nold church linen--offered to bind up the wound with a piece of an old\nchalice veil; and she subsequently attributed the quick healing of the\nburn to the efficacy of her \u2018holy linen\u2019. About five or six years ago,\nin a country vicarage in the Midlands, a girl I knew was nursing her\nbrother in the last stages of consumption. Replying to some questions\nof mine as to her duties as nurse, she told me that every day she\ncarried up from the kitchen two buckets filled with fresh spring-water,\nand placed them under the patient\u2019s bed, to ward off bed-sores, because\na lady friend, who \u2018really knew\u2019, had said that this was a sure\npreventive. These are only a few cases that have chanced to come within\nmy own knowledge, but no doubt numbers more could be found for the\nseeking.\n\n[Sidenote: _Phrases denoting State of Health_]\n\nBefore passing on to a list of ailments and their cures, it may be\ninteresting first to look at some typical words and phrases used by\ndialect-speakers in describing their state of health. It may be assumed\nas a general axiom that a woman never admits to being perfectly well. At\nmost, she makes a reluctant confession to good health by saying: I\u2019m\npretty middlin\u2019. This one word _middling_, by the aid of a preceding\nadverb, and by due adjustment of the speaker\u2019s tone, may be made to\nexpress almost any degree of health. _Middlin\u2019_, _amongst the middlins_,\nor _joost middlin\u2019_ implies a moderate state of health; _nobbut\nmiddlin\u2019_ means rather poorly; and _very middlin\u2019_, or _uncommon\nmiddlin\u2019_, means very ill: Sum daays ah\u2019s middlin\u2019, an uther sum as\nwaffy an\u2019 waake as owt (Yks.). Thoo nobbut lewks varry wawey this\nmooanin\u2019! What\u2019s matther wi tha? Ans. Whah, ah\u2019s nobbut middlin\u2019\n(e.Yks.). Oh, her idn on\u2019y very middlin\u2019, eens mid zay, her\u2019ve a-got the\nbrowntitus shockin\u2019 bad like.\n\nThe following are a few specimen remarks about health gathered from\nthe dialects: He\u2019s a man that enjoy werry bad health; I bant very well\nt\u00fc-day, this \u2019ot wuther mak\u2019th me veel uncommon wangary [limp] (Dev.);\nThankee, I baint no ways marchantable like s\u2019morning, I was a-tookt\nrampin\u2019 be-now in my inside (Som. Dev.); Ah feels weeak an\u2019 wanklin\u2019,\nah\u2019s that badly, whahl ah can hardlins tthraal mysen across t\u2019fleear\n(Yks.); He\u2019s sairly off on\u2019t (Yks.), i.e. he is very ill; Aye, ah\nthink ah\u2019s ommost gitten ti t\u2019far end (Yks.); Owd Jim Batley\u2019s varry\nowd nah, he\u2019s hung i\u2019 jimmers (w.Yks.), i.e. he is ready to fall to\npieces any moment; Poor owd John\u2019s gettin\u2019 mighty simple [feeble],\n\u2019e can \u2019ardly get alung (w.Cy.); I dawnt zim y\u00fc be up t\u00fc tha mark\nt\u00fc-day, Jack, y\u00fc l\u00fck\u2019th cruel wisht, like a \u2019apperd ov zoap arter a\n\u2019ard day\u2019s wash (Dev.); I be better in myself, Sir, but my poor leg\n\u2019ave got that swelth in um as I couldn\u2019t get um along to the top o\u2019 the\ntown, not if you was to crown m\u016d (Wor.); I fare to feel kind o\u2019 tired\nlike (Ess.); He wor badly, but is brave again now (in gen. dial. use);\nShe\u2019s charmin\u2019, thankee (sw.Cy.); He\u2019s mending, but he\u2019s not better yet\n(n.Cy. Not. Lin.), i.e. not quite recovered from illness; How is your\nwife, John, after her groaning? Ans. Finely, Sir, thankee (e.An.); Heaw\narto this mornin\u2019? Ans. Well, awm weantly [hearty], thank yo (Lan.). To\nhave a pain at the heart (Yks. Lan. e.An.) is to have the stomach-ache,\ncp. Fr. _avoir mal au c\u0153ur_; to be crippled with the pains (Sc. Nhb.)\nis to suffer from rheumatism. A liver complaint was described thus: Dr.\nBrown, he says to me, Mrs. Smith, he says, it\u2019s ovverharassment o\u2019 th\u2019\nliver at yer sufferin\u2019 from. But the doctor was not always called in to\ngive an elaborate diagnosis of the case, cp.:\n\n    What complaint had he, Betty?\n    Says hoo, aw caunt tell,\n    We ne\u2019er had no doctor\n    He deet of hissel.--Edwin Waugh.\n\n[Sidenote: _Homely Prescriptions_]\n\nFor maintaining good health and keeping the doctor out of the house,\nthere are in use certain homely prescriptions. For example: Ait a happle\navore gwain to bed, An\u2019 you\u2019ll make the doctor beg his bread (Dev.); or\nas the more popular version runs: An apple a day Keeps the doctor away.\nSometimes onion is substituted for apple, or, according to an Oxford\nversion, the apple should be eaten during the day, and an onion at\nnight. There is an old west-country proverb which bears further\ntestimony to the health-giving properties of the onion tribe: Eat leekes\nin Lide [March] and ramsins [wild garlic] in May, And all the year after\nphysitians may play. The term _kitchen physic_ (n.Cy. Lin. Som.), food,\ngood living, is found in early literature, cp. \u2018The country people use\nkitchen Physick, and common experience tells us that they live freest\nfrom all manner of infirmities that make least use of Apothecaries\nPhysick,\u2019 Burton, _Anatomy of Melancholy_, 1621. Her don\u2019t want no\ndoctorin\u2019, \u2019tis kitchen physic her\u2019s in want o\u2019 (Som.). For a trifling\nailment may be recommended: A haporth o\u2019 thole-weel [endure-well], an\u2019 a\npennorth o\u2019 niver-let-on-ye-hae-it (Irel.).\n\n[Sidenote: _Medicines for General Debility_]\n\nAmongst the medicines for general debility are: a decoction of\ndock-root, the common mallow, known as dock-root-tea (Wil. Hmp.),\nconsidered a great purifier of the blood; old-man-tea (Chs.), made from\nsouthernwood; bog-bean-tea (Lakel.), a grand thing fer takkin\u2019 fur off\nyer teeth, an\u2019 givin\u2019 ye a stomach; medicines made from feverfew;\ngill-tea (War.), a decoction of gill, i.e. ground ivy, heriff, and the\nyoung shoots of nettles, given to children as a spring medicine for nine\nsuccessive days, a very bitter and horrible stuff. It cannot, however,\nhave been so nasty as a mixture formerly known in Durham, called Dean\nand Chapter. This consisted of the remnants from every medicine bottle\nin the house, poured together, and well shaken, and then administered to\nthe patient whatever might be the nature of his complaint. A common\nironical saying used in recommending a dose of anything specially\nnauseous is: Sup, Simon, it\u2019s excellent broth!\n\nTo wash in May-dew was supposed to strengthen the joints and muscles,\nthe reason given being that the dew had in it all the \u2018nature\u2019 of the\nspring herbs and grasses, and therefore it must be wonderfully\nstrengthening. But the more general belief concerning May-dew was that\nto get up early on May-morning and wash one\u2019s face in the dew, ensured a\nrosy complexion. A cosmetic for beautifying the complexion by removing\nfreckles used to be distilled from _fevertory_ (Wil.), the common\nfumitory, whence the old couplet: If you wish to be pure and holy, Wash\nyour face with fevertory.\n\n[Sidenote: _Charms and Antidotes_\n           _Remedies for Boils, Burns, and Colds_\n           _Cures for Cramp_\n           _Dropsy and Sore Eyes_\n           _Fits, Hiccups, Nettle-sting_\n           _Quinsy, Rheumatism, Rickets_\n           _Sciatica, Shingles, Sores_\n           _Bad Legs, Skin-wounds, Styes_\n           _Thrush, Teething_\n           _Safeguards against Toothache_\n           _Old Beliefs about Warts_\n           _Types of Wart-cure_\n           _Cures for Wens_\n           _Remedies for Whooping-cough_]\n\nFor an Adder-bite: Apply the contents of two addled goose-eggs; a\npoultice compounded of boiled onions and rotten eggs (Shr.); garlic,\nthe Churl\u2019s Treacle (Chs.), or countryman\u2019s antidote to the bite of\nvenomous creatures. As an amulet, a _milpreve_ (Cor.), or ball of\ncoralline limestone, may be worn; or it may be boiled in milk, and\nthen the milk administered to the patient as an antidote. To repeat\nverses 1 and 2 of _Ps._ lxviii was supposed to be efficacious both as\na protection from adders, and as a cure for their bites. In an old\nMS. book, once the professional note-book of a Cornish white witch,\noccurred the following prescription: \u2018A charam for the bit of an ader.\n\u201cBradgty [spotted], bradgty, bradgty, under the ashing leaf,\u201d to be\nrepeated three times.\u2019 For Ague: Take wood-lice, the species which roll\nup on being touched, and swallow them as pills (Nhp.); or wrap a spider\nup in a cobweb, and swallow it like a pill (Sus.); place a spider in\na nutshell, and suspend it round the neck in a small bag (Sus. Lan.);\n\u2018take the eare of a mouse and bruise it, then take salte and stamp them\ntogether, and make a pultas with vinegar, and so lay it to the wrists,\u2019\nMS. book of recipes, seventeenth century; write this charm on a\nthree-cornered piece of paper, and wear it round the neck till it drops\noff: Ague, ague, I thee defy, Three days shiver, Three days shake, Make\nme well for Jesus\u2019 sake; pass on the disease by means of this charm: I\ntie my hair to the aspen-tree, Dither and shake instead of me (Lin.).\nTo stop Bleeding: Apply pulverized selenite, called _staunch_ (Nhp.),\nbecause it is supposed to possess the power of stanching the bleeding\nof wounds; or spiders\u2019 webs (Sc. Yks.); for cuts when shaving, use a\n_bull-fiest_ (e.An.), or puff-ball; repeat _Ezek._ xvi. 6 (Dev. Cor.);\nor this charm: Christ was born in Bethlehem, baptized in the river of\nJordan, and as the waters stood still, so shall the blood stand still\nin thee, A-- B--. In the name of the Father, &c. (Dev. Cor.). To cure\nNose-bleeding: Take one or two large toads, put in a cold oven, and\nincrease the heat till the toads are cooked to a crisp mass. Beat this\nto powder in a stone mortar. Place the powder in a box, and use it as\nsnuff (Dev.); tie the patient\u2019s left garter round the family Bible,\nand put a key on the back of the neck (Shr.); repeat nine times these\nwords: Blood abide in this vein as Christ abideth in the Church, and\nhide in thee as Christ hideth from Himself (Dev.). For Boils: Take a\nquart of alder-tree berries, stew in two or three quarts of water, and\nsimmer down to three pints, add liquorice to give a flavour. Dose: one\nwineglassful every morning (Glo.). Boils are also cured by creeping on\nthe hands and knees beneath a bramble which has grown into the soil\nat both ends (Dev. Cor.). For Burns: Apply goose-dung, mixed with the\nmiddle bark of an elder-tree, and fried in May butter (Shr.); repeat\nthree times: Three wise men came from the east, One brought fire, two\ncarried frost. Out fire! In frost! In the name of the Father, Son, and\nHoly Ghost (Shr. Dev. Cor.). For a Cold: Drink balm-tea for a feverish\ncold, or _organ-tea_ (Dev. Cor.), made from the herb penny-royal,\nwarranted to be specially efficacious when sweetened with honey, and\nwith a \u2018drap of zomtheng short in\u2019t-\u2019; take at bedtime a hot posset,\nmade either with buttermilk, or onions, or treacle; or _buttered-ale_\n(Nhp. Shr.) made thus: Boil a pint of ale with a lump of butter in\nit, beat up two eggs with sugar and spices, then pour the boiling ale\nupon the eggs while stirring briskly. For a cough _bramble-vinegar_\n[blackberry-] (Lin.) is said to be an excellent specific; and for\na sore throat, let somebody read _Ps._ viii seven times for three\nmornings in succession over the patient. For Colic: Stand on your\nhead for a quarter of an hour (Cor.); mix equal quantities of elixir\nof toads and powdered Turkey rhubarb. Dose: half a teaspoonful, taken\nfasting, three successive mornings (Dev.). Sloe gin is also to be\nrecommended. If the sufferer is an infant, administer in small doses,\n_cinder-tea_ (Yks. Lan. Glo. Oxf.), that is, sweetened water into which\nhot cinders have been dropped. For Consumption: Take herb-medicines\ndecocted from lungwort (Hmp.), the Jerusalem cowslip; or from _lungs of\noak_ (Hmp.), the hazel-crottles, _Sticta pulmonaria_; or from nettles;\nand eat _muggons_ (Sc.), the mugwort, for as the old rhyme says: If\nthey wad drink nettles in March And eat muggons in May, Sae mony braw\nmaidens Wadna gang to the clay. Snail soup (Yks.), and broth made of\nthe flesh of an adder boiled with chicken (Lin.) are also valuable\nremedies. My old nurse remembers when she was a young nursemaid, seeing\nher master, who was consumptive, swallow baby frogs before breakfast by\nway of a cure for his complaint. The treatment proved successful, for\nthese reminiscences had been called forth by a newspaper notice of the\ngentleman\u2019s death in 1910 at the age of eighty-eight! For preventing\nCramp: Wear eel-skin garters (Yks.), especially recommended for use\nwhen bathing; when going to bed place your shoes under the bed with\nthe soles uppermost (Yks.), or with the toes peeping outwards (Lan.);\nor cross your stockings and shoes (Shr.); sleep with your stockings\non, and with a piece of sulphur in each; or go to bed with the skin\nof a mole bound round your left thigh; carry in your pocket, or in\na little bag tied round your neck, a _cramp-bone_ (Dur. Nhp. e.An.\nSom.), either the patella of a sheep or lamb, or the top vertebra\nof a goose, but beware lest it should fall to the ground, for if it\ntouches the ground, its virtue is lost. The real old historic talisman\nis, however, the _cramp-ring_ (n.Cy. Yks. Lin.), a ring made out of\nthe handles of decayed coffins, and worn as a charm against cramp.\nFormerly these rings were consecrated by the kings of England, who were\nsupposed to cure cramp, the ceremony of the consecration being solemnly\nperformed on Good Friday. That this faith in the virtue of a ring is\nnot yet dead is shown by the following advertisement, taken from a\nmodern periodical: \u2018We know our marvellous GALVANIC Ring will cure\nyou as it has done thousands of others, and to prove this will send\nyou one on receipt of 1_s._ deposit.... Absolutely cures Rheumatism,\nNeuralgia, Lumbago, Sleeplessness, Gout, Nervous Disorders, and kindred\ncomplaints. They are also a certain cure for General Lassitude, no\nmatter from what cause arising. Worn by Royalty.... Why suffer? Delay\nis dangerous. Send for one of our wonderful rings to-day and be cured.\u2019\nFor Cuts: Apply a poultice made of comfrey. If the sufferer is a man,\nuse the red comfrey, and if a woman, the white variety (Shr.); or bind\nthe wound with _cut-leaf_ (Bck. Hmp.), the _Valeriana pyrenaica_, the\nupper side of the leaf next the skin for a cut, and the under side for\na gathering. For Diarrhoea: Take a decoction of _slon-root_ (Lei.),\nthe root of the blackthorn; or raspberry-leaf tea (Wm.); or grate into\nmilk or brandy a biscuit or small piece of a loaf baked on Good Friday,\nand kept throughout the year for this purpose (Yks. Wor. Sus. Dev.).\nGood Friday bread is also a specific for the same complaint in calves.\nFor Dropsy: Drink _besom-tea_ (Som.), an infusion of the leaves\nof the red heath broom; or try the following recipe: Take several\nlarge fully-grown toads, place them in a vessel in which they can be\nburned without their ashes becoming mixed with any foreign matter.\nWhen reduced to ashes, pound them in a stone mortar. Place the ashes\nin a wide-mouthed jar, cork closely and keep in a dry place. Dose.\nOne teaspoonful of ashes in milk, to be taken at the growing of the\nmoon for nine mornings (Dev.). For Sore Eyes: Take a handful of the\nknobs called _pearls_ (Irel.), which grow at the base of button-grass\nstems, crush them in a small quantity of water, and use the water as\nan eye-wash; chickweed is also beneficial (Dev.); bathe the eyes with\nrain-water caught on Ascension Day (Shr. Wor.); or foment them with\nwater in which club-moss has been boiled (Cor.), but this is only\nefficacious if the moss has been gathered with all due ceremony. The\nday for cutting must be the third day of the new moon, the hour must be\nsun-down, and the operator, having first carefully washed his hands,\nmust kneel on the ground. The knife to be used must be shown to the\nmoon, and then the following words must be repeated: As Christ heal\u2019d\nthe issue of blood, Do thou cut, what thou cuttest, for good! When\ncut, the club-moss must be wrapped in a white cloth, and afterwards\nboiled in water from the spring nearest the place where it grew. If\npreferred, the club-moss may be mixed with butter made from the milk\nof a new cow, and applied as an ointment (w.Cy.). For Fits: Drink an\ninfusion of _herb-of-grace_ (Lin.), the rue; go to the parish church\nat midnight on June 23, and walk through each aisle, then crawl three\ntimes from north to south under the Communion table exactly as the\nclock strikes twelve (Dev.); place the foot of a toad in a small bag,\nand wear it suspended round the neck (Cor.). As a protective charm\nagainst fits the tongue of a still-born calf, dried and worn in such\na position that it touches the spine, is effective (Yks.); or a ring\nmade of a _sacrament shilling_ (Shr.), which must be obtained thus: beg\ntwelve pennies from twelve young unmarried men, and exchange them for a\nshilling from the offertory alms. In parts of Yorkshire the _sacrament\npiece_ was a half-crown, taken from the Communion alms in exchange for\nthirty pennies collected from thirty poor widows. The half-crown was\nthen perforated to allow of a ribbon being passed through it, and it\nwas worn round the neck as an amulet. For an attack of Hiccup: Repeat\nthe following: Hiccough, hiccough, gang away, An\u2019 cum ageean some udder\nday When aw brew an\u2019 when aw beeake, An\u2019 than aw\u2019l mak\u2019 a hiccough\nceeake (Lakel.). For Measles: Give as a medicine a mixture called\n_crooke_ (Irel.), compounded of porter, sulphur, and sheep\u2019s dung;\npass the patient three times round the body of a live bear (Shr.). To\nsafeguard a child from the infection of measles, place it on the back\nof a donkey, facing the animal\u2019s tail, pull three hairs from the tail,\nand hang them in a bag round the child\u2019s neck, and then walk the donkey\nup and down a short distance, a thistle being held the whole time over\nthe child\u2019s head (Yks.). For a Nettle-sting: Rub the affected part with\na dock-leaf, and say the while: Nettle in, dock out, Dock in, nettle\nout, Nettle in, dock out, Dock rub nettle out, repeating the charm\nrapidly till the pain ceases. Other versions are: Nettle oot, dockan\nin; Dockan, dockan, in, Nettle, nettle, out; Docken, docken, inward,\nNettle, nettle, outward; Dock go in, nettle come out; Out \u2019ettle, in\ndock, Dock shall ha\u2019 a new smock, \u2019Ettle zhant ha\u2019 narrun [ne\u2019er a\none]. The use of this charm was evidently a common custom as far back\nas Chaucer\u2019s time, for he introduces the words as a phrase meaning\nfirst one thing and then another, cp. \u2018But canstow pleyen raket, to and\nfro, Netle in, dokke out, now this, now that, Pandare?\u2019 _Troil. and\nCres._ Bk. IV, ll. 460-1. In this sense, the charm-formula is found\nas a proverbial expression in North-country dialects as late as the\nfirst half of the nineteenth century. For Quinsy: Drink an infusion\nof _squinancy-berries_ (Lan. Ess.), black-currants, so called because\nof their special efficacy in such cases, cp. O.Fr. _squinancie_,\nquinsy. Once upon a time there lived on the borders of Worcestershire\nand Shropshire a wise man who worked cures, whose method of treating\nquinsy was this: he made the patient sit bolt upright in a chair, with\na poached egg on the top of the head, and a string of roasted onions\nround the neck, and then he blew a mysterious powder down the poor\nvictim\u2019s throat through a tobacco-pipe. For Rheumatism: Get a ha\u2019porth\nof mustard and boil it in a pint of beer; find a _dunderbolt_ (Cor.),\nboil it in water for some hours, and then drink the water, and it will\nprove a sovereign remedy. For external application use _viper\u2019s oil_\n(Nrf.); or _marsh-mallows-tea_ (Shr.), the latter is specially good\nfor the \u2018swellin\u2019 as comes from rheumatiz\u2019. Charm-cures are: A potato,\npreferably a stolen one, carried in the pocket (Shr. Nrf. Dev. Cor.);\nor the shoulder-bone of a rabbit sewn up in brown paper (Shr.); or the\nright fore-foot of a hare (Nhp.). A _sacramental sixpence_ (Chs.); or a\nring made of three nails taken from three coffins out of three several\nchurchyards (Shr.), may be worn as a protective talisman. A story is\ntold of an old woman who wanted to present herself for confirmation,\nthough it was known that she had been confirmed already at least\ntwice. When taxed with this she replied: Au knaws au has, but au finds\nit good for the rheumatics. For Rickets: Draw the child through a\n_holey-stone_ (Yks.), a large upright stone with a hole through it; or\ncause the child to undergo the ceremony of _laying_ (Bnff. ne.Sc.), as\nfollows: the child must be taken before sunrise to a smithy in which\nthree men, bearing the same name, work. One of the smiths then takes\nthe child, first lays it in the water-trough of the smithy, and then\non the anvil. While lying on the anvil all the tools are, one by one,\npassed over the child. It is then given back to the mother, or nurse,\nwho washes it once more in the water-trough. In some places the water\nwas first heated by plunging pieces of hot iron into it, and the child\nwas given a little of the water to drink, besides being bathed in\nit, the anvil part of the ceremony being omitted. In Northumberland,\na _heart-grown_ child, i.e. one sickly and puny from a supposed\nbewitchment, was subjected to a somewhat similar process, but in this\ncase it was important that the blacksmith should be of the seventh\ngeneration in an unbroken line of blacksmiths. The child was laid on\nthe anvil, and the blacksmith raised his hammer as if about to strike\nhot iron, bringing it down gently to touch the child\u2019s body. This was\nrepeated three times, after which the child was expected to thrive\nwithout further trouble. For Sciatica: The following charm was known in\nuse as late as the end of the nineteenth century: The patient must lie\non his back on the bank of a river or brook, with his head against the\nstream, and a straight ashen staff between him and the water, and these\nwords must be repeated over him: Boneshave [sciatica] right, Boneshave\nstrite; As tha watter rins by tha stave, Zo follow boneshave (Dev.).\nFor Shingles: Burn some barley straw to powder, and put the ashes on\nthe part affected; or apply grease taken from the wheels of church\nbells, called _dodment_ (Wor.), or _bell-coom_ (Bdf.). This is said\nto be the sovereign cure. In Shropshire, under the name of _bletch_,\nit is an approved remedy for ring-worm. In parts of Lincolnshire a\nname for shingles is _cat-jingles_, and children are warned that they\nwill contract it if they habitually nurse cats. For Smallpox: Take\na bun from the shop of a person whose wife when she married did not\nchange her name, be careful not to pay for it, nor even say \u2018thank\nyou\u2019, and then give it to the patient to eat (Chs.). For Sores: Apply\ncrushed leaves of the greater periwinkle; _cut-finger-leaf_ (Wil.),\nall-heal, _Valeriana officinalis_; the _vagabond\u2019s friend_ (Lakel.),\nthe Solomon\u2019s seal; _holy vervain_, _Verbena officinalis_. _Poor Jan\u2019s\nleaf_ (Dev.), the house-leek, also called _silgreen_, _singreen_ (Shr.\nOxf. Dor.), pounded and mixed with cream is good as a cooling ointment.\n_Featherfew_ (Lin.); and _goose-grass_ (Hnt.), the silver weed, are\nboth recommended for allaying inflammation. For Bad Legs a _cow-sharn_\npoultice (Shr.) is considered efficacious, and this is the recipe\nfor making it: Tak\u2019 a \u2019antle o\u2019 wutmil [handful of oatmeal], an\u2019 as\nmuch cow-sharn as\u2019ll mix well together, an\u2019 put it on the leg, it\u2019ll\nswage the swellin\u2019 an\u2019 mak\u2019 it as cool as a cowcoomer [cucumber]. A\n_foal-sark_ (Yks.), the membranous covering in which a foal is born,\nwhen dried, is much valued as a remedy for sores and skin-wounds.\nIf you cut yourself, sticking the knife into a flitch of bacon will\nprevent the wound taking bad ways (Shr.). A boy who had hurt his hand\nwith a rusty nail, was told by the Wise-man whom he consulted, to\nhave the nail first well filed and polished, and that then it must be\nrubbed every morning before sunrise, and every evening before sunset.\nBy following these directions the wound was cured (Nhb.). For a wound\ncaused by the prick of a thorn the following is a Cornish charm: Christ\nwas of a virgin born, And he was pricked by a thorn, And it did never\nbell [fester] nor swell, As I trust in Jesus this never will. For\nSprains: _crab-varjis_ (Shr.), the juice of the crab-apple, is said\nto \u2018swage the swellin\u2019\u2019 due to a sprain. An old Northumbrian remedy\nwas practised by the _stamp-strainer_, a person skilled in the art of\ncuring sprains by stamping on them. The limb ought afterwards to be\nbound up with an eel\u2019s skin. For Stitch in the side: Use an application\nof saliva (Shr.), the common remedy for the painful sensation known as\n\u2018pins and needles\u2019. For a Stye in the eye: Rub it outwards from the\nnose with a wedding-ring (Som. Dev. Cor.), some say this should be done\nexactly three times, some say nine times; or it may be stroked nine\ntimes with a cat\u2019s tail, in which case, if the cat be a black tom-cat,\nthe cure is more certain. To draw out a Thorn: Apply the cast-off\nslough of a viper (Nrf.). For Thrill in the foot: Make the sign of the\ncross with your finger on the toe of your shoe (Yks.). If the foot\nis \u2018asleep\u2019, make the sign of the cross with spittle on the sole of\nthe shoe (Shr.). For Thrush: Hold a live frog by one of its legs, and\nallow it to sprawl about within the mouth of the child suffering from\n_frog_, or thrush (Chs. Lin. Shr.), the frog thereby will become the\nrecipient of the complaint. Take the child to a running stream, draw a\nstraw through its mouth, and repeat the verse, _Psalm_ viii. 2: \u2018Out of\nthe mouth of babes and sucklings hast thou ordained strength because\nof thine enemies, that thou mightest still the enemy and the avenger\u2019\n(Dev.); or take it, fasting, on three successive mornings to have its\nmouth blown into by a person who never knew his father, that is to say,\na posthumous child (Cor.). A _left twin_, the survivor of two twins,\nis thought to possess the power of curing thrush (Sus.). Teething: A\ncoral necklace round a baby\u2019s throat will ensure easy teething, cp.\n\u2018Though coral doth properly preserve and fasten the teeth in men, yet\nit is used in children to make an easier passage for them: and for that\nintent is worn about their necks,\u2019 _Vulgar Errors_, Bk. V, Chap. XXIV.\nA necklace of beads cut from the root of henbane and placed round the\nchild\u2019s neck is a Devonshire substitute for coral. Some ten or twelve\nyears ago I knew a baby that always wore a mysterious black velvet band\nround its neck, which the mother said was a certain preventive against\nteething troubles, for all her children had worn a like talisman in\ninfancy, and no one of them had ever had any difficulty in cutting its\nteeth. For Toothache: Take a decoction of _elicompane_ (Chs.), the\nhorse-heal; mix two quarts of rat\u2019s broth, one ounce of camphor, and\none ounce of essence of cloves. Dose: one teaspoonful three times a day\n(Dev.); steal some lead from the church roof or windows, and place a\npellet of it in the hollow of the decayed tooth (Dev.); apply a mustard\nplaster to the wrist (Shr.). If you light on a briar-boss [gall of the\nwild rose] accidental wen yo\u2019 \u2019an the tuth-ache, an\u2019 wear it in yore\nboasom, it\u2019ll cure it (Shr.). To find a _loady-nut_ (Dev.), a double\nnut, is lucky, for it will cure toothache; so does a tooth found in\na churchyard, if rubbed on the cheek over the aching spot (Yks.). A\nspider enclosed in a nutshell, and worn in a bag hung round the neck\n(Wor.); a dead person\u2019s tooth carried in the left waistcoat pocket\n(Dev.); and the paw of a mole (Shr.), are all good safeguards against\ntoothache. If you always put your left stocking and shoe on first, it\nprevents toothache. If you cut your nails on a Friday you will never\nhave toothache, for, as tradition tells, when St. Peter once complained\nof the toothache, our Lord told him to cut his nails on a Friday, and\nhe would be cured. It is well to remember never to perform this task\non a Sunday, for: A man had better ne\u2019er be born Than on the Sabbath\npare his horn. St. Peter seems to have been a kind of patron saint of\nsufferers from toothache. An old toothache-charm bearing reference to\nhim was once common throughout the country, as is testified by the\nvarious versions of it which have been discovered by folklorists. The\ncharm had to be written out on paper, and worn on the person of the\nsufferer, properly under a vest or stays. A Shropshire version is as\nfollows: \u2018As Jesus passed through Jerusalem He saw Peter standing at\nthe gates and saith unto him, \u201cWhat aileth thee, Peter?\u201d Peter saith,\n\u201cLord, I have the toothache that I can neither walk, lie, nor stand.\u201d\nHe saith unto him, \u201cFollow Me, and thou shalt not have the toothache\nany more.\u201d\u2019 In Somersetshire it ran: \u2018Peter sat on a marble stone,\nWhen by here Jesus came aloan, \u201cPeter what is it makes you for to\nquake?\u201d \u201cLord Jesus, it is the toothake.\u201d \u201cRise, Peter, and be heled.\u201d\u2019\nScholars affirm that the original of this charm is a Latin one found\nin the Anglo-Saxon _Leechdoms_, beginning: \u2018Christus super marmoreum\nsedebat; Petrus tristis ante eum stabat, manum ad maxillum tenebat....\u2019\nFor Warts: Rub them with _Devil\u2019s milk_ (Yks.), the great celandine,\nalso called the _wart-flower_ (Dev.), or _wart-wort_ (Glo. Wil.);\nor with _wart-grass_ (Cum. Yks. Der.), the sun-spurge, also called\n_wartweed_ (Cum. Yks. Glo. e.An.). These plants, and others which\nlikewise contain a milky white sap, are the most popular remedies for\ncuring warts. Other applications are: _frog-spit_ (Yks.), the white\nfroth deposited on plants by the insect _Cicada spumaria_; the slime\nof a common snail (Dev.); fasting spittle (Shr.); and eel\u2019s blood\n(Nhb.). It is a common North-country belief that to wash the hands in\nwater in which eggs have been boiled will most certainly produce warts.\nDr. Christopher Wren, Dean of Windsor, and father of the architect\nof St. Paul\u2019s, in his marginal notes to Sir Thomas Browne\u2019s _Vulgar\nErrors_, makes the following quotation from Lord St. Alban\u2019s \u2018natural\nhistorye\u2019: \u2018The taking away of warts, by rubbing them with somewhat\nthat afterwards is put to waste and consume, is a common experiment;\nand I do apprehend it the rather because of my own experience.... The\nEnglish ambassador\u2019s lady, who was a woman far from superstition, told\nme one day, she would help me away with my warts: whereupon she got\na piece of lard with the skin on, and rubbed the warts all over with\nthe fat side; and amongst the rest, that wart which I had had from my\nchildhood: then she nailed the piece of lard, with the fat towards the\nsun, upon a post of her chamber window, which was to the south. The\nsuccess was, that within five weeks\u2019 space all the warts went quite\naway: and that wart which I had so long endured, for company.... They\nsay the like is done by the rubbing of warts with a green elder stick\nand then burying the stick to rot in muck. It would be tried with\ncorns and wens, and such other excrescences.\u2019 This type of wart-cure\nwas formerly prevalent in very many parts of England. The following\nare some of the best-known recipes: Take a large black slug, or snail,\nrub it on the wart, and then impale the creature on a thorn-bush, and\nleave it there to die and wither away, simultaneously with the decaying\nof the snail the wart will consume away and disappear; rub the wart\nwith the inside of the husk of a broad bean, and then throw the husk\naway or bury it in some place disclosed to no one, as the bean-husk\nrots, so will the warts; perform the same ceremony with a piece of\nstolen meat or bacon; take as many sprigs of elder as there are warts,\nwith each sprig touch a wart, saying: Here\u2019s a wart, then touch a\nplace where there is no wart, and add: but here\u2019s none, then bury the\nsprigs; rub the warts with ears of wheat, an ear for each wart, then\nthrow away the ears of wheat to perish at a \u2018four-lane end\u2019; make as\nmany knots in a hair as there are warts, and then throw it away; take\nas many stones from a running stream as you have warts, fasten them\nsecurely in a clean white bag, and throw them down on the highway,\nthen wash each wart in strong vinegar seven successive mornings, and\nwhoever picks up the bag of stones will get the warts; wrap up in a\nparcel as many grains of barley as there are warts, and lay it on a\npublic road, whoever finds and opens the parcel will inherit the warts;\ncount the warts over carefully to a passing tramp, and mark the number\ninside his hat, when he leaves the neighbourhood, the warts will also\ndisappear; cut an apple in two, rub one half on the wart and give it to\na pig, and eat the other half yourself; on the night of the new moon,\nlet some one lead the wart-patient out into the garden, facing that\nquarter of the heavens where the moon is, the patient must then stoop\ndown and rub the warts with soil, returning immediately afterwards to\nthe house without once looking at the moon, cp. \u2018referring unto sober\nexamination what natural effects can reasonably be expected ... when\nfor warts we rub our hands before the moon, or commit any maculated\npart unto the touch of the dead,\u2019 _Vulgar Errors_, Bk. V, Chap. XXIV;\nrepeat the words: Ashentree, ashentree, Pray buy these warts of me,\nthen stick a pin into the tree, and afterwards into the wart, and then\ninto the tree again, and leave it there. The belief in remedies of\nthis kind is apparently not yet dead, to judge from a reference in a\nspeech made last July at a Conference on \u2018The Revival of the Gifts of\nHealing in the Church\u2019. The speaker, Dr. A. T. Schofield, is reported\nto have said that: \u2018There could be no doubt that all disease was\npartly caused and partly cured by mind. As proof that mental healing\nhad power over the material diseases, he might instance the wonderful\npower it had over the plebeian affliction of warts.\u2019 For Wens: Take a\nhandkerchief which has been wrapped round the swelling, and throw it\ninto the grave at the burial service of a person of the opposite sex\nto that of the sufferer, as the handkerchief decays in the earth, the\nwen will disappear. Formerly the approved cure was the _dead-stroke_\n(Nhp.), the stroking by the hand of a person who had just been hanged,\nand numbers of people used to congregate round the gallows at an\nexecution in order to receive this cure. For Whooping-cough, or as\nit is termed in the dialects, Chin-cough, or Kink-cough: Administer\nmedicines made from the juice of _Robin-run-in-the-hedge_ (Irel.), the\ngoose-grass, or cleavers, boiled with sugar; _golden-locks_ (Hrf.), the\ncommon polypody; _Robin Redbreast\u2019s cushion_ (Sus.), the rose-gall,\nor bedeguar; or give wood-lice as pills (Lin.). Other remedies are:\nfried mice (Chs. Nrf.); roast hedgehog (Chs.); owl-broth (Yks.); a\ndecoction made from _pushlocks_ (Sc.), sheep\u2019s droppings, also known\nas _lamb-trottle tea_ (Lin.); a few hairs taken from the cross on a\ndonkey\u2019s back, chopped up fine, and placed between two slices of bread\nand butter, and given to the child to eat (Chs. Shr.). Take a clean\npocket-handkerchief and spread it under the nose of a donkey, give\nthe animal a piece of white bread, take up the crumbs which fall, mix\nthem with milk, and give the mixture to the child to drink; make the\nchild eat its food with a _quick-horn_ spoon (ne.Sc.), that is, a\nspoon made from the horn taken from a living animal. A woman who has\nnot changed her name in marriage can cure whooping-cough by giving\nthe patient something to eat, a cake, or a piece of bread and butter\n(Chs.). If the child is fed with bread and butter from the table of\na family the heads of which bear the names of John and Joan, it is\nlikewise efficacious (Cor.). In a certain district in Staffordshire\nchildren suffering from whooping-cough were often sent to an old couple\nwhose names were Joseph and Mary in hopes of a gift of food, which\nif neither asked for, nor thanked for, was regarded as an effective\nremedy. Any one riding a piebald horse has the power to prescribe an\ninfallible remedy for whooping-cough (Sc. n.Cy. Shr.), and cures are\nsaid to have resulted from the simplest things, such as cold water,\nhoney, bread and butter, and tea, suggested by riders in answer to the\nquestion: What is good for the chin-cough? Another approved remedy was\nto pass the child a certain number of times, usually nine, round the\nbody of a parti-coloured horse, a donkey, a white cow or mare (Chs.\nShr. Dev.). A child that had ridden on a bear was believed to be proof\nagainst ever taking the disease (Lan.). The bearward of former times\nsubsisted largely on the moneys given him by the parents of children\nthat had ridden on the bear as a protection against whooping-cough.\nCarry the child into a sheep-fold, and let the sheep breathe on its\nface, and then lay the child on the spot of ground from which a sheep\nhas just arisen, continue this daily for a week, and: \u2019Tes a zartin\ncure (Dev.). Find a briar growing in the ground at both ends, pass\nthe child under and over it nine times, for three successive mornings\nbefore sunrise, repeating: Under the briar, and over the briar, I wish\nto leave the chin-cough here; or pass the child six times under and\nover a bramble rooted at both ends, round and round while saying the\nLord\u2019s Prayer, then take half a dozen leaves from the spray, and make\ntea of them, and give them to the child to drink (Shr.). This ceremony\nperformed over a bramble which grows in three counties is considered a\nstill more potent charm. In parts of Scotland children were sometimes\nput through the hoppers of mills. Catch a frog, open its mouth, let the\npatient cough into it three times, and then throw the creature over his\nleft shoulder, and the cough will disappear at once (Chs. Yks. Wor.).\nAnother way of transferring the disease to a frog is to put the latter\ninto a jug of water, and make the patient cough into the jug, and this\n_smits_ [infects] the frog, and the patient is cured. A woman relating\nhow she had cured her child after this manner, added: It went to my\nheart to hear the poor frog go coughing about the garden afterwards.\nThe mountain-ash also figures as a remedy for the chin-cough. A small\nlock of hair must be cut from the head of the patient, and then placed\nin a hole bored in the trunk of the tree, and fastened into it with a\nplug (Chs.). Or again, a certain number of _hodmidods_ [small snails]\nwere passed through the hands of the patient and then threaded on a\nstring and suspended in the chimney; as the _hodmidods_ died, the cough\nwould leave the child (Suf.). In Norfolk the mother of the sufferer\nwould be told to find a dark spider in her own house, and hold it over\nthe head of her child, repeating three times: Spider, as you waste\naway, Whooping-cough no longer stay. The spider must then be hung up\nin a bag over the mantelpiece, and when it has dried up, the cough\nwill be gone. Among curative charms to be worn by the patient are: a\nhairy caterpillar, or a small wood-lizard stitched up in a bag, and\ntied round the child\u2019s neck (Yks. Shr.); some hairs from a donkey\u2019s\ncross sewn up in a strip of flannel, and worn round the throat (Chs.);\nan _adder-stone_ (Lin.), an ancient spindle-whorl, believed to be\nproduced by adders; a string with nine knots in it (Lan.); the small\ntwigs of an elder growing in a churchyard, cut into lengths of about an\ninch, and then threaded into a necklace; a godmother\u2019s stay-lace, or\na godfather\u2019s garter (Shr.), worn round the neck of a child suffering\nfrom whooping-cough.\n\n[Sidenote: _Supposed Powers of Healing_]\n\nThe seventh son of a family, born in succession without a girl, was\nbelieved to be born with special aptness for the healing art (Shr. Som.\nDev.). An old man who died at Welshampton about 1868, used to cure\nwhooping-cough merely by contact with the patient. Sometimes as many as\nten or twelve children were brought to him on one day. He always gave\neach child a piece of cake before going away, but he never received any\nmoney from any one for the cures he performed. He attributed his powers\nsolely to the fact that he was the seventh son of three generations of\nseventh sons. In former days it was believed that a seventh son could\n_strike_ for the king\u2019s evil (Dev. Cor.).\n\n[Sidenote: _The Water-caster_]\n\nA mediciner much thought of in parts of Yorkshire was the\n_water-caster_. Perhaps none of them are left now, but certainly well\nwithin the memory of the present generation a member of the profession\nlived in a village near Bradford, where he was frequently consulted for\nall sorts of diseases and bodily misfortunes. He pretended to be able to\ndiagnose the complaint from the _cast_ or appearance of the urine, and\nto prescribe accordingly. On one occasion he told a woman that he had\ndiscovered by this means that her child, on whose behalf she had come,\nhad injured himself by falling down some stairs. Whereupon the mother,\nat first unable to trust this astounding perspicacity, put it to the\ntest by asking the number of the stairs the child had covered in his\nfall. \u2018Seven,\u2019 replied the water-caster. \u2018Your wreng, Mester,\u2019 said the\nmother, \u2018it wor nine.\u2019 \u2018Then you didn\u2019t bring me all the water,\u2019 was the\ncalm rejoinder. \u2018Your reight, Mester, there, ah didn\u2019t bring it all.\u2019 So\nthe woman went away satisfied that the water-caster was a man of\ninfallible skill. In reality his marvellous insight was the result of a\nvery simple expedient. He was only to be seen at certain stated times,\nhence he always had several patients arriving at the same hour. He kept\nthem waiting all together whilst he himself remained behind a boarded\npartition, where he was supposed to be occupied with his scientific\nresearches. Naturally the various sufferers detailed their respective\nills and symptoms to each other, whilst the attentive water-caster\nsecretly noted them down, to reproduce afterwards with some simple\nmedical advice in return for pecuniary considerations.\n\n[Sidenote: _Charms against Cattle Disease_]\n\nThe best-known charm against cattle diseases in Scotland and the\nnorth of England was the _need-fire_, a virgin flame kindled by the\nfriction of two pieces of wood. It was formerly raised in one village\nand hurriedly carried on from one village to another. A correspondent\nof _The Times_, in an article on the Coronation Bonfires, June 13,\n1911, says: \u2018These \u201cneed-fires\u201d have continued in the north of England\nwithin living memory. The writer has spoken with farmers in Cumberland\nand Westmorland who in a time of cattle plague have not only seen the\n\u201cneed-fire\u201d carried from farm to farm, but cattle driven through the\nsmoke to stop the murrain.\u2019 The word still remains in popular sayings,\nsuch as: To be at a thing like need-fire, to do anything with great\neffort or industry; to go like need-fire, to go with great speed;\nto work for need-fire, to show great industry or restless activity\n(Lakel. Cum. Wm.). Another charm-cure for cattle was the _shrew-ash_\n(Lan. Sus. Hmp.). The affected part of the injured or diseased\nanimal was rubbed with leaves or twigs from an ash-tree in the trunk\nof which live mice and shrews had been plugged up, and thus buried\nalive. The _thunder-bolts_, and _awf-shots_, which we have already\nnoticed among charms against human ills, were also used for the cure\nof disordered cattle. If an animal died of distemper, a portion of\nits flesh cut out and hung in the chimney would serve as a protection\nagainst a recurrence of the complaint (Lan.). For a _foul_ (Chs.), an\ninflammation between the claws of a cow\u2019s foot: Cut a sod on which the\ndiseased foot has stood, the shape of the foot, and stick it on a bush.\nFor Lameness in a horse, caused by a nail: Thrust the nail into a piece\nof bacon, as it rusts, the wound will heal (Wor.). The _quarter-ill_ is\na disease which specially attacks young cattle, affecting them in one\nlimb or quarter, and usually ending in death. To prevent this, at the\nbirth of a calf, salt was sprinkled on its back, and an unbroken egg\nthrust down its throat (Nhb.). A piece of wood, termed a _scopperil_,\nwas sometimes put through the dewlap of a beast, and an amulet\nsuspended from it as a defence against the quarter-ill. Another disease\nto which calves are subject is called _speed_ (Yks.), to prevent this,\nto nick the calf\u2019s ears before it had seen two Fridays was believed to\nbe efficacious. A Shropshire method of preventing a cow from fretting\nafter her calf when it is taken away from her, was to cut a lock of\nhair from the calf\u2019s tail and put it into the mother\u2019s ear. This\nkeepsake was supposed to console her for the loss of her offspring. Ef\nyour dawg du lose \u2019is \u2019air, yiew mix up some oil, gunpowder, and the\nashes of an old shoe--that\u2019ll make \u2019air grow \u2019pon a boord.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XV\n\nDIVINATION\n\n\n[Sidenote: _Love Divination_]\n\nThe most prevalent of all the superstitious practices and charms\nfor divining future events are the ceremonies connected with\nlove-divination. Many of them are still in use, secretly practised\nby the country maiden who is pining for a sweetheart, or having one,\ndoubts if he will prove constant; or if she is so fortunate as to\npossess several admirers, she wonders which to select, and seeks this\naid to help her in her choice. Fortune-telling by means of plants\nis mostly done by children, and is indeed little more than a game.\nThe plant most commonly employed for this purpose is the rye-grass,\ncalled _aye-no-bent_ (Glo.), _what\u2019s your sweetheart_ (Sus.), and\n_tinker-tailor grass_ (Som. Dev.). The alternate seeds are picked off\none by one from the bottom upwards, to the words: Tinker, tailor,\nsoldier, sailor, Rich man, poor man, beggarman, thief, each seed\nrepresenting the occupation named at the moment it is plucked. The\nlist is repeated over and over again till there is only one seed left\nstanding at the top, and this is the calling of the future husband of\nthe girl who is trying to read her fate. The same game is also played\nwith the leaves of the _pick-folly_ (Nhp.), the lady\u2019s smock, and with\nthe fruit-stones left on a plate after eating a helping of pie. The\ndate of future marriage is foretold by plucking off the petals of a\nfield daisy one by one to the words: This year, next year, sometime,\nnever. In Shropshire, children playing with a cowslip-ball toss it up\nand say: Tissy-ball, tissy-ball, tell me true, How many years have I\nto go through? Then, if they catch it as it comes down they count it\nfor a year, and so, on and on, as the ball is tossed up and caught\nagain. A love-divination game played by school-children in Berkshire\nvillages has been described to me thus: write out your own name in\nfull, and below it the name of your chosen sweetheart. Then cross out\nevery letter of the alphabet common to both names, and count over\nthe remaining letters by repeating: Friendship, courtship, marriage,\nthrough each name taken separately, and the result will show the future\nrelationship between the two. Just lately, a young woman I know well\nwas feeling thoroughly depressed about her lover, for in spite of his\nlong-standing devotion, he yet seemed in no hurry to \u2018get settled\u2019;\nwhen a friend of hers suggested putting the matter to the test of\nthis charm, which they used to work on their slates in school, and\nexhibit over their shoulders to little boys behind, when the teacher\nwas not looking that way. Both names ran out with \u2018marriage\u2019, and\nsure enough, within a very short time the young man announced that he\nwas looking out for a cottage with a view to the wedding this autumn!\nThe common yarrow foretells constancy in courtship. Take one of the\nserrated leaves of the plant, and with it tickle the inside of the\nnostrils, repeating at the same time the following lines: Yarroway,\nyarroway, bear a white blow, If my love love me my nose will bleed\nnow (e.An.). If blood follows this charm success in love is certain.\nSimilarly apple-pips may be consulted on this point. The name of the\npossible lover must be whispered, or thought of in silence, and then\nthe pip placed in the fire, or on the hot bars of the grate, and these\nlines repeated: If you love me, pop and fly, If you hate me, burn and\ndie. This is also done with nuts, and with peas. In some parts of the\ncountry the ceremony is only efficacious if performed on St. Mark\u2019s\nEve, April 24, or Hallowe\u2019en, Oct. 31. Apple-pips are also used as a\ncharm to tell in what direction the future wife or husband lies. The\npips are pressed between the finger and thumb until they fly, the\nfollowing verse being repeated meanwhile: Pippin, pippin, paradise,\nTell me where my love lies; East, west, north, south, Kirby, Kendal,\nCockermouth (Lan.). The potency of the _even-ash_, i.e. an ash-leaf\nwith an even number of leaflets, shows itself thus; the young girl who\nfinds one repeats the words: This even-ash I hold in my han\u2019, The\nfirst I meet is my true man. She then asks the first male person she\nmeets on the road what his Christian name is, and this will be the\nname of her future husband (Irel. Dev.). It is considered as lucky to\nfind an even-ash as to find a four-leaved clover, for: Even-ash and\nfour-leaved clover, See your true love ere the day\u2019s over (Nhb. Shr.\nDev. Cor.). If you find nine peas in a pod, and place the pod over the\ndoor, the first person who comes in will bear the Christian name of\nyour future partner in life (Shr. Ken.), cp.:\n\n    As peascods once I pluck\u2019d, I chanced to see\n    One that was closely fill\u2019d with three times three,\n    Which when I cropp\u2019d I safely home convey\u2019d,\n    And o\u2019er my door the spell in secret laid.\n    My wheel I turn\u2019d, and sung a ballad new,\n    While from the spindle I the fleeces drew;\n    The latch moved up, when who should first come in,\n    But in his proper person, ---- Lubberkin.\n            Gay, _The Shepherd\u2019s Week: Thursday, or The Spell_.\n\n[Sidenote: _How to discover a Lover_]\n\nOther ways of discovering the name of the lover are: Cut through the\nstem of a bracken fern, and the veins will show the initial letter\n(Nrf.); examine the veins on the back of your left hand, and note the\nletter they form; on May morning, take a small white slug termed a\n_drutheen_ (Irel.), place it on a slate covered with flour or fine dust,\nand the track it pursues in the dust will form the initial letter of the\nname of the prospective husband; place a key at random in a Bible, and\nnote the letter to which it points (Oxf.); take an apple, pare it whole,\nand holding the paring in your right hand, stand in the middle of the\nroom repeating the following lines:\n\n    St. Simon and Jude, on you I intrude,\n      By this paring I hold to discover,\n    Without any delay to tell me this day,\n      The first letter of my own true lover.\n\n[Sidenote: _A future Husband\u2019s Occupation revealed_]\n\nThen turn round three times, and cast the paring over your left\nshoulder, and it will form the first letter of the future husband\u2019s\nsurname. A form of this divination trick was to my knowledge practised\nby some of the kindergarten children at the Oxford High School in 1910.\nA method whereby Berkshire damsels of to-day seek to discover the\nname of a future husband is this: Split open an unused envelope, and\nwrite three names of young men you know, or would like to know, one in\neach of three corners, leaving one corner a blank. Place a piece of\nwedding-cake in the middle of the envelope, and fasten it up firmly,\nand then lay it under your pillow for three successive nights. Each\nmorning tear off a corner, and the name left on the fourth morning will\nbe the name of the destined husband, or if it is the blank corner which\nremains, then you will die an old maid. The future husband\u2019s occupation\nmay be revealed on New Year\u2019s Eve by pouring some melted lead into\na glass of water, and observing what form the drops assume. If they\nresemble scissors, they point to a tailor; if they depict a hammer,\nthen they foretell a carpenter, and so on (Lan.). Another similar\ncustom, belonging to Midsummer Day, is recorded as known in Cornwall:\nGet a glass of water, throw into it the white of a freshly-broken egg,\nand then put the glass to stand in the sunshine. You will soon see by\ncareful observation, the ropes and yards of a vessel if your husband is\nto be a sailor, or a plough and team if he is to be a farmer. If when\nyou first hear the cuckoo you take off your left shoe and stocking,\nyou will find inside the latter a hair of the same colour as that of\nthe person you will marry (Shr.), cp. \u2018Then doff\u2019d my shoe, and by\nmy troth, I swear, Therein I spy\u2019d this yellow frizled hair,\u2019 Gay,\n_Thursday, or The Spell_. Charms for procuring a vision of the beloved\nare: on St. Thomas\u2019 Eve, Dec. 20, peel a large red onion, stick nine\npins into it and say: Good St. Thomas, do me right, Send me my true\nlove this night, In his clothes and his array, Which he weareth every\nday, and then place the onion under your pillow; on All Saints\u2019 Eve\ngo into the garden alone at midnight, and while the clock is striking\ntwelve pluck nine sage-leaves, one at every stroke up to the ninth,\nwhen you will see the face of the future husband, or if not, you will\nsee a coffin (Shr.); gather twelve sage-leaves at noon, keep them in\na saucer till midnight, then drop them one by one from your chamber\nwindow into the street, simultaneously with each stroke of the hour,\nthe future husband will then either be seen, or else his step will be\nheard in the street below (Yks.); on Midsummer Eve walk through the\ngarden with a rake over your left shoulder, and throw hempseed over\nyour right, repeating the while: Hempseed I set, hempseed I sow, The\nman that is my true love Come after me and mow. The future husband\nwill then appear following with a scythe. This charm with variations\nin the words used, and performed at different seasons, is widespread\nthroughout the country, cp.:\n\n[Sidenote: _A Midsummer-Eve Charm_]\n\n    At eve last midsummer no sleep I sought,\n    But to the field a bag of hemp-seed brought,\n    I scatter\u2019d round the seed on ev\u2019ry side,\n    And three times in a trembling accent cried,\n      _This hemp-seed with my virgin hand I sow,\n      Who shall my true-love be, the crop shall mow._\n    I straight look\u2019d back, and if my eyes speak truth,\n    With his keen scythe behind me came the youth.\n            Gay, _The Shepherd\u2019s Week: Thursday, or The Spell_.\n\n[Sidenote: _Rites on the Eve of St. Agnes_\n           _How to ascertain if one will marry_]\n\nGet up at midnight on All Saints\u2019 Eve and stand before a looking-glass,\ncombing your hair with one hand, and eating an apple held in the\nother, and as the clock strikes twelve you will see in the glass the\nface of the man you will marry looking over your left shoulder (Shr.\nWor.). I can remember a schoolfellow of mine performing this ceremony,\nbut in her case the prophecy proved a false one, for according to\nher description, the chief feature of the man in the vision was his\nmoustache, and the man she ultimately married had none, for he was a\nclean-shaven clergyman. Perhaps the reason why the charm failed was\nbecause she had no apple to eat! On the Eve of St. Mark (Yks.), or of\nSt. Agnes, Jan. 20 (Lan.), place on the floor a lighted _pigtail_, a\nsmall farthing candle, which must have been previously stolen, or else\nthe charm will not work. Then sit down in silence and watch it till\nit begins to burn blue, when the future husband will appear and walk\nacross the room. The following is a very simple plan: Spread bread\nand cheese on the table, and sit down to it alone, observing strict\nsilence. As the clock strikes twelve your future lover will appear and\njoin you at your frugal meal (Cor.). On St. Agnes\u2019 Fast, Jan. 21, you\ncan procure a sight of your future husband thus: Eat nothing all day\ntill bedtime, then boil an egg hard, extract the yolk, fill up the\ncavity with salt, and eat the egg, shell and all, then walk backwards\nto bed, repeating these lines: Sweet St. Agnes, work thy fast; If ever\nI be to marry man, Or man be to marry me, I hope him this night to\nsee (Nhb.). Some say that the same result may be effected by eating\na raw red herring, bones and all, before going to bed; or by placing\nthe shoes, on going to bed, at right angles to each other in the shape\nof a T, saying the while: I place my shoes in form of a T, Hoping my\ntrue love to see; Not dressed in his best array, But in the clothes\nhe wears every day (Nhb. Dev.). Another more elaborate ceremony is\nthe preparation of the _dumb-cake_ on St. Mark\u2019s or sometimes on St.\nAgnes\u2019 Eve (n.Cy. Nhb. Yks. Nhp. Nrf.); or, as in Oxfordshire, on\nChristmas Eve, under the commonplace name of _dough-cake_. The cake\nmust be prepared fasting, and in silence. When ready it must be placed\nin a pan on the coals to bake, and at midnight the future husband will\ncome in, turn the cake, and go out again. In order to dream of the\nfuture husband: on a Friday night, when you go to bed, draw your left\nstocking into your right and say: This is the blessed Friday night; I\ndraw my left stocking into my right, To dream of the living, not of\nthe dead, To dream of the young man I am to wed (Shr.), then go to\nsleep without uttering another word; read the verse: \u2018Lay down now,\nput me in a surety with thee; who is he that will strike hands with\nme?\u2019 _Job_ xvii. 3, after supper, then wash up the supper dishes and\ngo to bed without speaking a word, placing the Bible under your pillow\nwith a pin stuck through the verse previously read (ne.Sc.); or place\na Bible under your pillow with a crooked sixpence over the verses:\n\u2018And Ruth said, Intreat me not to leave thee, or return from following\nafter thee....\u2019 _Ruth_ i. 16, 17 (Lan.); take a blade-bone of mutton,\nstick it full of pins, go upstairs to bed walking backwards, and place\nthe bone under your pillow (Yks.); get a piece of wedding-cake, carry\nit upstairs backwards, tie it in your left stocking with your right\ngarter, place it under your pillow, and get into bed backwards, keeping\nstrict silence all the while (Cor.). In its simplest form of sleeping\nwith what Addison calls \u2018an handsome slice of bride-cake ... placed\nvery conveniently under\u2019 the pillow, this is perhaps the most widely\npractised of all the dream-charms. Gather on a Friday at midnight nine\nleaves of the she-holly, _Ilex aquifolium_, tie them with nine knots\ninside a three-cornered handkerchief, and place them under the pillow\n(Nhb.). A way of finding out if you will ever be married or not, is\nto go into the farmyard at night and tap smartly at the door of the\nfowl-house. If a hen first cackles, you will never marry, but if a\ncock crows first then you will marry before the end of the coming year\n(Dev.). The merry-thought of a fowl is frequently used to ascertain\nwhich of two young people will be the first to enter the married\nstate. In some places the shorter piece of the broken bone denotes the\nnearer marriage, elsewhere the longer piece is the coveted portion. In\nNorthumberland _scadded_ [scalded] peas were formerly eaten out of a\nlarge bowl, and the person who obtained the last pea was supposed to be\nthe first married.\n\nBeside these ceremonies--of which the above are a mere handful among\nthe hosts of examples of this popular form of divination which might be\nquoted--there are the more serious and solemn practices for discovering\napproaching death, such as _watching the kirk_ on St. Mark\u2019s Eve (Dur.\nYks.). The watcher took up his post at midnight in the church porch,\nand between then and one o\u2019clock he would see pass into the church\none by one the figures of all the persons in the parish who would die\nwithin the coming year. According to some, all the parishioners would\nbe seen to defile into the church, and then those destined to live\nthrough the year would pass out thence, while the doomed would remain\nbehind and never be seen again. Another St. Mark\u2019s Eve custom was the\n_caff-riddling_ (Yks.), a mode of divination by means of a _riddle_\nand chaff. The inquirer repaired at midnight to the barn, and leaving\nthe doors wide open, he there riddled the contents of his sieve, and\nwatched for portents. If a funeral procession passed by, or shapes of\nmen carrying a coffin, then the watcher would die within a year, but if\nnothing appeared he was destined to live. St. Mark\u2019s Eve was also the\nnight for _ash-riddling_ (n.Cy.). The ashes were riddled on the hearth,\nand left there untouched when the family retired to rest, the idea\nbeing, that if any of the inmates of the house were fated to die within\nthe year, the print of his or her shoe would be found impressed in the\nsoft ashes.\n\n[Sidenote: _Divination to discover Theft_]\n\nThe ancient form of divination by \u2018riddle and shears\u2019 was used for the\ndiscovery of theft. A sieve was held in a pair of shears, whilst the\nnames of suspected persons were uttered. At the mention of the culprit\u2019s\nname, the sieve was supposed to turn round. Similar to this are the\ninvestigations made with \u2018Bible and key\u2019, though the details of the\nperformance vary slightly in different parts of the country. In\nDevonshire the trial was conducted thus: the name of the suspected\nperson was written on a piece of paper and placed within the leaves of a\nBible, together with the front-door key, the wards of which must rest on\nthe eighteenth verse of Psalm 1: \u2018When thou sawest a thief, then thou\nconsentedst with him.\u2019 The left garters of two persons were then tied\nround the Bible, and these two persons placed their right forefingers\nunder the bow of the key, repeating at the same time the above-mentioned\nverse. If the Bible moved, the suspected person was condemned as guilty,\nif it remained stationary, he was adjudged innocent.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XVI\n\nBIRTH, MARRIAGE, AND DEATH CUSTOMS\n\n\nAs might be expected, very many ancient superstitious ideas have\nlingered round the three great events of man\u2019s life--his birth,\nmarriage, and death. They took shape in various customs which were\nhanded down from one generation to another long after the beliefs\nunderlying them had ceased to exist in the popular mind. But now the\ntraditional customs themselves are fast disappearing, whilst often their\noriginal significance is a matter only to be explained by the most\nlearned folklorists. Here and there a new meaning has been grafted on to\nan old practice, which makes the old usage sound rational, and prolongs\nits life. For instance, in some districts, the first food given to a\nnewly-born baby is a spoonful of butter and sugar, administered as\nwholesome, and even necessary medicine; but according to scholars, the\npractice was in origin a religious rite, belonging to remote antiquity.\nAgain, it is popularly regarded as unlucky to cut a baby\u2019s nails before\nit is a year old, because if this was done the baby would most certainly\ngrow up a thief. If the nails need to be shortened, they must be bitten\nor pulled off. The real reason why the baby\u2019s fingers must not come in\ncontact with the scissors, is a fear respecting the baneful effect of\niron, which has its source in the Dark Ages of primitive man, cp.\n\u2018Professor Rhys believes aversion to iron to be a survival of the\nfeeling implanted in man\u2019s early life, when all metals were new, and\nhence to be avoided.... The same dread of iron has doubtless given rise\nto the custom throughout Europe regarding children\u2019s nails. Everywhere,\nincluding England, it is the practice to bite off the infant\u2019s nails if\ntoo long, and not to cut them, at least for the first year, or until the\nchild, who is peculiarly open to the attacks of all malignant\ninfluences, has grown strong,\u2019 F.T. Elworthy, _The Evil Eye_, 1895, p.\n224. Further, Mr. Elworthy tells us that the habit of covering up a\nnew-born baby\u2019s face whenever it is taken out of the house, said to be a\nnecessary protection against the rigour of the outer air, may be\nreferred to the \u2018primaeval belief in the liability of infants to the\nblighting effect of the stranger\u2019s eye,\u2019 _The Evil Eye_, p. 428.\n\n[Sidenote: _Birth Customs_]\n\nMuch is supposed to depend upon which day of the week a child is born.\nThe following rhyme is well known, though it varies slightly in\ndifferent localities; this is a Devonshire version:\n\n    Munday\u2019s cheel is fair in tha face.\n    Tewsday\u2019s cheel is vull of grace.\n    Wensday\u2019s cheel is vull of woe.\n    Thezday\u2019s cheel hath var t\u00fc go.\n    Vriday\u2019s cheel is loving and giving.\n    Satterday\u2019s cheel work\u2019th \u2019ard vur a living.\n    Zinday\u2019s cheel\u2019s a gentleman.\n    Cheel born upon old Kursemas day\n    Es g\u00fcde, and wise, and fair, and gay.\n\nFor Latin and O.E. versions of this v. \u2018Wochentags-Geburtsprognosen,\u2019\nby Prof. Max F\u00f6rster in _Archiv f\u00fcr das Studium der neueren Sprachen\nund Literaturen_, Band 128, Heft 3/4, June 1912. The cradle provided\nfor the baby must be paid for before it is brought into the house, else\nthe child that sleeps in it will die without means to pay for a coffin\n(Yks.). Another curious superstition concerning a cradle is that should\nany one rock an empty cradle another baby will shortly come to occupy\nit (Shr. Sus. Cor.): Rock the cradle empty, You\u2019ll rock the babies\nplenty. When possible, a new-born child before being laid beside the\nmother was placed in the arms of a maiden. This was thought to have a\nbeneficial influence on the development of its character. It is still\nheld important that the first time an infant leaves the mother\u2019s room\nit should be taken _up_stairs, not _down_. If there is no upper story,\nthen the nurse mounts upon a chair, or some other article of furniture,\nwith the baby in her arms; for if its first step in the world is a\ndescent, then its subsequent career in life will be a downward course.\nThis custom was observed in the case of a baby born a fortnight ago\nin Oxford, June 3, 1912, in a highly superior family. In Cumberland a\nchild born on a Friday was always placed on the Bible shortly after\nits birth, no doubt with intent to secure it against the power of\nfairies. We have already noticed some of the ceremonies for warding\noff evil beings. One of these observances, formerly in use in the\nnorth of Scotland, was to turn an infant three times head over heels\nin the nurse\u2019s arms, and shake it three times head downwards, to keep\noff fairies. Both in Scotland and in many parts of England a notion\nprevailed that it was unlucky to wash the palms of a baby\u2019s hands, for\nif washed, they would never \u2018gather riches\u2019. Sometimes this rule was\nobserved till the baby was a year old.\n\n[Sidenote: _Feasts at the Birth of a Child_]\n\nIn some districts it is still the custom to provide a feast on the\noccasion of the birth of a child for all the friends and neighbours who\ncome to assist or to congratulate. This festive gathering is known under\nvarious names, for example: the _bed-ale_ (sw.Cy.), the word _ale_ being\nused in its old meaning of feast, cp. lit. Eng. _bridal_, from O.E.\n_br\u0233d-ealu_, literally, the bride-feast. Sometimes, however, the term is\nwrongly applied to the liquor prepared for these occasions, which,\nproperly speaking, is the _groaning-drink_. The _blithe-meat_ (Sc.\nIrel.), where amongst the viands was always a cheese, called the\n_cryin\u2019-oot cheese_; the _cummer-skolls_ (Sh. & Or.I.); the _merry-meal_\n(Chs.), where the chief items were currant cakes called Lord Ralph, and\nspirits of which all must partake to bring good luck to the new arrival;\nthe _merry-meat_ (ne.Sc.), where was served the _cryin\u2019-bannock_ made of\noatmeal, milk, and sugar, and baked in a frying-pan, and beside it the\nindispensable cheese, or _cryin\u2019-kebback_, of which each guest was\nexpected to carry away a piece for distribution among friends who were\nnot present at the entertainment; the _shout_ (Yks.), to which the\nneighbours were summoned at the moment when the birth was about to take\nplace, and to which they came each with a warming-pan. After the event,\nthey stayed to spend a festive hour, when each guest was expected to\nfavour the child with a good wish. In more modern times this custom of\ncelebrating a birth by a convivial gathering is commonly spoken of in\nnorthern England as: the head-washing, or: weshin\u2019 t\u2019bairn\u2019s head, and\nis not so much a feast as a free drinking.\n\nThe old north-country toast drunk at the birth-feast was: The wife a\ngood church-going and a battening to the bairn; or: Here\u2019s good\nbattening to t\u2019barn, and good mends to the mother!\n\n[Sidenote: _Dainties belonging to Birth Feasts_]\n\nThe _groaning-cheese_ seems to have been everywhere a standing dish\nat the birth-feast. Formerly it was the practice to cut it in the\nmiddle, and so by degrees form it into a large kind of ring through\nwhich the child was drawn on the day of the christening (n.Cy. Oxf.).\nA slice of it laid under the pillow was supposed to enable a maiden\nto dream of her lover. The remains of the cheese and cake were kept\nfor subsequent callers, and every visitor was expected to taste\nthem. A special Cumberland dainty belonging to birth festivities is\n_run-butter_, or _rum-butter_, fresh butter melted with brown sugar and\nrum, poured into china bowls, where it stiffens, and out of which it is\nserved, generally with _havver_ [oat] _breed_. The lady who first cuts\ninto the bowl is predicted to require a similar compliment. At one time\nit was customary to hide the bowl of _rum-butter_ and allow it to be\nsearched for by boys, who, having found it and eaten its contents, made\na collection of money, which was put by for the baby in whose honour\nthe delicacy had been made.\n\nA custom once common in nearly all the northern counties of\nEngland--and still extant at the end of last century--was that of\npresenting a new-born infant with three articles \u2018for luck\u2019, the first\ntime it visited a neighbour or relation. The gifts usually consisted\nof an egg, a handful of salt, and a new sixpence, but sometimes a\npiece of bread, or a bunch of matches was substituted for the coin. In\nLancashire and Yorkshire this ceremony was known as _puddinging_; in\nDurham the gifts were termed: the bairn\u2019s awmous, cp. O.N. _almusa_,\nan alms. On the day of the christening somewhat similar gifts were\nmade by the parents on behalf of the child. Before the procession\nstarted for church, a parcel was made up containing a slice of the\nchristening cake, some cheese, and a packet of salt. This was called\nthe _christening bit_ (Sc. n.Cy.), or _kimbly_ (Cor.). It was presented\nto the first person met on the way to church, and it was considered\nspecially lucky if that person chanced to be of the opposite sex to\nthe infant. In parts of Scotland the receiver was always the first\nmale passer-by. He constituted the child\u2019s _first-foot_, and if he\nwas a dark-haired man it augured well for the child\u2019s future, but\nif fair-haired, then the reverse. After the church service came the\nchristening feast at home, with its special cakes, and dishes such as\n_butter-sops_ (Cum. Wm.), oatcake or wheaten bread fried in melted\nbutter and sugar. Then the child\u2019s health would be drunk with some such\nformula as the following: Wissin\u2019 the company\u2019s gueede health, an\u2019\ngrace and growin\u2019 to the bairn (ne.Sc.).\n\n[Sidenote: _Omens drawn from Baptismal Service_]\n\nThe ceremony of private baptism is never considered equal to public\nbaptism in church. A child baptized privately is said to have been\n_half-baptized_ (w.Midl. Oxf. Ken. Sus.), or _named_ (e.An.), e.g. He\nwasn\u2019t ever christened, only named. Indeed, the term _half-baptized_ is\nsometimes used as an epithet applied to persons of deficient intellect,\nequivalent to half-baked. It is held lucky for the baby to cry during\nsome part of the baptismal service, the utterance of one good yell being\nthe most favourable omen. If a male and a female infant are presented\nfor baptism at the same time, the boy must be baptized first, else he\nwill grow up effeminate, and play second fiddle to his wife; and the\ngirl will become masculine in face and mien (Yks.).\n\n[Sidenote: _Marriage Customs_]\n\nMost of the rural wedding customs belong to the days when, in\naccordance with the popular maxim: Better wed over the mixen [dunghill]\nthan over the moor, the bride\u2019s old home with her parents, and the\nnew one she was to share with her husband were both within walking\ndistance of the church where the wedding took place. Then all the\nneighbours were the friends of both bride and bridegroom, they had all\ngrown up together with the same local traditions, and they all clung\nto the observance of the same ceremonies. Now railways and bicycles,\nnewspapers and cheap magazines, have broken down the old order of\nthings. The bridegroom\u2019s friends and relations are often complete\nstrangers to the bride\u2019s kith and kin, their ways and beliefs are\nunknown to each other. They cannot join together in some time-honoured\nceremonial when the newly-wedded pair enter their future home; instead\nthey wave hats and handkerchiefs in the wake of a train or a motor\nwhich is carrying the couple to a distant dwelling-place. The bride,\ntoo, has up-to-date ideas. She wants to make a sensation like Lady\nDunfunkus Macgregor\u2019s daughter, a description of whose marriage she has\njust read in the _Daily Mail_, or like Miss Gwendolen Fitzwilliam in\nthe current number of the _Family Journal_. Her dress and her doings,\nand all the wedding festivities must as far as possible be modelled\non a fashionable pattern, till finally, modern conventionalities and\nnot ancient customs rule the day. Two or three years ago the _Weekly\nNews_ of a very small town in Herefordshire was sent to me in order\nthat I might read therein an account of a village wedding in which I\nwas interested because I had known the bride\u2019s parents all my life.\nHer father was the village blacksmith, and sexton of the parish, as\nhis father, and grandfather, and great-grandfather had been before\nhim. Here was described how the bride wore a \u2018gown\u2019, and how her\nmother \u2018held a reception in a marquee\u2019, and how the bride changed\ninto her \u2018travelling costume\u2019, and how \u2018the happy couple\u2019 then \u2018took\ntheir departure in a motor-car\u2019, to \u2018spend the honeymoon\u2019 somewhere at\nthe seaside. Indeed, from the newspaper report it might have been a\nfashionable \u2018Society\u2019 wedding, except for one recorded detail: in the\nlist of wedding presents it appeared that the bridegroom\u2019s father had\nbestowed on the happy couple \u2018a pig\u2019! I am glad to say that the young\npeople did not continue to live up to the style of their wedding, and\nthe bride has since often spoken of the pig as the most valuable of\nall their wedding presents, for within a year this exemplary animal\npresented them with no less than twenty-eight robust and healthy\npiglings!\n\n[Sidenote: _Names for publishing the Banns_]\n\nThe usual preliminaries to a wedding, namely, the giving in of the\nbanns of marriage, and the publishing of the same in church, can be very\nvariously expressed in dialect speech, for example: to put in the cries\n(Sc.), or t\u2019spurrins (Yks.), or the askings (Lan.); or to put up the\nsibbritts (Chs. e.An.), or sibberidge, cp. O.E. _sibbr\u01e3den_,\nrelationship; to be asked in church (gen. dial.); to be asked out (gen.\ndial.), i.e. to have the banns published for the last time; to be called\nin church (Lin.), or called home (Wil. Dor.); to be church-bawled\n(Sus.); to be prayed for (e.An.); to be shouted (Lan.); to be spurred\n(Yks. Lan. Der. Lin. Wil.). The word _spur_ in this sense is from O.E.\n_spyrian_, to investigate, inquire into, but popular etymology has\nconnected it with the ordinary literary English substantive _spur_.\nHence the jocular remark when a person has been once asked in church:\nWhy, thoo\u2019s gotten one spur on thee! In many villages (Lin. Hnt. Rut.)\nit is customary to ring what is called the _Spur-peal_, either at the\nclose of the morning service, or in the evening of the Sunday when the\nbanns are published for the first time. Formerly in parts of Wiltshire a\nman whose banns had been published for the first time was said to have:\nvallen plump out o\u2019 the pulpit laas\u2019 Zunday, and he was asked how his\nshoulder was, since it had been put out o\u2019 one side. Parallel to this is\nthe remark: He\u2019s gotten broken-ribbed to-day (Lin.); and further, there\nare the expressions: to fall over the desk (w.Cy.); and to be thrown\nover the balk (n.Cy.), _balk_ here signifying the rood-beam dividing the\nchancel of a church from the nave. If after the banns have been\npublished the marriage does not take place, the deserted one is said to\nhang over the balk; or, to be hung in the bell-ropes (Chs. Der. Wor.).\nTradition in Sussex says that if a man goes to church to hear his banns\nread, his children will be born deaf and dumb. If a man withdraws his\nbanns after they have been given in, his projected marriage is spoken of\nas a _rue-bargain_ (Lan.). Them at\u2019s e\u2019 a horry to wed gen\u2019lins eats\nrew-pie afoore thaay\u2019ve been married a year is a Lincolnshire way of\nsaying: Marry in haste and repent at leisure. To get married is: to tie\na knot wi the tongue, at yan cannot louze wi\u2019 yan\u2019s teeth (Yks. Nhp.).\n\nFormerly in Scotland and the north of England it was not uncommon for\nthe wedding-guests to contribute either in money or in kind to the\nexpenses of the marriage entertainment. Such a wedding was called a\n_bidden-wedding_ (Cum. Wm. Lan.), _bride-wain_ (n.Cy.), or\n_penny-wedding_ (Sc.). In Lancashire, when the couple to be married were\nof the very poor, it was once customary for the friends to assemble on\nthe wedding-day, and build for them a house of clay and wood, termed\n_post and petrel_; or _wattle and daub_. The relations provided a few\narticles of necessary furniture, and when the _clay bigging_ was\ncompleted the day was concluded with music and dancing.\n\n[Sidenote: _Lucky and Unlucky Days for Weddings_]\n\nIn fixing the date of the wedding care must be taken to note on which\nday of the week it falls, for each day of the week is supposed to have\nits special influence on the future life of the wedded pair:\n\n      Monday for wealth,\n      Tuesday for health,\n    Wednesday is the best day of all,\n      Thursday for crosses,\n      Friday for losses,\n      Saturday no luck at all.\n\nLeap year is looked upon as a lucky year for marriage: Happy they\u2019ll\nbe that wed and wive Within leap year; they\u2019re sure to thrive (Yks.).\nSunshine on the wedding-day is always a fortunate omen, for: Happy is\nthe bride that the sun shines on. It is very unlucky for the bride to\nwear green at her wedding (Shr. Yks.), even in any part of her\nclothing--Green and white, Forsaken quite--but opinions differ as to\nblue for the colour of the wedding dress: Deean\u2019t o\u2019 Friday buy yer\nring, O\u2019 Friday deean\u2019t put t\u2019spurrings in, Deean\u2019t wed o\u2019 Friday. Think\no\u2019 this, Nowther blue ner green mun match her dhriss (Yks.); If dressed\nin blue, She\u2019s sure to rue (Yks.). On the other hand, in certain parts\nof the country blue is a favourite colour for the wedding attire (Shr.).\nThe most lucky combination is to wear: Something old, and something new,\nSomething borrowed, and something blue. The something borrowed should if\npossible have been previously worn by a bride at her wedding. In\nDevonshire a bride is supposed to further her chances of prosperity by\ncarrying with her to church a few sprigs of rue, and of rosemary, and a\nlittle garlic in her pocket.\n\n[Sidenote: _Omens at Weddings_]\n\nIt is a very unlucky omen for a bride on her way to church if a cat or\na toad should meet her on the road; if a raven should hover over her; or\nif a dog, a cat, or a hare should run between her and the bridegroom; if\nthe bridal procession should encounter a funeral; or if a cripple should\ncross their path. It is unlucky for a widow to be present at the wedding\n(Shr.); or for the clock to strike during the marriage service (Wor.).\nWhen the ceremony is over, whichever of the wedded pair steps first out\nof church will be \u2018master\u2019 in the home (Brks.). At a recent wedding near\nOxford, the bride\u2019s mother-in-law stood waiting outside the church door\nto watch for this important omen, and when she saw her son step out\nfirst, she clapped her hands exultingly, greatly to the discomfiture of\nthe bride, who had heedlessly missed her opportunity. In parts of\nYorkshire the same superstition is connected with the leaving of the\nbride\u2019s old home after the wedding-feast; whichever of the two then\ncrosses the threshold first, will be the leader in their future life\ntogether. For unmarried members of the wedding party to rub against the\nbride or bridegroom is considered lucky, as by so doing they may hope to\ncatch the infection of matrimony.\n\nSuperstitious practices connected with the _first-foot_, such as we have\nalready noticed at christenings, are also to be found as part of the old\nwedding ceremonies. In some districts it was the bride herself, on her\nway to church, who carried in her pocket a small parcel of bread and\ncheese to give to the first woman or girl she might meet after leaving\nthe church (Dev.); in others it was a friend who was sent on in front of\nthe wedding procession with the _kimbly_ (Cor.) to be given to the first\nperson met on the road to church. In Scotland two people preceded the\nprocession, one of whom carried a bottle of whisky and a glass, and the\nother carried the bread and cheese. A man on horseback or accompanied by\na horse and cart was considered the most lucky _first-foot_.\n\n[Sidenote: _After the Wedding_]\n\nIn the north of England, after the marriage service was over, the\nbride on leaving the church had to jump or be lifted over the\n_parting-stool_, or _petting-stone_ at the churchyard gate, after\nwhich ceremony money was distributed by the bridegroom. In n.Devon\nthis custom takes the form of _chaining the bride_. Young men stretch\ntwisted bands of hay, or pieces of rope decorated with ribbons and\nflowers, across the gateway. Then the bridegroom scatters handfuls\nof small coin, the chain is dropped whilst the holders scramble for\nthe money, and the bridal party is free to pursue its way home. Money\ndemanded and forcibly exacted at the church gates from the bridegroom\nis known as _ball-money_ (Sc. Nhb. Cum. Chs.), so called because\nformerly the money was applied to buying a football for the parish;\n_bride-shoe_ (Yks.); and _hen-silver_ (Cum. Wm. Yks. Lan.). Sometimes,\nhowever, the _hen-brass_ is money privately given by the bridegroom\non the evening after the marriage to enable his friends to drink his\nhealth. In Westmorland a gun used to be fired over the house of a\nnewly-married couple, and the _hen-silver_ was the present of money\ngiven to the firing party to drink to the future health and good luck\nof the pair. A wedding at which no _ball-money_ is distributed is\ncontemptuously termed a _buttermilk wedding_ (Chs.). On the way home\nfrom church the bridegroom usually threw coppers to be scrambled for by\nthe children in the crowd; guns loaded with feathers were fired as a\nsign of rejoicing (Yks.); and friends came out to meet the bridal party\nbearing pots of warm ale sweetened and spiced, known as _hot pots_\n(n.Cy.). In Cheshire it is still customary to ornament the approach to\nthe bride\u2019s home with sand spread in patterns. The patterns are made by\ntrickling silver sand through the fingers, or through a large funnel.\nWreaths and floral emblems are thus traced out, and sometimes mottoes\nare written, such as: Long may they live and happy may they be; Blest\nwith contentment to all eternity.\n\n[Sidenote: _Wedding Sports_]\n\nAmong the ancient wedding sports was the _riding for the kail_ (Sc.\nn.Cy.), which took place when the bride was on her way home. When the\nparty was nearing the future home of the couple, the unmarried men set\noff to ride or run at full speed to the house, and whoever reached it\nfirst was said to _win the kail_, or _keal_. The idea was that the\nwinner of the _kail_ would be the first to enter the married state,\n_kail_ being the same word as _cale_, a turn in rotation. Some of the\naccounts of this sport would however seem to show that in some places\nthe _kail_ meant a dish of spiced broth given as a prize to the winner\nof the race. The race for the bride\u2019s garter (Yks.) was formerly a very\npopular wedding sport, and it continued in practice as late as the last\ndecade of the nineteenth century. The race was run from the churchyard\ngate to the _bride-door_, where the winner claimed the privilege of\nremoving the prize himself as the bride crossed the threshold of her\nhome. It was valued as a potent love-charm, and was given by the winner\nto his sweetheart: to binnd his luv. Later a ribbon or a handkerchief\nwas substituted for the bridal garter (Dur. Cum. Yks.).\n\nThe ceremony of _throwing the bride-cake_ existed in various forms in\nScotland and the northern counties of England. When the bride returned\nfrom church, she was met on the doorstep and presented with a thin\ncurrant cake on a plate, or it might be shortbread or oat-cake. Some of\nthis cake was then thrown over her head, or more commonly it was broken\nover her head by the bridegroom. In cases where the cake was thrown over\nthe bride\u2019s head, the plate was not infrequently thrown along with it.\nIn Scotland the cake provided was known as the _infar-cake_, cp. O.E.\n_inf\u00e6r_, an entrance. The custom is not yet extinct in Scotland, for I\nwas told by an eye-witness that at a fashionable Scotch wedding only two\nor three years ago, the bride\u2019s mother-in-law broke a cake of shortbread\nover the bride\u2019s head on her return from church. The following is a\nYorkshire rhyme which accompanies the usual throwing of slippers after a\nnewly-married couple:\n\n            A weddin\u2019 a-woo,\n            A clog an\u2019 a shoe,\n    A pot full o\u2019 porridge, an\u2019 away they go!\n\nA curious saying applied to an elder brother or sister left behind\nwhen a younger member of the family is married, is that he or she must\ndance in the pig-trough (Shr. Suf.), or in the half-peck (Yks.), or\ndance at the wedding in his (or her) stocking-feet (Shr.).\n\n[Sidenote: _Riding the Stang_]\n\nIn olden days, when a marriage resulted in conjugal infelicity, and\nthe husband became a wife-beater, popular disapproval was expressed\nby a method of punishing the offender known as Riding the Stang. This\ncustom with slight variations and under different names--such as:\nRantipole-riding, Skimmington-riding, or simply Riding--was once common\npractically throughout England, and in many parts of Scotland. Cases\nwhere it has been kept up in practice have been recorded as late as\nthe year 1896. The delinquent was caught and tied fast to a _stang_ or\npole, and carried round the village in the midst of a jeering crowd;\nor he was represented by a straw effigy borne on a ladder, or drawn in\na cart for three successive nights, accompanied by horn-blowing and\nshouting. When the procession reached the man\u2019s house, a long _nominy_\nor doggerel recounting his offences was recited, the verses varying\nin different localities. A Lincolnshire _nominy_ runs: He banged her\nwi\u2019 stick, He banged her wi\u2019 ste\u00e4n, He teeak op his naefe [fist], An\u2019\nhe knocked her doon. With a ran, tan, tan, &c. On the third night the\neffigy was burned in the street or on the village green. Sometimes\ninstead of an effigy, two men, one of them dressed in female attire,\nrode in the cart, giving a dialogue representation of the quarrel,\nand an imitation of the final beating. In some places the culprit\nwas merely serenaded with rough singing, and the noise of beating on\npots and pans. This ceremony was called Randanning, or Rough Music,\nand is closely allied to Stang-riding, cp. \u2018_Charivaris de poelles_.\nThe carting of an infamous person, graced with the harmony of tinging\nkettles, and frying-pan Musick,\u2019 Cotgrave.\n\n[Sidenote: _Death Superstitions_]\n\nAccording to a popular superstition once prevalent in many parts of\nEngland, dying persons could not pass away peacefully if there were any\nfeathers of game-birds or pigeons in the bed on which they lay.\nInstances have been recorded where some such feathers have been placed\nin a small bag, and thrust under the pillow of a dying man to hold him\nin life until the arrival of some expected relation; and further,\ninstances where, out of pure kindness, a sufferer at the point of death\nhas been removed from his bed, and laid on the floor to die \u2018nat\u2019rally\u2019.\nFormerly, when the moment of death was unmistakably nigh at hand, it was\ncustomary to throw open all the doors and windows, so that nothing\nshould hinder the flight of the departing spirit. I myself can remember\nwhat seemed to be a remnant of this superstitious observance in a\ncountry parish in Herefordshire about twenty-five years ago. The widow\nof an old farmer had just died, and her daughter told my father that it\nwas well that there was a bolt to the front door, for that the key must\nnot be turned in the lock whilst the body lay in the house. This we took\nto be a preservation of the letter of the old law. In Yorkshire there\nexists an idea that the door must not be locked for seven years after a\ndeath in the house.\n\n[Sidenote: _Death Customs_]\n\nImmediately after the death had taken place, the fire in the room was\nextinguished, and the looking-glass either covered up, or turned with\nits face to the wall (Yks. Shr.). In Scotland a piece of iron used to be\nthrust into all the eatables in the house, butter, cheese, meat, &c., in\norder--as it was said--to prevent death from entering them. When the\ncorpse had been duly laid out, or _streeked_ (Sc. n.Cy.), a plate of\nsalt was placed on the breast (Sc. Nhb. Shr. Dev.), formerly with the\navowed object of driving evil spirits away, but towards the latter end\nof the nineteenth century, where the custom was still in use, the reason\ngiven was that: it prevents the body from swelling. This placing of a\nplate of salt on the corpse had been part of the performances of the old\n_sin-eater_ (Sc. Hrf. Cth.), a person who was called in when any one\ndied, to eat the sins of the deceased. He placed a plate of salt and a\nplate of bread on the breast of the corpse, and muttered certain\nincantations, after which he ate the contents of the plates, thereby\ntaking upon himself the sins of the dead person, which would otherwise\nhave kept his ghost hovering round his relations on earth. In\nNorthumberland it was customary to double the thumbs of the deceased\nwithin the hand, to avert evil spirits. The candles kept burning round\nthe corpse were termed in parts of Lincolnshire _ghost-candles_, because\nthey were supposed to ward off ghosts.\n\nThe customs connected with the tolling of the Passing Bell vary\nsomewhat in detail in different localities, but they are substantially\nthe same. After the bell has tolled for some minutes there is a pause,\nand then follow the _tellers_, thrice three successive strokes for a\nman, twice three for a woman, and three strokes for a child. It has\nbeen suggested that the old saying: nine tailors make a man, is a\ncorruption of nine tellers mark a man.\n\nThe ceremony of holding watch over the dead between the time of death\nand burial was called the _wake_ or _lyke-wake_ in Ireland, Scotland,\nand the north of England. The relatives and neighbours of the deceased\nassembled at the house, and spent the night in the room with the corpse,\nsinging Psalms and dirges, chatting, telling stories, praising the\nvirtues of the departed, eating and drinking. This gathering usually\ntook place either the evening after the death, or the night before the\nfuneral.\n\nIn due course somebody went round to invite friends and neighbours to\nbe present at the funeral. This was called _bidding_ (n.Cy. Stf. Der.),\n_lathing_ (n.Cy.), or _sperring_ (Lan.), terms which are still in\nuse--e.g. Awm gooin\u2019 a sperrin\u2019, He\u2019s gone a laithin\u2019 o\u2019 th\u2019neeburs to\nth\u2019berrin\u2019, Ah mun gan an\u2019 see t\u2019last on him, ah\u2019s bid--though the\ncustom of sending a _bidder_ wearing a black silk scarf has long been\ndiscontinued. In many places in the Lake district, two persons from\nevery house within a prescribed area were invited to the funeral.\nFormerly the _bidder_ presented a sprig of rosemary to each invited\nguest, and the latter was expected to carry it with him to the funeral\n(Lan.). In Shropshire these sprigs were distributed to the mourners just\nbefore the procession left the house. At the conclusion of the burial\nservice each mourner cast his rosemary into the open grave. In\ns.Pembrokeshire a woman walked in front of the funeral procession\nstrewing sprigs of rosemary and box along the road--\u2018There\u2019s rosemary,\nthat\u2019s for remembrance.\u2019\n\n[Sidenote: _Funeral Cakes_]\n\nA custom still practised in Yorkshire and formerly prevalent in many\nother English counties, and also in parts of Wales, is that of\ndistributing _burying biscuits_, or _funeral cakes_, small oblong sponge\nbiscuits, which some think were originally intended to represent a\ncoffin. As each mourner arrives, he or she is presented with a biscuit\nand a memorial card. Sometimes this is done by two women who are called\n_servers_ (n.Yks.). In the Midlands the biscuits were folded up each in\nwhite paper sealed with black wax, and so handed round to every guest;\nin this form, too, they were sent out to any relations or intimate\nfriends not present at the funeral, just as wedding-cake is sent now.\nTwo generations ago this practice was commonly observed in middle class\nfamilies, as well as among the poorer folk. When my great-uncle--a\nwell-known Evangelical clergyman in Birmingham--died some twenty-five\nyears ago, his executors found among his papers a packet, yellow with\nage, containing what had once been a funeral sponge biscuit. Together\nwith the _funeral cakes_ spiced ale used sometimes to be served, in a\ntankard of silver or pewter; but in later, more degenerate days glasses\nof spirits and water replaced the tankard of ale. Meanwhile the coffin\nwas still kept open, that one and all might take a last look at the\ncorpse before the time came for _lifting_ (Sc. n.Cy.), when the coffin\nmust be closed. Formerly in Northumberland the _lifting_ of the corpse\nwas the signal for the outburst of lamentation known as _keening_ (Sc.\nIrel. Nhb.), a dismal concerted cry raised by the assembled mourners.\n\n[Sidenote: _Funeral Rites_]\n\nIt is still a custom in some Midland counties for little girls in\nwhite dresses and black sashes to act as bearers at the funeral of an\ninfant or very young child of their own sex, and for boys to carry\nbaby boys. The coffin is supported by white handkerchiefs or towels\npassed underneath and held on each side by the young bearers. The\n_funeral garland_ (n.Cy. Der. Lin. Shr. Hmp.), which marked the burial\nof a young unmarried woman, has now long since become obsolete. This\n_garland_ consisted of a coronal or wreath of ribbons, or flowers cut\nout in white paper, with a white glove suspended in the centre, and\nit was borne in front of the coffin, or upon it, to the grave, and\nafterwards suspended in the church. According to a popular belief the\npassage of a funeral over any ground establishes a right of way. Rain\nat a funeral is a good sign, for: Happy is the corpse that the rain\nrains on.\n\nA beautiful old custom, well known in Shropshire in olden days, and\nkept up certainly within living memory, is that of _ringing the dead\nhome_. When the funeral procession came in sight of the church, the\nbell ceased tolling, and a peal was rung, as if to welcome the body to\nits last resting-place.\n\nThere is a general feeling in country parishes against burial on the\nnorth side of the church. The south side is considered the holiest\nportion of the churchyard, where the cross stands, if such there be. In\na small parish, where there are few interments, the north side of the\nchurchyard may be quite empty. This points the moral contained in the\nphrase: Thaay bury them as kills thersens wi\u2019 hard wark o\u2019 th\u2019no\u2019th side\no\u2019 th\u2019chech, applied to persons who complain unwarrantably of hard\nwork.\n\nAfter the burial came the funeral feast held in the house where the\ndeceased had lived, or provided at the village inn. In some places if\nthe family was poor, it would be a _pay-berring_ (Yks.), and each of the\ninvited guests would give some small contribution towards the expenses.\nTo provide a handsome entertainment on these occasions was looked upon\nas a mark of fitting respect for the dead: Ah\u2019ve nivver been at sike a\nsitting-doon i\u2019 mah leyfe; ther war nowt bud tea-cakes, an\u2019 badly\nbuttered at that. Noo ah\u2019ve sahded fahve o\u2019 my awn, bud thank the Lord,\nah buried \u2019em all wi\u2019 ham. It is on record that at the funeral of a\nfarmer who died near Whitby in 1760, meat and drink were provided as\nfollows: \u2018110 dozen penny loaves, 9 large hams, 8 legs of veal, 20 stone\nof beef (14 lbs. to the stone), 16 stone of mutton, 15 stone of Cheshire\ncheese, and 30 ankers of ale; besides what was distributed to 1,000 poor\npeople who had 6_d._ each in money.\u2019\n\n[Sidenote: _Telling the Bees_]\n\nOne of the most interesting of all the ceremonies connected with\nfunerals is the superstitious practice known as _telling the bees_,\nonce common throughout the greater part of England. To _tell the bees_\nis to inform them of the occurrence of the death of the head of the\nhouse, or of some member of the family. If this is not done, they are\nsupposed to leave their hives and never return, or else they all die.\nThe right time for making the communication is either just before the\nfuneral leaves the house, or else at the moment when the procession\nis starting. On the Welsh Border people say it must be made in the\nmiddle of the night. The form of words used varies in different parts\nof the country, but they must always be whispered words, or the bees\nmay take offence. These are some of the recognized formulae: The master\nis dead; Your friend\u2019s gone; The poor maister\u2019s dead, but yo mun work\nfur me; Bees, bees, bees, your master is dead, and you must work for\n----, naming the future owner. This is accompanied in some instances by\nthree taps on the hive. The hives are \u2018put into mourning\u2019 by attaching\nto them a piece of black crape. In some places it was customary to\ngive the bees a piece of funeral cake; and elsewhere, small portions\nof every item of the funeral feast were collected in a saucer and put\nin front of the hive. In Devonshire the popular belief was that if the\nbees were not told of the death in the family, some other member of\nthe household would die before the expiration of the year. A writer\nin _Lloyd\u2019s Weekly News_, July 3, 1910, speaks of the superstition of\ntelling the bees as still extant; and at about the same date a girl in\nOxford told me that an uncle of hers--yet living--had lost all his bees\nby neglecting to tell them of the death of his mother.\n\n[Sidenote: _A Month\u2019s Mind_]\n\nIn some districts is found the observance of the _month\u2019s end_ (Hrf.\nw.Cy. Wales), a certain Sunday after the funeral when the mourners\nattend church. A trace of an old religious custom belonging also to the\ndays subsequent to the funeral has been crystallized in the phrase: to\nhave a month\u2019s mind to anything (Chs. Midl. e.An. I.W. Som. Cor.). This\nalludes to a pre-Reformation practice of repeating one or more masses at\nthe end of a month after death for the repose of a departed soul. In the\nChurchwardens\u2019 accounts of Abingdon, Berkshire, occurs the following,\namong other similar entries: \u20181556. Receyved att the buryall and\nmonethe\u2019s mynde of Geo. Chynche xxii_d_.\u2019 The phrase, however, long ago\nacquired the meaning it bears to-day, cp.: \u2018I see you have a month\u2019s\nmind to them,\u2019 Shaks. _Two Gent._ I. ii. 137; \u2018I have a month\u2019s mind to\nbe doing as much,\u2019 Jervas, _Don Quixote_; \u2018The King [Henry VII] had more\nthan a moneth\u2019s mind ... to procure the pope to canonize Henry VI for a\nsaint,\u2019 Fuller, _Church Hist._ Bk. IV. 23; I\u2019d a month\u2019s mind to a\nknock\u2019d un down (I.W.).\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XVII\n\nCUSTOMS CONNECTED WITH CERTAIN DAYS AND SEASONS\n\n\nBeside the customs connected with the changes and chances of man\u2019s\nmortal life, which we have considered in the foregoing chapter, there\nare those which belong to certain fixed days of the year, Saints\u2019 Days,\nand other church seasons and festivals. To give an account of each and\nall of the customs and pastimes which would come under this category\nwould indeed be a tremendous task, so great is their number, and so\nvaried their nature. I shall only attempt here to give a small\nselection, arranged according to the sequence of the dates to which they\nbelong.\n\nWe are all of us familiar with the usual ceremonies which usher in the\nNew Year--the sitting up to watch the Old Year out and the New Year in,\nthe ringing of the church bells immediately after the last stroke of\ntwelve, the handshaking, and exchange of greetings. But in England\ngenerally, New Year\u2019s Day is of little account as a festival, being\novershadowed by Christmas. In Scotland, on the other hand, New Year\u2019s\nDay holds the more important place, and consequently New Year\u2019s Eve, as\na day of preparatory observances, ranks above Christmas Eve. New Year\u2019s\nEve in Scotland is known as _Hogmanay_, a term which is also applied to\nthe customary gift for which children go round and beg on this day. The\nname and the custom are not, however, confined to Scotland, being also\nfound in certain of the northern counties of England (Nhb. Cum. Wm.\nYks.). Much has been written about the history of this word, but beyond\nthe generally accepted statement that it is of French origin, its\nprecise derivation still remains obscure; cp. Norm. dial. _hoquinano_,\n_haguinelo_, cries on New Year\u2019s Eve; _hoguilanno_, a New Year\u2019s gift.\nOn the last day of the year, children go in companies chiefly to the\nhouses of the better class, singing some such rhyme as: Rise up,\ngude-wife, and shake your feathers, Dinna think that we are beggars,\nWe\u2019re girls and boys come out to-day, For to get our Hogmanay, Hogmanay,\ntrol-lol-lay. Give us of your white bread, and not of your grey, Or else\nwe\u2019ll knock at your door a\u2019 day (w.Sc.); or in shorter form: Hogamanay,\nhogamanay, Gi\u2019s wor breed-an\u2019-cheese, an\u2019 set\u2019s away (Nhb.). In earlier\ntimes it was also customary for youths to go round dressed up as\n_guisers_, performing at their neighbours\u2019 houses a Hogmanay masque.\nSometimes they went round just after midnight to enter the houses in the\ncapacity of _first-foot_.\n\n[Sidenote: _New Year\u2019s Day_]\n\nThe superstitious practice of _first-footing_ belongs also to Scotland\nand northern England. The first person who crosses the threshold after\nmidnight on New Year\u2019s Eve is the _first-foot_ or _lucky-bird_, and the\nprosperity or misfortune of the household during the ensuing year\ndepends on what manner of man is then admitted. On no account must the\n_first-foot_ be a woman. In most places the luckiest kind of\n_first-foot_ is a fair-haired man. A man of dark complexion, a\nflat-footed man, or one afflicted with a squint brings bad luck. But in\nsome parts of Yorkshire where the _lucky-bird_ is the first person who\nenters the house on Christmas Day, if it is a dark-haired man who thus\n\u2018lets Christmas in\u2019, he is welcomed as a bringer of good luck, whilst a\nred-haired man is esteemed a harbinger of ill-luck. On the whole, the\nsafest plan was that of engaging some recognized lucky person to\nundertake the office of _first-foot_, instead of leaving the matter in\nthe hands of wayward chance.\n\nAnother old Hogmanay-night custom was that of fetching the\n_ream-water_ (Sc.) from the well. This could only be done by a woman,\nin some places only by a spinster. As soon as the clock had finished\nstriking twelve, some female member of the household would hurry\npitcher in hand to the nearest well, in order to be the first to skim\noff the water lying near the surface and bring it home; for whoever\ncould secure this, the _ream_, _crap_ or _floo\u2019er_ of the water, would\nbring in good fortune for the whole of the year.\n\nA writer in _Notes and Queries_ for Jan. 3, 1852, quotes the following\nsong sung by children in South Wales on New Year\u2019s morning, when\ncarrying a jug full of water newly drawn from the well:\n\n    Here we bring new water\n      From the well so clear,\n    For to worship God with\n      This happy New Year.\n    Sing levez dew, sing levez dew,\n      The water and the wine;\n    The seven bright gold wires\n      And the bugles they do shine.\n\n    Sing reign of Fair Maid\n      With gold upon her toe,\n    Open you the West Door,\n      And let the Old Year go.\n    Sing reign of Fair Maid,\n      With gold upon her chin,\n    Open you the East Door,\n      And let the New Year in.\n\n[Sidenote: _God-cakes, Blessing-cakes_]\n\nAn ancient custom in the city of Coventry is the sending of\n_god-cakes_ on New Year\u2019s Day. The _god-cake_ is a particular kind of\ncake sent by godparents to their godchildren. It varies in price, but\nits shape is invariably triangular, it is about one inch thick, and\nis filled with mincemeat. A similar custom exists in Kidderminster,\nwhere the head of the family sends out packets of _blessing-cakes_\nto the scattered representatives of the original stock, wherever\nthey may be. Each householder who receives a gift of cakes must\nagain distribute them among the members of his household, servants\nincluded, so that every one under his roof may receive the family\nblessing. The cakes are like long oval buns, rather thin, coated on\nthe top with melted sugar, and ornamented with seven sultanas. As my\nfather came from Kidderminster, I have eaten _blessing-cakes_ every\nNew Year\u2019s Day as far back as my memory carries me, but I was never\nclear as to the significance of the seven sultanas. I think they are\nintended to symbolize a sevenfold blessing. The recipe for making the\ncakes is supposed to be a trade secret in the possession of a certain\nconfectioner, though some of us think that the secret has been lost,\nand that the _blessing-cakes_ now savour of the common penny bun\nmixture. But we should never dare to carry the comparison further, for\nfrom our earliest youth we were made to feel it almost a sacrilegious\noffence to call a _blessing-cake_ a bun. After all, it is the sentiment\nthat matters, and that remains good and beautiful.[3]\n\n[3] Mr. J. R. G. Aubrey of the Comberton Bakery, Kidderminster, to whom\nI wrote concerning this custom, kindly furnished me with the following\ninformation: \u2018As far as I know round here the custom is dead or nearly\nso. I make perhaps 300 to 400 ... I think up North the custom is fairly\nbrisk, but they call theirs the Twelfth Cakes. Coventry makes a fair\nquantity.\u2019 July 24, 1912.\n\nA curious New Year ceremony observed in Durham is known as _crowning_.\nThe Mayor and Mayoress visit the Workhouse, and there _crown_ the eldest\nof the inmates by placing a five-shilling piece in each hand.\n\n[Sidenote: _Handsel-Monday_]\n\nThe first Monday in the New Year is called Handsel-Monday (Sc. Irel.\nNhb. Lakel.). Anything which comes into your possession that day, such\nas a child, a calf, a lamb, or money, augurs good luck for the rest of\nthe year. Formerly it was the custom for presents to be given on this\nday by mistresses to servants, and by parents to children. At the\nTrinity House, Newcastle, on Handsel-Monday, every free brother who\nanswers to his name is entitled to five shillings in money, a quarter of\na pound of tobacco, a glass of wine, and as much bread and cheese and\nale as he pleases.\n\n[Sidenote: _Wassailing the Apples_]\n\nThe sixth of January is Twelfth Day, or Old Christmas Day, the church\nfestival of the Epiphany. To this date belongs the ceremony--now nearly\nobsolete--of _wassailing_ the apple-trees (Sus. Som. Dev.), also known\nas _howling_, or _hollering_. In some districts the performance took\nplace on the day itself, and in others on Jan. 5, the Eve of the\nEpiphany. Herrick mentions the custom among _Ceremonies for Christmas_:\n\n    Wassail the trees, that they may bear\n    You many a plum and many a pear;\n    For more or less fruits they will bring\n    As you do give them wassailing.--_Hesperides_, 1648.\n\nBoys called _howlers_ used to go round _wassailing_ the orchards. Within\ndoors, toasted bread and sugar were soaked in new cider and made hot,\npart to be drunk by the farmer\u2019s family and the _howlers_, and part to\nbe poured upon the best bearing apple-tree. The tree was then encircled\nby the _wassailers_, singing a special song. Mrs. Hewitt describes the\nceremony thus: \u2018On Old Christmas Eve it is customary for farmers to pour\nlarge quantities of cyder on the roots of the primest apple-trees in the\norchard, and to place toast sops on the branches, all the while singing\nthe following:\n\n    Yer\u2019s t\u00fc thee, old apple-tree,\n    Be zure y\u00fc bud, be zure y\u00fc blaw,\n    And bring voth apples g\u00fcde enough,\n        Hats vul! Caps vul!\n    Dree-bushel bags vul,\n    Pockets vul and awl!\n        Urrah! Urrah!\n    Aw \u2019ess, hats vul, caps vul,\n    And dree-bushel bags vul,\n        Urrah! Urrah!\n\nWhen enough of this serenading has been accomplished, guns are fired\ninto the branches,\u2019 _Peasant Speech of Devon_, 2nd edit. 1892.\n\n[Sidenote: _Plough Monday_]\n\nThe first Monday after Twelfth Day is Plough Monday, once celebrated\nthroughout the greater part of England. A company of men wearing white\nshirts over their jackets, decorated with ribbons, drew a plough through\nthe village or town. They were variously designated in different\nlocalities as: _Plough-bullocks_, or _-bullockers_, _Plough-jags_,\n_Plough-slots_, and _Plough-witchers_. Among them were usually two\nspecial characters, the Fool, and a man dressed up in showy female\ncostume called the Bessy; but in some places there were two, and even\nfour female characters with names such as Sweet Sis, Old Joan, Maid\nMarian, or collectively named Bessybabs, Ladymadams, Queens. This\ntroupe performed some kind of morris-dance or sword-dance, and collected\nmoney from the onlookers. Gradually the old ceremonies fell into disuse,\nthe plough no longer appeared in the procession, and instead of the\noriginal ploughmen, a band of children paraded the streets to keep up\nthe memory of Plough Monday, a day which Tusser includes among the\n\u2018ploughmans feasting daies\u2019, which no good housewife should forget:\n\n    Good huswiues, whom God hath enriched ynough,\n      forget not the feastes that belong to the plough.\n    The meaning is onelie to ioie and be glad,\n      for comfort with labour is fit to be had.\n\nThe _Daily Mail_ of Nov. 16, 1897, mentions the observance of Plough\nMonday in Warwickshire at that date; and three years later the\n_Standard_ of Oct. 11, 1900, has: \u2018\u201cPlough Monday\u201d is still kept up by\nchildren and \u201chobbledehoys\u201d, who go round with blackened faces, and\nribbons, &c., in their hats, expecting that the heads of the houses\nvisited will \u201cRemember the ploughboys\u201d, though it is questionable if the\nparty are now following the plough.\u2019\n\nA convivial custom in Cornwall gives the name of Paul Pitcher\u2019s Day to\nJan. 24, the Eve of the Conversion of St. Paul, a day observed as a\nminers\u2019 holiday. A water-pitcher is set up and pelted with stones till\nit is broken to pieces. A new one is then bought and carried to a\npublic-house by the stone-throwing miners, to be filled and refilled\nwith beer till the whole company is drunk. On the other hand, some\npeople say that the name Paul Pitcher\u2019s Day originates with the custom\nof throwing broken pitchers against the doors of dwelling-houses.\nParties of lads used to go round to the different houses, shouting as\nthey threw the sherds: Paul\u2019s Eve, and here\u2019s a heave. A mischievous\ngame similar to certain Shrove Tuesday pastimes.\n\nCandlemas Day, February 2, the festival of the Purification of the\nBlessed Virgin Mary, was reckoned the termination of the Christmas\nseason. Herrick wrote: \u2018End now the white loaf and the pie, And let all\nsports with Christmas die.\u2019 The same poet also tells us that all the\nChristmas evergreens used for decorations must be taken down on\nCandlemas Eve. This custom was observed in Shropshire houses and\nchurches within the last thirty years, if not still later. At this date,\naccording to a common proverb: gooid geese all lay; New Candlemas Day,\ngood goose will lay, Old Candlemas Day any goose will lay. There is a\nsaying in Kent: Candlemas Day, Half your fodder and half your hay,\nmeaning that the winter is only then half gone, and you ought not to\nhave exhausted more than half the keep for the cattle. The same saying\nis also associated with Valentine\u2019s Day. Old folks used to say that so\nfar as the sun shone into the house on Candlemas Day, so far would the\nsnow drive in before the winter was out (Sur.).\n\n[Sidenote: _Valentine\u2019s Day_]\n\nOld Candlemas Day is February 14, better known as Valentine\u2019s Day. The\ncustom of writing and of sending valentines is out of fashion, and there\nremains little to mark the day. In some country places it is still said\nthat the first man you meet in the morning is your valentine; and it is\na common saying that the birds on this day select their mates for\nnesting. Formerly it was customary for parties of children to _go\nvalentining_ (Nhp. Rut.). They went from house to house singing and\nbegging, their song being usually a form of salutation, differing\nslightly in different localities: Good morrow, Valentine! Plaze to give\nme a Valentine, I\u2019ll be yourn, if ye\u2019ll be mine, Good morrow,\nValentine!; or, Morrow, morrow, Valentine! First \u2019tis yours, and then\n\u2019tis mine, So please to give me a Valentine, Holly and ivy tickle my\ntoe, Give me red apple and let me go. In Berkshire the following words\nwere sung:\n\n    Knock the kittle agin the pan,\n    Gie us a penny if \u2019e can;\n    We be ragged an\u2019 you be vine,\n    Plaze to gie us a Valentine.\n    Up wi\u2019 the kittle, down wi\u2019 the spout,\n    Gie us a penny an\u2019 we\u2019ll gie out [cease].\n\nIn the northern part of Northamptonshire sweet currant buns were\nformerly made called _Valentine buns_, and given by godparents to their\ngodchildren on the Sunday preceding and the Sunday following Valentine\u2019s\nDay. A like custom once prevailed in Rutland, where a lozenge-shaped bun\ncalled a _Shittle_ was given to children and old people on Valentine\u2019s\nDay.\n\nFor the farmer, Valentine\u2019s Day means that half your firing and half\nyour hay is already consumed. In Rutland there is an old saying:\nValentine\u2019s Day, sow your beans in the clay. David [Mch. 1] and Chad\n[Mch. 2], sow your beans be the weather good or bad. Then comes Benedick\n[Mch. 21], if you ain\u2019t sowed your beans you may keep \u2019em in the rick.\n\n[Sidenote: _Sports at Shrovetide_]\n\nShrovetide in olden days was a season of sport and feasting, the\noccasion for a final burst of jollity before the beginning of Lent. As\nthe name records, it was originally a time for confession and absolution\nin preparation for the Lenten Fast, whence also the name _Gooddit_ (Lan.\nChs. Stf. Der.), a corruption of _Good-tide_. Shrove Tuesday is Fasten\u2019s\nE\u2019en (Sc. n.Cy. n.Midl.), the Eve of the great Fast of the\necclesiastical year. There still remain in some districts traces of the\nformer carnival gaieties, whilst the popular eating of pancakes on\nShrove Tuesday keeps up the memory of the ancient feasting. The day\nbefore Shrove Tuesday is Collop Monday (n.Cy.), that is, rasher-of-bacon\nMonday, so called because the customary dish for this day is bacon and\neggs. In parts of Cornwall it is known as Pease-Monday, from the custom\nof eating pea-soup that day, though such fare would seem rather to be a\nforetaste of Lent than a festival dainty.\n\nChief among the Shrovetide sports which have lasted down to modern\ntimes is the well-known pastime called _Lent-crocking_ (Som. Dev.\nWil. Dor.), or _Drowin\u2019 o\u2019 cloam_, which consists in throwing broken\ncrockery-ware in at doorways on the night before Shrove Tuesday, known\nas Dappy-door-night, and Lentsherd-night. _Lead-birds_ (Pem.) is a game\nplayed by boys as a substitute for the obsolete _cock-throwing_, a\nbarbarous old Shrovetide sport, which is perhaps further to be traced\nin the name _Lent-cocks_ (Dev.) for daffodils. In the old Grammar\nSchools it was customary for each scholar to contribute towards a\nfund for Shrovetide cock-fighting. This contribution was called the\n_cock-penny_ (Lakel. Yks. Lan.), and it continued to be a recognized\nfee paid to the Head Master long after the sport itself had died out.\nShrovetide ball-games still survive, such as _bung-ball_ (Bdf.); and\n_kep-ball_, the game of catch-ball which gives the name Kepping-day\n(e.Yks.) to Shrove Tuesday. There is an old saying: if you don\u2019t have a\nkepp on kepping-day, you\u2019ll be sick in harvest.\n\nThe bell once rung before noon on Shrove Tuesday to summon the\npenitents to their shrift, came to be looked upon as a signal for\npreparing the day\u2019s pancakes, and hence it was termed the Pancake\nbell. The practice of ringing this bell continued certainly into the\nlast quarter of the nineteenth century. In Worcestershire the Pancake\nbell was said to ring out the words: Pot off, pan on; Pot off, pan on;\nwhilst in Warwickshire the message rung out was: Pan\u2019s a-burning; Pan\u2019s\na-burning. In Yorkshire a kind of pancake or fritter with currants in\nit is eaten on Ash-Wednesday, and the day is called Frutters\u2019 Wednesday.\n\n[Sidenote: _Lenten Customs_]\n\nIn parts of Cornwall a straw figure dressed in cast-off clothes and\ncalled Jack o\u2019 Lent was formerly carried round and then burned at the\nbeginning of Lent. The effigy was probably originally meant to represent\nJudas Iscariot. Now the term is applied to a scarecrow, and, as a\ncontemptuous epithet, also to persons (Nhp. Dor.).\n\nThe Sundays in Lent, beginning with the second Sunday, are thus\nenumerated in an old north-country saying: Tid, Mid, Misera, Carlin,\nPalm, Pace egg day. It is supposed that _Tid_ is a corruption of _Te\nDeum_, and that _Misera_ is based on the opening words of the\npenitential Psalm _Miserere mei, Deus_. The fourth Sunday in Lent is,\nhowever, more generally known as Mothering Sunday, the day on which it\nwas always customary for the scattered members of the family to visit\nthe mother in the old home, carrying some small present for her in\ntheir hands. Special cakes and dishes were associated with this\nfestival, the most popular being simnel cakes, and _frummety_, a dish\nmade of _hulled_ wheat, boiled in milk, and seasoned with sugar and\nspice. In some places the usual fare was veal and rice pudding; and in\nothers _fig-pie_--made of dried figs, sugar, treacle, and spice--was the\nstanding dish. In Berkshire at the present time it is considered the\nproper thing to eat fig-pudding on Palm Sunday.\n\nCarl Sunday, or Carling Sunday (Sc. n.Cy.), takes its name from the\ngrey or brown peas prepared and eaten on this day. They must be steeped\nall night in water, and then fried in butter. To account for this usage\none tradition states that it commemorates the action of the disciples,\nwho, going through the corn fields on the Sabbath day, \u2018plucked the\ncars of corn, and did eat, rubbing them in their hands,\u2019 _St. Luke_\nvi. 1; whilst a second associates it with a famine in Newcastle, which\nwas relieved by the arrival of a ship bearing a cargo of grey peas or\n_carlings_.\n\n[Sidenote: _Palm Sunday_]\n\nOn Palm Sunday village churches used to be decorated with the\ncatkin-laden twigs of the common sallow, or, as in Kent, with branches\nof yew, according to the local interpretation of the word _palm_. _Going\na-palming_ (Ken.) meant gathering yew twigs on the Saturday before Palm\nSunday for this purpose. In some s.Midland counties Palm Sunday is known\nas Fig Sunday, dried figs being largely consumed on this day. The\nprobable explanation of this practice lies in the fact that in the\nGospel narrative the cursing of the barren fig-tree is the first\nrecorded incident of the day following that of the triumphal entry into\nJerusalem, cp. _St. Mark_ xi. 12-14, with the result that in the popular\nmind the events of two days were merged together, and the fig was\nadopted as an appropriate part of the Palm Sunday festival.\n\n[Sidenote: _Good Friday_]\n\nAn old Cheshire name for Good Friday is _Care Friday_, a preservation\nof the original meaning of the word _care_, O.E. _caru_, sorrow,\ntrouble; cp. Germ. _Karfreitag_, Good Friday. In Lancashire it was\ntermed Long Friday, and also Crackling Friday, from a special kind\nof wheaten cake given to children on this day. The custom of eating\nHot Cross buns is common even in towns, though probably nobody now\npreserves them throughout the year as a specific against diarrhoea.\nUp to the middle of last century people afflicted with eye-diseases\nused on Good Friday to visit St. Margaret\u2019s Well, near Wellington, in\nShropshire, a stone cistern containing spring water which was supposed\non this day to possess eye-healing virtues. A Good Friday sport called\n_cock-kibbit_, practised in parts of Devonshire by boys, would seem to\nbe a kind of survival of the old Shrove Tuesday _cock-throwing_. A live\ncock is put under an inverted earthenware milk-pan, and then cudgels\nor _kibbits_ are thrown at the pan from a fixed distance until the pan\nis broken and the cock thus released. The cock is then chased by the\nwhole company, and it becomes the joint property of its captor and the\nbreaker of the milk-pan.\n\nThe custom amongst farmers of sowing and planting on Good Friday to\nensure lucky crops we have already noticed in a previous chapter. For\nthe sowing of onion seed, however, a still more propitious day is March\n12, the Feast of St. Gregory.\n\nThe day after Good Friday was formerly known in East Anglia as Shitten\nSaturday, that is Shut-in-Saturday, the day on which the body of the\nLord lay shut in the tomb.\n\n[Sidenote: _Pace-eggs_]\n\nEastertide is marked in the northern counties of England by the custom\nof _Pace-egging_. The phrase itself is interesting, for we have in it\nthe preservation of the Latin name beside our English _Easter_, cp.\nM.Lat. _pascha_, the feast of the passover. The form _Pace_ or _Paas_ is\nfound in English literature as far back as the early fifteenth century.\nDuring Holy Week children, and sometimes grown-up persons too, go round\nto the farmhouses begging for _Pace-eggs_. Some of the eggs are used for\nspecial Easter Day cakes and custards, but the _Pace-egg_ proper is\nstained and hard-boiled like the German _Oster-Ei_. On Easter Monday\nthese coloured eggs are trundled or rolled against each other till they\nare broken, when they are eaten, and hence Easter Monday is termed\nTroll-egg-day. Another form of this game is known as _jauping\npaste-eggs_. One boy holds his egg, exposing the small end, and the\n_jauper_, or striker, knocks the end of his egg against it. The egg\nremaining unbroken is the conqueror, and the broken egg is forfeited.\nOccasionally one or two _Pace-eggs_ are kept as ornaments. One such,\nstained pink, and inscribed with a child\u2019s name, and the date, ranked\namong the ornaments on the parlour shelf in the Yorkshire farmhouse\nwhere we were staying this August (1912). In the days when mumming was\nstill popular, the play of St. George was performed at Easter by mummers\nwho called themselves _Pace-eggers_. No doubt originally they collected\nEaster eggs on their rounds; indeed, a writer on Lancashire customs says\nthe company included a personage styled Dirty Bet, whose duty it was to\ncarry a basket for the collection of eggs, but usually they played for\nmoney only, so that _Pace-egging_ came to be synonymous with mumming. A\nLakeland play began with an introductory verse as follows:\n\n    The first that comes in is Lord Nelson, you see,\n    He\u2019s a bunch of blue ribbons tied round on his knee,\n    A star on his breast, like silver it shines,\n    Ah hope you\u2019ll remember it\u2019s piase-eggin\u2019 times.\n\nAn Easter custom once very common in Cheshire, Lancashire, and the\nMidlands is variously termed _Heaving_, _Hoisting_, and _Lifting_.\nParties of men went round from house to house on Easter Monday carrying\na chair decorated with evergreens, flowers, and ribbons. Wherever they\ncame, they seized in turn every woman of the household, and made her sit\nin the chair, which they then raised as high in the air as arms could\nreach, three times in succession. On Easter Tuesday the women returned\nthe compliment to the men. A small fee was often paid by the lifted to\nthe lifters. Folklorists tell us that this strange practice was\noriginally designed to typify the Resurrection.\n\n[Sidenote: _Easter-Day Observances_]\n\nThe prevalent practice of wearing some new article of clothing for the\nfirst time on Easter Day is not confined to any particular district but\nmay be met with anywhere. A Lincolnshire name for Easter Day is\nCrow-Sunday, from the belief that rooks let fall their droppings on\nthose that wear nothing new on that day.\n\n_Herb-pudding_ (Nhb. Cum. Wm. Yks.) is a dish peculiar to Easter Day.\nIt is made of the leaves of the bistort, _Polygonum Bistorta_--the\nso-called Easter-giants, or Easter-magiants--boiled in broth with\nbarley, chives, &c., and served as an accompaniment to veal and bacon.\n\nThe old tradition that the sun rises dancing on Easter morning, which\nwe remember because of Suckling\u2019s allusion to it in the lines:\n\n    But oh! she dances such a way!\n    No sun upon an Easter-day\n        Is half so fine a sight----\n\nhas been found lingering in some parts of the country. At the beginning\nof the second half of the nineteenth century there were still some\npeople who would get up early on Easter Day and go out into the fields\nto see the sun dance. The Rev. R. H. Cobbold, Rector of Ross, wrote on\nOctober 13, 1879: \u2018In the district called Hockley, in the parish of\nBroseley, a woman whose maiden name was Evans, wife of Rowland Lloyd, a\nlabourer, said she had heard of the thing but did not believe it true,\n\u201ctill,\u201d she said, \u201con Easter morning last, I got up early, and then I\nsaw the sun dance, and dance, and dance, three times, and I called to my\nhusband and said, Rowland, Rowland, get up and see the sun dance! I\nused,\u201d she said, \u201cnot to believe it, but now I can never doubt more.\u201d\nThe neighbours agreed with her that the sun did dance on Easter morning,\nand some of them had seen it,\u2019 _Shropshire Folk-Lore_, p. 335. According\nto a Sussex version the sun always dances on Easter morning, but nobody\nhas ever seen it because the Devil is so cunning that he always puts a\nhill in the way to hide it. Although Sir Thomas Browne included this\ntradition in his lists of _Vulgar Errors_, he evidently felt that belief\nin it was an outgrowth of popular religious feeling, and that as such it\nmust be handled with reverence: \u2018We shall not, I hope, disparage the\nresurrection of our Redeemer, if we say the sun does not dance on\nEaster-day. And though we would willingly assent unto any sympathetical\nexultation, yet cannot conceive therein any more than a tropical\nexpression,\u2019 _Vulgar Errors_, Bk. V, Chap. XXIII. 14.\n\n[Sidenote: _May-day Sports_]\n\nUp to the middle of the nineteenth century the Eve of May-day was in\nsome northern districts known as Mischief-night, when rough practical\njokes were played by boys upon their neighbours, gates were pulled off\ntheir hinges, and hung up in trees, tubs and mops left out of doors were\ncarried off and left in some inaccessible place, and other property was\nwantonly damaged.\n\nThe original May-day sports and observances have long been dead and\ngone, leaving only scattered traces few and far between, but at the\npresent time great efforts are being made to revive the old folk-songs,\ndances, and mumming-plays, and children are being taught in Board\nSchools how to celebrate May-day with the traditional songs,\nprocessions, and flowers; so that we have consequently to beware of\nmistaking a revival for a survival. The May-garland would seem, however,\nto be a genuine relic of the past. As seen in Oxford, it is formed of\ntwo willow hoops, placed transversely, and decorated with leaves and\nwild flowers. It is suspended from a stick, which is held at each end by\na child, and carried thus from house to house on May morning. The\nJack-in-the-green, very common twenty or twenty-five years ago, was a\nchimney-sweep enclosed in a frame of green leaves shaped like a bower,\nwho paraded the streets on May-day. He is still occasionally to be seen.\nI myself saw one in Oxford in 1909. The name also lingers on in\nfigurative use as an expression of contempt, e.g. He looked for all the\nworld like a Jack-in-the-green. A Bedfordshire term for a scarecrow or a\nslattern is _moggy_, a name which bears a reminiscence of the _maying_\ncompany which consisted of: my lord and my lady, two moggys and a merry\nAnder. The _moggy_ always carried a ladle.\n\nTo remind us of the revelry of May-day there is the custom among boys\nof making _May-music_ with _May-horns_ (Oxf. Brks. Cor.), or whistles\nmade out of sycamore or willow twigs; cp. \u2018Scores of youngsters, as\nusual, celebrated the advent of the month of flowers in their own\npeculiar way by creating a most hideous row with their May-horns,\u2019\n_Oxford Times_, May 5, 1900; and further, the use of the term\n_may-games_ (Som. Dev. Cor.) for frolics, tricks, &c. In Cornwall, a\nhalf-witted person is sometimes spoken of as a _may-game_.\n\n[Sidenote: _Beating the Bounds_]\n\nNear the beginning of May come the Rogation days, the Monday, Tuesday,\nand Wednesday before Ascension-day, or Holy Thursday. These days are\nmarked in the popular mind by the ancient and well-known custom of\nbeating the parish bounds, whence arose the now obsolete name of\nGang-days (n.Cy.), and the name Rammalation-day (Yks.), i.e.\nPerambulation-day, for Rogation Monday. The practice is also called\nProcessioning (Midl. Som.), and Possessioning (Nhp.). Among dialect\nnames for the milkwort are: Rogation Flower, Gang Flower, and Procession\nFlower, showing that it was formerly much used in making the garlands\ncarried on these occasions. The reason why this perambulation of the\nparish boundaries takes place at Rogationtide seems to be that\noriginally it was purely a religious observance, a procession of priest\nand people through the fields to pray for a fruitful spring-time and\nharvest. In course of time the secular object of familiarizing the\ngrowing generation with their parish landmarks gained the upper hand,\nbut the date remained as testimony to the primary devotional character\nof the custom. Another remnant of the religious side may be traced in\nthe term Gospel Tree, applied to some tree where the Gospel was read\naloud by the clergy on the occasion of these parochial perambulations.\n\nIt would seem, however, that recently some of the High Church clergy\nhave begun to revive in some form the old ceremonial processions. The\nfollowing paragraph appeared in the _Church Times_ of May 2, 1918, under\nthe heading Sheffield: \u2018The Rogation procession, revived last year at\nSt. Matthew\u2019s, again took place this year; a perambulation of the\nparish was made, incense, lights, and the beautiful silver crucifix were\nused, and the vicar in cope intoned the Litany. The choir and a good\nnumber of communicants of both sexes took part, and the Rogation Mass\nwas afterwards sung in church. Another procession, with hymns and short\naddresses at various stations, was announced for Tuesday evening.\u2019\nSimilar processions were also made here in Oxford at the same date.\n\n[Sidenote: _Whitsuntide Feasts_]\n\nIn former times, the season of Whitsuntide brought round another\nparochial custom, namely, the holding of the _Whitsun-ale_ (Lin. Nhp.\nOxf. Hmp.). This was a village feast which, while it provided amusement\nfor the parishioners in the shape of sports and dancing, was also at the\nsame time made by the churchwardens a means of bringing in money to the\nparish coffers for the maintenance of the church. In Oxfordshire a\nsimilar festivity was known as a _Lamb-ale_, and with it was associated\nthe following sport: a fat lamb was chased by girls with tied hands; she\nwho caught the lamb with her teeth was styled Lady of the Lamb, and was\nconducted home with her prize in a triumphal procession. The next day\nthe lamb was cooked and served up to the Lady and her companions.\n\nThirty years ago it was still customary in some west Midland districts\nto decorate village churches on Whit Sunday with sprigs of birch stuck\nin holes bored in the tops of the pews. I can remember this being done\nby an old parish clerk in Herefordshire, but when he was gathered to his\nfathers in the same profession, the custom died with him.\n\nThe north-country _Rush-bearing_ is an annual ceremony which usually\ntakes place concurrently with the village Wakes. It has come down from\nthe days when the bare earthen floors of churches and chapels were\nstrewn with rushes as their only covering. The parishioners assembled on\nsome special day, and went out to collect the rushes, which were then\npiled on a gaily decorated cart, and brought back through the village to\nthe accompaniment of music and dancing. The custom has in many places\nnow fallen into disuse, but it is still kept up in Westmorland. Nowadays\nthe procession is formed of children who carry garlands and emblems made\nof rushes and flowers, and entering the church they lay them along the\naisles. The rush-bearing festival at Grasmere takes place on the\nSaturday next after St. Oswald\u2019s Day, August 5, and the following Sunday\nand Monday. A very interesting account of it entitled \u2018Rush-bearing at\nGrasmere\u2019, appeared in _The Outlook_ of August 13, 1910. No doubt it is\nthe connexion with Wordsworth which has prolonged the life of this\nparticular custom, and spread its fame far beyond the country of its\nbirth. It is not given to all our ancient rural festivals to receive a\n\u2018tributary lay\u2019 from an immortal poet.\n\n[Sidenote: _Michaelmas and Halloween_]\n\nPassing through the village of Cuddesdon on October 11, 1912, I met\ntwo or three big farm wagons going to the hamlet of Denton, loaded with\nwhat was evidently a farm-labourer\u2019s household stuff. On the top of the\nlast wagon, wedged in securely amongst bedding and chairs, were four or\nfive children, merry little people, obviously enjoying the ride through\ncountry lanes on a warm, sunny afternoon. My companion who lived in\nthe village remarked to me, \u2018You see how Michaelmas Day is kept here\naccording to the Old Style. They always make their Michaelmas moves\nto-day.\u2019\n\nOctober 31 is Halloween (Sc. n.Cy.), the Eve of All Saints\u2019 Day, a\nnight specially devoted to love-divination ceremonies, and other\nsuperstitious customs such as we have noticed in a previous chapter.\nThe game of _hanch-apple_ (Cum. Lan.) is a favourite Halloween pastime,\nso much so that in some districts Hanchin\u2019-neet is another name for\nHalloween. The game consists in biting at an apple floating in water,\nor suspended by a cord.\n\nIn parts of Ireland a dish called _colcannon_, made of potatoes and\ncabbage mashed together with butter, used to form part of the Halloween\ndinner. In it was concealed a ring, the finder whereof would be the\nfirst of the company to be married. In St. John\u2019s, Newfoundland, the\npopular name for Halloween is Colcannon-night, so named because\ncolcannon is generally eaten then.\n\n[Sidenote: _All Souls and All Saints_]\n\nNovember 2 is the Roman Catholic festival of All Souls, the day on\nwhich the Church of Rome makes supplications for the souls of the\nfaithful departed. The ancient custom of going out _souling_ on this\nday was preserved in the n.Midland counties well into the second half\nof last century. Poor women, or companies of children, used to go round\nto the houses of their wealthier neighbours singing certain doggerel\nlines, and begging for gifts of cakes, apples, money, &c., &c. In some\ndistricts this was done on All Saints\u2019 Day, the Eve of All Souls, and\nin others on All Souls\u2019 Day itself. Formerly special cakes called\n_soul-cakes_ were baked by housekeepers in readiness for the _soulers_,\nbut biscuits, apples, nuts--anything in fact given in response to their\nrequest--would be accepted under the name of _soul-cakes_. There are\nvarious versions of the traditional _souling-song_. This is a Cheshire\nversion: Soul, soul, a apple or two; If ye han noo apples, pears \u2019un\ndo; Please, good Missis, a soul-cake; Put yur hand t\u2019yur pocket, Tak\u2019\nait yur keys, Go dain i\u2019 yur cellar, Bring what yo please, A apple, a\npear, A plum, or a cherry, Or any good thing That\u2019ll make us all merry.\nOr again, there is the simple cry: A cake, a cake, For All Souls\u2019 sake\n(Der.).\n\n[Sidenote: _St. Clement, St. Andrew, St. Thomas_]\n\nSimilar customs belonging to November 23, St. Clement\u2019s Day, and to\nNovember 25, St. Catherine\u2019s Day, were kept up in some s.Midland\ncounties. Children went from house to house singing verses and begging\nfor apples and pence, a practice known as _Catterning and Clemmening_\n(War. Wor. Stf. Sus.). A Worcestershire version of the Cattern Day song\nruns: Catten and Clemen come year by year; Some of your apples and some\nof your beer! Some for Peter, some for Paul, Some for Him as made us\nall. Clement was a good old man, For his sake give us some. Plum, plum,\ncherry, cherry, Give us good ale to make us merry, Apples to roast and\nnuts to crack, And a barrel of cider on the tap. Up the ladder and down\nthe can, Give us a red apple and we\u2019ll be gone. The following is a\nWarwickshire _Clementing_ rhyme: Clemancing, clemancing, year by year,\nApples and pears are very good cheer; One for Peter, two for Paul, And\nthree for the Man that made us all. Up with your stocking, and down with\nyour shoe; If you\u2019ve got no apples, money\u2019ll do. Clement was a good old\nman, For his sake give us some; None of the worst, but some of the best.\nI pray God send your soul to rest. This closely resembles some of the\nsouling-songs, in which the couplet: One for Peter, &c., also occurs\nword for word the same.\n\nSt. Clement is the blacksmiths\u2019 patron saint, and in parts of Sussex\nblacksmiths used to hold a feast on November 23 in his honour. Over the\ndoor of the inn where the feast took place a figure dressed up with a\nwig, a beard, and a pipe, was set up, and called Old Clem. In Surrey it\nwas customary to _fire the anvil_ on St. Clement\u2019s Day. This was done by\nsetting light to a charge of gunpowder placed beneath a wooden plug or\nwedge driven into a hole in the top of the anvil.\n\nNovember 30 is St. Andrew\u2019s Day. In Bedfordshire and Buckinghamshire\nspecial cakes were formerly eaten on this day, called _Tandrew cakes_,\n_Tandry cakes_, and _Tandry wigs_. They were plain dough cakes or buns\nornamented with currants and caraway seeds, made in honour of St.\nAndrew, the patron saint of lace-makers. But since the lace trade has\nbecome less profitable, to _keep Tandry_, i.e. to keep the festival of\nSt. Andrew, in this way has become less common.\n\nBricklayers in Sussex used to _go St. Andring_. This meant that they\nwent in gangs to the woods, and threw sticks at squirrels and game.\nAfterwards they all repaired to the inn to drink, the squirrels being\ncarried home to be stuffed or eaten.\n\nTo December 21, the festival of St. Thomas, belongs the old custom\nknown as going _a-gooding_, _a-mumping_, or _a-Thomasing_, a practice\nonce common all over England from Cheshire and Yorkshire to East Anglia\nand Cornwall. In some places it has been preserved up to quite modern\ntimes. To go _a-gooding_ means to go from house to house on St. Thomas\u2019\nDay begging for money or gifts in kind wherewith to furnish the\nChristmas table. This was generally done by poor widows, but also often\nby people who would never think of begging at any other time of year.\nFormerly every farmer set aside a sack of corn for the _mumpers_, some\nof them needy widows, some of them married women with their families,\nwives of the holders of cottages on the farm. These all went to receive\neach a dole of corn. In course of time the doles given took the form of\nmoney and food, including perhaps a pint of wheat for making frumenty.\nAn old _Thomasing_ rhyme runs thus: Well-a-day, well-a-day, St. Thomas\ngoes too soon away, Then your gooding we do pray, For the good time\nwill not stay. St. Thomas grey, St. Thomas grey, The longest night and\nthe shortest day, Please to remember St. Thomas Day (Stf.). In these\nlatter days children go _a-Thomasing_ for halfpence, singing hymns\ninstead of the old traditional begging rhymes.\n\n[Sidenote: _Customs on Christmas Eve_]\n\nChristmas is everywhere the most popular festival of the whole year,\ncombining as it does the religious and social sides of life in a way\nnone of the other ecclesiastical Holy-days do. The Church with its\nmessage of \u2018Peace on earth, goodwill towards men\u2019, as it were, comes\ndown and takes the hand of the people and says let us unite together to\ncelebrate the mystery of family life at the altar of the home. Hence it\nappeals more forcibly than any other festival to young and old, rich and\npoor, town-dweller and country rustic, without distinction of creed or\nclass. Owing to this universal popularity, many of the old Christmas\ncustoms are yet with us, and most of those which are dying or dead are\nkept before our minds by writers of Christmas stories, and illustrators\nof _Christmas Numbers_.\n\n[Sidenote: _Mummings and Wassailing_]\n\nChristmas Eve was the great night for the mummers who acted the play\nof St. George and the Dragon; or again, there were men and boys who\ncarried round a wooden figure representing a horse\u2019s head, the mouth of\nwhich was made to open and shut by means of a string. Sometimes it was\nthe skull of a dead horse, decorated with ribbons, and supported on a\npole by a man concealed under a sheet. This figure was called Old Hob\n(Chs.), Mari Lwyd or Merry Hewid (Wal.), and in Kent the performance\nwas known as _Hodening_. In some northern counties the mummers were\ntermed _guisers_, and in Sussex and Hampshire, _tipteerers_, or\n_tip-teariers_. The children used to go _a-wassailing_ carrying a\ndecorated bough, or a garland which they called a _wessel-bob_, and\nsinging doggerel verses such as: Here we come a-wassailing, Among\nthe leaves so green; Here we come a-singing, So fair to be seen.\nThe _vessel-cup_, or _bezzle-cup_--both words being corruptions of\n_wassail-cup_, due to popular etymology--was a box containing two\ndolls representing the Virgin and Child, carried round by women or by\nchildren who sang this carol: God bless the maysther of this hoose, The\nmistheress also; An\u2019 all the lahtle intepunks, That round the table go\n(Yks.).\n\nThere are some still living who can remember the time when people went\nout at midnight on Christmas Eve to the cow-byre to see the _owsen_\nkneeling in their stalls in adoration of the Heavenly Babe.\n\nA quaint custom at Dewsbury in Yorkshire is the ringing of the\n_Devil\u2019s knell_ on Christmas Eve. The bells toll first a hundred\nstrokes, then a pause, then three strokes, three strokes, and three\nstrokes again, to signify that the Devil died when Christ was born.\n\nIt is still customary in the West Riding of Yorkshire to eat\n_spice-cake_ at Christmas time. It is a rich cake containing currants,\nsultanas, spices and candied peel, made only at this season of the year,\nand eaten together with cheese. In Northumberland and Durham children\nare given a cake called a _Yule-babby_, or _Yule-dough_, a figure made\nin ginger-bread or dough, rolled out flat, and cut out with a head, arms\nand body. The arms are folded across, and two currants put in for eyes.\nIn Shrewsbury and the neighbourhood it was customary to eat _wigs_ or\ncaraway buns dipped in ale for supper on Christmas Eve. An East Anglian\nChristmas cake is the _kickel_, a flat triangular cake with currants and\nsugar on the top, O.E. _coecil_, tortum, M.E. _kechil_, Chauc.\n_Somnours Tale_, l. 39. A very favourite Christmas dish in the north of\nEngland is--or used to be--_frummety_, a preparation of wheat which is\n_creed_ or softened in the oven, and then boiled in milk, sweetened and\nflavoured with spice. In some districts it is eaten with plum loaf and\ncheese.\n\n[Sidenote: _Wren-hunting on Christmas Day_]\n\nWren-hunting was formerly a Christmas Day practice in Ireland. The\nfollowing day, St. Stephen\u2019s Day, the slaughtered birds tied to a bush\ndecked with ribbons, were carried round by young lads, called\n_wren-boys_, who begged for money, and sang a song, one version of which\nbegins thus: The wran, the wran, the king of all birds, St. Stephen\u2019s\nDay is caught in the furze; Although he is little his family is\ngreat--Rise up, landlady, and give us a trate. Various legends are told\nin explanation of the origin of this custom. According to one story, the\nJews were searching for St. Stephen, when his hiding-place was betrayed\nto them by the noisy cries of a couple of wrens flying in and out of a\nfurze-bush where the saint lay concealed. The custom has also been found\nin the Isle of Man, Wales, and parts of England, the song varying in\ndifferent localities, and in some places the wren being carried round on\nTwelfth Day instead of on St. Stephen\u2019s Day.\n\nDecember 28 is Holy Innocents\u2019 Day, popularly called Childermas Day.\nIn many parts of England, notably the northern counties and Cornwall,\nthis day has always been regarded as unlucky. People would refrain from\nstarting on a journey, or beginning a new undertaking, and housewives\nwould even forbear to wash clothes on this day. Indeed so forceful is\nits evil influence that the day of the week on which it fell was marked\nas a black one throughout the ensuing year (Yks.). Dr. Johnson gives\nthis superstitious belief in his definition of Childermas Day: \u2018The day\nof the week, throughout the year, answering to the day on which the\nfeast of the holy Innocents is solemnized, which weak and superstitious\npersons think an unlucky day.\u2019\n\n[Sidenote: _Fairs, Feasts, and Wakes_]\n\nAmongst the customs connected with corporate village life must be\nincluded the observance of the local carnival variously termed the\nFeast, Revel, Tide, Wake, &c., coupled with the name of the village, or\nwith that of the patron Saint of the parish church, as, for instance,\nSt. Giles\u2019 Fair and St. Clement\u2019s Fair here in Oxford. The Feast is\ngenerally held on or about the name-day of the Saint to whom the church\nis dedicated, or on the anniversary of the church opening or\nconsecration. It is everywhere the great gathering time for distant\nfriends and relations; the one important event of the year from which\nall dates are reckoned, e.g. \u2019Twill be a year cum next Heetown Wake. In\nthe north of England the mills and workshops close during the Tide; all\nis holiday-mirth and hospitality. People will pinch and scrape for weeks\nbeforehand in order to be able to afford a goodly joint of Tide-beef, or\nWake-beef, to provide which herds of fat oxen have been slain in\nreadiness; and every good housewife prepares a store of cakes, tarts,\npies, and pasties. Tusser felt the importance of this housewifely baking\nwhen he wrote his lines on _The Wake day_:\n\n    Fill ouen full of flawnes [custards baked in paste], Ginnie,\n        passe not for sleepe,\n    to morow thy father his wake day will keepe.\n\nA certain sort of wake-cake in Staffordshire has passed into a proverb.\nAs short as Marchington wake-cake is applied figuratively to a woman\u2019s\ntemper!\n\n[Sidenote: _Mops or Hiring Fairs_]\n\nBeside the purely merry-making fairs were the Hiring, or Statute\nfairs, held usually in the autumn, often about Martinmas, Nov. 11; but\nthese, too, have mostly developed into pleasure fairs. The young men\nand girls who came to seek places as farm-labourers and maid-servants,\nused to stand, clad in their \u2018Sunday best\u2019, on either side of the\nprincipal street, the men wearing emblems of service in their hats.\nThus the plough-boy or carter had a piece of whip-cord; the shepherd\na lock of wool; and the cowherd a tuft of cow-hair. It is said that\nthe name _Mop_ which is widely used in the Midlands instead of\n_Stattis_ [Statutes] is derived from this old custom of carrying the\nbadge of office, and refers to the mop borne by the servant-girls.\nThe contracts made between employer and employed at the Mop were\nbinding for the following twelve months. A fee, formerly termed in\nthe northern counties the _God\u2019s-penny_, but later more generally\nthe _fastening-penny_, was given by the employer to the servant as\nearnest-money. It varied in amount from one shilling to a pound. If\nthe servant changed his or her mind before entering the service, he\nor she returned the _God\u2019s-penny_ to the employer; and on the other\nhand, if the employer changed his mind and refused to take the servant,\nhe forfeited the fee. The relative merits of various \u2018places\u2019, and\nwarnings against \u2018bad meat houses\u2019, i.e. houses where scant rations\nprevailed, were transmitted to new generations of servants in doggerel\nverses repeated at the hirings, such as: Bradford breedless, Harnham\nheedless, Shaftee pick at the craa; Capheaton\u2019s a wee bonny place, But\nWallin\u2019ton bangs [excels] them aa (Nhb.).\n\nA Runaway Mop was a statute hiring-fair held a few weeks after the\ncustomary ones, said to be composed of servants who had been hired at a\nprevious fair, and had run away from their situations. In the _Evesham\nJournal_ of October 16, 1897, there appeared an announcement stating\nthat \u2018The runaway mop [at Stratford-on-Avon] will be held on October\n22nd\u2019. A Mop Fair is still held in Stratford-on-Avon. In the _Daily\nSketch_ of October 14, 1912, appeared an illustration entitled \u2018Roasting\nthe Ox at Stratford Mop Fair\u2019, with this note appended: \u2018The\nStratford-on-Avon Mop Fair, which dates from the reign of King John, was\nheld on Saturday. Six excursion trains ran from London, and specials\narrived from many towns. The ox-roasting in the streets was one of the\nprincipal sights of the Fair, seven bullocks and a dozen pigs being\nspitted.\u2019\n\nThe children\u2019s singing game: Here comes the lady of the land, With\nsons and daughters in her hand; Pray, do you want a servant to-day?\n&c., is probably an outgrowth of the Hiring-fairs, an imitation of\ncustoms once in vogue on these occasions, either derived directly from\nthe Fairs or from dramatic representations of them acted at Harvest\nHomes.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XVIII\n\nGAMES\n\n\nChildren\u2019s games form a study in themselves. Nobody who has once\ndipped into one of the two big volumes of that scholarly and intensely\ninteresting work by Mrs. Gomme, entitled _The Traditional Games of\nEngland, Scotland, and Ireland_, can fail to be struck by the importance\nof games as a mirror of real life. Indeed--to quote the words of Mrs.\nGomme\u2019s closing paragraph--\u2018it is not ... too much to say that we have\nin these children\u2019s games some of the oldest historical documents\nbelonging to our race, worthy of being placed side by side with the\nfolk-tale and other monuments of man\u2019s progress from savagery to\ncivilisation.\u2019\n\nAfter reading her book I look back with a new sense of pleasure to the\nvillage school-treats, where I joined in the singing games played on the\nlawns of our old Rectory home in Herefordshire. It is a source of great\ngratification to me to think that in: Nuts in May--which should properly\nbe read Knots of May, i.e. bunches of hawthorn-blossom--I reenacted\nmarriage by capture; that in: Here come three Spaniards out of Spain,\nA-courting of your daughter Jane. Ans. My daughter Jane is yet too\nyoung, She cannot bear your flattering tongue, I personated the\nambassador of a would-be bridegroom belonging to the days when marriage\nby purchase had succeeded to marriage by capture; that when I adjured\nthe kneeling Sally Water to: Sprinkle in the pan, and then: Rise Sally,\nrise Sally, Choose your young man, I was calling her to the performance\nof a marriage ceremony the chief feature of which was some rite\nconnected with water-worship, a relic of the pre-Celtic inhabitants of\nthe British Isles; that when I formed one of a circle of little girls\nplaying the ever-popular Who goes round my stony wall to-night? Ans.\nOnly Johnny Ningo, I represented a primitive village, round which\nprowled by night a thief from a neighbouring village, or a wild animal\nfrom the forest, on a sheep-stealing expedition. But best of all I like\nto think that as the centre player in: Wind up the old Yew-tree, I\npersonified a sacred Tree, encircled by a band of worshippers stamping\non the ground to arouse the sleeping Earth-spirit. London Bridge was\nanother very favourite game at those school-treats, but little did we\nknow that it originated in the barbarous custom of foundation sacrifice.\nI cannot remember that we ever performed the game of: Mother, mother,\nthe pot boils over, with its traces of customs belonging to fire-worship\nand the worship of the hearth.\n\n[Sidenote: _Antiquity of Games_]\n\nOf less hoary antiquity are the customs represented in Jenny Jones,\nwhere Jenny dies, and her corpse is dressed in white and carried to the\ngrave by her maiden friends, weeping as they go. Our Herefordshire\nversion of the song was a decadent one, for we always called the heroine\nJenora, and we decided that commonplace \u2018black\u2019 is \u2018for dead people\u2019.\nHere we enacted the funeral to the bitter end, till Jenora--or her\nembodied ghost--rose up from the grave and chased the shrieking\nmourners. But in Wallflowers and Green Gravel we lamented the death of a\nmaiden only by turning our faces \u2018to the wall\u2019 to indicate hopeless\ngrief.\n\nEven those apparently mere baby games which we played with the infant\nscholars, such as Mulberry Bush, accompanied by actions of daily life,\nand Ring a Ring o\u2019 Roses, with its allusion to the ceremonial use of\nflowers, the bowing to the ground, and the sneezing, should probably be\nregarded with the respect due to survivals of ancient sacred dances. We\nlearn, too, that the primitive element may also be traced in the simple\ngames of Touch and Tig, where \u2018he\u2019 or \u2018it\u2019 would seem to be a tabooed\nperson; and that in the game of Hoblionkers, so common in Oxford, may be\nfound \u2018evidence of the early belief that the possession of a weapon\nwhich had, in the hands of a skilful chief, done great execution, would\ngive additional skill and power to the person who succeeded in obtaining\nit\u2019.\n\nBeside the games which exhibit traces of pre-Christian religion and\nsocial custom are the later historical games played by boys, such as\nScots and English, and We are the Rovers, dating from the inroads of the\nScots, or from the threatened invasion of Napoleon, games which, by\ncomparison with the others, seem to be of mushroom growth. But it is\nneedless further to recapitulate what has been better said elsewhere,\nand it would be hard to find a game of any sort which is not fully\ndescribed in Mrs. Gomme\u2019s volumes.\n\n[Sidenote: _Terms used in Marbles_]\n\nA bird\u2019s-eye view of the game of marbles as played throughout the\nBritish Isles would probably show a larger and more varied vocabulary of\ntechnical terms and phrases than almost any other game. To begin with,\nthere are the different dialect names denoting the different species of\nmarbles, for example: balser, bobber or dobber, bullocker, dogle,\ndolledger, fifer, frenchie, kabber, ligganie, pot-donnock, &c., &c.;\nthen the names for the different varieties of the game, such as:\nbungums, dab-at-the-hole, doorie, drop-eye, dykey, follow-tar, lag,\nlangie-spangie, nanks, plonks and spans, rackups, ringhams, rumps, &c.,\n&c.; and lastly, there is the rich assortment of exclamations and\nexpressions used by the players, as for instance: A-rant! No custance!\nDubs! Fen keeps! Gobs! Heights! Layers! Lights up and no bird-eggs!\nLodge! No first my redix! Roonses! &c., &c.; to fub, to fullock, to\ngull, to grumphey, to hagger, to murl, to plonk, to strake, to play\nfreezers, to play kibby, &c., &c.\n\nMany of the good old nursery jingles appear in quaint guise in the\ndialects. The following is an Isle of Wight version of This little pig\nwent to market, used when counting a baby\u2019s fingers or toes: This gurt\npig zays, I wants meeat; T\u2019other one zays, Where\u2019ll ye hay et? This one\nzays, In gramfer\u2019s barn; T\u2019other one zays, Week! Week! I can\u2019t get over\nthe dreshel [threshold]. In Scotland they say: This ain biggit the\nbaurn, This ain stealt the corn, This ain stood and saw, This ain ran\nawa\u2019, An\u2019 wee pirlie-winkie paid for a\u2019. A Scottish version of This is\nthe way the ladies ride, used when dancing a child on the knee, runs:\nThis is the way the ladies rides, Jimp and sma\u2019, jimp and sma\u2019; This is\nthe way the gentlemen rides, Spurs an a\u2019, spurs an a\u2019; This is the way\nthe cadgers rides, Creels an a\u2019, creels an a\u2019.\n\n[Sidenote: _Country Children\u2019s Rhymes_]\n\nCountry children often repeat certain rhymes when they meet with some\nparticular insect or other creature; or when they hear the note of some\nfamiliar bird. In the latter case, the words used are sometimes intended\nas a gloss on the cry of the bird, as for example: Steal two coos,\nTaffy, Steal two coos, which is what the wood-pigeon says, according to\nthe Welshman\u2019s story, when he was asked why he stole the cows. When\nBerkshire children hear the wood-pigeon they sing: My toe bleeds, Betty!\nMy toe bleeds, Betty! Northamptonshire children on hearing the\nblackbird, sing: Draw the knave a cup of beer, Be quick, quick, quick!\nIn many dialects the generic name for a moth is _miller_, but the term\nis more specially applied to large white moths. When children catch such\na one they sing: Millery, millery, doustipoll, How many zacks hast thee\nastole? Vow\u2019r an\u2019 twenty, and a peck; Hang the miller up by\u2019s neck\n(Hmp.); Miller, miller, blow your horn! You shall be hanged for stealing\ncorn (Shr.). A woodlouse is called Granfer Grig (Wil. Som.), and the\nfollowing are the lines to a woodlouse to make it curl up: Granfer Grig\nkilled a pig, Hung un up in corner; Granfer cried and Piggy died, And\nall the fun was over. There are several rhymes addressed to snails in\nvarious localities, for example: Snarley-\u2019orn, put out your corn, Father\nand mother\u2019s dead (Som.); Sneely-snawl, put out your horn, The beggars\nare coming to steal your corn, At six o\u2019clock in the morning (Lin.);\nSnag, snag, put out your horn, And I will give you a barleycorn (Sus.);\nHodmadod, hodmadod, pull out your horns, Here comes a beggarman to cut\noff your corns (Suf.). Children in Northumberland call a scarlet\nladybird a _sodger_. When they have caught one they throw it up in the\nair and say: Reed, reed sodger, fly away, And make the morn a sunny day.\nBut the commonest rhyme addressed to a ladybird is: Cowlady, cowlady,\nhie thee way whum! Thy haase is afire, thy childer all gone, All but\npoor Nancy set under a pan, Wavin\u2019 gold lace as fast as she can (Yks.).\nThere are versions of this rhyme in various dialects. To irritate\nturkeys boys will shout at them: Bubbly Jock, Bubbly Jock, Bubbly Jock\nthe satter, Yor faithor\u2019s deed, yor mother\u2019s deed, ye canna flee nae\nfawthor (Nhb.); or: Lubber, lubber-leet, Look at your dirty feet (Cor.);\nor: What d\u2019ye hang yer vather wi\u2019? to which the turkey is supposed to\nreply, Holter, holter, holter. When a Lincolnshire hen cackles she is\nbelieved to say: Cuca, cuca, cayit, I\u2019ve laid an egg, cum ta\u2019 it.\nNorfolk boys scare rooks and crows from corn by shouting: Bird, a bird,\na wook, Here come the clappers To knock ye down back\u2019ards. Carwo!\nCarwoo--oh!\n\n[Sidenote: _Rustic Riddles_]\n\nTo wind up my chapter I will add a few rustic riddles: Tweea lookers,\ntwea crookers, fower dilly danders, four stiff standers, an\u2019 a wig-wam\n(Wm. Lan.). Ans. A cow. Clink, clank doon the bank, Ten again four;\nSplish, splash in the dish, Till it run ower (Nhb.). Ans. The milking of\na cow. Creep-hedge, crop-thorn; Little cow with the leather horn (Yks.).\nAns. A hare. The bat, the bee, the butterflee, the cuckoo, and the gowk,\nThe heather-bleat, the mire-snipe, hoo many birds is that (Sc. Irel.)?\nAns. Two. So black\u2019s my \u2019at, so white\u2019s my cap, Magotty pie, and what\u2019s\nthat (Som.)? This is a kind of jibe-riddle asked of very stupid persons.\nThe common dialect expression _to come to_, meaning _to cost_, gives\nrise to the following version of a well-known arithmetical problem: If a\nherrin\u2019 and a half come to dree \u2019aa-pence, what will a hundred o\u2019 coal\ncome to? Ans. Ashes. What\u2019s the smallest thing as is sold alive in\nmarkut? Ans. A mint [a cheese-mite].\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XIX\n\nWEATHER LORE AND FARMING TERMS\n\n     \u2018There was no information for which Dr. Johnson was less grateful\n     than for that which concerned the weather.... If any one of his\n     intimate acquaintance told him it was hot or cold, wet or dry,\n     windy or calm, he would stop them by saying, \u201cPoh! poh! you are\n     telling us that of which none but men in a mine or a dungeon can be\n     ignorant. Let us bear with patience, or enjoy in quiet, elementary\n     changes, whether for the better or the worse, as they are never\n     secrets.\u201d\u2019\n     Burney, _Boswell\u2019s Life of Johnson_, G. Birkbeck Hill, vol. iv,\n     p. 360.\n\n\nIn all ranks of life the weather is the one great topic for casual\nconversations and salutations; and thanks to the blessed uncertainty of\nour English climate we have a wide field, and seldom need to repeat the\nsame remark two days running. Dialect-speakers, however, have the\nadvantage over us of the standard language, in that they possess so many\ngood descriptive adjectives and metaphorical expressions which we lack.\nThe rustic, moreover, accepts the weather as he finds it, and puts plain\nfacts into words, he does not abuse unalterable conditions in the way we\nare so apt to do, as if a cold wind, or drizzling rain were a personal\ninsult not to be borne. Sometimes we even descend to unadulterated\nslang, as did the two charming and well-dressed maidens I once heard\ngreet each other in the street thus: \u2018Awful weather, isn\u2019t it!\u2019 said the\none. \u2018Beastly!\u2019 retorted the other, and they passed on. One was reminded\nof the girl in the fairy-tale who was condemned for her sins to let fall\na toad each time she opened her mouth to speak.\n\n[Sidenote: _Phrases describing the Weather_]\n\nFor describing the weather in realistic and at the same time\npicturesque terms, some of the dialect phrases would be hard to beat.\nTake for example these: It\u2019s a donky day, Ben! Ey, rayder slattery.\nVarra slashy! Ay, parlish soft. Here\u2019s a sharp mwornin\u2019, John! Ey, as\nsnell as a stepmother\u2019s breath. A tell you \u2019tis a day wud blaw the\nhorns aff the kye [cows]. It fare to be a wunnerful glosy morning,\nleastways I sweat good tidily. It fair teeam\u2019d doon, it stowered, an\u2019\nit reek\u2019d, an\u2019 it drazzl\u2019d, whahl ah was wet ti t\u2019skin, an\u2019 hedn\u2019t a\ndhry threed aboot ma. T\u2019weather wor seea pelsy, followed wi\u2019 sitch a\nsnithe, hask wind. A cold snarzling wind. When the air is so cold that\nit will not allow any one to stand idle: There\u2019s a good steward about.\nOn the Cumberland Fells there is always a _bone_ in the air. When the\nday looks bright and pleasant, but there is a chill nip in the air,\nit is a _sly_ day; when it is cold and foggy, it is _hunch-weather_,\nbecause it makes men and animals hunch up their shoulders; when it is\nvery cold with a piercing wind it is _peel-a-bone_ weather; and when\nit rains very hard it is: Raining pitchforks with the tines downwards.\nA raging, blustering wind goes _wuthering_ across a bleak moor, whence\nthe name of Mr. Heathcliff\u2019s dwelling _Wuthering Heights_. When the\nsky shows streaks of windy-looking cloud, and the weather seems\ndoubtful it: Looks skeowy; an unusually bright day is: Too glisky to\nlast; when a fine rain is falling: It hadders and ro\u00e4ks. A kind of\nhoar-frost peculiar to Dartmoor is known as _the ammil_, a term which\nis apparently a figurative use of _amel_, i.e. enamel (cp. \u2018_Esmail_,\nammel or enammel\u2019, Cotgr.), used to denote the thin coating of\ntransparent ice which covers every twig, and leaf, and blade of grass.\nOn a calm, hot day, when the air near the surface of the ground is seen\nto quiver in the sunlight: The summer-colt rides, or: The summer-goose\nflackers; the Northern Lights are the Merry Dancers; heavy masses of\nfleecy white cloud are Wool-packs, or they are the Shepherd\u2019s Flock.\nThe evening star becomes the Shepherd\u2019s Lamp, whilst the moon, more\nprosaically, does duty as the Parish Lantern.\n\n[Sidenote: _Weather Rhymes and Sayings_]\n\nTo the countryman who lives by tilling the soil, or by tending sheep\nand cattle, the prospect of fair days or foul is all-important; we\ntherefore find in the dialects a mass of weather-lore, in part based\non old superstition, in part on trustworthy observation. Sun, moon,\nand stars, clouds and wind, the habits of animals, and the various\nsigns of the approach of winter, or the advent of spring, are all\nobserved and studied, and then, in course of time, the results of this\nobservation have become crystallized in popular sayings and homely\nrhymes.\n\nWhen the sky has a _cruddled_ appearance, that is, when it is covered\nwith small fleecy clouds called Hen-scrattins (Sc. n.Cy. Midl.), it\nmeans that the weather will be: Neither long wet nor yet long dry. The\nsame is said of the long streaky clouds called Filly-tails (Sc. n.Cy.),\nMares\u2019-tails (gen. dials.), and Goat\u2019s-hair (Nhb.). When a thick band of\ncloud lies across the west, with smaller bands above and below, it is:\nBarbara and her barns [children], a sign of stormy weather (Yks.). The\nname is an allusion to St. Barbara, whose father was about to strike off\nher head, when a lightning flash laid him dead at her feet. Hence she\nwas supposed to command the thunderstorm, and was invoked as a\nprotectress. When dingy packs on Criffel lower, Then hoose yer kye an\u2019\nstuik yer duir, But if Criffel be fair an\u2019 clear, For win\u2019 or weet ye\nneedn\u2019t fear (Cum.). A small dark cloud such as Elijah\u2019s servant beheld\nwhen he looked toward the sea from the top of Carmel, is called a\nDyer\u2019s-ne\u00e4f [hand], and betokens rain as it did in Ahab\u2019s time, for: A\ndyer\u2019s neaf an\u2019 a weather-gall Shepherds warn at rain\u2019ll fall (Yks.). A\nWeather-gall (n.Cy.) is the stump of a rainbow left visible above the\nhorizon. A Weather-breeder (n.Cy. n.Midl. e.An.) is a fine warm day out\nof season, regarded as the precursor of stormy weather. When streaks of\nlight are seen radiating from the sun behind a cloud, the sun is said to\nbe _drawing wet_, for the Sun-suckers (Chs. Shr.) are sucking up\nmoisture from the earth, to form rain. Roger\u2019s blast (e.An.) is a kind\nof miniature whirlwind, which suddenly on a calm day whirls up the dust\non the road, or the hay in the field, high in the air, to herald the\napproaching rain.\n\n[Sidenote: _Signs of Wet Weather_]\n\nIt is a sign of coming wet weather if the moon is on her back (Sc.\nMidl. e.An.), for she holds the water in her lap; if a halo is seen\nround her, variously termed a _wheel_ (Brks. Hmp. Som.), a _bur_\n(n.Cy. n.Midl. e.An. s.Cy.), and a _brough_ (Sc. Irel. n.Cy.), e.g. The\nbigger the wheel, the nearer the wet; If t\u2019bur i\u2019 t\u2019muin be far away,\nMek heaste an\u2019 hoose yer cworn an\u2019 hay; A far-aff broch a near-han\u2019\nshoor, A near-han\u2019 broch a far-aff shoor; or if the evening star _leads\nthe moon_, that is, if it is in front, or on the right-hand side of\nthe moon. A Setterda\u2019s moon, Cum it once in seven year, it cums too\nsoon (Lin.), for: Saturday new, and Sunday full, It allus rines, and\nit allus ool (Glouc.). If curleys whaup when t\u2019day is duin, We\u2019ll\nhev a clash [downpour] an\u2019 varra suin (Cum.). The guinea-fowl or\n_come-back_ invokes rain (Nrf.); and the call of the green woodpecker\nis the warning signal: Wet! wet! wet! (Shr. Som.). It is a sign of\nrain when _th\u2019 craws plaays football_, that is, when the rooks gather\ntogether in large bodies, and circle round each other; when the ducks\n_do squacketty_ (Som.), or when they throw water from their bills over\ntheir heads (Yks.); when the swallows fly near the surface of the\nground; when the crickets chirp more loudly than usual; when a cat\nscratches the table legs, or _makes bread_, or sneezes (Sc.), or in\nwashing her face, draws her paw down over her forehead; if a cock flies\nup on to a gate, and there crows (Wal.); if a dog eats grass (Sc.); if\nthe _packmen_ [snails] are about (War.); If paddocks crowk in t\u2019pow\n[pool] at neet, We may expect baith win\u2019 an\u2019 weet (Cum.); if a peacock\ncries frequently (Dev.); if you meet a _shiny-back_ (War.), or common\ngarden beetle; if you kill a _rain-clock_ [beetle], or _rain-bat_\n(n.Cy. Wor.), an _egg-clock_ [cockchafer] (Lan.), or _God\u2019s horse_ [the\nsun-beetle](Cum.). If it rains on Friday it will rain on the following\nSunday (Cum.). The shooting of corns, or of an old sore, is a sign of\nwind and rain (Yks.). If a rake is carried in harvest-time with its\nteeth pointing upwards it is certain to rake down rain (Dev.). If the\ncat frisk about the house in an unusually lively manner, wind or stormy\nweather is approaching (Lan.). The shrew-mouse prognosticates in which\nquarter the wind will prevail during the winter by making the opening\nof its nest in the contrary direction (Nhp.). It is a very common\nsaying that: When the wind is in the east, It\u2019s neither good for man\nnor beast; but: The wind in the west Suits every one best (Lan.) A\nstreak of thin white cloud, somewhat in the shape of a boat, is called\nNoah\u2019s Ark (Sc. n.Cy. n.Midl. e.An.). If it lies north and south it\ndenotes rain, but lying east and west it denotes fine weather (Cum.).\nOr again, it is held that if the Ark remains three days, the wind will\npass into the quarter to which the Ark points. South for rain; north\nfor cold; east for all that is ill; and west to everybody\u2019s gain (Wm.).\n\n[Sidenote: _Popular Meteorology_]\n\nIf a robin sings on a high branch of a tree it is a sign of fine\nweather, but if one sings near the ground the weather will be wet\n(Shr.). An old saying about the _wood-seer_ (Nhp.), the little green\ninsect found in the white froth deposited on plants, is that when its\nhead is turned upwards it betokens fine weather, and when downward, the\nreverse.\n\nIn changeable weather the rain is said to come and go _by planets_\n(Der. Lei. e.An.), or if rain falls with great violence, but very\nlocally, it is said to fall _in planets_ (n.Cy.), phrases which must be\nremnants of old astrological beliefs.\n\nThe presence of sea-gulls inland is generally taken as an indication of\nstormy weather: Sea-mo, sea-mo, bide on t\u2019sand, Theer nivver good\nweather when thoo\u2019s on t\u2019land (Cum.); but this is not always the case. A\nDevonshire rhyme runs: When the say-gulls cry by lan\u2019, \u2019Tis time to take\nthe zellup [seed-leap, i.e. seed-basket for sowing] in han\u2019; When the\nsay-gulls cry by say, \u2019Tis time to draw the zellup away. In Shetland\nthere is an old rhyme concerning the movements of the _rain-goose_, or\nred-throated diver: If the rain g\u00f6se flees ta da hill, Ye can geng ta da\nhaf whin ye will; But whin sh\u00f6 gengs ta da sea, Ye maun draw up yir\nboats an\u2019 flee. According to an old Cumberland saying: If\u2019t cums on rain\nwhen t\u2019teyde\u2019s at flowe, You may yoke t\u2019plew on any knowe [knoll]; Bit\nif it cums when t\u2019teyde\u2019s at ebb, Then lowse yer plew an\u2019 gang to bed.\n\nPerhaps the commonest of all sayings concerning the weather is: A red\nsky at night Is the shepherd\u2019s delight; A red sky in the morning Is the\nshepherd\u2019s warning. The wording varies slightly in different districts,\nbut the sense is always the same, cp. \u2018When it is evening, ye say, It\nwill be fair weather: for the sky is red. And in the morning, It will be\nfoul weather to-day: for the sky is red and lowring,\u2019 _St. Matt._ xvi.\n2, 3. Another very common adage is: Rain before seven, fine before\neleven. Among the Yorkshire Dales people will tell you that when you see\nthe cattle on the tops of the hills, it is a sign of fine weather. The\nearly mist called the _pride of the morning_ (n.Cy. Midl. Dor.), _harr_,\nand _hag_, foretells a fine day. A moorn hag-mist Is worth gold in a\nkist; A northern harr Brings fine weather from far (Yks.).\n\n[Sidenote: _Foretelling the Seasons_\n           _The Farmer and the Weather_]\n\nBut popular meteorology does not confine itself to foretelling the\nweather of the immediate future; there are plenty of prophetic\nutterances concerning the seasons, and their effects on the crops of\nweeks and even months ahead. For instance: If the ice will bear a man\nbefore Christmas, it will not bear a mouse afterwards. If the sun shine\nthrough the apple-tree on Christmas Day there will be an abundant crop\nof apples in the following year. If the wind is in the west at noon\non Candlemas Day it will be a good year for fruit. If Cannlemas Day\nbe lound [calm] and fair, Yaw hawf o\u2019 t\u2019winter\u2019s to come an\u2019 mair; If\nCannlemas Day be murk and foul, Yaw hawf o\u2019 t\u2019winter\u2019s geean at Yule\n(Yks.). A January spring is worth naething. If in February there be no\nrain, The hay won\u2019t goody, nor the grain, All other months of the year\nMost heartily curse a fine Februeer (Dev.). If the cat in February lies\nin the sun, she will creep under the grate in March (Dev.). So many\nfrogs in March, so many frosts in May (Rut.). A peck of March dust is\nworth a king\u2019s ransom. When the oak is before the ash, The summer will\nbe dry and mash [hot] (Bdf.). If the oak before the ash, Then we\u2019re\nsure to have a plash, If the ash before the oak, Then we\u2019re sure to\nhave a soak (Nhb.). When the hair-beard [the field woodrush] appear,\nThe shepherd need not fear (Nhp.). Rain on Good Friday and Easter Day\nBrings plenty of grass but little good hay (Glo.). Cold May, Long\ncorn, short hay (Rut.). A wet May, Maks lang-tail\u2019d hay (Yks.). A lecky\n[showery] May, plenty o\u2019 hay, A lecky June, plenty o\u2019 corn (Nhb.).\nA wet May and a winnie [windy], Makes a fou stackyard and a finnie\n[plentiful] (Sc. n.Cy.). A dry summer never begs its bread (Som.). If\nit sud rain on St. Swithin\u2019s Day, We\u2019re feckly sarrat [served] wi\u2019\ndwallow\u2019d hay (Cum.). If it rains on St. Swithin\u2019s Day, even if only\na few drops, the apples are _christened_, and early sorts may then\nbe picked. Very hot weather in July, August, and September breeds\nhard frosts for January (Dev.). If the buck rises with a dry horn on\nHolyrood morn, Sept. 14, it is a sign of a Michaelmas summer. A warm\nOctober presages a cold February (Dev.). As the weather is in October,\nso it will be next March (Dev.). Where the wind is at Holland-tide, the\nSeason of All Saints, it will be most of the winter (Glo.). If there\u2019s\nice in November will bear a duck, There\u2019ll be nothing after but sludge\nand muck. Many hips, many haas, Many frosts, many snaas. When patches\nof snow linger after the rest has melted, these are _snowbones_, and\nmore snow will come to fetch them away.\n\nWhen children see the snowflakes falling they say: There\u2019s the old\ndomman [woman] a-picking her geese, An\u2019 sellin\u2019 the feathers a penny\napiece (Oxf.); They\u2019re killing geese i\u2019 Scotland, An\u2019 sending t\u2019feathers\nhere (Yks.); The folk i\u2019 the eas\u2019 is plotin\u2019 their geese, An\u2019 sendin\u2019\ntheir feathers ti huz (Nhb.); Keelmen, keelmen, ploat yor geese, Caad\ndays an\u2019 winter neets (Nhb.).\n\n[Sidenote: _Tusser\u2019s \u2018Husbandrie\u2019_]\n\nFrom weather lore we are naturally led to turn to the farm and the\nfarmer, and here, at the outset, we are reminded of that father of\nEnglish \u2018Husbandrie\u2019, Thomas Tusser. Writers on Literature tell us that\nhe was one of the most popular authors of his time, judging from the\nnumber of editions through which his work--_A Hundreth Good Pointes of\nHusbandrie_, afterwards enlarged to _Fiue hundred pointes of good\nHusbandrie_--passed in the first forty years after its publication in\n1557. A further testimony to the popularity of the book lies in the\nfact that copies of any one of the thirteen editions of this period are\nvery scarce, and nearly all imperfect. It certainly is a most attractive\nhandbook to farming, and one can easily imagine how the family copy\nwould be thumbed by father and son, consulting it on every occasion for\nits practical advice, useful information, and homely maxims, till the\nbook fell to pieces. A glance at Tusser\u2019s \u2018Table of the pointes of\nhusbandrie mentioned in this booke\u2019 will show that he does not confine\nhimself strictly to agricultural subjects. Here we find: \u2018A description\nof life and riches,\u2019 \u2018Against fantastical scruplenes,\u2019 \u2018A Christmas\ncaroll,\u2019 \u2018A Sonet against a slaunderous tongue,\u2019 sandwiched in between\nsuch titles as: \u2018Seedes and hearbes for the kitchen,\u2019 \u2018A medicine for\nfaint cattle,\u2019 \u2018Howe to fasten loose teeth in a bullocke,\u2019 and the\n\u2018Abstract\u2019 for every month in succession. His verses may not be\npoetical, but they contain much matter plainly expressed in little room,\nand their good rhythm and rhyme made them easy to remember. For example:\n\n    Get into the hopyard, for now it is time,\n      to teach Robin hop on his pole how to climb.\n                                            _Maies husbandrie._\n\n    When frost will not suffer to dike and to hedge,\n      then get thee a heat with thy beetle and wedge.\n                                        _Decembers husbandrie._\n\n    Keepe [scare away] crowes, good sonne,\n      see fencing be done.\n                                           _Octobers abstract._\n\n    Good dwelling giue bee,\n      or hence goes shee.\n                                         _Septembers abstract._\n\n    By sowing in wet,\n      is little to get.\n                                            _Marches abstract._\n\n    The better the muck,\n      the better good luck.\n                                         _Works after haruest._\n\nThen there are everywhere the simple and kindly moral maxims, so\ncharacteristic of their author, such as the advice concerning\ntrespassing sportsmen:\n\n    To hunters and haukers, take heede what ye saie,\n      milde answere with curtesie driues them awaie.\n                                     _Good husbandlie lessons._\n\nor concerning sick servants:\n\n    To seruant in sicknesse see nothing ye grutch,\n      a thing of a trifle shall comfort him mutch.\n                                           _Afternoone workes._\n\n[Sidenote: _Husbandry in Rhyme_]\n\n\u2018Good husbandlie lessons\u2019 stored up in rhymes in the manner of Tusser\nmay still be found in rural districts. For example: When the cuckoo\ncomes to the bare thorn, Sell your cow and buy your corn (Sus.). When\nthe slae tree is white as a sheet, Sow your barley, whether it be dry or\nweet (Nhb.). When elum leaves are as big as a farden, It\u2019s time to plant\nkidney-beans in the garden. When the moon is at the full, Mushrooms you\nmay freely pull; But when the moon is on the wane, Wait ere you think to\npluck again (Ess.). Shear you sheep in May, and shear them all away\n(Wor.). If you marl land, you may buy land; If you marl moss, there is\nno loss; If you marl clay, you fling all away (Lin.).\n\nThere is an old farmer\u2019s saying in Rutland: One boy is a boy, two boys\nis half a boy, and three boys is no boy at all. According to a\nCumberland adage, the \u2018good husband\u2019--as Tusser would call him--says:\nCome, goway to yer wark wid me, lads; while \u2018unthrift his brother\u2019 says:\nHoway to yer wark, lads, and leaves them to go by themselves.\n\nIt is interesting to recognize familiar sayings under a figure taken\nfrom farming. For instance: to have other oats to thresh, or another rig\nto hoe, is equivalent to other fish to fry; to shear [reap] one\u2019s own\nrig, is to paddle one\u2019s own canoe; to plough the headlands before the\nbutts, is to begin a thing at the wrong end. The _headland_ is the strip\nof land left unploughed at the ends of a field on which the plough\nturns, hence: to turn on a mighty narrow adlant, means to have a narrow\nescape. _Pay-rent_ is a good practical synonym for profitable, e.g. A\nproper pay-rent sort o\u2019 pigs; A rare pay-rent piece o\u2019 beans.\n\nA _way-ganging_ crop is the last crop belonging to a tenant before he\nleaves a farm, a phrase which is picturesquely applied to an old man\nnearing his end.\n\n[Sidenote: _Decay of old Farming Customs_]\n\nNumbers of the old agricultural terms so common a generation or two\nago, have now become obsolete, since the implements to which they\nbelonged have given place to newer machinery. Twenty or thirty years\nago one was accustomed to hearing the thud of the flail resounding on\nthe barn floor, but now the threshing-machine does the work, and we\nhave to look in dictionaries if we want to understand what was meant\nby a _dreshel_, and what parts of it were the _handstaff_, _soople_,\nand _capel_, and what happened to the barley when submitted to the\n_faltering-iron_. Reaping-machines, again, have superseded the older\nmethods of _shearing_ with the _sheckel_, the _badging-hook_, or the\n_fagging-hook_. We seldom hear the sound of the mower whetting his\nscythe, nor do we see Phillis hasting out of her bower \u2018With Thestylis\nto bind the sheaves\u2019. These are sounds and sights to read of in poetry,\nlike the whilome glories of our wayside hedgerows, now cloaked under a\ngrey pall of dust thrown over them by the passing motor.\n\nThe decay of old customs belonging to farming is chiefly noticeable in\nconnexion with the ingathering of the harvest, and the celebration of\nits completion. Many causes have combined of late years to make farming\nan anxious and unremunerative industry, so that there is no longer the\nreal joy in harvest that there used to be; a fact which must be reckoned\ntogether with the changes which have been wrought by the introduction of\nmachinery, and by the increase in means of locomotion which brings\nhireling harvesters from distant parts, and carries away the young\npeople who used to grow up on the same farm where their fathers and\ngrandfathers had always worked.\n\n[Sidenote: _The Harvest Home_]\n\nIn olden days, harvest time was the great social season of the year\non the farm, when master and man worked and rejoiced together in common\nbonds of fellowship, and finally celebrated the festival of the Harvest\nHome as one family. Tusser thus describes the old-time harvest:\n\n    In haruest time, haruest folke, seruants and all,\n      should make all togither good cheere in the hall;\n    And fill out the black boule of bleith to their song,\n      And let them be merie all haruest time long.\n\n    Once ended thy haruest, let none be begilde,\n      please [pay] such as did helpe thee, man, woman, and childe.\n    Thus dooing, with alway such helpe as they can,\n      thou winnest the praise of the labouring man.\n                                          _Augusts husbandrie._\n\nThe principal reaper was in some districts named the _harvest-lord_\n(Lin. e.An.). It was his duty to go first in the row, and to regulate\nthe motions of the rest of the band. Tusser, who was an Essex man, says:\n\n    Grant haruest lord more by a penie or twoo,\n      to call on his fellowes the better to doo:\n    Giue gloues to thy reapers, a larges to crie,\n      and dailie to loiterers haue a good eie.\n                                          _Augusts husbandrie._\n\nNext to him came the _harvest-lady_, the second reaper, who took the\n_harvest-lord\u2019s_ place if the latter were absent. In Shropshire the last\nman of the whole band was termed the _lag-man_. Often three or four\nreapers would each take a ridge and compete with one another as to who\nshould finish first. This was called _kemping_ (Sc. Irel. n.Cy.). The\n_largess_ was a gift of money demanded by the reapers, either during the\nharvest or at its conclusion. After receiving it, the custom was to cry\nout three times: Halloo largess! This was the ceremony of _crying a\nlargess_ to which Tusser alludes in the verse quoted above. It continued\nto be practised in parts of East Anglia till the latter half of last\ncentury.\n\n[Sidenote: _The Last Sheaf of Wheat_]\n\nWhen the reaping of the last cornfield was all but finished, a small\npatch of grain was left standing. It was then tied at the top with a\npiece of ribbon, or the stalks were roughly plaited together, to form a\nsheaf, and then the reapers placed themselves a few yards off, and\nthrew their sickles at it, competing for the honour of winning the _last\ncut_. This last handful to be reaped was the trophy of the harvest-home\nfeast. It was frequently dressed up to appear like a rude human figure,\ngaily decorated, and carried home in triumph. Afterwards it was usually\nplaced above the door of the farm-kitchen, or over the chimney-piece, to\nremain there throughout the winter to bring good luck, and ward off\nwitchcraft. The ceremonies connected with this last sheaf, and the names\nby which it was known varied in different places. It was called: the ben\n(e.An.); cailleach (Irel.); churn or kirn (Sc. Irel. n.Cy.);\nclaaick-sheaf (Sc.); cripple-goat (I. of Skye); frog (Wor.); gilach\n(Irel.); granny (Irel.); hare (Irel. Dev.); maiden (Sc.); mell (n.Cy.);\nor when made up into a figure it was: the corn-baby; kirn-baby;\nkirn-doll; mell-doll; harvest-queen. But perhaps the best-known name of\nall is the south-west-Country _neck_, a term originally borrowed from\nScandinavia, cp. Norw. and Swed. dial. _nek_, a sheaf. Much has been\nwritten about the ceremony of _Crying the neck_. A full account of it is\ngiven in Hunt\u2019s _Popular Romances of the West of England_, and a long\ncorrespondence on the subject was kept up in the _Western Morning News_\nin August 1898. Mrs. Hewitt, writing in 1900, says the custom \u2018still\nobtains in some parishes in the west of England\u2019. She describes it thus:\n\u2018When the last sheaf of wheat is cut at the end of August, the reapers\ntake the very last handful of straw and plait the ends together, tying\nthem with lengths of bright-coloured ribbons; then, lifting it high\nabove their heads, wave their sickles frantically, and shout:\n\n    We-ha-neck! we-ha-neck!\n    Well aplowed! well asowed!\n    We\u2019ve areaped! and we\u2019ve amowed!\n      Hurrah! hurrah! hurrah!\n    Well-a-cut, well abound!\n    Well-a-zot upon the ground!\n    We-ha-neck! we-ha-neck!\n      Hurrah! hurrah! hurrah!\u2019\n                                 _Nummits and Crummits_, p. 96.\n\n[Sidenote: _Crying the Mare_]\n\nThe exact manner of performing the ceremony and the words used vary in\ndifferent districts, the variations being mostly due to the fact that\nthis custom has been blended together with another called _Crying the\nmare_ (Irel. Chs. Shr. Hrt.). Indeed, many writers have been hereby led\nto confuse these two customs, which were originally quite distinct.\n_Crying the mare_ was performed by the farm men who were first to finish\nharvest in the neighbourhood. It was a mode of triumphing over their\nneighbours by offering the services of an imaginary mare to help a\nlaggard farmer. The men assembled in the stackyard, or on some strip of\nrising ground, and there divided themselves into two bands, and chanted\nin loud voices the following dialogue. First band: I have her, I have\nher, I have her. Second band: What hast thee? (Every sentence is\nrepeated three times.) A mare. Whose is her? H. B.\u2019s (naming their\nmaster whose corn is all cut). Where shall we send her? To C. D. (naming\nsome neighbour whose corn is left standing, and who therefore may be\nsupposed to need the loan of a mare). In parts of Shropshire it was\ncustomary, some sixty or seventy years ago, actually to send a horse,\nmounted by the head reaper.\n\nThe cart carrying home the last load was styled the Harvest-cart. It\nwas often decked out with ash-boughs and garlands, whilst on it rode\nboys singing the traditional song appropriate to the occasion:\n\n    Mester ... \u2019es got \u2019is corn,\n    Well shorn, well mawn,\n    Never hulled ower, yet never stuck fast,\n    And \u2019is \u2019arvest-cart\u2019s comin\u2019 home at last.\n\nThen came the harvest-home banquet, the _churn-supper_, _mell-supper_,\nor _hockey_ (Hrt. e.An.), to which the labourers\u2019 wives and children\nwere also invited. When the feasting was over, and the usual\nharvest-songs had been sung, the rest of the evening was spent in\ndancing and general rustic merriment.\n\nThe day when the farm hands resumed the usual order of work, which\nwould be paid for by the usual allowance of wages and drink, was known\nin parts of Shropshire by the name of Sorrowful Monday.\n\n[Sidenote: _Terms relating to Agriculture_]\n\nSince farming is an industry covering the land, and not confined to\nparticular districts, like coal-mining or salt-making, it would be\npossible to collect several different series of dialect terms relating\nto land-tenure, haymaking, reaping, ploughing, &c., each belonging to a\nspecified geographical area. If we were travelling through the country\nat the time of the _haysel_, or hay-harvest, we should have to call a\nhay-cock a hay-cock wherever we met one, but it might locally be known\nby the name of a _hatchel_, a _hob_, a _jockey-cock_, a _keil_, or a\n_wad_, or by some other name equally unfamiliar to our ears. Or again,\nlater in the season, if we went into a cornfield and looked at the\nsheaves set up to dry, each pile would be a yellow corn-stook and\nnothing more to us with our limited vocabulary of the harvest field, but\nit might stand there as a _hattock_, a _hile_, a _kiver_, a _mair_, a\n_stitch_, &c., according to the district where it had been set up.\n\nFarm labourers everywhere are accustomed to wear some sort of rough\ngaiters to protect their legs from cold and wet, often it is worsted\nstockings without feet, which serve this purpose, especially for walking\nin snow. The various names for these gaiters in the different dialects\nform a curious list. They are: bams, baffles, bofflers, cockers,\ngalligaskins, gamashes, hoggers, kitty-bats, loags, martyens, moggans,\nscoggers, whirlers, yanks, &c. But one of the biggest lists of dialect\nnames might be found belonging to the slight refreshment taken by\nlabourers between meals, either at eleven o\u2019clock or four in the\nafternoon. Here is a selection of some of the names: bagging, bait,\nbever, clocking, coger, dew-bit, docky, down-dinner, downdrins, elevens,\nfour-hours, jaw-bit, lump, nammet, i.e. noon-meat, O.E. _n\u014dn-mete_,\nnocket, nuncheon, undern.\n\nIf we turn to the animals on the farm, the sheep in its various stages\nof growth and commercial value would probably be found to possess the\nlargest number of names. It would puzzle most people, other than those\nto the manner born, to define all the technical terms in use, such as:\nchilver, cull, dinmont, gimmer, he-der, shear-hog, wether-hog, theave,\nthrinter, twinter, two-tooth.\n\n[Sidenote: _Calls to Animals_]\n\nMore interesting, however, than mere names of the animals are the\nwords used by the farmer and his men in dealing directly with the\nbeasts under their control. A study of wagoners\u2019 words raises one\u2019s\nnotion of the intellectual level of cart-horses considerably.\nAll sorts of exact directions are conveyed to them through the\nmedium of interjections such as the following: Boc! Chee-eggin!\nCome-other-whoa! Cubba-hoult! Hait! Hap! Har! Hauve! Joss! Kip! Mather!\nMock-mether-hauve! Ree! Ware-whoop! Weesh! Whet-gee! Wo-cum-huggin!\nWoor-ree! Wug! The word _hait_ is found in Chaucer, cp. \u2018The carter\nsmoot, and cryde, as he were wood, Hayt, Brok! hayt, Scot! what spare\nye for the stones,\u2019 _Freres Tale_, ll. 244, 245. So too are _kip_, and\n_joss_, cp. \u2018Thise sely clerkes rennen up and down, With keep, keep,\nstand, stand, Iossa, warderere,\u2019 _Reves Tale_, ll. 180, 181.\n\nThen there are all the mysteriously alluring cries which summon\ncreatures to the shippon, sty, or pen; and the authoritative words of\ncommand which drive them in the way they should go. To take a few\nexamples. Cows may be addressed thus: Coop! Cush, cush!--cp. O.N. _kus!\nkus!_ a milkmaid\u2019s call--Hoaf! Hobe! Mull! or Mully! Proo! Proochy!\nPrut! Calves: Moddie! Mog, mog, mog! Pui-ho! Sook, sook! Sheep: Co-hobe!\nOvey! Pigs: Check-check! Cheat! Dack, dack! Giss! or Gissy! Lix!\nRic-sic! Shug, shug, shug! Tantassa, tantassa pig, tow a row, a row!\nTig, tig, tig! Turkeys: Cobbler! Peet, peet, peet! Pen! Pur, pur, pur!\nGeese: Fy-laig! Gag, gag, gag! Ob-ee! White-hoddy! Ducks: Bid, bid, bid!\nDiddle! Dill, dill! Wid! Wheetie! Pigeons: Pees! Pod! Rabbits: Map!\n\nIt must be very confusing for animals transported to a distance to\nunderstand the calls of a new and strange dialect. I have more than\nonce tried the effect of imitating the seductive tones of the Yorkshire\n_Co-oop_ in addressing an Oxfordshire cow. But with her foot securely\nplanted on her native heath, she would either pay no heed whatever, or\nelse she would turn upon me the gently indulgent eye of a consciously\nsuperior intelligence.\n\n[Sidenote: _Sheep-scoring Numerals_]\n\nIn olden times it was customary among sheep-farmers and shepherds in\nthe Lake District and in the northern counties generally, to use Celtic\nnumerals for counting sheep. The traditional forms varied in different\nlocalities, as may be seen from the various series which have been\ncollected and put on record by folklorists. The following are the\nnumbers up to ten formerly in use near Keswick: Yan, tyan, tethera,\nmethera, pimp, sethera, lethera, hovera, dovera, dick.\n\nThe custom of counting sheep by means of such numbers has now been\nobsolete for about a hundred years, but it is a curious link with our\nCeltic predecessors, coming down as it does so near to our own times.\nOur Anglo-Saxon forefathers never amalgamated with the Celts, and the\nCeltic language never seriously influenced English. The Celtic\nloan-words borrowed by the Anglo-Saxons are comparatively few, and those\nfew, chiefly names of places and things of no special importance. From a\nlinguistic point of view it is strange to find such an everyday\nimplement as a set of numerals persisting in the spoken speech of a\npeople who hardly knew another word of the language of which these\nformed part, and who of course had their own numerals. It is perhaps not\ntoo romantic an explanation to suggest that among the few Celts who\nbecame subjects to the foreign invaders were the humble shepherds who\nhad always tended sheep on the north-country moors and fells. The new\nsettlers would doubtless find it useful to keep them on in their\nhereditary occupation, and in taking over the shepherd, they also took\nover his system of numeration, which in his mind was indissolubly\nassociated with the sheep under his care.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XX\n\nWEIGHTS AND MEASURES\n\n\nAnybody who has ever done any practical housekeeping in a provincial\ntown is familiar with certain anomalies in the buying and selling of\nfarm produce and other articles in common use. Why, for instance, is a\npotato when young sold by weight, and when it is old by measure? Why are\ngooseberries sold by measure and other small fruits by weight? Why are\neggs in Oxford sold at so many to the shilling, and in Sidmouth for so\nmuch the dozen? Still, we can jog along with our preconceived notions as\nto the proper means of apportioning out the goods we want to buy, and we\ndo not have to readjust or add to the Tables we learned at school. A\ncatalogue of the weights and measures in the dialects does however upset\na great many of our everyday ideas, and make our knowledge of Tables\nseem surprisingly limited. For here we find familiar measures changing\ntheir standard value according to locality, or according to the\ncommodity to be sold by measure or weight; all sorts of new measures\nwith queer names enter into computations where we had hitherto only\ndealt with plain bushels, or pounds, or inches; liquid measures usurp\nthe place of dry, and vice versa; and indefinite terms like heap, bunch,\nbundle become fixed quantities. Let us hope that compilers of arithmetic\nbooks will never be allowed to stray into this field. What a fiendish\njoy it would give to those tormentors of youth if they might add to\ntheir nightmare sums about taps running into leaky baths, and men\nploughing fields by the week, and horses costing odd shillings and\npence, a few questions like this: If one man could plough an acre of\nland in Westmorland in five days, working every other day, how long\nwould six men take to plough a field of 11\u00bd acres in Cheshire? If a\nCornishman bought a mease of herrings in the Isle of Man and sold them\nto his next-door neighbour at home, how many more herrings would he have\nleft for his wife to fry than if he took them to Clovelly to sell? If a\ndish and a half of butter costs two shillings and twopence halfpenny,\nhow much butter would you get for four shillings and elevenpence three\nfarthings? Or nice problems on the Tables such as: If three men and a\nboy could get thirty-six pankets of coal in four days and a half, how\nlong would it take two boys to get out a chalder? If A. bought a wash of\noysters and sold them to B. at so much per strike, what would be the\nprice of a prickle of whelks?\n\n[Sidenote: _Variation in Weights and Measures_]\n\nA gill in most of the north-country dialects means half a pint, in\nDevonshire it means a quart, and in Cornwall, as a measure of tin, it\nmeans a pint. A stone may be equivalent to any weight from 8 lb. to 24\nlb., it would depend whether the article in the scales was beef, or\nbutter, or hay, or wool, and so on. A pound of butter used to weigh 18\noz. throughout Cheshire. In the Lake District butter was formerly sold\nby the _long pound_, which was equivalent to 22 oz. A Northumbrian peck\nis one third of a Winchester bushel, but a Craven peck is half a\nWinchester bushel. A hundred may mean the _long hundred_, which is\nusually six score, but in parts of Worcestershire, by machine weight it\nis 112 lb., by count, 126. In Norfolk a hundred crabs is 240, because\ncrabs are counted by _casts_, and a _cast_ is a pair of crabs. According\nto Brighton measure, 128 herrings make a hundred, but if it was mackerel\nthere would be 132. An old Cumberland rhyme gives: Five scwore to\nt\u2019hundred o\u2019 men, money, an\u2019 pins; Six scwore to t\u2019hundred o\u2019 other\nthings. A yard of land in Devonshire is 9 ft., but a Cornish land yard\nis 6 yds. or 18 ft.\n\n[Sidenote: _Local Terms and Customs relating to Weights and Measures_]\n\nA _boll_ is a dry measure of capacity varying from two to six bushels.\nAt Alnwick, a boll of barley or oats was six bushels; of wheat two\nbushels. At Hexham, a boll of barley or of oats was five bushels; of\nwheat four bushels. A _trug_ (Hrf.) is a measure of wheat of which three\ngo to make up two bushels. A _fother_ is a cartload, in some places a\none-horse load, and in others a two-horse load. If it denotes a weight\nof lead, it is equivalent to 21 cwt. and upwards. In Durham, as a\nmeasure for coals, it meant 17\u2154 cwt., cp. \u2018With him ther was a\nPloughman, was his brother, That hadde i-lad of dong ful many a fother,\u2019\nChaucer, _Prol._ ll. 529, 530. A _last_ is a dry measure, used for corn,\n&c. A Lincolnshire last of oats = 21 sacks of four bushels each, but\nused for rape-seed, turnip-seed, or oats the last = 10 quarters, or\neighty bushels. As a measure for herrings in East Anglia, a last of\nherrings is said to be ten thousand, but if six score and twelve go to\neach hundred, there would actually be 13,200. A _lug_ (War. w.Cy.) is a\nmeasure of land, usually a rod, pole, or perch, but occasionally varying\nin length, cp. \u2018Eight lugs of grownd,\u2019 Spenser, _F. Q._ Bk. II. x. 11. A\n_shaftment_ is the measure of the fist with the thumb extended,\ngenerally taken as six inches. A _bodge_ (Ken.) is an odd measure of\ncorn left over when the bulk has been measured out into quarters and\nsacks, cp. \u2018To the last bodge of oats and bottle of hay,\u2019 Jonson, _New\nInn_.\n\nIn East Anglia a pint of butter would mean 20 oz. In parts of Kent\nfruit, vegetables, and fish are sold by the quart. Bread also is sold in\npecks, gallons, and quarts. A peck in west Somerset may be used as a\nmeasure for cider, one peck being equal to two gallons. In Cheshire and\nStaffordshire pottery is sold by the _piece_. I have myself bought\nflower-pots by this standard, the number of the pots contained in the\npiece varying according to their size. Firewood stacked for sale is in\nmany districts sold by the _cord_, a measure varying in amount in\ndifferent parts of the country. In Worcestershire and Herefordshire, and\nparts also of Shropshire and Gloucestershire, fruit and vegetables are\nalways sold by the _pot_, or _half-pot_; a kind of basket or hamper\nwithout a lid. Hops are sold by the _pocket_, this latter being an\nenormous bag some 7\u00bd ft. long, holding about 168 lb. of hops. Bottom\nmight still express \u2018a great desire to a bottle of hay\u2019, and be\nunderstood in any county. The common proverbial saying: To look for a\nneedle in a bottle of hay is known as far back as 1655. Peck is used\nfiguratively in the phrase: a peck o\u2019 troubles. A very common way of\ntelling a Yorkshireman that he is judging or treating others by his own\nstandard of thought or action is to say he is: measuring a peck out of\nhis own stroke.\n\nAny kind of indefinite measure of anything may of course be taken by\n_scowl of brow_, or by _the skeg of the eye_, and things of minor weight\nmay be judged by the _heft_ or the _lift_.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XXI\n\nPLANT NAMES AND NAMES OF ANIMALS\n\n\nA few of the dialect plant-names have been noticed in previous\nchapters in connexion with superstitious beliefs, medical lore, &c.,\nbut there are a great many more, equally well worth considering. What\none feels about them--and herein lies their chief attraction--is that\nthey reflect the popular mind, and are not the result of mere peeping\nand botanizing. The rustic sees in the flower something which calls up\nin his mind a familiar object--a dish of eggs and bacon, the parson in\nthe pulpit, a hen and chickens; or something which reminds him of a\nBible story he has known from his childhood; or something akin to human\nnature, which draws forth a responsive recognition.\n\nWe naturally expect to find in the different dialects different names\nfor one and the same flower, but it is strange to find up and down the\ncountry one and the same name attached to different flowers. An Oxford\nlady once pointed out to me some plants of the double garden daisy,\nwhich she called Bachelor\u2019s Buttons. I declared this was a misnomer, for\nthe Bachelor\u2019s Buttons I had grown up with in Herefordshire were some\nkind of double ranunculus. Subsequent research, however, supported both\nsides of the argument, and showed further, that at least twenty more\nplants also bore the name of Bachelor\u2019s Button in different parts of the\ncountry. Even a common name like Honeysuckle is not restricted to the\nfragrant climber _Lonicera Peryclymenum_ with which we of the standard\nspeech always associate it. The following plants may all be called\nHoneysuckle: 1. The purple clover, _Trifolium pratense_. 2. The white\nclover, _T. repens_. 3. The bird\u2019s-foot trefoil, _Lotus corniculatus_.\n4. The dwarf cornel, _Cornus suecica_. 5. The great bindweed,\n_Convolvulus sepium_. 6. The white dead-nettle, _Lamium album_. 7. The\nlousewort, _Pedicularis sylvatica_. 8. The blossoms of the willow.\n\n[Sidenote: _Plants associated with Biblical Names_]\n\nThe following are some of the names of plants associated with\nBiblical subjects: Aunt Mary\u2019s Tree (Cor.) is the common holly; Virgin\nMary (Lakel. Cor.), Virgin Mary\u2019s Honeysuckle (Chs. Shr.), Virgin\nMary\u2019s Milkdrops (Mon. Wil.), Lady\u2019s Milk-sile (Chs.), are names of\nthe lungwort _Pulmonaria officinalis_, referring to the legend that\nduring the flight into Egypt some of the Blessed Virgin\u2019s milk fell on\nits leaves, as she nursed the infant Jesus. The same legend is also\ntold to account for like spots on the leaves of the Blessed Thistle\n(War.), Our Lady\u2019s Thistle, _Carduus Marianus_. Another legend says\nthat the Virgin Mary, when thirsty, met with a cow, and after using the\nbroad leaf of the thistle as a drinking-cup, willed that the species\nshould ever after be called by her name, and bear the stains of the\nmilk on its leaves. The lungwort is also called Mary\u2019s Tears (Dor.),\nand the spots are traced to the tears shed by her at the Crucifixion.\nLegend tells that once the Virgin Mary plucked up a root of the crab\u2019s\nclaw, _Polygonum Persicaria_, and then threw it away, saying \u2018that\u2019s\nuseless\u2019, hence Useless (Sc.) has been its name ever since, and the\nblotches on its leaves are the marks of her fingers.\n\n[Sidenote: _Plants associated with the Bible and with the Christian\n              Seasons_]\n\nGethsemane (Chs.), the early purple orchis, _Orchis mascula_, is said\nto have been growing at the foot of the Cross, and to have received\ndrops of blood on its leaves, the marks of which it has never lost.\nThe same legend is attached also to the Calvary Clover, _Medicago\nechinus_, the leaves of which are marked with dull red, irregular\nblotches exactly like real blood-stains. The plant is much prized\nas a pot-plant, both for the sake of its leaves and for its curious\nseed-vessels, one of which was given to me a few weeks ago. It looks\nlike a little prickly ball, and when thoroughly dry it can be unwound,\nspiral fashion, in two coils, an outer prickly one, and an inner smooth\none which encases the twelve seeds. The ends can then be hooked one\ninto the other, to form a miniature Crown of Thorns. The seeds, I\nwas told, must be planted on Ash Wednesday, though probably an older\nversion of the tradition would give Good Friday as the fitting date,\nbut I have never heard of the superstition before. In parts of Cheshire\nChrist\u2019s Thorn, _Crataegus Pyracantha_, is the accredited plant from\nwhich the Saviour\u2019s Crown of Thorns was made. In parts of Yorkshire\nChrist\u2019s Thorn is a name of the common holly, with its scarlet\nberries typical of His blood. The fame of having been cut to make the\nCrown of Thorns was given in Kent to the Jews\u2019 Myrtle, the butcher\u2019s\nbroom, _Ruscus aculeatus_. The Eye of Christ (Wal.) is the germander\nspeedwell, _Veronica Chamaedrys_, also known as Angels\u2019 Eyes (Dev.).\n\nThe name Aaron\u2019s Beard is applied to several plants; so is Aaron\u2019s\nRod, the latter name being perhaps most commonly given to the mullein,\n_Verbascum Thapsus_, because of its long, straight stem. The mullein\nalso goes by the name of Adam\u2019s Flannel (Yks. Chs. Lin. Nhp. War.),\nso called from the soft, flannel-like appearance of the leaves. The\nSolomon\u2019s Seal, _Polygonatum multiflorum_, is named David\u2019s Harp,\nfrom the resemblance of the long curved flower-stalk with its pendent\nblossoms to the harp as it is portrayed in old pictures, where David is\nrepresented playing on an instrument shaped like half a pointed arch,\nhung with metal bells, which he strikes with two hammers. The Drops\nof Abel\u2019s Blood (Dur.) are unopened flower-buds of the red fuchsia;\nJacob\u2019s Ladder is a name shared by various plants, garden-plants,\nand wild; Joseph\u2019s Flower (Sus.) is the goat\u2019s beard, _Tragopogon\npratensis_, probably a reminiscence of pictures of Joseph as an old\nman with a long beard; Joseph\u2019s Walking-stick (Hmp.) is another name\nfor one of the Jacob\u2019s Ladder flowers, _Polemonium caeruleum_; Lazarus\nBell (Dev.) is the fritillary, _Fritillaria Meleagris_, Saint Peter\u2019s\nHerb (Yks.) is the cowslip, the flower-head suggesting a bunch of keys;\nAbraham, Isaac, and Jacob (Lin.) is a name of the garden comfrey,\n_Symphytum officinale_, as well as of other plants having flowers of\ndifferent shades of colour on the same stem; several plants bear the\nname of Adam and Eve; Cain and Abel (Wil.) is the columbine, _Aquilegia\nvulgaris_, and other flowers in other localities; Mary and Joseph\n(Lin.) is the name of a garden variety of the forget-me-not; the common\nVirginian stock, on account of its numerous small flowers, is called\nthe Children of Israel (Wil. Dev.); a kind of dark blue campanula is\nknown in Sussex as the Twelve Apostles; the Rose of Sharon (Lan. Chs.\nLin. War. Suf. Dor.) is the large-flowered St. John\u2019s wort, _Hypericum\ncalycinum_; the name of Good-Friday Flower (Dor.), given to the\ntuberous moschatel, _Adoxa Moschatellina_, is supposed to be due to the\nfour-cleft corolla of the topmost flower, which suggested the Cross,\nand not to refer merely to the date of flowering, as is the case with\nthe Good-Friday Grass (Sur.), the field woodrush, _Luzula campestris_;\nthe Alleluia Plant (Dor.) is the wood-sorrel, _Oxalis acetosella_, so\ncalled because it blossoms between Easter and Whitsuntide, when in\nthe Catholic Liturgy psalms ending with \u2018Alleluia\u2019 were sung in the\nchurches. It is a very old name, cp. \u2018Allelujah, wood-sorrel, _Oxys_,\u2019\nColes, 1679, and one which occurs in other European languages. The\nname Epiphany (Cor.) for the hell-weed, _Cuscuta Epithymum_, is formed\nby popular etymology out of the French _epithin_, \u2018the weed Dodder,\nespecially that kind thereof, which grows twining about the branches of\nTime,\u2019 Cotgrave. In the same way anemone has been corrupted sometimes\ninto Enemy, and a single plant of phlox has been termed a Flock.\n\nThere is a touch of poetry in such names as: New Year\u2019s Gift (Ess.),\nthe winter aconite, _Eranthis hyemalis_; Summer\u2019s Farewell (Dor. Som.),\na variety of the Michaelmas daisy, _Aster Tripolium_; Fair Maids (Nrf.\nHmp.), or February Fair Maids (Wm.), the snowdrop, _Galanthus nivalis_;\nGolden Chain (Midl. s. and sw.Cy.), the laburnum. The reminiscence of\nthe Northern god Balder in Balder\u2019s Brae (Nhb.), a name for the wild\ncamomile, _Anthemis cotula_, is probably a borrowing from Scandinavia,\ncp. O.N. _Baldrs-br\u0101_. The same name occurs also in Swedish and Danish\ndialects. \u2018Thou may\u2019st have some idea of the beauty of his hair when\nI tell thee that the whitest of all plants is called Baldur\u2019s brow,\u2019\nMallet, _Northern Antiquities_, 1770.\n\n[Sidenote: _Old Names of Plants_]\n\nWe may still hear the plant-names Shakespeare knew, such as:\nHoney-stalks (War.), the blossoms of the white clover, _Trifolium\nrepens_; and Love in idleness (Midl.), the pansy, a name often corrupted\ninto Love and idols, or Loving idols; and many which Dr. Johnson\nincluded in his Dictionary, for example: Ale-hoof (Yks. Shr. Sus. Dev.\nCor.), the ground ivy, _Nepeta Glechoma_, cp. \u2018Alehoof ... Groundivy, so\ncalled by our Saxon ancestors, as being their chief ingredient in ale\u2019;\nAyegreen (Wm. Lan.), the house-leek, _Sempervivum tectorum_, cp.\n\u2018Aygreen ... The same with houseleek\u2019; Prick-madam (Cum.), the crooked\nyellow stonecrop, _Sedum reflexum_, cp. \u2018Prickmadam ... A species of\nhouseleek\u2019; Herb of grace (Yks. Der. Lin. Som.), the rue, _Ruta\ngraveolens_, cp. \u2018Rue ... An herb called herb of grace, because holy\nwater was sprinkled with it.\u2019\n\n    Here did she fall a tear; here in this place\n    I\u2019ll set a bank of rue, sour herb of grace:\n    Rue, even for ruth, here shortly shall be seen,\n    In the remembrance of a weeping queen.\n                                    _Rich. II_, III. iv. 104-7.\n\nThere are other old names which can be traced even further back, for\nexample: Way-bread (Sc. n.Cy. Wor.), the greater plantain, _Plantago\nmajor_, O.E. _weg-br\u01e3de_, literally way-breadth, cp. O.H.G.\n_wege-breita_, the plantain; and Withy-wind (w. and sw.Cy.), the great\nbindweed, _Convolvulus sepium_, and also the field bindweed, _C.\narvensis_, O.E. _wi\u00fee-winde_, bindweed. \u2018He bare a burdoun ybounde with\na brode liste, In a withewyndes wise ywounden aboute,\u2019 _Piers Plowman_,\nB. v. ll. 524, 525.\n\n[Sidenote: _Miscellaneous Plant Names_]\n\nThe smell of the common buttercup was formerly supposed to induce\nmadness, hence the name Crazy (Midl. w. and sw.Cy.). In the same way\npoppies are called Headaches (Irel. Midl. e.An.), because it is believed\nthat the smell of them will cause headache. Pick-pocket (Midl. Nrf. Sus.\nWil. Dev.), the shepherd\u2019s purse, _Capsella Bursa-pastoris_, is so\nnamed because it impoverishes the farmer\u2019s land. Children gather it and\nrepeat: Pick-pocket, penny nail, Put the rogue in the jail. The same\nplant is also called Pick your mother\u2019s heart out (War.), or simply\nMother\u2019s Heart (Sc. n.Cy. Midl.). Children play a kind of game with the\nheart-shaped seed-pods. They get one another to pick one of these off,\nwhich done, there follows the accusing cry: You\u2019ve picked your mother\u2019s\nheart out. In parts of Yorkshire the derisive cry is: Pick packet to\nLondon, You\u2019ll never go to London. In Dorsetshire Break your mother\u2019s\nheart is the hemlock, _Conium maculatum_; and Pick your mother\u2019s eyes\nout is the field speedwell, _Veronica agrestis_. In the Lake District\ncertain curative properties are attributed to the Solomon\u2019s Seal,\n_Polygonatum officinale_, whence it is called the Vagabond\u2019s Friend. It\nis said to be a remedy for black eyes, bruises, and broken noses.\nCourtship and Matrimony (Cum.) is the meadow-sweet, _Spiraea Ulmaria_,\nso called from the scent of the flower before and after bruising, which\nis thought to be typical of the two states in life.\n\n[Sidenote: _Popular Names for Flowers_]\n\nFor the rest, the following miscellaneous list may serve as a fairly\nrepresentative sample: Babes in the Cradle (Wil.), the water figwort,\n_Scrophularia aquatica_; Lords and Ladies (in gen. dial. use), the wild\narum, _Arum maculatum_; Milkmaids, or Milkmaidens (Yks. Midl. Ess. Wil.\nDev.), the cuckoo flower, _Cardamine pratensis_; Painted Lady (I.Ma.\nWil.), the sweet pea; Mournful Widow, or Poor Widow (Dev.), the sweet\nscabious, _Scabiosa atropurpurea_; Ranting Widow (Chs.), the\nwillow-herb, _Epilobium angustifolium_; Pretty Maids (Brks.), the white\nmeadow saxifrage, _Saxifraga granulata_. Babies\u2019 Shoes (Wil.), the\ncommon bugle, _Ajuga reptans_; Bird-een (Cum. Wm.), _Primula farinosa_,\ne.g. The lockety gowan [globe-flower] an\u2019 bonny bird-een, Are the\nfairest flowers that ever were seen; Bleeding Heart (Wm. Wor. Glo. Som.\nDev.), _Dielytra spectabilis_; Ear-drops (Sus. Som. Dev.), the flowers\nof the garden fuchsia; Geslins, or Goslins (common), the blossoms of the\nwillow; Golden Knobs (Brks.), the marsh-marigold, _Caltha palustris_,\nmuch used for May-morning garlands; Grandmother\u2019s Bonnets (Som.), or\nGrandmother\u2019s Night-cap (Yks. Chs. Nrf. Ken.), the monkshood, _Aconitum\nNapellus_; Grandmother\u2019s Slippers (Hmp.), the bird\u2019s-foot trefoil,\n_Lotus corniculatus_; Money in both pockets (Lakel. Ken. Wil. sw.Cy.),\nthe common honesty, _Lunaria biennis_; Mother Shimble\u2019s Snick-needles\n(Wil.), the greater stitchwort, _Stellaria Holostea_; Puppy-dog\u2019s Mouth\n(Wil.), the yellow toadflax, _Linaria vulgaris_; Tailor\u2019s Garters (Sc.),\nthe ribbon-grass, _Phalaris arundinacea variegata_; Two faces under a\nhat (Sus.), the common columbine. Peace and plenty (Wil.), the London\npride, _Saxifraga umbrosa_; Pretty and little (Dev.), the Virginia\nstock, _Malcolmia maritima_; Wink-a-peep, or Wink and peep (Lan. Chs.\nStf. Shr.), the scarlet pimpernel, _Anagallis arvensis_. Aunt Hannah\n(e.An.), the white arabis, _Arabis alpina_; Bloody Warrior (common), the\ndark-coloured wallflower; Bobbin Joan (Nhp.), the wild arum; Bouncing\nBess (Dev.), the red valerian, _Centranthus ruber_; Delicate Bess\n(Dev.), the white valerian, _Valeriana celtica_; Bridget in her bravery\n(Lin.), the rose-campion, _Lychnis chalcedonica_; Gill run by the ground\n(Lin. Bck. Som.), the ground-ivy; Grim the collier (War. Shr. Glo. Som.\nSus.), the orange hawkweed, _Hieracium aurantiacum_; Jack in green\ndoublet (Stf.), a variety of _Primula vulgaris_ in which the calyx is\ntransformed into leaves; John go to bed at noon (Chs. Nhp.), the scarlet\npimpernel; Sweet Nancy (Lan. Chs. Nrf. Hmp.), the pheasant-eyed\nnarcissus; Pink-eyed John (Midl.), the pansy; Robin Hood (w.Cy. Dor.\nSom. Dev.), the red campion, _Lychnis diurna_; Trembling Jock (Yks.), or\n-jockies, the quaking-grass, _Briza media_, dried in bunches, and kept\non the mantel-piece, because it is supposed to be obnoxious to mice: A\ntrimmling-jock in t\u2019house, An\u2019 you weeant hev a mouse.\n\nNames for the common pansy are: Jump up and kiss me (Sus. Hmp.); Meet\nher in the entry kiss her in the buttery (Lin.); Kiss me behind the\ngarden gate (Wor. Nrf. Suf.), or Kiss me at the garden gate (Nhp.\ne.An.); Kiss me John at the garden gate (Suf.); Meet me Love behind the\ngarden door. Kiss behind the garden gate (Brks. Glo. Wil.), and Meet me\nLove (Dev.) are names also given to the London pride. Kiss me quick and\ngo (Dev.) is a name for lad\u2019s love, _Artemisia Abrotanum_; Lift up your\nhead and I\u2019ll kiss you (Wor.) is the _Dielytra spectabilis_; Kitty come\ndown the lane jump up and kiss me (Ken.) is the cuckoo-pint, _Arum\nmaculatum_; Granny jump out of bed (Wil.) is another name for the\nmonkshood; Welcome home husband tho\u2019 never so drunk (Suf.) is the yellow\nstonecrop, _Sedum acre_.\n\nThe hail-fellow-well-met spirit of the rustic towards the world of\nNature and all that is therein, which shows itself in plant-names like\nSaucy Betty, is still more noticeable in his use of personal names for\nliving animals--toads, and even insects included. According to Dr.\nSmythe Palmer in his book on _The Folk and their Word-lore_, some of\nthese names are due to popular etymology, as for instance, Isaac, the\nhedge-sparrow, from _hay-suck_, O.E. _hege-sugge_, i.e. the\nhedge-sucker. In the same way Sweet Alice is said to be a corruption of\n_sweet allison_, _Alyssum maritimum_. But even if a few of the names\nadmit of this prosaic derivation, it does but enhance their interest, by\nmaking them proofs of the common tendency towards individual names.\n\n[Sidenote: _Personal Names for Birds_]\n\nAmongst the names for the common sparrow is Philip (Chs. Nhp.), a name\nof very old standing. Skelton wrote an elegy entitled _A litle boke of\nPhilip Sparrow_, being the lament of a nun for the untimely death of her\npet sparrow, slain by a cat. The hedge-sparrow is Betty (War.), and\nJuggy (Not.), the latter name being given also to the wren (Lei. Sus.).\nIt is a derivative of Jug, formerly a favourite female name, cp. \u2018Jug,\n_Johannicula_\u2019, Coles, 1679, and Shakespeare\u2019s \u2018Whoop, Jug! I love\nthee\u2019, _K. Lear_, I. iv. 245. The missel-thrush is called Charlie-cock\n(e.Yks.); the starling, Jacob (Nhp.); and Joey (Oxf.), a name shared by\nthe green linnet (War.), and the toad (Ken.); the redwing is Jan Shewall\n(Cor.); the goldfinch is Jack-a-nickas, or Jack Nicol (Chs. Wal.). A\ncurious little instance of the way in which Dr. Johnson\u2019s knowledge and\nlove of his native dialect crops up in his Dictionary occurs under the\nheading \u2018Goldfinch\u2019, cp. \u2018Goldfinch.... A singing bird, so named from\nhis golden colour. This is called in Staffordshire a _proud taylor_.\u2019 In\nmost of the Midland counties, including Staffordshire, and in others to\nthe north and south-west, the goldfinch still bears the name of Proud\nTailor. The redstart is Katie bran\u2019-tail (Shr.); the owl is Josey (Wor.\nDev.); Madge-howlet (Wor. Nrf.), a name found in Jonson\u2019s _Every Man_,\n1598; and Billy-wix (e.An.). Maggie-monyfeet (Sc.) is a centipede. The\nvery common name of Maggot, or Magotty-pie, for the magpie is the same\nword as Magot, a pet form, now obsolete, of the name Margaret, cp. Fr.\n_Margot_, \u2018diminutif tr\u00e8s familier de Marguerite, nom vulgaire de la\npie,\u2019 Littr\u00e9. The heron is Moll-hern, or Molly-heron (Midl. Wil.),\npronounced in Oxford Mollern, with the accent on the first syllable;\nJoan-na-ma-crank (Cum.); and Frank (Sc. e.An.), from its harsh cry which\nsounds like Frank! Frank! The whitecap is Peggy-whitethroat (Nhp.); the\nraven is Ralph (Chs. Nhp.): the cock bird in the poultry yard is Richard\n(Som.); the pied wagtail is Polly-dishwasher (Wil.), or\nPolly-wash-dishes (e.An. Dor. Som.). It is interesting to note in\nconnexion with the geographical distribution of this name in modern\ntimes, that Dr. Johnson includes \u2018Dish-washer\u2019 in his Dictionary as:\n\u2018The name of a bird,\u2019 without being able to specify the kind of bird to\nwhich it belonged. No doubt he had heard the name casually, but neither\nhe nor his Scottish assistants were familiar with its use.\n\n[Sidenote: _Names for Birds and the Hare_]\n\nThe name Wat (Nrf. Cor.) for the hare occurs in Shakespeare\u2019s _Venus\nand Adonis_, cp.:\n\n    By this, poor Wat, far off upon a hill,\n    Stands on his hinder legs with listening ear.\n\nIn Cumberland the hare is Katie. In Herefordshire it was Sarah, so the\ngardener said, that came in the early morning hours, and while men still\nslept, browsed on the young green of the pinks in the big bed on our\nRectory lawn. In Norfolk the marshmen call her Old Aunt. The rabbit in\nCumberland bears the nickname of Johnny Wapstraw. A Berkshire mouse is\nsometimes called Moses, a name given in Kent to a young frog. In parts\nof Scotland the pig is familiarly addressed as Sandy Campbell. The toad\nis Thomas (Chs.); the cockchafer is Tom Beadle (Cum. Lan.); the\nguinea-fowl is Tom-pot (Dev.), so named from its peculiar cry. For the\nsame reason it is called Swap-hats (w.Som.), and Come-back, this last\nbeing the most widely known dialect name for the bird.\n\n[Sidenote: _Names given to Animals_]\n\nThe donkey goes by a number of names: Balaam (e.An.); Jeremiah (Suf.);\nPeter Moguz (Cor.), &c.; a female donkey in Lincolnshire is a Jen-ass. A\ntom-cat in Suffolk is a Jim-cat; and a she-cat is a Betty-cat. One is\ntempted to suggest that this last name is due to association of\nideas--the domestic cat, the fireside, and the kettle singing on the\nhob--for in East Anglia the kettle is nicknamed Betty, and the common\nproverb takes the form of: That\u2019s the saucepan calling the kettle Betty\nBlack.\n\nWhen the author of that delightful book _The Rose and the Ring_ tells\nus how Valoroso XXIV, King of Paflagonia, gave a small family\ndinner-party in honour of Prince Bulbo, he writes: \u2018You may be sure\nthey had a very good dinner--let every boy or girl think of what he or\nshe likes best, and fancy it on the table,\u2019 with the added footnote:\n\u2018Here a very pretty game may be played by all the children saying what\nthey like best for dinner.\u2019 So here I will leave my readers to amuse\nthemselves by thinking of all the choice morsels of dialect lore, which\nthey specially love, and which have not been recorded in the foregoing\nchapters; knowing as I do full well, that many a feast can yet be\nspread before the store of good things is exhausted.\n\n\n\n\nTranscriber\u2019s Note:\n\n\nThe following addendum was printed at the end of the book, and has\nbeen incorporated into the text: \u201cTo VIII on p. 149 add: The stressed\nform of the nominative is generally _\u00f0\u0113_ or _\u00f0e\u0259_, but in some midl.\nand s. dialects it is _\u00f0ai_ or _\u00f0ei_, and in Sh. and Or.I. n.Ken. Sus.\n_d\u0113_, rarely _dei_. The unstressed form is generally _\u00f0e_ or _\u00f0\u0259_,\nrarely _\u00f0i_.\u201d The reference to the addendum \u201cSee p.342.\u201d has been\nremoved from page 149.\n\nIn the original sometimes the abbreviation \u201cc.\u201d is italicized, and\nsometimes not. They have been left as they were printed.\n\nSome words have been abbreviated in more than one way (e.g. s.w. and\nsw. for south-west). These have not been standardized.\n\nIn the original, citations for quoted poetry were printed on the last\nline of the quotation if there was room, with a long dash between the\npoem and the citation; if there was not room, the citation was printed\non the following line. This convention has been followed here, where,\nfor reasons of space, a citation has had to be moved up or down a line.\n\nThis book contains inconsistent hyphenations which have been left as\nprinted. A few minor changes to punctuation have been made without\ncomment, and the case of roman numerals in references has been made\nconsistent.\n\nOther changes that have been made are:\n\n   Page 36: \u201c s\u201d has been changed to \u201cis\u201d in \u201cit is a Norse word\u201d.\n\n   Page 244: \u201ctall\u201d has been changed to \u201ctail\u201d in \u201cTo safeguard a child\n   from the infection of measles, place it on the back of a donkey,\n   facing the animal\u2019s tail ...\u201d.\n\nThe page headings from the original book have been transcribed as side\nnotes, e.g. [Sidenote: _Popular Meteorology_], and are normally shown\nat the start of the paragraph in which they occur, but occasionally\nafter a quotation from a poem. The use of quotation marks in these page\nheadings does not appear to be consistent, however they have not been\nchanged. In some cases the left-hand page heading represents a division\nof a chapter (e.g. \u201cAccidence\u201d), and the right-hand page heading a\nsub-division (e.g. \u201cPronouns\u201d), these have been combined with a colon,\n(e.g. \u201cAccidence: Pronouns\u201d).","title":"Rustic Speech and Folk-Lore","tradition":"myth-cosmogony","translated_text":null,"word_count":127856}