{"collection":"myth-cosmogony","full_text_available":true,"graph_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/api/page/gutenberg_59033/graph","html_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/page/gutenberg_59033","id":"gutenberg_59033","license":"Public Domain (US)","rights_basis":"gutenberg_metadata_copyright_false","source":"gutenberg","source_url":"https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/59033","summary":null,"tags":["Category: History - Religious","Category: Mythology, Legends & Folklore","Cornwall (England : County) -- Social life and customs","Folklore -- England -- Cornwall (County)","Legends -- England -- Cornwall (County)","Oral tradition -- England -- Cornwall (County)"],"text":"Produced by Chris Curnow and the Online Distributed\nProofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This file was\nproduced from images generously made available by The\nInternet Archive)\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n[Illustration: A Flight of Witches.]\n\n\n\n\n POPULAR ROMANCES\n OF THE\n WEST OF ENGLAND;\n\n OR,\n\n The Drolls, Traditions, and Superstitions of\n Old Cornwall.\n\n COLLECTED AND EDITED BY\n ROBERT HUNT, F.R.S.\n\n [Illustration]\n\n SECOND SERIES.\n\n LONDON:\n JOHN CAMDEN HOTTEN, PICCADILLY.\n 1865.\n\n [_Right of Translation is reserved._]\n\n\n\n\n\u201c\u2018Have you any stories like that, gudewife?\u2019\n\n\u201c\u2018Ah,\u2019 she said; \u2018there were plenty of people that could tell those\nstories once. I used to hear them telling them over the fire at night;\nbut people is so changed with pride now, that they care for nothing.\u2019\u201d\n\n CAMPBELL.\n\nLONDON: JOHN CAMDEN HOTTEN, PICCADILLY.\n\n\n\n\nCONTENTS.\n\n\n PAGE\n\n THE SAINTS.\n\n 1. Legends of the Saints, 3\n\n 2. The Crowza Stones, 5\n\n 3. The Longstone, 7\n\n 4. St Sennen and St Just, 8\n\n 5. Legends of St Leven\u2014\n\n The Saint and Johana, 9\n\n The Saint\u2019s Path, 10\n\n The St Leven Stone, 10\n\n The Two Breams, 11\n\n 10. St Keyne, 12\n\n 11. St Dennis\u2019s Blood, 15\n\n 12. St Kea\u2019s Boat, 16\n\n 13. St German\u2019s Well, 17\n\n 14. How St Piran reached Cornwall, 19\n\n 15. St Perran, the Miner\u2019s Saint, 20\n\n 16. The Discovery of Tin, 21\n\n 17. St Neot, the Pigmy, 22\n\n 18. St Neot and the Fox, 23\n\n 19. St Neot and the Doe, 23\n\n 20. St Neot and the Thieves, 24\n\n 21. St Neot and the Fishes, 25\n\n 22. Probus and Grace, 26\n\n 23. St Nectan\u2019s Kieve and the Lonely Sisters, 27\n\n 24. Theodore, King of Cornwall, 33\n\n HOLY WELLS.\n\n 25. Well-Worship, 35\n\n 26. The Well of St Constantine, 38\n\n 27. The Well of St Ludgvan, 39\n\n 28. Gulval Well, 43\n\n 29. The Well of St Keyne, 45\n\n 30. Maddern or Madron Well, 47\n\n 31. The Well at Altar-Nun, 50\n\n 32. St Gundred\u2019s Well at Roach Rock, 53\n\n 33. St Cuthbert\u2019s or Cubert\u2019s Well, 54\n\n 34. Rickety Children, 55\n\n 35. Chapell Uny, 56\n\n 36. Perran Well, 56\n\n 37. Redruth Well, 56\n\n 38. Holy Well at Little Conan, 56\n\n 39. The Preservation of Holy Wells, 57\n\n KING ARTHUR.\n\n 40. Arthur Legends, 59\n\n 41. The Battle of Vellan-druchar, 62\n\n 42. Arthur at the Land\u2019s End, 63\n\n 43. Traditions of the Danes in Cornwall, 65\n\n 44. King Arthur in the Form of a Chough, 66\n\n 45. The Cornish Chough, 68\n\n 46. Slaughter Bridge, 68\n\n 47. Camelford and King Arthur, 69\n\n 48. Dameliock Castle, 71\n\n 49. Carlian in Kea, 71\n\n SORCERY AND WITCHCRAFT.\n\n 50. The \u201cCunning Man,\u201d 73\n\n 51. Notes on Witchcraft, 76\n\n 52. Ill-wishing, 78\n\n 53. The \u201cPeller,\u201d 81\n\n 54. Bewitched Cattle, 82\n\n 55. How to Become a Witch, 83\n\n 56. Cornish Sorcerers, 83\n\n 57. How Pengerswick Became a Sorcerer, 84\n\n 58. The Lord of Pengerswick an Enchanter, 86\n\n 59. The Witch of Fraddam and Pengerswick, 90\n\n 60. Trewa, the Home of Witches, 92\n\n 61. Kenidzhek Witch, 93\n\n 62. The Witches of the Logan Stone, 94\n\n 63. Madgy Figgy\u2019s Chair, 96\n\n 64. Old Madge Figgey and the Pig, 99\n\n 65. Madam Noy and Old Joan, 101\n\n 66. The Witch of Treva, 102\n\n 67. How Mr Lenine Gave Up Courting, 104\n\n 68. The Witch and the Toad, 105\n\n 69. The Sailor Wizard, 108\n\n THE MINERS.\n\n 70. Traditions of Tinners, 111\n\n 71. The Tinner of Chyannor, 115\n\n 72. Who are the Knockers? 118\n\n 73. Miners\u2019 Superstitions, 122\n\n 74. Christmas-Eve in the Mines, 123\n\n 75. Warnings and \u201cTokens,\u201d 124\n\n 76. The Ghost on Horseback, 125\n\n 77. The Black Dogs, 126\n\n 78. Pitmen\u2019s Omens and Goblins, 126\n\n 79. The Dead Hand, 128\n\n 80. Dorcas, the Spirit of Polbreen Mine, 129\n\n 81. Hingston Downs, 131\n\n FISHERMEN AND SAILORS.\n\n 82. The Pilot\u2019s Ghost Story, 133\n\n 83. The Phantom Ship, 135\n\n 84. Jack Harry\u2019s Lights, 136\n\n 85. The Pirate-Wrecker and the Death Ship, 137\n\n 86. The Spectre Ship of Porthcurno, 141\n\n 87. The Lady with the Lantern, 143\n\n 88. The Drowned \u201cHailing their Names,\u201d 146\n\n 89. The Voice from the Sea, 146\n\n 90. The Smuggler\u2019s Token, 147\n\n 91. The Hooper of Sennen Cove, 148\n\n 92. How to Eat Pilchards, 149\n\n 93. Pilchards Crying for More, 149\n\n 94. The Pressing-Stones, 149\n\n 95. Whipping the Hake, 152\n\n DEATH SUPERSTITIONS.\n\n 96. The Death Token of the Vingoes, 155\n\n 97. The Death Fetch of William Rufus, 156\n\n 98. Sir John Arundell, 157\n\n 99. Phantoms of the Dying, 158\n\n 100. The White Hare, 162\n\n 101. The Hand of a Suicide, 164\n\n 102. The North Side of a Church, 164\n\n 103. Popular Superstitions, 165\n\n OLD USAGES.\n\n 104. Sanding the Step on New Year\u2019s-Day, 169\n\n 105. May-Day, 170\n\n 106. Shrove Tuesday at St Ives, 171\n\n 107. \u201cThe Furry,\u201d Helstone, 171\n\n 108. Midsummer Superstitious Customs, 172\n\n 109. Crying the Neck, 173\n\n 110. Drinking to the Apple-Trees on Twelfth Night Eve, 175\n\n 111. Allhallows-Eve at St Ives, 177\n\n 112. The Twelfth Cake, 177\n\n 113. Oxen Pray on Christmas Eve, 178\n\n 114. \u201cSt George\u201d\u2014The Christmas Plays, 179\n\n 115. Geese-Dancing\u2014Plough Monday, 182\n\n 116. Christmas at St Ives, 183\n\n 117. Lady Lovell\u2019s Courtship, 188\n\n 118. The Game of Hurling, 193\n\n 119. Sham Mayors\u2014\n\n The Mayor of Mylor, 196\n\n The Mayor of St Germans, 197\n\n The Mayor of Halgaver Moor, 198\n\n 120. The Faction Fight at Cury Great Tree, 198\n\n 121. Towednack Cuckoo Feast, 200\n\n 122. The Duke of Restormel, 200\n\n POPULAR SUPERSTITIONS.\n\n 123. Charming, and Prophetic Power, 203\n\n 124. Fortune-Telling, Charms, &c., 204\n\n 125. The Zennor Charmers, 208\n\n 126. J. H., the Conjurer of St Colomb, 209\n\n 127. Cures for Warts, 210\n\n 128. A Cure for Paralysis, 212\n\n 129. A Cure for Rheumatism, 212\n\n 130. Sundry Charms, 213\n\n 131. Cure for Colic in Towednack, 213\n\n 132. For a Scald or Burn, 213\n\n 133. Charms for Inflammatory Diseases, 213\n\n 134. Charms for the Prick of a Thorn, 213\n\n 135. Charms for Stanching of Blood, 214\n\n 136. Charm for a Tetter, 214\n\n 137. Charm for the Sting of a Nettle, 215\n\n 138. Charm for Toothache, 215\n\n 139. Charm for Serpents, 215\n\n 140. The Cure of Boils, 215\n\n 141. Rickets, or a Crick in the Back, 215\n\n 142. The Club-Moss, 216\n\n 143. Moon Superstitions, 217\n\n 144. Cures for Whooping-Cough, 218\n\n 145. Cure of Toothache, 219\n\n 146. The Convalescent\u2019s Walk, 220\n\n 147. Adders, and the Milpreve, 220\n\n 148. Snakes Avoid the Ash-Tree, 223\n\n 149. To Charm a Snake, 223\n\n 150. The Ash-Tree, 224\n\n 151. Rhyme on the Even Ash, 225\n\n 152. A Test of Innocency, 225\n\n 153. The Bonfire Test, 226\n\n 154. Lights Seen by the Converted, 226\n\n 155. The Migratory Birds, 226\n\n 156. Shooting Stars, 227\n\n 157. The Sun Never Shines on the Perjured, 228\n\n 158. Characteristics, 229\n\n 159. The Mutton Feast, 232\n\n 160. The Floating Grindstone, 232\n\n 161. Celts\u2014Flint Arrow-heads, &c., 233\n\n 162. Horns on the Church Tower, 233\n\n 163. Tea-Stalks and Smut, 234\n\n 164. An Old Cornish Rhyme, 234\n\n 165. To Choose a Wife, 234\n\n 166. The Robin and the Wren, 235\n\n 167. To Secure Good Luck for a Child, 235\n\n 168. Innocency, 235\n\n 169. Rain at Bridal or Burial, 235\n\n 170. Crowing Hens, &c., 236\n\n 171. The New Moon, 236\n\n 172. Looking-Glasses, 236\n\n 173. The Magpie, 236\n\n 174. The Month of May Unlucky, 237\n\n 175. On the Births of Children, 237\n\n 176. On Washing Linen, 237\n\n 177. Itching Ears, 237\n\n 178. The Spark on the Candle, 238\n\n 179. The Blue Vein, 238\n\n 180. The Croaking of the Raven, 238\n\n 181. Whistling, 239\n\n 182. Meeting on the Stairs, 239\n\n 183. Treading on Graves, 239\n\n 184. A Loose Garter, 240\n\n 185. To Cure the Hiccough, 240\n\n 186. The Sleeping Foot, 240\n\n 187. The Horse-Shoe, 240\n\n 188. The Black Cat\u2019s Tail, 240\n\n 189. Unlucky Things, 241\n\n 190. The Limp Corpse, 241\n\n 191. \u201cBy Hook or by Crook,\u201d 242\n\n 192. Weather Signs, 242\n\n 193. Weather at Liskeard, 243\n\n 194. The First Butterfly, 243\n\n 195. Peculiar Words and Phrases, 244\n\n MISCELLANEOUS STORIES.\n\n 196. The Bells of Forrabury Church, 247\n\n 197. The Tower of Minster Church, 249\n\n 198. Temple Moors, 250\n\n 199. The Legend of Tamara, 251\n\n 200. The Church and the Barn, 252\n\n 201. The Penryn Tragedy, 253\n\n 202. Goldsithney Fair and the Glove, 255\n\n 203. The Harlyn Pie, 256\n\n 204. Packs of Wool the Foundation of the Bridge of Wadebridge, 256\n\n 205. The Last Wolf in England, 258\n\n 206. Churches Built in Performance of Vows, 258\n\n 207. Bolait, the Field of Blood, 259\n\n 208. Woeful Moor, and Bodrigan\u2019s Leap, 261\n\n 209. Pengerswick Castle, 263\n\n 210. The Clerks of Cornwall, 264\n\n 211. A Fairy Caught, 265\n\n 212. The Lizard People, 267\n\n 213. Prussia Cove and Smuggler\u2019s Holes, 267\n\n 214. Cornish Teeny-tiny, 268\n\n 215. The Spaniard at Penryn, 269\n\n 216. Boyer, Mayor of Bodmin, 270\n\n 217. Thomasine Bonaventure, 271\n\n 218. The Last of the Killigrews, 274\n\n 219. Saint Gerennius, 278\n\n 220. Cornish Dialogue, 280\n\n APPENDIX.\n\n A. St Piran\u2014Perran Zabuloe, 287\n\n B. The Discoverer of Tin, 288\n\n C. St Neot, 289\n\n D. The Sisters of Glen-Neot, 290\n\n E. Millington of Pengerswick, 291\n\n F. Saracen, 292\n\n\n\n\nROMANCES AND SUPERSTITIONS OF HISTORIC TIMES.\n\n2D SERIES.\n\nPOPULAR ROMANCES AND SUPERSTITIONS OF THE WEST OF ENGLAND.\n\n\n\n\nTHE SAINTS.\n\n \u201cWith great pretended spiritual motions,\n And many fine whimsical notions,\n With blind zeal and large devotions.\u201d\n\n SAMUEL BUTLER.\n\n\n\n\nLEGENDS OF THE SAINTS.\n\n \u201cThis ilk\u00eb monk let olde thing\u00ebs pace,\n And held after the new\u00eb world the trace.\n He gave not of the text a pulled hen,\n That saith, that hunters be not holy men,\n Ne that a monk, when he is reck\u00ebless,\n Is like to a fish that is waterless;\n This is to say, a monk out of his cloister,\n This ilk\u00eb text held he not worth an oyster,\n And I say his opinion was good.\u201d\n\n _The Canterbury Tales_\u2014CHAUCER.\n\nThe process through which a man, who has made himself remarkable to\nhis ignorant fellow-men, is passed after death\u2014first, into the hero\nperforming fabulous exploits, and eventually into the giant\u2014is not\ndifficult to understand.\n\nThe remembrance of great deeds, and the memory of virtues,\u2014even in modern\ndays, when the exaggerations of votaries are subdued by the influence\nof education,\u2014ever tends to bring them out in strong contrast with the\nsurrounding objects. The mass of men form the background, as it were, of\nthe picture, and the hero or the saint stands forth in all his brightness\nof colour in the foreground.\n\nAmidst the uneducated Celtic population who inhabited Old Cornwall, it\nwas the practice, as with the Celts of other countries, to exalt their\nbenefactors with all the adornments of that hyperbole which distinguishes\ntheir songs and stories. When the first Christian missionaries dwelt\namongst this people, they impressed them with the daring which they\nexhibited by the persecution which they uncomplainingly endured and the\nholy lives they led.\n\nThose who were morally so superior to the living men, were represented\nas physically so to their children, and every generation adorned the\nrelation which it had received with the ornaments derived from their own\nimaginations, which had been tutored amidst the severer scenes of nature;\nand consequently the warrior, or the holy man, was transmuted into the\ngiant.\n\nIf to this we add the desire which was constantly shewn by the earlier\npriesthood to persuade the people of their miraculous powers\u2014of the\ndirect interference of Heaven in their behalf\u2014and of the violent\nconflicts which they were occasionally enduring with the enemy of the\nhuman race, there will be no difficulty in marking out the steps by which\nthe ordinary man has become an extraordinary hero. When we hear of the\nsaints to whose memories the parish churches are dedicated, being enabled\nto hurl rocks of enormous size through the air, to carry them in their\npockets, and indeed to use them as playthings, we perceive that the\ntraditions of the legitimate giants, have been transferred to, and mixed\nup with, the memories of a more recent people.\n\nIn addition to legends of the Titanic type, this section will include a\nfew of the true monastic character. The only purpose I have in giving\nthese is to preserve, as examples, some curious superstitions which have\nnot yet entirely lost their hold on the people.\n\n\nTHE CROWZA STONES.\n\nSt Just, from his home in Penwith, being weary of having little to do,\nexcept offering prayers for the tinners and fishermen, went on a visit to\nthe hospitable St Keverne, who had fixed his hermitage in a well-selected\nspot, not far from the Lizard headland. The holy brothers rejoiced\ntogether, and in full feeding and deep drinking they pleasantly passed\nthe time. St Just gloried in the goodly chalice from which he drank the\nrichest of wines, and envied St Keverne the possession of a cup of such\nrare value. Again and again did he pledge St Keverne; their holy bond\nof brotherhood was to be for ever; Heaven was to witness the purity\nof their friendship, and to the world they were to become patterns of\necclesiastical love.\n\nThe time came when St Just felt he must return to his flock; and\nrepeating over again his vows, and begging St Keverne to return his\nvisit, he departed\u2014St Keverne sending many a blessing after his good\nbrother.\n\nThe Saint of the west, had not left his brother of the south, many hours\nbefore the latter missed his cup. Diligent search was made in every\ncorner of his dwelling, but no cup could be found. At length St Keverne\ncould not but feel that he had been robbed of his treasure by his western\nfriend. That one in whom he had placed such confidence\u2014one to whom he\nhad opened his heart, and to whom he had shewn the most unstinting\nhospitality\u2014should have behaved so treacherously, overcame the serenity\nof the good man. His rage was excessive. After the first burst was over,\nand reason reasserted her power, St Keverne felt that his wisest course\nwas to pursue the thief, inflict summary punishment on him, and recover\nhis cup. The thought was followed by a firm resolve, and away St Keverne\nstarted in pursuit of St Just. Passing over Crowza Down, some of the\nboulders of \u201cIronstone\u201d which are scattered over the surface caught his\neye, and presently he whipped a few of these stone pebbles into his\npockets, and hastened onward.\n\nWhen he drew near Tre-men-keverne he spied St Just. St Keverne worked\nhimself up into a boiling rage, and toiled with increased speed up the\nhill, hallooing to the saintly thief, who pursued his way for some time\nin the well-assumed quiet of conscious innocence.\n\nLong and loud did St Keverne call on St Just to stop, but the latter was\ndeaf to all calls of the kind\u2014on he went, quickening, however, his pace a\nlittle.\n\nAt length St Keverne came within a stone\u2019s throw of the dissembling\nculprit, and calling him a thief\u2014adding thereto some of the most choice\nepithets from his holy vocabulary\u2014taking a stone from his pocket, he let\nit fly after St Just.\n\nThe stone falling heavily by the side of St Just convinced him that he\nhad to deal with an awkward enemy, and that he had best make all the\nuse he could of his legs. He quietly untied the chalice, which he had\nfastened to his girdle, and let it fall to the ground. Then, still as if\nunconscious of his follower, he set off to run as fast as his ponderous\nbody would allow his legs to carry him. St Keverne came up to where his\ncup glistened in the sunshine. He had recovered his treasure, he should\nget no good out of the false friend, and he was sadly jaded with his long\nrun. Therefore he took, one by one, the stones from his pockets\u2014he hurled\nthem, fairly aimed, after the retreating culprit, and cursed him as he\nwent.\n\nThere the pebbles remain where they fell,\u2014the peculiarity of the stone\nbeing in all respects unlike anything around, but being clearly the\nCrowza stones,\u2014attesting the truth of the legend; and their weights,\neach one being several hundred pounds, proving the power of the giant\nsaint.\n\nMany have been the attempts made to remove these stones. They are carried\naway easily enough by day, but they ever return to the spot on which they\nnow repose, at night.\n\n\nTHE LONGSTONE.\n\nTHE GIANT\u2019S HAT AND STAFF.\n\nSome say it was St Roach, others refer it to St Austell; but all agree\nin one thing, that the Longstone was once the staff of some holy man,\nand that its present state is owing to the malignant persecution of the\ndemon of darkness. It happened after this manner. The good saint who\nhad been engaged in some mission was returning to his cell across St\nAustell Downs. The night had been fine, the clearness of the sky and the\nbrightness of the stars conduced to religious thoughts, and those of the\nsaint fled heavenwards. The devil was wandering abroad that night, and\nmaliciously he resolved to play a trick upon his enemy. The saint was\nwrapt in thought. The devil was working his dire spells. The sky became\nblack, the stars disappeared, and suddenly a terrific rush of wind seized\nthe saint, whirled him round and round, and at last blew his hat high\ninto the air. The hat went ricocheting over the moor and the saint after\nit, the devil enjoying the sport. The long stick which the saint carried\nimpeded his progress in the storm, and he stuck it into the ground. On\nwent the hat, speedily followed the saint over and round the moor, until\nthoroughly wearied out, he at length gave up the chase. He, now exposed\nto the beat of the tempest bareheaded, endeavoured to find his way to\nhis cell, and thought to pick up his staff on the way. No staff could be\nfound in the darkness, and his hat was, he thought, gone irrecoverably.\nAt length the saint reached his cell, he quieted his spirit by prayer,\nand sought the forgetfulness of sleep, safe under the protection of the\nholy cross, from all the tricks of the devil. The evil one, however, was\nat work on the wild moor, and by his incantations he changed the hat and\nthe staff into two rocks. Morning came, the saint went abroad seeking for\nhis lost covering and support. He found them both\u2014one a huge circular\nboulder, and the other a long stone which remains to this day.[1]\n\nThe Saint\u2019s, or, as it was often called, the Giant\u2019s Hat was removed\nin 1798 by a regiment of soldiers who were encamped near it. They felt\nsatisfied that this mysterious stone was the cause of the wet season\nwhich rendered their camp unpleasant, and consequently they resolved to\nremove the evil spell by destroying it.\n\n\nST SENNEN AND ST JUST.\n\nThese saints held rule over adjoining parishes; but, like neighbours, not\nunfrequently, they quarrelled. We know not the cause which made their\nangry passions rise; but no doubt the saints were occasionally exposed\nto the influences of the evil principle, which appears to be one of\nthe ruling powers of the world. It is not often that we have instances\nof excess of passion in man or woman without some evidence of the evil\nresulting from it. Every tempest in the physical world leaves its mark\non the face of the earth. Every tempest in the moral world, in a similar\nmanner, leaves some scar to tell of its ravages on the soul. A most\nenduring monument in granite tells us of the rage to which those two\nholy men were the victims. As we have said, there is no record of the\norigin of the duel which was fought between St Just and St Sennen; but,\nin the fury of their rage, they tore each a rock from the granite mass,\nand hurled it onwards to destroy his brother. They were so well aimed\nthat both saints must have perished had the rocks been allowed to travel\nas intended. A merciful hand guided them, though in opposite directions,\nin precisely the same path. The huge rocks came together; so severe was\nthe blow of impact that they became one mass, and fell to the ground, to\nremain a monument of the impotent rage of two giants.\n\n\nLEGENDS OF ST LEVEN.\n\n\nI.\u2014THE SAINT AND JOHANA.\n\nThe walls of what are supposed to be the hut of St Leven are still to\nbe seen at Bodellen. If you walk from Bodellen to St Leven Church, on\npassing near the stile in Rospletha you will see a three-cornered garden.\nThis belonged to a woman who is only known to us as Johana. Johana\u2019s\nGarden is still the name of the place. One Sunday morning St Leven was\npassing over the stile to go as usual to his fishing-place below the\nchurch, to catch his dinner. Johana was in the garden picking pot-herbs\nat the time, and she lectured the holy man for fishing on a Sunday. They\ncame to high words, and St Leven told Johana that there was no more sin\nin taking his dinner from the sea than she herself committed in taking\nhers from the garden. The saint called her foolish Johana, and said if\nanother of her name was christened in his well she should be a bigger\nfool than Johana herself. From that day to this no child called Johana\nhas been christened in St Leven. All parents who desire to give that\nname to their daughters, dreading St Leven\u2019s curse, take the children to\nSennen.\n\n\nII.\u2014THE SAINT\u2019S PATH.\n\nThe path along which St Leven was accustomed to walk from Bodellen, by\nRospletha, on to St Leven\u2019s Rocks, as they are still called, may be yet\nseen; the grass grows greener wherever the good priest trod than in any\nother part of the fields through which the footpath passes.\n\n\nIII.\u2014THE ST LEVEN STONE.\n\nOn the south side of the church, to the east of the porch, is a rock\nknown by the above name. It is broken in two, and the fissure is filled\nin with ferns and wild flowers, while the grass grows rank around it. On\nthis rock St Leven often sat to rest after the fatigue of fishing; and\ndesiring to leave some enduring memento of himself in connexion with this\nhis rude but favourite seat, he one day gave it a blow with his fist and\ncracked it through. He prayed over the rock, and uttered the following\nprophecy:\u2014\n\n \u201cWhen, with panniers astride,\n A packhorse one can ride\n Through St Leven\u2019s Stone,\n The world will be done.\u201d\n\nThis stone must have been venerated for the saint\u2019s sake when the church\nwas built, or it would certainly have been employed for the building. It\nis more than fifty years since I first made acquaintance, as a child,\nwith the St Leven Stone, and it may be a satisfaction to many to know\nthat the progress of separation is an exceedingly slow one. I cannot\ndetect the slightest difference in the width of the fissure now and then.\nAt the present slow rate of opening, the packhorse and panniers will not\nbe able to pass through the rock for many thousands of years to come. We\nneed not, therefore, place much reliance on those prophecies which give\nbut a limited duration to this planet.[2]\n\n\nIV.\u2014THE TWO BREAMS.\n\nAlthough in common with many of the churches in the remote districts of\nCornwall, \u201cdecay\u2019s effacing fingers\u201d have been allowed to do their work\nin St Leven Church, yet there still remains some of the ornamental work\nwhich once adorned it. Much of the carving is irremediably gone; but\nstill the inquirer will find that it once told the story of important\nevents in the life of the good St Leven. Two fishes on the same hook form\nthe device, which appears at one time to have prevailed in this church.\nThese are to commemorate a remarkable incident in St Leven\u2019s life. One\nlovely evening about sunset, St Leven was on his rocks fishing. There was\na heavy pull upon his line, and drawing it in, he found two breams on the\nsame hook. The good saint, anxious to serve both alike, to avoid, indeed,\neven the appearance of partiality, took both the fishes off the hook,\nand cast them back into the sea. Again they came to the hook, and again\nwere they returned to their native elements. The line was no sooner cast\na third time than the same two fishes hooked themselves once more. St\nLeven thought there must be some reason unknown to him for this strange\noccurrence, so he took both the fishes home with him. When the saint\nreached Bodellen, he found his sister, St Breage,[3] had come to visit\nhim with two children. Then he thought he saw the hand of Providence at\nwork in guiding the fish to his hook.\n\nEven saints are blind when they attempt to fathom the ways of the Unseen.\nThe fish were, of course, cooked for supper; and the saint having asked\na blessing upon their savoury meal, all sat down to partake of it. The\nchildren had walked far, and they were ravenously hungry. They ate their\nsuppers with rapidity, and, not taking time to pick out the bones of the\nfish, they were both choked. The apparent blessing was thus transformed\ninto a curse, and the bream has from that day forward ever gone by the\nname, amongst fishermen, of \u201cchoke children.\u201d\n\nThere are many disputes as to the fish concerned in this legend. Some of\nthe fishermen of St Leven parish have insisted upon their being \u201cchad,\u201d\n(the shad, _clupeida alosa_;) while others, with the strong evidence\nafforded by the bony structure of the fish, will have it to have been the\nbream, (_cyprinus brama_.) My young readers warned by the name, should be\nequally careful in eating either of those fish.\n\n\nSAINT KEYNE.\n\nBraghan, or Brechan, was a king in Wales, and the builder of the town\nof Brecknock. This worthy old king and saint was the happy father of\ntwenty-six children, or, as some say, twenty-four. Of these, fourteen\nor fifteen were sainted for their holiness, and their portraits are\npreserved within a fold of the kingly robe of the saint, their father, in\nthe window at St Neot\u2019s Church, bearing the inscription, \u201cSante Brechane,\ncum omnibus sanctis, ora pro nobis,\u201d and known as the young women\u2019s\nwindow.\n\nOf the holy children settled in Cornwall, we learn that the following\ngave their names to Cornish churches:\u2014\n\n 1. John, giving name to the Church of St Ive.\n 2. Endellient, \u201d \u201d Endellion.\n 3. Menfre, \u201d \u201d St Minver.\n 4. Tethe, \u201d \u201d St Teath.\n 5. Mabena, \u201d \u201d St Mabyn.\n 6. Merewenna, \u201d \u201d Marham.\n 7. Wenna, \u201d \u201d St Wenn.\n 8. KEYNE, \u201d \u201d ST KEYNE.\n 9. Yse, \u201d \u201d St Issey.\n 10. Morwenna, \u201d \u201d Morwinstow.\n 11. Cleder, \u201d \u201d St Clether.\n 12. Keri, \u201d \u201d Egloskerry.\n 13. Helie, \u201d \u201d Egloshayle.\n 14. Adwent, \u201d \u201d Advent.\n 15. Lanent, \u201d \u201d Lelant.[4]\n\nOf this remarkable family St Keyne stands out as the brightest star.\nLovely beyond measure, she wandered over the country safe, even in\nlawless times, from insult, by \u201cthe strength of her purity.\u201d\n\nWe find this virtuous woman performing miracles wherever she went. The\ndistrict now known by the name of Keynsham, in Somersetshire, was in\nthose days infested with serpents. St Keyne, rivaling St Hilda of the\nNorthern Isle, changed them all into coils of stone, and there they are\nin the quarries at the present time to attest the truth of the legend.\nGeologists, with more learning than poetry, term them Ammonites,\nderiving their name from the horn of Jupiter Ammon, as if the Egyptian\nJupiter was likely to have charmed serpents in England. We are satisfied\nto leave the question for the consideration of our readers. After a life\nspent in the conversion of sinners, the building of churches, and the\nperformance of miracles, this good woman retired into Cornwall, and in\none of its most picturesque valleys, she sought and found that quiet\nwhich was conducive to a happy termination of a well-spent life. She\ndesired, above all things, \u201cpeace on earth;\u201d and she hoped to benefit\nthe world, by giving to woman a chance of being equal to her lord and\nmaster. A beautiful well of water was near the home of the saint, and she\nplanted, with her blessing, four trees around it\u2014the withy, the oak, the\nelm, and the ash. When the hour of her death was drawing near, St Keyne\ncaused herself to be borne on a litter to the shade which she had formed,\nand soothed by the influence of the murmur of the flowing fountain, she\nblessed the waters, and gave them their wondrous power, thus quaintly\ndescribed by Carew:\u2014\u201cNext, I will relate to you, another of the Cornish\nnatural wonders\u2014viz., St Keyne\u2019s Well; but lest you make wonder, first at\nthe sainte, before you notice the well, you must understand that this was\nnot Kayne the Manqueller, but one of a gentler spirit and milder sex\u2014to\nwit, a woman. He who caused the spring to be pictured, added this rhyme\nfor an explanation:\u2014\n\n \u2018In name, in shape, in quality,\n This well is very quaint;\n The name to lot of Kayne befell,\n No over-holy saint.\n The shape, four trees of divers kind,\n Withy, oak, elm, and ash,\n Make with their roots an arched roof,\n Whose floor this spring does wash.\n The quality, that man or wife,\n Whose chance or choice attains,\n First of this sacred stream to drink,\n Thereby the mastery gains.\u2019\u201d[5]\n\n\nST DENNIS\u2019S BLOOD.\n\nThe patron saint of the parish church of St Dennis was born in the city\nof Athens, in the reign of Tiberius. His name and fame have full record\nin the \u201cHistory of the Saints of the Church of Rome.\u201d How his name was\nconnected with this remote parish is not clearly made out. We learn,\nhowever, that the good man was beheaded at Montmartre, and that he\nwalked after his execution, with his head under his arm, to the place in\nParis which still bears his name. At the very time when the decapitation\ntook place in Paris, _blood fell on the stones of this churchyard_ in\nCornwall. Previously to the breaking out of the plague in London, the\nstains of the blood of St Dennis were again seen; and during our wars\nwith the Dutch, the defeat of the English fleet was foretold by the\nrain of gore in this remote and sequestered place. Hals, the Cornish\nhistorian, with much gravity, informs us that he had seen some of the\nstones with blood upon them. Whenever this phenomenon occurs again we may\nexpect some sad calamity to be near.\n\nSome years since a Cornish gentleman was cruelly murdered, and his body\nthrown into a brook. I have been very lately shewn stones taken from this\nbrook with bright red spots of some vegetable growth on them. It is said\nthat ever since the murder the stones in this brook are spotted with\ngore, whereas they never were so previously to this dreadful deed.\n\n\nST KEA\u2019S BOAT.\n\nSt Kea, a young Irish saint, stood on the southern shores of Ireland and\nsaw the Christian missionaries departing to carry the blessed Word to\nthe heathens of Western England. He watched their barks fade beneath the\nhorizon, and he felt that he was left to a solitude which was not fitted\nto one in the full energy of young life, and burning with zeal.\n\nThe saint knelt on a boulder of granite lying on the shore, and he prayed\nwith fervour that Heaven would order it so that he might diffuse his\nreligious fervour amongst the barbarians of Cornwall. He prayed on for\nsome time, not observing the rising of the tide. When he had poured out\nhis full soul, he awoke to the fact, not only that the waves were washing\naround the stone on which he knelt, but that the stone was actually\nfloating on the water. Impressed with the miracle, St Kea sprang to his\nfeet, and looking towards the setting sun, with his cross uplifted, he\nexclaimed, \u201cTo Thee, and only to Thee, my God, do I trust my soul!\u201d\n\nOnward floated the granite, rendered buoyant by supernatural power.\nFloated hither and thither by the tides, it swam on; blown sometimes in\none direction, and sometimes in another, by the varying winds, days and\nnights were spent upon the waters. The faith of St Kea failed not; three\ntimes a day he knelt in prayer to God. At all other times he stood gazing\non the heavens. At length the faith of the saint being fairly tried, the\nmoorstone boat floated steadily up the river, and landed at St Kea, which\nplace he soon Christianised, and there stands to this day this monument\nof St Kea\u2019s sincere belief.\n\n\nST GERMAN\u2019S WELL.\n\nThe good St German was, it would appear, sent into Cornwall in the reign\nof the Emperor Valentinian, mainly to suppress the Pelagian heresy. The\ninhabitants of the shores of the Tamar had long been schooled into the\nbelief in original sin, and they would not endure its denial from the\nlips of a stranger. In this they were supported by the monks, who had\nalready a firm footing in the land, and who taught the people implicit\nobedience to their religious instructors, faith in election, and that\nall human efforts were unavailing, unless supported by priestly aid. St\nGerman was a man with vast powers of endurance. He preached his doctrines\nof freewill, and of the value of good works, notwithstanding the outcry\nraised against him. His miracles were of the most remarkable character,\nand sufficiently impressive to convince a large body of the Cornish\npeople that he was an inspired priest. St German raised a beautiful\nchurch, and built a monastic house for the relief of poor people. Yet\nnotwithstanding the example of the pure life of the saint, and his\nunceasing study to do good, a large section of the priests and the people\nnever ceased to persecute him. To all human endurance there is a limit,\nand even that of the saint weakened eventually, before the never-ceasing\nannoyances by which he was hemmed in.\n\nOne Sabbath morning the priest attended as usual to his Christian duties,\nwhen he was interrupted by a brawl amongst the outrageous people, who had\ncome in from all parts of the country with a determination to drive him\nfrom the place of his adoption. The holy man prayed for his persecutors,\nand he entreated them to calm their angry passions and listen to his\nhealing words. But no words could convey any healing balm to their stormy\nhearts. At length his brethren, fearing that his life was in danger,\nbegged him to fly, and eventually he left the church by a small door\nnear the altar, while some of the monks endeavoured to tranquillise the\npeople. St German went, a sad man, to the cliffs at the Rame head, and\nthere alone he wept in agony at the failure of his labours. So intense\nwas the soul-suffering of this holy man, that the rocks felt the power\nof spirit-struggling, and wept with him. The eyes of man, a spiritual\ncreation, dry after the outburst of sorrow, but when the gross forms of\nmatter are compelled to sympathise with spiritual sorrow, they remain\nfor ever under the influence; and from that day the tears of the cliffs\nhave continued to fall, and the Well of St German attests to this day of\nthe saint\u2019s agony. The saint was not allowed to remain in concealment\nlong. The crowd of opposing priests and the peasantry were on his track.\nHundreds were on the hill, and arming themselves with stones, they\ndescended with shouts, determined to destroy him. St German prayed to\nGod for deliverance, and immediately a rush, as of thunder, was heard\nupon the hills\u2014a chariot surrounded by flames, and flashing light in all\ndirections, was seen rapidly approaching. The crowd paused, fell back,\nand the flaming car passed on to where St German knelt. There were two\nbright angels in the chariot; they lifted the persecuted saint from the\nground, and placing him between them, ascended into the air.\n\n\u201cCurse your persecutors,\u201d said the angels. The saint cursed them; and\nfrom that time all holiness left the church he had built. The saint was\nborne to other lands, and lived to effect great good. On the rocks the\nburnt tracks of the chariot wheels were long to be seen, and the Well of\nTears still flows.\n\n\nHOW ST PIRAN REACHED CORNWALL.\n\nGood men are frequently persecuted by those whom they have benefited the\nmost. The righteous Piran had, by virtue of his sanctity, been enabled to\nfeed ten Irish kings and their armies for ten days together with three\ncows. He brought to life by his prayers the dogs which had been killed\nwhile hunting the elk and the boar, and even restored to existence many\nof the warriors who had fallen on the battlefield. Notwithstanding this,\nand his incomparable goodness, some of these kings condemned him to be\ncast off a precipice into the sea, with a millstone around his neck.\n\nOn a boisterous day, a crowd of the lawless Irish assembled on the brow\nof a beetling cliff, with Piran in chains. By great labour they had\nrolled a huge millstone to the top of the hill, and Piran was chained\nto it. At a signal from one of the kings, the stone and the saint were\nrolled to the edge of, and suddenly over, the cliff into the Atlantic.\nThe winds were blowing tempestuously, the heavens were dark with clouds,\nand the waves white with crested foam. No sooner was Piran and the\nmillstone launched into space, than the sun shone out brightly, casting\nthe full lustre of its beams on the holy man, who sat tranquilly on\nthe descending stone. The winds died away, and the waves became smooth\nas a mirror. The moment the millstone touched the water, hundreds were\nconverted to Christianity who saw this miracle. St Piran floated on\nsafely to Cornwall; he landed on the 5th of March on the sands which bear\nhis name. He lived amongst the Cornish men until he attained the age of\n206 years.[6]\n\n\nST PERRAN, THE MINERS\u2019 SAINT.\n\nSt Piran, or St Perran, has sometimes gained the credit of discovering\ntin in Cornwall; yet Usher places the date of his birth about the year\n352; and the merchants of Tyre are said to have traded with Cornwall for\ntin as early as the days of King Solomon.\n\nThere are three places in Cornwall to which the name of Perran is given:\u2014\n\nPerran-Aworthall\u2014_i.e._, _Perran on the noted River_.\n\nPerran-Uthno\u2014_i.e._, _Perran the Little_.\n\nPerran-Zabuloe\u2014_i.e._, _Perran in the Sands_.\n\nThis sufficiently proves that the saint, or some one bearing that name,\nwas eminently popular amongst the people; and in St Perran we have an\nexample\u2014of which several instances are given\u2014of the manner in which a\nvery ancient event is shifted forward, as it were, for the purpose of\ninvesting some popular hero with additional reasons for securing the\ndevotion of the people, and of drawing them to his shrine.[7]\n\nPicrous, or Piecras, is another name which has been floated by tradition,\ndown the stream of time, in connexion with the discovery of tin; and in\nthe eastern portion of Cornwall, Picrous-day, the second Thursday before\nChristmas-day, is kept as the tinners\u2019 holiday.\n\nThe popular story of the discovery of tin is, however, given, with all\nits anachronisms.\n\n\nTHE DISCOVERY OF TIN.\n\nSt Piran, or St Perran, leading his lonely life on the plains which\nnow bear his name, devoted himself to the study of the objects which\npresented themselves to his notice. The good saint decorated the altar\nin his church with the choicest flowers, and his cell was adorned with\nthe crystals which he could collect from the neighbouring rocks. In\nhis wanderings on the sea-shore, St Perran could not but observe the\nnumerous mineral veins running through the slate rocks forming the\nbeautiful cliffs on this coast. Examples of every kind he collected; and\non one occasion, when preparing his humble meal, a heavy black stone was\nemployed to form a part of the fireplace. The fire was more intense than\nusual, and a stream of beautiful white metal flowed out of the fire.\nGreat was the joy of the saint; he perceived that God, in His goodness,\nhad discovered to him something which would be useful to man. St Perran\ncommunicated his discovery to St Chiwidden. They examined the shores\ntogether, and Chiwidden, who was learned in the learning of the East,\nsoon devised a process for producing this metal in large quantities.\nThe two saints called the Cornish men together. They told them of their\ntreasures, and they taught them how to dig the ore from the earth, and\nhow, by the agency of fire, to obtain the metal. Great was the joy in\nCornwall, and many days of feasting followed the announcement. Mead and\nmetheglin, with other drinks, flowed in abundance; and vile rumour says\nthe saints and their people were rendered equally unstable thereby.\n\u201cDrunk as a Perraner,\u201d has certainly passed into a proverb from that day.\n\nThe riot of joy at length came to an end, and steadily, seriously, the\ntribes of Perran and St Agnes set to work. They soon accumulated a vast\nquantity of this precious metal; and when they carried it to the southern\ncoasts, the merchants from Gaul eagerly purchased it of them. The noise\nof the discovery, even in those days, rapidly extended itself; and even\nthe cities of Tyre learned that a metal precious to them, was to be\nobtained in a country far to the west. The Ph\u0153nician navigators were not\nlong in finding out the Tin Islands; and great was the alarm amidst the\nCornish Britons lest the source of their treasure should be discovered.\nThen it was they intrenched the whole of St Agnes beacon; then it was\nthey built the numerous hill castles, which have puzzled the antiquarian;\nthen it was that they constructed the Rounds,\u2014amongst which the Perran\nRound remains as a remarkable example,\u2014all of them to protect their tin\nground. So resolved were the whole of the population of the district\nto preserve the tin workings, that they prevented any foreigner from\nlanding on the mainland, and they established tin markets on the islands\non the coast. On these islands were hoisted the standard of Cornwall, a\nwhite cross on a black ground, which was the device of St Perran and St\nChiwidden, symbolising the black tin ore and the white metal.[8]\n\n\nST NEOT, THE PIGMY.\n\nWhence came the saint, or hermit, who has given his name to two churches\nin England, is not known.\n\nTradition, however, informs us that he was remarkably small in stature,\nthough exquisitely formed. He could not, according to all accounts, have\nbeen more than fifteen inches high. Yet, though so diminutive a man,\nhe possessed a soul which was giant-like in the power of his faith.\nThe Church of St Neot, which has been built on the ancient site of the\nhermit\u2019s cell, is situated in a secluded valley, watered by a branch of\nthe river Fowey. The surrounding country is, even now, but very partially\ncultivated, and it must have been, a few centuries since, a desert waste;\nbut the valley is, and no doubt ever has been, beautifully wooded. Not\nfar from the church is the holy well, in which the pious anchorite would\nstand immersed to his neck, whilst he repeated the whole Book of Psalms.\nGreat was the reward for such an exercise of devotion and faith. Out\nof numerous miracles we select only a few, which have some especial\ncharacter about them.\n\n\nST NEOT AND THE FOX.\n\nOne day the holy hermit was standing in his bath chanting the Psalms,\nwhen he heard the sound of huntsmen approaching. Whether the saint feared\nridicule or ill-treatment, we know not; but certainly he left some psalms\nunsung that day, and hastily gathering up his clothes, he fled to his\ncell.\n\nIn his haste the goodman lost his shoe, and a hungry fox having escaped\nthe hunters, came to the spring to drink. Having quenched the fever of\nthirst, and being hungry, he spied the saint\u2019s shoe, and presently ate\nit. The hermit despatched his servant to look for his shoe; and, lo, he\nfound the fox cast into a deep sleep, and the thongs of the shoe hanging\nout of his vile mouth. Of course the shoe was pulled out of his stomach,\nand restored to the saint.\n\n\nST NEOT AND THE DOE.\n\nAgain, on another day, when the hermit was in his fountain, a lovely doe,\nflying from the huntsmen, fell down on the edge of the well, imploring,\nwith tearful eyes and anxious pantings, the aid of St Neot. The dogs\nfollowed in full chase, ready to pounce on the trembling doe, and eager\nto tear her in pieces. They saw the saint, and one look from his holy\neyes sent them flying back into the woods, more speedily, if possible,\nthan they rushed out of it.\n\nThe huntsman too came on, ready to discharge his arrow into the heart\nof the doe; but, impressed with the sight he saw, he fell on his knees,\ncast away his quiver, and became from that day a follower of the saint\u2019s,\ngiving him his horn to hang, as a memorial, in the church, where it was\nlong to be seen. The huntsman became eventually one of the monks of the\nneighbouring house of St Petroch.\n\n\nST NEOT AND THE THIEVES.\n\nWhen St Neot was abbot, some thieves came by night and stole the\noxen belonging to the farm of the monastery. The weather was most\nuncertain,\u2014the seed-time was passing away,\u2014and a fine morning rendered\nit imperative that the ploughs should be quickly employed. There were no\noxen. Great was the difficulty, and earnest were the abbot\u2019s prayers.\nIn answer to them, the wild stags came in from the forests, and tamely\noffered their necks to the yoke. When unyoked in the evening, they\nresorted to their favourite pastures, but voluntarily returned each\nmorning to their work. The report of this event reached the ears of the\nthieves. They became penitent, and restored the oxen to the monastery.\nNot only so, but they consecrated their days to devotional exercises. The\noxen being restored, the stags were dismissed; but they bore for ever a\nwhite ring, like a yoke, about their necks, and they held a charmed life,\nsafe from the shafts of the hunters.\n\n\nST NEOT AND THE FISHES.\n\nOn one occasion, when the saint was at his devotions, an angel appeared\nunto him, and shewing him three fishes in the well, he said, \u201cThese are\nfor thee; take one each day for thy daily food, and the number shall\nnever grow less: the choice of one of three fishes shall be thine all\nthe days of thy life.\u201d Long time passed by, and daily a fish was taken\nfrom the well, and three awaited his coming every morning. At length the\nsaint, who shared in human suffering notwithstanding his piety, fell\nill; and being confined to his bed, St Neot sent his servant Barius to\nfetch him a fish for his dinner. Barius being desirous of pleasing, if\npossible, the sick man\u2019s taste, went to the well and caught two fishes.\nOne of these he broiled, and the other he boiled. Nicely cooked, Barius\ntook them on a dish to his master\u2019s bedside, who started up alarmed\nfor the consequences of the act of his servant, in disobedience to the\ninjunctions of the angel. So good a man could not allow wrath to get\nthe mastery of him; so he sat up in his bed, and, instead of eating, he\nprayed with great earnestness over the cooked fish. At last the spirit of\nholiness exerted its full power. St Neot commanded Barius to return at\nonce and cast the fish into the well. Barius went and did as his master\nhad told him to do; and, lo, the moment the fishes fell into the water\nthey recovered life, and swam away with the third fish, as if nothing had\nhappened to them.\n\nAll these things and more are recorded in the windows of St Neot\u2019s\nChurch.[9]\n\n\nPROBUS AND GRACE.\n\nEvery one is acquainted with the beautiful tower of Probus Church. If\nthey are not, they should lose no time in visiting it. Various are the\nstories in connexion with those two saints, who are curiously connected\nwith the church, and one of the fairs held in the church-town. A safe\ntradition tells us that St Probus built the church, and failing in the\nmeans of adding a tower to his building, he petitioned St Grace to\naid him. Grace was a wealthy lady, and she resolved at her own cost\nto build a tower, the like of which should not be seen in the \u201cWest\nCountrie.\u201d Regardless of the expense, sculptured stone was worked by\nthe most skilful masons, and the whole put together in the happiest of\nproportions. When the tower was finished, St Probus opened his church\nwith every becoming solemnity, and took to himself all the praise which\nwas lavished on the tower, although he had built only a plain church.\nWhen, however, the praise of Probus was at the highest, a voice was heard\nslowly and distinctly exclaiming,\n\n \u201cSaint Probus and Grace,\n Not the first, but the last;\u201d\n\nand thus for ever have Probus and Grace been united as patron saints of\nthis church.\n\nMr Davies Gilbert remarks, however, in his \u201cParochial History:\u201d \u201cFew\ngentlemen\u2019s houses in the west of Cornwall were without the honour of\nreceiving Prince Charles during his residence in the county about the\nmiddle part of the civil wars; and he is said to have remained for a time\nlonger than usual with Mr Williams, who, after the Restoration, waited on\nthe king with congratulations from the parish; and, on being complimented\nby him with the question whether he could do anything for his friends,\nanswered that the parish would esteem themselves highly honoured and\ndistinguished by the grant of a fair, which was accordingly done for\nthe 17th September. This fair coming the last in succession after three\nothers, has acquired for itself a curious appellation, derived from\nthe two patron saints, and from the peculiar pronunciation in that\nneighbourhood of the word last, somewhat like laest,\u2014\n\n \u2018Saint Probus and Grace,\n Not the first, but the last,\u2019\u2014\n\nand from this distinction it is usually called Probus and Grace Fair.\u201d We\nare obliged, therefore, to lean on the original tradition for the true\nmeaning of this couplet.\n\n\nST NECTAN\u2019S KIEVE AND THE LONELY SISTERS.\n\nFar up the deep and rocky vale of Trevillet, in the parish of\nTintagel,[10] stands on a pile of rocks the little chapel of the good\nSt Nectan. No holy man ever selected a more secluded, or a more lovely\nspot in which to pass a religious life. From the chapel rock you look\nover the deep valley full of trees. You see here and there the lovely\ntrout-stream, running rapidly towards the sea; and, opening in the\ndistance, there rolls the mighty ocean itself. Although this oratory is\nshut in amongst the woods, so as to be invisible to any one approaching\nit by land, until they are close upon it, it is plainly seen by the\nfishermen or by the sailor far off at sea; and in olden time the prayers\nof St Nectan were sought by all whose business was in the \u201cdeep waters.\u201d\n\nThe river runs steadily along within a short distance of St Nectan\u2019s\nChapel, and then it suddenly leaps over the rock\u2014a beautiful fall of\nwater\u2014into St Nectan\u2019s Kieve. This deep rock-basin, brimming with the\nclearest water, overflows, and another waterfall carries the river to the\nlower level of the valley. Standing here within a circular wall of rocks,\nyou see how the falling fluid has worked back the softer slate-rock until\nit has reached the harder masses, which are beautifully polished by the\nsame agent. Mosses, ferns, and grasses decorate the fall, fringing every\nrock with a native drapery of the most exquisite beauty. Here is one of\nthe wildest, one of the most untrained, and, at the same time, one of the\nmost beautiful spots in Cornwall, full of poetry, and coloured by legend.\nYet here comes prosaic man, and by one stroke of his everyday genius, he\nadds, indeed, a colour to the violet. You walk along the valley, through\npaths trodden out of the undergrowth, deviously wandering up hill, or\ndown hill, as rock or tree has interposed. Many a spot of quiet beauty\nsolicits you to loiter, and loitering, you feel that there are places\nfrom which the winds appear to gather poetry. You break the spell, or the\near, catching the murmur of the waters, dispels the illusions which have\nbeen created by the eye, and you wander forward anxious to reach the holy\n\u201cKieve,\u201d\u2014to visit the saint\u2019s hermitage. Here, say you, is the place to\nhold \u201ccommune with Nature\u2019s works, and view her charms unrolled,\u201d when,\nlo, a well-made door painted lead colour, with a real substantial lock,\nbars your way, and Fancy, with everything that is holy, flies away before\nthe terrible words which inform you that trespassers will be punished,\nand that the key can be obtained at \u2014\u2014. Well was it that Mr Wilkie\nCollins gave \u201cup the attempt to discover Nighton\u2019s Kieve;\u201d[11] for had\nhe, when he had found it, discovered this evidence of man\u2019s greedy soul,\nit would have convinced him that the \u201cevil genius of fairy mythology,\u201d\nwho so cautiously hid \u201cthe nymph of the waterfall,\u201d was no other than\nthe farmer, who, as he told me, \u201cowns the fee,\u201d and one who is resolved\nalso, to pocket the fee, before any pilgrim can see the oratory and the\nwaterfall of St Nectan. Of course this would have turned the placid\ncurrent of the thoughts of \u201cthe Rambler beyond Railways,\u201d which now flow\nso pleasantly, into a troubled stream of biliary bitterness.\n\nSt Nectan placed in the little bell-tower of his secluded chapel a silver\nbell, the notes of which were so clear and penetrating that they could be\nheard far off at sea. When the notes came through the air, and fell on\nthe ears of the seamen, they knew that St Nectan was about to pray for\nthem, and they prostrated themselves before Heaven for a few minutes, and\nthus endeavoured to win the blessing.\n\nSt Nectan was on the bed of death. There was strife in the land. A severe\nstruggle was going on between the Churchmen, and endeavours were being\nmade to introduce a new faith.\n\nThe sunset of life gave to the saint the spirit of prophecy, and he told\nhis weeping followers that the light of their religion would grow dim\nin the land; but that a spark would for ever live amidst the ashes, and\nthat in due time it would kindle into a flame, and burn more brightly\nthan ever. His silver bell, he said, should never ring for others than\nthe true believer. He would enclose it in the rock of the Kieve; but when\nagain the true faith revived, it should be recovered, and rung, to cheer\nonce more the land.\n\nOne lovely summer evening, while the sun was slowly sinking towards the\ngolden sea, St Nectan desired his attendants to carry him to the bank\nwhich overhung the \u201cKieve,\u201d and requested them to take the bell from the\ntower and bring it to him.\n\nThere he lay for some time in silent prayer, waiting as if for a sign,\nthen slowly raising himself from the bed on which he had been placed, he\ngrasped the silver bell. He rang it sharply and clearly three times, and\nthen he dropped it into the transparent waters of the Kieve. He watched\nit disappear, and then he closed his eyes in death. On receiving the bell\nthe waters were troubled, but they soon became clear as before, and the\nbell was nowhere to be seen. St Nectan died, and two strange ladies from\na foreign land came and took possession of his oratory, and all that\nbelonged unto the holy man. They placed\u2014acting, as it was believed, on\nthe wishes of the saint himself\u2014his body, all the sacramental plate, and\nother sacred treasures, in a large oak chest. They turned the waters of\nthe fall aside, and dug a grave in the river bed, below the Kieve, in\nwhich they placed this precious chest. The waters were then returned to\ntheir natural course, and they murmur ever above the grave of him who\nloved them. The silver bell was concealed in the Kieve, and the saint\nwith all that belonged to his holy office rested beneath the river bed.\nThe oratory was dismantled, and the two ladies, women evidently of high\nbirth, chose it for their dwelling. Their seclusion was perfect. \u201cBoth\nappeared to be about the same age, and both were inflexibly taciturn.\nOne was never seen without the other. If they ever left the house, they\nonly left it to walk in the more unfrequented parts of the wood; they\nkept no servant; they never had a visitor; no living soul but themselves\never crossed the door of their cottage.\u201d[12] The berries of the wood, a\nfew roots which they cultivated, with snails gathered from the rocks and\nwalls, and fish caught in the stream, served them for food. Curiosity was\nexcited, the mystery which hung around this solitary pair became deepened\nby the obstinate silence which they observed in everything relating to\nthemselves. The result of all this was an anxious endeavour, on the part\nof the superstitious and ignorant peasantry, to learn their secret. All\nwas now conjecture, and the imagination commonly enough filled in a wild\npicture: devils or angels, as the case might be, were seen ministering to\nthe solitary ones. Prying eyes were upon them, but the spies could glean\nno knowledge. Week, month, year passed by, and ungratified curiosity\nwas dying through want of food, when it was discovered that one of the\nladies had died. The peasantry went in a body to the chapel; no one\nforbade their entering it now. There sat a silent mourner leaning over\nthe placid face of her dead sister. Hers was, indeed, a silent sorrow\u2014no\ntear was in her eye, no sigh hove her chest, but the face told all that\na remediless woe had fallen on her heart. The dead body was eventually\nremoved, the living sister making no sign, and they left her in her\nsolitude alone. Days passed on; no one heard of, no one probably inquired\nafter, the lonely one. At last a wandering child, curious as children\nare, clambered to the window of the cell and looked in. There sat the\nlady; her handkerchief was on the floor, and one hand hung strangely, as\nif endeavouring to pick it up, but powerless to do so. The child told its\nstory\u2014the people again flocked to the chapel, and they found one sister\nhad followed the other. The people buried the last beside the first, and\nthey left no mark to tell us where, unless the large flat stone which\nlies in the valley, a short distance from the foot of the fall, and\nbeneath which, I was told, \u201csome great person was buried,\u201d may be the\ncovering of their tomb. No traces of the history of these solitary women\nhave ever been discovered.\n\nCenturies have passed away, and still the legends of the buried bell and\ntreasure are preserved. Some long time since a party of men resolved to\nblast the \u201cKieve,\u201d and examine it for the silver bell. They were miners,\nand their engineering knowledge, though rude, was sufficient to enable\nthem to divert the course of the river above the falls, and thus to leave\nthe \u201cKieve\u201d dry for them to work on when they had emptied it, which was\nan easy task. The \u201cborer\u201d now rung upon the rock, holes were pierced,\nand, being charged, they were blasted. The result was, however, anything\nbut satisfactory, for the rock remained intact. Still they persevered,\nuntil at length a voice was heard amidst the ring of the iron tools in\nthe holes of the rock. Every hand was stayed, every face was aghast, as\nthey heard distinctly the ring of the silver bell, followed by a clear\nsolemn voice proclaiming, \u201cThe child is not yet born who shall recover\nthis treasure.\u201d\n\nThe work was stopped, and the river restored to its old channel, over\nwhich it will run undisturbed until the day of which St Nectan prophesied\nshall arrive.\n\n When, in the autumn of 1863, I visited this lovely spot,\n my guide, the proprietor, informed me that very recently a\n gentleman residing, I believe, in London, dreamed that an angel\n stood on a little bank of pebbles, forming a petty island, at\n the foot of a waterfall, and, pointing to a certain spot, told\n him to search there and he would find gold and a mummy. This\n gentleman told his dream to a friend, who at once declared the\n place indicated to be St Nectan\u2019s waterfall. Upon this, the\n dreamer visited the West, and, upon being led by the owner of\n the property to the fall, he at once recognised the spot on\n which the angel stood.\n\n A plan was then and there arranged by which a search might\n be again commenced, it being thought that, as an angel had\n indicated the spot, the time for the recovery of the treasure\n had arrived.\n\n Let us hope that the search may be deferred, lest the\n natural beauties of the spot should be destroyed by the\n meddling of men, who can threaten trespassers,\u2014fearing to\n lose a sixpence,\u2014and who have already endeavoured to improve\n on nature, by cutting down some of the rock and planting\n rhododendrons.\n\n The Rev. R. S. Hawker, of Morwenstow, has published in his\n \u201cEchoes of Old Cornwall\u201d a poem on this tradition, which, as\n it is but little known, and as it has the true poetic ring, I\n transcribe to adorn the pages of my Appendix.[13]\n\n\nTHEODORE, KING OF CORNWALL.\n\nRiviere, near Hayle, now called Rovier, was the palace of Theodore, the\nking, to whom Cornwall appears to have been indebted for many of its\nsaints. This Christian king, when the pagan people sought to destroy the\nfirst missionaries, gave the saints shelter in his palace. St Breca, St\nIva, St Burianna, and many others, are said to have made Riviere their\nresidence. It is not a little curious to find traditions existing, as it\nwere, in a state of suspension between opinions. I have heard it said\nthat there was a church at Rovier\u2014that there was once a great palace\nthere; and again, that Castle Cayle was one vast fortified place, and\nRovier another. Mr Davies Gilbert quotes Whitaker on this point:\u2014\n\n \u201cMr Whitaker, who captivates every reader by the brilliancy of\n his style, and astonishes by the extent of his multifarious\n reading, draws, however, without reserve, on his fertile\n imagination, for whatever facts may be requisite to construct\n the fabric of a theory. He has made Riviere the palace and\n residence of Theodore, a sovereign prince of Cornwall, and\n conducts St Breca, St Iva, with several companions, not only\n into Hayle and to this palace, after their voyage from Ireland,\n but fixes the time of their arrival so exactly, as to make it\n take place in the night. In recent times the name of Riviere,\n which had been lost in the common pronunciation, Rovier, has\n revived in a very excellent house built by Mr Edwards on the\n farm, which he completed in 1791.\u201d[14]\n\n\n\n\nHOLY WELLS.\n\n \u201cA well there is in the west country,\n And a clearer one never was seen.\u201d\n\n ROBERT SOUTHEY.\n\n\n\n\nSUPERSTITIONS OF THE WELLS.\n\n\nWELL-WORSHIP.\n\n \u201cOne meek cell,\n Built by the fathers o\u2019er a lonely well,\n Still breathes the Baptist\u2019s sweet remembrance round\n A spring of silent waters.\u201d\n\n _Echoes from Old Cornwall_\u2014R. S. HAWKER.\n\nA spring of water has always something about it which gives rise to holy\nfeelings. From the dark earth there wells up a pellucid fluid, which in\nits apparent tranquil joyousness gives gladness to all around. The velvet\nmosses, the sword-like grasses, and the feathery ferns, grow with more of\nthat light and vigorous nature which indicates a fulness of life, within\nthe charmed influence of a spring of water, than they do elsewhere.\n\nThe purity of the fluid impresses itself, through the eye, upon the mind,\nand its power of removing all impurity is felt to the soul. \u201cWash and\nbe clean,\u201d is the murmuring call of the waters, as they overflow their\nrocky basins, or grassy vases, and deeply sunk in depravity must that\nman be who could put to unholy uses one of nature\u2019s fountains. The inner\nlife of a well of waters, bursting from its grave in the earth, may be\nreligiously said to form a type of the soul purified by death, rising\ninto a glorified existence and the fulness of light. The tranquil beauty\nof the rising waters, whispering the softest music, like the healthful\nbreathing of a sleeping infant, sends a feeling of happiness through the\nsoul of the thoughtful observer, and the inner man is purified by its\ninfluence, as the outer man is cleansed by ablution.\n\nWater cannot be regarded as having an inanimate existence. Its\nall-pervading character and its active nature, flowing on for ever,\nresting never, removes it from the torpid elements, and places it, like\nthe air, amongst those higher creations which belong to the vital powers\nof the earth. The spring of water rises from the cold dark earth, it\nruns, a silver cord glistening in the sunshine, down the mountainside.\nThe rill (prettily called by Drayton \u201ca rillet\u201d) gathers rejoicingly\nother waters unto itself, and it grows into a _brooklet_ in its course.\nAt length, flowing onward and increasing in size, the _brook_ state of\nbeing is fairly won; and then, by the gathering together of some more\ndewdrops, the full dignity of a stream is acquired. Onwards the waters\nflow, still gleaning from every side, and wooing new _runlets_ to its\nbosom, eager as it were to assume the state which, in America, would be\ncalled a \u201crun\u201d of water. Stream gathers on stream, and run on run; the\nunion of waters becomes a _river_; rolling in its maturity, swelling in\nits pride, it seeks the ocean, and there is absorbed in the eternity\nof waters. Has ever poet yet penned a line which in any way conveys to\nthe mind a sense of the grandeur, the immensity of the sea? I do not\nremember a verse which does not prove the incapacity of the human mind\nto embrace in its vastness the gathering together of the waters in the\nmighty sea. Man\u2019s mind is tempered, and his pride subdued, as he stands\non the sea-side and looks on the undulating expanse to which, to him,\nthere is no end. A material eternity of rain-drops gathered into a mass\nwhich is from Omnipotence and is omnipotent. The influences of heaven\nfalling on the sheeted waters, they rise at their bidding and float in\nair, making the skies more beautiful or more sublime, according to the\nspirit of the hour. Whether the clouds float over the earth, illumined by\nsun-rays, like the cars of loving angels; or rush wildly onward, as if\nbearing demons of vengeance, they are subdued by the mountains, and fall\nreluctantly as mists around the rocks, condense solemnly as dews upon the\nsleeping flowers, sink to earth resignedly as tranquil rains, or splash\nin tempestuous anger on its surface. The draught, in whatever form it\ncomes, is drunk with avidity, and, circulating through the subterranean\nrecesses of the globe, it does its work of re-creation, and eventually\nreappears a bubbling spring, again to run its round of wonder-working\ntasks.\n\nThose minds which saw a God in light, and worshipped a Creator in the\nsun, felt the power of the universal solvent, and saw in the diffusive\nnature of that fluid which is everywhere, something more than a type of\nthe regenerating Spirit, which all, in their holier hours, feel necessary\nto clear off the earthiness of life. Man has ever sought to discover the\nspiritual in the material, and, from the imperfections of human reason,\nhe has too frequently reposed on the material, and given to it the\nattributes which are purely spiritual. Through all ages the fountains\nof the hills and valleys have claimed the reverence of men; and waters\npresenting themselves, under aspects of beauty, or of terror, have been\nregarded with religious feelings of hope or of awe.\n\nAs it was of old, so is it to-day. It was but yesterday that I stood near\nthe font of Royston Church, and heard the minister read with emphasis,\n\u201cNone can enter into the kingdom of God except he be regenerate and born\nanew of water.\u201d Surely the simple faith of the peasant mother who, on\na spring morning, takes her weakly infant to some holy well, and three\ntimes dipping it in its clear waters, uttering an earnest prayer at each\nimmersion, is but another form of the prescribed faith of the educated\nchurchman.\n\nSurely the practice of consulting the waters of a sacred spring, by young\nmen and maidens, is but a traditional faith derived from the early creeds\nof Greece\u2014a continuance of the _Hydromancy_ which sought in the Castalian\nfountain the divination of the future.\n\n\nTHE WELL OF ST CONSTANTINE.\n\nIn the parish of St Merran, or Meryn, near Padstow, are the remains of\nthe Church of St Constantine, and the holy well of that saint. It had\nbeen an unusually hot and dry summer, and all the crops were perishing\nthrough want of water. The people inhabiting the parish had grown\nirreligious, and many of them sadly profane. The drought was a curse upon\nthem for their wickedness. Their church was falling into ruin, their\nwell was foul, and the arches over it were decayed and broken. In their\ndistress, the wicked people who had reviled the Word of God, went to\ntheir priest for aid.\n\n\u201cThere is no help for thee, unless thou cleansest the holy well.\u201d\n\nThey laughed him to scorn.\n\nThe drought continued, and they suffered want.\n\nTo the priest they went again.\n\n\u201cCleanse the well,\u201d was his command, \u201cand see the power of the blessing\nof the first Christian emperor.\u201d That cleansing a dirty well should bring\nthem rain they did not believe. The drought continued, the rivers were\ndry, the people suffered thirst.\n\n\u201cCleanse the well\u2014wash, and drink,\u201d said the priest, when they again went\nto him.\n\nHunger and thirst made the people obedient. They went to the task. Mosses\nand weeds were removed, and the filth cleansed. To the surprise of all,\nbeautifully clear water welled forth. They drank the water and prayed,\nand then washed themselves, and were refreshed. As they bathed their\nbodies, parched with heat, in the cool stream which flowed from the well,\nthe heavens clouded over, and presently rain fell, turning all hearts to\nthe true faith.\n\n\nTHE WELL OF ST LUDGVAN.\n\nSt Ludgvan, an Irish missionary, had finished his work. On the hill-top,\nlooking over the most beautiful of bays, the church stood with all its\nblessings. Yet the saint, knowing human nature, determined on associating\nwith it some object of a miraculous character, which should draw people\nfrom all parts of the world to Ludgvan. The saint prayed over the dry\nearth, which was beneath him, as he knelt on the church stile. His prayer\nwas for water, and presently a most beautiful crystal stream welled up\nfrom below. The holy man prayed on, and then, to try the virtues of the\nwater, he washed his eyes. They were rendered at once more powerful, so\npenetrating, indeed, as to enable him to see microscopic objects. The\nsaint prayed again, and then he drank of the water. He discovered that\nhis powers of utterance were greatly improved, his tongue formed words\nwith scarcely any effort of his will. The saint now prayed, that all\nchildren baptized in the waters of this well might be protected against\nthe hangman and his hempen cord; and an angel from heaven came down into\nthe water, and promised the saint that his prayers should be granted.\nNot long after this, a good farmer and his wife brought their babe to\nthe saint, that it might derive all the blessings belonging to this\nholy well. The priest stood at the baptismal font, the parents, with\ntheir friends around. The saint proceeded with the baptismal ceremonial,\nand at length the time arrived when he took the tender babe into his\nholy arms. He signed the sign of the cross over the child, and when he\nsprinkled water on the face of the infant its face glowed with a divine\nintelligence. The priest then proceeded with the prayer; but, to the\nastonishment of all, whenever he used the name of Jesus, the child, who\nhad received the miraculous power of speech, from the water, pronounced\ndistinctly the name of the devil, much to the consternation of all\npresent. The saint knew that an evil spirit had taken possession of the\nchild, and he endeavoured to cast him out; but the devil proved stronger\nthan the saint for some time. St Ludgvan was not to be beaten; he knew\nthat the spirit was a restless soul, which had been exorcised from\nTreassow, and he exerted all his energies in prayer. At length the spirit\nbecame obedient, and left the child. He was now commanded by the saint to\ntake his flight to the Red Sea. He rose, before the terrified spectators,\ninto a gigantic size, he then spat into the well; he laid hold of the\npinnacles of the tower, and shook the church until they thought it would\nfall. The saint was alone unmoved. He prayed on, until, like a flash of\nlightning, the demon vanished, shaking down a pinnacle in his flight. The\ndemon, by spitting in the water destroyed the spells of the water upon\nthe eyes[15] and the tongue too; but it fortunately retains its virtue\nof preventing any child baptized in it from being hanged with a cord of\nhemp. Upon a cord of silk it is stated to have no power.\n\nThis well had nearly lost its reputation once\u2014a Ludgvan woman was hanged,\nunder the circumstances told in the following narrative:\u2014\n\nA small farmer, living in one of the most western districts of the\ncounty, died some years back of what was supposed at that time to be\n\u201cEnglish cholera.\u201d A few weeks after his decease his wife married\nagain. This circumstance excited some attention in the neighbourhood.\nIt was remembered that the woman had lived on very bad terms with her\nlate husband, that she had on many occasions exhibited strong symptoms\nof possessing a very vindictive temper, and that during the farmer\u2019s\nlifetime she had openly manifested rather more than a Platonic preference\nfor the man whom she subsequently married. Suspicion was generally\nexcited; people began to doubt whether the first husband had died fairly.\nAt length the proper order was applied for, and his body was disinterred.\nOn examination, enough arsenic to have poisoned three men was found in\nthe stomach. The wife was accused of murdering her husband, was tried,\nconvicted on the clearest evidence, and hanged. Very shortly after\nshe had suffered capital punishment horrible stories of a ghost were\nwidely circulated. Certain people declared that they had seen a ghastly\nresemblance of the murderess, robed in her winding-sheet, with the black\nmark of the rope round her swollen neck, standing on stormy nights upon\nher husband\u2019s grave, and digging there with a spade, in hideous imitation\nof the actions of the men who had disinterred the corpse for medical\nexamination. This was fearful enough; nobody dared go near the place\nafter nightfall. But soon another circumstance was talked of in connexion\nwith the poisoner, which affected the tranquillity of people\u2019s minds\nin the village where she had lived, and where it was believed she had\nbeen born, more seriously than even the ghost story itself. The well of\nSt Ludgvan, celebrated among the peasantry of the district for its one\nremarkable property, that every child baptized in its water (with which\nthe church was duly supplied on christening occasions) was secure from\never being hanged.\n\nNo one doubted that all the babies fortunate enough to be born and\nbaptized in the parish, though they might live to the age of Methuselah,\nand might during that period commit all the capital crimes recorded in\nthe \u201cNewgate Calendar,\u201d were still destined to keep quite clear of the\nsummary jurisdiction of Jack Ketch. No one doubted this until the story\nof the apparition of the murderess began to be spread abroad, then awful\nmisgivings arose in the popular mind.\n\nA woman who had been born close by the magical well, and who had\ntherefore in all probability been baptized in its water, like\nher neighbours of the parish, had nevertheless been publicly and\nunquestionably hanged. However, probability is not always the truth.\nEvery parishioner determined that the baptismal register of the poisoner\nshould be sought for, and that it should be thus officially ascertained\nwhether she had been christened with the well water or not. After much\ntrouble, the important document was discovered\u2014not where it was at first\nlooked after, but in a neighbouring parish. A mistake had been made\nabout the woman\u2019s birthplace; she had not been baptized in St Ludgvan\nchurch, and had therefore not been protected by the marvellous virtue of\nthe local water. Unutterable was the joy and triumph of this discovery.\nThe wonderful character of the parish well was wonderfully vindicated;\nits celebrity immediately spread wider than ever. The peasantry of the\nneighbouring districts began to send for the renowned water before\nchristenings; and many of them actually continue, to this day, to bring\nit corked up in bottles to their churches, and to beg particularly that\nit may be used whenever they present their children to be baptized.[16]\n\n\nGULVAL WELL.\n\nA young woman, with a child in her arms, stands by the side of Gulval\nWell, in Fosses Moor. There is an expression of extreme anxiety in her\ninteresting face, which exhibits a considerable amount of intelligence.\nShe appears to doubt, and yet be disposed to believe in, the virtues\nof this remarkable well. She pauses, looks at her babe, and sighs. She\nis longing to know something of the absent, but she fears the well may\nindicate the extreme of human sorrow. While she is hesitating, an old\nwoman advances towards her, upon whom the weight of eighty years was\npressing, but not over heavily; and she at once asked the young mother if\nshe wished to ask the well after the health of her husband.\n\n\u201cYes, Aunt Alcie,\u201d she replied; \u201cI am so anxious. I have not heard of\nJohn for six long months. I could not sleep last night, so I rose with\nthe light, and came here, determined to ask the well; but I am afraid. O\nAunt Alcie, suppose the well should not speak, I should die on the spot!\u201d\n\n\u201cNonsense, cheeld,\u201d said the old woman; \u201cthy man is well enough; and the\nwell will boil, if thee\u2019lt ask it in a proper spirit.\u201d\n\n\u201cBut, Aunt Alcie, if it sends up puddled water, or if it remains quiet,\nwhat would become of me?\u201d\n\n\u201cNever be foreboding, cheeld; troubles come quick without running to meet\n\u2019em. Take my word for it, the fayther of thy little un will soon be home\nagain. Ask the well! ask the well!\u201d\n\n\u201cHas it told any death or sickness lately?\u201d asked the young mother.\n\n\u201cOn St Peter\u2019s eve Mary Curnew questioned the water about poor Willy.\u201d\n\n\u201cAnd the water never moved?\u201d\n\n\u201cThe well was quiet; and verily I guess it was about that time he died.\u201d\n\n\u201cAny sickness, Aunt Alcie?\u201d\n\n\u201cJenny Kelinach was told, by a burst of mud, how ill her old mother was;\nbut do not be feard, all is well with Johnny Thomas.\u201d\n\nStill the woman hesitated; desire, fear, hope, doubt, superstition, and\nintelligence struggled within her heart and brain.\n\nThe old creature, who was a sort of guardian to the well, used all her\nrude eloquence to persuade Jane Thomas to put her question, and at length\nshe consented. Obeying the old woman\u2019s directions, she knelt on the mat\nof bright green grass which grew around, and leaning over the well so as\nto see her face in the water, she repeated after her instructor,\n\n \u201cWater, water, tell me truly,\n Is the man I love duly\n On the earth, or under the sod,\n Sick or well,\u2014in the name of God?\u201d\n\nSome minutes passed in perfect silence, and anxiety was rapidly turning\ncheeks and lips pale, when the colour rapidly returned. There was a gush\nof clear water from below, bubble rapidly followed bubble, sparkling\nbrightly in the morning sunshine. Full of joy, the young mother rose from\nher knees, kissed her child, and exclaimed, \u201cI am happy now!\u201d[17]\n\n\nTHE WELL OF ST KEYNE.\n\nSt Keyne came to this well about five hundred years before the Norman\nConquest, and imparted a strange virtue to its waters\u2014namely, that\nwhichever of a newly-married couple should first drink thereof, was to\nenjoy the sweetness of domestic sovereignty ever after.\n\nSituated in a thickly-wooded district, the well of St Keyne presents a\nsingularly picturesque appearance. \u201cFour trees of divers kinds,\u201d grow\nover the well, imparting a delightful shade, and its clear waters spread\nan emerald luxuriance around. Once, and once only, have I paid a visit to\nthis sacred spot. Then and there I found a lady drinking of the waters\nfrom her thimble, and eagerly contending with her husband, that the right\nto rule was hers. The man, however, mildly insisted upon it that he had\nhad the first drink, as he had rushed before his wife, and dipping his\nfingers into the waters, had sucked them. This the lady contended was\nnot drinking, and she, I have no doubt, through life had the best of the\nargument.\n\nTonkin says, in his \u201cHistory of Cornwall,\u201d \u201cDid it retain this wondrous\nquality, as it does to this day the shape, I believe there would be to\nit a greater resort of both sexes than either to Bath or Tunbridge; for\nwho would not be fond of attaining this longed-for sovereignty?\u201d He then\nadds, \u201cSince the writing of this, the trees were blown down by a violent\nstorm, and in their place Mr Rashleigh, in whose land it is, has planted\ntwo oaks, an ash, and an elm, which thrive well; but the wonderful arch\nis destroyed.\u201d The author can add to this that (as he supposes, owing to\nthe alteration made in the trees) the sovereign virtues of the waters\nhave perished.\n\nSouthey\u2019s ballad will be remembered by most readers:\u2014\n\n \u201cA well there is in the west country,\n And a clearer one never was seen;\n There is not a wife in the west country\n But has heard of the Well of St Keyne.\n\n \u201cAn oak and an elm-tree stand beside,\n And behind doth an ash-tree grow,\n And a willow from the bank above\n Droops to the water below.\u201d\n\nIt has been already stated that, sitting in St Michael\u2019s Chair, on the\ntower of the church of St Michael\u2019s Mount, has the same virtue as the\nwaters of this well; and that this remarkable power was the gift of the\nsame St Keyne who imparted such wonderful properties to this well.\n\n\nMADDERN OR MADRON WELL.\n\n \u201cPlunge thy right hand in St Madron\u2019s spring,\n If true to its troth be the palm you bring;\n But if a false digit thy fingers bear,\n Lay them at once on the burning share.\u201d\n\nOf the holy well at St Maddern, Carne[18] writes thus:\u2014\n\n\u201cIt has been contended that a virgin was the patroness of this\nchurch\u2014that she was buried at Minster\u2014and that many miracles were\nperformed at her grave. A learned commentator, however, is satisfied that\nit was St Motran, who was one of the large company that did come from\nIreland with St Buriana, and he was slain at the mouth of the Hayle; the\nbody was begged, and afterwards buried here. Near by was the miraculous\nWell of St Maddern, over which a chapel was built, so sacred was it held.\n(This chapel was destroyed by the fanaticism of Major Ceely in the days\nof Cromwell.) It stood at no great distance on the moor, and the soil\naround it was black and boggy, mingled with a gray moorstone....\n\n\u201cThe votaries bent awfully and tremblingly over its sedgy bank, and gazed\non its clear bosom for a few minutes ere they proved the fatal ordeal;\nthen an imploring look was cast towards the figure of St Motran, many\na crossing was repeated, and at last the pin or pebble held aloof was\ndropped into the depth beneath. Often did the rustic beauty fix her eye\nintently on the bubbles that rose, and broke, and disappeared; for in\nthat moment the lover was lost, or the faithful husband gained. It was\nonly on particular days, however, according to the increase or decrease\nof the moon, that the hidden virtues of the well were consulted.\u201d[19]\n\n MADRON WELL.\n\n Of this well we have the following notice by William Scawen,\n Esq., Vice-Warden of the Stannaries. The paper from which we\n extract it, was first printed by Davies Gilbert, Esq., F.R.S.,\n as an appendix to his \u201cParochial History of Cornwall.\u201d Its\n complete title is, \u201cObservations on an Ancient Manuscript,\n entitled \u2018Passio Christo,\u2019 written in the Cornish Language, and\n now preserved in the Bodleian Library; with an Account of the\n Language, Manners, and Customs of the People of Cornwall, (from\n a Manuscript in the Library of Thomas Artle, Esq., 1777)\u201d:\u2014\n\n \u201cOf St Mardren\u2019s Well, (which is a parish west to the Mount,)\n a fresh true story of two persons, both of them lame and\n decrepit, thus recovered from their infirmity. These two\n persons, after they had applied themselves to divers physicians\n and chirurgeons, for cure, and finding no success by them,\n they resorted to St Mardren\u2019s Well, and according to the\n ancient custom which they had heard of, the same which was\n once in a year\u2014to wit, on Corpus Christi evening, to lay some\n small offering on the altar there, and to lie on the ground\n all night, drink of the water there, and in the morning after\n to take a good draught more, and to take and carry away some\n of the water, each of them in a bottle, at their departure.\n This course these two men followed, and within three weeks\n they found the effect of it, and, by degrees their strength\n increasing, were able to move themselves on crutches. The year\n following they took the same course again, after which they\n were able to go with the help of a stick; and at length one of\n them, John Thomas, being a fisherman, was, and is at this day,\n able to follow his fishing craft. The other, whose name was\n William Cork, was a soldier under the command of my kinsman,\n Colonel William Godolphin, (as he has often told me,) was able\n to perform his duty, and died in the service of his majesty\n King Charles. But herewith take also this:\u2014\n\n \u201cOne Mr Hutchens, a person well known in those parts, and now\n lately dead, being parson of Ludgvan, a near neighbouring\n parish to St Mardren\u2019s Well, he observed that many of his\n parishioners often frequented this well superstitiously, for\n which he reproved them privately, and sometimes publicly, in\n his sermons; but afterwards he, the said Mr Hutchens, meeting\n with a woman coming from the well with a bottle in her hand,\n desired her earnestly that he might drink thereof, being then\n troubled with cholical pains, which accordingly he did, and was\n eased of his infirmity.\u201d The latter story is a full confutation\n of the former; for, if the taking the water accidentally thus\n prevailed upon the party to his cure, as it is likely it did,\n then the miracle which was intended to be by the ceremony of\n lying on the ground and offering is wholly fled, and it leaves\n the virtue of the water to be the true cause of the cure. And\n we have here, as in many places of the land, great variety of\n salutary springs, which have diversity of operations, which\n by natural reason have been found to be productive of good\n effects, and not by miracle, as the vain fancies of monks and\n friars have been exercised in heretofore.\n\n Bishop Hale, of Exeter, in his \u201cGreat Mystery of Godliness,\u201d\n says:\u2014\u201cOf which kind was that noe less than miraculous cure,\n which, at St Maddern\u2019s Well, in Cornwall, was wrought upon\n a poore cripple; whereof, besides the attestation of many\n hundreds of the neighbours, I tooke a strict and impartial\n examination in my last triennial visitation there. This man,\n for sixteen years, was forced to walke upon his hands, by\n reason of the sinews of his leggs were soe contracted that he\n cold not goe or walke on his feet, who upon monition in a dream\n to wash in that well, which accordingly he did, was suddainly\n restored to the use of his limbs; and I sawe him both able to\n walk and gett his owne maintenance. I found here was neither\n art or collusion,\u2014the cure done, the author our invisible God,\u201d\n &c.\n\n In Madron Well\u2014and, I have no doubt, in many others\u2014may be\n found frequently the pins which have been dropped by maidens\n desirous of knowing \u201cwhen they were to be married.\u201d I once\n witnessed the whole ceremony performed by a group of beautiful\n girls, who had walked on a May morning from Penzance. Two\n pieces of straw, about an inch long each, were crossed and the\n pin run through them. This cross was then dropped into the\n water, and the rising bubbles carefully counted, as they marked\n the number of years which would pass ere the arrival of the\n happy day. This practice also prevailed amongst the visitors to\n the well at the foot of Monacuddle Grove, near St Austell.\n\n On approaching the waters, each visitor is expected to throw\n in a crooked pin; and, if you are lucky, you may possibly see\n the other pins rising from the bottom to meet the most recent\n offering. Rags and votive offerings to the genius of the waters\n are hung around many of the wells. Mr Couch says:\u2014\u201cAt Madron\n Well, near Penzance, I observed the custom of hanging rags on\n the thorns which grew in the enclosure.\u201d\n\n Crofton Croker tells us the same custom prevails in Ireland;\n and Dr O\u2019Connor, in his \u201cTravels in Persia,\u201d describes the\n prevalence of this custom.\n\n Mr Campbell,[20] on this subject, writes:\u2014\u201cHoly healing wells\n are common all over the Highlands, and people still leave\n offerings of pins and nails, and bits of rag, though few would\n confess it. There is a well in Islay where I myself have, after\n drinking, deposited copper caps amongst a hoard of pins and\n buttons, and similar gear, placed in chinks in the rocks and\n trees at the edge of the \u2018Witches\u2019 Well.\u2019 There is another well\n with similar offerings freshly placed beside it, in an island\n in Loch Maree, in Ross-shire, and many similar wells are to\n be found in other places in Scotland. For example, I learn\n from Sutherland that \u2018a well in the Black Isle of Cromarty,\n near Rosehaugh, has miraculous healing powers. A country woman\n tells me, that about forty years ago, she remembers it being\n surrounded by a crowd of people every first Tuesday in June,\n who bathed and drank of it before sunrise. Each patient tied\n a string or rag to one of the trees that overhung it before\n leaving. It was sovereign for headaches. Mr \u2014\u2014 remembers to\n have seen a well, here called Mary\u2019s Well, hung round with\n votive rags.\u2019\u201d\n\n Well-worship is mentioned by Martin. The custom, in his day, in\n the Hebrides, was to walk south round about the well.\n\n Sir William Betham, in his \u201cGael and Cymbri,\u201d (Dublin: W.\n Curry, Jun., & Co., 1834,) says, at page 235:\u2014\u201cThe Celt\u00e6\n were much addicted to the worship of fountains and rivers as\n divinities. They had a deity called Divona, or the river-god.\u201d\n\n\nTHE WELL AT ALTAR-NUN. CURE OF INSANITY.\n\nAmongst the numerous holy wells which exist in Cornwall, that of\nAlternon, or Altar-Nun, is the only one, as far as I can learn, which\npossessed the virtue of curing the insane.\n\nWe are told that Saint Nunne or Nuanita was the daughter of an Earl\nof Cornwall, and the mother of St David; that the holy well, which is\nsituated about a mile from the cathedral of St David, was dedicated\nto her; and that she bestowed on the waters of the Cornish well those\nremarkable powers, which were not given to the Welsh one, from her\nfondness for the county of her birth.\n\nCarew, in his \u201cSurvey of Cornwall,\u201d thus describes the practice:\u2014\n\n\u201cThe water running from St Nun\u2019s well fell into a square and enclosed\nwalled plot, which might be filled at what depth they listed. Upon this\nwall was the frantic person put to stand, his back towards the pool, and\nfrom thence, with a sudden blow in the breast, tumbled headlong into\nthe pond; where a strong fellow, provided for the nonce, took him, and\ntossed him up and down, alongst and athwart the water, till the patient,\nby foregoing his strength, had somewhat forgot his fury. Then was he\nconveyed to the church, and certain masses said over him: upon which\nhandling, if his right wits returned, St Nun had the thanks; but if there\nappeared small amendment, he was bowssened again and again, while there\nremained in him any hope of life or recovery.\u201d\n\nThe 2d of March is dedicated to St Nun, and the influence of the water is\ngreatly exalted on that day.\n\nAlthough St Nun\u2019s well has been long famous, and the celebrity of its\nwaters extended far, yet there was a belief prevailing amidst the\nuneducated, that the sudden shock produced by suddenly plunging an insane\nperson into water was most effective in producing a return to reason.\n\nOn one occasion, a woman of weak mind, who was suffering under the\ninfluence of a religious monomania, consulted me on the benefit she might\nhope to receive from electricity. The burden of her ever-melancholy tale\nwas, that \u201cshe had lost her God;\u201d and she told me, with a strange mixture\nof incoherence and reason, that her conviction was that a sudden shock\nwould cure her. She had herself proposed to her husband and friends that\nthey should take her to a certain rock on St Michael\u2019s Mount, stand her\non it, with her back to the sea, when \u201cthe waters were the strongest, at\nthe flowing of the tide;\u201d and after having prayed with her, give her the\nnecessary blow on the chest, and thus plunge her into the waters below.\nI know not that the experiment was ever made in the case of this poor\nwoman, but I have heard of several instances where this sudden plunge had\nbeen tried as a cure for insanity.\n\nMr T. Q. Couch thus describes the present condition of this well in a\npaper on \u201cWell-Worship:\u201d\u2014[21]\n\n\u201cOn the western side of the beautiful valley through which flows the\nTrelawney River, and near Hobb\u2019s Park, in the parish of Pelynt, Cornwall,\nis St Nun\u2019s, or St Ninnie\u2019s Well. Its position was, until lately, to be\ndiscovered by the oak-tree matted with ivy, and the thicket of willow and\nbramble which grew upon its roof. The front of the well is of a pointed\nform, and has a rude entrance about four feet high, and spanned above\nby a single flat stone, which leads into a grotto with arched roof. The\nwalls on the interior are draped with luxuriant fronds of spleenwort,\nhart\u2019s tongue, and a rich undercovering of liverwort. At the further end\nof the floor is a round granite basin, with a deeply moulded brim, and\nornamented on its circumference with a series of rings, each enclosing\na cross or a ball. The water weeps into it from an opening at the back,\nand escapes again by a hole in the bottom. This interesting piece of\nantiquity has been protected by a tradition which we could wish to attach\nto some of our cromlechs and circles in danger of spoliation.\u201d\n\nAccording to the narrative given by Mr Bond in his \u201cHistory of Looe,\u201d the\nsacred protection given must have been limited in time, as the following\nstory will prove:\u2014\n\n \u201cKIPPISCOMBE LANE,\n\n Probably so called from a consecrated well on the right hand\n side of the road. The titular saint of this well is supposed\n to have been St Cuby, now corrupted into Keby\u2019s Well. The\n spring flows into a circular basin or reservoir of granite,\n or of some stone like it, two feet four inches at its extreme\n diameter at top, and about two feet high. It appears to have\n been neatly carved and ornamented in its lower part with the\n figure of a griffin, and round the edge with dolphins, now much\n defaced. The water was formerly carried off by a drain or hole\n at the bottom, like those usually seen in fonts and piscinas.\n This basin (which I take to be an old font) was formerly\n much respected by the neighbours, who conceived some great\n misfortune would befall the person who should attempt to remove\n it from where it stood, and that it required immense power to\n remove it. A daring fellow, however, (says a story,) once went\n with a team of oxen for the express purpose of removing it. On\n his arrival at the spot, one of the oxen fell down dead, which\n so alarmed the fellow that he desisted from the attempt he was\n about to make. There are several loose stones scattered round\n this basin or reservoir, perhaps the remains of some building\n which formerly enclosed it\u2014a small chapel likely. The last time\n I saw this reservoir it had been taken many feet from where it\n used to stand, and a piece of the brim of it had been recently\n struck off.\u201d\n\n\nST GUNDRED\u2019S WELL AT ROACH ROCK.\n\nCarew, in his \u201cSurvey of Cornwall,\u201d p. 139, (p. 324, Lord Dunstanville\u2019s\nedit.,) tells us, \u201cnear this rock there is another which, having a pit\nin it, containeth water which ebbs and flows as the sea does. I was\nthereupon very curious to inspect this matter, and found it was only a\nhole artificially cut in a stone, about twelve inches deep and six broad;\nwherein after rayne, a pool of water stands, which afterwards with fair\nweather vanisheth away, and is dried up; and then again, on the falling\nof rain, water is replenished accordingly, which with dry weather abates\nas aforesaid, (for upon those occasions I have seen it to have water in\nits pit, and again to be without it,) which doubtless gave occasion to\nthe feigned report that it ebbs and flows as the sea:\u201d of all which\npremisses thus speaks Mr Carew further, out of the Cornish \u201cWonder\nGatherer\u201d:\u2014\n\n \u201cYou neighbour scorners, holy, proud,\n Goe people Roache\u2019s cell,\n Far from the world and neer to the heavens;\n There hermitts may you dwell.\n\n \u201cIs\u2019t true the springe in rock hereby\n Doth tidewise ebb and flowe?\n Or have we fooles with lyars met?\n Fame says its, be it soe.\u201d\n\nThe last tradition of this hermitage chapel is, that when it was kept\nin repair, a person diseased with a grievous leprosy, was either placed\nor fixed himself therein, where he lived until the time of his death,\nto avoid infecting others. He was daily attended with meat, drink, and\nwashing by his daughter, named Gunnett or Gundred, and the well hereby\nfrom whence she fetched water for his use is to this day shewn, and\ncalled by the name of St Gunnett\u2019s Well, or St Gundred\u2019s Well.\n\nIt is not possible to give even the names of the wells which are still\nthought to have \u201csome healing virtue\u201d in them. The typical wells have\nalone been mentioned, and to these brief notices of a few others may be\nadded.\n\n\nST CUTHBERT\u2019S OR CUBERT\u2019S WELL.\n\nHal thus describes this famous place:\u2014\u201cIn this parish is that famous\nand well-known spring of water, called Holy-well, (so named, the\ninhabitants say, for that the virtues of this water was first discovered\non All-Hallows day.) The same stands in a dark cavern of the seacliff\nrocks, beneath full seamark on spring-tides, from the top of which cavern\nfalls down or distills continually drops of water from the white, blue,\nred, and green veins of those rocks. And accordingly, in the place where\nthose drops of water fall, it swells to a lump of considerable bigness,\nand there petrifies to the hardness of ice, glass, or freestone, of the\nseveral colours aforesaid, according to the nature of those veins in the\nrock from whence it proceeds, and is of a hard, brittle nature, apt to\nbreak like glass.\n\n\u201cThe virtues of this water are very great. It is incredible what numbers\nin summer-season frequent this place and waters from counties far\ndistant.\u201d[22]\n\n\nRICKETY CHILDREN.\n\nThe practice of bathing rickety children on the first three Wednesdays\nin May is still far from uncommon in the outlying districts of Cornwall.\nThe parents will walk many miles for the purpose of dipping the little\nsufferers in some well, from which the \u201chealing virtue\u201d has not entirely\ndeparted. Among these holy wells, Cubert, just named, is far-famed. To\nthis well the peasantry still resort, firm in the faith that there, at\nthis especial season, some mysterious virtue is communicated to its\nwaters. On these occasions, only a few years since, the crowd assembled\nwas so large, that it assumed the character of a fair.\n\n\nCHAPELL UNY.\n\nOn the first three Wednesdays in May, children suffering from mesenteric\ndiseases are dipped three times in this well, _against the sun_,\nand _dragged_ three times around the well on the grass, in the same\ndirection.\n\n\nPERRAN WELL.\n\nChildren were cured of several diseases by being bathed in this well.\nThey were also carried to the sea-shore, and passed through a cleft in\na rock on the shore at Perranzabalo. In the autumn of 1863 I sought for\nthese holy waters. I was informed that some miners, in driving an adit,\nhad tapped the spring and drained it. There is not, therefore, a trace of\nthis once most celebrated well remaining. It was with difficulty that its\nsite could be discovered. I have since learned that the cut stone-work\nwhich ornamented this holy place, was removed to Chiverton, for the\npurpose of preserving it.\n\n\nREDRUTH WELL.\n\nNo child christened in this well has ever been hanged. Saint Ruth,\nsaid to have been called Red Ruth, because she always wore a scarlet\ncloak, especially blessed, to this extent, those waters. I believe the\npopulation in this large parish cares but little now, whether their\nchildren be baptized with this well water or any other; but, half a\ncentury since, it was very different. Then, many a parent would insist\non seeing the water taken from the well and carried to the font in the\nchurch.\n\n\nHOLY WELL AT LITTLE CONAN.\n\nOn Palm Sunday the people resorted to the well sacred to \u201cOur Lady of\nNant\u2019s,\u201d with a cross of palm, and after making the priest a present,\nthey were allowed to throw the cross into the well; if it swam the\nthrower was to outlive the year, if it sank he was not.[23]\n\n\nTHE PRESERVATION OF HOLY WELLS.\n\nIt is a very common notion amongst the peasantry, that a just retribution\novertakes those who wilfully destroy monuments, such as stone circles,\ncrosses, wells, and the like. Mr Blight writes me\u2014\u201cWhilst at Boscaswell,\nin St Just, a few weeks since, an old man told me, that a person who\naltered an old Holy Well there, was drowned the next day in sight of his\nhome, and that a person who carried away the stones of an ancient chapel,\nhad his house burned down that very night.\u201d We hope the certainty of\npunishment will prevent any further spoliation. Cannot we do something\ntowards the preservation of our antiquities? I quote from a local paper\nthe following:\u2014\n\n \u201cIf the attention of the members of the Penzance Antiquarian\n Society were directed to the state of the \u2018Holy Well\u2019 at\n Laneast, and the remains of the Old Chapel Park, St Clether,\n they might perhaps induce the proprietors of these \u2018remnants\n of antiquity\u2019 to bestow a little care on the same, and arrest\n their further ruin and destruction. Many other \u2018objects of\n interest\u2019 are in a sad state of neglect, and fast \u2018fading\n away.\u2019 Slaughtor Bridge, near Camelford, has completely\n vanished. This is much to be regretted, and is a double\n loss\u2014first, to those who delight in these \u2018memorials of the\n past,\u2019 and also to the town and neighbourhood, depriving them\n of an attraction that has induced many strangers of taste to\n pay them a visit.\u201d\n\n\n\n\nKING ARTHUR.\n\n \u201cThere is a place within\n The winding shore of Severne sea\n On mids of rock, about whose foote\n The tydes turne\u2014keeping play.\n A towery-topped castle here,\n Wide blazeth over all,\n Which Corineus ancient broode\n Tintagel Castle call.\u201d\n\n _Old Poet\u2014Translated by_ CAMDEN.\n\n\n\n\nROMANCES OF ARTHUR.\n\n\nARTHUR LEGENDS.\n\n \u201cFor there was no man knew from whence he came;\n But after tempest, when the long wave broke\n All down the thundering shores of Bude and Boas,\n There came a day as still as heaven, and then\n They found a naked child upon the sands\n Of wild Dundagil by the Cornish sea;\n And that was Arthur.\u201d\n\n _Idyls of the King_\u2014TENNYSON.\n\nThe scarcity of traditions connected with King Arthur is not a little\nremarkable in Cornwall, where he is said to have been born, and where\nwe believe him to have been killed. In the autumn of last year (1863) I\nvisited Tintagel and Camelford. I sought with anxiety for some stories of\nthe British king, but not one could be obtained. The man who has charge\nof the ruins of the castle\u2014was very sorry that he had lent a book which\nhe once had, and which contained many curious stories, but he had no\nstory to tell me.\n\nWe hear of Prince Arthur at the Land\u2019s End, and of his fights with\nthe Danes in two or three other places. Merlin, who may be considered\nas especially associated with Arthur, has left indications of his\npresence here and there, in prophetic rhymes not always fulfilled; but\nof Arthur\u2019s chieftains we have no folk-lore. All the rock markings, or\nrock peculiarities, which would in West Cornwall have been given to the\ngiants, are referred to King Arthur in the eastern districts.\n\nJack the Giant Killer and Thomas Thumb\u2014the former having been tutor, in\nhis own especial calling, to King Arthur\u2019s only son,[24] and the latter\nthe king\u2019s favourite dwarf[25]\u2014are, except in story-books, unknown. Jack\nHornby,[26]\u2014if he ever lived near the Land\u2019s End, unless he is the same\nwith \u201cLittle Jack Horner,\u201d\u2014has been so long a stranger, that his name is\nforgotten.\n\nThe continuance of a fixed belief in the existence of Arthur is easily\nexplained. The poets and the romance writers have made the achievements\nof a British chieftain familiar to all the people; and Arthur has not\nonly a name, but a local habitation given to him equally in Scotland,\nEngland, Wales, and Ireland.\n\nMr Campbell, in his \u201cWest Highland Tales,\u201d gives a \u201cGenealogy Abridgment\nof the very ancient and noble family of Argyle, 1779.\u201d The writer says\nthis family began with Constantine, grandfather to King Arthur; and he\ninforms us that Sir Moroie Mor, a son of King Arthur, of whom great and\nstrange things are told in the Irish traditions\u2014who was born at Dumbarton\nCastle, and who was usually known as \u201cThe Fool of the Forest\u201d\u2014was the\nreal progenitor of \u201cMac Callen Mor.\u201d From this Moroie Mor was derived the\nmighty Diarmaid, celebrated in many a Gaelic lay\u2014\u201cto whom all popular\ntraditions trace the Campbell clan.\u201d\n\n\u201cArthur and Diarmaid,\u201d writes Mr Campbell, \u201cprimeval Celtic worthies,\nwhose very existence the historian ignores, are thus brought together by\na family genealogist.\u201d\n\n\u201cWas the Constantine grandfather to Arthur one of the five tyrants named\nby Gildas?\u201d\u2014I quote from Camden[27] and Milton.[28]\n\n_Constantinus_, son of Cador, Duke of Cornwall, Arthur\u2019s half-brother by\nthe mother\u2019s side, \u201ca tyrannical and bloody king.\u201d\n\n_Aurelius Conanus_, who \u201cwallowed in murder and adultery.\u201d\n\n_Vortipore_, \u201ctyrant of the Dimeta.\u201d\n\n_Cuneglas_, \u201cthe yellow butcher.\u201d\n\n_Maglocunes_, \u201cthe island dragon.\u201d\n\nIt is curious to find a Scotch genealogist uniting in one bond the Arthur\nof Dundagel and the ancestors of the Argyles of Dumbarton.\n\nMay we not after this venture to suggest that, in all probability, the\nparish of Constantine, (pronounced, however, _Cus-ten-ton_,) between\nHelstone and Penryn, may derive its name from this Constantinus, rather\nthan from the first Christian emperor.\n\nAgain, the family of Cossentine has been often said to be offsets from\nConstantine, the descendant of the Greek emperors, who was buried in\nLandulph church. Seeing that the name has been known for so long a period\nin Cornwall, may not this family rather trace their origin up to this\nConstantine the Tyrant?\n\n\nTHE BATTLE OF VELLAN-DRUCHAR.[29]\n\nThe Sea Kings, in their predatory wanderings, landed in Genvor Cove,\nand, as they had frequently done on previous occasions, they proceeded\nto pillage the little hamlet of Escols. On one occasion they landed in\nunusually large numbers, being resolved, as it appeared, to spoil many of\nthe large and wealthy towns of Western Cornwall, which they were led to\nbelieve were unprotected. It fortunately happened that the heavy surf on\nthe beach retarded their landing, so that the inhabitants had notice of\ntheir threatened invasion.\n\nThat night the beacon fire was lit on the chapel hill, another was\nsoon blazing on Castle-an-dinas, and on Trecrobben. Carn Brea promptly\nreplied, and continued the signal-light, which also blazed lustrously\nthat night on St Agnes Beacon. Presently the fires were seen on Belovely\nBeacon, and rapidly they appeared on the Great Stone, on St Bellarmine\u2019s\nTor, and Cadbarrow, and then the fires blazed out on Roughtor and\nBrownwilly, thus rapidly conveying the intelligence of war to Prince\nArthur and his brave knights, who were happily assembled in full force\nat Tintagel to do honour to several native Princes who were at that time\non a visit to the King of Cornwall. Arthur, and nine other kings, by\nforced marches, reached the neighbourhood of the Land\u2019s-End at the end\nof two days. The Danes crossed the land down through the bottoms to the\nsea on the northern side of the promontory, spreading destruction in\ntheir paths. Arthur met them on their return, and gave them battle near\nVellan-Druchar. So terrible was the slaughter, that the mill was worked\nwith blood that day. Not a single Dane of the vast army that had landed\nescaped. A few had been left in charge of the ships, and as soon as they\nlearned the fate of their brethren, they hastened to escape, hoping to\nreturn to their own northern land. A holy woman, whose name has not been\npreserved to us, \u201cbrought home a west wind\u201d by emptying the Holy Well\nagainst the hill, and sweeping the church from the door to the altar.\nThus they were prevented from escaping, and were all thrown by the force\nof a storm and the currents either on the rocky shore, or on the sands,\nwhere they were left high and dry. It happened on the occasion of an\nextraordinary spring-tide, which was yet increased by the wind, so that\nthe ships lay high up on the rocks, or on the sands; and for years the\nbirds built their nests in the masts and rigging.\n\nThus perished the last army of Danes who dared to land upon our western\nshores.\n\nKing Arthur and the nine kings pledged each other in the holy water from\nSt Sennen\u2019s Well, they returned thanks for their victory in St Sennen\u2019s\nChapel, and dined that day on the Table-men.\n\nMerlin, the prophet, was amongst the host, and the feast being ended, he\nwas seized with the prophetic afflatus, and in the hearing of all the\nhost proclaimed\u2014\n\n \u201cThe northmen wild once more shall land,\n And leave their bones on Escol\u2019s sand.\n The soil of Vellan-Druchar\u2019s plain,\n Again shall take a sanguine stain;\n And o\u2019er the mill wheel roll a flood\n Of Danish mixed with Cornish blood.\n When thus the vanquished find no tomb,\n Expect the dreadful day of doom.\u201d\n\n\nARTHUR AT THE LAND\u2019S-END.\n\nBolerium, or _Bellerium_, is the name given by the ancients to the\nLand\u2019s-End. Diodorus writes, Belerium; Ptolemy, Bolerium. Milton adopts\nthis name in his \u201cLycidas,\u201d and leads his readers to infer that it was\nderived from the Giant Bellerus. It is quite possible that in Milton\u2019s\ntime the name of one of the numerous giants who appear to have made the\nLands-End district their dwelling-place, might have still lived in the\nmemories of men. Certain it is no such a giant is remembered now.[30]\n\nIn a map of Saxon England we find the Land\u2019s-End called Pen\ua783i\u00f0\ua785\ua787eo\ua783\ua787, and\nin some early English books this promontory is named _Penrhin-guard_,\nand _Penrlien-gard_, said to signify the \u201cHeadland of Blood.\u201d[31] The\nold Cornish people called this promontory \u201cPen-von-las,\u201d the \u201cEnd\nof the Earth,\u201d hence we derive the name of the Land\u2019s-End. May not\nthis sanguinary name have been derived from a fact, and that actually\nseveral battles were fought by the Britons under the command of Arthur,\nwith the Saxons or the Danes, in this neighbourhood? We have not far\noff the _Field of Slaughter_, \u201cBollait,\u201d where the ancient people of\nCornwall made their final stand against the Saxons. On this field flint\narrow-heads have frequently been found. The tradition of Vellan-Druchar,\nwhich is but one of several I have heard of a similar character, points\nto the same idea. Arthur, according to one story, held possession of\nTrereen Castle for some time. Another castle on the north coast is said\nto have been occupied by him. An old man living in Pendean once told me\nthat the land at one time \u201cswarmed with giants, until Arthur, the good\nking, vanished them all with his cross-sword.\u201d\n\n\nTRADITIONS OF THE DANES IN CORNWALL.\n\nThe Danes are said to have landed in several places around the coast, and\nhave made permanent settlements in some parts. We have already spoken\nof the battle of Vellan-druchar. In Sennen Cove there was for a long\nperiod a colony of red-haired people,\u2014indeed, I am informed some of them\nstill live on the spot,\u2014with whom the other inhabitants of the district\nrefused to marry. Up to a very recent period, in several of the outlying\nvillages, a red-haired family was \u201clooked down\u201d upon. \u201cOh, he or she is a\nred-haired Da\u00e4ne,\u201d was a common expression of contempt.\n\nThere are several hills which bear the names of Danes\u2019 castles\u2014as\nCastle-an-Dinas, near Penzance, and another in St Columb.[32] Another\nvery remarkable earthwork in Perran Zabula (_Caer-Dane_) is described by\nHals.[33]\n\nEventually the Danes are said to have made permanent settlements in\nCornwall, and to have lived on friendly terms with the Britons.\n\nThe Danes and the Cornish are reported to have concentrated their forces\nto oppose Egbert the Saxon. In 835 the combined body are reported to have\nmet, and fought a pitched battle on Hengistendane, (now Hengistondown,)\nnear Callington. The Cornish were so totally routed, that Egbert obliged\nthe Danes to retire to their ships, and passed a law \u201cthat no Briton\nshould in future cross the Tamar, or set foot on English ground, on pain\nof death.\u201d[34]\n\nIn 997 the Danes, sailing about Penwrith-steort, landed in several\nplaces, foraged the country, burnt the towns, and destroyed the\npeople.[35]\n\nMany of the traditions which are given in different parts of these\nvolumes have much of the Danish element in them.[36]\n\n\nKING ARTHUR IN THE FORM OF A CHOUGH.\n\nI quote the following as it stands:\u2014[37]\n\n \u201cIn Jarvis\u2019s translation of \u201cDon Quixote,\u201d book ii., chap. v.,\n the following passage occurs:\u2014\n\n \u201c\u2018Have you not read, sir,\u2019 answered Don Quixote, \u2018the annals\n and histories of England, wherein are recorded the famous\n exploits of King Arthur, whom, in our Castilian tongue, we\n always call King Artus; of whom there goes an old tradition,\n and a common one all over that kingdom of Great Britain, that\n this king did not die, but that, by magic art, he was turned\n into a raven; and that, in process of time, he shall reign\n again and recover his kingdom and sceptre, for which reason it\n cannot be proved that, from that time to this, any Englishman\n has killed a raven?\u2019\n\n \u201cMy reason for transcribing this passage is to record the\n curious fact that the legend of King Arthur\u2019s existence in the\n form of a raven was still repeated as a piece of folk lore in\n Cornwall about sixty years ago. My father, who died about two\n years since, at the age of eighty, spent a few years of his\n youth in the neighbourhood of Penzance. One day he was walking\n along Marazion Green with his fowling-piece on his shoulder, he\n saw a raven at a distance, and fired at it. An old man who was\n near immediately rebuked him, telling him that he ought on no\n account to have shot at a raven, for that King Arthur was still\n alive in the form of that bird. My father was much interested\n when I drew his attention to the passage which I have quoted\n above.\n\n \u201cPerhaps some of your Cornish or Welsh correspondents may be\n able to say whether the legend is still known among the people\n of Cornwall or Wales.\n\n \u201cEDGAR MACCULLOCH.\u201d\n\n \u201cGUERNSEY.\u201d\n\nI have been most desirous of discovering if any such legend as the above\nexists. I have questioned people in every part of Cornwall in which King\nArthur has been reported to have dwelt or fought, and especially have I\ninquired in the neighbourhood of Tintagel, which is reported to have\nbeen Arthur\u2019s stronghold. Nowhere do I find the raven associated with\nhim, but I have been told that bad luck would follow the man who killed a\nChough, for Arthur was transformed into one of these birds.\n\n\nTHE CORNISH CHOUGH.\n\nThe tradition relative to King Arthur and his transformation into a\nraven, is fixed very decidedly on the Cornish Chough, from the colour of\nits beak and talons. The\u2014\n\n \u201cTalons and beak all red with blood\u201d\n\nare said to mark the violent end to which this celebrated chieftain came.\n\n\nSLAUGHTER BRIDGE.\n\nHistorians and poets have made the world familiar with King Arthur. We\nknow how Merlin deceived, by his magic, the beautiful Igerna, so that\nshe received King Uter as her husband. We know also that Uter Pendragon\ndied, and that his son, by Igerna, reigned King of Britain. How Arthur\nruled, and how he slaughtered all the enemies of Britain, is told in the\nchronicles. But even at Tintagel[38] all is silent respecting the king or\nhis celebrated Round Table.\n\n\u201cIn the days of King Arthur the Mount of Cornwall was kept by a monstrous\ngiant,\u201d is familiar to us all; and it is curious to find a tradition\nthat the extirpation of these Titans was due to Arthur and Christianity,\nas already related. At Slaughter Bridge I heard the story, but it did\nnot sound like a tradition; the true native character was not in the\nnarrative. That in 824 the Cornish and Saxons fought so bloody a battle\nthat the river ran red with blood. On Slaughter Bridge Arthur is said\nto have killed his nephew, Modred, but that, previously to this last\nfight, Modred wounded his uncle with a poisoned sword, nearly in front of\nWorthyvale House. A single stone laid over a stream, having some letters\ncut on its lower surface, is believed to mark the exact spot where Arthur\nreceived his death-wound.\n\n\nCAMELFORD AND KING ARTHUR.\n\nAt the head of this river Alan is seated Camelford, otherwise written\nGalleford, a small town. It was formerly called Kambton, according to\nLeland, who tells us that \u201cArthur, the British Hector,\u201d was slain here,\nor in the valley near it. He adds, in support of this, that \u201cpieces of\narmour, rings, and brass furniture for horses are sometimes digged up\nhere by the countrymen; and after so many ages, the tradition of a bloody\nvictory in this place is still preserved.\u201d There are also extant some\nverses of a Middle Age poet about \u201cCamels\u201d running with blood after the\nbattle of Arthur against Modred.[39]\n\n\u201cCamulus is another name of the god of war, occurring in two of Gruter\u2019s\ninscriptions.\u201d[40]\n\nSeeing that Arthur\u2019s great battles were fought near this town, and on\nthe banks of the river, may not the names given to the town and river be\nderived from Camulus?\n\n \u201cO\u2019er Cornwall\u2019s cliffs the tempest roar\u2019d,\n High the screaming sea-mew soar\u2019d;\n On Tintagel\u2019s topmost tower\n Darksome fell the sleety shower;\n Round the rough castle shrilly sung\n The whirling blast, and wildly flung\n On each tall rampart\u2019s thundering side\n The surges of the tumbling tide:\n When Arthur ranged his red cross ranks\n On conscious Camlan\u2019s crimson\u2019d banks.\u201d\n\n _The Grave of King Arthur_\u2014WHARTON.\n\nIn a Welsh poem it is recited that Arthur, after the battle of Camlan\nin Cornwall, was interred in the Abbey of Glastonbury, before the high\naltar, without any external mark. Henry II is said to have visited the\nabbey, and to have ordered that the spot described by the bard should\nbe opened. We are told that at twenty feet deep they found the body\ndeposited under a large stone, with Arthur\u2019s name inscribed thereon.\n\nGlastonbury Abbey is said to have been founded by Joseph of Arimathea, in\na spot anciently called the island or valley of Avolmia or Avolon.\n\nBale, in his \u201cActs of English Votaries,\u201d attests to the finding of the\nremains of Arthur:\u2014\n\n\u201cIn Avallon, anno 1191, there found they the flesh bothe of Arthur and of\nhys wyfe Guenever turned all into duste, wythin theyr coffines of strong\noke, the bones only remaynynge. A monke of the same abbeye, standyng and\nbehouldyng the fine broydinges of the wommanis heare as _yellow as golde_\nthere still to remayne. As a man ravyshed, or more than halfe from his\nwyttes, he leaped into the graffe, xv fote depe, to have caugte them\nsodenlye. But he fayled of his purpose. For so soon as they were touched\nthey fell all to powder.\u201d\n\n\nDAMELIOCK CASTLE.\n\nThis ancient British castle once stood in savage grandeur a rival to\nTintagel. Its ruins, which can scarcely be traced, are in the parish of\nSt Tudy. Here Gothlois of the Purple Spear, Earl of Cornwall, fortified\nhimself against Uter Pendragon\u2019s soldiery, and here he was slain.\nGothlois, or Gothlouis, was the husband of Igerna, who was so cruelly\ndeceived by Uter, and who became the mother of Arthur.\n\n\nCARLIAN IN KEA.\n\nOne of the most celebrated of Arthur\u2019s knights, Sir Tristram, is said\nto have been born in this parish. A tradition of this is preserved in\nthe parish, but it is probably derived from the verses of Thomas of\nErceldoune, better known as Thomas the Rhymer.\n\n\n\n\nSORCERY AND WITCHCRAFT.\n\n \u201cAnd, wow! Tam saw an unco sight\u2014\n Warlocks and witches in a dance.\u201d\n\n _Tam o\u2019 Shanter_\u2014BURNS.\n\n\n\n\nROMANCES OF WITCHES, ETC.\n\n\nTHE \u201cCUNNING MAN.\u201d\n\n \u201cAnd as he rode over the more,\n Hee see a lady where shee sate\n Betwixt an oke and a greene hollen;\n She was cladd in red scarlett.\n\n \u201cThen there as shold have stood her mouth,\n Then there was sett her eye;\n The other was in her forhead fast,\n The way that she might see.\n\n \u201cHer nose was crook\u2019d and turn\u2019d outward,\n Her mouth stood foule awry;\n A worse-form\u2019d lady then shee was,\n Never man saw with his eye.\u201d\n\n _The Marriage of Sir Gawaine._\n\nThat a deep-rooted belief in the power of the witch still lingers in the\nremote districts of Cornwall cannot be denied. A gentleman, who has for\nmany years been actively engaged in a public capacity, gives me, in reply\nto some questions which I put to him relative to a witch or conjurer,\nmuch information, which is embodied in this section.\n\nA \u201ccunning man\u201d was long resident in Bodmin, to whom the people from all\nparts of the country went to be relieved of spells, under the influence\nof which either themselves or their cattle were supposed to be suffering.\nThomas \u2014\u2014, who resided at Nanstallan, not far from the town of Bodmin,\nwas waylaid, robbed, and well thrashed on his way home from market.\nThis act, which was accompanied by some appearance of brutality, was\ngenerally referred to one of the dupes of his cunning. Howbeit, Thomas\n\u2014\u2014 appears to have felt that the place was getting too hot for him, for\nhe migrated to one of the parishes on the western side of the Fowey\nriver. Numerous instances are within my knowledge of the belief which\nexisted amongst the peasantry that this man really possessed the power\nof removing the effects of witchcraft. Thomas \u2014\u2014 took up his abode for\nsome time with a small farmer, who had lost some cattle. These losses\nwere attributed to the malign influences of some evil-disposed person;\nbut as Thomas \u2014\u2014 failed to detect the individual, he with the farmer\nmade many journeys to Exeter, to consult the \u201cWhite Witch,\u201d who resided\nin that city. Whether the result was satisfactory or otherwise, I have\nnever learned. Thomas \u2014\u2014, it must be remembered, was only a \u201cwitch.\u201d The\nterm is applied equally to men as to women. I never heard any uneducated\nperson speak of a \u201cwizard.\u201d There appear to be, however, some very\nremarkable distinctions between a male and a female witch. The former\nis almost always employed to remove the evil influences exerted by the\nlatter. Witches, such as Thomas, had but limited power. They could tell\nwho had been guilty of ill-wishing, but they were powerless to break the\nspell and \u201cunbewitch\u201d the sufferer. This was frequently accomplished\nby the friends of the bewitched, who, in concert with Thomas \u2014\u2014, would\nperform certain ceremonies, many of them of an obscene, and usually of\na blasphemous, character. The \u201cWhite Witch\u201d was supposed to possess the\nhigher power of removing the spell, and of punishing the individual by\nwhose wickedness the wrong had been inflicted.\n\nJenny Harris was a reputed witch. This woman, old, poor, and, from the\nworld\u2019s ill usage, rendered malicious, was often charged with the evils\nwhich fell upon cattle, children, or, indeed, on men and women. On one\noccasion, a robust and rough-handed washerwoman, who conceived that she\nwas under the spell of Jenny Harris, laid violent hands on the aged\ncrone, being resolved to \u201cbring blood from her.\u201d The witch\u2019s arm was\nscratched and gouged from the elbow to the wrist, so that a sound inch of\nskin did not exist. This violent assault became the subject of inquiry\nbefore the magistrates, who fined the washerwoman five pounds for the\nassault.\n\nMy correspondent writes:\u2014\u201cI was also present at a magistrates\u2019 meeting at\nthe Porcupine Inn, near Tywardreath, some years ago, when an old woman\nfrom Golant was brought up for witchcraft. One farmer, who appeared\nagainst her, stated that he had then six bullocks hanging up in chains in\nhis orchard, and he attributed their disease and death to the poor old\nwoman\u2019s influence. The case was dismissed, but it afforded a good deal\nof merriment. There was a dinner at the inn after the meeting, and some\nof the farmers present were disposed to ridicule the idea of witchcraft.\nI said, well knowing their real views and opinions, \u2018Gentlemen, it is\nall well enough to laugh, but it appears to me to be a serious matter.\u2019\nUpon which Mr \u2014\u2014, a farmer of \u2014\u2014, said, \u2018You are right, Mr \u2014\u2014; I\u2019ll tell\nof two cases in which one family suffered severely,\u2019 and he gave us the\ndetails of the cases. All the others present had a case or two, each one\nwithin his own experience to vouch for, and the whole afternoon was spent\ntelling witch stories.\u201d\n\nThe extent to which this belief was carried within a comparatively\nrecent period, may be inferred from the fact that, on one occasion when\nthe visitors were assembled at the county asylum, a man residing at\nCallington came with the mother of a poor imbecile patient, and sent his\ncard to the boardroom. This was inscribed with his name and M.A. Upon\nbeing asked how he became a Master of Arts, he replied that he was a\n\u201cMaster of Black Arts.\u201d The object of this fellow\u2019s visit was, having\npersuaded the mother of his power, to propose to the visitors that\nthey should place the imbecile girl in his care, upon his undertaking,\non their paying him five pounds, to cure her. Of course this was not\nlistened to. This fellow imposed upon people to such an extent, that he\nwas eventually tried at the sessions, under an almost forgotten Act of\nParliament, for witchcraft. The impression on the mind of my informant is\nthat the case broke down.\n\n\nNOTES ON WITCHCRAFT.\n\nIn confirmation of the melancholy facts related of the continuance of the\nbelief in witchcraft, I would give the accompanying cuttings from the\n_West Briton_ newspaper of a very recent date:\u2014\n\n GROSS SUPERSTITION.\n\n \u201cDuring the week ending Sunday last, a \u2018wise man\u2019 from Illogan\n has been engaged with about half-a-dozen witchcraft cases, one\n a young tradesman, and another a sea-captain. It appears that\n the \u2018wise man\u2019 was in the first place visited at his home by\n these deluded people at different times, and he declared the\n whole of them to be spell-bound. In one case he said that if\n the person had not come so soon, in about a fortnight he would\n have been in the asylum; another would have had his leg broken;\n and in every case something very direful would have happened.\n Numerous incantations have been performed. In the case of a\n captain of a vessel, a visit was paid to the sea-side, and\n while the \u2018wise man\u2019 uttered some unintelligible gibberish,\n the captain had to throw a stone into the sea. So heavy was\n the spell under which he laboured, and which immediately fell\n upon the \u2018wise man,\u2019 that the latter pretended that he could\n scarcely walk back to Hayle. The most abominable part of the\n incantations is performed during the hours of midnight, and\n for that purpose the wretch sleeps with his victims, and for\n five nights following he had five different bed-fellows.\n Having no doubt reaped a pretty good harvest during the week,\n he returned to his home on Monday; but such was the pretended\n effect produced by the different spells and witchcraft that\n fell upon him from his many dupes, that two of the young men\n who had been under his charge were obliged to obtain a horse\n and cart and carry him to the Hayle station. One of the men,\n having had \u2018two spells\u2019 resting on him, the \u2018wise man\u2019 was\n obliged to sleep with him on Saturday and Sunday nights, having\n spent the whole of the Sunday in his diabolical work. It is\n time that the police, or some other higher authorities, should\n take the matter up, as the person alluded to is well known, and\n frequently visited by the ignorant and superstitious.\u201d\n\n THE CASE OF GROSS SUPERSTITION AT HAYLE.\n\n \u201cIn the _West Briton_ of the 27th ult. we gave some particulars\n of several cases of disgraceful fraud and delusion which had\n been practised by a pretended \u2018wise man\u2019 from Illogan, and\n of gross superstition and gullibility on the part of his\n dupes. A correspondent has furnished us with the following\n particulars relative to the antecedents of the pretended\n conjurer. He states that James Thomas, the conjurer from the\n parish of Illogan, married some time since the late celebrated\n Tammy Blee, of Redruth, who afterwards removed to Helston and\n carried on as a fortune-teller, but parted from her husband,\n James Thomas, on account of a warrant for his apprehension\n having been issued against him by the magistrates of St Ives,\n for attempting to take a spell from Mrs Paynter, through her\n husband, William Paynter, who stated before the magistrates\n that he wanted to commit a disgraceful offence. Thomas then\n absconded, and was absent from the west of Cornwall for upwards\n of two years. His wife then stated that the virtue was in\n her and not in him; that she was of the real \u2018Pellar\u2019 blood;\n and that he could tell nothing but through her. His greatest\n dupes have been at St Just and Hayle, and other parts of the\n west of Cornwall. He has been in the habit of receiving money\n annually for keeping witchcraft from vessels sailing out of\n Hayle. He slept with several of his dupes recently; and about\n a fortnight since he stated that he must sleep with certain\n young men at Copperhouse, Hayle, in order to protect them\n from something that was hanging over them, one of them being\n a mason and another a miner, the two latter lately from St\n Just. He said himself this week at Truro that he had cured a\n young man of St Erth, and was going on Saturday again to take\n a spell from the father, a tin smelter. He has caused a great\n disturbance amongst the neighbours, by charging some with\n having bewitched others. He is a drunken, disgraceful, beastly\n fellow, and ought to be sent to the treadmill. One of the young\n men is now thoroughly ashamed of himself to think he has been\n duped so by this scoundrel. We have purposely withheld the\n names of a number of Thomas\u2019s egregious dupes, with which our\n correspondent has furnished us, believing that the badgering\n which they have doubtless received from their friends has\n proved a sufficient punishment to them, and that their eyes are\n now thoroughly opened to the gross and disgraceful imposture\n that has been practised upon them.\u201d\n\nThe following is from the _Western Morning News_:\u2014\n\n CALLING A WOMAN A WITCH.\n\n \u201cAt the Liskeard police court, on Monday, Harriet King appeared\n before the sitting magistrates charged with an assault on\n Elizabeth Wellington. The complainant had called the mother of\n defendant a witch, and said she had ill-wished a person, and\n the ill wish fell on the cat, and the cat died. This annoyed\n the daughter, who retaliated by bad words and blows. The\n magistrates expressed surprise at the cause of the assault,\n but as that had been proved, they fined defendant 1s. and the\n costs, \u00a31 in all.\u201d\n\n\nILL-WISHING.\n\nI give the following notices as I receive them:\u2014\u201cI caant altogether\nexackly bleve in wiches at al,\u201d said a good dame to us; \u201cbut this I can\ntell ee, our John\u2019s wife quarrelled once with her next door neighbor\u2019s\nwife, and when John come home, like a husband always should, he took up\nfor his wife, \u2018northin but nat\u2019r\u2019l chiel was a.\u2019 Well, the woman took a\nnif, and for a long time never spoke to our John; at laast, after a bit,\nshe used to speak to un, and like as if a was all over, and she used to\nspeak quite sochebl\u2019 like. Well, John alleas was very well when he used\nto meet her, but as soon as ever he got underground, he was tooken ill to\nwonce; when a dedn\u2019t meet her, a was well enuf. Well, John was advised to\ngo to the \u2018Peller,\u2019 and off he went to Helstun sure nuf, and the \u2018Peller\u2019\ntowld un to come so many times in three months, and do something\nanorther, and towld un who a was that hoverlooked un, and a was that vere\nwoman. Well, the \u2018Peller\u2019 towld John that if a dedn\u2019t do it, a would very\nlikely die sudden. Our John, dear fellow, came home, and got unbelieving,\nand dedn\u2019t do as a was towld. Wat was the konsikense? Why, in less than\nthree months a was a dead man. Not as I believe the woman\u2019s a witch\u2014no,\nnot I; but she had a evil mind, and what\u2019s so bad as a evil mind?\u201d\n\n\u201cI used to have a woman meeting me,\u201d said a fisherman, \u201cwhen I went\na-fishing; and she used to wish me \u2018a good catch\u2019 every time she seed me,\nand I was always sure to have no luck whenever I met her; luck used to be\ngood enough other times. Well, I went to the \u2018Peller,\u2019 and done what he\ntold me I done, and the woman came and begged my pardon, and my luck was\ngood enough after that.\u201d To what purpose he had been lucky I could not\ndivine, for he was miserably clad, and I learned that his family were,\nlike himself, miserable and degraded.\n\nIn a certain cordwainer\u2019s workshop, which we could name, the following\nimportant information was afforded by a lady customer. The worthy\ntradesman was bewailing the loss of a good-sized pig that had sickened,\nand being afraid it would die, he had drowned it, to make its death\neasier:\u2014\u201cIf thee\u2019st only towld me afore, tha peg wud a bean wel enuf in\na week, I knaw. That peg wus begruged thee, thas the way a wudn\u2019 thrive.\nI\u2019ll tel ee wat mi faathur dun wonse. He wont hof to pausans[41] an\u2019\nbot a bra purty letle peg, an\u2019 as a wus cumin home wed\u2019en, a womun seed\nun, an\u2019 axed faathur to sell un to hur fur five shelins fur his bargin.\nShaan\u2019t sell un, saze faathur. Mite sa wel, saze she, an\u2019 off she went.\nFaathur tendud un an\u2019 tended un, an\u2019 a wudn\u2019 grough a mossel. Wy? A was\nbegruged, thas wot a was. Wel, faathur wen\u2019 off, an\u2019 he wos towld to go\nhom an fill a botel with waater, an\u2019 bere un in the cawl. Faathur dun so,\nan\u2019 a wuden long afore the wumun caame to faathur an\u2019 axed un wat had a\ndun by hur, for she suffered agonies; an\u2019 if heed only _forgive_ hur,\nshe\u2019d nevur do so nevur no mure. So faathur went to the cawl hus, an\u2019\nbrok the botel. She was at once relieved, an\u2019 the peg got wel enuf aftur.\nI can tel ee, ef thee\u2019s honle dun that, a wud ben wel enuf, if a wusn\u2019d\npisind.\u201d\n\n\u201cWell,\u201d said one of the company, \u201cI believe I was ill-wished once. I had\na great beautiful cage, full of pretty canaries. I hung them out one\nSunday morning, and a woman came along and asked me to let her have one\nof my birds. \u2018Yes,\u2019 said I, \u2018for half-a-crown.\u2019 She said she shouldn\u2019t\nbuy none. I told her I would not give her one, and off she went. That day\nweek I had not a bird left; everybody said they was bethought me, and I\nsuppose they were; but this I do know, I lost all my canaries.\u201d\n\nCarne, in his \u201cLegend of Pacorra,\u201d well expresses the belief in the power\nof ill wishes:\u2014\u201cThriven!\u201d said the woman, with a bitter laugh; \u201cnot\nif my curse could avail, should they thrive! and it has availed,\u201d she\ncontinued, in a lower tone. \u201cYou know the wasting illness that\u2019s fallen\non all that cruel faggot, Dame Tredray\u2019s children, that said they ought\nto thraw me from the head of Tol-y-pedden, and that I should neither be\nbroken nor drowned; and the hard squire of Pendine, that would ha\u2019 had me\nburned in the great bonfire upon the bicking,[42] because King Harry had\na son born,\u2014has he ever left his bed since, or will he ever again, ken\nye?\u201d\n\n\nTHE \u201cPELLER.\u201d\n\nA man who has resided at several places on the south coast was known by\nthis name. He is said to be in possession of no end of charms, and to\npossess powers, of no common order, over this and the other world. \u201cHe is\nable,\u201d writes a friend, \u201cto put ghosts, hobgoblins, and, I believe, even\nSatan himself, to rest. I have known farmers, well informed in many other\nmatters, and members of religious bodies, go to the \u2018Peller\u2019 to have the\n\u2018spirits that possessed the calves\u2019 driven out; for they, the calves,\n\u2018were so wild, they tore down all the wooden fences and gates, and must\nbe possessed with the devil.\u2019\n\n\u201cThe \u2018Peller\u2019 always performs a cure; but as the evil spirits must go\nsomewhere, and as it is always to be feared that they may enter into\nother calves or pigs, or, it may be, even possess the bodies of their\nowners themselves, the \u2018Peller\u2019 makes it imperative that a stone wall\nshall be built around the calves, to confine them for three times\nseven days, or until the next moon is as old as the present one. This\nprecaution always results in taming the devils and the calves, and\nconsequently in curing them\u2014the \u2018Peller\u2019 usually sending the spirits to\nsome very remote region, and chaining them down under granite rocks.\u201d\n\nAn old woman had long suffered from debility; but she and her friends\nwere satisfied that she had been ill-wished. So she went to the \u201cPeller.\u201d\nHe told her to buy a bullock\u2019s heart, and get a packet of pound pins. She\nwas to stick the heart as full of pins as she could, and \u201cthe body that\nill-wished her felt every pin run into the bullock\u2019s heart same as if\nthey had been run into her.\u201d The spell was taken off, and the old woman\ngrew strong.\n\nAn old man living on Lady Downs had a lot of money stolen from his house.\nHe, too, went to the \u201cPeller.\u201d In this case the magician performed the\nspells, and the man was told the money would be returned. After a few\ndays, it was so; the money, during the night, was tied to the handle of\nthe door, and found there by the owner in the morning.\n\n\nBEWITCHED CATTLE.\n\nA farmer, who possessed broad acres, and who was in many respects a\nsensible man, was greatly annoyed to find that his cattle became diseased\nin the spring. Nothing could satisfy him but that they were bewitched,\nand he was resolved to find out the person who had cast the evil eye on\nhis oxen. According to an anciently-prescribed rule, the farmer took one\nof his bullocks and bled it to death, catching all the blood on bundles\nof straw. The bloody straw was then piled into a heap, and set on fire.\nBurning with a vast quantity of smoke, the farmer expected to see the\nwitch, either in reality or in shadow, amidst the smoke.\n\nIn this particular case he was to some extent gratified. An old woman who\nlived in the adjoining village noticing the fire and smoke,\u2014with all a\nwoman\u2019s curiosity,\u2014went to Farmer \u2014\u2014\u2019s field to see what was going on.\nShe was instantly pounced on by this superstitious man, and he would\nno doubt have seriously ill-treated her, had not the poor, and now\nterrified, old soul, who roused her neighbours by her cries, been rescued\nby them. Every person knew this poor woman to be a most inoffensive\nand good creature, and consequently the farmer was only laughed at for\nsacrificing thus foolishly one of his oxen.\n\nAnother farmer living in one of the western parishes was constantly\nlosing his cattle in the spring. Many persons said this was because they\nwere nearly starved during the winter, but he insisted upon it that he\nwas ill-wished, and that a blight was upon him.\n\nAt length, to break the spell, and discover the witch, he betook himself\nto a conjuror (white witch) who lived near the Lizard Point. This learned\nperson, of whom several other facts are told in these pages, told the\nfarmer to bleed the next animal when taken ill, and to receive the blood\nupon straw, being careful not to lose any of it. Then the straw and blood\nwere to be burnt, and whilst the blood was burning he would be certain of\nseeing the witch pass through the smoke.\n\nA young steer fell ill first; it was bled as ordered, the blood caught\nupon the straw, and both carefully burnt. While this was going on, female\ncuriosity induced a poor weak old woman to go into the field and see what\nwas going on. She was well known to all, and as guiltless as a child of\nill-wishing any body, but she was seen through the smoke darted upon by\nthe farmer, and cruelly ill-treated.\n\n\nHOW TO BECOME A WITCH.\n\nTouch a Logan stone nine times at midnight, and any woman will become\na witch. A more certain plan is said to be\u2014To get on the Giant\u2019s Rock\nat Zennor Church-Town nine times without shaking it. Seeing that this\nrock was at one time a very sensitive Logan stone, the task was somewhat\ndifficult.\n\n\nCORNISH SORCERERS.\n\nThe powers of the sorcerer appear to have been passed on from father to\nson through a long succession of generations. There are many families\u2014the\ndescendants from the ancient Cornish people\u2014who are even yet supposed\nto possess remarkable powers of one kind or another. Several families,\nwhich have become extinct, are more especially reputed by tradition to\nhave had dealings with the bad spirits, and many of them to have made\ncompacts with the Evil One himself. Amongst the most curious of the\nstories once told,\u2014I believe they are nearly all forgotten,\u2014are those\nconnected with Pengerswick Castle. A small tower alone remains to note\nthe site of a once famous fortified place. This castle was said to have\nbeen occupied, in the time of Henry VIII., by a man who had committed\nsome great crime; but long previous to that period the place was famous\nfor its wickedness.[43]\n\n\nHOW PENGERSWICK BECAME A SORCERER.\n\nThe first Pengerswick, by whom the castle, which still bears his name,\nwas built, was a proud man, and desired to ally himself with some of the\nbest families of Cornwall. He wished his son to wed a lady who was very\nmuch older than himself, who is said to have been connected with the\nGodolphin family. This elderly maiden had a violent desire either for the\nyoung man or the castle\u2014it is not very clear which. The young Pengerswick\ngave her no return for the manifestations of love which she lavished upon\nhim. Eventually, finding all her attempts to win the young man\u2019s love\nwere abortive, and that all the love potions brewed for her by the Witch\nof Fraddam were of no avail, she married the old lord\u2014mainly, it is said,\nto be revenged on the son.\n\nThe witch had a niece who, though poor, possessed considerable beauty;\nshe was called Bitha. This young girl was frequently employed by her\naunt and the lady of Godolphin to aid them in their spells on the young\nPengerswick, and, as a natural consequence, she fell desperately in love\nwith him herself. Bitha ingratiated herself with the lady of Pengerswick,\nnow the stepmother of the young man, and was selected as her maid. This\ngave her many opportunities of seeing and speaking to young Pengerswick,\nand her passion increased. The old stepdame was still passionately fond\nof the young man, and never let a chance escape her which she thought\nlikely to lead to the excitement of passion in his heart towards her. In\nall her attempts she failed. Her love was turned to hate; and having seen\nher stepson in company with Bitha, this hate was quickened by the more\nviolent jealousy. Every means which her wicked mind could devise were\nemployed to destroy the young man. Bitha had learned from her aunt, the\nWitch of Fraddam, much of her art, and she devoted herself to counteract\nthe spells of her mistress.\n\nThe stepmother, failing to accomplish her ends, resolved to ruin young\nPengerswick with his father. She persuaded the old man that his son\nreally entertained a violent passion for her, and that she was compelled\nto confine herself to her tower in fear. The aged woman prevailed on Lord\nPengerswick to hire a gang of outlandish sailors to carry his son away\nand sell him for a slave, giving him to believe that she should herself\nin a short time present him with an heir.\n\nThe young Pengerswick escaped all their plots, and at his own good time\nhe disappeared from the castle, and for a long period was never heard of.\n\nThe mistress and maid plotted and counter-plotted to secure the old\nPengerswick\u2019s wealth; and when he was on his deathbed, Bitha informed him\nof the vile practices of his wife, and consoled him with the information\nthat he was dying from the effects of poison given him by her.\n\nThe young lord, after long years, returned from some Eastern lands with\na princess for his wife, learned in all the magic sciences of those\nenchanted lands. He found his stepmother shut up in her chamber, with her\nskin covered with scales like a serpent, from the effects of the poisons\nwhich she had so often been distilling for the old lord and his son. She\nrefused to be seen, and eventually cast herself into the sea, to the\nrelief of all parties.\n\nBitha fared not much better. She lived on the Downs in St Hilary; and\nfrom the poisonous fumes she had inhaled, and from her dealings with the\ndevil, her skin became of the colour of that of _a toad_.\n\n\nTHE LORD OF PENGERSWICK AN ENCHANTER.\n\nThe Lord of Pengerswick came from some Eastern clime, bringing with him a\nforeign lady of great beauty. She was considered by all an \u201coutlandish\u201d\nwoman; and by many declared to be a \u201cSaracen.\u201d[44] No one, beyond the\nselected servants, was ever allowed within the walls of Pengerswick\nCastle; and they, it was said, were bound by magic spells. No one dared\ntell of anything transacted within the walls; consequently all was\nconjecture amongst the neighbouring peasantry, miners, and fishermen.\nCertain it was, they said, that Pengerswick would shut himself up for\ndays together in his chamber, burning strange things, which sent their\nstrong odours,\u2014not only to every part of the castle,\u2014but for miles\naround the country. Often at night, and especially in stormy weather,\nPengerswick was heard for hours together calling up the spirits, by\nreading from his books in some unknown tongue. On those occasions his\nvoice would roll through the halls louder than the surging waves which\nbeat against the neighbouring rocks, the spirits replying like the roar\nof thunder. Then would all the servants rush in fright from the building,\nand remain crowded together, even in the most tempestuous night, in one\nof the open courts. Fearful, indeed, would be the strife between the\nman and the demons; and it sometimes happened that the spirits were too\npowerful for the enchanter. He was, however, constantly and carefully\nwatched by his wife; and whenever the strife became too serious, her harp\nwas heard making the softest, the sweetest music. At this the spirits\nfled; and they were heard passing through the air towards the Land\u2019s-End,\nmoaning like the soughing of a departing storm. The lights would then\nbe extinguished in the enchanter\u2019s tower, and all would be peace. The\nservants would return to their apartments with a feeling of perfect\nconfidence. They feared their master, but their mistress inspired them\nwith love. Lady Pengerswick was never seen beyond the grounds surrounding\nthe castle. She sat all day in lonely state and pride in her tower, the\nlattice-window of her apartment being high on the seaward side. Her voice\naccompanying the music of her harp was rarely heard, but when she warbled\nthe soft love strains of her Eastern land. Often at early dawn the very\nfishes of the neighbouring bay would raise their heads above the surface\nof the waters, enchanted by the music and the voice; and it is said that\nthe mermaids from the Lizard, and many of the strange spirits of the\nwaters, would come near to Pengerswick cove, drawn by the same influence.\nOn moonlight nights the air has often seemed to be full of sound, and\nyet the lady\u2019s voice was seldom louder than that of a warbling bird. On\nthese occasions, men have seen thousands of spirits gliding up and down\nthe moonbeams, and floating idly on the silvered waves, listening to, and\nsometimes softly echoing, the words which Lady Pengerswick sang. Long did\nthis strange pair inhabit this lonely castle; and although the Lord of\nPengerswick frequently rode abroad on a most magnificent horse\u2014which had\nthe reputation of being of Satanic origin, it was at once so docile to\nits master and so wild to any other person,\u2014yet he made no acquaintance\nwith any of the neighbouring gentry. He was feared by all, and yet they\nrespected him for many of the good deeds performed by him. He completely\nenthralled the Giants of the Mount; and before he disappeared from\nCornwall, they died, owing, it was said, to grief and want of food.\n\nWhere the Lord of Pengerswick came from, no one knew; he, with his lady,\nwith two attendants, who never spoke in any but an Eastern tongue, which\nwas understood by none around them, made their appearance one winter\u2019s\nday, mounted on beautiful horses, evidently from Arabia or some distant\nland.\n\nThey soon\u2014having gold in abundance\u2014got possession of a cottage; and in a\nmarvellously short time the castle, which yet bears his name, was rebuilt\nby this lord. Many affirm that the lord by the force of his enchantments,\nand the lady by the spell of her voice, compelled the spirits of the\nearth and air to work for them; and that three nights were sufficient to\nrear an enormous pile, of which but one tower now remains.\n\nTheir coming was sudden and mysterious; their going was still more so.\nYears had rolled on, and the people around were familiarised with those\nstrange neighbours, from whom also they derived large profits, since they\npaid whatsoever price was demanded for any article which they required.\nOne day a stranger was seen in Market-Jew, whose face was bronzed by long\nexposure to an Eastern sun. No one knew him; and he eluded the anxious\ninquiries of the numerous gossips, who were especially anxious to learn\nsomething of this man, who, it was surmised by every one, must have\nsome connexion with Pengerswick or his lady; yet no one could assign\nany reason for such a supposition. Week after week passed away, and the\nstranger remained in the town, giving no sign. Wonder was on every old\nwoman\u2019s lips, and expressed in every old man\u2019s eyes; but they had to\nwonder on. One thing, it was said, had been noticed; and this seemed to\nconfirm the suspicions of the people. The stranger wandered out on dark\nnights\u2014spent them, it was thought, on the sea-shore; and some fishermen\nsaid they had seen him seated on the rock at the entrance of the valley\nof Pengerswick. It was thought that the lord kept more at home than\nusual, and of late no one had heard his incantation songs and sounds;\nneither had they heard the harp of the lady. A very tempestuous night,\nsingular for its gloom\u2014when even the ordinary light, which, on the\ndarkest night, is evident to the traveller in the open country, did not\nexist\u2014appears to have brought things to their climax. There was a sudden\nalarm in Market-Jew, a red glare in the eastern sky, and presently a\nburst of flames above the hill, and St Michael\u2019s Mount was illuminated in\na remarkable manner. Pengerswick Castle was on fire; the servants fled in\nterror; but neither the lord nor his lady could be found. From that day\nto the present they were lost to all.\n\nThe interior of the castle was entirely destroyed; not a vestige of\nfurniture, books, or anything belonging to the \u201cEnchanter\u201d could be\nfound. He and everything belonging to him had vanished; and, strange to\ntell, from that night the bronzed stranger was never again seen. The\ninhabitants of Market-Jew naturally crowded to the fire; and when all was\nover they returned to their homes, speculating on the strange occurrences\nof the night. Two of the oldest people always declared that, when the\nflames were at the highest, they saw two men and a lady floating in the\nmidst of the fire, and that they ascended from amidst the falling walls,\npassed through the air like lightning, and disappeared.\n\n\nTHE WITCH OF FRADDAM AND THE ENCHANTER OF PENGERSWICK.\n\nAgain and again had the Lord of Pengerswick reversed the spells of the\nWitch of Fraddam, who was reported to be the most powerful weird woman\nin the west country. She had been thwarted so many times by this \u201cwhite\nwitch,\u201d that she resolved to destroy him by some magic more potent than\nanything yet heard of. It is said that she betook herself to Kynance\nCove, and that there she raised the devil by her incantations, and that\nshe pledged her soul to him in return for the aid he promised. The\nenchanter\u2019s famous mare was to be seduced to drink from a tub of poisoned\nwater placed by the roadside, the effect of which was to render him in\nthe highest degree restive, and cause him to fling his rider. The wounded\nLord of Pengerswick was, in his agony, to be drenched, by the old witch,\nwith some hell-broth, brewed in the blackest night, under the most evil\naspects of the stars; by this he would be in her power for ever, and she\nmight torment him as she pleased. The devil felt certain of securing the\nsoul of the Witch of Fraddam, but he was less certain of securing that\nof the enchanter. They say, indeed, that the sorcery which Pengerswick\nlearned in the East was so potent, that the devil feared him. However,\nas the proverb is, he held with the hounds and ran with the hare. The\nwitch collected with the utmost care all the deadly things she could\nobtain, with which to brew her famous drink. In the darkest night, in\nthe midst of the wildest storms, amidst the flashings of lightnings and\nthe bellowings of the thunder, the witch was seen riding on her black\nram-cat over the moors and mountains in search of her poisons. At length\nall was complete\u2014the horse drink was boiled, the hell-broth was brewed.\nIt was in March, about the time of the equinox; the night was dark, and\nthe King of Storms was abroad. The witch planted her tub of drink in a\ndark lane, through which she knew the Lord of Pengerswick must pass, and\nnear to it she sat, croning over her crock of broth. The witch-woman had\nnot long to wait; amidst the hurrying winds was heard the heavy tramp\nof the enchanter\u2019s mare, and soon she perceived the outline of man and\nhorse defined sharply against the line of lurid light which stretched\nalong the western horizon. On they came; the witch was scarcely able to\ncontain herself\u2014her joy and her fears, struggling one with the other,\nalmost overpowered her. On came the horse and his rider: they neared the\ntub of drink; the mare snorted loudly, and her eyes flashed fire as she\nlooked at the black tub by the roadside. Pengerswick bent him over the\nhorse\u2019s neck and whispered into her ear; she turns round, and, flinging\nout her heels, with one kick she scattered all to the wild winds. The tub\nflew before the blow; it rushed against the crock, which it overturned,\nand striking against the legs of the old Witch of Fraddam, she fell\nalong with the tub, which assumed the shape of a coffin. Her terror was\nextreme: she who thought to have unhorsed the conjuror, found herself in\na carriage for which she did not bargain. The enchanter raised his voice\nand gave utterance to some wild words in an unknown tongue, at which\neven his terrible mare trembled. A whirlwind arose, and the devil was\nin the midst of it. He took the coffin in which lay the terrified witch\nhigh into the air, and the crock followed them. The derisive laughter\nof Pengerswick, and the savage neighing of the horse, were heard above\nthe roar of the winds. At length, with a satisfied tone, he exclaimed,\n\u201cShe is settled till the day of doom,\u201d gave the mare the spurs, and rode\nrapidly home.\n\nThe Witch of Fraddam still floats up and down, over the seas, around the\ncoast, in her coffin, followed by the crock, which seems like a punt in\nattendance on a jolly-boat. She still works mischief, stirring up the sea\nwith her ladle and broom till the waves swell into mountains, which heave\noff from their crests, so much mist and foam, that these wild wanderers\nof the winds can scarcely be seen through the mist. Woe to the mariner\nwho sees the witch!\n\nThe Lord of Pengerswick alone had power over her. He had but to stand on\nhis tower, and blow three blasts on his trumpet, to summon her to the\nshore, and compel her to peace.\n\n\nTREWA, OR TREWE; THE HOME OF WITCHES.\n\nAs we walk from Nancledrea Bottoms towards Zennor we pass Trewa,\n(pronounced _Truee_,) which is said to have been the place where at\nmidsummer all the witches of the west met. Here are the remains of very\nancient tin stream works, and these, I was informed, \u201cwere the remains\nof bals which had been worked before the deluge; there was nothing so\nold anywhere else in Cornwall.\u201d Around us, on the hillsides and up the\nbottoms, huge boulders of granite are most fantastically scattered. All\nthese rocks sprang from the ground at the call of the giants. At Embla\nGreen we still see the ruins of the Giant\u2019s House, but all we know of\nthis Titan is that he was the king. On one side we have the \u201cGiant\u2019s\nWell,\u201d and not far off the \u201cDruid\u2019s Well,\u201d and a little before us is\nZennor coit or cromlech.\n\nFrom this point the scenery is of the wildest description. The granite\ncairns are spread around in every direction, and many of those masses\nare so strangely fashioned by the atmospheric influences ever acting on\nthem, that fancy can readily fashion them into tombs and temples. Rock\nbasins abound on these hills, and of ruined cromlechs there are many.\nWhatever the local historians may say, local traditions assure us that on\nMidsummer Eve all the witches in Penwith gathered here, and that they lit\nfires on every cromlech, and in every rock basin, until the hills were\nalive with flame, and renewed their vows to the evil ones from whom they\nderived their power. Hence, to this day this place is called Burn Downs.\nAmidst these rock masses there was one pile remarkable amidst all the\nothers for its size, and\u2014being formed of cubical masses\u2014for its square\ncharacter. This was known as the Witches\u2019 Rock, and here it was said\nthey assembled at midnight to carry on their wicked deeds. This rock has\nbeen removed, and with it the witches have died; the last real witch in\nZennor having passed away, as I have been told, about thirty years since,\nand with her, some say, the fairies fled. I have, however, many reasons\nfor believing that our little friends have still a few haunts in this\nlocality. There is but one reason why we should regret the disappearance\nof the Witches\u2019 Rock. _Any one touching this rock nine times at midnight\nwas insured against bad luck._\n\n\nKENIDZHEK WITCH.\n\nOn the tract called the \u201cGump,\u201d near Kenidzhek, is a beautiful well of\nclear water, not far from which was a miner\u2019s cot, in which dwelt two\nminers with their sister. They told her never to go to the well after\ndaylight; they would fetch the water for her. However, on one Saturday\nnight she had forgotten to get in a supply for the morrow, so she went\noff to the well. Passing by a gap in a broken-down hedge (called a\n_gurgo_) near the well, she saw an old woman sitting down, wrapped in\na red shawl; she asked her what she did there at that time of night,\nbut received no reply; she thought this rather strange, but plunged\nher pitcher in the well; when she drew it up, though a perfectly sound\nvessel, it contained no water; she tried again and again, and, though she\nsaw the water rushing in at the mouth of the pitcher, it was sure to be\nempty when lifted out. She then became rather frightened; spoke again to\nthe old woman, but receiving no answer, hastened away, and came in great\nalarm to her brothers. They told her that it was on account of this old\nwoman they did not wish her to go to the well at night. What she saw was\nthe ghost of old Moll, a witch who had been a great terror to the people\nin her lifetime, and had laid many fearful spells on them. They said they\nsaw her sitting in the gap by the wall every night when going to bed.\n\n\nTHE WITCHES OF THE LOGAN STONE.\n\nWho that has travelled into Cornwall but has visited the Logan Stone?\nNumerous Logan rocks exist on the granite hills of the county, but\nthat remarkable mass which is poised on the cubical masses forming its\nCyclopean support, at Trereen, is beyond all others \u201cThe Logan Stone.\u201d\n\nA more sublime spot could not have been chosen by the Bardic priesthood\nfor any ordeal connected with their worship; and even admitting that\nnature may have disposed the huge mass to wear away, so as to rest\ndelicately poised on a pivot, it is highly probable that the wild worship\nof the untrained tribes, who had passed to those islands from the shores\nof the Mediterranean Sea, may have led them to believe that some\nsuperhuman power belonged to such a strangely-balanced mass of rock.\n\nNothing can be more certain than that through all time, passing on from\nfather to son, there has been a wild reverence of this mass of rock; and\nlong after the days when the Druid ceased to be, there is every reason\nfor believing that the Christian priests, if they did not encourage, did\nnot forbid, the use of this and similar rocks to be used as places of\nordeal by the uneducated and superstitious people around.\n\nHence the mass of rock on which is poised the Logan Stone has ever been\nconnected with the supernatural. To the south of the Logan Rock is a high\npeak of granite, towering above the other rocks; this is known as the\nCastle Peak.\n\nNo one can say for how long a period, but most certainly for ages, this\npeak has been the midnight rendezvous for witches. Many a man, and woman\ntoo, now sleeping quietly in the churchyard of St Levan, would, had they\nthe power, attest to having seen the witches flying into the Castle Peak\non moonlight nights, mounted on the stems of the ragwort, (_Sen\u00e9cio\nJacob\u00e6a Linn_,) and bringing with them the things necessary to make their\ncharms potent and strong.\n\nThis place was long noted as the gathering-place of the army of witches\nwho took their departure for Wales, where they would luxuriate at the\nmost favoured seasons of the year upon the milk of the Welshmen\u2019s cows.\nFrom this peak many a struggling ship has been watched by a malignant\ncrone, while she has been brewing the tempest to destroy it; and many a\nrejoicing chorus has been echoed, in horror, by the cliffs around, when\nthe witches have been croaking their miserable delight over the perishing\ncrews, as they have watched man, woman, and child drowning, whom they\nwere presently to rob of the treasures they were bringing home from other\nlands.\n\nUpon the rocks behind the Logan Rock it would appear that every kind of\nmischief which can befall man or beast was once brewed by the St Levan\nwitches.\n\n\nMADGY FIGGY\u2019S CHAIR.\n\nAll those who have visited the fine piles of rocks in the vicinity of\nthe so-called \u201cSt Levan,\u201d Land\u2019s-End, called Tol-pedden-Penwith,\u2014and\ninfinitely finer than anything immediately surrounding the most western\npromontory itself,\u2014cannot have failed to notice the arrangement of\ncubical masses of granite piled one upon the other, known as the _Chair\nLadder_.\n\nThis remarkable pile presents to the beat of the Atlantic waves a sheer\nface of cliff of very considerable height, standing up like a huge\nbasaltic column, or a pillar built by the Titans, the horizontal joints\nrepresenting so many steps in the so-called \u201cLadder.\u201d On the top is\nplaced a stone of somewhat remarkable shape, which is by no great effort\nof the imagination converted into a chair. There it was that Madgy Figgy,\none of the most celebrated of the St Levan and Burian witches, was in\nthe habit of seating herself when she desired to call up to her aid the\nspirits of the storm. Often has she been seen swinging herself to and\nfro on this dizzy height when a storm has been coming home upon the\nshores, and richly-laden vessels have been struggling with the winds.\nFrom this spot she poured forth her imprecations on man and beast, and\nnone whom she had offended could escape those withering spells; and from\nthis \u201cchair,\u201d which will ever bear her name, Madgy Figgy would always\ntake her flight. Often, starting like some huge bird, mounted on a stem\nof ragwort, Figgy has headed a band of inferior witches, and gone off\nrejoicing in their iniquities to Wales or Spain.\n\nThis old hag lived in a cottage not far from Raftra, and she and all\nher gang, which appears to have been a pretty numerous crew, were\nnotorious wreckers. On one occasion, Madgy from her seat of storms lured\na Portuguese Indiaman into Perloe Cove, and drowned all the passengers.\nAs they were washed on shore, the bodies were stripped of everything\nvaluable, and buried by Figgy and her husband in the green hollow, which\nmay yet be seen, just above Perloe Cove, marking the graves with a rough\nstone placed at the head of the corpse. The spoils on this occasion must\nhave been large, for all the women were supplied for years with rich\ndresses, and costly jewels were seen decking the red arms of the girls\nwho laboured in the fields. For a long time gems and gold continued to be\nfound on the sands. Howbeit, amongst the bodies thrown ashore was one of\na lady richly dressed, with chains of gold about her. \u201cRich and rare were\nthe gems she wore,\u201d and not only so, but valuable treasure was fastened\naround her, she evidently hoping, if saved, to secure some of her\nproperty. This body, like all the others, was stripped; but Figgy said\nthere was a mark on it which boded them evil, and she would not allow\nany of the gold or gems to be divided, as it would be sure to bring bad\nluck if it were separated. A dreadful quarrel ensued, and bloodshed was\nthreatened; but the diabolical old Figgy was more than a match for any of\nthe men, and the power of her impetuous will was superior to them all.\n\nEverything of value, therefore, belonging to this lady was gathered into\na heap, and placed in a chest in Madgy Figgy\u2019s hut. They buried the\nPortuguese lady the same evening; and after dark a light was seen to rise\nfrom the grave, pass along the cliffs, and seat itself in Madgy\u2019s chair\nat Tol-Pedden. Then, after some hours, it descended, passed back again,\nand, entering the cottage, rested upon the chest. This curious phenomenon\ncontinued for more than three months,\u2014nightly,\u2014much to the alarm of all\nbut Figgy, who said she knew all about it, and it would all be right in\ntime. One day a strange-looking and strangely-attired man arrived at\nthe cottage. Figgy\u2019s man (her husband) was at home alone. To him the\nstranger addressed himself by signs,\u2014he could not speak English, so he\ndoes not appear to have spoken at all,\u2014and expressed a wish to be led to\nthe graves. Away they went, but the foreigner did not appear to require\na guide. He at once selected the grave of the lady, and sitting down\nupon it, he gave vent to his pent-up sorrows. He sent Figgy\u2019s man away,\nand remained there till night, when the light arose from the grave more\nbrilliant than ever, and proceeded directly to the hut, resting as usual\non the chest, which was now covered up with old sails, and all kinds of\nfishermen\u2019s lumber.\n\nThe foreigner swept these things aside, and opened the chest. He selected\neverything belonging to the lady, refusing to take any of the other\nvaluables. He rewarded the wreckers with costly gifts, and left them\u2014no\none knowing from whence he came nor whither he went. Madgy Figgy was now\ntruly triumphant. \u201cOne witch knows another witch, dead or living,\u201d she\nwould say; \u201cand the African would have been the death of us if we hadn\u2019t\nkept the treasure, whereas now we have good gifts, and no gainsaying\n\u2019em.\u201d Some do say they have seen the light in Madgy Figgy\u2019s chair since\nthose times.\n\n\nOLD MADGE FIGGEY AND THE PIG.\n\nMadge Figgey once lived in St Leven, but she removed to Burian\nChurch-town. She had a neighbour, Tom Trenoweth, who had a very fine\nsow, and the old creature took it into her head to desire this sow. The\npig was worth a pound of any man\u2019s money, but Madge offered Tom five\nshillings for it.\n\n\u201cNo,\u201d says Tom, \u201cI shan\u2019t sell the sow to you, nor to anybody else. I am\ngoing to put her in the house, and feed her for myself against winter.\u201d\n\n\u201cWell,\u201d said old Madge, nodding her head, and shaking her finger at Tom,\n\u201cyou will wish you had.\u201d\n\nFrom that time the sow ceased to \u201cgoody\u201d (thrive.) The more corn the sow\nate, the leaner she became. Old Madge came again, \u201cWill ye sell her now,\nTom?\u201d\n\n\u201cNo! and be \u2014\u2014 to you,\u201d said Tom.\n\n\u201cArreah, Tom! you will wish you had, before another week is ended, I can\ntell ye.\u201d\n\nBy next week the sow was gone to skin and bone, yet eating all the time\nmeat enough for three.\n\nAt last Tom took the sow out of the house, and prepared to drive her to\nPenzance market, and sell her for what she would fetch.\n\nThe rope was put round her leg, but more for fashion\u2019s sake than anything\nelse. The poor pig could scarcely stand on her legs, consequently there\nwas little chance of her running away. Well, Tom and his pig were no\nsooner on the highroad than the sow set off like a greyhound, and never\nstopped, racing over hedges and ditches, until she reached Leah Lanes.\nTom kept hold of the rope till his arm was almost dragged from his body,\nand he was fairly \u201cout of breath.\u201d He dropped the rope, piggy went on\n\u201cas quiet as a lamb,\u201d but only the way which pleased her best. At last\nTom and the sow arrived at Tregenebris Downs. At the corner of the roads,\nwhere they divide,\u2014one going to Sancreed, and the other to Penzance,\u2014Tom\nagain laid hold of the rope, and said to himself, \u201cI\u2019ll surely get thee\nto Penzance yet.\u201d\n\nThe moment they came to the market-road, the sow made a bolt, jerked\nthe rope out of Tom\u2019s hand, and ran off at full speed, never stopping\nuntil she got in under Tregenebris Bridge. Now that bridge is more like\na long drain\u2014locally a bolt\u2014than anything else, and is smallest in the\nmiddle; so when the sow got half way in, she stuck fast; she couldn\u2019t\ngo forward\u2014she wouldn\u2019t come back. Tom fired all the stones he could\nfind,\u2014first at the pig\u2019s head, and then at her tail,\u2014and all he got for\nhis pains was a grunt. There he stopped, watching the sow till near\nsunset; he had eaten nothing since five in the morning, and was starving.\nHe saw no chance of getting the sow out, so he swore at her, and prepared\nto go home, when who should come by but old Madge Figgey, with her stick\nin one hand and basket in the other.\n\n\u201cWhy, Tom, is that you? What in the world are ye doing here at this time\no\u2019 day?\u201d\n\n\u201cWell,\u201d says Tom, \u201cI\u2019m cussed if I can tell; look under the bridge, if\nyou\u2019re a mind to know.\u201d\n\n\u201cWhy, I hear the sow grunting, I declare. What will ye sell her for now?\u201d\n\n\u201cIf you can get her out, take her,\u201d says Tom; \u201cbut hast anything to eat\nin your basket?\u201d\n\nMadge gave him a twopenny loaf.\n\n\u201cThank ye,\u201d says Tom. \u201cNow the devil take the both of ye!\u201d\n\n\u201cCheat! cheat! cheat!\u201d says Madge. Out came the sow, and followed her\nhome like a dog.\n\n\nMADAM NOY AND OLD JOAN.\n\nThey say that, a long time since, there lived an old witch down by Alsia\nMill, called Joan. Everybody feared to offend the old woman, and gave her\neverything she looked for, except Madam Noy, who lived in Pendrea.\n\nMadam Noy had some beautiful hens of a new sort, with \u201ccops\u201d on their\nheads.\n\nOne morning early, Joan comes up to Pendrea, so as to catch Madam Noy\ngoing out into the farmyard, with her basket of corn to feed the poultry,\nand to collect the eggs.\n\nJoan comes up nodding and curtsying every step. \u201cGood morrow to your\nhonour; how well you are looking, Madam Noy; and, oh, what beautiful\nhens. I\u2019ve got an old hen that I do want to set; will you sell me a dozen\nof eggs? Those with the \u2018cops\u2019 I\u2019d like to have best.\u201d\n\nMadam turned round half offended, and said, \u201cI have none to sell, neither\nwith the cops nor yet without the cops, whilst I have so many old\nclucking hens about, and hardly an egg to be found.\u201d\n\n\u201cYou surely wouldn\u2019t send me home empty as I came, madam dear?\u201d\n\n\u201cYou may go home the same way you came, for you aren\u2019t wanted here.\u201d\n\n\u201cNow,\u201d croaked Joan, hoarse with passion, \u201cas true as I tell you so, if\nyou don\u2019t sell me some eggs, you will wish your cakes dough.\u201d\n\nAs the old witch said this, she perched herself on the stile, shaking her\nfinger and \u201cnodling\u201d her head.\n\nMadam Noy was a bit of a virago herself, so she took up a stone and\nflung it at Joan; it hit her in the face, and made her jaws rattle.\n\nAs soon as she recovered, she spinned forth:\u2014\n\n \u201cMadam Noy, you ugly old bitch,\n You shall have the gout, the palsy, and itch;\n All the eggs your hens lay henceforth shall be addle;\n All your hens have the pip, and die with the straddle;\n And ere I with the mighty fine madam have done,\n Of her favourite \u2018coppies\u2019 she shan\u2019t possess one.\u201d\n\nFrom that day forward, madam was always afflicted. The doctor from\nPenzance could do little for her. The fowls\u2019 eggs were always bad; the\nhens died, and madam lost all her \u201ccoppies.\u201d This is the way it came\nabout\u2014in the place of cops the brains came out\u2014and all by the spells of\nold Joan.\n\nThis forms the subject of one of the old Cornish drolls, which ran in an\nirregular jingle, such as the above, and was half sung, half said by the\ndroll-teller.\n\n\nTHE WITCH OF TREVA.\n\nOnce on a time, long ago, there lived at Treva, a hamlet in Zennor, a\nwonderful old lady deeply skilled in necromancy. Her charms, spells, and\ndark incantations made her the terror of the neighbourhood. However,\nthis old lady failed to impress her husband with any belief in her\nsupernatural powers, nor did he fail to proclaim his unbelief aloud.\n\nOne day this sceptic came home to dinner and found, being exceedingly\nhungry, to his bitter disappointment, that not only was there no dinner\nto eat, but that there was no meat in the house. His rage was great,\nbut all he could get from his wife was, \u201cI couldn\u2019t get meat out of the\nstones, could I?\u201d It was in vain to give the reins to passion, the old\nwoman told him, and he must know \u201cthat hard words buttered no parsnips.\u201d\nWell, at length he resolved to put his wife\u2019s powers to the proof, and he\nquietly but determinedly told her that he would be the death of her if\nshe did not get him some dinner; but if in half an hour she gave him some\ngood cooked meat, he would believe all she had boasted of her power, and\nbe submissive to her for ever. St Ives, the nearest market-town, was five\nmiles off; but nothing doubting, the witch put on her bonnet and cloak,\nand started. Her husband watched her from their cottage door, down the\nhill, and at the bottom of the hill he saw his wife quietly place herself\non the ground and disappear. In her place a fine hare ran on at its full\nspeed.\n\nHe was not a little startled, but he waited, and within the half hour in\nwalked his wife with \u201cgood flesh and taties all ready for aiting.\u201d There\nwas no longer any doubt, and the poor husband lived in fear of the witch\nof Treva to the day of her death.\n\nThis event took place after a few years, and it is said the room was full\nof evil spirits, and that the old woman\u2019s skrieks were awful to hear.\nHowbeit, peace in the shape of pale-faced death came to her at last, and\nthen a black cloud rested over the house when all the heavens were clear\nand blue.\n\nShe was borne to the grave by six aged men, carried, as is the custom,\nunder hand. When they were about half way between the house and the\nchurch, a hare started from the roadside and leaped over the coffin.\nThe terrified bearers let the corpse fall to the ground, and ran away.\nAnother lot of men took up the coffin and proceeded. They had not gone\nfar when puss was suddenly seen seated on the coffin, and again the\ncoffin was abandoned. After long consultation, and being persuaded by\nthe parson to carry the old woman very quickly into the churchyard,\nwhile he walked before, six others made the attempt, and as the parson\nnever ceased to repeat the Lord\u2019s Prayer, all went on quietly. Arrived at\nthe church stile, they rested the corpse, the parson paused to commence\nthe ordinary burial service, and there stood the hare, which, as soon\nas the clergyman began \u201cI am the resurrection and the life,\u201d uttered a\ndiabolical howl, changed into a black, unshapen creature, and disappeared.\n\n\nHOW MR LENINE GAVE UP COURTING.\n\nMr Lenine had been, as was his wont, spending his evening hours with the\nlady of his love. He was a timid man, and always returned to Tregenebris\nearly. Beyond this, as the lady was alone, she deemed it prudent to let\nthe world know that Mr Lenine left her by daylight.\n\nOne evening, it was scarcely yet dark, and our lover was returning home\nthrough Leah Lanes. His horse started at an old woman, who had crept\nunder the hedge for shelter from a passing shower. As Mr Lenine saw a\nfigure moving in the shade he was terrified.\n\n\u201cTu-whit, tu-whoo, ho,\u201d sang an owl.\n\n\u201cIt\u2019s only me\u2014Mr Lenine of Tregenebris,\u201d said he, putting the spurs to\nhis horse.\n\nSomething followed him, fast as he might go, and he forced his horse up\nthe hill by Leah vean.\n\n\u201cTu-whit, tu-whoo, ho,\u201d sang the owl.\n\n\u201cIt\u2019s only me\u2014Aunt Betty Foss,\u201d screamed the old woman.\n\n\u201cTu-whit, tu-whoo, ho, ho,\u201d sang the owl again.\n\n\u201cDon\u2019t ye be afeard, Mr Lenine,\u201d shrieked Aunt Betty, almost out of\nbreath.\n\n\u201cTu-whit, tu-whoo, ho, ho, ho,\u201d also shrieked the owl.\n\n\u201cOh, it\u2019s only John Lenine of Tregenebris,\u201d stammered the frightened\nlover, who had, however, reached home.\n\nHe went no more a-courting. He was fully persuaded that either a\nhighwayman and his crew, or the devil and his imps, were upon him. He\ndied a bachelor, and the charming lady became a peevish old maid, and\ndied in solitude; all owing to the hooting owl.\n\nSome do say Betty Foss was a witch, and the owl her familiar.\n\n\nTHE WITCH AND THE TOAD.\n\nAn old woman called Alsey\u2014usually Aunt Alsey\u2014occupied a small cottage in\nAnthony, one of a row which belonged to a tradesman living in Dock\u2014as\nDevonport was then designated, to distinguish it from Plymouth. The old\nwoman possessed a very violent temper, and this, more than anything\nelse, fixed upon her the character of being a witch. Her landlord had\nfrequently sought his rent, and as frequently he received nothing but\nabuse. He had, on the special occasion to which our narrative refers,\ncrossed the Tamar and walked to Anthony, with the firm resolve of\nsecuring his rent, now long in arrear, and of turning the old termagant\nout of the cottage. A violent scene ensued, and the vicious old woman,\nmore than a match for a really kind-hearted and quiet man, remained the\nmistress of the situation. She seated herself in the door of her cottage\nand cursed her landlord\u2019s wife, \u201cthe child she was carrying,\u201d and all\nbelonging to him, with so devilish a spite that Mr \u2014\u2014 owned he was fairly\ndriven away in terror.\n\nOn returning home, he, of course, told his wife all the circumstances;\nand while they were discoursing on the subject,\u2014the whole story being\nattentively listened to by their daughter, then a young girl, who is my\ninformant,\u2014a woman came into the shop requiring some articles which they\nsold.\n\n\u201cSit still, father,\u201d said Mrs \u2014\u2014 to her husband; \u201cyou must be tired. I\nwill see to the shop.\u201d\n\nSo she went from the parlour into the shop, and, hearing the wants of her\ncustomer, proceeded to supply them; gossiping gaily, as was her wont, to\ninterest the buyer.\n\nMrs \u2014\u2014 was weighing one of the articles required, when something falling\nheavily from the ceiling of the shop, struck the beam out of her hand,\nand both\u2014the falling body and the scales\u2014came together with much noise on\nto the counter. At the same instant both women screamed;\u2014the shopkeeper\ncalling also \u201cFather! father!\u201d\u2014meaning her husband thereby\u2014with great\nenergy.\n\nMr \u2014\u2014 and his daughter were in the shop instantly, and there, on the\ncounter, they saw an enormous and most ugly toad sprawling amidst the\nchains of the scales. The first action of the man was to run back to the\nparlour, seize the tongs, and return to the shop. He grasped the swollen\ntoad with the tongs, the vicious creature spitting all the time, and,\nwithout a word, he went back and flung it behind the block of wood which\nwas burning in the grate. The object of terror being removed, the wife,\nwho was shortly to become the mother of another child, though usually a\nwoman who had great command over her feelings, fainted.\n\nThis circumstance demanding all their attention, the toad was forgotten.\nThe shock was a severe one; and although Mrs \u2014\u2014 was restored in a\nlittle time to her senses, she again and again became faint. Those fits\ncontinuing, her medical attendant, Dr \u2014\u2014, was sent for, and on his\narrival he ordered that his patient should be immediately placed in bed,\nand the husband was informed that he must be prepared for a premature\nbirth.\n\nThe anxiety occasioned by these circumstances, and the desire to afford\nevery relief to his wife, so fully occupied Mr \u2014\u2014, that for an hour\nor two he entirely forgot the cause of all this mischief; or, perhaps\nsatisfying himself that the toad was burnt to ashes, he had no curiosity\nto look after it. He was, however, suddenly summoned from the bedroom, in\nwhich he was with his wife, by his daughter calling to him, in a voice of\nterror,\u2014\n\n\u201cO father, the toad, the toad!\u201d\n\nMr \u2014\u2014 rushed down-stairs, and he then discovered that the toad, though\nseverely burnt, had escaped destruction. It must have crawled up over the\nlog of wood, and from it have fallen down amongst the ashes. There it was\nnow making useless struggles to escape, by climbing over the fender.\n\nThe tongs were again put in requisition, with the intention this time of\ncarrying the reptile out of the house. Before, however, he had time to do\nso, a man from Anthony came hastily into the shop with the information\nthat Aunt Alsey had fallen into the fire, as the people supposed, in\na fit, and that she was nearly burnt to death. This man had been sent\noff with two commissions\u2014one to fetch the doctor, and the other to\nbring Mr \u2014\u2014 with him, as much of the cottage had been injured by fire,\ncommunicated to it by the old woman\u2019s dress.\n\nIn as short a time as possible the parish surgeon and Mr \u2014\u2014 were at\nAnthony, and too truly they found the old woman most severely burnt\u2014so\nseriously, indeed, there was no chance that one so aged could rally from\nthe shock which her system must have received. However, a litter was\ncarefully prepared, the old woman was placed in it, and carried to the\nworkhouse. Every attention was given to her situation, but she never\nrecovered perfect consciousness, and during the night she died.\n\nThe toad, which we left inside the fender in front of a blazing fire,\nwas removed from a position so trying to any cold-blooded animal, by\nthe servant, and thrown, with a \u201chugh\u201d and a shudder, upon one of the\nflower-beds in the small garden behind the house.\n\nThere it lay the next morning dead, and when examined by Mr \u2014\u2014, it was\nfound that all the injuries sustained by the toad corresponded with those\nreceived by the poor old wretch, who had no doubt fallen a victim to\npassion.\n\nAs we have only to deal with the mysterious relation which existed\nbetween the witch and the toad, it is not necessary that we should attend\nfurther to the innocent victim of an old woman\u2019s vengeance, than to say\nthat eventually a babe was born\u2014that that babe grew to be a handsome\nman, was an officer in the navy, and having married, went to sea, and\nperished, leaving a widow with an unborn child to lament his loss.\nWhether this was a result of the witch\u2019s curse, those who are more deeply\nskilled in witchcraft than I am may perhaps tell.\n\n\nTHE SAILOR WIZARD.\n\nThis appears to have been, and it may still be, a very common\nsuperstition. I have lately received from Mr T. Q. Couch of Bodmin the\nstory of some sailors, who had reason to suspect that one of their body\nwas a wizard. This was eventually proved to have been the case, by\ncircumstances in every way resembling those of our old witch. There had\nbeen a quarrel, and revenge had been talked of. The sailors were all\ngrouped together in the forepart of the ship, except the suspected one,\nand a toad fell sprawling amongst them. One of the men flung the creature\ninto the fire in the caboose. It struggled for a moment in the fire, and\nthen by a convulsive effort flung itself out. Immediately the toad was\ncaught up by one of the men, and flung into the sea.\n\nIn the course of some little time the absent sailor made his appearance\ndripping wet. In a drunken frolic he had first fallen into the fire at\na low beer shop or \u201cKiddle-e-Wink,\u201d and subsequently he fell out of the\nboat into the sea.\n\n\n\n\nTHE MINERS.\n\n \u201cTo us our Queen, who in the central earth,\n Midst fiery lavas or basaltine seas,\n Deep-throned the illimitable waste enjoys,\n Enormous solitude, has given these\n Her subterraneous realms; bids us dwell here,\n In the abyss of darkness, and exert\n Immortal alchymy.\n\n \u201cEach devious cleft, each secret cell explore,\n And from its fissures draw the ductile ore.\u201d\n\n _The Mine: a Dramatic Poem_\u2014JOHN SARGENT.\n\n\n\n\nROMANCES OF THE MINERS.\n\n\nTRADITIONS OF TINNERS.\n\n \u201cAn ancient story I\u2019ll tell you anon,\n Which is older by far than the days of King John;\n But this you should know, that that red-robed sinner\n Robbed the Jew of the gold he had made as a tinner.\u201d\n\n _Old Cornish Song._\n\nThere is scarcely a spot in Cornwall where tin is at present found, that\nhas not been worked over by the \u201cold men,\u201d as the ancient miners are\nalways called.\n\nEvery valley has been \u201cstreamed\u201d\u2014that is, the deposits have been washed\nfor tin; over every hill where now a tin mine appears, there are\nevidences, many of them most extensive, of actual mining operations\nhaving been carried on to as great a depth as was possible in the days\nwhen the appliances of science were unknown.\n\nWherever the \u201cstreamer\u201d has been, upon whatever spot the old miner has\nworked, there we are told the \u201cFinician\u201d (_Ph\u0153nician_) has been, or the\nJew has mined.[45]\n\nThere is much confusion in these traditions. The Jew, and the Saracen,\nand the Ph\u0153nician are regarded as terms applied to the same people.\nWhereas the Ph\u0153nicians, who are recorded to have traded with the Cornish\nBritons for tin, and the Jews, who were the great tin miners and\nmerchants in the days of King John, are separated by wide periods of\ntime; and the \u201cSaracens,\u201d who some suppose to have been miners who came\nfrom Spain when that country was under the dominion of the Moors, occupy\na very undefined position. Tradition, however, tells us that the old\nCornish miners shipped their tin at several remarkable islands round the\ncoast. St Michael\u2019s Mount has been especially noticed, but this arises\nfrom the circumstance that it still retains the peculiar character which\nit appears to have possessed when Diodorus wrote. But Looe Island, St\nNicholas\u2019s Island in Plymouth Sound, the island at St Ives, the Chapel\nRock at Perran, and many other insular masses of rock, which are at but a\nshort distance from the coast, are said to have been shipping-places.\n\nTradition informs us that the Christian churches upon Dartmoor, which\nare said to have been built about the reign of John, were reared by the\nJews. Once, and once only, I heard the story told in more detail. They,\nthe Jews, did not actually work in the tin streams and mines of the Moor,\nbut they employed tinners, who were Christians; and the king imposed on\nthe Jew merchants the condition that they should build churches for their\nminers.\n\nThat the Ph\u0153nicians came to Cornwall to buy tin has been so often told,\nthat there is little to be added to the story. It was certainly new,\nhowever, to be informed by the miners in Gwennap\u2014that there could be no\nshade of doubt but that St Paul himself came to Cornwall to buy tin, and\nthat Creegbraws\u2014a mine still in existence\u2014supplied the saint largely\nwith that valuable mineral. Gwennap is regarded by Gwennap men as the\ncentre of Christianity. This feeling has been kept alive by the annual\nmeeting of the Wesleyan body in Gwennap Pit\u2014an old mine-working\u2014on\nWhit-monday. This high estate and privilege is due, says tradition, to\nthe fact that St Paul himself preached in the parish.[46]\n\nI have also been told that St Paul preached to the tinners on Dartmoor,\nand a certain cross on the road from Plympton to Princes-Town has been\nindicated as the spot upon which the saint stood to enlighten the\nbenighted miners of this wild region. Of St Piran or Perran we have\nalready spoken as the patron saint of the tinners, and of the discovery\nof tin a story has been told, (p. 21;) and we have already intimated\nthat another saint, whose name alone is preserved, St Picrous, has his\nfeast-day amongst the tinners of eastern Cornwall, on the second Thursday\nbefore Christmas.\n\nAmidst the giant stories we have the very remarkable Jack the Tinker,\nwho is clearly indicated as introducing the knowledge of tin, or of the\ndressing of tin, to the Cornish. This is another version of Wayland\nSmith, the blacksmith of Berkshire. The blacksmith of the Berkshire\nlegend reappears in a slightly altered character in Jack the Tinker. In\nCamden\u2019s \u201cBritannia\u201d we read, relative to Ashdown, in Berkshire:\u2014\n\n \u201cThe burial-place of Baereg, the Danish chief, who was slain\n in this fight, (the fight between Alfred and the Danes,) is\n distinguished by a parcel of stones, less than a mile from\n the hill, set on edge, enclosing a piece of ground somewhat\n raised. On the east side of the southern extremity stand\n three squarish flat stones, of about four or five feet over\n either way, supporting a fourth, and now called by the vulgar,\n Wayland Smith, from an idle tradition about an invisible smith\n replacing lost horseshoes there.\u201d\u2014_Gough\u2019s Camden_.\n\n See \u201cKenilworth,\u201d by Sir Walter Scott, who has appropriated\n Wayland Smith with excellent effect.\n\n \u201cThe Berkshire legend of Wayland Smith (\u2018Wayland Smith,\u2019 by W.\n S. Singer) is probably but a prototype of D\u00e6dalus, Tubal Cain,\n &c.\u201d\u2014_Wilson\u2019s Prehistoric Annals of Scotland._\n\n See also Mr Thomas Wright\u2019s Essay on Wayland Smith.\n\nThe existence of the terms \u201cJews\u2019 houses,\u201d \u201cJews\u2019 tin,\u201d \u201cJews\u2019 leavings,\u201d\nor \u201catall,\u201d and \u201catall Saracen,\u201d prove the connexion of strangers with\nthe Cornish tin mines. The inquiry is too large to be entered on here. I\nreserve it for another and more fitting place. I may, however, remark in\npassing, that I have no doubt the Romans were active miners during the\nperiod of their possession; and many relics which have been found and\nascribed to the Britons are undoubtedly Roman. See further remarks on p.\n118, \u201cWho are the Knockers?\u201d\n\nMr Edmonds supposes that he found in a bronze vessel discovered near\nMarazion a caldron in which tin was refined. In the first place, a bronze\nvessel would never have been used for that purpose\u2014chemical laws are\nagainst it; and in the second place, it is more than doubtful if ever the\n\u201cJews\u2019 tin\u201d was subjected to this process. In all probability, the bronze\nvessel discovered was a \u201cRoman camp-kettle.\u201d A very full description of\nbronze caldrons of this description will be found in \u201cThe Arch\u00e6ology and\nPrehistoric Annals of Scotland,\u201d by Daniel Wilson, p. 274.\n\nIt may not be out of place to insert here the tradition of a very\nimportant application of this metal.\n\nThe use of tin as a mordant, for which very large quantities are now\nused, is said to have been thus discovered:\u2014\n\nMr Crutchy, Bankside, married a Scotchwoman. This lady often told her\nhusband that his scarlet was not equal to one she could dye. He set\nher to work. She dyed a skein of worsted in a saucepan, using the same\nmaterial as her husband, but produced a better colour. She did not\nknow this was owing to the saucepan\u2019s being tinned, but he detected the\nfact, and made his fortune as a dyer of scarlet and Turkey-red. The most\nimportant Turkey-red dye-works are even now in the neighbourhood of\nLochlomond; therefore, this Scotchwoman may have been better acquainted\nwith the process than the story tells.\n\n\nTHE TINNER OF CHYANNOR.\n\nThe village of Trereen, near the Logan Stone, was at one time an\nimportant market-town. Here came all the tin-streamers who worked from\nPenberth to the hills, and to protect the place and the valuable property\nwhich was accumulated here, Castle Trereen was built. Here came\u2014or rather\ninto the cove near it came\u2014the Tyrian merchants. They were not allowed\nto advance beyond the shores, lest they should discover the country\nfrom which the tin was brought. But it is not of them that we have now\nto tell, but of a knot of tinners who came from the low country between\nChyannor and Trengothal. These were assembled round the Garrack Zans,\nwhich then stood in the centre of the market-place of Trereen. Times had\nbeen bad, and they were consulting together what they had better do. The\n\u201cstreams\u201d had failed them, and they believed all the tin was worked out.\nSome of them had heard that there was tin in \u201cthe country a long way\noff,\u201d some miles beyond Market-Jew; but they had but a very dim idea of\nthe place or of the people. One of them, who, though an old man, was more\nadventurous than any of his comrades, said he would travel there and see\nwhat could be done. It was then determined that Tom Trezidder should try\nhis fortune, and the others would wait until he came home again, or sent\nfor them to come to him. This was soon noised about, and all the women,\nold and young, came to say \u201cGood-bye\u201d to Tom. His parting with his wife\nwas brief but bitter. He bore up well, and with a stout heart started on\nhis adventure. Tom Trezidder arrived at length at a place not far from\nGoldsythney, and here he found one of the Jew merchants, who farmed the\ntin ground, and sold the tin at St Michael\u2019s Mount; and the Jew was very\nanxious to engage so experienced a \u201cstreamer\u201d as Tom was. Tom, nothing\nloath, took service for a year. He was to have just enough to live on,\nand a share of profits at the year\u2019s end. Tom worked diligently, and\nplenty of tin was the result of his experienced labour. The year expired,\nand Tom looked for his share of the profits. The Jew contrived to put Tom\noff, and promised Tom great things if he would stop for another year,\nand persuaded him to send for some of his old comrades, clenching every\nargument which he employed with a small piece of advice, \u201cNever leave an\nold road for a new one.\u201d\n\nThe other tinners were shy of venturing so far, so that two or three\nonly could be persuaded to leave the West Country. With Tom and with his\nbrethren the year passed by, and at the end he got no money, but only the\nsame piece of advice, \u201cNever leave an old road for a new one.\u201d This went\non for a third year, when all of them, being naturally tired of this sort\nof thing, resolved to go home again.\n\nTom Trezidder was a favourite with his master, and was greatly esteemed\nfor his honesty and industry by his mistress.\n\nWhen they left she gave Tom a good currant cake to take home to his old\nwoman, and told him to remember the advice, \u201cNever leave an old road for\na new one.\u201d\n\nThe tinners trudged on together until they were on the western side of\nPenzance. They were weary, and they found that since they had left home\na new road had been made over the hills, which saved them a considerable\ndistance\u2014in fact it was a \u201cshort cut.\u201d On they went. \u201cNo,\u201d says Tom;\n\u201cnever leave an old road for a new one.\u201d They all laughed at him, and\ntrudged on. But Tom kept in the old road along the valley round the hill.\nWhen Tom reached the other end of the \u201cshort cut\u201d he thought he would\nrest a bit, and he sat down by the roadside and ate his _fuggan_. This\nhis mistress had given him, that he might not break his cake until he got\nhome.\n\nHe had not sat long when he heard a noise, and, looking up the hill, he\nsaw his comrades, whom he thought were miles in advance of him, slowly\nand sorrowfully descending it. They came at last to where Tom was seated,\nand a sad tale had they to tell. They had scarcely got into the new road\nwhen they were set upon by robbers, who took from them \u201call their little\nbit of money,\u201d and then beat them because they had no more.\n\nTom, you may be sure, thought the piece of advice worth something now, as\nit had saved his bacon.\n\nTom arrived home at last, and glad was the old woman to see her old man\nonce again; so she made him some \u201cherby tea\u201d at once. He shewed his wife\nthe cake, and told her that all he had received for his share of profits\nwas the piece of advice already given.\n\nThe ladies who read this story will understand how vexed was Tom\u2019s\nwife,\u2014there are but few of them who would not have done as she did, that\nwas to seize the cake from the table and fling it at her husband\u2019s head,\ncalling him an old fool. Tom Trezidder stooped to avoid the blow. Slap\nagainst the corner of the dresser went the cake, breaking in pieces with\nthe blow, and out on the lime-ash floor rolled a lot of gold coins.\n\nThis soon changed the aspect of things; the storm rolled back, and\nsunshine was once more in the cottage. The coins were all gathered up,\nand they found a scrap of paper, on which, when they got the priest to\nread it, they discovered was written an exact account of each year\u2019s\nprofits, and Tom\u2019s share. The three years\u2019 shares had been duly hoarded\nfor him by his master and mistress; and now this old couple found they\nhad enough to make them comfortable for the rest of their days. Many were\nthe prayers said by Tom and his wife for the happiness and health of the\nhonest Jew tin merchant and his wife.\n\n\n\u201cWHO ARE THE KNOCKERS?\u201d\n\nCharles Kingsley in his \u201cYeast: a Problem,\u201d asks this question\u2014Tregarra\nanswers,\u2014\n\n\u201cThey are _the ghosts_, the miners hold, _of the old Jews that crucified\nour Lord, and were sent for slaves by the Roman emperors to work the\nmines_: and we find their old smelting-houses, which we call _Jews\u2019\nhouses_, and their blocks at the bottom of the great bogs, which we call\n_Jews\u2019 tin_: and then a town among us too, which we call _Market-Jew_,\nbut the old name was Marazion, that means the bitterness of Zion, they\ntell me; and bitter work it was for them, no doubt, poor souls! We used\nto break into old shafts and adits which they had made, and find fine\nold stag\u2019s-horn pickaxes, that crumbled to pieces when we brought them\nto grass. And they say that if a man will listen of a still night about\nthese shafts, he may hear the ghosts of them at work, knocking and\npicking, as clear as if there was a man at work in the next level.\u201d\n\nIn _Notes and Queries_ will be found some learned discussions on the\nquestion of the Jews working the Cornish tin mines, as though it were\nmerely one of tradition. That the Jews farmed the tin mines of Cornwall\nand Devonshire is an historical fact, of which we have evidence in\ncharters granted by several of our kings, especially by King John. Carew\nin his \u201cSurvey of Cornwall\u201d gives some account of their mode of dealing\nwith the tinners. Hence the terms \u201cJews\u2019 houses,\u201d given to old and rude\nsmelting-works,\u2014many of which I have seen,\u2014and hence the name of \u201cJews\u2019\ntin,\u201d given to the old blocks of tin, specimens of which may be seen\nin the _Museum of Practical Geology_, and in the museum of the _Royal\nInstitution of Cornwall_, at Truro. \u201c_Atall Sarazin_\u201d is another term\napplied to some of the old waste-heaps of the ancient tin mines.\n\n\u201cThe Jews,\u201d says Whitaker, (\u201cOrigin of Arianism,\u201d p. 334,) \u201cdenominated\nthemselves, and were denominated by the Britons of Cornwall, _Saracens_,\nas the genuine progeny of Sarah.\u201d Be this as it may, I have often heard\nin the mining villages\u2014from twenty to thirty years since\u2014a man coming\nfrom a distant parish, called \u201c_a foreigner_;\u201d a man from a distant\ncountry, termed \u201c_an outlandish man_;\u201d and any one not British born,\ndesignated as \u201c_a Saracen_.\u201d\n\nBut this has led me away from the knockers, who are in some districts\ncalled also \u201c_the buccas_.\u201d Many a time have I been seriously informed\nby the miners themselves that these sprites have been heard working away\nin the remote parts of a lode, repeating the blows of the miner\u2019s pick\nor sledge with great precision. Generally speaking, the knockers work\nupon productive lodes only; and they have often kindly indicated to the\ntrusting miner, where they might take good tribute pitches.\n\nTo Wesley, Cornwall owes a deep debt. He found the country steeped in\nthe darkness of superstitious ignorance, and he opened a new light\nupon it. Associated with the spread of Wesleyan Methodism, has been\nthe establishment of schools; and under the influence of religion and\neducation, many of the superstitions have faded away. We rarely hear\nof the knockers now; but the following occurrence will shew that the\nknockers have not entirely left the land:\u2014\n\nOne Saturday night I had retired to rest, having first seen that all\nthe members of the household had gone to their bedrooms. These were my\ndaughters, two female servants, and an old woman, named Mary, who was\nleft, by the proprietor, in charge of the house which I occupied.\n\nI had been some time in bed, when I distinctly heard a bedroom door open,\nand footsteps which, after moving about for some time in the passage or\nlanding, from which the bedrooms opened, slowly and carefully descended\nthe stairs. I heard a movement in the kitchen below, and the footsteps\nagain ascended the stairs, and went into one of the bedrooms. This noise\ncontinued so long, and was so regularly repeated, that I began to fear\nlest one of the children were taken suddenly ill. Yet I felt assured, if\nit was so, one of the servants would call me. Therefore I lay still and\nlistened until I fell asleep.\n\nOn the Sunday morning, when I descended to the breakfast-room, I asked\nthe eldest of the two servants what had occasioned so much going up\nand down stairs in the night. She declared that no one had left their\nbedrooms after they had retired to them. I then inquired of the younger\ngirl, and of each of my daughters as they made their appearance. No one\nhad left their rooms\u2014they had not heard any noises. My youngest daughter,\nwho had been, after this inquiry of mine, for some minutes alone with the\nyoungest servant, came laughing to me,\u2014\n\n\u201cPapa, Nanny says the house is haunted, and that they have often heard\nstrange noises in it.\u201d\n\nSo I called Nancy; but all I could learn from her was that noises, like\nthat of men going up and down stairs,\u2014of threshing corn, and of \u201cbeating\nthe borer,\u201d (a mining operation,) were not uncommon.\n\nWe all laughed over papa\u2019s ghost during the breakfast, and by and by old\nMary made her appearance.\n\n\u201cYes,\u201d she said, \u201cit is quite true, as Nanny as a told you. I have often\nheard all sorts of strange noises; but I b\u2019lieve they all come from the\nlode of tin which runs under the house. _Wherever there is a lode of tin,\nyou are sure to hear strange noises._\u201d\n\n\u201cWhat, Mary! was it the knockers I heard last night?\u201d\n\n\u201cYes; \u2019twas the knackers, down working upon the tin\u2014no doubt of it.\u201d\n\nThis was followed by a long explanation, and numerous stories of mines\nin the Lelant and St Ives district, in which the knockers had been often\nheard.\n\nAfter a little time, Mary, imagining, I suppose, that the young ladies\nmight not like to sleep in a house beneath which the knockers were at\nwork; again came with her usual low courtesy into the parlour.\n\n\u201cBeg pardon, sir,\u201d says she; \u201cbut none of the young ladies need be\nafraid. There are no spirits in the house; it is very nearly a new one,\nand no one has ever died in the house.\u201d\n\nThis makes a distinct difference between the ghost of the departed and\nthose gnomes who are doomed to toil in the earth\u2019s dark recesses.[47] The\nCornish knocker does not appear to be the \u201c_cobal_\u201d of German miners.\nThe former are generally kindly, and often serve the industrious miner;\nthe latter class are always malicious, and, I believe, are never heard\nbut when mischief is near.\n\n\nMINERS\u2019 SUPERSTITIONS.\n\nMiners say they often see little imps or demons underground. Their\npresence is considered favourable; they indicate the presence of lodes,\nabout which they work during the absence of the miners. A miner told my\ninformant that he had often seen them, sitting on pieces of timber, or\ntumbling about in curious attitudes, when he came to work.\n\nMiners do not like the form of the cross being made underground. A friend\nof my informant, going through some \u201clevels\u201d or \u201cadits,\u201d made a + by the\nside of one, to know his way back, as he would have to return by himself.\nHe was compelled to alter it into another form.\n\nIf miners see a snail when going to \u201cbal\u201d in the morning, they always\ndrop a piece of tallow from their candles by its side.\n\n\nCHRISTMAS-EVE IN THE MINES.\n\nOn Christmas-eve, in former days, the small people, or the spriggans,\nwould meet at the bottom of the deepest mines, and have a midnight mass.\nThen those who were in the mine would hear voices melodious beyond all\nearthly voices, singing, \u201cNow well! now well;\u201d[48] and the strains of\nsome deep-toned organ would shake the rocks. Of the grandeur of those\nmeetings, old stories could not find words sufficiently sonorous to\nspeak; it was therefore left to the imagination. But this was certain,\nthe temple formed by the fairy bands in which to celebrate the eve of the\nbirth of a Saviour, in whose mercy they all had hope, was of the most\nmagnificent description.\n\nMidsummer-eve and new-year\u2019s day and eve are holidays with the miners.\nIt has been said they refuse to work on those days from superstitious\nreasons. I never heard of any.\n\n\nWARNINGS AND \u201cTOKENS.\u201d\n\nAmongst the mining population there is a deeply-rooted belief in\nwarnings. The following, related by a very respectable man, formerly a\nminer, well illustrates this:\u2014\n\n\u201cMy father, when a lad, worked with a companion (James or \u2018Jim,\u2019 as he\nwas called) in Germo. They lived close by Old Wheal Grey in Breage. One\nevening, the daughter of the person with whom they lodged came in to her\nmother, crying, \u2018Billy and Jim ben out theer for more than a hour, and\nI ben chasin them among the Kilyur banks, and they waan\u2019t ler me catch\nthem. As fast as I do go to one, they do go to another.\u2019 \u2018Hould your\ntongue, child,\u2019 said the mother; \u2018\u2019twas their forenoon core, and they\nboth ben up in bed this hours.\u2019 \u2018I\u2019m sure I ben chasin them,\u2019 said the\ngirl. The mother then went up-stairs and awoke the lads, telling them\nthe story. One of them said, \u2018\u2019Tis a warning; somethin will happen in\nun old end, and I shan\u2019t go to mine this core.\u2019 \u2018Nonsense,\u2019 said the\nother; \u2018don\u2019t let us be so foolish; the child has been playing with\nsome strangers, and it isn\u2019t worth while to be spaled for any such\nfoolishness.\u2019 \u2018I tell you,\u2019 replied the other, \u2018I won\u2019t go.\u2019 As it was\nuseless for one man to go alone, both remained away. In the course of the\nnight, however, a run took place in the end they were working in, and\ntens of thousands of kibblefuls came away. Had they been at work, it was\nscarcely possible for them to have escaped.\u201d\n\nAt Wheal Vor it has always been and is now believed that a fatal accident\nin the mine is presaged by the appearance of a hare or white rabbit in\none of the engine-houses. The men solemnly declare that they have chased\nthese appearances till they were hemmed in apparently, without being\nable to catch them. The white rabbit on one occasion being _run into a\n\u201cwindbore\u201d_ lying on the ground, _and, though stopped in_, escaped.\n\nIn this mine there appears to be a general belief among the men in\n\u201ctokens\u201d and supernatural appearances. A few months since, a fine old man\nreported, on being relieved from his turn as watcher, that during the\nnight he heard a loud sound like the emptying of a cartload of rubbish in\nfront of the account-house, where he was staying. On going out, nothing\nwas to be seen. The poor fellow, considering the strange sound as a\n\u201cwarning,\u201d pined away and died within a few weeks.\n\n\nTHE GHOST ON HORSEBACK.\n\nBilly \u2014\u2014 and John \u2014\u2014, working at Wheal Vor, were in the habit, early in\nthe morning, of calling out a dog or two, kept by the occupier of an\nadjoining farm, and with them hunt over the Godolphin warren adjoining.\nOne morning, while thus engaged, one of them gave the alarm that a man on\nhorseback was coming down the road. \u201c\u2019Tisn\u2019t possible,\u201d said the other;\n\u201cno horse can ever come over that road.\u201d \u201cThere is a horse, and old\nCap\u2019n T. is upon it,\u201d replied the first. \u201cHold thy tongue,\u201d rejoined his\ncomrade; \u201che\u2019s dead months ago.\u201d \u201cI know that; but \u2019tis he, sure enough.\u201d\nBoth crouched down behind a bush; and my informant, whose father was one\nof the parties, declared that the appearance of Capt. T., on a black\nhorse, passed noiselessly down the road immediately before them, but\nwithout noticing their presence.\n\n\nTHE BLACK DOGS.\n\nAbout thirty years since, a man and a lad were engaged in sinking a shaft\nat Wheal Vor Mine, when the lad, through carelessness or accident, missed\nin charging a hole, so that a necessity arose for the dangerous operation\nof picking out the charge. This they proceeded to do, the man severely\nreprimanding the carelessness of his assistant. Several other miners\nat the time being about to change their core, were on the plat above,\ncalling down and conversing occasionally with man and boy. Suddenly the\ncharge exploded, and the latter were seen to be thrown up in the midst of\na volume of flame. As soon as help could be procured, a party descended,\nwhen the remains of the poor fellows were found to be shattered and\nscorched beyond recognition. When these were brought to the surface, the\nclothes and a mass of mangled flesh dropped from the bodies. A bystander,\nto spare the feelings of the relatives, hastily caught up the revolting\nmass in a shovel, and threw the whole into the blazing furnace of Woolf\u2019s\nengine, close at hand. From that time the enginemen declared that troops\nof little black dogs continually haunted the place, even when the doors\nwere shut. Few of them liked to talk about it; but it was difficult to\nobtain the necessary attendance to work the machine.\n\n\nPITMEN\u2019S OMENS AND GOBLINS.\n\nIt is curious to notice the correspondence between the superstitions\nof the coal-miner and those employed in the metalliferous mines. The\nfollowing comes very opportunely to our hand:\u2014\n\n The superstitions of pitmen were once many and terrible; but\n so far from existing now-a-days, they are only matters of\n tradition among the old men. One class only of superstitions\n does exist among a few of the older and less-educated\n pitmen\u2014namely, the class of omens, warnings, and signs. If one\n of these pitmen meet or see a woman, if he catch but a glimpse\n of her draperies, on his way, in the middle of the night to\n the pit, the probability is that he returns home and goes to\n bed again. The appearance of woman at this untimely hour has\n often materially impeded the day\u2019s winning, for the omen is\n held not to be personal to the individual perceiving it, but to\n bode general ill luck to all. The walk from home to pit mouth,\n always performed at dead of the night, was the period when\n omens were mostly to be looked for. The supernatural appearance\n of a little white animal like a rabbit, which was said to\n cross the miner\u2019s path, was another warning not to descend.\n Sometimes the omens were rather mental than visual. The pitmen\n in the midland counties have, or had, a belief, unknown in the\n north, in aerial whistlings, warning them against the pit.\n Who, or what the invisible musicians were, nobody pretended\n to know; but for all that, they must have been counted and\n found to consist of seven, as \u201cThe Seven Whistlers\u201d is the\n name they bear to this day. Two goblins were believed to haunt\n the northern mines. One was a spiteful elf, who indicated his\n presence only by the mischief he perpetrated. He rejoiced\n in the name of \u201cCutty Soams,\u201d and appears to have employed\n himself only in the stupid device of severing the rope-traces\n or soams, by which an assistant-putter\u2014honoured by the title of\n \u201cthe fool\u201d\u2014is yoked to the tub. The strands of hemp which were\n left all sound in the board at \u201ckenner-time,\u201d were found next\n morning severed in twain. \u201cCutty Soams\u201d has been at work, would\n the fool and his driver say, dolefully knotting the cord. The\n other goblin was altogether a more sensible, and, indeed, an\n honest and hard-working bogie, much akin to the Scotch brownie,\n or the hairy fiend, whom Milton rather scurvily apostrophises\n as a lubber. The supernatural personage in question was no\n other than a ghostly putter, and his name was \u201cBluecap.\u201d\n Sometimes the miners would perceive a light blue flame\n flicker through the air, and settle on a full coal-tub, which\n immediately moved towards the rolley-way, as though impelled by\n the sturdiest sinews in the working. Industrious Bluecap was\n at his vocation; but he required, and rightly, to be paid for\n his services, which he modestly rated as those of an ordinary\n average putter; therefore once a fortnight Bluecap\u2019s wages\n were left for him in a solitary corner of the mine. If they\n were a farthing below his due, the indignant Bluecap would\n not pocket a stiver; if they were a farthing above his due,\n indignant Bluecap left the surplus revenue where he found it.\n The writer asked his informant, a hewer, whether, if Bluecap\u2019s\n wages were now-a-days to be left for him, he thought they would\n be appropriated; the man shrewdly answered, he thought they\n would be taken by Bluecap, or by somebody else. Of the above\n notions it must be understood that the idea of omens is the\n only one still seriously entertained, and even its hold upon\n the popular mind, as has been before stated, is becoming weaker\n and weaker.\u2014_Colliery Guardian, May 23, 1863._\n\n\nTHE DEAD HAND.\n\n\u201cI\u2019ve seen it\u2014I\u2019ve seen it!\u201d exclaimed a young woman, pale with terror,\napproaching with much haste the door of a cottage, around which were\ngathered several of the miners\u2019 wives inhabiting the adjoining dwellings.\n\n\u201cGod\u2019s mercy be with the chield!\u201d replied the oldest woman of the group,\nwith very great seriousness.\n\n\u201cAunt Alice,\u201d asked one of the youngest women, \u201cand do \u2019e b\u2019lieve any\nharm will come o\u2019 seeing it?\u201d\n\n\u201cMary Doble saw it and pined; Jinny Trestrail was never the same woman\nafter she seed the hand in Wheal Jewel; and I knows ever so many more;\nbut let us hope, by the blessing o\u2019 the Lord, no evil will come on Mary.\u201d\n\nMary was evidently impressed with a sense of some heavy trouble. She\nsighed deeply, and pressed her hand to her side, as if to still the\nbeating of her heart. The thoughtless faith of the old woman promised\nto work out a fulfilment of her fears in producing mental distress and\ncorporeal suffering in the younger one.\n\nWhile this was passing in the little village, a group of men were\ngathered around a deserted shaft, which existed in too dangerous\nproximity with the abodes of the miners. They were earnestly discussing\nthe question of the reality of the appearance of the _dead hand_\u2014those\nwho had not seen it expressing a doubt of its reality, while others\ndeclared most emphatically, \u201cthat in that very shaft they had seed un\nwith a lighted candle in his hand, moving up and down upon the ladders,\nas though he was carried by a living man.\u201d\n\nIt appears that some time previously to the abandonment of the mine, an\nunfortunate miner was ascending from his subterranean labours, carrying\nhis candle in his hand. He was probably seized with giddiness, but from\nthat or some other cause, he fell away from the ladders, and was found\nby his comrades a bleeding corpse at the bottom. The character of this\nman was not of the best; and after his burial, it was stated by the\npeople that _he had been seen_. From a vague rumour of his spectral\nappearance on the surface, the tale eventually settled itself into that\nof the dead hand moving up and down in the shaft.\n\nBy the spectral light of the candle, the hand had been distinctly visible\nto many, and the irregular motion of the light proved that the candle\nwas held in the usual manner between the thumb and finger in its ball of\nclay, while the fingers were employed in grasping stave after stave of\nthe ladder. The belief in the evil attendant on being unfortunate enough\nto see this spectral hand, prevailed very generally amongst the mining\npopulation about twenty years since. The dead hand was not, however,\nconfined to one shaft or mine. Similar narrations have been met with in\nseveral districts.\n\n\nDORCAS, THE SPIRIT OF POLBREEN MINE.\n\nPolbreen Mine is situated at the foot of the hill known as St Agnes\nBecon. In one of the small cottages which immediately adjoins the mine\nonce lived a woman called Dorcas.\n\nBeyond this we know little of her life; but we are concerned chiefly with\nher death, which we are told was suicidal.\n\nFrom some cause, which is not related, Dorcas grew weary of life, and one\nunholy night she left her house and flung herself into one of the deep\nshafts of Polbreen Mine, at the bottom of which her dead and broken body\nwas discovered. The remnant of humanity was brought to the surface; and\nafter the laws of the time with regard to suicides had been fulfilled,\nthe body of Dorcas was buried.\n\nHer presence, however, still remained in the mine. She appears ordinarily\nto take a malicious delight in tormenting the industrious miner, calling\nhim by name, and alluring him from his tasks. This was carried on by her\nto such an extent, that when a \u201ctributer\u201d had made a poor month, he was\nasked if he had \u201cbeen chasing Dorcas.\u201d[49]\n\nDorcas was usually only a voice. It has been said by some that they have\nseen her in the mine, but this is doubted by the miners generally, who\nrefer the spectral appearance to the fears of their \u201ccomrade.\u201d\n\nBut it is stated as an incontrovertible fact, that more than one man who\nhas met the spirit in the levels of the mine has had his clothes torn off\nhis back; whether in anger or in sport, is not clearly made out. On one\noccasion, and on one occasion only, Dorcas appears to have acted kindly.\nTwo miners, who for distinction\u2019s sake we will call Martin and Jacky,\nwere at work in their end, and at the time busily at work \u201cbeating the\nborer.\u201d\n\nThe name of Jacky was distinctly uttered between the blows. He stopped\nand listened\u2014all was still. They proceed with their task: a blow on the\niron rod.\u2014\u201cJacky.\u201d Another blow.\u2014\u201cJacky.\u201d They pause\u2014all is silent.\n\u201cWell, thee wert called, Jacky,\u201d said Martin, \u201cgo and see.\u201d\n\nJacky was, however, either afraid, or he thought himself the fool of his\nsenses.\n\nWork was resumed, and \u201cJacky! Jacky! Jacky!\u201d was called more vehemently\nand distinctly than before.\n\nJacky threw down his heavy hammer, and went from his companion, resolved\nto satisfy himself as to the caller.\n\nHe had not proceeded many yards from the spot on which he had been\nstanding at work, when a mass of rock fell from the roof of the level,\nweighing many tons, which would have crushed him to death. Martin had\nbeen stooping, holding the borer, and a projecting corner of rock just\nabove him turned off the falling mass. He was securely enclosed, and they\nhad to dig him out, but he escaped without injury. Jacky declared to his\ndying day that he owed his life to Dorcas.\n\nAlthough Dorcas\u2019s shaft remains a part of Polbreen Mine, I am informed by\nthe present agent that her presence has departed.\n\n\nHINGSTON DOWNS.\n\n \u201cHengsten Down, well ywrought,\n Is worth London town dearly bought.\u201d\n\n CAREW\u2014_Lord De Dunstanville\u2019s Edition_.\n\nIt may be worthy of consideration whether we have not evidence in this\ndistich of the extent to which mining operations were carried on over\nthis moorland and the adjoining country by the ancient Cornish miners.\n\nIt is said that this moorland was originally Hengiston; and tradition\naffirms that the name preserves the memory of a severe contest, when the\nWelsh joined Egbright, a king of the West Saxons, and defeated the host\nof Danes, who had come over to \u201cWest Wales,\u201d meaning thereby Cornwall.\nOn this waste Hengist had his fenced camp, and here the Cornish and the\nWelsh attacked and entirely overthrew him. It is evident, if tradition is\nto be believed, that the struggle was to gain possession of a valuable\ntin ground.\n\n\n\n\nFISHERMEN AND SAILORS.\n\n \u201cI was saying to Jack, as we talk\u2019d t\u2019 other day\n About lubbers and snivelling elves,\n That if people in life did not steer the right way,\n They had nothing to thank but themselves.\n Now, when a man\u2019s caught by those mermaids the girls,\n With their flattering palaver and smiles;\n He runs, while he\u2019s list\u2019ning to their fal de rals,\n Bump ashore on the Scilly Isles.\u201d\n\n TOM DIBDIN.\n\n\n\n\nROMANCES OF FISHERMEN AND SAILORS.\n\n\nTHE PILOT\u2019S GHOST STORY.\n\n \u201cOn a sudden shrilly sounding,\n Hideous yells and shrieks were heard;\n Then each heart with fear confounding,\n A sad troop of ghosts appear\u2019d,\n All in dreary hammocks shrouded,\n Which for winding-sheets they wore.\u201d\n\n _Admiral Hosier\u2019s Ghost._\n\nI prefer giving this story in the words in which it was communicated. For\nits singular character, it is a ghost story well worth preserving:\u2014\u201cJust\nseventeen years since, I went down on the wharf from my house one night\nabout twelve and one in the morning, to see whether there was any\n\u2018hobble,\u2019 and found a sloop, the _Sally_ of St Ives, (the _Sally_ was\nwrecked at St Ives one Saturday afternoon in the spring of 1862,) in\nthe bay, bound for Hayle. When I got by the White Hart public-house, I\nsaw a man leaning against a post on the wharf,\u2014I spoke to him, wished\nhim good morning, and asked him what o\u2019clock it was, but to no purpose.\nI was not to be easily frightened, for I didn\u2019t believe in ghosts; and\nfinding I got no answer to my repeated inquiries, I approached close to\nhim and said, \u2018Thee\u2019rt a queer sort of fellow, not to speak; I\u2019d speak to\nthe devil, if he were to speak to me. Who art a at all? thee\u2019st needn\u2019t\nthink to frighten me; that thee wasn\u2019t do, if thou wert twice so ugly;\nwho art a at all?\u2019 He turned his great ugly face on me, glared abroad his\ngreat eyes, opened his mouth, and it was a mouth sure nuff. Then I saw\npieces of sea-weed and bits of sticks in his whiskers; the flesh of his\nface and hands were parboiled, just like a woman\u2019s hands after a good\nday\u2019s washing. Well, I did not like his looks a bit, and sheered off;\nbut he followed close by my side, and I could hear the water squashing\nin his shoes every step he took. Well, I stopped a bit, and thought to\nbe a little bit civil to him, and spoke to him again, but no answer. I\nthen thought I would go to seek for another of our crew, and nock him up\nto get the vessel, and had got about fifty or sixty yards, when I turned\nto see if he was following me, but saw him where I left him. Fearing he\nwould come after me, I ran for my life the few steps that I had to go.\nBut when I got to the door, to my horror there stood the man in the door\ngrinning horribly. I shook like as aspen-leaf; my hat lifted from my\nhead; the sweat boiled out of me. What to do I didn\u2019t know, and in the\nhouse there was such a row, as if everybody was breaking up everything.\nAfter a bit I went in, for the door was \u2018on the latch,\u2019\u2014that is, not\nlocked,\u2014and called the captain of the boat, and got light, but everything\nwas all right, nor had he heard any noise. We went out aboard of the\n_Sally_, and I put her into Hayle, but I felt ill enough to be in bed.\nI left the vessel to come home as soon as I could, but it took me four\nhours to walk two miles, and I had to lie down in the road, and was\ncarried home to St Ives in a cart; as far as the Terrace from there I was\ncarried home by my brothers, and put to bed. Three days afterwards all my\nhair fell off as if I had had my head shaved. The roots, and for about\nhalf an inch from the roots, being quite white. I was ill six months,\nand the doctor\u2019s bill was \u00a34, 17s. 6d. for attendance and medicine. So\nyou see I have reason to believe in the existence of spirits as much as\nMr Wesley had. My hair grew again, and twelve months after I had as good\na head of dark-brown hair as ever.\u201d[50]\n\n\nTHE PHANTOM SHIP.\n\nYears long ago, one night, a gig\u2019s crew was called to go off to a\n\u201chobble,\u201d to the westwards of St Ives Head. No sooner was one boat\nlaunched than several others were put off from the shore, and a stiff\nchase was maintained, each one being eager to get to the ship, as she had\nthe appearance of a foreign trader. The hull was clearly visible, she was\na schooner-rigged vessel, with a light over her bows.\n\nAway they pulled, and the boat which had been first launched still kept\nahead by dint of mechanical power and skill. All the men had thrown off\ntheir jackets to row with more freedom. At length the helmsman cried out,\n\u201cStand ready to board her.\u201d The sailor rowing the bow oar slipped it out\nof the row-lock, and stood on the forethought, taking his jacket on his\narm, ready to spring aboard.\n\nThe vessel came so close to the boat that they could see the men, and\nthe bow-oar man made a grasp at her bulwarks. His hand found nothing\nsolid, and he fell, being caught by one of his mates, back into the boat,\ninstead of into the water. Then ship and lights disappeared. The next\nmorning the _Neptune_ of London, Captain Richard Grant, was wrecked at\nGwithian, and all perished. The captain\u2019s body was picked up after a\nfew days, and that of his son also. They were both buried in Gwithian\nchurchyard.\n\n\nJACK HARRY\u2019S LIGHTS.\n\nThe phantom lights are called, they tell me, \u201cJack Harry\u2019s lights,\u201d\nbecause he was the first man who was fooled by them. They are generally\nobserved before a gale, and the ship seen is like the ship which is sure\nto be wrecked. The man who communicated this to me said, \u201cWhat or how it\nis we can\u2019t tell, but the fact of its being seen is too plain.\u201d\n\nThe following is another version, which I received from an old pilot:\u2014\n\n\u201cSome five years ago, on a Sunday night, the wind being strong, our crew\nheard of a large vessel in the offing, after we came out of chapel. We\nmanned our big boat, the _Ark_,\u2014she was nearly new then,\u2014and away we\nwent, under close-reefed foresail and little mizen, the sea going over\nus at a sweet rate. The vessel stood just off the head, the wind blowing\nW.N.W. We had gone off four or five miles, and we thought we were up\nalongside, when, lo! she slipped to windward a league or more. Well, off\nwe went after her, and a good beating match we had, too; but the _Ark_\nwas a safe craft, and we neared and neared till, as we thought, we got up\nclose. Away she whizzed in a minute, in along to Godrevy, just over the\ncourse we sailed; so we gave it up for \u201cJack Harry\u2019s light,\u201d and, with\nwet jackets and disappointed hopes, we bore up for the harbour, prepared\nto hear of squalls, which came heavier than ever next day.\n\n\u201cScores of pilots have seen and been led a nice chase after them. They\nare just the same as the _Flying Dutchman_, seen off the Cape of Good\nHope.\u201d\n\nAnother man informed me that, once coming down channel, they had a\nphantom ship alongside of them for miles: it was a moonlight night, with\na thin rain and mist. They could see several men aboard moving about.\nThey hailed her several times, but could not get an answer, \u201cand we\ndidn\u2019t know what to think of her, when all at once she vanished.\u201d\n\n\nTHE PIRATE-WRECKER AND THE DEATH SHIP.\n\nOne lovely evening in the autumn, a strange ship was seen at a short\ndistance from Cape Cornwall. The little wind there was blew from the\nland, but she did not avail herself of it. She was evidently permitted to\ndrift with the tide, which was flowing southward, and curving in round\nWhitesand Bay towards the Land\u2019s-End. The vessel, from her peculiar rig,\ncreated no small amount of alarm amongst the fishermen, since it told\nthem that she was manned by pirates; and a large body of men and women\nwatched her movements from behind the rocks at Caraglose. At length,\nwhen within a couple of pistol-shots off the shore, a boat was lowered\nand manned. Then a man, whose limited movements shew him to be heavily\nironed, was brought to the side of the ship and evidently forced,\u2014for\nseveral pistols were held at his head,\u2014into the boat, which then rowed\nrapidly to the shore in Priest\u2019s Cove. The waves of the Atlantic Ocean\nfell so gently on the strand, that there was no difficulty in beaching\nthe boat. The prisoner was made to stand up, and his ponderous chains\nwere removed from his arms and ankles. In a frenzy of passion he attacked\nthe sailors, but they were too many and too strong for him, and the fight\nterminated by his being thrown into the water, and left to scramble up on\nthe dry sands. They pushed the boat off with a wild shout, and this man\nstood uttering fearful imprecations on his former comrades.\n\nIt subsequently became known that this man was so monstrously wicked that\neven the pirates would no longer endure him, and hence they had recourse\nto this means of ridding themselves of him.\n\nIt is not necessary to tell how this wretch settled himself at Tregaseal,\nand lived by a system of wrecking, pursued with unheard-of cruelties and\ncunning. \u201cIt\u2019s too frightful to tell,\u201d says my correspondent, \u201cwhat was\nsaid about his doings. We scarcely believed half of the vile things we\nheard, till we saw what took place at his death. But one can\u2019t say he\ndied, because he was taken off bodily. We shall never know the scores,\nperhaps hundreds, of ships that old sinner has brought on the cliffs,\nby fastening his lantern to the neck of his horse, with its head tied\nclose to the forefoot. The horse, when driven along the cliff, would, by\nits motion, cause the lantern to be taken for the stern-light of a ship;\nthen the vessel would come right in on the rocks, since those on board\nwould expect to find plenty of sea-room; and, if any of the poor sailors\nescaped a watery grave, the old wretch would give them a worse death, by\nknocking them on the head with his hatchet, or cutting off their hands as\nthey tried to grasp the ledges of the rocks.\u201d\n\nA life of extreme wickedness was at length closed with circumstances\nof unusual terror\u2014so terrible, that the story is told with feelings of\nawe even at the present day. The old wretch fought lustily with death,\nbut at length the time of his departure came. It was in the time of the\nbarley-harvest. Two men were in a field on the cliff, a little below\nthe house, mowing. A universal calm prevailed, and there was not a\nbreath of wind to stir the corn. Suddenly a breeze passed by them, and\nthey heard the words, \u201cThe time is come, but the man isn\u2019t come.\u201d These\nwords appeared to float in the breeze from the sea, and consequently it\nattracted their attention. Looking out to sea, they saw a black, heavy,\nsquare-rigged ship, with all her sails set, coming in against wind\nand tide, and not a hand to be seen on board. The sky became black as\nnight around the ship, and as she came under the cliff\u2014and she came so\nclose that the top of the masts could scarcely be perceived\u2014the darkness\nresolved itself into a lurid storm-cloud, which extended high into the\nair. The sun shone brilliantly over the country, except on the house of\nthe pirate at Tregaseal\u2014that was wrapt in the deep shadow of the cloud.\n\nThe men, in terror, left their work; they found all the neighbours\ngathered around the door of the pirate\u2019s cottage, none of them daring to\nenter it. Parson \u2014\u2014 had been sent for by the terrified peasants, this\ndivine being celebrated for his power of driving away evil spirits.\n\nThe dying wrecker was in a state of agony, crying out, in tones of the\nmost intense terror, \u201cThe devil is tearing at me with nails like the\nclaws of a hawk! Put out the sailors with their bloody hands!\u201d and using,\nin the paroxysms of pain, the most profane imprecations. The parson, the\ndoctor, and two of the bravest of the fishermen, were the only persons\nin the room. They related that at one moment the room was as dark as\nthe grave, and that at the next it was so light that every hair on the\nold man\u2019s head could be seen standing on end. The parson used all his\ninfluence to dispel the evil spirit. His powers were so potent that he\nreduced the devil to the size of a fly, but he could not put him out of\nthe room. All this time the room appeared as if filled with the sea,\nwith the waves surging violently to and fro, and one could hear the\nbreakers roaring, as if standing on the edge of the cliff in a storm. At\nlast there was a fearful crash of thunder, and a blaze of the intensest\nlightning. The house appeared on fire, and the ground shook, as if with\nan earthquake. All rushed in terror from the house, leaving the dying man\nto his fate.\n\nThe storm raged with fearful violence, but appeared to contract its\ndimensions. The black cloud, which was first seen to come in with\nthe black ship, was moving, with a violent internal motion, over the\nwrecker\u2019s house. The cloud rolled together, smaller and smaller, and\nsuddenly, with the blast of a whirlwind, it passed from Tregaseal to the\nship, and she was impelled, amidst the flashes of lightning and roarings\nof thunder, away over the sea.\n\nThe dead body of the pirate-wrecker lay a ghastly spectacle, with eyes\nexpanded and the mouth partly open, still retaining the aspect of his\nlast mortal terror. As every one hated him, they all desired to remove\nhis corpse as rapidly as possible from the sight of man. A rude coffin\nwas rapidly prepared, and the body was carefully cased in its boards.\nThey tell me the coffin was carried to the churchyard, but that it was\ntoo light to have contained the body, and that it was followed by a black\npig, which joined the company forming the procession, nobody knew where,\nand disappeared nobody knew when. When they reached the church stile,\na storm, similar in its character to that which heralded the wrecker\u2019s\ndeath, came on. The bearers of the coffin were obliged to leave it\nwithout the churchyard stile and rush into the church for safety. The\nstorm lasted long and raged with violence, and all was as dark as night.\nA sudden blaze of light, more vivid than before, was seen, and those who\nhad the hardihood to look out saw that the lightning had set fire to the\ncoffin, and it was being borne away through the air, blazing and whirling\nwildly in the grasp of such a whirlwind as no man ever witnessed before\nor since.\n\n\nTHE SPECTRE SHIP OF PORTHCURNO.\n\nPorthcurno Cove is situated a little to the west of the Logan Stone.\nThere, as in nearly all the coves around the coast, once existed a\nsmall chapel[51] or oratory, which appears to have been dedicated to St\nLeven. There exists now a little square enclosure about the size of a\n(_bougie_) sheep\u2019s house, which is all that remains of this little holy\nplace. Looking up the valley, (Bottom,) you may see a few trees, with the\nchimney-tops and part of the roof of an old-fashioned house. That place\nis Raftra, where they say St Leven Church was to have been built; but as\nfast as the stones were taken there by day, they were removed by night\nto the place of the present church. (These performances are usually the\nact of the devil, but I have no information as to the saint or sinner\nwho did this work.) Raftra House, at the time it was built, was the\nlargest mansion west of Penzance. It is said to have been erected by the\nTresillians, and, ere it was finished, they appear to have been obliged\nto sell house and lands for less than it had cost them to build the house.\n\nThis valley is in every respect a melancholy spot, and during a period of\nstorms, or at night, it is exactly the place which might well be haunted\nby demon revellers. In the days of the saint from whom the parish has its\nname\u2014St Leven\u2014he lived a long way up from the cove, at a place called\nBodelan, and his influence made that, which is now so dreary, a garden.\nBy his pure holiness he made the wilderness a garden of flowers, and\nspread gladness where now is desolation.\n\nFew persons cared to cross that valley after nightfall; and it is not\nmore than thirty years since that I had a narrative from an inhabitant of\nPenberth, that he himself had seen the spectre ship sailing over the land.\n\nThis strange apparition is said to have been observed frequently, coming\nin from sea about nightfall, when the mists were rising from the marshy\nground in the Bottoms.\n\nOnward came the ill-omened craft. It passed steadily through the breakers\non the shore, glided up over the sands, and steadily pursued its course\nover the dry land, as if it had been water. She is described to have\nbeen a black, square-rigged, single-masted affair, usually, but not\nalways, followed by a boat. No crew was ever seen. It is supposed they\nwere below, and that the hatches were battened down. On it went to\nBodelan, where St Leven formerly dwelt. It would then steer its course to\nChygwiden, and there vanish like smoke.\n\nMany of the old people have seen this ship, and no one ever saw it, upon\nwhom some bad luck was not sure to fall.\n\nThis ship is somehow connected with a strange man who returned from sea,\nand went to live at Chygwiden. It may be five hundred years since\u2014it may\nbe but fifty.\n\nHe was accompanied by a servant of foreign and forbidding aspect, who\ncontinued to be his only attendant; and this servant was never known to\nspeak to any one save his master. It is said by some they were pirates;\nothers make them more familiar, by calling them privateers; while some\ninsist upon it they were American bucaneers. Whatever they may have been,\nthere was but little seen of them by any of their neighbours. They kept\na boat at Porthcurno Cove, and at daylight they would start for sea,\nnever returning until night, and not unfrequently remaining out the whole\nof the night, especially if the weather was tempestuous. This kind of\nsea-life was varied by hunting. It mattered not to them whether it was\nday or night; when the storm was loudest, there was this strange man,\naccompanied either by his servant or by the devil, and the midnight cry\nof his dogs would disturb the country.\n\nThis mysterious being died, and then the servant sought the aid of a\nfew of the peasantry to bear his coffin to the churchyard. The corpse\nwas laid in the grave, around which the dogs were gathered, with the\nforeigner in their midst. As soon as the earth was thrown on the coffin,\nman and dogs disappeared, and, strange to say, the boat disappeared at\nthe same moment from the cove. It has never since been seen; and from\nthat day to this no one has been able to keep a boat in Porthcurno Cove.\n\n\nTHE LADY WITH THE LANTERN.\n\nThe night was dark and the wind high. The heavy waves rolled round the\npoint of \u201cthe Island\u201d into St Ives Bay, as Atlantic waves only can roll.\nEverything bespoke a storm of no ordinary character. There were no ships\nin the bay\u2014not a fishing-boat was afloat. The few small trading vessels\nhad run into Hayle for shelter, or had nestled themselves within that\nvery unquiet resting-place, St Ives pier. The fishing-boats were all high\nand dry on the sands.\n\nMoving over the rocks which run out into the sea from the eastern side of\n\u201cthe Island,\u201d was seen a light. It passed over the most rugged ridges,\nformed by the intrusive Greenstone masses, and over the sharp edges of\nthe upturned slate-rocks, with apparent ease. Forth and back\u2014to and\nfrom\u2014wandered the light.\n\n\u201cHa!\u201d said an old sailor with a sigh, as he looked out over the sea; \u201ca\nsad night! a sad night! The Lady and the Lantern is out.\u201d\n\n\u201cThe Lady and the Lantern,\u201d repeated I; \u201cwhat do you mean?\u201d\n\n\u201cThe light out yonder\u201d\u2014\u2014\n\n\u201cIs from the lantern of some fisherman looking for something he has\nlost,\u201d interrupted I.\n\n\u201cNever a fisherman nor a \u2018salt\u2019 either would venture there to-night,\u201d\nsaid the sailor.\n\n\u201cWhat is it, then?\u201d I curiously inquired.\n\n\u201cHa\u2019ast never heard of the Lady and the Lantern?\u201d asked a woman who was\nstanding by.\n\n\u201cNever.\u201d\n\nWithout any preface, she began at once to enlighten me. I am compelled,\nhowever, to reduce her rambling story to something like order, and to\nmake her long-drawn tale as concise as possible.\n\nIn the year \u2014\u2014 there were many wrecks around the coast. It was a\nmelancholy time. For more than a month there had been a succession of\nstorms, each one more severe than the preceding one. At length, one\nevening, just about dusk, a large ship came suddenly out of the mist. Her\nposition, it was at once discovered, equally by those on board and by the\npeople on the shore, was perilous beyond hope. The sailors, as soon as\nthey saw how near they were to the shore, made every effort to save the\nship, and then to prepare for saving themselves. The tempest raged with\nsuch fury from the west, that the ship parted her anchors at the moment\nher strain came upon them, and she swang round,\u2014her only sail flying into\nribbons in the gale\u2014rushing, as it were, eagerly upon her fate. Presently\nshe struck violently upon a sunken rock, and her masts went by the board,\nthe waves sweeping over her, and clearing her decks. Many perished at\nonce, and, as each successive wave urged her onward, others of the hardy\nand daring seamen were swept into the angry sea.\n\nNotwithstanding the severity of the storm, a boat was manned by the\nSt Ives fishermen, and launched from within the pier. Their perfect\nknowledge of their work enabled them, by the efforts of willing hearts,\nanxiously desiring to succour the distressed, to round the pier-head, and\nto row towards the ship.\n\nThese fishermen brought their boat near to the ship. It was impossible to\nget close to her, and they called to the sailors on board to throw them\nropes. This they were enabled to do, and some two or three of the sailors\nlowered themselves by their aid, and were hauled into the boat.\n\nThen a group appeared on the deck, surrounding and supporting a lady, who\nheld a child in her arms. They were imploring her to give her charge into\nthe strong arms of a man ere they endeavoured to pass her from the ship\nto the boat.\n\nThe lady could not be prevailed on to part with the infant. The ship\nwas fast breaking up, not a moment could be lost. So the lady, holding\nher child, was lowered into the sea, and eagerly the fishermen drew her\nthrough the waves towards the boat.\n\nIn her passage the lady had fainted, and she was taken into the boat\nwithout the infant. The child had fallen from her arms, and was lost in\nthe boiling waters.\n\nMany of the crew were saved by these adventurous men, and taken safely\ninto St Ives. Before morning the shore was strewed with fragments of\nwreck, and the mighty ship had disappeared.\n\nLife returned to the lady; but, finding that her child was gone, it\nreturned without hope, and she speedily closed her eyes in death. In\nthe churchyard they buried her; but, shortly after her burial, a lady\nwas seen to pass over the wall of the churchyard, on to the beach, and\nwalk towards the Island. There she spent hours amidst the rocks, looking\nfor her child, and not finding it, she would sigh deeply and return to\nher grave. When the nights were tempestuous or very dark, she carried a\nlantern; but on fine nights she made her search without a light. The Lady\nand the Lantern have ever been regarded as predictors of disaster on this\nshore.\n\nMay not the Lady Sibella, or Sibbets, mentioned by Mr Blight as passing\nfrom the shore to a rock off Morva, be but another version of this story?\n\n\nTHE DROWNED \u201cHAILING THEIR NAMES.\u201d\n\nThe fishermen dread to walk at night near those parts of the shore where\nthere may have been wrecks. The souls of the drowned sailors appear to\nhaunt those spots, and the \u201ccalling of the dead\u201d has frequently been\nheard. I have been told that, under certain circumstances, especially\nbefore the coming of storms, or at certain seasons, but always at night,\nthese callings are common. Many a fisherman has declared he has heard the\nvoices of dead sailors \u201chailing their own names.\u201d\n\n\nTHE VOICE FROM THE SEA.\n\nA fisherman or a pilot was walking one night on the sands at Porth-Towan,\nwhen all was still save the monotonous fall of the light waves upon the\nsand.\n\nHe distinctly heard a voice from the sea exclaiming,\u2014\n\n \u201cThe hour is come, but not the man.\u201d\n\nThis was repeated three times when a black figure, like that of a man,\nappeared on the top of the hill. It paused for a moment, then rushed\nimpetuously down the steep incline, over the sands, and was lost in the\nsea.\n\nIn different forms this story is told all around the Cornish coast.\n\n\nTHE SMUGGLER\u2019S TOKEN.\n\nUntil about the time of the close of the last French war, a large portion\nof the inhabitants of the south-west coast of Cornwall were in some way\nor other connected with the practice of smuggling. The traffic with the\nopposite coast was carried on principally in boats or undecked vessels.\nThe risks encountered by their crews produced a race of hardy, fearless\nmen, a few of whom are still living, and it has been said that the\nGovernment of those days winked at the infraction of the law, from an\nunwillingness to destroy so excellent a school for seamen. Recently the\ndemand for ardent spirits has so fallen off that there is no longer an\ninducement to smuggle; still it is sometimes exultingly rumoured that,\nthe \u201cCoast Guard having been cleverly put off the scent, a cargo has\nbeen successfully run.\u201d The little coves in the Lizard promontory formed\nthe principal trading places, the goods being taken as soon as landed to\nvarious places of concealment, whence they were withdrawn as required\nfor disposal. About eighty years since, a boat, laden with \u201cankers\u201d of\nspirits, was about, with its crew, to leave Mullion Cove for Newlyn.\nOne of the farmers concerned in the venture, members of whose family\nare still living, was persuaded to accompany them, and entered the boat\nfor the purpose, but, recollecting he had business at Helston, got out\nagain, and the boat left without him. On his return from Helston, late\nin the evening, he sat down, exclaiming, \u201cThe boat and all on board are\nlost! I met the men as I passed the top of Halzaphron, (a very high cliff\non the road,) with their hair and clothes dripping wet!\u201d In spite of the\narguments of his friends, he persisted in his statement. The boat and\ncrew were never more heard of, and the farmer was so affected by the\ncircumstance, that he pined and died shortly after.\n\n\nTHE HOOPER, OR THE HOOTER, OF SENNEN COVE.\n\nThis was supposed to be a spirit which took the form of a band of misty\nvapour, stretching across the bay, so opaque that nothing could be seen\nthrough it. It was regarded as a kindly interposition of some ministering\nspirit, to warn the fishermen against venturing to sea. This appearance\nwas always followed, and often suddenly, by a severe storm. It is seldom\nor ever seen now. One profane old fisherman would not be warned by the\nbank of fog. The weather was fine on the shore, and the waves fell\ntranquilly on the sands; and this aged sinner, declaring he would not be\nmade a fool of, persuaded some young men to join him. They manned a boat,\nand the aged leader, having with him a threshing-flail, blasphemously\ndeclared that he would drive the spirit away; and he vigorously beat the\nfog with the \u201cthreshel\u201d\u2014so the flail is called.\n\nThe boat passed through the fog, and went to sea. A severe storm came on.\nNo one ever saw the boat or the men again; and since that time the Hooper\nhas been rarely seen.\n\n\nHOW TO EAT PILCHARDS.\n\nIt is unlucky to commence eating pilchards, or, indeed, any kind of\nfish, from the head downwards. I have often heard persons rebuked for\ncommitting such a grievous sin, which is \u201csure to turn the heads of the\nfish away from the coasts.\u201d\n\nThe legitimate process\u2014mark this, all fish-eaters\u2014_is to eat the fish\nfrom the tail towards the head_. This brings the fish to our shores, and\nsecures good luck to the fishermen.\n\n\nPILCHARDS CRYING FOR MORE.\n\nWhen there is a large catch of fish, (pilchards,) they are preserved,\u2014put\nin bulk, as the phrase is,\u2014by being rubbed with salt, and placed in\nregular order, one on the other, head and tails alternately, forming\nregular walls of fish.\n\nThe fish often, when so placed, make a squeaking noise; this is called\n\u201ccrying for more,\u201d and is regarded as a most favourable sign. More fish\nmay soon be expected to be brought to the same cellar.\n\nThe noise which is heard is really produced by the bursting of the\nair-bladders; and when many break together, which, when hundreds of\nthousands are piled in a mass, is not unusual, the sound is a loud one.\n\n\nTHE PRESSING-STONES.\n\nThose who are not familiar with the process of \u201ccuring,\u201d (salting)\npilchards for the Italian markets, will require a little explanation to\nunderstand the accompanying story.\n\nThe pilchards being caught in vast quantities, often, amounting to many\nthousand hogsheads at a time, in an enclosing net called a \u201cseine,\u201d are\ntaken out of it\u2014the larger net\u2014in a smaller net, called the \u201ctuck net,\u201d\nand from it loaded into boats and taken to the shore. They are quickly\ntransferred to the fish-sellers, and \u201cput in bulk\u201d\u2014that is, they are well\nrubbed with salt, and carefully packed up\u2014all interstitial spaces being\nfilled with salt\u2014in a pile several feet in height and depth. They remain\nin this condition for about six weeks, when they are removed from \u201cthe\nbulk,\u201d washed, and put into barrels in very regular order. The barrels\nbeing filled with pilchards, pressing-stones,\u2014round masses of granite,\nweighing about a hundredweight,\u2014with an iron hook fixed into them for\nthe convenience of moving, are placed on the fish. By this they are much\ncompressed, and a considerable quantity of oil is squeezed out of them.\nThis process being completed, the cask is \u201cheaded,\u201d marked, and is ready\nfor exportation.\n\nJem Tregose and his old woman, with two sons and a daughter, lived over\none of the fish-cellars in St Ives. For many years there had been a great\nscarcity of fish;[52] their cellar had been empty; Jem and his boys were\nfishermen, and it had long been hard times with them. It is true they\nwent out \u201chook-and-line\u201d fishing now and then, and got a little money.\nThey had gone over to Ireland on the herring-fishing, but very little\nluck attended them.\n\nSummer had passed away, and the early autumn was upon them. The\nseine-boats were out day after day, but no \u201csigns of fish.\u201d One evening,\nwhen the boys came home, Ann Jenny Tregose had an unusual smile upon\nher face, and her daughter Janniper, who had long suffered from the\n\u201cmegrims,\u201d was in capital spirits.\n\n\u201cWell, mother,\u201d says one of the sons, \u201cand what ails thee a\u2019?\u201d\n\n\u201cThe press-stones a bin rolling.\u201d\n\n\u201cHaas they, sure enuff,\u201d says the old man.\n\n\u201cEes! ees!\u201d exclaims Janniper; \u201cthey has been making a skimmage!\u201d\n\n\u201cHark ye,\u201d cries the old woman, \u201cthere they go again.\u201d\n\nAnd sure enough there was a heavy rolling of the stones in the cellar\nbelow them. It did not require much imagination to image these round\ngranite pebbles sliding themselves down on the \u201ccouse,\u201d or stone\nflooring, and dividing themselves up into sets, as if for a dance,\u2014a\nregular \u201ccows\u2019 courant,\u201d or game of romps.\n\n\u201cFish to-morrow!\u201d exclaimed the old woman. The ejaculations of each one\nof the party shewed their perfect faith in the belief, that the stones\nrolling down from the heap, in which they had been useless for some time,\nwas a certain indication that pilchards were approaching the coast.\n\nEarly on the morrow the old man and his sons were on their \u201cstem;\u201d and\nshortly after daylight the cry of \u201cHeva! heva!\u201d[53] was heard from the\nhills; the seine was shot, and ere night a large quantity of fish might\nbe seen in the cellar, and every one joyous.\n\n\nWHIPPING THE HAKE.\n\nIt is not improbable that the saying applied to the people of one of the\nCornish fishing-towns, of \u201cWho whipped the hake?\u201d may be explained by the\nfollowing:\u2014\n\n\u201cLastly, they are persecuted by the hakes, who (not long sithence)\nhaunted the coast in great abundance; but now being deprived of their\nwonted bait, are much diminished, verifying the proverb, \u2018_What we lose\nin hake we shall have in herring_.\u2019\u201d\u2014_Carew, Survey_, p. 34.\n\nAnnoyed with the hakes, the seiners may, in their ignorance, have\nactually served one of those fish as indicated.\n\n\n\n\nDEATH SUPERSTITIONS.\n\n \u201cContinually at my bed\u2019s head\n A hearse doth hang, which doth me tell\n That I ere morning may be dead,\n Though now I feel myself full well.\u201d\n\n ROBERT SOUTHWELL.\n\n\n\n\nDEATH TOKENS AND SUPERSTITIONS.\n\n\nTHE DEATH-TOKEN OF THE VINGOES.\n\n \u201cThe messenger of God\n With golden trumpe I see,\n With many other angels more,\n Which sound and call for me.\n Instead of musicke sweet,\n Go toll my passing bell.\u201d\n\n _The Bride\u2019s Burial._\n\nWhen you cross the brook which divides St Leven from Sennen, you are on\nthe estate of Treville.\n\nTradition tells us that this estate was given to an old family who came\nwith the Conqueror to this country. This ancestor is said to have been\nthe Duke of Normandy\u2019s wine-taster, and that he belonged to the ancient\ncounts of Treville, hence the name of the estate. Certain it is the\nproperty has ever been held without poll deeds. For many generations the\nfamily has been declining, and the race is now nearly, if not quite,\nextinct.\n\nThrough all time a peculiar token has marked the coming death of a\nVingoe. Above the deep caverns in the Treville cliff rises a carn. On\nthis, chains of fire were seen ascending and descending, and often\naccompanied by loud and frightful noises.\n\nIt is said that these tokens have not been seen since the last male of\nthe family came to a violent end.\n\n\nTHE DEATH FETCH OF WILLIAM RUFUS.\n\nRobert, Earl of Moreton, in Normandy,\u2014who always carried the standard of\nSt Michael before him in battle,\u2014was made Earl of Cornwall by William the\nConqueror. He was remarkable for his valour and for his virtue, for the\nexercise of his power, and his benevolence to the priests. This was the\nEarl of Cornwall who gave the Mount in Cornwall to the monks of Mont St\nMichel in Normandy. He seized upon the priory of St Petroc at Bodmin, and\nconverted all the lands to his own use.\n\nThis Earl of Cornwall was an especial friend of William Rufus. It\nhappened that Robert, the earl, was hunting in the extensive woods around\nBodmin\u2014of which some remains are still to be found in the Glyn Valley.\nThe chase had been a severe one; a fine old red deer had baffled the\nhuntsmen, and they were dispersed through the intricacies of the forest,\nthe Earl of Cornwall being left alone. He advanced beyond the shades of\nthe woods on to the moors above them, and he was surprised to see a very\nlarge black goat advancing over the plain. As it approached him, which\nit did rapidly, he saw that it bore on its back \u201cKing Rufus,\u201d all black\nand naked, and wounded through in the midst of his breast. Robert adjured\nthe goat, in the name of the Holy Trinity, to tell what it was he carried\nso strangely. He answered, \u201cI am carrying your king to judgment; yea,\nthat tyrant William Rufus, for I am an evil spirit, and the revenger of\nhis malice which he bore to the Church of God. It was I that did cause\nthis slaughter; the protomartyr of England, St Albyn, commanding me so to\ndo, who complained to God of him, for his grievous oppression in this\nIsle of Britain, which he first hallowed.\u201d Having so spoken, the spectre\nvanished. Robert, the earl, related the circumstance to his followers,\nand they shortly after learned that at that very hour William Rufus had\nbeen slain in the New Forest by the arrow of Walter Tirell.\n\n\nSIR JOHN ARUNDELL.\n\nIn the first year of the reign of Edward IV., the brave Sir John Arundell\ndwelt on the north coast of Cornwall, at a place called Efford, on the\ncoast near Stratton. He was a magistrate, and greatly esteemed amongst\nmen for his honourable conduct. He had, however, in his official\ncapacity, given offence to a wild shepherd, who had by some means\nacquired considerable influence over the minds of the people, under the\nimpression of his possessing some supernatural powers. This man had been\nimprisoned by Arundell, and on his return home he constantly waylaid the\nknight, and, always looking threateningly at him, slowly muttered,\u2014\n\n \u201cWhen upon the yellow sand,\n Thou shalt die by human hand.\u201d\n\nNotwithstanding the bravery of Sir John Arundell, he was not free from\nthe superstitions of the period. He might, indeed, have been impressed\nwith the idea that this man intended to murder him. It is, however,\ncertain that he removed from Efford on the sands, to the wood-clad hills\nof Trerice, and here he lived for some years without the annoyance of\nmeeting his old enemy. In the tenth year of Edward IV., Richard de Vere,\nearl of Oxford, seized St Michael\u2019s Mount. Sir John Arundell, then\nsheriff of Cornwall, gathered together his own retainers and a large host\nof volunteers, and led them to the attack on St Michael\u2019s Mount. The\nretainers of the Earl of Oxford, on one occasion, left the castle, and\nmade a sudden rush upon Arundell\u2019s followers, who were encamped on the\nsands near Marazion. Arundell then received his death-wound. Although he\nleft Efford \u201cto counteract the will of fate,\u201d the prophecy was fulfilled;\nand in his dying moments, it is said his old enemy appeared, singing\njoyously,\u2014\n\n \u201cWhen upon the yellow sand,\n Thou shalt die by human hand.\u201d\n\n\nPHANTOMS OF THE DYING.\n\nA gay party were assembled one afternoon, in the latter days of January,\nin the best parlour of a farmhouse near the Land\u2019s-End. The inhabitants\nof this district were, in many respects, peculiar. Nearly all the land\nwas divided up between, comparatively, a few owners, and every owner\nlived on and farmed his own land.\n\nThis circumstance, amongst others, led to a certain amount of style in\nmany of the old farmhouses of the Land\u2019s-End district; and even now,\nin some of them, from which, alas! the glory has departed, may be seen\nthe evidences of taste beyond that which might have been expected in so\nremote a district.\n\nThe \u201cbest parlour\u201d was frequently panelled with carved oak, and the\nceiling, often highly, though it must be admitted, heavily decorated. In\nsuch a room, in the declining light of a January afternoon, were some ten\nor a dozen farmers\u2019 daughters, all of them unmarried, and many of them\nhaving an eye on the farmer\u2019s eldest son, a fine young man about twenty\nyears of age, called Joseph.\n\nThis farmer and his wife, at the time of which we speak, had three\nsons and two daughters. The eldest son was an excellent and amiable\nyoung man, possessed of many personal attractions, and especially fond\nof the society of his sisters and their friends. The next son was of\na very different stamp, and was more frequently found in the inn at\nChurch-town than in his father\u2019s house; the younger son was an apprentice\nat Penzance. The two daughters, Mary and Honour, had coaxed their mother\ninto \u201ca tea and heavy cake\u201d party, and Joseph was especially retained, to\nbe, as every one said he was, \u201cthe life of the company.\u201d\n\nIn those days, when, especially in those parts, every one took dinner at\nnoon, and tea not much after four o\u2019clock, the party had assembled early.\n\nThere had been the usual preliminary gossip amongst the young people,\nwhen they began to talk about the wreck of a fruit-ship which had\noccurred but a few days before, off the Land\u2019s-End, and it was said that\nconsiderable quantities of oranges were washing into Nangissell Cove.\nUpon this, Joseph said he would take one of the men from the farm, and\ngo down to the cove\u2014which was not far off\u2014and see if they could not find\nsome oranges for the ladies.\n\nThe day had faded into twilight, the western sky was still bright\nwith the light of the setting sun, and the illuminated clouds shed a\ncertain portion of their splendour into the room in which the party were\nassembled. The girls were divided up into groups, having their own pretty\nlittle bits of gossip, often truly delightful from its entire freedom and\nits innocence; and the mother of Joseph was seated near the fireplace,\nlooking with some anxiety through the windows, from which you commanded a\nview of the Atlantic Ocean. The old lady was restless; sometimes she had\nto whisper something to Mary, and then some other thing to Honour. Her\nanxiety, at length, was expressed in her wondering where Joseph could be\ntarrying so long. All the young ladies sought to ease her mind by saying\nthat there were no doubt so many orange-gatherers in the Cove, that\nJoseph and the man could not get so much fruit as he desired.\n\nJoseph was the favourite son of his mother, and her anxiety evidently\nincreased. Eventually, starting from her chair, the old lady exclaimed,\n\u201cOh, here he is; now I\u2019ll see about the tea.\u201d\n\nWith a pleased smile on her face, she left the room, to return, however,\nto it in deeper sorrow.\n\nThe mother expected to meet her son at the door\u2014he came not. Thinking\nthat he might possibly have been wetted by the sea, and that he had gone\nround the house to another door leading directly into the kitchen, for\nthe purpose of drying himself, or of changing his boots, she went into\nthe dairy to fetch the basin of clotted cream,\u2014which had been \u201ctaken up\u201d\nwith unusual care,\u2014to see if the junket was properly set, and to spread\nthe flaky cream thickly upon its surface.\n\nStrange,\u2014as the old lady subsequently related,\u2014all the pans of milk were\nagitated\u2014\u201cthe milk rising up and down like the waves of the sea.\u201d\n\nThe anxious mother returned to the parlour with her basin of cream,\nbut with an indescribable feeling of an unknown terror. She commanded\nherself, and, in her usual quiet way, asked if Joseph had been in. When\nthey answered her \u201cNo,\u201d she sighed heavily, and sank senseless into a\nchair.\n\nNeither Joseph nor the servant ever returned alive. They were seen\nstanding together upon a rock, stooping to gather oranges as they came\nwith each wave up to their feet, when one of the heavy swells\u2014the\nlingering undulations of a tempest, so well known on this coast\u2014came\nsweeping onward, and carried them both away in its cave of waters, as the\nwave curved to ingulf them.\n\nThe undertow of the tidal current was so strong that, though powerful men\nand good swimmers, they were carried at once beyond all human aid, and\nspeedily perished.\n\nThe house of joy became a house of mourning, and sadness rested on it for\nyears. Day after day passed by, and, although a constant watch was kept\nalong the coast, it was not until the fated ninth day that the bodies\nwere discovered, and they were then found in a sadly mutilated state.\n\nOften after long years, and when the consolations derivable from pure\nreligious feeling had brought that tranquillity upon the mind of this\nloving mother,\u2014which so much resembles the poetical repose of an autumnal\nevening,\u2014has she repeated to me the sad tale.\n\nAgain and again have I heard her declare that she saw Joseph, her son, as\ndistinctly as ever she saw him in her life, and that, as he passed the\nparlour windows, he looked in upon her and smiled.\n\nThis is not given as a superstition belonging in any peculiar way to\nCornwall. In every part of the British Isles it exists; but I have never\nmet with any people who so firmly believed in the appearance of the\nphantoms of the dying to those upon whom the last thoughts are centred,\nas the Cornish did.\n\nAnother case is within my knowledge.\n\nA lady, the wife of an officer in the navy, had been with her husband\u2019s\nsister, on a summer evening, to church. The husband was in the\nMediterranean, and there was no reason to expect his return for many\nmonths.\n\nThese two ladies returned home, and the wife, ascending the stairs before\nher sister-in-law, went into the drawing-room\u2014her intention being to\nclose the windows, which, as the weather had been warm and fine, had been\nthrown open.\n\nShe had proceeded about half way across the room, when she shrieked, ran\nback, and fell into her sister-in-law\u2019s arms. Upon recovery, she stated\nthat a figure, like that of her husband, enveloped in a mist, appeared to\nher to fill one of the windows.\n\nBy her friends, the wife\u2019s fancies were laughed at; and, if not\nforgotten, the circumstance was no longer spoken of.\n\nMonth after month glided by, without intelligence of the ship to which\nthat officer belonged. At length the Government became anxious, and\nsearching inquiries were made. Some time still elapsed, but eventually it\nwas ascertained that this sloop of war had perished in a white squall, in\nwhich she became involved, near the Island of Mitylene, in the Grecian\nArchipelago, on the Sunday evening when the widow fancied she saw her\nhusband.\n\n\nTHE WHITE HARE.\n\nIt is a very popular fancy that when a maiden, who has loved not wisely\nbut too well, dies forsaken and broken-hearted, that she comes back to\nhaunt her deceiver in the shape of a white hare.\n\nThis phantom follows the false one everywhere, mostly invisible to all\nbut him. It sometimes saves him from danger, but invariably the white\nhare causes the death of the betrayer in the end.\n\nThe following story of the white hare is a modification of several tales\nof the same kind which have been told me. Many, many years have passed\naway, and all who were in any way connected with my story have slept for\ngenerations in the quiet churchyard of \u2014\u2014.\n\nA large landed proprietor engaged a fine, handsome young fellow to manage\nhis farm, which was a very extensive as well as a high-class one. When\nthe young farmer was duly settled in his new farmhouse, there came to\nlive with him, to take the management of the dairy, a peasant\u2019s daughter.\nShe was very handsome, and of a singularly fine figure, but entirely\nwithout education.\n\nThe farmer became desperately in love with this young creature, and\neventually their love passed all the bounds of discretion. It became the\npolicy of the young farmer\u2019s family to put down this unfortunate passion,\nby substituting a more legitimate and endearing object.\n\nAfter a long trial, they thought they were successful, and the young\nfarmer was married.\n\nMany months had not passed away when the discharged dairy-maid was\nobserved to suffer from illness, which, however, she constantly spoke\nof as nothing; but knowing dames saw too clearly the truth. One morning\nthere was found in a field a newly-born babe strangled. The unfortunate\ngirl was at once suspected as being the parent, and the evidence was soon\nsufficient to charge her with the murder. She was tried, and, chiefly\nby the evidence of the young farmer and his family, convicted of, and\nexecuted for, the murder.\n\nEverything now went wrong in the farm, and the young man suddenly left it\nand went into another part of the country.\n\nStill nothing prospered, and gradually he took to drink to drown some\nsecret sorrow. He was more frequently on the road by night than by day;\nand, go where he would, a white hare was constantly crossing his path.\nThe white hare was often seen by others, almost always under the feet of\nhis horse; and the poor terrified animal would go like the wind to avoid\nthe strange apparition.\n\nOne morning the young farmer was found drowned in a forsaken mine; and\nthe horse, which had evidently suffered extreme terror, was grazing near\nthe corpse. Beyond all doubt the white hare, which is known to hunt the\nperjured and the false-hearted to death, had terrified the horse to such\na degree, that eventually the rider was thrown into the mine-waste in\nwhich the body was found.\n\n\nTHE HAND OF A SUICIDE.\n\nPlacing the hand of a man who has died by his own act is a cure for many\ndiseases.\n\nThe following is given me by a thinking man, living in one of the towns\nin the west of Cornwall:\u2014\n\n\u201cThere is a young man in this town who had been afflicted with running\ntumours from his birth. When about seventeen years of age he had the hand\nof a man who had hanged himself passed over the wounds on his back, and,\nstrange to say, he recovered from that time, and is now comparatively\nrobust and hearty. This incident is true; I was present when the charm\nwas performed. It should be observed that the notion appears to be that\nthe \u2018touch\u2019 is only effectual on the opposite sex; but in this case they\nwere both, the suicide and the afflicted one, of the same sex.\u201d\n\nThis is only a modified form of the superstition that a wen, or any\nstrumous swelling, can be cured by touching it with the dead hand of a\nman who has just been publicly hanged.\n\nI once saw a young woman led on to the scaffold, in the Old Bailey, for\nthe purpose of having a wen touched with the hand of a man who had just\nbeen executed.\n\n\nTHE NORTH SIDE OF A CHURCH.\n\nA strong prejudice has long existed against burying on the northern side\nof the church. In many churchyards the southern side will be found full\nof graves, with scarcely any on the northern side.\n\nI have sought to discover, if possible, the origin of this prejudice,\nbut I have not been able to trace it to any well-defined feeling. I have\nbeen answered, \u201cOh, we like to bury a corpse where the sun will shine on\nthe grave;\u201d and, \u201cThe northern graveyard is in the shadow, and cold;\u201d but\nbeyond this I have not advanced.\n\nWe may infer that this desire to place the remains of our friends in\nearth on which the sun shines, is born of that love which, forgetting\nmortality, lives on the pleasant memories of the past, hoping for that\nmeeting beyond the grave which shall know no shadow. The act of planting\nflowers, of nurturing an evergreen tree, of hanging \u201ceternals\u201d on the\ntomb, is only another form of the same sacred feeling.\n\n\nPOPULAR SUPERSTITIONS.\n\nIt is, or rather was, believed, in nearly every part of the West of\nEngland, that death is retarded, and the dying kept in a state of\nsuffering, by having any lock closed, or any bolt shot, in the dwelling\nof the dying person.\n\nA man cannot die easy on a bed made of fowls\u2019 feathers, or the feathers\nof wild birds.\n\nNever carry a corpse to church by a new road.\n\nWhenever a guttering candle folds over its cooling grease, it is watched\nwith much anxiety. If it curls upon itself it is said to form the \u201chandle\nof a coffin,\u201d and the person towards whom it is directed will be in\ndanger of death.\n\nBituminous coal not unfrequently swells into bubbles, these bubbles of\ncoal containing carburetted hydrogen gas. When the pressure becomes\ngreat they burst, and often throw off the upper section with some\nexplosive force. According to the shape of the piece thrown off, so is\nit named. If it proves round it is a purse of money; if oblong, it is a\ncoffin, and the group towards which it flew will be in danger.\n\nIf a cock crows at midnight, the angel of death is passing over the\nhouse; and if he delays to strike, the delay is only for a short season.\n\nThe howling of a dog is a sad sign. If repeated for three nights, the\nhouse against which it howled will soon be in mourning.\n\nA raven croaking over a cottage fills its inmates with gloom.\n\nThere are many other superstitions and tokens connected with life and\ndeath, but those given shew the general character of those feelings\nwhich I may, I think, venture to call the \u201cinner life\u201d of the Cornish\npeople. It will be understood by all who have studied the peculiarities\nof any Celtic race, that they have ever been a peculiarly impressible\npeople. They have ever observed the phenomena of nature; and they\nhave interpreted them with hopeful feelings, or despondent anxiety,\naccording as they have been surrounded by cheerful or by sorrow-inducing\ncircumstances. That melancholy state of mind, which is so well expressed\nby the word \u201cwhisht,\u201d leads the sufferer to find a \u201csign\u201d or a \u201ctoken\u201d\nin the trembling of a leaf, or in the lowering of the tempest-clouds. A\ncollection of the almost infinite variety of these \u201csigns and tokens\u201d\nwhich still exist, would form a curious subject for an essay. Yet this\ncould only now be done by a person who would skilfully win the confidence\nof the miner or the peasant. They feel that they might subject themselves\nto ridicule by an indiscreet disclosure of the religion of their souls.\nWhen, if ever, such a collection is made, it will be found that these\nsuperstitions have their origin in the purest feelings of the heart\u2014that\nthey are the shadowings forth of love, tinctured with the melancholy dyes\nof that fear which is born of mystery.\n\nOne would desire that even those old superstitions should be preserved.\nThey illustrate a state of society, in the past, which will never again\nreturn. There are but few reflecting minds which do not occasionally feel\na lingering regret that times should pass away during which life was not\na reflection of cold reason.\n\nBut these things must fade as a knowledge of nature\u2019s laws is\ndisseminated amongst the people. Yet there is\u2014\n\n The lonely mountains o\u2019er,\n And the resounding shore,\n A voice of weeping heard, and loud lament;\n From haunted spring and dale,\n Edged with poplar pale,\n The parting genius is, with sighing sent.\n\n\n\n\nOLD USAGES.\n\n \u201cThe king was to his palace, though the service was ydo,\n Yled with his meinie, and the queen to her also;\n For she held _the old usages_.\u201d\n\n ROBERT OF GLOUCESTER.\n\n\n\n\nCUSTOMS OF ANCIENT DAYS.\n\n\nSANDING THE STEP ON NEW YEAR\u2019S-DAY.\n\n \u201cThey say, miracles are past, and we have our philosophical\n persons, to make modern and familiar things supernatural\n and causeless. Hence is it that we make trifles of terrors,\n ensconcing ourselves into seeming knowledge.\u201d\u2014_All\u2019s Well that\n Ends Well_\u2014SHAKESPEARE.\n\nIn the rural districts of Cornwall, it is thought to be unlucky if a\nfemale is the first to enter the house on new-year\u2019s morning. To insure\nthe contrary, it was customary to give boys some small reward for placing\nsand on the door-steps and in the passage.\n\nIn many places, not many years since, droves of boys would march through\nthe towns and villages, collecting their fees for \u201csanding your step for\ngood luck.\u201d\n\nThis custom prevails over most parts of England. I know a lady who, at\nthe commencement of the present year, sent a cabman into her house before\nher, upon promise of giving him a glass of spirits, so that she might\ninsure the good luck which depends upon \u201ca man\u2019s taking the new year in.\u201d\n\n\nMAY-DAY.\n\nThe first of May is inaugurated with much uproar. As soon as the clock\nhas told of midnight, a loud blast on tin trumpets proclaims the advent\nof May. This is long continued. At daybreak, with their \u201ctintarrems,\u201d\nthey proceed to the country, and strip the sycamore-trees (called\nMay-trees) of all their young branches, to make whistles. With these\nshrill musical instruments they return home. Young men and women devote\nMay-day to junketing and pic-nics.\n\nIt was a custom at Penzance, and probably at many other Cornish towns,\nwhen the author was a boy, for a number of young people to sit up until\ntwelve o\u2019clock, and then to march round the town with violins and fifes,\nand summon their friends to the Maying.\n\nWhen all were gathered, they went into the country, and were welcomed at\nthe farmhouses at which they called, with some refreshment in the shape\nof rum and milk, junket, or something of that sort.\n\nThey then gathered the \u201cMay,\u201d which included the young branches of\nany tree in blossom or fresh leaf. The branches of the sycamore were\nespecially cut for the purpose of making the \u201cMay music.\u201d This was done\nby cutting a circle through the bark to the wood a few inches from the\nend of the branch. The bark was wetted and carefully beaten until it was\nloosened and could be slid off from the wood. The wood was cut angularly\nat the end, so as to form a mouth-piece, and a slit was made in both\nthe bark and the wood, so that when the bark was replaced a whistle was\nformed. Prepared with a sufficient number of May whistles, all the party\nreturned to the town, the band playing, whistles blowing, and the young\npeople singing some appropriate song.\n\n\nSHROVE TUESDAY AT ST IVES.\n\nFormerly it was customary for the boys to tie stones to cords, and with\nthese parade the town, slinging these stones against the doors, shouting\naloud,\u2014\n\n \u201cGive me a pancake, now\u2014now\u2014now,\n Or I\u2019ll souse in your door with a row\u2014tow\u2014tow.\u201d\n\nA genteel correspondent assures me \u201cthis is observed now in the lower\nparts of the town only.\u201d\n\n\n\u201cTHE FURRY\u201d\u2014HELSTONE.\n\nThis ancient custom, which consists in dancing through the streets of\nthe town, and entering the houses of rich and poor alike, is thus well\ndescribed:\u2014\n\n \u201cOn the 8th of May, at Helstone, in Cornwall, is held what\n is called \u2018the Furry.\u2019 The word is supposed by Mr Polwhele\n to have been derived from the old Cornish word _fer_, a fair\n or jubilee. The morning is ushered in by the music of drums\n and kettles, and other accompaniments of a song, a great part\n of which is inserted in Mr Polwhele\u2019s history, where this\n circumstance is noticed. So strict is the observance of this\n day as a general holiday, that should any person be found\n at work, he is instantly seized, set astride on a pole, and\n hurried on men\u2019s shoulders to the river, where he is sentenced\n to leap over a wide place, which he, of course, fails in\n attempting, and leaps into the water. A small contribution\n towards the good cheer of the day easily compounds for the\n leap. About nine o\u2019clock the revellers appear before the\n grammar-school, and demand a holiday for the schoolboys, after\n which they collect contributions from houses. They then _fade_\n into the country, (fade being an old English word for _go_,)\n and, about the middle of the day, return with flowers and\n oak-branches in their hats and caps. From this time they dance\n hand in hand through the streets, to the sound of the fiddle,\n playing a particular tune, running into every house they pass\n without opposition. In the afternoon a select party of the\n ladies and gentlemen make a progress through the street, and\n very late in the evening repair to the ball-room. A stranger\n visiting the town on the eighth of May would really think the\n people mad, so apparently wild and thoughtless is the merriment\n of the day. There is no doubt of \u2018the Furry\u2019 originating from\n the \u2018Floralia,\u2019 anciently observed by the Romans on the fourth\n of the calends of May.\u201d\u2014_Every-Day Book._\n\n\nMIDSUMMER SUPERSTITIOUS CUSTOMS.\n\nIf on midsummer-eve a young woman takes off the shift which she has been\nwearing, and, having washed it, turns it wrong side out, and hangs it\nin silence over the back of a chair, near the fire, she will see, about\nmidnight, her future husband, who deliberately turns the garment.\n\nIf a young lady will, on midsummer-eve, walk backwards into the garden\nand gather a rose, she has the means of knowing who is to be her husband.\nThe rose must be cautiously sewn up in a paper bag, and put aside in a\ndark drawer, there to remain until Christmas-day.\n\nOn the morning of the Nativity the bag must be carefully opened in\nsilence, and the rose placed by the lady in her bosom. Thus she must wear\nit to church. Some young man will either ask for the rose, or take it\nfrom her without asking. That young man is destined to become eventually\nthe lady\u2019s husband.\n\n \u201cAt 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 every side,\n And three times in a trembling accent cried,\u2014\n \u2018This hemp-seed with my virgin hand I sow,\n Who shall my true love be, the crop shall mow.\u2019\n I straight look\u2019d back, and, if my eyes speak truth,\n With his keen scythe behind me came the youth.\u201d\n\n _Gay\u2019s Pastorals._\n\nThe practice of sowing hemp-seed on midsummer-eve is not especially a\nCornish superstition, yet it was at one time a favourite practice with\nyoung women to try the experiment. Many a strange story have I been\ntold as to the result of the sowing, and many a trick could I tell of,\nwhich has been played off by young men who had become acquainted with\nthe secret intention of some maidens. I believe there is but little\ndifference in the rude rhyme used on the occasion,\u2014\n\n \u201cHemp-seed I sow,\n Hemp-seed I hoe,\u201d\n\n(the action of sowing the seed and of hoeing it in, must be deliberately\ngone through;)\u2014\n\n \u201cAnd he\n Who will my true love be,\n Come after me and mow.\u201d\n\nA phantom of the true lover will now appear, and of course the maid or\nmaidens retire in wild affright.\n\nIf a young unmarried woman stands at midnight on midsummer-eve in the\nporch of the parish church, she will see, passing by in procession, every\none who will die in the parish during the year. This is so serious an\naffair that it is not, I believe, often tried. I have, however, heard of\nyoung women who have made the experiment. But every one of the stories\nrelate that, coming last in the procession, they have seen shadows of\nthemselves; that from that day forward they have pined, and ere midsummer\nhas again come round, that they have been laid to rest in the village\ngraveyard.\n\n\nCRYING THE NECK.\n\nOwing to the uncertain character of the climate of Cornwall, the farmers\nhave adopted the plan of gathering the sheaves of wheat, as speedily as\npossible, into \u201carish-mows.\u201d These are solid cones from ten to twelve\nfeet high, the heads of the stalks turned inwards, and the whole capped\nwith a sheaf of corn inverted. Whence the term, I know not; but \u201carish\u201d\nis commonly applied to a field of corn recently cut, as, \u201cTurn the geese\nin upon the \u2018arish\u2019\u201d\u2014that is, the short stubble left in the ground.\n\nAfter the wheat is all cut, on most farms in Cornwall and Devon, the\nharvest people have a custom of \u201ccrying the neck.\u201d I believe that this\npractice is seldom omitted on any large farm in these counties. It is\ndone in this way. An old man, or some one else well acquainted with the\nceremonies used on the occasion, (when the labourers are reaping the last\nfield of wheat,) goes round to the shocks and sheaves, and picks out a\nlittle bundle of all the best ears he can find; this bundle he ties up\nvery neat and trim, and plats and arranges the straws very tastefully.\nThis is called \u201cthe neck\u201d of wheat, or wheaten-ears. After the field is\ncut out, and the pitcher once more circulated, the reapers, binders, and\nthe women stand round in a circle. The person with \u201cthe neck\u201d stands in\nthe centre, grasping it with both his hands. He first stoops and holds it\nnear the ground, and all the men forming the ring take off their hats,\nstooping and holding them with both hands towards the ground. They then\nall begin at once, in a very prolonged and harmonious tone, to cry, \u201cThe\nneck!\u201d at the same time slowly raising themselves upright, and elevating\ntheir arms and hats above their heads; the person with the neck also\nraising it on high. This is done three times. They then change their cry\nto \u201cWe yen! we yen!\u201d which they sound in the same prolonged and slow\nmanner as before, with singular harmony and effect, three times. This\nlast cry is accompanied by the same movements of the body and arms as\nin crying \u201cthe neck.\u201d I know nothing of vocal music, but I think I may\nconvey some idea of the sound by giving you the following notes in gamut:\u2014\n\n[Music: _Very slow._\n\nWe yen! we yen!]\n\nLet these notes be played on a flute with perfect _crescendoes_ and\n_diminuendoes_, and perhaps some notion of this wild-sounding cry may be\nformed. Well, after this they all burst out into a kind of loud joyous\nlaugh, flinging up their hats and caps into the air, capering about, and\nperhaps kissing the girls. One of them then gets \u201cthe neck,\u201d and runs as\nhard as he can down to the farmhouse, where the dairy-maid, or one of the\nyoung female domestics, stands at the door prepared with a pail of water.\nIf he who holds \u201cthe neck\u201d can manage to get into the house in any way\nunseen, or openly by any other way than the door at which the girl stands\nwith the pail of water, then he may lawfully kiss her; but, if otherwise,\nhe is regularly soused with the contents of the bucket. I think this\npractice is beginning to decline of late, and many farmers and their\nmen do not care about keeping up this old custom. The object of crying\n\u201cthe neck\u201d is to give notice to the surrounding country of the _end_ of\nthe harvest, and the meaning of \u201cwe yen\u201d is \u201c_we have ended_.\u201d It may\nprobably mean \u201cwe end,\u201d which the uncouth and provincial pronunciation\nhas corrupted into \u201cwe yen.\u201d The \u201cneck\u201d is generally hung up in the\nfarmhouse, where it often remains for three or four years.\n\n\nDRINKING TO THE APPLE-TREES ON TWELFTH NIGHT EVE.\n\nIn the eastern part of Cornwall, and in western Devonshire, it was the\ncustom to take a milk-panful of cider, into which roasted apples had\nbeen broken, into the orchard. This was placed as near the centre of\nthe orchard as possible, and each person, taking a \u201cclomben\u201d cup of the\ndrink, goes to different apple-trees, and addresses them as follows:\u2014\n\n \u201cHealth to the good apple-tree;\n Well to bear, pocketfuls, hatfuls,\n Peckfuls, bushel-bagfuls.\u201d\n\nDrinking part of the contents of the cup, the remainder, with the\nfragments of the roasted apples, is thrown at the tree, all the\ncompany shouting aloud. Another account tells us, \u201cIn certain parts of\nDevonshire, the farmer, attended by his workmen, goes to the orchard this\nevening; and there, encircling one of the best bearing trees, they drink\nthe following toast three times:\u2014\n\n \u2018Here\u2019s to thee, old apple-tree;\n Hence thou mayst bud, and whence thou mayst blow,\n And whence thou mayst bear apples enow!\n Hats full! caps full!\n Bushel, bushel-sacks full!\n And my pockets full, too! Huzza!\u2019\n\nThis done, they return to the house, the doors of which they are sure\nto find bolted by the females, who, be the weather what it may, are\ninexorable to all entreaties to open them, till some one has guessed what\nis on the spit, which is generally some nice little thing difficult to\nbe hit on, and is the reward of him who first names it. The doors are\nthen thrown open, and the lucky clodpole receives the tit-bit as his\nrecompense. Some are so superstitious as to believe that if they neglect\nthis custom, the trees will bear no apples that year.\u201d[54]\n\nChristmas-eve was selected in some parts of England as the occasion for\nwishing health to the apple-tree. Apples were roasted on a string until\nthey fell into a pan of spiced ale, placed to receive them. This drink\nwas called _lamb\u2019s-wool_, and with it the trees were wassailed, as in\nDevonshire and Cornwall.\n\nHerrick alludes to the custom:\u2014\n\n \u201cWassaile the trees, that they may beare\n You many a plum, and many a peare;\n For more or lesse fruits they will bring,\n And you do give them wassailing.\u201d\n\nMay not Shakespeare refer to this?\u2014\n\n \u201cSometimes lurk I in a gossip\u2019s bowl,\n In very likeness of a roasted crab;\n And when she drinks, against her lips I bob,\n And on her wither\u2019d dew-lap pour the ale.\u201d\n\n _Midsummer Night\u2019s Dream._\n\nIn some localities apples are blessed on St James\u2019s-day, July 25.\n\n\nALLHALLOWS-EVE AT ST IVES.\n\nThe ancient custom of providing children with a large apple on\nAllhallows-eve is still observed, to a great extent, at St Ives.\n\u201cAllan-day,\u201d as it is called, is the day of days to hundreds of\nchildren, who would deem it a great misfortune were they to go to bed on\n\u201cAllan-night\u201d without the time-honoured Allan apple to hide beneath their\npillows. A quantity of large apples are thus disposed of, the sale of\nwhich is dignified by the term Allan Market.\n\n\nTHE TWELFTH CAKE.\n\nThe custom, apparently a very ancient one, of putting certain articles\ninto a rich cake, is still preserved in many districts. Usually,\nsixpence, a wedding-ring, and a silver thimble are employed. These are\nmixed up with the dough, and baked in the cake. At night the cake is\ndivided. The person who secures the sixpence will not want money for\nthat year; the one who has the ring will be the first married; and the\npossessor of the thimble will die an old maid.\n\n \u201cThen also every householder,\n To his abilitie\n Doth make a mighty cake, that may\n Suffice his companie:\n Herein a pennie doth he put,\n Before it come to fire;\n This he divides according as\n His household doth require,\n And every peece distributeth\n As round about they stand,\n Which in their names unto the poor\n Is given out of hand.\n But who so chanceth on the peece\n Wherein the money lies,\n Is counted king amongst them all;\n And is with shoutes and cries\n Exalted to the heavens up.\u201d\n\n _Naogeorgus\u2019s Popish Kingdom._\n\n\nOXEN PRAY ON CHRISTMAS EVE.\n\nI remember, when a child, being told that all the oxen and cows kept at\na farm, in the parish of St Germans, at which I was visiting with my\naunt, would be found on their knees when the clock struck twelve. This\nis the only case within my own knowledge of this widespread superstition\nexisting in Cornwall. Brand says, \u201cA superstitious notion prevails in\nthe western parts of Devonshire, that at twelve o\u2019clock at night on\nChristmas-eve, the oxen in their stalls are always found on their knees,\nas in an attitude of devotion; and that, (which is still more singular,)\nsince the alteration of the style, they continue to do this only on the\neve of old Christmas-day. An honest countryman, living on the edge of St\nStephen\u2019s Down, near Launceston, Cornwall, informed me, October 28, 1790,\nthat he once, with some others, made a trial of the truth of the above,\nand, watching several oxen in their stalls at the above time,\u2014at twelve\no\u2019clock at night,\u2014they observed the two oldest oxen only, fall upon their\nknees and, as he expressed it in the idiom of the country, make \u2018a cruel\nmoan, like Christian creatures.\u2019 I could not, but with great difficulty,\nkeep my countenance: he saw, and seemed angry, that I gave so little\ncredit to his tale; and, walking off in a pettish humour, seemed to\n\u2018marvel at my unbelief.\u2019 There is an old print of the Nativity, in which\nthe oxen in the stable, near the Virgin and the Child, are represented\nupon their knees, as in a suppliant posture. This graphic representation\nhas probably given rise to the above superstitious notion on this head.\u201d\n\n\n\u201cST GEORGE\u201d\u2014THE CHRISTMAS PLAYS.\n\nThe Christmas play is a very ancient institution in Cornwall. At one time\nreligious subjects were chosen, but those gave way to romantic plays. The\narrangements were tolerably complete, and sometimes a considerable amount\nof dramatic skill was displayed.\n\n \u201cST GEORGE, and the other tragic performers, are dressed\n out somewhat in the style of morris-dancers, in their shirt\n sleeves and white trousers, much decorated with ribbons and\n handkerchiefs, each carrying a drawn sword in his hand, if they\n can be procured, otherwise a cudgel. They wear high caps of\n pasteboard, adorned with beads, small pieces of looking-glass,\n coloured paper, &c.; several long strips of pith generally hang\n down from the top, with small pieces of different coloured\n cloth strung on them: the whole has a very smart effect.\n\n _Father Christmas_ is personified in a grotesque manner, as an\n ancient man, wearing a large mask and wig, and a huge club,\n wherewith he keeps the bystanders in order.\n\n The _Doctor_, who is generally the merry-andrew of the piece,\n is dressed in any ridiculous way, with a wig, three-cornered\n hat, and painted face.\n\n The other comic characters are dressed according to fancy.\n\n The _female_, where there is one, is usually in the dress worn\n half a century ago.\n\n The _hobby-horse_, which is a character sometimes introduced,\n wears a representation of a horse\u2019s-hide.\n\n Beside the regular drama of \u201cSt George,\u201d many parties of\n mummers go about in fancy dresses of every sort, most commonly\n the males in female attire, and _vice vers\u00e2_.\n\n _Battle of St George._\n\n [_One of the party steps in, crying out_,\u2014\n\n Room, a room, brave gallant, room,\n Within this court\n I do resort,\n To shew some sport\n And pastime,\n Gentlemen and ladies, in the Christmas time.\n\n [_After this note of preparation, Old Father\n Christmas capers into the room, saying_,\u2014\n\n Here comes I, Old Father Christmas,\n Welcome or welcome not;\n I hope Old Father Christmas\n Will never be forgot.\n\n I was born in a rocky country, where there was no wood to make\n me a cradle; I was rocked in a stouring-bowl, which made me\n round shouldered then, and I am round shouldered still.\n\n [_He then frisks about the room, until\n he thinks he has sufficiently amused the\n spectators, when he makes his exit, with this\n speech_:\u2014\n\n Who went to the orchard to steal apples to make gooseberry pies\n against Christmas?\n\n [_These prose speeches, you may suppose, depend\n much upon the imagination of the actor._\n\n _Enter_ Turkish Knight.\n\n Here comes I, a Turkish knight,\n Come from the Turkish land to fight;\n And if St George do meet me here,\n I\u2019ll try his courage without fear.\n\n _Enter_ ST GEORGE.\n\n Here come I, St George,\n That worthy champion bold;\n And, with my sword and spear,\n I won three crowns of gold.\n I fought the dragon bold,\n And brought him to the slaughter;\n By that I gain\u2019d fair Sabra,\n The King of Egypt\u2019s daughter.\n\n _T. K._ St George, I pray, be not too bold;\n If thy blood is hot, I\u2019ll soon make it cold.\n\n _St G._ Thou Turkish knight, I pray, forbear;\n I\u2019ll make thee dread my sword and spear.\n\n [_They fight until the Turkish Knight falls._\n\n _St G._ I have a little bottle, which goes by the name of Elicumpane;\n If the man is alive, let him rise and fight again.\n\n [_The Knight here rises on one knee, and\n endeavours to continue the fight, but is again\n struck down._\n\n _T. K._ Oh, pardon me, St George; oh, pardon me, I crave;\n Oh, pardon me this once, and I will be thy slave.\n\n _St G._ I\u2019ll never pardon a Turkish knight;\n Therefore arise, and try thy might.\n\n [_The Knight gets up, and they again fight,\n till the Knight receives a heavy blow and then\n drops on the ground as dead._\n\n _St G._ Is there a doctor to be found,\n To cure a deep and deadly wound?\n\n _Enter_ Doctor.\n\n Oh yes, there is a doctor to be found,\n To cure a deep and deadly wound.\n\n _St G._ What can you cure?\n\n _Doctor._ I can cure the itch, the palsy, and gout:\n If the devil\u2019s in him, I\u2019ll pull him out.\n\n [_The Doctor here performs the cure with sundry\n grimaces, and St George and the Knight again\n fight, when the latter is knocked down, and\n left for dead._\n\n [_Then another performer enters, and, on seeing\n the dead body, says_,\u2014\n\n Ashes to ashes, dust to dust;\n If Uncle Tom Pearce won\u2019t have him, Aunt Molly must.\n\n [_The hobby-horse here capers in, and takes off\n the body._\n\n _Enter_ Old Squire.\n\n Here comes I, old, Old Squire,\n As black as any friar,\n As ragged as a colt,\n To leave fine clothes for malt.\n\n _Enter_ Hub Bub.\n\n Here comes I, old Hub Bub Bub Bub;\n Upon my shoulders I carries a club,\n And in my hand a frying-pan,\n So am I not a valiant man?\n\n [_These characters serve as a sort of burlesque\n on St George and the other hero, and may be\n regarded in the light of an anti-masque._\n\n _Enter_ the Box-holder.\n\n Here comes I, great head and little wit;\n Put your hand in your pocket, and give what you think fit.\n Gentlemen and ladies, sitting down at your ease,\n Put your hands in your pockets, and give me what you please.\n\n _St G._ Gentlemen and ladies, the sport is almost ended;\n Come pay to the box, it is highly commended.\n The box it would speak, if it had but a tongue;\n Come throw in your money, and think it no wrong.\n\n The characters now generally finish with a dance, or sometimes\n a song or two is introduced. In some of the performances, two\n or three other tragic heroes are brought forward, as the King\n of Egypt and his son, &c.; but they are all of them much in the\n style of that I have just described, varying somewhat in length\n and number of characters.\u201d\u2014_The Every-Day Book._\n\nOf the Cornish mystery plays which were once acted in the famous\n\u201cRounds,\u201d it is not necessary, in this place, to say anything. The\ntranslations by Mr Norris preserve their characteristics, which indeed\ndiffer in few respects from the mystery plays of other parts.\n\nThe \u201cPerran Round\u201d is fortunately preserved by the proprietor in its\noriginal state. Every one must regret the indifference of the wealthy\ninhabitants of St Just to their \u201cRound,\u201d which is now a wretched ruin.\n\n\nGEESE-DANCING\u2014PLOUGH MONDAY.\n\nThe first Monday after Twelfth-day is Plough Monday, and it is the\nploughman\u2019s holiday.\n\nAt this season, in the Islands of Scilly, at St Ives, Penzance, and\nother places, the young people exercise a sort of gallantry called\n\u201cgeese-dancing.\u201d The maidens are dressed up for young men, and the\nyoung men for maidens; and, thus disguised, they visit their neighbours\nin companies, where they dance, and make jokes upon what has happened\nduring the year, and every one is humorously \u201ctold their own,\u201d without\noffence being taken. By this sort of sport, according to yearly custom\nand toleration, there is a spirit of wit and drollery kept up among\nthe people. The music and dancing done, they are treated with liquor,\nand then they go to the next house, and carry on the same sport. A\ncorrespondent, writing to the \u201cTable-Book,\u201d insists on calling these\nrevels \u201cgoose-dancing.\u201d The true Cornishman never uses the term, which\nis, as I have elsewhere shewn, derived from _dance deguiser_,\u2014hence\nguise-dancing, or geese-dancing, by corruption.\n\n\nCHRISTMAS AT ST IVES.\n\n \u201cTHE GUISE-DANCING.\u201d\n\n \u201cWe doubt if there is a spot in \u2018merrie England\u2019 where\n Christmas receives so hearty a welcome, and is \u2018made so much\n of,\u2019 as in the old-fashioned \u2018antient borough of beloved St\n Ives.\u2019 It is often said that \u2018extremes meet;\u2019 but as well\n might we expect the extremities of Britain\u2014John o\u2019Groat\u2019s and\n Cape Cornwall\u2014to meet, as that the frolic-loving descendants\n of Albion will ever imitate the cold, mountain-nurtured\n Caledonians in their observance of Christmas time. For months\n previous to the merry-making time, preparations are made\n for the approaching \u2018carnival;\u2019 we can assure our readers\n that never were the real \u2018carnivals\u2019 ushered in with greater\n festivities at Rome or Venice, in the zenith of their glory,\n than is observed here at Christmas. Were many of the denizens\n of our large towns to witness the making up of the scores\n of \u2018sugar-loaf,\u2019 \u2018three-cocked,\u2019 and indescribable-shaped\n hats, caps, bonnets, bloomer skirts, leggings, jackets, &c.,\n numberless _et ceteras_ of the most grotesque and pantomimic\n character, colour, and shape, which goes on in October and\n November, they would imagine there was to be a _bal masque_\n on a large scale, or a pantomime at \u2018the theatre,\u2019 of\n metropolitan proportions. But not so, for there is not even\n a singing class in the town, if we except the choirs of the\n various congregations, and all \u2018this wilful waste\u2019 of long\n cloth, scarlet, ringstraked, and speckled, is to do honour\n to King Christmas during the twelve nights which intervene\n \u2019twixt the birth of Christmas common and Christmas proper,\n which said outward manifestations of honour are known in the\n neighbourhood as \u2018Christmas geezze-daancing,\u2019 or guise-dancing;\n but of this presently. Not only are the \u2018lovers of pleasure\u2019 on\n the alert, but the choirs of the different places of worship\n strive to \u2018get up\u2019 a piece or two to tickle the ears of their\n hearers on Christmas-night, and the house that boasts the best\n \u2018singing seat\u2019 is sure to be crammed by persons attracted by\n the twofold advantage of a short sermon and a good lively tune.\n A pretty brisk trade is carried on by children in the retailing\n unquenched lime, in small quantities to suit the convenience\n of purchasers; and few are the domiciles but have had a lick\n of the lime brush, either on the wall, window-sill, door-post,\n or chimney. \u2018A slut, indeed,\u2019 is she declared who refuses to\n have a thorough clean out before Christmas. New shoes and\n clothes are worn for the first time on the great holiday; and\n woe betide the unlucky Crispin who, by some unaccountable\n oversight, has neglected to make Jennifer\u2019s bran new shoes, for\n her to go and see how smart the church is on Christmas-day.\n As in other parts of England, a pretty large sum is spent in\n evergreens, such as holly, or, as it is called here, \u2018prickly\n Christmas,\u2019 bays, and laurels. Of mistletoe and cypress there\n is very little in the neighbourhood, and the windows of shops\n and private dwellings, as well as the parish church, are\n profusely and tastefully decorated. As to provisions there\n is no lack. Many a flock of geese has been bespoken, and set\n apart for private customers; whilst the ears of the grocers,\n who generally do a supplementary trade in swine\u2019s flesh, are so\n accustomed to receive a month\u2019s notice for \u2018a nice bit of flea\n (spare) rib,\u2019 that they are loth to engage any of the porcine\n fraternity that are not all rib. The Christmas market is not a\n mean affair at St Ives; if the butchers cannot boast of many\n prize oxen or \u2018South Downs,\u2019 they generally manage to make\n the best of their \u2018home-raised\u2019 and well-fed cattle, and the\n stalls are \u2018titivated off\u2019 nicely too. This year, however, the\n inspector of nuisances, who is also market-toll collector and\n police constable, sergeant, and inspector, actually refused to\n clean, or allow to be cleaned, the St Ives market on Tuesday\n for the Christmas-eve market, because there was no extra tolls\n payable for the Christmas markets, and, as may be expected,\n the epithets bestowed on him were by no means flattering\n or complimentary\u2014we did hear of a suggestion to put the\n \u2018gentleman\u2019 policeman in an aldermanic stall on the 5th of next\n November, or maybe during the guise-dancing. Tradesmen have for\n the most part \u2018cacht their jobs,\u2019 and the good housewife \u2018done\n her churs in season\u2019 on Christmas-eve. In many families, a\n crock of \u2018fish and tatees\u2019 is discussed in West-Cornwall style\n before the \u2018singers\u2019 commence their time-honoured carol, \u2018While\n Shepherds,\u2019 which is invariably sung to \u2018the same old tune,\u2019\n struck by some novice in _u_ flat. There is usually a host of\n young men and maidens to accompany the \u2018singers;\u2019 these are\n composed of the choirs of two or three dissenting bodies, who\n chiefly select the members of their respective congregations\n for the honour of being disturbed from a sound nap on the\n eventful morning. The last two or three years the choirs have\n done their carolling amongst the most respectable of the\n inhabitants on the evening of Christmas-day, after divine\n service.\n\n \u201cOn Christmas-day the mayor, aldermen, and councillors walk in\n procession to church from the house of the mayor for the time\n being. The church is, as we have before remarked, gaily decked\n with evergreens. Two or three days after the singers make a\n call \u2018for something for singing,\u2019 the proceeds, which are\n pretty handsome, being spent in a substantial supper for the\n choir.\n\n \u201cBut of the \u2018guise-dancing,\u2019 which has found a last retreat\n at St Ives,\u2014this is the only town in the country where the\n old Cornish Christmas revelry is kept up with spirit. The\n guise-dancing time is the twelve nights after Christmas,\n _i.e._, from Christmas-day to Twelfth-day. Guise-dancing at St\n Ives is no more nor less than a pantomimic representation or\n _bal masque_ on an extensive scale, the performers outnumbering\n the audience, who in this case take their stand at the corners\n of the streets, which are but badly lighted with gas, and\n rendered still more dismal of late years by the closing of the\n tradesmen\u2019s shops after sunset during this season, on account\n of the noise and uproar occasioned, the town being literally\n given up to a lawless mob, who go about yelling and hooting in\n an unearthly manner, in a tone between a screech and a howl,\n so as to render their voices as undistinguishable as their\n buffoon-looking dresses. Here a Chinese is exhibiting \u2018vite\n mishe\u2019 and \u2018Dutch dops;\u2019 there a turbaned Indian asks you if\n you \u2018vant a silver vatch.\u2019 A little further on you meet with a\n Highlander with \u2018dops to cure the gout.\u2019 The home-impoverishing\n packman, or duffer, has also his representative, urging to be\n allowed just to leave \u2018a common low-price dress at an uncommon\n high price, and a quartern of his 6s. sloe-leaves, of the\n best quality.\u2019 Faithless swains not unfrequently get served\n out by the friends of the discarded one at this time, whilst\n every little peccadillo meets with a just rebuke and exposure.\n About eighteen years ago, a party of youngsters, to give more\n variety to the sports, constructed a few nice representations\n of elephants, horses, and\u2014start not gentle reader\u2014lifelike\n facsimiles of that proverbially stupid brute, the ass. For\n several seasons it was quite a treat to witness the antics\n of the self-constituted elephants, horses, and asses, in the\n thoroughfares of this little town. On the whole, the character\n of the guise-dancing has degenerated very much this last\n twenty years. It was formerly the custom for parties to get\n up a little play, and go from house to house to recite their\n droll oddities, and levy contributions on their hearers in\n the form of cake or plum-pudding. Wassailing, as far as I can\n learn, never obtained much in this neighbourhood. Old Father\n Christmas and bold King George were favourite characters. It\n is not uncommon to see a most odiously-disguised person with\n a bedroom utensil, asking the blushing bystanders if there\n is \u2018any need of me.\u2019 Some of the dresses are, indeed, very\n smart, and even costly; but for the most part they consist of\n old clothes, arranged in the oddest manner, even frightfully\n ugly. It is dangerous for children, and aged or infirm persons,\n to venture out after dark, as the roughs generally are armed\n with a sweeping brush or a shillaly. The uproar at times\n is so tremendous as to be only equalled in a \u2018rale Irish\n row.\u2019 As may be anticipated, these annual diversions have a\n very demoralising influence on the young, on account of the\n licentious nature of the conversation indulged in, though\n we really wonder that there are not many more instances of\n annoyance and insult than now take place, when we consider\n that but for such times as Christmas and St Ives feast, the\n inhabitants have no place of amusement, recreation, or public\n instruction; there being no library, reading-room, institution,\n literary or scientific, or evening class; and unless there is\n one at the National School-room, not a night school or even a\n working-men\u2019s institution is in the town.\n\n \u201cWe should not omit that one of the old customs still observed\n is the giving apprentices three clear holidays (not including\n Sunday) after Christmas-day, though we hear of attempts being\n made to lessen this treat to the youngsters. If we don\u2019t wish\n success to these efforts, we do desire those should succeed who\n will endeavour to impart to our rising population a thorough\n contempt for guise-dancing and all such unmeaning buffoonery.\n There is one thing which must not be overlooked\u2014viz., the few\n drunken brawls that occur at such times. Cases of drunkenness\n certainly occur, but these are far below the average of towns\n of its size, the population being in 1861 (parliamentary\n limits) 10,354.\u201d\u2014_St Ives Correspondent._\n\n\nLADY LOVELL\u2019S COURTSHIP.\n\nBy the especial kindness of one who has a more abundant store of old\nCornish stories than any man whom I have ever met, I am enabled to give\nsome portion of one of the old Cornish plays, or guise-dances. Many parts\nare omitted, as they would, in our refined days, be considered coarse;\nbut as preserving a true picture of a peculiar people, as they were a\ncentury and a half or two centuries since, I almost regret the omissions.\n\n SCENE 1.\u2014_The Squire\u2019s Kitchen\u2014Duffy sitting on the\n chimney-stool\u2014Jane, the housekeeper, half drunk, holding fast\n by the table._\n\n _Jane._ Oh, I am very bad, I must go to bed with the wind in my\n stomach. You can bake the pie, Duffy, and give the Squire his\n supper. Keep a good waking fire on the pie for an hour or more.\n Turn the glass again; when the sand is half down, take the fire\n from the kettle. Mind to have a good blazing fire in the hall,\n for the Squire will be as wet as a shag. The old fool, to stay\n out hunting with this flood of rain! Now, I\u2019ll take a cup of\n still waters, and crawl away to bed.\n\n _Duffy._ Never fear, I\u2019ll bake the pie as well as if you were\n under the kettle along with it; so go to bed, Jane.\n\n [_As soon as Jane turns her back, Huey Lenine\n (Lanyon) comes in with_,\u2014\n\n _Huey._ What cheer, Duffy, my dear? how dost aw get on, then?\n\n _Duffy._ Never the better for thee, I bla, Huey. What do bring\n thee here this time of night?\n\n _Huey._ Why, thee art never the worse, nan, I\u2019m sure. Nor thee\n cussent say that the lanes are longer than the love neither,\n when I\u2019m come a-courting to thee with this rainy weather.\n\n [_Huey places himself on the chimney-stool, at\n a good distance from Duffy._\n\n _D._ Why doesn\u2019t aw come a little nearer then, Huey?\n\n _H._ Near enuff, I bla.\n\n _D._ Nearer the fire, I mean. Why doesn\u2019t aw speak to me then,\n Huey?\n\n _H._ What shall I say, nan?\n\n _D._ Why, say thee dost love me, to be sure.\n\n _H._ So I do.\n\n _D._ That\u2019s a dear. Fine pretty waistcoat on to you, man, Huey.\n\n _H._ Cost pretty money too.\n\n _D._ What did it cost, man?\n\n _H._ Two-and-twenty pence, buttons and all.\n\n _D._ Take good care of en, man.\n\n _H._ So I will.\n\n _D._ That\u2019s a dear.\n\n [_The Squire is heard calling the dogs._\n\n _D._ Dost aw hear? there\u2019s the Squire close to the door. Where\n shall I put thee? Oh, I\u2019m in such a fright. Wouldn\u2019t for the\n world that he found thee here this time of night. Get in the\n wood-corner, quick, out of sight, and I\u2019ll cover thee up with\n the furze.\n\n _H._ No.\n\n _D._ Then jump into the oven. A little more baking will make\n thee no worse.\n\n [_Duffy pushes Huey back into the oven with the\n fire-prong, till he gets out of sight, when the\n Squire comes in, calling_,\u2014\n\n _Squire._ Jane, take the hares and rabbits; be sure hang them\n out of the way of the dogs.\n\n _D._ Give them to me, master; Jane is gone to bed. The wind\n from her stomach is got up in her head, at least so she said.\n\n _S._ Why, who is here, then? I heard thee speaking to some one\n as I opened the door.\n\n _D._ I was driving away a great owl, master, that fell out of\n the ivy-bush on the top of the chimney, and came tumbling down\n through the smoke, perched hisself there on the end of the\n chimney-stack; there he kept blinking and peeping, like a thing\n neither waking nor sleeping, till he heard the dogs barking,\n when he stopped his winking, cried out, \u201cHoo! hoo!\u201d flapped his\n wings, and fled up the chimney the same way he came down.\n\n _D._ Now, master, you had better go up in the hall; you will\n find there a good blazing fire.\n\n [_The Squire examines his legs by the\n fire-light._\n\n _S._ Well, I declare, these are the very best stockings I ever\n had in my life. I\u2019ve been hunting, since the break of day,\n through the bogs and the brambles, the furze and the thorns, in\n all sorts of weather; and my legs,\u2014look, Duffy, look\u2014are still\n as dry and sound as if they had been bound up in leather.\n\n _D._ Then take good care of them, master; for I shall soon have\n a man of my own to knit for. Huey and I are thinking to get\n married before the next turfey season.\n\n _S._ You think of having a man! a young girl like you! If I but\n catch the boy Huey Lenine here, I\u2019ll break his neck I declare.\n I can never wear old Jane\u2019s stockings any more. Why, thee dust\n ought to be proud to know that the people from all over the\n parish, who were never to church before in their lives, come,\n and from parishes round, that they may see my fine stockings.\n And don\u2019t I stop outside the church door\u2014ay, sometimes two\n hours or more\u2014that the women may see thy fine work? Haven\u2019t\n I stopped at the cross till the parson came out to call the\n people in, because he and the clerk, he said, wanted to begin?\n\n [_The Squire places himself beside Duffy on\n the chimney-stool. The devil comes out of\n the wood-corner, and ranges himself behind\n them. Whenever the Squire is backward, the\n devil tickles him behind the ear or under the\n ribs. His infernal highness is supposed to be\n invisible throughout. Huey shews a wry face now\n and then, with clenched fist, through the oven\n door._\n\nThe following portion, which is the Squire\u2019s courtship of Duffy with the\nhelp of the devil, is a sort of duet in the old play. I don\u2019t remember\nthe whole, yet sufficient, I think, to give some idea of the way it is\nintended to be carried out:\u2014\n\n _S._ No; I\u2019ll marry thee myself, rather than Huey Lenine\n Shall ever wear stockings the equal of mine.\n Thou shall have the silk gowns, all broider\u2019d in gold,\n In the old oak chest; besides jewels and rings,\n With such other fine things,\n In the old oak chest, as thee didst never behold.\n _D._ I\u2019d rather work all the day by any young man\u2019s side,\n Than sit in the bower, and be an old man\u2019s bride.\n _S._ Thou shalt have silver and gold, and riches untold.\n _D._ I\u2019ll buy my true love his shirt, rather than your silver and gold,\n With one like yourself, both feeble and old.\n _S._ You must say I\u2019m old; though I\u2019m near sixty,\n I\u2019m stronger still than many a man of twenty.\n Thou shalt ride to church behind me, upon a new pillion,\n As grand as Madam Noy, or Madam Trezillian.\n _D._ O master, hold your flattering tongue;\n I\u2019m very foolish, and very young.\n But\u2014\u2014\n\n [_Here the devil tickles the Squire sharply\n under the ribs, when the Squire attempts to\n hug and kiss Duffy, who takes the fire-prong\n and brandishes it in the Squire\u2019s face. The\n devil tickles them both._\n\n Stand off, keep your distance, and none of your hugging;\n No man shall kiss me till he takes me to church;\n I\u2019ll never cry at Michaelmas for Christmas laughing,\n Like the poor maid left in the lurch.\n\n Look, the sand is all down, the pie is burn\u2019d black,\n And the crust is too hard for your colt\u2019s teeth to crack;\n Up to the hall now, and take your supper.\n\n [_Here Duffy pushes the Squire off the stool.\n The Squire jumps up and begins to dance,\n singing the old dancing tune, \u201cHere\u2019s to the\n devil, with his wooden pick,\u201d &c. Duffy and the\n devil soon join in the dance, and cut all sorts\n of capers, till the Squire dances off to the\n hall, followed by the devil; when Huey crawls\n out of the oven, Duffy opens the kitchen,\n drives Huey out, saying_,\u2014\n\n Now take thyself outside the door,\n And never shew thy face here any more;\n Don\u2019t think I\u2019d have a poor pityack like thee,\n When I may marry a squire of high degree.\n\n [_Then takes up the pie, and dances away.\n During the old pitch-and-pass dance, they beat\n time with the fire-prong and hunting-staff._\n\nSCENE 2.\u2014_The first appearance of Lady Lovell (Duffy) after the wedding.\nShe is seen walking up and down the hall dressed in all sorts of\nill-assorted, old-fashioned finery, that might have been forgotten in the\nold oak chest for many generations of Lovells. The high-heeled shoes,\ntrain, fan, ruff, high tete. All sorts of rings on her fingers, and in\nher ears are de rigeur. Then she sings something like the following_:\u2014\n\n Now I have servants to come at my call,\n As I walk in grand state in the hall,\n Deck\u2019d in silks and satins fine;\n But I grieve all the day, and fret the long night away,\n To think of my true love, young Huey Lenine.\n\n Many a weary long hour I sit all alone in my bower,\n Where I do nothing but pine,\n Whilst I grieve all the day, and fret the night away,\n To think of my true love, young Huey Lenine.\n Would the devil but come at my call, and take the old Squire, silks,\n satins, and all,\n With jewels and rings so fine;\n Then merry and gay I\u2019d work all the day, and pass the night away,\n Kissing my true love, young Huey Lenine.\n\nAnother Cornish \u201cDroll\u201d is preserved, in part, as an example of the kind\nof doggerel verse in which many of those stories were told.\n\nBet of the Mill tells the Squire and company that, one Christmas night,\nall the inmates of Trevider House were gone off to a guise-dance, except\nMadam Pender and herself, and that they agree to spin for pastime:\u2014\n\n \u201cOne Christmas night, from Trevider Hall,\n They were off in a guise-dance, big and small;\n Nobody home but Madam Pender and I.\n So to pass away time we agreed to try\n Which would spin the finest yarn,\n The length of the hall,\n While the holly and bays\n Deck\u2019d window and wall.\n\n \u201cWe took the rushes up from the floor,\n From up by the chimney down to the door.\n When we had the wool carded, ready to spin,\n It came into our heads, before we\u2019d begin,\n We\u2019d have a jug of hot-spiced beer,\n To put life in our heels, our hearts to cheer.\n So we drank to the healths of one and all,\n While the holly and bays\n Look\u2019d bright on the wall.\n\n \u201cThe night was dark, the wind roar\u2019d without,\n And whirl\u2019d the cold snow about and about.\n But the best part of that night,\n By the bright fire-light,\n While the Christmas stock did burn,\n We danced forth and back as light as a feather,\n Spinning and keeping good time together,\n To the music of the \u2018turn.\u2019[55]\n And we never felt weary that night at all,\n While the holly and bays\n Hung so gay on the wall.\n\n \u201cWe pull\u2019d out the yarn as even and fine,\n As a spinner can spin the best of twine:\n All the length of the hall,\n From window to wall,\n From up by the chimney\n Down to the door,\u2014\n Full a dozen good paces and more;\n And never felt weary at all,\n While the holly and bays\n Were so green on the wall.\n At the turn of the night,\n Old Nick, out of spite,\n To see the log burn,\n And to hear the gay \u2018turn,\u2019\n Made my yarn to crack;\n And I fell on my back,\n Down the steps of the door.\n I thought I was dead, or, twice as bad,\n Should never be good any more.\n If I had broken my bones on the cursed hard stones,\n \u2019Twas no wonder.\n But, worst of all, with the force of the fall,\n My twadling-string burst asunder.\n\n ...\n\n Old madam was seized with frights and fears,\u2014\n She thought the house falling about her ears;\n And, to save herself, she tore up-stairs,\n Where they found her next morning under the bed,\n With the brandy-bottle close to her head.\u201d\n\nBet is found in a similar plight, and all is attributed to spinning;\nhowever, the Squire orders that Madam Pender shall spin no more,\u2014\n\n \u201cAnd dance, one and all,\n With the holly and bays so bright on the wall.\u201d\n\n\nTHE GAME OF HURLING.\n\nThe game of \u201cHurling\u201d was, until a recent period, played in the parishes\nto the west of Penzance on the Sunday afternoon. The game was usually\nbetween two parishes, sometimes between Burian and Sancreed, or against\nSt Leven and Sennen, or the higher side of the parish played against the\nlower side.\n\nThe run was from Burian Cross in the Church-town, to the Pipers in\nBoloeit. All the gentry from the surrounding parishes would meet at\nBoloeit to see the ball brought in.\n\n\u201cHurling matches\u201d are peculiar to Cornwall. They are trials of skill\nbetween two parties, consisting of a considerable number of men, forty\nto sixty a side, and often between two parishes. These exercises have\ntheir name from \u201churling\u201d a wooden ball, about three inches in diameter,\ncovered with a plate of silver, which is sometimes gilt, and has commonly\na motto, \u201cGware wheag yeo gware teag,\u201d \u201cFair play is good play.\u201d The\nsuccess depends on catching the ball dexterously when thrown up, or\n_dealt_, and carrying it off expeditiously, in spite of all opposition\nfrom the adverse party; or, if that be impossible, throwing it into the\nhands of a partner, who, in his turn, exerts his efforts to convey it to\nhis own goal, which is often three or four miles\u2019 distance. This sport,\ntherefore, requires a nimble hand, a quick eye, a swift foot, and skill\nin wrestling; as well as strength, good wind, and lungs. Formerly it was\npractised annually by those who attended corporate bodies in surveying\nthe bounds of parishes; but from the many accidents that usually attended\nthat game, it is now scarcely ever practised. Silver prizes used to be\nawarded to the victor in the games. A correspondent at St Ives, writes:\u2014\n\nHurling the Silver Ball.\u2014This old custom is still observed at St Ives.\nThe custom is also kept up at St Columb and St Blazey, on the anniversary\nof the dedication of the church. St Ives\u2019 feast is governed by the\nCandlemas-day, it being the nearest Sunday next before that day. On the\nMonday after, the inhabitants assemble on the beach, when the ball,\nwhich is left in the custody of the mayor for the time being, is thrown\nfrom the churchyard to the crowd. The sides are formed in this way,\u2014\n\n Toms, Wills, and Jans,\n Take off all\u2019s on the san\u2019s\u2014\n\nthat is, all those of the name of Thomas, John, or William are ranged\non one side, those of any other _Christian_ name on the other; of late\nyears the odd names outnumber the Toms, Wills, and Jans. There is a pole\nerected on the beach, and each side strives to get the oftenest at the\n\u201cgoold,\u201d _i.e._, the pole; the other side as manfully striving to keep\nthem out, and to send their opponents as great a distance from the pole\nas possible. The tradition is, that the contest used to be between the\nparishes of Ludgvan, Lelant, and St Ives,\u2014St Ives then being part of\nthe _living_ of Ludgvan,\u2014and that they used to have a friendly hurling\nat Ludgvan, and that afterwards the contest was between Lelant and St\nIves. A stone near to Captain Perry\u2019s house is shewn, where the two\nparishes used to meet at the feast, and the struggle was to throw the\nball into the parish church, the successful party keeping the ball, the\nunsuccessful buying a new one. St Ives is said to have outnumbered the\nLelant folks, so that they gave up the contest, and the ball was left\nwith St Ives. Thus much is certain\u2014that the feasts of St Ives, Lelant,\nand Ludgvan fall properly on one Sunday, though a misunderstanding has\narisen, Lelant claiming to be governed by the day before Candlemas-day,\nwhich will alter the three every seven years.\n\nThe game of hurling is now but rarely played, and the Sabbath is never\nbroken by that or by any other game.\n\n\nSHAM MAYORS.\n\n\nI.\u2014THE MAYOR OF MYLOR.\n\nThere was a curious custom in the town of Penryn in Cornwall, which long\noutlived all modern innovations. On some particular day in September or\nOctober, (I forget the exact date,) about when the hazel-nuts are ripe,\nthe festival of nutting-day is kept. The rabble of the town go into the\ncountry to gather nuts, returning in the evening with boughs of hazel\nin their hands, shouting and making a great noise. In the meantime the\njourneymen tailors of the town have proceeded to the adjoining village\nof Mylor, and elected one of their number \u201cMayor of Mylor,\u201d taking care\nthe selection falls on the wittiest. Seated in a chair shaded with green\nboughs, and borne on the shoulders of four stalwart men, the worthy\nmayor proceeds from his \u201cgood town of Mylor\u201d to his \u201cancient borough\nof Penryn,\u201d the van being led by the \u201cbody-guard\u201d of stout fellows\nwell armed with cudgels,\u2014which they do not fail to use should their\npath be obstructed,\u2014torch-bearers, and two \u201ctown serjeants,\u201d clad in\nofficial gowns and cocked hats, and carrying each a monstrous cabbage\non his shoulder in lieu of a mace. The rear is brought up by the rabble\nof the \u201cnutters.\u201d About mid-day a band of music meets them, and plays\nthem to Penryn, where they are received by the entire population. The\nprocession proceeds to the town-hall, in front of which the mayor\ndelivers a speech, declaratory of his intended improvements, &c., for\nthe coming year, being generally an excellent sarcastic burlesque on\nthe speeches of parliamentary candidates. The procession then moves on\nto each public-house door, where the mayor, his council, and officers\nare liberally supplied with liquor, and the speech is repeated with\nvariations. They then adjourn to the \u201ccouncil-chamber,\u201d in some\npublic-house, and devote the night to drinking. At night the streets are\nfilled with people bearing torches, throwing fireballs, and discharging\nrockets; and huge bonfires are kindled on the \u201cGreen,\u201d and \u201cOld Wall.\u201d\nThe legal mayor once made an effort to put a stop to this Saturnalia, but\nhis new-made brother issued prompt orders to his body-guards, and the\n_posse comitatus_ had to fly.\n\nThe popular opinion is, that there is a clause in the borough charter\ncompelling the legitimate mayor to surrender his power to the \u201cMayor\nof Mylor\u201d on the night in question, and to lend the town sergeants\u2019\nparaphernalia to the gentlemen of the shears.\n\n\nII.\u2014THE MAYOR OF ST GERMANS.\n\nOne of the first objects that attracts attention on entering the village\nof St Germans is the large walnut-tree, at the foot of what is called\nNut-Tree Hill. In the early part of the present century there was a very\nancient dwelling a few yards south-east of this tree, which was supposed\nto have been the residence of some ecclesiastic of former times. Many\na gay May fair has been witnessed by the old tree; in the morning of\nthe 28th of the month splendid fat cattle, from some of the largest and\nbest farms in the county, quietly chewed the cud around its trunk; in\nthe afternoon the basket-swing dangled from its branches, filled with\nmerry laughing boys and girls from every part of the parish. On the\nfollowing day, the mock mayor, who had been chosen with many formalities,\nremarkable only for their rude and rough nature, starting from some\n\u201cbush-house,\u201d where he had been supping too freely of the fair ale, was\nmounted on wain or cart, and drawn around it, to claim his pretended\njurisdiction over the ancient borough, until his successor was chosen at\nthe following fair. Leaving the old nut-tree, which is a real ornament\nto the town, we pass by a stream of water running into a large trough, in\nwhich many a country lad has been drenched for daring to enter the town\non the 29th of May without the leaf or branch of oak in his hat.\n\n\nIII.\u2014THE MAYOR OF HALGAVER MOOR.\n\nThe people of Bodmin had an old custom of assembling in large numbers on\nHalgaver Moor in the month of July, and electing a \u201cMayor of Misrule,\u201d\nfor the punishment of petty offenders. Our old historian gives a quaint\ndescription. \u201cThe youthlyer sort of Bodmin townsmen use sometimes to\nsport themselves by playing the box with strangers, whom they summon to\nHalgaver; the name signifieth the Goats\u2019 Moore, and such a place it is,\nlying a little without the town, and very full of quagmires. When these\nmates meet with any raw serving-man or other young master, who may serve\nand deserve to make pastime, they cause him to be solemnly arrested for\nhis appearance before the Mayor of Halgaver, where he is charged with\nwearing one spur, or wanting a girdle, or some such like felony, and\nafter he hath been arraigned and tried with all requisite circumstances,\njudgment is given in formal terms, and executed in some one ungracious\nprank or other, more to the scorn than hurt of the party condemned. Hence\nis sprung the proverb, when we see one slovenly apparelled, to say, \u2018He\nshall be presented in Halgaver Court.\u2019\u201d\n\n\nTHE FACTION FIGHT AT CURY GREAT TREE.\n\nOn a green knoll in the centre of the intersection of the roads from\nHelston to the Lizard, and Mawgan to Cury, flourished an ash-tree of\nmagnificent dimensions. The peculiarity of its position, together with\nits unusual size, in the midst of a district singularly destitute of\ntrees, rendered it famous throughout the surrounding neighbourhood; and\nin designating a special locality, reference was, and still continues\nto be, made to \u201cCury Great Tree,\u201d as a position generally known. During\nthe last fifty years the tree has been gradually decaying, and at\npresent only a portion of the hollow trunk remains, which is rapidly\ndisappearing. It stands about half way up a gentle rise facing the north;\nand in passing over the road, the country people speak of a dim tradition\nof a time when the \u201croad ran with blood.\u201d The occasion of this, which is\nalmost forgotten, was a faction fight, on a large scale, between the men\nof the parishes of Wendron and Breage, happening about a hundred years\nsince. A wreck took place near the Lizard, and the Wendron-men being\nnearest, were soon upon the spot to appropriate whatever flotsam and\njetsam might come in their way. Returning laden with their spoils, they\nwere encountered at the Great Tree by the Wendron-men bound on a similar\nerrand, and a fight, as a matter of course, ensued, which was prolonged\ntill the following day. The contest is said to have been a most terrible\none, each party being armed with staves. The savage nature of the fight\nmay be inferred from the following fact:\u2014A Wendron-man named Gluyas,\nhaving been disabled, was put upon the top of the roadside hedge, out of\nthe _m\u00eal\u00e9e_, when he was seen by a Breage termagant known as \u201cPrudy the\nWicked,\u201d and by her quickly dragged into the road, \u201cPrudy\u201d exclaiming,\n\u201cEf thee artn\u2019t ded, I make thee,\u201d suiting the action to the word by\nstriking Gluyas with her patten iron until he was dead. There is some\naccount of Prudy\u2019s having been taken before the \u201cJustice,\u201d but she does\nnot appear to have been punished. These fights between parishes were so\ncommon in those days that any death occurring in the fray was quietly\npassed over as a thing of course, and soon forgotten. \u201cSo late as thirty\nyears since it was unsafe to venture alone through the streets of the\nlower part of this town (Helston) after nightfall on a market-day, owing\nto the frays of the Breage, Wendron, and Sithney men.\u201d So writes a friend\nresiding in Helston.\n\n\nTOWEDNACK CUCKOO FEAST.\n\nThe parish feast takes place on the nearest Sunday to the 28th of April.\n\nIt happened in very early times, when winters extended further into the\nspring than they now do, that one of the old inhabitants resolved to be\njovial notwithstanding the inclemency of the season; so he invited all\nhis neighbours, and to warm his house he placed on the burning faggots\nthe stump of a tree. It began to blaze, and, inspired by the warmth and\nlight, they began to sing and drink; when, lo, with a whiz and a whir,\nout flew a bird from a hollow in the stump, crying, Cuckoo! cuckoo! The\nbird was caught and kept by the farmer, and he and his friends resolved\nto renew the festal meeting every year at this date, and to call it their\n\u201ccuckoo feast.\u201d Previous to this event Towednack had no \u201cfeasten Sunday,\u201d\nwhich made this parish a singular exception to the rule in Cornwall.\n\nThis feast is sometimes called \u201ccrowder\u201d feast, because the fiddler\nformed a procession at the church door, and led the people through the\nvillage to some tune on his \u201ccrowd.\u201d\n\n\nTHE DUKE OF RESTORMEL.\n\nA very singular custom formerly prevailed at Lostwithiel, in Cornwall,\non Easter Sunday. The freeholders of the town and manor having assembled\ntogether, either in person or by their deputies, one among them, each\nin his turn, gaily attired and gallantly mounted, with a sceptre in his\nhand, a crown on his head, and a sword borne before him, and respectfully\nattended by all the rest on horseback, rode through the principal street\nin solemn state to the church. At the churchyard stile, the curate, or\nother minister, approached to meet him in reverential pomp, and then\nconducted him to church to hear divine service. On leaving the church, he\nrepaired, with the same pomp and retinue, to a house previously prepared\nfor his reception. Here a feast, suited to the dignity he had assumed,\nawaited him and his suite; and, being placed at the head of the table,\nhe was served, kneeling, with all the rites and ceremonies that a real\nprince might expect. This ceremony ended with the dinner; the prince\nbeing voluntarily disrobed, and descending from his momentary exaltation,\nto mix with common mortals. On the origin of this custom but one opinion\ncan be reasonably entertained, though it may be difficult to trace the\nprecise period of its commencement. It seems to have originated in the\nactual appearance of the prince, who resided at Restormel Castle in\nformer ages; but, on the removal of royalty, this mimic grandeur stepped\nforth as its shadowy representative, and continued for many generations\nas a memorial to posterity of the princely magnificence with which\nLostwithiel had formerly been honoured.[56]\n\nThis custom is now almost forgotten, and Lostwithiel has little to\ndisturb its quiet.\n\n\n\n\nPOPULAR SUPERSTITIONS.\n\n \u201cThe carrion crow, that loathsome beast,\n Which cries against the rain,\n Both for her hue, and for the rest,\n The devil resembleth plain.\n And as with guns we kill the crow\n For spoiling our relief,\n The devil so must we o\u2019erthrow\n With gunshot of belief.\u201d\n\n GEORGE GASCOIGNE.\n\n\n\n\nCHARMING, PROPHETIC POWER, ETC.\n\n\nCHARMING, AND PROPHETIC POWER.\n\n \u201cLate, late yestreen I saw the new moone\n Wi\u2019 the auld moone in her arme;\n And I feir, I feir, my dear master,\n That we will com to harme.\u201d\n\n SIR PATRICK SPENCE.\n\nI cannot more appropriately preface this section, than by quoting the\nremarks of a medical gentleman in large practice, on the subject of\ncharms:\u2014\u201cIn common with most of the lower classes of the West of England,\nthe miner is not free from many absurd superstitions, (though I am glad\nto observe, even in the last few years, a great change has taken place,\nand such follies are gradually declining.) Some think themselves endowed\nwith a species of supernatural agency, and, like the Egyptian alluded to\nby Othello, call themselves charmers, and profess to stop the flowing\nof blood, (no matter from what cause\u2014a divided artery even,) to remove\nspecks from the cornea, (which, in the dialect of the country, are\ncalled canons!) and cure erysipelas, by charming. But I have never been\nable to ascertain by what means the charm is supposed to work. I only\nknow that it is an everyday occurrence for mothers to bring children\nto the surgery, afflicted with either of the diseases mentioned, and\nsay that they have had them charmed; but they were no better, such\nwant of improvement having obviously excited the greatest feelings of\nastonishment. I knew a person connected with the mines, who felt himself\nendowed with prophetic powers; and in his case the divination was not\nconfined to events momentous and terrible, but extended to the most\ntrifling minuti\u00e6 of life.\n\n\u201cHe with grave simplicity told me one day, by way of exemplifying the\nproper estimation in which his prophetic powers were held by his wife,\nthat on one occasion, his pig having wandered from his sty, she came to\nhim to ascertain in what direction it was to be sought for; and on his\nprofessing utter ignorance of the animal\u2019s peregrinations, she exclaimed,\nin reproachful tones, \u2018_Ah, you are not so pious as you used to be. I\nremember the time when you could have told me in an instant the exact\nspot to have found it_.\u2019\u201d[57]\n\n\nFORTUNE-TELLING, CHARMS, ETC.\n\nIn relation to this subject, and confirming an opinion already expressed\nin the existence still of a belief in magic and charms, I print the\nfollowing communication from a lady of considerable literary ability:\u2014\n\n\u201cEvery country, it may be safely inferred, has its own individual,\nperhaps characteristic, Charm-record; and inquiry into it would more\nthan probably recompense the labour, by the light it would let in on\nthe still but little investigated philosophy of the human mind, and the\ngrowth of popular superstitions. The portion of our country best known to\nthe writer of these remarks is Cornwall, remarkable for the picturesque\nwildness of its scenery, and not less so for its numerous superstitions.\nThe Rev. Charles Kingsley, in his \u2018Yeast,\u2019 has availed himself, with\nhis usual tact and power, of one of the most striking of these, having\nreference to the cruel treatment of the Jews, who were sold as slaves\nto work in the mines; the evil treatment they experienced being avenged\non modern miners, by the terrors the souls of the departed Hebrews\ninflicted, in returning to the scene of their former compulsory toil,\nand echoing the sounds of the workmen now labouring in flesh and blood.\nBut this is a digression from the main object of this article\u2014viz.,\nthe belief in charms. Several years ago, while residing at Falmouth, I\nremember to have heard of a man in humble life, named Thomas Martin,\nwhose abode was said to be at a village in the neighbourhood of Redruth,\nand who accomplished wonderful cures of children subject to fits, or\npersonally injured by any deformity, by his power of charming. This\nman also practised soothsaying to a considerable extent, and revealed,\nwith unquestionable accuracy, where articles mysteriously abstracted\nwere concealed. If a cow suddenly lost her milk, whether witchcraft\nhad exerted its malignant influence on the non-producing animal or no,\nsuch a personage could not but exercise an important power over the\nrustic population of the neighbourhood. But belief in the mysterious\nintelligence of Martin was by no means confined to the peasant class.\nA highly-respected and even ladylike person told the writer, with all\nthe gravity becoming such a communication, that she had once made an\nappointment with Thomas Martin to meet him at a certain stile, for the\npurpose of receiving from him the prediction of her future lot,\u2014in\nother words, having her fortune told; and hastening thither at the time\nappointed, was horrified to find the stile occupied by a large black\nsnake. As Martin did not make his appearance, she inferred that he had\nassumed the serpent form, and not being disposed to hold any intercourse\nwith a being of such questionable exterior, she hastened away,\ndetermined never more to risk the attainment of the knowledge she coveted\nthrough a probably diabolic channel.\n\n\u201cThis anecdote is given as veritable experience of the belief which\nmay prevail in a mind fairly intelligent, and generally rational in\nconducting the ordinary business of life.\n\n\u201cMartin\u2019s reputation was disputed by no one, and that it continued\nunimpaired to the close of his life reflects no inconsiderable credit on\nthe shrewdness and sagacity of his mind and his power of guessing.\n\n\u201cIn the town where the writer has been residing for the last four\nmonths, there is a female, advanced in years and of good character, who,\naccording to the report of many persons,\u2014one a relative of her own,\u2014is\npeculiarly endowed with the power of charming away the disease called the\n\u201ckennel,\u201d an affection of the eye, which causes extreme pain. A young\nlady\u2019s father was one evening suffering severe pain in the right eye, and\nafter trying various remedies without effect, (the agony having greatly\nincreased,) in her despair she sought an occasion to leave the house, and\nhastened at once to the abode of the charmer. She told her errand to the\nwoman, who said that many had come to her for the purpose of ridiculing\nher, and she did not like to say anything about charming\u2014she did not wish\nto be laughed at. On this the young lady assured her that her object\nin true faith was to obtain relief for her suffering father, and by no\nmeans to indulge the spirit of ridicule. On this representation she was\nsatisfied, and desired to know the _kind_ of kennel which affected the\ngentleman\u2019s eye. This information the daughter was unable to give her,\nbeing unacquainted with their peculiarities; \u2018because,\u2019 said the charmer,\n\u2018there are nine kinds of kennels,\u2019 intimating at the same time that a\ndifferent charm might be said or applied to each,\u2014so that, to avoid\nomitting any, she must say the charms for all, in order that the one\nespecially affecting the diseased eye should be certainly included in the\ncharm. She went up-stairs, and remained about half an hour. On her return\nshe addressed the young lady, and told her she might go home, where she\nwould learn whether the eye had been relieved. She took no money for\nher incantation. Any little present might be offered at a subsequent\nvisit, but no direct payment was ever requested, and indeed would have\nbeen declined. The amazement and pleasure of the anxious daughter, on\nher arrival at home, will be imagined, on learning from her father that\nthe intense pain in the eye had ceased during her absence, though he had\nnot been made acquainted with her errand. The influence of the faith\nof another, in this case, on the relief of the afflicted person, has\nno verisimilitude save with that of the father of the demoniac in the\ngospel, or the removal of the son\u2019s fever in consequence of the faith\nof the father. I have no reason whatever to question the truth of this\nstory, which was confirmed by the wife of the gentleman thus relieved.\n\n\u201cA still more curious instance of the effect of charm, though quite of\nanother character, was related to me by the same party. The gentleman\nreferred to being much afflicted with cramp, his wife was earnestly\nadvised, by a country woman to whom she mentioned the circumstance, to\nrequest her husband to place his slippers, with the toes turned upward,\nat the foot of the bed. Half smiling at the wise counsel, yet perhaps not\naltogether incredulous, he followed the good woman\u2019s advice, and to his\ngreat comfort found himself unaffected by his dreaded enemy throughout\nthe night. His faith being thus established in the _anti-cramp_ influence\nof upturned slippers, he took care to place them, or to have them\nplaced, in the prescribed attitude on several successive nights. One\nnight, however, he was again seized with some appalling twinges, and\nbethinking himself of the cause, suddenly recollected that in hastening\ninto bed he had not observed the important rule; instantly he had the\nslippers restored to their proper position, and, to his astonishment and\ndelight, the pain ceased, and visited him no more. After this experience\nof the wonderful effects that followed so simple a specific, it may be\neasily imagined that he did not again risk the return of the cramp from\nneglecting it. Such phenomena seem beyond the power of explanation on\nany known medical principles. If any one more than usually versed in\nthe subtle power exercised on the body by the mind, can throw light on\nthe _slipper_ cure of the cramp, he will deserve much at the hands of\nphysiological and mental science.\u201d\n\n S. E. M.\n\n\nTHE ZENNOR CHARMERS.\n\nBoth men and women in this parish possessed this power to a remarkable\ndegree. They could stop blood, however freely it might be flowing. \u201cEven\nshould a pig be sticked in the very place, if a charmer was present,\nand _thought_ of his charm at the time, the pig would not bleed.\u201d This\nstatement, made by a Zennor-man, shews a tolerably large amount of faith\nin their power. The charmers are very cautious about communicating\ntheir charms. A man would not on any account tell his charm to a\nwoman, or a woman communicate hers to a man. People will travel many\nmiles to have themselves or their children charmed for \u201cwildfires,\u201d\n(erysipelas,) ringworms, pains in the limbs or teeth, \u201ckennels\u201d on the\neyes, (ulcerations.) A correspondent writes me:\u2014\u201cNear this lives a lady\ncharmer, on whom I called. I found her to be a really clever, sensible\nwoman. She was reading a learned treatise on ancient history. She told\nme there were but three charmers left in the west,\u2014one at New Mill, one\nin Morva, and herself.\u201d Their charm for stopping blood is but another\nversion of one given on another page.\n\n \u201cChrist was born in Bethlehem;\n Baptized in the river Jordan.\n The river stood,\u2014\n So shall thy blood,\n _Mary Jane Polgrain_, [_or whatever the person may be called_,]\n In the name of the Father,\u201d &c.\n\n\nJ\u2014\u2014 H\u2014\u2014, The Conjurer of St Colomb.\n\nThis old man was successful in persuading his dupes that he owed his\npowers over evil spirits to his superior learning and his unblemished\nlife. This assumption of piety was well preserved, and to the outside\nworld his sanctity was undoubted. The only practice which can be named as\npeculiar to H\u2014\u2014 was that of lighting scores of candles and placing them\naround the meadow near his house. Of course such a display would attract\nmuch attention; and J\u2014\u2014 succeeded in conveying an impression to the minds\nof the country people that this process was required to counteract the\nspells of the witches. When this old fellow has been summoned, as he\noften was, to the houses supposed to be under the influence of evil, or\nto be bewitched, his practice was not a little original, though wanting\nin all that dignifies the office of an exorcist. When he arrived at\nthe house, before speaking to any one, he would commence operations by\nbeating with a heavy stick on the wooden partitions, screens, or pieces\nof furniture, so as to make the greatest possible noise, shouting loudly\nall the time, \u201cOut! out! out!\u2014Away! away! away!\u2014to the Red Sea\u2014to the Red\nSea\u2014to the Red Sea.\u201d Frequently he would add, with violent enunciation\nand much action, a torrent of incoherent and often incomprehensible\nwords, (locally, \u201c_gibberish_.\u201d) The proceeding being brought to a\nclose, and the spirits of evil flown, every part of the house was\nordered to be well cleansed, and the walls and ceilings to be thoroughly\nlime-washed,\u2014certainly the only sensible part of the whole operation.\nWhen J\u2014\u2014 H\u2014\u2014 was applied to respecting stolen property, his usual\npractice was to shew the face of the thief in a tub of water. J\u2014\u2014 drove a\nconsiderable trade in selling powders to throw over bewitched cattle.[58]\n\n\nCURES FOR WARTS.\n\n\nI.\n\nThe vicar of Bodmin found, not long since, a bottle full of pins laid\nin a newly-made grave. I have heard of this as an unfailing remedy;\neach wart was touched with a new pin, and the pin then dropped into the\nbottle. I am not quite certain that it was necessary that the bottle\nshould be placed in a newly-made grave; in many cases burying it in the\nearth, and especially at a \u201cfour cross-roads,\u201d was quite sufficient. As\nthe pins rust, the warts decay.\n\n\nII.\n\nA piece of string should be taken, and as many knots tied on it as there\nare warts on the body; each wart being carefully touched with the knot\ndedicated to it. The string is then to be buried, and the warts fade\naway as it decays. A few years since a shipwright in Devonport dockyard\nprofessed to cure warts by merely receiving from an indifferent person a\nknotted string,\u2014the knots of which had been tied by the afflicted. What\nhe did with the string I know not.\n\n\nIII.\n\nTo touch each wart with a pebble, place the pebbles in a bag, and to lose\nthe bag on the way to church, was for many years a very favourite remedy;\nbut the unfortunate person who found the bag received the warts. A lady\nonce told me that she picked up such a bag, when a child, and out of\ncuriosity, and in ignorance, examined the contents. The result was that\nshe had, in a short time, as many warts as there were stones in the bag.\n\n\nIV.\n\nAnother remedy was to _steal_ a piece of meat from a butcher\u2019s stall in\nthe public market, and with this to touch the warts, and bury it. As the\nmeat putrefied the warts decayed.\n\n\nV.\n\nI remember, when quite a child, having a very large \u201cseedy wart\u201d on\none of my fingers. I was taken by a distant relation, an elderly lady,\nresiding in Gwinear, to some old woman, for the purpose of having this\nwart charmed. I well remember that two charred sticks were taken from the\nfire on the hearth, and carefully crossed over the fleshy excrescence,\nwhile some words were muttered by the charmer. I know not how long it was\nbefore the wart disappeared, but certainly, at some time, it did so.\n\n\nA CURE FOR PARALYSIS.\n\nMargery Penwarne, a paralysed woman, about fifty years of age, though\nfrom her affliction looking some ten years older, sat in the church porch\nof St \u2014\u2014, and presented her outstretched withered arm and open palm to\nthe congregation as they left the house of God after the morning service.\n\nPenny after penny fell into her hand, though Margery never opened her\nlips. All appeared to know the purpose, and thirty pennies were speedily\ncollected. Presently the parson came with his family, and then she spoke\nfor the first time, soliciting the priest to change the copper coins into\none silver one. This wish was readily acceded to, and the paralytic woman\nhobbled into the church, and up the aisle to the altar rails. A few words\npassed between her and the clerk; she was admitted within the rails, and\nthe clerk moved the communion-table from against the wall, that she might\nwalk round it, which she did three times.\n\n\u201cNow,\u201d said Margery, \u201cwith God\u2019s blessing, I shall be cured; my blessed\nbit of silver must be made into a ring,\u201d (this was addressed to the\nclerk, half aside;) \u201cand within three weeks after it is on my finger I\nshall get the use of my limbs again.\u201d\n\nThis charm is common throughout the three western counties for the cure\nof rheumatism,\u2014the Devonshire halt,\u2014or for any contraction of the limbs.\n\n\nA CURE FOR RHEUMATISM.\n\nCrawl under a bramble which has formed a second root in the ground. Or\nget a woman who has been delivered of a child, feet foremost, to tread\nthe patient.\n\n\nSUNDRY CHARMS.\n\nThe vicar of a large parish church informs me that a woman came to him\nsome time since for water from the font after a christening; she required\nit to undo some spell. The vicar states, that all the fonts in the\ncountry were formerly locked, to prevent people from stealing the \u201choly\nwater,\u201d as they called it.\n\n\nCURE FOR COLIC IN TOWEDNACK.\n\nTo stand on one\u2019s head for a quarter of an hour.\n\n\nFOR A SCALD OR BURN.\n\n \u201cThere came three angels out of the East,\n One brought fire and two brought frost;\n Out fire and in frost,\n In the name of the Father, Son, and Holy Ghost.\n Amen!\u201d\n\nBramble-leaves, or sometimes the leaves of the common dock, wetted with\nspring water, are employed in this charm, as also in the following one.\n\n\nCHARMS FOR INFLAMMATORY DISEASES.\n\nA similar incantation to that practised for a burn is used. Three angels\nare invoked to come from the East, and this form of words is repeated\nthree times to each one of nine bramble-leaves immersed in spring water,\nmaking passes with the leaves _from_ the diseased part.\n\n\nCHARMS FOR THE PRICK OF A THORN.\n\n\nI.\n\n \u201cChrist was of a virgin born,\n And He was prick\u2019d by a thorn,\n And it did never bell[59] nor swell,\n As I trust in Jesus this never will.\u201d\n\n\nII.\n\n \u201cChrist was crown\u2019d with thorns\n The thorns did bleed, but did not rot,\n No more shall thy finger.\n In the name,\u201d[60] &c.\n\n\nCHARMS FOR STANCHING OF BLOOD.\n\n \u201cSanguis mane in te,\n Sicut Christus fuit in se;\n Sanguis mane in tu\u00e2 ven\u00e2,\n Sicut Christus in su\u00e2 pen\u00e2;\n Sanguis mane fixus,\n Sicut Christus quando crucifixus.\u201d\n\nAs this is repeated by ignorant old men or women, it becomes a confused\njargon of unmeaning words, but it impresses the still more ignorant\nsufferer with awe, approaching to fear. The following is more common:\u2014\n\n \u201cChrist was born in Bethlehem,\n Baptized in the river Jordan;\n There He digg\u2019d a well,\n And turn\u2019d the water against the hill,\n So shall thy blood stand still.\n In the name,\u201d &c.\n\n\nCHARM FOR A TETTER.\n\n \u201cTetter, tetter, thou hast nine brothers.\n God bless the flesh and preserve the bone;\n Perish, thou tetter, and be thou gone.\n In the name,\u201d &c.\n\n \u201cTetter, tetter, thou hast eight brothers.\n God bless the flesh and preserve the bone;\n Perish, thou tetter, and be thou gone.\n In the name,\u201d &c.\n\n \u201cTetter, tetter, thou hast seven brothers.\u201d\n &c., &c.\n\nThus the verses are continued until tetter, having \u201cno brother,\u201d is\nimperatively ordered to begone.\n\n\nCHARM FOR THE STING OF A NETTLE.\n\nMany a time do I remember, when a child playing in the fields, having\nsuffered from the stings of the nettle, and constantly seeking for the\nadvantages of the charm of the dock-leaf. The cold leaf was placed on the\ninflamed spot, and the well-known rhyme three times repeated:\u2014\n\n \u201cOut nettle,\n In dock;\n Dock shall have\n A new smock.\u201d\n\n\nCHARM FOR TOOTHACHE.\n\n \u201cChrist pass\u2019d by His brother\u2019s door,\n Saw His brother lying on the floor.\n \u2018What aileth thee, brother?\n Pain in the teeth?\u2014\n Thy teeth shall pain thee no more.\n In the name,\u2019\u201d &c.\n\n\nCHARM FOR SERPENTS.\n\nThe body of a dead serpent bruised on the wound it has occasioned, is\nsaid to be an infallible remedy for its bite. Common report is sufficient\nto warrant a poetical allusion:\u2014\n\n \u201cThe beauteous adder hath a sting,\n Yet bears a balsam too.\u201d\n\n _Polwheel\u2019s Sketches._\n\n\nTHE CURE OF BOILS.\n\nThe sufferer is to pass nine times against the sun, under a bramble-bush\ngrowing at both ends. This is the same as the cure prescribed for\nrheumatism.\n\n\nRICKETS, OR A CRICK IN THE BACK.\n\nThe holed stone\u2014M\u00ean-an-tol\u2014in Lanyon, is commonly called by the peasantry\nthe crick-stone. Through this the sufferer was drawn nine times against\nthe sun\u2014or, if a man, he was to crawl through the hole nine times.\n\nStrumous children were not unfrequently treated after another fashion.\n\nA young ash-tree was cleft vertically, and the parts being drawn forcibly\nasunder, the child was passed \u201cthree times three times\u201d against the\nsun through the tree. This ceremony having been performed, the tree\nwas carefully bound together: if the bark grew together and the tree\nsurvived, the child would grow healthy and strong; if the tree died, the\ndeath of the child, it was believed, would surely follow.\n\n\nTHE CLUB-MOSS, (LYCOPODIUM INUNDATUM.)\n\nIf this moss is properly gathered, it is \u201cgood against all diseases of\nthe eyes.\u201d\n\nThe gathering is regarded as a mystery not to be lightly told; and if any\nman ventures to write the secret, the virtues of the moss avail him no\nmore. I hope, therefore, my readers will fully value the sacrifice I make\nin giving them the formula by which they may be guided.\n\nOn the third day of the moon\u2014when the thin crescent is seen for the first\ntime\u2014shew it the knife with which the moss is to be cut, and repeat,\u2014\n\n \u201cAs Christ heal\u2019d the issue of blood,\n Do thou cut, what thou cuttest, for good!\u201d\n\nAt sun-down, having carefully washed the hands, the club-moss is to\nbe cut kneeling. It is to be carefully wrapped in a white cloth, and\nsubsequently boiled in some water taken from the spring nearest to its\nplace of growth. This may be used as a fomentation. Or the club-moss may\nbe made into an ointment, with butter made from the milk of a new cow.\n\n\nMOON SUPERSTITIONS.\n\nThe following superstitions are still prevalent on the north coast of\nCornwall:\u2014\n\n\u201cThis root, (the sea-poppy,) so much valued for removing all pains in the\nbreast, stomach, and intestines, is good also for disordered lungs, and\nis so much better here than in other places, that the apothecaries of\nCornwall send hither for it; and some people plant them in their gardens\nin Cornwall, and will not part with them under sixpence a root. A very\nsimple notion they have with regard to this root, which falls not much\nshort of the Druids\u2019 superstition in gathering and preparing their selago\nand samolus. This root, you must know, is accounted very good both as an\nemetic and cathartic. If, therefore, they design that it shall operate\nas the former, their constant opinion is that it should be scraped and\nsliced upwards\u2014that is, beginning from the root, the knife is to ascend\ntowards the leaf;\u2014but if that it is intended to operate as a cathartic,\nthey must scrape the root downwards. The _senecio_ also, or groundsel,\nthey strip upwards for an emetic and downwards for a cathartic. In\nCornwall they have several such groundless opinions with regard to\nplants, and they gather all the medicinal ones when the moon is just such\nan age; which, with many other such whims, must be considered as the\nreliques of the Druid superstition.\u201d[61]\n\nThey, the Druids, likewise used great ceremonies in gathering an herb\ncalled _samolus_, marsh-wort, or fen-berries, which consisted in a\nprevious fast, in not looking back during the time of their plucking it,\nand, lastly, in using their left hand only; from this last ceremony,\nperhaps, the herb took the name of _samol_, which, in the Ph\u0153nician\ntongue, means the left hand. This herb was considered to be particularly\nefficacious in curing the diseases incident to swine and cattle.\u2014(_C. S.\nGilbert._)\n\n\nCURES FOR WHOOPING-COUGH.\n\n\nI.\n\nGather nine spar stones from a running stream, taking care not to\ninterrupt the free passage of the water in doing so. Then dip a quart of\nwater from the stream, which must be taken in the direction in which the\nstream runs;\u2014by no means must the vessel be dipped against the stream.\n\nThen make the nine stones red hot, and throw them into the quart of\nwater. Bottle the prepared water, and give the afflicted child a\nwine-glass of this water for nine mornings following. If this will not\ncure the whooping-cough, nothing else can, says the believer.\n\n\nII.\n\nA female donkey of three years old was taken, and the child was drawn\nnaked nine times over its back and under its belly. Then three spoonfuls\nof milk were drawn from the teats of the animal, and three hairs cut from\nthe back and three hairs cut from the belly were placed in it. This was\nto stand for three hours to acquire the proper virtue, and then the child\ndrank it in three doses.\n\nThis ceremony was repeated three mornings running, and my informant said\nthe child was always cured. I knew of several children who were treated\nin this manner in one of the small villages between Penzance and Madron\nChurch-town, some twenty or thirty years since. There were some doggerel\nlines connected with the ceremony, which have escaped my memory, and I\nhave endeavoured, in vain, to find any one remembering them. They were\nto the effect that, as Christ placed the cross on the ass\u2019s back when\nHe rode into Jerusalem, and so rendered the animal holy, if the child\ntouched where Jesus sat, it should cough no more.\n\n\nCURE OF TOOTHACHE.\n\nOne good man informed me that, though he had no faith in charming, yet\nthis he knew, that he was underground one day, and had the toothache\n\u201cawful bad, sure enough; and Uncle John ax\u2019d me, \u2018What\u2019s the matter?\u2019\nsays he. \u2018The toothache,\u2019 says I. \u2018Shall I charm it?\u2019 says he. \u2018Ees,\u2019\nsays I. \u2018Very well,\u2019 says he; and off he went to work in the next pitch.\nHo! dedn\u2019t my tooth ache, Lor\u2019 bless ee; a just ded ye knaw; just as if\nthe charm were tugging my very life out. At last Uncle John comed down\nto the soller, and sing\u2019d out, \u2018Alloa! how\u2019s your tooth in there?\u2019 says\nhe. \u2018Very bad,\u2019 says I. \u2018How\u2019s a feeling?\u2019 says he. \u2018Pulling away like an\nould hoss with the \u201cskwitches,\u201d\u2019 says I. \u2018Hal drag my jaw off directly,\u2019\nsays I. \u2018Ees the charm working?\u2019 says he. \u2018Es, a shure enuf,\u2019 says I.\n\u2018Es,\u2019 says he, \u2018al be better d\u2019rectly.\u2019 \u2018Hope a will,\u2019 says I. Goodness\ngracious! dedn\u2019t a ache; I believe a did you; then a stopped most to\nonce. \u2018Es better,\u2019 says I. \u2018I thought so,\u2019 says he; \u2018and you waan\u2019t have\nun no more for a long time,\u2019 says he. \u2018Thank ee, Uncle John,\u2019 says I;\n\u2018I\u2019ll give ee a pint o\u2019 beer pay-day,\u2019 and so I ded; an\u2019 I haben\u2019t had\nthe toothache ever since. Now, if he dedn\u2019t charm un, how ded a stop? and\nif he dedn\u2019t knaw a would be better a long time, how ded he say so? No,\nnor I haven\u2019t had un never since. So that\u2019s a plain proof as he knaw\u2019d\nall about it, waden\u2019t a you?\u201d\n\nI nodded assent, convinced it was useless to argue against such reasoning\nas that.\n\n\nTHE CONVALESCENT\u2019S WALK.\n\nIf an invalid goes out for the first time and makes a circuit, this\ncircuit must be with the sun; if against the sun, there will be a relapse.\n\n\nADDERS, AND THE MILPREVE.\n\nThe country people around the Land\u2019s-End say that in old times no one\ncould live in the low grounds, which were then covered with thickets,\nand these swarming with adders. Even at a much later period, in the\nsummer-time, it was not safe to venture amongst the furze on the Downs\nwithout a _milpreve_. (I have never seen a milpreve; but it is described\nto me as being about the size of a pigeon\u2019s egg, and I am told that\nit is made by the adders when they get together in great numbers.\nIs it not probable that the milpreve may be one of the madrepore\ncorals\u2014_millepore_\u2014found sometimes on the beaches around Land\u2019s-End?)\n\nA friend writes me:\u2014\u201cI was once shewn a milpreve; it was nothing more\nthan a beautiful ball of coralline limestone, the section of the coral\nbeing thought to be entangled young snakes.\u201d\n\nWhen some old men were streaming the \u201cBottoms\u201d up near Partimey, they\nwere often obliged to leave work on account of the number of adders that\nwould get together as if by agreement, and advance upon them.\n\nOne day one of the tin streamers chanced to leave his pot of milk,\nuncovered, out of the moor-house, when an adder got into it. The man cut\na turf and put over the pot to prevent the reptile from escaping. In a\nfew minutes the tinners saw \u201cthe ugly things crawling and leaping from\nall quarters towards the pot.\u201d The streamers were obliged to run, and\ntake which way they would; the adders seemed to be coming from every\ndirection, further and further off.\n\nAt last \u201cthey formed a heap round the pot as large as a pook [cock] of\nhay.\u201d Towards night all the reptiles were quite still, then the men\ngathered together, around the mass of adders, a great quantity of furze,\n(being summer, there was plenty cut and dry close at hand,) and piled\nit up like sheaves to make a mow, laying a circle of well-dried turf\nwithout it. They then fired the turf on every side, and when it was well\nignited, they fired the furze. \u201cOh, it was a sight to see the adders\nwhen they felt the smoke and the flame! they began to boil, as it were,\nall in a heap, and fell back into the flaming furze; those which leaped\nthrough perishing on the brilliant ring of burning peat. Thus were killed\nthousands upon thousands of adders, and the moors were clear for a long,\nlong period.\u201d\n\nThis is related nearly as the story was told; but it appears necessary\nto make some allowance for that spirit of exaggeration which is a\ncharacteristic of all Celtic people, ere they have been tutored to know\nthe dignity of truth.\n\n\u201cThe country people retaine a conceite, that the snakes, by their\nbreathing upon a hazel-wand, doe make a stone ring of blew colour, in\nwhich there appeareth the yellow figure of a snake, and that beasts which\nare stung, being given to drink of the water wherein this stone hath bene\nsocked, will there-through recover.\u201d[62]\n\nThis was clearly one of the so-called \u201cDruidic rings,\u201d\u2014examples of which\nmay be seen in our museums,\u2014which have been found in England and in\nIreland. It is curious that at the glassworks of Murano, near Venice,\nthey still make rings, or beads, precisely resembling the ancient ones,\nand these are used largely as money in Africa.\n\nSnakes were formerly held in great reverence; and Camden asserts that\none of the prevailing superstitions concerning them was that, about\nmidsummer-eve, they all met together in companies, and, joining their\nheads, began a general hiss, which they continued until a kind of bubble\nwas formed, which immediately hardened, and gave to the finder prosperity\nin all his undertakings.[63]\n\nLhuyd, in a letter written in 1701, gives a curious account of the then\nsuperstitious character of the people in this district. \u201cThe Cornish\nretain variety of charms, and have still towards the Land\u2019s-End the\namulets of _Maen Magal_ and _Glain-neider_, which latter they call a\n_Melprer_, a thousand worms, and have a charm for the snake to make it,\nwhen they have found one asleep, and struck a hazel-wand in the centre\nof its _spir\u00e6_.\u201d Camden mentions the use of snake-stones as a Cornish\nsuperstition.\n\n\u201cThe very same story, in fact, is told of the _Adder-stane_ in the\npopular legends of the Scottish Lowlands, as Pliny records of the origin\nof the _Ovum Anguinum_. The various names by which these relics are\ndesignated all point to their estimation as amulets or superstitious\ncharms; and the fact of their occurrence, most frequently singly, in\nthe sepulchral cist or urn, seems to prove that it was as such, and not\nmerely as personal ornaments, that they were deposited with the ashes\nof the dead. They are variously known as adder-beads, serpent-stones,\nDruidical beads; and, amongst the Welsh and Irish, by the synonymous\nterms of _Gleini na Droedh_ and _Glaine nan Druidhe_, signifying the\nmagician\u2019s or Druid\u2019s glass.\u201d\u2014_Wilson\u2019s Arch\u00e6ology and Prehistoric Annals\nof Scotland_, p. 304.\n\n\nSNAKES AVOID THE ASH-TREE.\n\nIt is said that no kind of snake is ever found near the \u201cashen-tree,\u201d and\nthat a branch of the ash-tree will prevent a snake from coming near a\nperson.\n\nA child, who was in the habit of receiving its portion of bread and\nmilk at the cottage door, was found to be in the habit of sharing its\nfood with one of the poisonous adders. The reptile came regularly every\nmorning, and the child, pleased with the beauty of his companion,\nencouraged the visits. The babe and adder were close friends.\n\nEventually this became known to the mother, and, finding it to be a\nmatter of difficulty to keep the snake from the child whenever it was\nleft alone,\u2014and she was frequently, being a labourer in the fields,\ncompelled to leave her child to shift for itself,\u2014she adopted the\nprecaution of binding an \u201cashen-twig\u201d about its body.\n\nThe adder no longer came near the child; but from that day forward the\nchild pined, and eventually died, as all around said, through grief at\nhaving lost the companion by whom it had been fascinated.\n\n\nTO CHARM A SNAKE.\n\nWhen an adder or snake is seen, a circle is to be rapidly drawn around\nit, and the sign of the cross made within it, while the two first verses\nof the 68th Psalm are repeated:\u2014\n\n \u201cLet God arise, let his enemies be scattered: let them also\n that hate him flee before him.\n\n \u201cAs smoke is driven away, so drive them away: as wax melteth\n before the fire, so let the wicked perish at the presence of\n God.\u201d\n\nWhen a child, I well remember being shewn a snake, not yet dead, within\na circle of this kind; the gardener who drew my attention to the reptile\ninforming me that he had charmed it in the manner related.\n\n\nTHE ASH-TREE.[64]\n\nWeakly children\u2014\u201cchildren that wouldn\u2019t goode,\u201d or thrive\u2014were sometimes\ndrawn through the cleft ash-tree. I have seen the ceremony performed but\nin one case.\n\nThe tree was young, and it was taken by the two forks,\u2014bifurcation having\ntaken place,\u2014and by force rended longitudinally. The cleft was kept\nopen, and the child, quite naked, was passed head first through the tree\nnine times. The tree was then closed and carefully tied together. If the\nsevered parts reunited, the child and the tree recovered together; if the\ncleft gaped in any part, the operation was certain to prove ineffectual.\n\nI quote another example. A large knife was inserted into the trunk of the\nyoung tree, about a foot from the ground, and a vertical rending made for\nabout three feet. Two men then forcibly pulled the parts asunder, and\nheld them so, whilst the mother passed the child through it three times.\nThis \u201cpassing\u201d alone was not considered effective; it was necessary that\nthe child should be washed for three successive mornings in the dew from\nthe leaves of the \u201ccharmed ash.\u201d\n\nIn the _Athen\u00e6um_ for September 1846, Ambrose Merton\u2014Mr Thoms\u2014has some\ninteresting notices of the widespread belief in, and the antiquity of,\nthis superstition.\n\n\nRHYME ON THE EVEN ASH.\n\n \u201cEven ash, I thee do pluck;\n Hoping thus to meet good luck.\n If no luck I get from thee,\n I shall wish thee on the tree.\u201d\n\n\nA TEST OF INNOCENCY.\n\nA farmer in Towednack having been robbed of some property of no great\nvalue, was resolved, nevertheless, to employ a test which he had heard\nthe \u201cold people\u201d resorted to for the purpose of catching the thief.\nHe invited all his neighbours into his cottage, and when they were\nassembled, he placed a cock under the \u201cbrandice,\u201d (an iron vessel\nformerly much employed by the peasantry in baking, when this process was\ncarried out on the hearth, the fuel being furze and ferns.) Every one was\ndirected to touch the brandice with his, or her, third finger, and say,\n\u201cIn the name of the Father, Son, and Holy Ghost, speak.\u201d Every one did\nas they were directed, and no sound came from beneath the brandice. The\nlast person was a woman, who occasionally laboured for the farmer in his\nfields. She hung back, hoping to pass unobserved amidst the crowd. But\nher very anxiety made her a suspected person. She was forced forward, and\nmost unwillingly she touched the brandice, when, before she could utter\nthe words prescribed, the cock crew. The woman fell faint on the floor,\nand, when she recovered, she confessed herself to be the thief, restored\nthe stolen property, and became, it is said, \u201ca changed character from\nthat day.\u201d\n\n\nTHE BONFIRE TEST.\n\nA bonfire is formed of faggots of furze, ferns, and the like. Men and\nmaidens by locking hands form a circle, and commence a dance to some wild\nnative song. At length, as the dancers become excited, they pull each\nother from side to side across the fire. If they succeed in treading\nout the fire without breaking the chain, none of the party will die\nduring the year. If, however, the ring is broken before the fire is\nextinguished, \u201cbad luck to the weak hands,\u201d as my informant said.\n\n\nLIGHTS SEEN BY THE CONVERTED.\n\nThere is, in many parts of the county, a belief, derived no doubt\nfrom the recollection of St Paul\u2019s conversion, that, when sinners are\nconverted, they see shining lights about themselves. I have many times\nheard this, but every one seems to have his own particular mode of\ndescribing the phenomenon,\u2014where they can be prevailed on to describe it\nat all,\u2014and usually that is derived from some picture which has made an\nimpression on their minds: such as, \u201cexactly like the light shining round\nthe angel appearing to St Peter, in fayther\u2019s Bible.\u201d\n\n\nTHE MIGRATORY BIRDS\n\nI find a belief still prevalent amongst the people in the outlying\ndistricts of Cornwall, that such birds as the cuckoo and the swallow\nremain through the winter in deep caves, cracks in the earth, and in\nhollow trees; and instances have been cited of these birds having been\nfound in a torpid state in the mines, and in hollow pieces of wood. This\nbelief appears to be of some antiquity, for Carew writes in his \u201cSurvey\nof Cornwall\u201d as follows:\u2014\n\n\u201cIn the west parts of Cornwall, during the winter season, swallows are\nfound sitting in old deep tynne-works, and holes in the sea cliffes:\nbut touching their lurking-places, _Olaus Magnus_ maketh a far stranger\nreport. For he saith that in the north parts of the world, as summer\nweareth out, they clap mouth to mouth, wing to wing, and legge to legge,\nand so, after a sweet singing, fall downe into certain lakes or pools\namongst the caves, from whence at the next spring they receive a new\nresurrection; and he addeth, for proofe thereof, that the fishermen\nwho make holes in the ice, to dip up such fish in their nets as resort\nthither for breathing, doe sometimes light on these swallows congealled\nin clods, of a slymie substance, and that, carrying them home to their\nstoves, the warmth restored them to life and flight.\u201d\n\nA man employed in the granite quarries near Penryn, informed me that he\nfound such a \u201cslymie substance\u201d in one of the pools in the quarry where\nhe was working, that he took it home, warmth proved it to be a bird, but\nwhen it began to move it was seized by the cat, who ran out on the downs\nand devoured it.\n\n\nSHOOTING STARS.\n\nA mucilaginous substance is found on the damp ground near the granite\nquarries of Penryn, this is often very phosphorescent at night. The\ncountry people regard this as the substance of shooting stars. A\ntradesman of Penryn once brought me a bottle full of this substance for\nanalysis, informing me that the men employed at the quarries, whenever\nthey observed a shooting star, went to the spot near which they supposed\nit to fall, and they generally found a hat full of this mucus. It is\ncurious that the Belgian peasants also call it \u201cthe substance of shooting\nstars,\u201d (\u201cPhosphorescence,\u201d p. 109. By T. L. Phipson.) This author\nsays, \u201cI have sketched the history of this curious substance in the\n_Journal de M\u00e9decine et de Pharmacologie_ of Bruxelles, for 1855. It was\nanalysed chemically by Mulder, and anatomically by Carus, and from their\nobservations appears to be the peculiar mucus which envelops the eggs\nof the frog. It swells to an enormous volume when it has free access to\nwater. As seen upon the damp ground in spring, it was often mistaken for\nsome species of fungus; it is, however, simply the spawn of frogs, which\nhas been swallowed by some large crows or other birds, and afterwards\nvomited, from its peculiar property of swelling to an immense size in\ntheir bodies.\u201d\n\nIn Mulder\u2019s account of its chemical composition, given by Berselius in\nhis _Rapport Annual_, he distinguishes it by designation of _mucilage\natmosph\u00e9rique_.\n\n\nTHE SUN NEVER SHINES ON THE PERJURED.\n\nThere appears to exist a very old superstition, to the effect that when\na man has deeply perjured himself,\u2014especially if by his perjury he has\nsacrificed the life of a friend,\u2014he not merely loses the enjoyment of the\nsunshine, but he actually loses all consciousness of its light or its\nwarmth. Howsoever bright the sun may shine, the weather appears to him\ngloomy, dark, and cold.\n\nI have recently been told of a man living in the western part of\nCornwall, who is said to have sworn away the life of an innocent person.\n\u201cThe face of this false witness is the colour of one long in the tomb;\nand he has never, since the death of the victim of his forswearing, seen\nthe sun.\u201d It must be remembered the perjured man is not blind. All\nthings around him are seen as by other men, but the sense of vision is so\ndulled that the world is for ever to him in a dark, vapoury cloud.\n\n\nCHARACTERISTICS.\n\nAn esteemed and learned correspondent, himself a Cornishman, writing to\nme on the Cornish character, says:\u2014\n\n\u201cThere are some adages in which beadledom receives various hard\nknocks\u2014that abstraction mostly taking the shape of some unlucky mayor;\nand I have heard in Cornwall, but never elsewhere, that the greatest fool\nin the place for the time being is always made the mayor.\n\n\u201cThere is an adage of the Mayor of Calenich, (and yet I doubt if ever\nthat hamlet had such an officer.) Calenich is one mile from Truro,\nand the mayor\u2019s hackney was pastured two miles from home; so, as his\nworship would by no means compromise his dignity by walking to Truro, he\ninvariably walked to his horse to ride there, so that it was said of any\none who would keep up appearances at great trouble, that he was \u2018_like\nthe Mayor of Calenich, who walked two miles to ride one_.\u2019\n\n\u201cThe class who never know on which side their bread is buttered, are\nsaid to be \u2018_like the Mayor of Market-Jew, sitting in their own light_;\u2019\nand the stupid man whose moods, whether of sadness or merriment, are\ninopportune, is, as may be, said to be \u2018_like the Mayor of Falmouth, who\nthanked God when the town-jail was enlarged_.\u2019\n\n\u201cMany persons are chronicled in the same manner.\n\n\u201c\u2018_Like Nicholas Kemp, he\u2019s got occasion for all._\u2019 Nicholas was said to\nbe a voter in a Cornish borough, who was told to help himself (so that no\none should have given him a bribe,) from a table covered with gold, in\nthe election committee-room. Taking off his hat, he swept the whole mass\ninto it, saying, \u2018I\u2019ve occasion for all.\u2019\n\n\u201c\u2018_Like Uncle Acky Stoddern, the picture of ill luck._\u2019 This was always\napplied to a once well-known Gwennap-man.\n\n\u201cWhen a boy is asked what he will be, it is sometimes answered on his\nbehalf, \u2018_I\u2019ll be like Knuckey, be as I am_.\u2019\n\n\u201c\u2018_Like Nanny Painter\u2019s hens, very high upon the legs_,\u2019 is applied to a\nstarveling or threadpaper.\n\n\u201c\u2018_Like Malachi\u2019s cheeld, choke-full of sense_,\u2019 applied derisively to\nany one boasting of himself or of his children. This is, I believe,\npurely Cornish.\n\n\u201c\u2018_Like a toad under a harrow, I don\u2019t know whichee corse to steer._\u2019 The\nfirst division of this adage is common property, the last is confined to\nCornwall.\n\n\u201c\u2018_He is coming home with Penny Liggan_,\u2019 sometimes \u2018Peter Lacken,\u2019\nsignifies the return of a pennyless scapegrace. The term was probably\n\u2018penny lacking\u2019 originally.\n\n\u201cAre the Cornish folk given to making \u2018bulls,\u2019 like the Irish?\u201d asks my\ncorrespondent. \u201cI have heard of one or two curious inversions of speech.\n\n\u201cOnce upon a time a little boy having vainly importuned his seniors for a\npenny to go and buy sweets, being determined not to be disappointed, went\noff, exclaiming, \u2018I don\u2019t care; I\u2019ll go and _trust_ Betty Rule,\u2019 (the\nsweetmeat vendor.) This is native and genuine Gwennapian.\n\n\u201cThe common people are fond of figures of speech. Port-wine negus was\nchristened by the miners \u2018black wine toddy.\u2019 They go on Midsummer-day to\nFalmouth or Penzance, to get \u2018_a pen\u2019ord o\u2019 say_\u2019\u2014that is, they go out in\na boat on payment of a penny.\n\n\u201cWith them, when their health is inquired after, every man is \u2018_brave_,\u2019\nand every woman \u2018_charming_;\u2019 and friendship takes dear household names\ninto its mouth for more expressiveness.\n\n\u201c\u2018Well, Billy, my son, how\u2019s faether?\u2019\n\n\u201c\u2018Brave, thank ee.\u2019\n\n\u201c\u2018How are you, Coden [Cousin] Jaan, and how\u2019s Betty?\u2019\n\n\u201c\u2018She\u2019s charming, thank ee.\u2019\n\n\u201c_Trade_ is a word of special application, \u2018_a pa\u2019cel o\u2019 trade_.\u2019\n\n\u201cA precious mess is \u2018_a brave shape_.\u2019\n\n\u201cOf an undecided person it is said, \u2018_He is neither Nim nor Doll_.\u2019 Does\nthis mean he is neither Nimrod nor Dorothy?\n\n\u201cA phrase descriptive of vacuity of expression is, \u2018_He looks like\nanybody that has neither got nor lost_.\u2019\u201d\n\nYears since it was a common custom to assign some ridiculous action to\nthe people of a small town or village. For example, the people of one\nplace were called \u201cBuccas,\u201d \u201cbecause some one of them was frightened at\nhis shadow.\u201d\n\nThose of another town were named \u201cGulls,\u201d \u201cbecause two of the townsmen\nthrew a gull over a cliff to break its neck.\u201d\n\nThe men of a fishing-village were nicknamed \u201cCongers,\u201d \u201cbecause they\nthrew a conger overboard to drown it.\u201d\n\n\u201cWho whipped the hake?\u201d was applied to the inhabitants of another town,\nbecause hake, it is said, being excessively plenty, the fishermen flogged\none of those fish, and flung it back into the sea; upon which all the\nhakes left that coast, and kept away for years.[65]\n\n\u201cWho drowned the man in a dry ditch?\u201d belongs especially to another place.\n\nCertain Cornishmen built a wall around the cuckoo, to prevent that bird\nfrom leaving the county, and thus to insure an early spring. When built,\nthe bird flew out, crying \u201cCuckoo! cuckoo!\u201d \u201cIf we had put one course\nmore on the wall we should a\u2019 kept\u2019n in,\u201d said they.\n\nCamborne is so called from _Camburne_, _a crooked well-pit_ of water.\nThis crooked well was at one time far famed for the cure of many diseases.\n\nThe persons who washed in this well were called _Merrasicke_. I know not\nthe meaning of the word. According to an old Cornish custom of fixing\nnicknames on people, the inhabitants of Camborne are called _Mearageeks_,\nsignifying perverse, or obstinate.\u2014(_Lanyon._)\n\nThe Church was anciently called _Mariadoci_. I therefore suspect that the\nabove terms have some connexion with this name. By an easy corruption,\nand the addition of _geeks_, or _gawks_, (meaning awkward,) either word\ncan be produced.\n\nOf the Gorran men it is asked, \u201cWho tried to throw the moon over the\ncliffs?\u201d\n\n\nTHE MUTTON FEAST.\n\nAn old tradition\u2014the particulars of which I have failed to recover\u2014says\nthat a flock of sheep were blown from the Gwithian Sands over into St\nIves Bay, and that the St Ives fishermen caught them,\u2014believing them to\nbe a new variety of fish,\u2014either in their nets, or with hook and line,\nand brought them ashore as their night\u2019s catch.\n\nI learn that Mr Fortescue Hitchins, some fifty or sixty years since,\nwrote a \u201ccopy of verses\u201d on this tradition, but I have never seen this\nproduction.\n\n\nTHE FLOATING GRINDSTONE.\n\nI have already told of St Piran and his grindstone. I have, however,\nanother and a more modern story, which is told with great glee at some of\nthe social meetings of the fishermen. This is given merely to indicate\nthe simplicity of this honest race.\n\nA party was got together on a promontory at the extremity of the bay\nwhich enclosed a fishing-town. They were gathered to see a wonder, a\n_floating grindstone_. Seeing that grindstones were grindstones in those\ndays, and worth many pounds sterling, a boat was manned, and away they\nwent, the mover of the expedition being in the bow of the boat.\n\nAs they approached the grindstone, this man planted his foot on the\ngunwale, ready for a spring. They were close aboard the circular\nmass,\u2014\u201cAll my own, and none for nobody,\u201d he cries, and sprang off, as\nhe fancied, on to the grindstone. Lo! to his great surprise, he sank\nunder water, presently popping up again within his charmed circle, to be\ngreeted with roars of laughter. He had leaped into a sheet of \u201csalt sea\nfoam\u201d which had gathered, and was confined within a large hoop.\n\n\nCELTS\u2014FLINT ARROW-HEADS, ETC.\n\nThe common people believe these to be produced by thunder, and thrown\ndown from the clouds, and that they shew what weather will ensue by\nchanging their colour.\n\nI have also found a belief prevailing in many districts, that Celts\nimpart a virtue to water in which they have been soaked, and that\ndiseases have been cured by drinking it.\n\n\nHORNS ON THE CHURCH TOWER.\n\nWhen the masons were building the tower of Towednack Church, the devil\ncame every night and carried off the pinnacles and battlements. Again and\nagain this work was renewed during the day, and as often was it removed\nduring the night, until at length the builders gave up the work in\ndespair, feeling that it was of no use to contend with the evil one.\n\nThus it is that Towednack Church stands lonely, with its squat and\nodd-looking tower, a mark of the power of evil to the present day.\nAssociated with this tower is a proverb: \u201cThere are no cuckolds in\nTowednack, because there are no horns on the church tower.\u201d\n\n\nTEA-STALKS AND SMUT.\n\nStems of tea floating in that beverage indicate strangers. Flakes of smut\nhanging loose to the fire-bars do the same thing.\n\nThe time of the stranger\u2019s arrival may be known by placing the stem on\nthe back of one hand, and smacking it with the other; the number of\nblows given before it is removed indicates the number of days before his\narrival.\n\nThe flake of carbon is blown upon, and according as it is removed by the\nfirst, second, or third blow, so is the time at the end of which the\nvisitor may be expected.\n\n\nAN OLD CORNISH RHYME.\n\n \u201cWhen the corn is in the shock,\n Then the fish are on the rock.\u201d\n\nThe pilchard visits this coast in the early autumn. These are the \u201cfish\u201d\n_par excellence_ of the Cornish, and they are thus distinguished.\n\n\nTO CHOOSE A WIFE.\n\nAscertain the day of the young woman\u2019s birth, and refer to the last\nchapter of Proverbs. Each verse from the 1st to the 31st is supposed to\nindicate, either directly or indirectly, the character, and to guide\nthe searcher\u2014the verse corresponding with her age indicating the woman\u2019s\ncharacter.\n\n\nTHE ROBIN AND THE WREN.\n\n \u201cThose who kill a robin or a wran,\n Will never prosper, boy or man.\u201d\n\nThis feeling is deeply impressed on every young mind; there are few,\ntherefore, who would injure either of those birds.\n\nI remember that a boy in Redruth killed a robin: the dead robin was tied\nround his neck, and he was marched by the other boys through the town,\nall of them singing the above lines.\n\n\nTO SECURE GOOD LUCK FOR A CHILD.\n\nGive the first person whom you meet between your own house and the church\nto which you are taking the infant to be christened, a piece of bread and\nsalt.\n\n\nINNOCENCY.\n\nTo wash the hands is an attestation of innocency. To call a man \u201cdirty\nfingers,\u201d is to accuse him of some foul or unjust deed.\n\n\nRAIN AT BRIDAL OR BURIAL.\n\n \u201cBlessed is the bride\n Whom the sun shines on,\n Blessed is the dead\n Whom the rain rains on.\u201d\n\nIf it rains while a wedding party are on their way to the church, or on\nreturning from it, it betokens a life of bickering and unhappiness.\n\nIf the rain falls on a coffin, it is supposed to indicate that the soul\nof the departed has \u201carrived safe.\u201d\n\n\nCROWING HENS, ETC.\n\nA whistling maid and a crowing hen in one house, is a certain sign of a\ndownfall to some one in it. I have known hens killed for crowing by night.\n\nThe braying of an ass is a sign of fair weather; so is also the crowing\nof a cock. The quacking of ducks foretells rain.\n\n\nTHE NEW MOON.\n\nTo see the new moon for the first time, through glass, is unlucky; you\nmay be certain that you will break glass before that moon is out. I\nhave known persons whose attention has been called to a clear new moon,\nhesitate. \u201cHev I seed her out a\u2019 doors afore?\u201d if not, they will go into\nthe open air, and if possible shew the moon \u201ca piece of gold,\u201d or, at all\nevents, turn their money.\n\n\nLOOKING-GLASSES.\n\nBreaking a looking-glass is certain to insure seven years of misfortune.\n\n\nTHE MAGPIE.\n\n \u201cOne is a sign of anger,\n Two is a sign of mirth,\n Three is a sign of a wedding,\n Four is a sign of a {birth.\n {death.\u201d\n\nA scolding woman is called a magpie. Whenever you see a magpie, take off\nyour hat to it; this will turn away the anger.\n\n\nTHE MONTH OF MAY UNLUCKY.\n\nMay is regarded by many as an unhealthy and unlucky month.\n\nChildren born in the month of May are called \u201cMay chets,\u201d and kittens\ncast in May are invariably destroyed, for\u2014\n\n \u201cMay chets\n Bad luck begets.\u201d\n\nAnother rhyme is\u2014,\n\n \u201cA hot May,\n Fat church hay,\u201d\n\nmeaning that funerals will be plenty.\n\n\nON THE BIRTHS OF CHILDREN.\n\n \u201cSunday\u2019s child is full of grace,\n Monday\u2019s child is full in the face,\n Tuesday\u2019s child is solemn and sad,\n Wednesday\u2019s child is merry and glad,\n Thursday\u2019s child is inclined to thieving,\n Friday\u2019s child is free in giving,\n Saturday\u2019s child works hard for his living.\u201d\n\n\nON WASHING LINEN.\n\n \u201cThey that wash Monday got all the week to dry,\n They that wash Tuesday are pretty near by,\n They that wash Wednesday make a good housewife,\n They that wash Thursday must wash for their life,\n They that wash Friday must wash in need,\n They that wash Saturday are sluts indeed.\u201d\n\n\nITCHING EARS.\n\nWhen the ears are red and itch, it is a sign that some one is talking\nof the suffering individual. If it is the left ear, they are being\nscandalised; if the right ear, they are being praised.\n\nOften have I heard, when the lower and middle class people have been\nindulging in some gossip of their neighbours or friends, \u201cI\u2019ll bet how\ntheir ears do itch.\u201d\n\n\nTHE SPARK ON THE CANDLE.\n\nA bright spark on the candle-wick indicates a letter coming to the\nhouse. The person towards whom it shines will receive it. The time of\nits arrival is determined by striking the bottom of the candlestick on\nthe table. If the spark comes off on the first blow, it will be received\nto-morrow; if two blows are required, on the second day, and so on.\n\n\nTHE BLUE VEIN.\n\nA fond mother was paying more than ordinary attention to a fine\nhealthy-looking child, a boy about three years old. The poor woman\u2019s\nbreast was heaving with emotion, and she struggled to repress her sighs.\nUpon inquiring if anything was really wrong, she said \u201cthe old lady of\nthe house had just told her that the child could not live long, because\n_he had a blue vein across his nose_.\u201d\n\n\nTHE CROAKING OF THE RAVEN.\n\nThere is a common feeling that the croaking of a raven over the house\nbodes evil to some member of the family. The following incident, given to\nme by a really intelligent man, illustrates the feeling:[66]\u2014\n\n\u201cOne day our family were much annoyed by the continued croaking of a\nraven over our house. Some of us believed it to be a token; others\nderided the idea; but one good lady, our next-door neighbour, said,\n\u2018Just mark the day, and see if something does not come of it.\u2019 The day\nand hour were carefully noted. Months passed away, and unbelievers were\nloud in their boastings and inquiries after the token.\n\n\u201cThe fifth month arrived, and with it a black-edged letter from\nAustralia, announcing the death of one of the members of the family in\nthat country. On comparing the dates of the death and the raven\u2019s croak,\nthey were found to have occurred on the same day.\u201d\n\n\nWHISTLING.\n\nTo whistle by night is one of the unpardonable sins amongst the fishermen\nof St Ives. My correspondent says, \u201cI would no more dare go among a party\nof fishermen at night whistling a popular air than into a den of untamed\ntigers.\u201d\n\nNo miner will allow of whistling underground. I could never learn from\nthe miners whether they regarded it as unlucky or not. I rather think\nthey feel that whistling indicates thoughtlessness, and they know their\nlabour is one of danger, requiring serious attention.\n\n\nMEETING ON THE STAIRS.\n\nIt is considered unlucky to meet on the stairs, and often one will retire\nto his or her room rather than run the risk of giving or receiving ill\nluck.\n\nI find this superstition prevails also in the Midland counties.\n\n\nTREADING ON GRAVES.\n\n \u201cTo see a man tread over graves,\n I hold it no good mark;\n \u2019Tis wicked in the sun and moon,\n And bad luck in the dark!\u201d\n\nSo sings Coleridge in his ballad of \u201cThe Three Graves.\u201d\n\nWhenever a person shivers from a sensation of cold down the spine, it is\nsaid some one is walking over his or her grave.\n\nPersons believing this will give directions that they may be buried in\nsome secluded corner of the churchyard, so that their corpse may not be\ndisturbed by unholy footsteps.\n\n\nA LOOSE GARTER.\n\nIf an unmarried woman\u2019s garter loosens when she is walking, her\nsweetheart is thinking of her.\n\n\nTO CURE THE HICCOUGH.\n\nWet the forefinger of the right hand with spittle, and cross the front of\nthe left shoe or boot three times, repeating the Lord\u2019s Prayer backwards.\n\n\nTHE SLEEPING FOOT.\n\nThis irregularity in the circulation is at once removed by crossing the\nfoot with saliva.\n\n\nTHE HORSE-SHOE.\n\nTo nail a horse-shoe, which has been cast on the road, over the door\nof any house, barn, or stable, is an effectual means of preventing the\nentrance of witches.\n\n\nTHE BLACK CAT\u2019S TAIL.\n\nThose little gatherings which occur on the eye-lids of children, locally\ncalled \u201cwilks,\u201d are cured by passing a black cat\u2019s tail nine times over\nthe place. If a ram cat, the cure is more certain.\n\n\nUNLUCKY THINGS.\n\nTo put the loaf on the table upside down\u2014to cut the butter at both\nends\u2014to place the bellows on the table\u2014to upset the salt\u2014to cross your\nknife and fork\u2014to pour gravy out of a spoon backwards, (or back-handed,)\nis each unlucky, and leads to quarrels. To borrow or lend a bellows is\nmost unlucky, and many would rather give than lend one.\n\nIf you are going on an errand, never turn back to your house, it presages\nill luck to do so. If, however, you are compelled to it, fail not to sit\ndown. By doing this, some mischief may be avoided.\n\n\nTHE LIMP CORPSE.\n\nIf a corpse stiffens shortly after death, all is thought to proceed\nnaturally; but if the limbs remain flexible, some one of the family is\nshortly to follow. If the eyes of a corpse are difficult to close, it is\nsaid \u201cthey are looking after a follower.\u201d\n\nTo find a louse on one\u2019s linen, is a sign of sickness. To find two,\nindicates a severe illness. If three lice are so found within a month, it\nis a \u201ctoken to prepare.\u201d\n\nTalking backwards, or putting one word incorrectly before another,\u2014\u201cthe\ncart before the horse,\u201d\u2014is considered to foretell that you will shortly\nsee a stranger.\n\nIf two young people, in conversation, happen to think of the same thing\nat the same time, and one of them utters the thought before the other,\nthat one is certain to be married first.\n\n\n\u201cBY HOOK OR BY CROOK.\u201d\n\nIn the parish of Egles-Hayle are two crosses, known as \u201cPeverell\u2019s\nCrosses;\u201d and near Mount Charles, also in this parish, is another\n\u201cmoorstone\u201d cross, called the Prior\u2019s Cross, whereon is cut the figure\nof a hook and a crook, in memory of the privileges granted by a prior,\nbelonging to the family of the Peverells, who are said to have possessed\nlands in this parish since the time of Richard II.\n\nThe poor of Bodmin were greatly distressed through the scarcity of fuel,\nthe \u201cturf,\u201d or peat of the moors being insufficient to supply their\nwants. The prior gave \u201cprivilege and freedom\u201d to the poor of Bodmin for\ngathering, for \u201cfire-boote and house-boote,\u201d such boughs and branches of\noak-trees in his woods of Dunmear, as they could reach to, or come at,\nwith a \u201chook and a crook,\u201d without further damage to the trees.\n\nHence the proverb concerning filching, \u201cthat they will have it by hook or\nby crook.\u201d\n\n\nWEATHER SIGNS.\n\nThe WEATHER DOG.\u2014It frequently happens in unsettled weather that banks of\nrain-cloud gather around the horizon, and that, over isolated tracts, the\nrain falls. If these depositions from this low stratum of clouds occur\nopposite to the sun, the lower limb of a bow is formed, often appearing\nlike a pillar of decomposed light; and sometimes two of these coloured\nbands will be seen, forming indeed the two extremities of the arch. These\nare \u201cweather dogs,\u201d and they are regarded as certain prognostications of\nshowery or stormy weather.[67]\n\nThe usual proverb with regard to the full bow; which prevails generally,\nis common in Cornwall,\u2014\n\n \u201cThe rainbow in the morning\n Is the shepherd\u2019s warning;\n The rainbow at night\n Is the shepherd\u2019s delight.\u201d\n\nBut, as far as I know, the \u201cweather dog\u201d is peculiarly Cornish.\n\n\nWEATHER AT LISKEARD.\n\n \u201cThe south wind always brings wet weather;\n The north wind, wet and cold together.\n The west wind always brings us rain;\n The east wind blows it back again.\n If the sun in red should set,\n The next day surely will be wet;\n If the sun should set in gray,\n The next will be a rainy day.\u201d\n\n _Bond\u2019s Looe._\n\n\nTHE FIRST BUTTERFLY.\n\n\u201cOne of the superstitions prevailing in Devonshire is, that any\nindividual neglecting to kill the first butterfly he may see for the\nseason, will have ill luck throughout the year.\u201d[68] The following\nrecent example is given by a young lady:\u2014\u201cThe other Sunday, as we were\nwalking to church, we met a man running at full speed, with his hat in\none hand, and a stick in the other. As he passed us he exclaimed, \u2018I\nshan\u2019t hat \u2019en now, I b\u2019lieve.\u2019 He did not give us time to inquire what\nhe was so eagerly pursuing; but we presently overtook an old man, whom\nwe knew to be his father, and who, being very infirm, and upwards of\nseventy, generally hobbled about by the aid of two sticks. Addressing\nme, he observed, \u2018My _zin_ a took away wan a my sticks, miss; wan\u2019t be\nebble to kill\u2019n now though, I b\u2019lieve.\u2019 \u2018Kill what?\u2019 said I. \u2018Why, \u2019tis\na butterfly, miss,\u2014the _furst_ hee\u2019th a zeed for the year; and they\nzay that a body will have cruel bad luck if a ditn\u2019en kill a _furst_ a\nzeeth.\u2019\u201d\n\nI have found this belief prevailing in the east, but never in the west,\nof Cornwall.\n\n\nPECULIAR WORDS AND PHRASES.\n\n\u201cThe people in the west,\u201d writes a correspondent, \u201chave adopted many\nwords from the Danish invaders.\u201d Tradition assures us that the sea-rovers\nof the North frequently landed at Witsand Bay, burned and pillaged the\nvillages of Escols and Mayon, sometimes took off the women, but never\nmade a settlement. Certain red-haired families are often referred to\nas Danes, and the dark-haired people will not marry with \u201ca red-haired\nDane.\u201d He continues:\u2014\u201cIf you were in Buryan Church-town this evening,\nyou might probably hear Betty Trenoweth say, \u2018I\u2019ll take off my _touser_,\n[toute serve,] and run up to Janey Angwins to _cousey_ [causer] a spell;\nthere\u2019s a lot of boys gone in there, so there\u2019ll be a grand _courant_,\n[de courir,] I expect.\u2019 In a short time Betty may come back disappointed,\nsaying, \u2018\u2019Twas a mere _cow\u2019s courant_ after all, cheld vean\u2014all hammer\nand tongs.\u2019\u201d\n\nThe _touser_ is a large apron or wrapper to come quite round and keep the\nunder garments clean. By a _courant_ with the boys, they mean a game of\nrunning romps. It is not at all uncommon in other parts of the country\nto hear the people say, \u201cIt was a fine _courant_,\u201d \u201cWe\u2019ve had a good\n_courant_,\u201d when they intend to express the enjoyment of some pleasure\nparty. These are, however, probably more nearly allied to Norman-French.\n\nThere are some proverbial expressions peculiar to the west:\u2014\n\n\u201cSow barley in dree, and wheat in pul.\u201d[69]\n\n\u201cTo make an old nail good, right it on wood.\u201d\n\n\u201cFill the sack, then it can stand.\u201d\n\nThe last meaning that neither man nor beast can work on an empty stomach.\n\nThe following are a few of less common expressions, preserving remarkable\nwords:\u2014\n\n\u2019Tis not _bezibd_\u2014It is not allotted me.\n\nHe will never _scrip_ it\u2014He will never escape it.\n\nHe is nothing _pridy_\u2014He is not handsome.\n\nGive her _dule_\u2014Give her some comfort or consolation.\n\nHark to his _lidden_\u2014Listen to his word or talk.\n\nIt was _twenty_ or _some_\u2014It was about twenty.\n\nThe wind brings the _pilme_\u2014The wind raises the dust.\n\nHow thick the _brusse_ lies\u2014How thick the dust lies.\n\nHe is _throyting_\u2014He is cutting chips from sticks.\n\nHe came of a good _havage_\u2014He belongs to a good or respectable family.\n\n_Hame_\u2014a straw collar with wooden collar-trees, to which are fastened the\nrope traces.\n\n_Scalpions_ (_buckthorn_, or rather _buckhorn_)\u2014salt dried fish, usually\nthe whiting.\n\n\u201cEating fair maids, or fermades\u2014(_fumadoes_)\u2014[pilchards,] and drinking\nmahogany, [gin and treacle.]\u201d\n\n\n\n\nMISCELLANEOUS STORIES.\n\n \u201cFarewell, rewards and fairies,\n Good housewives now may say;\n For now foul sluts in dairies\n Do fare as well as they.\n\n ...\n\n \u201cA tell-tale in their company\n They never could endure;\n And who kept not secretly\n Their mirth, was punish\u2019d sure.\u201d\n\n _Farewell to the Fairies_\u2014RICHARD CORBET.\n\n\n\n\nVARIOUS ROMANCES & SUPERSTITIONS.\n\n\nTHE BELLS OF FORRABURY CHURCH.\n\n \u201cThe Cornish drolls are dead, each one;\n The fairies from their haunts have gone:\n There\u2019s scarce a witch in all the land,\n The world has grown so learn\u2019d and grand.\u201d\n\n HENRY QUICK, _the Zennor Poet_.\n\nTo this day the tower of Forrabury Church, or, as it is called by Mr\nHawker, \u201cthe silent tower of Bottreaux,\u201d remains without bells. \u201cAt\nForrabury the chimes have never sounded for a marriage, the knell has\nnever been heard for a funeral.\u201d\u2014_Collins._\n\nIn days long ago, the inhabitants of the parish of Forrabury\u2014which does\nnot cover a square mile, but which now includes the chief part of the\ntown of Boscastle and its harbour\u2014resolved to have a peal of bells which\nshould rival those of the neighbouring church of Tintagel, which are said\nto have rung merrily at the marriage, and tolled solemnly at the death,\nof Arthur.\n\nThe bells were cast; the bells were blessed; and the bells were shipped\nfor Forrabury. Few voyages were more favourable; and the ship glided,\nwith a fair wind, along the northern shores of Cornwall, waiting for the\ntide to carry her safely into the harbour of Bottreaux.\n\nThe vesper bells rang out at Tintagel, and the pilot, when he heard the\nblessed sound, devoutly crossed himself, and bending his knee, thanked\nGod for the safe and quick voyage which they had made.\n\nThe captain laughed at the superstition of the pilot, as he called it,\nand swore that they had only to thank themselves for the speedy voyage,\nand that, with his arm at the helm, and his judgment to guide them, they\nshould soon have a happy landing. The pilot checked this profane speech;\nbut the wicked captain\u2014and he swore more impiously than ever that all was\ndue to himself and his men\u2014laughed to scorn the pilot\u2019s prayer. \u201cMay God\nforgive you!\u201d was the pilot\u2019s reply.\n\nThose who are familiar with the northern shores of Cornwall will know\nthat sometimes a huge wave, generated by some mysterious power in the\nwide Atlantic, will roll on, overpowering everything by its weight and\nforce.\n\nWhile yet the captain\u2019s oaths were heard, and while the inhabitants on\nthe shore were looking out from the cliffs, expecting, within an hour, to\nsee the vessel, charged with their bells, safe in their harbour, one of\nthese vast swellings of the ocean was seen. Onward came the grand billow\nin all the terror of its might. The ship rose not upon the waters as it\ncame onward. She was overwhelmed, and sank in an instant close to the\nland.\n\nAs the vessel sank, the bells were heard tolling with a muffled sound,\nas if ringing the death-knell of the ship and sailors, of whom the good\npilot alone escaped with life.\n\nWhen storms are coming, and only then, the bells of Forrabury, with their\ndull, muffled sound, are heard from beneath the heaving sea, a warning to\nthe wicked; and the tower has remained to this day silent.\n\n\nTHE TOWER OF MINSTER CHURCH.\n\n \u201cThe Minster of the Trees! a lonely dell,\n Deep with old oaks, and \u2019mid their quiet shade,\n Gray with the moss of years, yon antique cell!\n Sad are those walls: the cloister lowly laid,\n Where pacing monks at solemn evening made\n Their chanted orisons: and as the breeze\n Came up the vale, by rock and tree delay\u2019d,\n They heard the awful voice of many seas\n Blend with thy pausing hymn, thou Minster of the Trees!\u201d\n\n HAWKER.\n\nOn a visit to this old church, which is allowed to perish under the\ninfluences of damp and the accompanying vegetable growth, in a way\nwhich is but little creditable to the parishioners, I was struck at the\nevidence that the tower had either been taken down or that it had fallen.\nAmidst the long grass of the churchyard I found many remains of carved\nstones, which clearly belonged at one time to the tower. I sought for\nsome information, but I could obtain none. The officiating clergyman,\nand several gentlemen of Boscastle, were alike ignorant of any tradition\nconnected with the tower\u2014the prevalent idea being that it was left\nunfinished.\n\nAt length, the ostler at the inn informed me that the story of the\ndestruction of the tower ran thus:\u2014\n\nThe tower of the church of the ancient abbey was seen through the gorge\nwhich now forms the harbour of Boscastle, far out at sea. The monks were\nin the habit of placing a light in one of the windows of the tower to\nguide the worshippers, at night, to the minster.\n\nFrequently sailors mistook this, by day for some landmark, and at night\nfor a beacon, and were thus led into a trap from which they could not\neasily extricate themselves, and within which they often perished.\nThis accident occurred so frequently that the sailors began at last to\ndeclare their belief that the monks purposely beguiled them to their\nfate, hinting, indeed, that plunder was their object. Eventually, a band\nof daring men, who had been thus lured into Boscastle, went to the abbey,\nand, in spite of the exertions made by the monks, they pulled down the\ntower, since which time it has never been rebuilt.\n\n\nTEMPLE MOORS.\n\nThe parish of Temple in 1851 had a population of 24. Yet once the Knights\nTemplars built a church here; and with the purpose of civilising the\ninhabitants of the moors in the midst of which it was founded, they\nsecured for their temple some special privileges. \u201cMany a bad marriage\nbargain,\u201d says Tonkin, \u201cis there yearly slubbered up, and grass widows\nwith their fatlings put to lie-in and nurse here.\u201d \u201cSend her to Temple\nMoors,\u201d implied that any female requiring seclusion might at one time\nsecure it under the charge of these Christian knights in this their\npreceptory, and be returned to the world again, probably, in all\nrespects, a better woman. At all events, the world, being in ignorance,\ndid not repudiate the erring sister.\n\nStories linger over this wilderness of mixed good and evil. The church,\nwhich was consecrated to the great cause of saving sinners, has perished.\nNo stone remains to tell us where it stood; and to \u201csend her to Temple\nMoors,\u201d is to proclaim a woman an outcast from society.\n\n\nTHE LEGEND OF TAMARA.\n\nThe lovely nymph Tamara was born in a cavern. Although her parents were\nspirits of the earth, the child loved the light of day. Often had they\nchided her for yielding to her desires and visiting the upper world; and\noften had they warned her against the consequences which would probably\narise from her neglect of their advice.\n\nThe giants of the moors were to be feared; and it was from these that the\nearth spirits desired to protect their child.\n\nTamara\u2014beautiful, young, heedless\u2014never lost an opportunity of looking on\nthe glorious sun. Two sons of Dartmoor giants\u2014Tavy and Tawrage\u2014had seen\nthe fair maid, and longed to possess her. Long was their toil, and the\nwild maiden often led them over mountain and moor in playful chase.\n\nUnder a bush in Morewinstow, one day, both Tavy and Tawrage came upon\nTamara. They resolved now to compel her to declare upon which of them her\nchoice should fall. The young men used every persuasion, and called her\nby every endearing name. Her parents had missed Tamara, and they sought\nand found her seated between the sons of the giants whom they hated.\nThe gnome father caused a deep sleep to fall on the eyes of Tavy and\nTawrage, and then he endeavoured to persuade his daughter to return to\nhis subterranean cell.\n\nTamara would not leave her lovers. In his rage the gnome cursed his\ndaughter, and, by the might of his curse, changed her into a river, which\nshould flow on for ever to the salt sea. The lovely Tamara dissolved in\ntears, and, as a crystal stream of exceeding beauty, the waters glided\nonward to the ocean.\n\nAt length Tavy awoke. His Tamara was gone; he fled to his father in the\nhills. The giant knew of the metamorphosis, and, to ease the anguish of\nhis son, he transformed him into a stream. Rushing over rocks, running\nthrough morasses, gliding along valleys, and murmuring amidst the groves,\nTavy still goes on seeking for Tamara\u2014his only joy being that he runs by\nher side, and that, mingling their waters, they glide together to the\neternal sea.\n\nTawrage awakened after a long sleep. He divined what had taken place, and\nfled to the hills to an enchanter. At his prayer he, too, was changed\nto a stream; but he mistook the road along which Tamara had gone, and\nonward, ever sorrowing, he flows\u2014away\u2014away\u2014away from his Tamara for ever.\n\nThus originated the Tamar, the Tavy, and the Taw.\n\n\nTHE CHURCH AND THE BARN.\n\nThe Daunays were great people in their day; but many of them bore\nindifferent characters.\n\nSir John de Daunay was a strange mixture of ostentatious pride and\npenuriousness. His Lady Emelyn was as proud as her husband, but\nextravagant to a fault.\n\nThe priests of St Germans persuaded Sir John to build a church on his\nlands at Sheviock. He commenced the work, and, notwithstanding his great\nwealth, his heart failed him and he curtailed the fair proportions on\nwhich he had at first decided.\n\nEmelyn was enraged at this; and it is said, that, prompted by the devil\nin visible presence, she resolved to build a barn which should exceed in\nbeauty the house of God.\n\nThe barn rose with astonishing rapidity. Stones were laid at night, and\nthe work proceeded as if the most lavish expenditure had been bestowed\nupon it. The church progressed but slowly, and was, after all, a very\ninferior structure to the barn. The devil, without doubt, having assisted\nLady Daunay in her wicked work.\n\n\u201cThere runneth a tale amongst the parishioners how one of the Daunay\nfamily\u2019s ancestors undertook to build the church, and the wife the barn\nadjoining; and that, casting up accounts on finishing their work, the\nbarn was found to have cost 1\u00bdd. more than the church.\u201d[70]\n\nThe Daunay aisle in Sheviock Church still preserves the name of this\nfamily, who appear to have possessed at one time nearly all this, and\nmuch of the adjoining parish.\n\n\nTHE PENRYN TRAGEDY.\n\n \u201cNews from Penryn, in Cornwall, of a most bloody and unexampled\n Murder.\u201d\n\nSuch was the title of a black-letter pamphlet of eight pages referred to\nby Lysons. This curious book does not appear to be in existence.\n\nMr Davies Gilbert, who possessed much property in the parish of Gluvias,\nwas especially interested in the farm of Bohelland, the place which has\nbeen rendered for ever notorious, as having been the scene of Lillo\u2019s\ntragedy of \u201cFatal Curiosity.\u201d\n\nFrom a work entitled \u201cThe Reign and Death of King James of Great\nBritain,\u201d Mr Gilbert quotes as follows:\u2014\n\n \u201cHe had been blessed with ample possessions and fruitful\n issue, unhappy only in a younger son, who, taking liberty\n from his father\u2019s bounty, and with a crew of like condition,\n that wearied on land, they went roving to sea, and in a small\n vessel southward, took boot from all they could master. And\n so increasing force and wealth, ventured on a Turk\u2019s man\n in the Streights; but by mischance their own powder fired\n themselves, and our gallant, trusting to his skilful swimming,\n got on shore upon Rhodes; with the best of his jewels about\n him; where, offering some to sale to a Jew, who knew them\n to be the Governor\u2019s of Algier, he was apprehended, and, as\n a pirate, sentenced to the galleys among other Christians,\n whose miserable slavery made them all studious of freedom, and\n with wit and valour took opportunity and means to murder some\n officers, got on board of an English ship, and came safe to\n London; where his misery, and some skill, made him servant to\n a surgeon, and sudden preferment to the East Indies. There,\n by this means, he got money; with which returning back, he\n designed himself for his native county, Cornwall. And in a\n small ship from London, sailing to the west, was cast away\n upon that coast. But his excellent skill in swimming, and\n former fate to boot, brought him safe to shore; where, since\n his fifteen years\u2019 absence, his father\u2019s former fortunes much\n decayed, now retired him not far off to a country habitation,\n in debt and danger.\n\n \u201cHis sister he finds married to a mercer, a meaner match\n than her birth promised. To her, at first, he appears a poor\n stranger, but in private reveals himself, and withal what\n jewels and gold he had concealed in a bow-case about him;\n and concluded that the next day he intended to appear to his\n parents, and to keep his disguise till she and her husband\n should meet, and make their common joy complete. Being come\n to his parents, his humble behaviour, suitable to his suit of\n clothes, melted the old couple to so much compassion as to give\n him covering from the cold season under their outward roof; and\n by degrees his travelling tales, told with passion to the aged\n people, made him their guest so long by the kitchen fire, that\n the husband took leave and went to bed. And soon after his true\n stories working compassion in the weaker vessel, she wept, and\n so did he; but compassionate of her tears, he comforted her\n with a piece of gold, which gave assurance that he deserved a\n lodging, to which she brought him; and being in bed, shewed her\n his girdled wealth, which he said was sufficient to relieve\n her husband\u2019s wants, and to spare for himself, and being very\n weary, fell fast asleep.\n\n \u201cThe wife tempted with the golden bait of what she had,\n and eager of enjoying all, awakened her husband with this\n news, and her contrivance what to do; and though with horrid\n apprehensions he oft refused, yet her puling fondness (Eve\u2019s\n enchantments) moved him to consent, and rise to be master of\n all, and both of them to murder the man, which instantly they\n did; covering the corpse under the clothes till opportunity to\n convey it out of the way.\n\n \u201cThe early morning hastens the sister to her father\u2019s house,\n where she, with signs of joy, inquires for a sailor that should\n lodge there the last night; the parents slightly denied to have\n seen any such, until she told them that he was her brother,\n her lost brother; by that assured scar upon his arm, cut with\n a sword in his youth, she knew him; and were all resolved this\n morning to meet there and be merry.\n\n \u201cThe father hastily runs up, finds the mark, and with horrid\n regret of this monstrous murder of his own son, with the same\n knife cuts his own throat.\n\n \u201cThe wife went up to consult with him, where, in a most strange\n manner beholding them both in blood, wild and aghast, with the\n instrument at hand, readily rips herself up, and perishes on\n the same spot.\n\n \u201cThe daughter, doubting the delay of their absence, searches\n for them all, whom she found out too soon; with the sad sight\n of this scene, and being overcome with horror and amaze of\n this deluge of destruction, she sank down and died; the fatal\n end of that family. The truth of which was frequently known,\n and flew to court in this guise; but the imprinted relation\n conceals their names, in favour to some neighbour of repute\n and kin to that family. The same sense makes me therein silent\n also.\u201d\u2014_Gilbert_, vol. ii. p. 100.\n\nMr Harris of Salisbury, in his \u201cPhilological Inquiries,\u201d says of Lillo\u2019s\ntragedy:\u2014\n\n\u201cIt is no small praise to this affecting fable that it so much resembles\nthe \u2018\u0152dipus Tyrannus\u2019 of Sophocles. In both tragedies, that which\napparently leads to joy, leads in its completion to misery; both\ntragedies concur in the horror of their discoveries, and both in those\ngreat outlines of a truly tragic revolution, (according to the nervous\nsentiment of Lillo himself,)\u2014\n\n \u2018the two extremes of life,\n The highest happiness the deepest woe,\n With all the sharp and bitter aggravations\n Of such a vast transition.\u2019\u201d\n\n\nGOLDSITHNEY FAIR AND THE GLOVE.\n\nOn the 5th of August, St James\u2019s day, (old style,) a fair is held here,\nwhich was originally held in the Church-town of Sithney, near Helston.\n\nIn olden time the good _St Perran the Little_ gave to the wrestlers\nin his parish a glove as the prize, and the winner of the glove was\npermitted to collect the market toll on the day of the feast, and to\nappropriate the money to his own use. The winner of the glove lived in\nthe Church-town of Sithney, and for long long years the right of holding\nthe fair remained undisputed.\n\nAt length the miners of Goldsithney resolved to contest the prize, and\nthey won it, since which time the fair has been held in that village,\nthey paying to the poor of the parish of Sithney one shilling as\ncompensation.\n\nGilbert remarks, \u201cThe displaying of a glove at fairs is an ancient and\nwidely-extended custom. Mr Lysons says it is continued at Chester. The\neditor has seen a large ornamented glove over the guildhall at Exeter\nduring the fairs.\u201d[71]\n\n\nTHE HARLYN PIE.\n\n\u201cAdjoining the Church of Constantine, in the parish of St Merryn, was\na cottage which a family of the name of Edwards held for generations,\nunder the proprietors of Harlyn, by the annual render of a pie, made of\nlimpets, raisins, and various herbs, on the eve of the festival in honour\nof the saint to whom the church was dedicated. The pie, as I have heard\nfrom my family, and from more ancient members of the family, and from\nold servants, was excellent. The Edwards had pursued for centuries the\noccupation of shepherds on Harlyn and Constantine commons. The last died\nabout forty years ago, and the wreck of their cottage is almost buried in\nthe sand.\u201d[72]\n\n\nPACKS OF WOOL THE FOUNDATION OF THE BRIDGE OF WADEBRIDGE.\n\nLovebone was the vicar of Wadebridge, and there was a ferry across the\nriver. It was a frequent custom for the farmers to ride their horses and\nto drive their cattle across when the tide was low, and frequently men\nand beasts were lost in the quicksands formed on the rising of the tide.\nA sad accident of this kind happened, and Lovebone resolved on building\na bridge; as Leland says in his \u201cItinerary,\u201d \u201cThen one Lovebone, vicar\nof Wadebridge, moved with pitie, began the bridge, and with great paine\nand studie, good people putting their help thereto, finished it with xvii\nfair and great uniform arches of stone.\u201d\n\nGreat was the labour, and frequent the disappointment. Pier after pier\nwere built, and then they were lost in the sands. A \u201cfair structure\u201d\nwas visible at night, in the morning there was no trace of the work of\nthe masons. Lovebone almost despaired of success, indeed he was about\nto abandon the work, when he dreamed that an angel came with a flock\nof sheep, that he sheared them, let the wool fall into the water, and\nspeedily built the bridge upon the wool.\n\nLovebone awoke with a new idea. He gathered from the farmers around, all\nthe wool they would give him, he put it loosely into packs, placed these\nthickly upon the sand, and built his piers. The work remains to this day\nin proof of the engineering skill of the suggesting angel.[73]\n\nQuoting Beaumont and Fletcher\u2019s \u201cKnight of the Burning Pestle,\u201d we find\nthe Citizen saying to the Prologue:\u2014\n\n\u201cWhy could you not be content as well as others, with the Legend of\nWhittington? or the Life and Death of Sir Thomas Gresham, with the\nbuilding of the Royal Exchange? or the Story of Queen Eleanor, with the\nrearing of London Bridge upon woolsacks?\u201d\n\n\nTHE LAST WOLF IN ENGLAND.\n\nThe extirpation of the wolves, which once existed in every part of these\nislands, is an oft-told story.\n\nBut it is not generally known that the last native wolf lived in the\nforests of Ludgvan, near Penzance. The last of his race was a gigantic\nspecimen, and terrible was the havoc made by him on the flocks. Tradition\ntells us that at last he carried off a child. This could not be endured,\nso the peasantry all turned out, and this famous wolf was captured at\nRospeith, the name of a farm still existing in Ludgvan.\n\n\nCHURCHES BUILT IN PERFORMANCE OF VOWS.\n\nThere are several churches which, tradition tells us, owe their origin\nto vows made by terrified men that they would, if relieved from their\ndangers, build a temple to God.\n\nAmongst these may be named Brent Tor, thus spoken of by Mr Bray:\u2014\n\n\u201cThe church of Brent Tor is dedicated to St Michael. And there is\na tradition among the vulgar that its foundation was originally\nlaid at the foot of the hill; but that the enemy of all angels, the\nPrince of Darkness, removed the stones by night from the base to the\nsummit,\u2014probably to be nearer his own dominion, the air,\u2014but that,\nimmediately on the church\u2019s being dedicated to St Michael, the patron of\nthe edifice hurled upon the devil such an enormous mass of rock, that\nhe never afterwards ventured to approach it. Others tell us that it was\nerected by a wealthy merchant, who vowed, in the midst of a tremendous\nstorm at sea, (possibly addressing himself to his patron, St Michael,)\nthat if he escaped, he would build a church on the first land he\ndescried.\u201d[74]\n\nBrent Tor is a very remarkable hill, and can be seen far off at sea. This\nmay possibly lend some support to the latter tradition.\n\nSt Anthony, in Kerrier, is likewise stated to be the consequence of a\nvow. Soon after the Conquest, as some persons of rank and fortune were\ncoming to England from Normandy, they were overtaken by a violent storm,\nfrom which they expected immediate destruction. In the midst of their\ndistress, they directed their prayers to St Anthony, and laid themselves\nunder a solemn vow to erect a church to his memory, if he would save\nthem from shipwreck; and that this church should be erected on the very\nspot where they should first get on shore. Driven by the tempest, they\nwere conducted, by a power fully equal to that which St Anthony might be\nsupposed to possess, into St Mawes\u2019 harbour, and happily landed on that\nvery spot where the church now stands. And it appears that the materials\nwith which the tower is built, and the situation which the church and\ntower occupy, are calculated to give sanction to this tradition.\n\n\nBOLAIT, THE FIELD OF BLOOD.\n\nTradition asserts that it was on the spot, so called in the parish of\nBurian, that the last battle was fought between the Cornish Britons and\nAthelstan. This is in some measure confirmed by the discovery of flint\narrow-heads, in considerable quantities, from time to time, in and near\nthis \u201cfield of slaughter.\u201d\n\nWe have little beyond the evidence of tradition to guide us in regard\nto any of the triumphs of Athelstan in Cornwall. It appears tolerably\ncertain that this Saxon king confined the Cornish Britons to the western\nside of the Tamar; thus breaking up the division known as Danmonium, and\nlimiting the territory over which the kings of the west ruled.\n\nScattered over Cornwall, we have the evidence, in the names of places,\nof Saxon possession. In all probability these were the resting-places of\nportions of the Saxon army, or the district in which fortified camps were\nplaced by Athelstan, to restrain a turbulent people. Be this as it may,\nthe battle at Bolait is said to have raged from morning until night, and\nthen, overpowered by numbers, the Cornish who still survived fled to the\nhills, and thus left Athelstan the conqueror.\n\nIt was after this fight that Athelstan, seeing the Islands of Scilly\nillumined by the setting sun, determined, if possible, to achieve their\nconquest. He then recorded his vow, that he would, if he returned\nvictorious, build a church, which should be dedicated to St Buryana. Of\nthis church Hals writes as follows:\u2014\n\n\u201cBURIAN.\n\n\u201cThis church was founded and endowed by King Athelstan, about the year\n930, after such time as he had conquered the Scilly Islands, as also the\ncounty of Devon, and made Cornwall tributary to his sceptre. To which\nchurch he gave lands and tithes of a considerable value for ever, himself\nbecoming the first patron thereof, as his successors the kings of England\nhave been ever since; for which reason it is still called the royal\nrectory, or regal rectory, and the royal or regal peculiar; signifying\nthereby that this is the church or chapel pertaining to the king, or\nimmediately under the jurisdiction of him, as the supreme ordinary from\nwhom there is no appeal; whereas other peculiars, though exempt from the\nvisitation or jurisdiction of the diocesan bishop within whose see they\nstand, yet are always subject to the provincial Archbishops of Canterbury\nand York, or other persons.\n\n\u201cThis church or college consisted of canons, Augustines or regular\npriests, and three prebendaries, who enjoyed the revenues thereof in\ncommon, but might not marry; and the lord chancellors of England of old\nvisited this peculiar\u2014which extended only over the parishes of Burian,\nSennen, and St Levan\u2014for the king.\n\n\u201cOne of the Popes of Rome, about the time of Edward III., obtruded upon\nthis church, the canons and prebends thereof, a dean to be an inspector\nand overseer over them,\u2014whom he nominated to be the Bishop of Exon for\nthe time being,\u2014who for some time visited this church as its governor,\nas the lord chancellor did before; which encroachment of the Pope being\nobserved by Edward III., as appears from the register of the writs, folio\n40 and 41, 8 Edward III., rot. 97, this usurpation of the Pope was taken\naway.\u201d\n\n\nWOEFUL MOOR, AND BODRIGAN\u2019S LEAP.\n\nThe Bodrigans, from a very early period, were connected with the borough\nof Looe. Otto, or Otho de Bodrigan, was lord of the manor of Pendrim and\nLooe in the reign of Edward II. Another Otho de Bodrigan was Sheriff of\nCornwall in the 3d of Richard II., A.D. 1400.\n\nSir Henry Bodrigan was \u201cattaynted for taking part with King Richard\nIII. against Henry VII.; and, after flying into Ireland, Sir Richard\nEgecombe, father of Sir Pears Egecombe, had Bodrigan, and other parcels\nof Bodrigan\u2019s lands; and Trevanion had part of Bodrigan\u2019s lands, as\nRestronget and Newham, both in Falmouth Haven.\u201d\n\nOn the Barton of Bodrigan there exists what are evidently the remains of\nancient fortifications, and near them a piece of waste land known as the\n_Woeful Moor_.\n\nHere Sir Henry Edgecombe and Trevanion defeated the great Bodrigan. He\nfled, and tradition preserves, on the side of the cliff, the spot known\nas Bodrigan\u2019s leap, from which he leapt into the sea, and swam to a ship\nwhich kept near the shore. As he leapt the precipice, he bequeathed,\nwith a curse, \u201chis extravagance to the Trevanions, and his folly to the\nEdgecombes.\u201d\n\nThese families divided between them an estate said to be worth, in those\ndays, \u00a310,000 per annum.\n\n\u201cAt that period in our history when the law of the strongest was the\nrule, three families in Cornwall were engaged in a series of domestic\nwars; these were Bodrigan, Trevanion, and Edgecumbe. And when Richard\nthe Third obtained sovereign power, on the division which then took\nplace in the York faction, Bodrigan endeavoured to seize the property\nof Edgecumbe, with little respect, as it would seem, for the life of\nthe possessor; but in the final struggle at Bosworth Field, where Henry\nTudor put an entire end to this contest for power under the guise of\nproperty, by seizing the whole to himself, Trevanion and Edgecumbe had\nthe good fortune to appear on the winning side, and subsequently availed\nthemselves to the utmost of belligerent rights against Bodrigan, as he\nhad attempted to do before against them. The last of that family was\ndriven from his home, and seems to have perished in exile. His property\nwas divided between the two families opposed to him, and, after the lapse\nof three hundred and fifty years, continues to form a large portion of\ntheir respective possessions.\u201d\u2014_Gilbert_, vol. iii., p. 204.\n\nWilliam de Bodrigan was lord of the manor of Restronget, in the 12th of\nHenry IV. The family possessed it till the beginning of the reign of\nHenry VII., when, on the attainder of Bodrigan, it was given to William\nTrevanion.[75]\n\n\nPENGERSWICK CASTLE.\n\nThis castellated building\u2014for it does not now admit of being called\na castle, notwithstanding its embattled turrets and its machicolated\ngate\u2014is situated in a hollow running down to Pengerswick Cove, in the\nMount\u2019s Bay, where there never could have been anything to defend; and\ncertainly there is nothing to induce any one to incur the cost of such a\nbuilding.\n\nMr Milliton, in the reign of Henry VIII., slew in the streets of London a\nman in a drunken brawl. He fled, and went to sea. It is not known to what\npart of the world he went, but we are told that he became excessively\nrich; so rich, indeed, that \u201cwhen he loaded his ass with his gold, the\nweight was so great as to break the poor animal\u2019s back.\u201d Returning to his\ncountry, and not daring to appear in any of the large towns, he bought\nthe manor of Pengerswick, and built this castle, to defend himself, in\nthe event of his being approached by any of the officers of the law.\n\nA miserable man, Milliton is said to have lived in a secret chamber in\nthis tower, and to have been visited only by his most trusted friends.\nDeeply deploring the crime that had condemned him to seclusion from the\nworld, he spent his dreary hours in ornamenting his dwelling. His own\nstory is supposed to be told in the painting of an overladen ass in one\nroom, with a black-letter legend, importing that a miser is like an ass\nloaded with riches, who, without attending to his golden burden, feeds on\nthistles. There is also a carving of water wearing a hollow in a stone,\nand under it the word \u201cPerseverance.\u201d Of the death of Milliton we have no\naccount.\n\nThere is very little doubt but that Pengerswick Castle is very much older\nthan the time of Milliton; indeed tradition informs us that he purchased\nthe place. The legends previously given, and others in my possession,\nrefer to a much earlier period. This castle was, it is said, surrounded\nby trees; but John Hals, who inherited the property, had all the timber\ncut down and sold.\n\n\nTHE CLERKS OF CORNWALL.\n\n\nI.\n\n\u201cIn the last age there was a familiarity between the parson and the clerk\nand the people which our feelings of decorum would revolt at\u2014_e.g._, \u2018I\nhave seen the ungodly flourish like a _green bay_-tree.\u2019 \u2018How can that\nbe, maister?\u2019 said the clerk of St Clement\u2019s. Of this I was myself an\near-witness.\u201d\n\n\nII.\n\n\u201cAt Kenwyn, two dogs, one of which was the parson\u2019s, were fighting at\nthe west end of the church; the parson, who was then reading the second\nlesson, rushed out of the pew and went down and parted them; returning to\nhis pew, and doubtful where he had left off, he asked the clerk, \u2018Roger,\nwhere was I?\u2019 \u2018Why, down parting the dogs, maister,\u2019 said Roger.\u201d\n\n\nIII.\n\n\u201cAt Mevagizzey, when non-resident clergymen officiated, it was usual\nwith the squire of the parish to invite them to dinner. Several years\nago, a non-resident clergyman was requested to do duty in the church of\nMevagizzey on a Sunday when the Creed of St Athanasius is directed to be\nread. Before he had begun the service, the parish clerk asked him whether\nhe intended to read the Athanasian Creed that morning. \u2018Why?\u2019 said the\nclergyman. \u2018Because if you do, no dinner for you at the squire\u2019s, at\nPenwarne.\u2019\u201d\n\n\nIV.\n\n\u201cA very short time since parish clerks used to read the first lesson.\nI once heard the St Agnes clerk cry out, \u2018To the mouth of the burning\n_viery vurnis_, and spake, and said, Shadrac, Meshac, and Abednego, _com\nvoath and com hether_,\u2019 (Daniel iii.)\u201d\n\n\nV.\n\n\u201cThe clerk of Lamorran, in giving out the psalm, \u2018Like a timorous bird\nto distant mountains fly,\u2019 always said, \u2018Like a timmersum burde,\u2019 &c.,\n&c., with a shake of the head, and a quivering voice, which could not but\nprovoke risibility.\u201d[76]\n\n\nA FAIRY CAUGHT.\n\nThe following, communicated to me on the 8th of August, is too good to be\nlost. I therefore give it in my correspondent\u2019s own words:\u2014\n\n\u201cI heard last week of three fairies having been seen in Zennor very\nrecently. A man who lived at the foot of Trendreen hill, in the valley\nof Treridge, I think, was cutting furze on the hill. Near the middle\nof the day he saw one of the small people, not more than a foot long,\nstretched at full length and fast asleep, on a bank of griglans, (heath,)\nsurrounded by high brakes of furze. The man took off his furze cuff, and\nslipped the little man into it, without his waking up; went down to the\nhouse; took the little fellow out of the cuff on the hearthstone, when he\nawakened, and seemed quite pleased and at home, beginning to play with\nthe children, who were well pleased with the small body, and called him\nBobby Griglans.\n\n\u201cThe old people were very careful not to let Bob out of the house, or be\nseen by the neighbours, as he promised to shew the man where the crocks\nof gold were buried on the hill. A few days after he was brought from the\nhill, all the neighbours came with their horses (according to custom)\nto bring home the winter\u2019s reek of furze, which had to be brought down\nthe hill in trusses on the backs of the horses. That Bob might be safe\nand out of sight, he and the children were shut up in the barn. Whilst\nthe furze-carriers were in to dinner, the prisoners contrived to get\nout, to have a \u201ccourant\u201d round the furze-reek, when they saw a little\nman and woman, not much larger than Bob, searching into every hole and\ncorner among the trusses that were dropped round the unfinished reek. The\nlittle woman was wringing her hands and crying, \u2018Oh, my dear and tender\nSkillywidden, wherever canst ah (thou) be gone to? shall I ever cast\neyes on thee again? \u2018Go \u2019e back,\u2019 says Bob to the children; \u2018my father\nand mother are come here too.\u2019 He then cried out, \u2018Here I am, mammy!\u2019 By\nthe time the words were out of his mouth, the little man and woman, with\ntheir precious Skillywidden, were nowhere to be seen, and there has been\nno sight nor sign of them since. The children got a sound thrashing for\nletting Skillywidden escape.\u201d\n\n\nTHE LIZARD PEOPLE.\n\nThere is a tradition that the Lizard people were formerly a very inferior\nrace. In fact it is said that they went on all fours, till the crew of a\nforeign vessel, wrecked on the coast, settled among them, and improved\nthe race so much that they became as remarkable for their stature and\nphysical development as they had been before for the reverse. At this\ntime, as a whole, the Lizard folks certainly have among them a very large\npopulation of tall people, many of the men and women being over six feet\nin height.\n\n\nPRUSSIA COVE AND SMUGGLERS\u2019 HOLES.\n\nSmugglers\u2019 hiding-places (now, of course, unused) are numerous. On the\nbanks of the Helford river are several, and two or three have lately\nbeen discovered on the coast about St Keverne by the falling in of their\nroofs. In a part of Penzance harbour, nine years ago, a hiding-place\nof this kind was discovered; it still contained one or two kegs, and\nthe skeleton of a man, with his clothes in good preservation. It is\npresumed that the poor fellow while intoxicated was shut in, and the\nplace never more opened by his companions. Speaking of Penzance\u2014about\nfifty years since, in the back of the harbour, was an old adit called\n\u201cGurmer\u2019s Hole,\u201d and in the cliff over its entrance, _on a dark night_, a\nphosphorescent appearance was always visible from the opposite side. It\ncould not be seen from beneath, owing to the projection of the face of\nthe cliff. A fall of the part taking place, the phenomenon disappeared.\n\nSixty or seventy years since, a native of Breage called \u201cCarter,\u201d but\nbetter known, from a most remarkable personal resemblance to Frederick\nthe Great, as the \u201cKing of Prussia,\u201d monopolised most of the smuggling\ntrade of the west. By all accounts he was a man of uncommon mental power,\nand chose as the seat of his business a sequestered rocky cove about two\nmiles east of Marazion, which continues to bear the name of \u201cPrussia\nCove,\u201d and where deep channels, cut in hard rock, to allow of the near\napproach of their boats, still shew the determination of the illicit\ntraders. Although constantly visited by the excise officers, the \u201cking\u201d\nrarely failed to remove his goods, the stocks of which were at times very\nlarge, suffering for a long period comparatively little from \u201cseizures.\u201d\nOn one occasion his boats, while landing a cargo, being hard pressed by\nthe revenue cutter, Carter had some old cannon brought to the edge of\nthe cliff and opened fire on the unwelcome intruder, and after a short\nbut sharp engagement, fairly beat her off. The cutter was, of course,\nback again early in the morning, and part of the crew, with the captain,\nlanded; the only traces, however, of the engagement to be seen was the\ntrampled ground. On approaching Carter\u2019s house, the officer was met by\nthe \u201cking\u201d himself, with an angry remonstrance about practising the\ncutter\u2019s guns at midnight so near the shore, and disturbing his family at\nsuch unseemly hours. Although the principal parties concerned were well\nknown, no evidence could be obtained, and the matter was allowed to drop.\nToward the close of his career, Carter \u201cventured\u201d in larger ships, became\nless successful, and was at last exchequered. He died, at a very advanced\nage, in poor circumstances.\n\n\nCORNISH TEENY-TINY.\n\nMr Halliwell gives us, in his \u201cPopular Rhymes and Nursery Tales,\u201d the\nstory of Teeny-tiny. In this a little old woman takes a bone from the\nchurchyard to make soup. She goes to bed, and puts the bone in the\ncupboard. During the night some one comes demanding the bone, and at\nlength the terrified old woman gives it up.\n\nA similar story is told in Cornwall.\n\nAn old lady had been to the church in the sands of Perranzabuloe. She\nfound, amidst the numerous remains of mortality, some very good teeth.\nShe pocketed these, and at night placed them on her dressing-table before\ngetting into bed. She slept, but was at length disturbed by some one\ncalling out, \u201cGive me my teeth\u2014give me my teeth.\u201d At first the lady took\nno notice of this, but the cry, \u201cGive me my teeth,\u201d was so constantly\nrepeated, that she at last, in terror, jumped out of bed, took the\nteeth from the dressing-table, and, opening the window, flung them out,\nexclaiming, \u201cDrat the teeth, take \u2019em.\u201d They no sooner fell into the\ndarkness on the road, than hasty retreating footsteps were heard, and\nthere were no more demands for the teeth.\n\n\nTHE SPANIARD AT PENRYN.\n\nIn the reign of James I. there happened to be upon our coast a Spanish\nvessel of war. Favoured by the mists of evening and the growing darkness,\nthe ship entered Falmouth harbour unseen. The crew armed themselves,\nand taking to their boats, proceeded with great caution to the town of\nPenryn, situated at the head of the harbour. There they landed, formed\nthemselves into proper order, and marched into the town, purposing\nto plunder the inhabitants and burn the town. With steady tramp they\ncautiously proceeded up the dark main street, resolving to attack the\nprincipal dwellings first. Suddenly a great shout was heard, drums and\ntrumpets sounded, the noise of many feet rushing to and fro fell on the\nears of the Spaniards. Believing that they were discovered, and that\npreparations had been made for their reception, fear seized them, and\nthey fled precipitately to their boats and left the town. The martial\nmusic proceeded, however, from a temporary theatre, in which a troop of\nstrolling players were entertaining the people.\n\n\nBOYER, MAYOR OF BODMIN.\n\nIn the reign of Edward VI., Boyer was the mayor of Bodmin, and he\nappears to have been suspected of aiding in an insurrection of the men\nof Devonshire and Cornwall. However this may be, Sir Anthony Kingston,\nprovost-marshal of the king\u2019s army, sent orders to Boyer to have a gibbet\nerected in the street opposite his own house by the next day at noon. He,\nat the same time, sent his compliments to the mayor, telling him that he\nshould dine with him, in order to be present at the execution of some\nrebels.\n\nThe unsuspecting mayor obeyed the command, and at the time appointed\nprovided an entertainment for his guest. Kingston put about the wine, and\nwhen he observed the mayor\u2019s spirits were exhilarated, asked him if the\ngibbet was ready. Being told that it was, with a wanton and diabolical\nsneer he ordered the mayor to be hanged upon it.\n\nAt the same time a miller was ordered to be hanged; his servant was so\ndeeply attached to him, that he went to Kingston and begged him to spare\nhis master\u2019s life, even if he hung him in his place. \u201cIf you are so fond\nof hanging,\u201d said Kingston, \u201cyou shall not be disappointed,\u201d and he\nhanged the miller and his servant together.\n\nA similar story is told of a mayor of St Ives.\n\n\nTHOMASINE BONAVENTURE.\n\nIn the reign of Henry VI., about the year 1450, in the parish of Week\nSt Mary, on the northern coast of Cornwall, was born of humble parents\na girl, to whom the name of Thomasine was given. This child was in no\nway distinguished from other Cornish children; they ever have been, and\nstill are, remarkable for their healthful beauty, and Thomasine, like\nothers, was beautiful. Her father was a small farmer, and the daughter\nwas usually employed in minding the sheep upon Greenamore, or preventing\nthe geese from straying too far from his dwelling.\n\nThomasine appears to have received no education beyond that which nature\ngave her. She grew to womanhood a simple, artless maiden, who knew\nnothing of the world or its cares beyond the few sorrows which found\ntheir way into the moorland country of Week and Temple.\n\nThomasine was watching her flocks when a mounted traveller, with\nwell-filled saddle-bags, passing over the moors observed her. Struck by\nthe young woman\u2019s beauty, he halted and commenced a conversation with\nher. \u201cHer discreet answers, suitable to the beauty of her face, much\nbeyond her rank or degree,\u201d says the quaint Hals, \u201cwon upon him, and he\ndesired to secure her as a servant in his family.\u201d This traveller, who\nwas a draper from London, sought out the parents of the shepherdess,\nand proposed to relieve them of this daughter, by taking her to the\nmetropolis, promising her good wages and many privileges; and beyond this\nhe agreed that, in case he should die, seeing she would be so far removed\nfrom her friends, she should be carefully provided for.\n\nHaving satisfied themselves of the respectability of this merchant\ntraveller, the parents agreed to part with their daughter; and\nThomasine, full of girlish curiosity to see the city, of which she had\nheard, was willing to leave her home.\n\nWe next find Thomasine in London as a respected servant to this city\ndraper. His wife and family are pleased with the innocent Cornish\ngirl; and by her gentle manners and great goodness of heart, she won\nupon all with whom she was brought in contact. Years passed away, and\nthe draper\u2019s wife died. In the course of time he proposed to make the\nfaithful Thomasine his wife. The proposal was accepted, and \u201cThomasine\nand her master were solemnly married together as man and wife; who then,\naccording to his promise, endowed her with a considerable jointure in\ncase of her survivorship.\u201d Within two years of this marriage the draper\ndied, and Thomasine was left sole executrix. The poor servant, who but\na few years previous was minding sheep on the moors, was now a rich\nwidow, courted by the wealthy of the metropolis. With that good sense\nwhich appears ever to have distinguished her, she improved her mind; and\nfollowing the examples by which she had been for some time surrounded,\nshe added to her natural graces many acquired elegances of manner.\n\nThe youth and beauty of the widow brought her numerous admirers, but\nall were rejected except Henry Gale, of whom we know little, save that\nhe was \u201can eminent and wealthy citizen.\u201d He was accepted, and Thomasine\nGale was the most toasted of all city madams. After a few years passed in\ngreat happiness, Thomasine became again a widow. Gale left her all his\nproperty, and she became, when not yet thirty years of age, one of the\nwealthiest women in London. So beautiful, so rich, and being yet young,\nthe widow was soon induced to change her state again. She chose now for\nher companion John Percivall, who was already high in the honours of the\ncorporation.\n\nAt the feast of Sir John Collet, who was Lord Mayor in the second year\nof the reign of Henry VII., in 1487, Percivall was the mayor\u2019s carver,\n\u201cat which time, according to the custom of that city, Sir John drank to\nhim in a silver cup of wine, in order to make him sheriff thereof for the\nyear ensuing, whereupon he covered his head and sat down at table with\nthe Lord Mayor of London.\u201d John Percivall was elected Lord Mayor himself\nin 1499, and he was knighted in the same year by Henry VII. Sir John\nPercivall and Dame Thomasine Percivall lived many years happily together;\nbut he died, leaving all his fortune to his widow.\n\nLady Percivall was now advanced in years. She had had three husbands,\nbut no children. The extraordinary accession of fortune made no change\nin her simple honest heart; the flattery of the great, by whom she had\nbeen surrounded, kindled no pride in the beautiful shepherdess. The home\nof her childhood, from which she had been so long separated, was dear to\nher, and she retired in her mourning to the quiet of that distant home.\n\nShe spent her declining years in good works. Roads were made and bridges\nbuilt at her cost; almshouses for poor maids were erected; she relieved\nprisoners; fed the hungry, and clothed the naked. In Week St Mary,\nThomasine founded a chantry and free school \u201cto pray for the souls of her\nfather and mother, and her husbands and relatives.\u201d To the school she\nadded a library, and a dwelling for the chanters and others, \u201cand endowed\nthe same with \u00a320 lands for ever.\u201d Cholwell, a learned man and great\nlinguist, was master here in Henry VIII.\u2019s time; and here he educated in\nthe \u201cliberal arts and sciences,\u201d says Carew, \u201cmany gentlemen\u2019s sons.\u201d\nSuch were a few of the benefits conferred on Week by the girl who once\nhad tended the flocks upon the moors; but who, by great good fortune,\nand more by the exercise of good sense, became Lady Mayoress.\n\nDame Thomasine Percivall died, respected by all who knew her, in 1530,\nhaving then reached the good old age of eighty years.\n\nIt appears probable that the name Bonaventure, by which this remarkable\nfemale is usually known, was given to her, likely enough, by the linguist\nCholwell, to commemorate her remarkable fortune.\n\nBerry Comb, in Jacobstow, was once the residence of Thomasine, and it was\ngiven at her death to the poor of St Mary Week.\n\n\nTHE LAST OF THE KILLIGREWS.\n\nLady Jane, the widow of Sir John Killigrew, sate in one of the windows\nof Arwenick House, looking out upon the troubled waters of Falmouth\nHarbour. A severe storm had prevailed for some days, and the Cornish\ncoast was strewn with wrecks. The tempest had abated; the waves were\nsubsiding, though they still beat heavily against the rocks. A light\nscud was driving over the sky, and a wild and gloomy aspect suffused all\nthings. There was a sudden outcry amongst a group of men, retainers of\nthe Killigrew family, which excited the attention of Lady Jane Killigrew.\nShe was not left long in suspense as to the cause. In a few minutes two\nDutch ships were seen coming into the harbour. They had evidently endured\nthe beat of the storm, for they were both considerably disabled; and\nwith the fragments of sail which they carried, they laboured heavily. At\nlength, however, these vessels were brought round within the shelter of\nPendennis; their anchors were cast in good anchoring-ground; and they\nwere safe, or at least the crew thought so, in comparatively smooth\nwater.\n\nAs was the custom in those days, the boat belonging to the Killigrew\nfamily, manned by the group of whom we have already spoken, went off as\nsoon as the ships were anchored and boarded them. They then learnt that\nthey were of the Hanse Towns, laden with valuable merchandise for Spain,\nand that this was in the charge of two Spanish factors. On the return of\nthe boat\u2019s crew, this was reported to Lady Killigrew; and she being a\nvery wicked and most resolute woman, at once proposed that they should\nreturn to the ships, and either rob them of their treasure, or exact from\nthe merchants a large sum of money in compensation. The rude men, to whom\nwrecking and plundering was but too familiar, were delighted with the\nprospect of a rare prize; and above all, when Lady Killigrew declared\nthat she would herself accompany them, they were wild with joy.\n\nWith great shouting, they gathered together as many men as the largest\nboat in the harbour would carry, and armed themselves with pikes, swords,\nand daggers. Lady Jane Killigrew, also armed, placed herself in the stern\nof the boat after the men had crowded into their places, and with a wild\nhuzza they left the shore, and were soon alongside of the vessel nearest\nto the shore. A number of the men immediately crowded up the side and on\nto the deck of this vessel, and at once seized upon the captain and the\nfactor, threatening them with instant death if they dared to make any\noutcry. Lady Jane Killigrew was now lifted on to the deck of the vessel,\nand the boat immediately pushed off, and the remainder of the crew\nboarded the other ship.\n\nThe Dutch crew were overpowered by the numbers of Cornishmen, who were\narmed far more perfectly than they. Taken unawares as they were, at a\nmoment when they thought their troubles were for a season at an end, the\nDutchmen were almost powerless.\n\nThe Spaniards were brave men, and resisted the demands made to deliver up\ntheir treasure. This resistance was, however, fatal to them. At a signal,\nit is said by some, given by their leader, Lady Jane Killigrew,\u2014although\nthis was denied afterwards,\u2014they were both murdered by the ruffians into\nwhose hands they had fallen, and their bodies cast overboard into the sea.\n\nThese wretches ransacked the ships, and appropriated whatsoever they\npleased, while Lady Jane took from them \u201ctwo hogsheads of Spanish pieces\nof eight, and converted them to her own use.\u201d\n\nAs one of the Spanish factors was dying, he lifted his hands to Heaven,\nprayed to the Lord to receive his soul, and turning to the vile woman to\nwhose villany he owed his death, he said, \u201cMy blood will linger with you\nuntil my death is avenged upon your own sons.\u201d\n\nThis dreadful deed was not allowed to pass without notice even in those\nlawless times. The Spaniards were then friendly with England, and\nupon the representation made by the Spanish minister to the existing\ngovernment, the sheriff of Cornwall was ordered to seize and bring to\ntrial Lady Jane Killigrew and her crew of murderers. A considerable\nnumber were arrested with her; and that lady and several of her men were\ntried at Launceston.\n\nSince the Spaniards were proved to be at the time of the murder\n\u201cforeigners under the Queen\u2019s protection,\u201d they were all found guilty,\nand condemned to death.\n\nAll the men were executed on the walls of Launceston Castle; but by the\ninterest of Sir John Arundell and Sir Nicholas Hals, Queen Elizabeth was\ninduced to grant a pardon for Lady Jane.\n\nHow Lady Jane Killigrew lived, and when she died, are matters on which\neven tradition, by which the story is preserved, is silent. We know,\nhowever, that her immediate descendant, John Killigrew, who married one\nof the Monks, and his son William Killigrew, who was made a baronet in\n1660 by Charles II., were only known for the dissoluteness of character,\nand the utter regardlessness of every feeling of an exalting character,\nwhich they displayed. Sir William Killigrew, by his ill conduct and his\nextravagant habits, wasted all the basely-gotten treasure, and sold\nthe manor and barton of Arwenick to his younger brother, Sir Peter\nKilligrew. With the son of this Peter the baronetcy became extinct. The\nlast Sir Peter Killigrew, however, improved his fortune by marrying one\nof the coheirs of Judge Twisden. Sir Peter and his wife, of whom we know\nnothing, died, leaving one son, George Killigrew, who connected himself\nwith the St Aubyn family by marriage. This man appears to have inherited\nmany of the vices of his family. He was given to low company, and towards\nthe close of his life was remarkable only for his drunken habits.\n\nHe was one evening in a tavern in Penryn, surrounded by his usual\ncompanions, and with them was one Walter Vincent, a barrister-at-law.\nThe wine flowed freely; songs and loose conversation were the order of\nthe night. At length all were in a state of great excitement through\nthe extravagance of their libations, and something was said by George\nKilligrew very insultingly to Walter Vincent.\n\nWalter Vincent does not appear to have been naturally a depraved man, but\nof violent passions. Irritated by Killigrew, he made some remarks on the\ngreat-grandmother being sentenced to be hanged. Swords were instantly\ndrawn by the drunken men. They lunged at each other. Vincent\u2019s sword\npassed directly through Killigrew\u2019s body, and he fell dead in the midst\nof his revelries, at the very moment when he was defending the character\nof her who had brought dishonour upon them.\n\nThis Walter Vincent was tried for the murder of George Killigrew, but\nacquitted. We are told by the Cornish historian, \u201cYet this Mr Vincent,\nthrough anguish and horror at this accident, (as it was said,) within\ntwo years after, wasted of an extreme atrophy of his flesh and spirits;\nthat, at length, at the table whereby he was sitting, in the Bishop of\nExeter\u2019s palace, in the presence of divers gentlemen, he instantly fell\nback against the wall and died.\u201d\n\nGeorge Killigrew left one daughter; but of her progress in life we know\nnothing. Thus the Cornish Killigrews ceased to be a name in the land.\n\nSuch a tale as this does not, of course, exist without many remarkable\nadditions. Ghosts and devils of various kinds are spoken of as\nfrequenting Arwenick House, and the woods around it. Those spectral and\ndemoniacal visitations have not, however, any special interest. They are\nonly, indeed, repetitions of oft-told tales.\n\n\nSAINT GERENNIUS.\n\nThis reached me at too late a period to be included with the legends of\nthe saints:\u2014\n\n\u201cThe beacon at Veryan stands on the highest ground in Roseland, at a\nshort distance from the cliff which overlooks Pendower and Gerrans Bay.\nDr Whitaker, in his \u2018Cathedral of Cornwall,\u2019 states it to be one of\nthe largest tumuli in the kingdom. Its present height above the level\nof the field in which it stands is about twenty-eight feet, and its\ncircumference at the base three hundred and fifty feet; but it must have\nbeen originally much larger, as a considerable portion on one side has\nbeen removed, its summit being now about eighty feet from the base on\nthe south side, and only fifty feet on the north, whilst the top of the\ncairn which was discovered in it, and which was, no doubt, placed exactly\nin the original centre of the mound, is at least ten feet still further\nnorth than the present summit.\n\n\u201cA tradition has been preserved in the neighbourhood, that Gerennius,\nan old Cornish saint and king, whose palace stood on the other side of\nGerrans Bay, between Trewithian and the sea, was buried in this mound\nmany centuries ago, and that a golden boat with silver oars were used in\nconveying his corpse across the bay, and were interred with him. Part of\nthis tradition receives confirmation from an account incidentally given\nof King Gerennius, in an old book called the \u2018Register of Llandaff.\u2019 It\nis there stated that, A.D. 588, Teliau, bishop of Landaff, with some\nof his suffragan bishops, and many of his followers, fled from Wales,\nto escape an epidemic called the yellow plague, and migrated to Dole\nin Brittany, to visit Sampson, the archbishop of that place, who was a\ncountryman and friend of Teliau\u2019s. \u2018On his way thither,\u2019 says the old\nrecord, \u2018he came first to the region of Cornwall, and was well received\nby Gerennius, the king of that country, who treated him and his people\nwith all honour. From thence he proceeded to Armorica, and remained there\nseven years and seven months; when, hearing that the plague had ceased in\nBritain, he collected his followers, caused a large bark to be prepared,\nand returned to Wales.\u2019 \u2018In this,\u2019 the record proceeds, \u2018they all arrived\nat the port called Din-Gerein, king Gerennius lying in the last extreme\nof life, who, when he had received the body of the Lord from the hand of\nSt Teliau, departed in joy to the Lord.\u2019 \u2018Probably,\u2019 says Whitaker, in\nhis remarks on this quotation, \u2018the royal remains were brought in great\npomp by water from Din-Gerein, on the western shore of the port, to\nCarne, about two miles off on the northern; the barge with the royal body\nwas plated, perhaps, with gold in places; perhaps, too, rowed with oars\nhaving equally plates of silver upon them; and the pomp of the procession\nhas mixed confusedly with the interment of the body in the memory of\ntradition.\u2019\u201d\n\n\nCORNISH DIALOGUE.\n\nAs the Cornish dialogue peculiarly illustrates a description of literary\ncomposition which has no resemblance to that of any other county, I think\nit advisable to give one specimen:\u2014\n\n DIALOGUE BETWEEN MAL TRELOARE AND SAUNDRY KEMP.\n\n \u2019Twas Kendle teening, when jung Mal Treloare\n Trudg\u2019d hum from Bal, a bucken copper ore;\n Her clathing hard and ruff, black was her eye,\n Her face and arms like stuff from Cairn Kye.\n Full butt she mit jung Saundry Kemp, who long\n She had been token\u2019d to, come from Ding Dong;\n Hes jacket wet, his faace rud like his beard,\n And through his squarded hat hes hair appeared.\n She said, \u201cOh, Kemp, I thoft of thee well leer,\n Thees naw that daay we wor to Bougheehere,\n That daay with ale and cakes, at three o\u2019clock,\n Thees stuff\u2019d me so, I jist neen crack\u2019d me dock:\n Jue said to me, \u2018Thee mayst depend thee life,\n I love thee, Mal, and thee shust be ma wife.\u2019\n And to ma semmen, tes good to lem ma naw\n Whether the words were aal in jest or no.\u201d\n _Saundry._ Why, truly, Mal, I like a thing did zay,\n That I wud have thee next Chewiden daay.\n But zence that time I like a think ded hear\n Thees went wi\u2019 some one down, \u2018I naw where;\u2019\n Now es that fitty, Mal? What dost think?\n _Mal._ Od rot tha body, Saundry, who said so?\n Now, faath and traath, I\u2019ll naw afore I go;\n Do lem me naw the Gossenbary dog.\n _Saundry._ Why, then, Crull said jue wor down to Wheal Bog\n With he and Tabban, and ded make some tricks\n By dabben clay at jungsters making bricks;\n Aand that from there jue went to Aafe-waye house,\n Aand drink\u2019t some leeker. Mal, now there\u2019s down souse.\n Aand jue to he, like a thing ded zay,\n Jue wed have he, and I mait go away.\n _Mal._ I tell the lubber so! I to Wheal Bog!\n I\u2019ll scatt his chacks, the emprent, saucy dog.\n Now hire me, Saundry Kemp, now down and full,\n Ef thee arten hastes, thee shust hire the whole.\n Fust jue must naw, tes true as thee art there,\n Aant Blanch and I went to Golsinny feer.\n Who overtookt us in the doosty road,\n In common hum but Crull, the cloppen toad.\n Zes he to Aant, \u201cWhat cheer? Aant Blanch, what cheer?\n Jue makes good coose, suppose jue been to feer.\u201d\n \u201cWhy, hiss,\u201d zes Aant, \u201cben there a pewer spur.\n I wedn\u2019t a gone ef nawed ed been so fur.\n I bawft a pair of shods for Sarah\u2019s cheeld.\u201d\n By this time, lock! we cum jist to the field.\n We went to clemmer up the temberen style.\n (Haw kept his eye upon me all the while.)\n Zes hem to Aant, \u201cThen whos es thees braa maide?\n Come tha wayst long, dasent be afraid.\u201d\n Then mov\u2019d my side, like a thing,\n Aand pull\u2019d my mantle, and just touch\u2019d my ching,\n \u201cHow arry, jung woman?\u201d zes haw. \u201cHow dost do?\u201d,\n Zes I, \u201cJue saucy dog, what\u2019s that to jue?\n Keep off, jung lad, else thees have a slap.\u201d\n Then haw fooch\u2019d some great big doat figs in me lap.\n So I thoft, as haw had been so kind,\n Haw might go by Aant Blanch, ef haw had a mind.\n Aand so haw ded, aand tookt Aant Blanch\u2019s arm.\n \u201cAraeh!\u201d zes haw, \u201cI dednt mane no harm.\u201d\n So then Aant Blanch and he ded talk and jest\n Bout dabbing clay and bricks at Petran feast.\n _Saundry._ Ahah then, Mal, \u2019twas there they dabbed the clay?\n _Mal._ Plaase Father, Kemp, tes true wot I do saay.\n And hire me now, pla-sure, haw dedent budge\n From Aanty\u2019s arm till jest this side Long Brudge.\n Aand then zes he to Aant, \u201cShall we go in\n To Aafe-way house, and have a dram of gin\n And trickle mixt? Depend ol do es good,\n Taake up the sweat, and set to rights the blud.\u201d\n So Aant did saay, \u201cSuch things she dedn\u2019t chuse,\u201d\n And squeezed my hand, aand loike a thing refuse.\n So when we pass\u2019d along by Wheal Bog moor,\n Haw jumpt behind, and pok\u2019t es in the door.\n Haw caal\u2019d for gin, aand brandy too, I think.\n He clunk\u2019d the brandy, we the gin did drink.\n So when haw wish\u2019d good night, as es the caase,\n Haw kiss\u2019t Aant Blanch, and jist neen touched my face.\n Now, Saundry Kemp, there\u2019s nothing shure in this,\n To my moinde, then, that thee shust take amiss.\n _Saundry._ No, fath, then Mal, ef this is all aand true,\n I had a done the same ef I was jue.\n _Mal._ Next time in any house I see or near am,\n I\u2019ll down upon the plancheon, rat am, tear am,\n Aand I will so poaw am.\n _Saundry._ Our Kappen\u2019s there, just by thickey bush.\n Hush! now Mally, hush!\n Aand as hes here, so close upon the way,\n I wedent wish haw nawed what we did zay,\n And jett I dedent care, now fath and soul,\n Ef so be our Kappen wor to hire the whole.\n How arry Kappen? Where be going so fast?\n Jure goin\u2019 hum, suppose, jure in sich haste.\n _Kappen._ Who\u2019s that than? Saundry, arten thee ashamed\n To coosy so again? Thee wust be blamed\n Ef thees stay here all night to prate wi\u2019 Mal!\n When tes thy cour, thee wusten come to Bal.\n Aand thee art a Cobbe, I tell thee so.\n I\u2019ll tell the owners ef thee dosent go.\n _Saundry._ Why, harkee, Kappen, doant skoal poor I.\n Touch pipe a crum, jue\u2019ll naw the reason why.\n Cozen Mal aand I ben courtain bout afe a year.\n Hould up tha head, Mal; don\u2019t be ashamed, dost hire?\n Aand Crull one day made grief \u2019tween I and she;\n But he shall smart for it now, I swear by G\u2014\u2014.\n Haw told me lies, as round as any cup.\n Now Mal and I have mit, we\u2019ve made it up;\n So, Kappen, that\u2019s the way I stopt, I vow.\n _Kappen._ Ahah! I dedent giss the case jist now.\n But what dost think of that last batch of ore?\n _Saundry._ Why pewer and keenly gossen, Kappen, shure\n I bleeve that day, ef Frankey\u2019s pair wornt drunk,\n We shud had pewer stuff too from the sump.\n But there, tes all good time, as people saay,\n The flooken now, aint throw\u2019d es far away;\n So hope to have bra tummells soon to grass.\n How did laast batch down to Jandower pass?\n _Kappen._ Why, hang thy body, Saundry, speed, I saay,\n Thees keep thy clacker going till tes day.\n Go speak to Mally now, jue foolish toad.\n I wish both well, I\u2019ll keep my road.\n _Saundry._ Good nightie, Kappen, then I wishee well.\n Where artee, Mally? Dusten haw hire me, Mal?\n Dusent go away, why jue must think of this,\n Before we part, shure we must have a kiss.\n\n _She wiped her muzzle from the mundic stuff_,\n _And he rubb\u2019d his, a little stain\u2019d with snuff_.\n\n Now then, there, good night Mal, there\u2019s good night;\n But, stop a crum.\n _Mally._ Good night.\n _Kappen._ Good night.\n\n_Keendle teening_, candle lighting.\n\n_Squarded hat_, broken or cracked hat.\n\n_Lem ma naw_, let me know, tell me.\n\n_Wheal Bog_, wheal, or, correctly spelt, huel, is old Cornish, and\nsignifies a mine or work.\n\n_Doat figs_, broad figs.\n\n_A cobbe_, a cobbler, a bungler.\n\n_Bra tummills_, brave heaps, large piles of ore.\n\n\n\n\nFOOTNOTES\n\n\n[1] Another tradition affirms that one of the sons of Cyrus lies buried\nbeneath the Longstone.\n\n[2] See 1st Series, p. 198.\n\n[3] St Breock or Briock, a bishop of a diocese in Armorica, is said to\nhave been the patron saint of St Breage. But there is a Cornish distich,\n\u201cGermow Mathern, Breaga Lavethas.\u201d Germoe was a king, Breaga a midwife,\nwhich rather favours the statement that St Breage was a sister of St\nLeven. Breage and Germoe are adjoining parishes, having the shores of\nthe Mount\u2019s Bay for their southern boundaries. When the uncultivated\ninhabitants of this remote region regarded a wreck as a \u201cGod-send,\u201d and\nplundered without hesitation every body, living or dead, thrown upon\nthe shore, these parishes acquired a melancholy notoriety. The sailors\u2019\npopular prayer being,\n\n \u201cGod keep us from rocks and shelving sands,\n And save us from Breage and Germoe men\u2019s lands.\u201d\n\nHappily those days are almost forgotten. The ameliorating influences of\nthe Christian faith, which was let in upon a most benighted people by\nJohn Wesley, like a sunbeam, dispelled those evil principles, and gave\nbirth to pure and simple virtues.\n\n[4] Leland, cited by William of Worcester from the Cornish Calendar at St\nMichael\u2019s Mount. Michell\u2019s \u201cParochial History of Saint Neot\u2019s.\u201d\n\n[5] Carew\u2019s Survey, Lord Dedunstanville\u2019s edition, p. 305. See \u201cThe Well\nof St Keyne,\u201d by Robert Southey, in his \u201cBallads and Metrical Tales,\u201d\nvol. i.; or of Southey\u2019s collected works, vol. vi.\n\nSt Keyne, or St Kenna, is said to have visited St Michael\u2019s Mount, and\nimparted this peculiar virtue to a stone chair on the tower.\n\n[6] See Gilbert, vol. iii. p. 329. See Appendix A. The name of this saint\nis written Piran, Peran, and Perran.\n\n[7] _See_ Perran-Zabuloe, with an Account of the Past and Present State\nof the Oratory of St Piran in the Sands, and Remarks on its Antiquity. By\nthe Rev. Wm. Haslam, B.A., and by the Rev. Collins Trelawney.\n\nSt Kieran, the favourite Celtic saint, reached Scotland from Ireland, the\nprecursor of St Columba, (565 A.D.) \u201cThe cave of St Kieran is still shewn\nin Kintyre, where the first Christian teacher of the Western Highlands is\nbelieved to have made his abode.\u201d\u2014_Wilson\u2019s Prehistoric Annals._\n\nThere is a curious resemblance between the deeds and the names of those\ntwo saints.\n\n[8] See Appendix B.\n\n[9] See Appendix C.\n\n[10] TINTAGEL is the usual name. Gilbert, in his \u201cParochial History,\u201d has\nit, \u201cDUNDAGELL, _alias_ DYNDAGELL, _alias_ BOSITHNEY;\u201d in \u201cDoomsday-book\u201d\nit is called \u201cDUNECHEINE.\u201d Tonkin writes \u201cDindagel or Daundagel,\u201d and\nsometimes DUNGIOGEL. \u201cA King Nectan, or St Nectan, is said to have built\nnumerous churches in several parts of Scotland, as well as in other parts\nof the kingdom of the Northern Picts.\u201d\u2014_Wilson\u2019s Prehistoric Annals of\nScotland._\n\n[11] It is called indifferently Nectan, Nathan, Nighton, or Knighton\u2019s\nKieve.\n\n[12] Rambles beyond Railways. By Wilkie Collins. Mr Collins was curiously\nmisled by those who told him the tradition. The building which these\nstrange solitary women inhabited was St Nectan\u2019s, or, as he and many\nothers write it, St Nighton\u2019s, Chapel, and not a cottage. They died, as\nMr Collins describes it; but either he, or those from whom he learned\nthe tale, has filled in the picture from imagination. I perceive, on\nreferring to Mr Walter White\u2019s admirable little book, \u201cA Londoner\u2019s Walk\nto the Land\u2019s End,\u201d that he has made the same mistake about the cottage.\n\n[13] Appendix D.\n\n[14] Parochial History, vol. iii. p. 423.\n\n[15] It is curious that the farm over which some of this water flows is\ncalled \u201cCollurian\u201d to this day.\n\n[16] See another story of this wretched woman in the section devoted to\nDemons and Spectres. 1st Series.\n\n[17] Hals, speaking of Gulval Well, thus describes it and its\nvirtues:\u2014\u201cIn Fosses Moor, part of this manor of Lanesly, in this parish,\nis that well-known fountain called Gulval Well. To which place great\nnumbers of people, time out of mind, have resorted for pleasure and\nprofit of their health, as the credulous country people do in these days,\nnot only to drink the waters thereof, but to inquire after the life\nor death of their absent friends; where, being arrived, they demanded\nthe question at the well whether such a person by name be living, in\nhealth, sick, or dead. If the party be living and in health, the still\nquiet water of the well-pit, as soon as the question is demanded, will\ninstantly bubble or boil up as a pot, clear crystalline water; if sick,\nfoul and puddle waters; if the party be dead, it will neither bubble,\nboil up, nor alter its colour or still motion. However, I can speak\nnothing of the truth of those supernatural facts from my own sight or\nexperience, but write from the mouths of those who told me they had seen\nand proved the veracity thereof. Finally, it is a strong and courageous\nfountain of water, kept neat and clean by an old woman of the vicinity,\nto accommodate strangers, for her own advantage, by blazing the virtues\nand divine qualities of those waters.\u201d\u2014_Hals, quoted by Gilbert_,\n_Parochial History of Cornwall_, vol. ii. p. 121.\n\n[18] \u201cTales of the West,\u201d by the author of \u201cLetters from the East.\u201d\n\n[19] The tale of \u201cThe Legend of Pacorra.\u201d\n\n[20] \u201cPopular Tales of the West Highlands,\u201d by J. F. Campbell. (See page\n134, vol. ii.)\n\n[21] Notes and Queries.\n\n[22] Gilbert, vol. i. p. 291.\n\n[23] Carew.\n\n[24] \u201cPopular Rhymes and Nursery Tales,\u201d by James O. Halliwell.\n\n[25] See \u201cThomas of the Thumb, or _T\u00f3mas na h\u2019ordaig_,\u201d Tale lxix.\n\u201cPopular Tales of the West Highlands,\u201d by J. F. Campbell.\n\n[26] \u201cPopular Rhymes and Nursery Tales,\u201d by James O. Halliwell.\n\n[27] Camden\u2019s \u201cBritannica,\u201d by Gough, vol. i., p. 139. From this author\nwe do not learn much. Indeed he says\u2014\u201cAs to that Constantine, whom Gildas\ncalls \u2018that tyrannical whelp of the impure Danmonian lioness,\u2019 and of the\ndisforesting of the whole country under King John, before whose time it\nwas all forest, let historians tell\u2014it is not to my purpose.\u201d vol. i. p.\n8.\n\n[28] Milton\u2019s \u201cHistory of Britain,\u201d edit. 1678, p. 155.\n\n[29] Vellan (mill), druchar (wheel.)\n\n[30] Carew says, \u201ca promontory, (by _Pomp. Mela_, called Bolerium; by\n_Diodorus_, Velerium; by _Volaterane_, Helenium; by the Cornish, Pedn an\nlaaz; and by the English, the Land\u2019s-End.)\u201d\u2014_Survey of Cornwall._\n\n[31] Pen\ua783i\u00f0\ua785\ua787eo\ua783\ua787.\u2014The name of the Land\u2019s-End in the Saxon map; in the\ntext, Camden prints Pen\ua783ih\ua787\ua785\ua787eo\ua783\ua787.\n\n[32] \u201cCASTELL-AN-DINAS.\u2014In the parish of St Colomb Major stands a castle\nof this name. Near this castle, by the highway, stands the Coyt, a stony\ntumulus so called, of which sort there are many in Wales and Wiltshire,\nas is mentioned in the \u2018Additions to Camden\u2019s Britannia\u2019 in these places,\ncommonly called the Devil\u2019s Coyts. It consists of four long stones of\ngreat bigness, perpendicularly pitched in the earth contiguous with each\nother, leaving only a small vacancy downwards, but meeting together at\nthe top; over all which is laid a flat stone of prodigious bulk and\nmagnitude, bending towards the east in way of adoration, (as Mr Lhuyd\nconcludes of all those Coyts elsewhere,) as the person therein under\nit interred did when in the land of the living; but how or by what art\nthis prodigious flat stone should be placed on the top of the others,\namazeth the wisest mathematicians, engineers, or architects to tell or\nconjecture. Colt, in Belgic-British, is a cave, vault, or cott-house, of\nwhich coyt might possibly be a corruption.\u201d\u2014_Gilbert\u2019s Parochial History._\n\n[33] In the Manor of Lambourn is an ancient barrow, called Creeg Mear,\nthe Great Barrow, which was cut open by a labourer in search of stones\nto build a hedge. He came upon a small hollow, in which he found nine\nurns filled with ashes; the man broke them, supposing they were only old\npitchers, good for nothing; but Tonkin, who saw them, believes them to\nhave been Danish, containing the ashes of some chief commanders slain in\nbattle; and, says he, on a small hill just under this barrow is a Danish\nencampment, called Castle Caer Dane, vulgo Castle Caer Don,\u2014_i.e._, the\nDanes\u2019 Camp,\u2014consisting of three entrenchments finished, and another\nbegun, with an intent to surround the inner three, but not completed; and\nopposite to this, about a bowshot, the river only running between, on\nanother hill is another camp or castle, called Castle Kaerkief, castrum\nsimile, from Kyfel similis, alike alluding to Castle Caer Dane. But this\nis but just begun, and not finished in any part, from which I guess\nthere were two different parties, the one attacking the other before the\nentrenchments were finished.\n\n[34] C. S. Gilbert\u2019s Historical Survey.\n\n[35] Gilbert.\n\n[36] See Popular Tales from the Norse. By George Webbe Dasent, D.C.L.\nLegends of Iceland, collected by J\u00f3n Arnason. Translated by George E. J.\nPowell and Eir\u00e9kur Magn\u00fasson.\n\n[37] _Notes and Queries_, vol. viii. p. 618.\n\n[38] \u201cI shall offer a conjecture touching the name of this place, which\nI will not say is right, but only probable. _Tin_ is the same as _Din_,\n_Dinas_, and _Dixeth_, deceit; so that _Tindixel_, turned, for easier\npronunciation, to _Tintagel_, _Dindagel_, or _Daundagel_, signifies\n_Castle of Deceit_, which name might be aptly given to it from the\nfamous deceit practised here by Uter Pendragon by the help of Merlin\u2019s\nenchantment.\u201d\u2014_Tonkin._\n\n\u201cMr Hals says this place is called _Donecheniv_ in \u2018Domesday Survey.\u2019\n_Dunechine_ would mean the fortress of the chasm, corresponding precisely\nwith its situation.\u201d\u2014_Davies Gilbert._\n\n[39] Gilbert, vol. ii. p. 402, _et seq._\n\n[40] Gruter\u2019s Collection of Ancient Inscriptions, quoted by J. C.\nPritchard.\n\n[41] The Parson\u2019s.\n\n[42] The Beacon.\n\n[43] See Appendix E.\n\n[44] See Appendix F, \u201c_Saracen_.\u201d\n\n[45] \u201cThey maintaine these works to have been verie auncient, and first\nwrought by the _Jewes_ with Pickaxes of Holme-Boxe and Hartshorne. They\nprove this by the name of those places yet enduring, to wit, _Attall\nSarazin_, in English, the _Jewes Offcast_, and by those tooles daily\nfound amongst the rubble of such workes.\u201d\u2014_Survey of Cornwall. Carew._\n(Appendix F.)\n\n[46] Is this supported by the statement of Dr Stillingfleet, Bishop of\nWorcester, who says, \u201cThe Christian religion was planted in the Island of\nGreat Britain during the time of the apostles, and probably by St Paul\u201d?\n\n[47] \u201cSome are sent, like the spirit Gathon in Cornwall, to work the will\nof his master in the mines.\u201d\u2014_Mrs Bray\u2019s Traditions of Devonshire._\n\nWho was the spirit Gathon?\n\n\u201cThe miner starts as he hears the mischievous Gathon answering blow for\nblow the stroke of his pickaxe, or deluding him with false fires, noises,\nand flames.\u201d\u2014_A Guide to the Coasts of Devon and Cornwall. Mackenzie\nWalcott, M.A._\n\nCarne, in his \u201cTales of the West,\u201d alludes to this:\u2014\u201cThe miners have\ntheir full share of the superstitious feelings of the country, and\noften hear with alarm the noises, as it were, of other miners at work\ndeep underground, and at no great distance. The rolling of the barrows,\nthe sound of the pickaxes, and the fall of the earth and stones, are\ndistinctly heard through the night,\u2014often, no doubt, the echo of their\nown labours; but sometimes continued long after that labour has ceased,\nand occasionally voices seem to mingle with them. Gilbert believed that\nhe was peculiarly exposed to these visitations; he had an instinctive\nshrinking from the place where the accident had happened; and, when\nleft alone there, it was in vain that he plied his toil with desperate\nenergy to divert his thoughts. Another person appeared to work very near\nhim: he stayed the lifted pick and listened. The blow of the other fell\ndistinctly, and the rich ore followed it in a loud rolling; he checked\nthe loaded barrow that he was wheeling; still that of the unknown workman\nwent on, and came nearer and nearer, and then there followed a loud,\nfaint cry, that thrilled through every nerve of the lonely man, for\nit seemed like the voice of his brother. These sounds all ceased on a\nsudden, and those which his own toil caused were the only ones heard,\ntill, after an interval, without any warning, they began again, at times\nmore near, and again passing away to a distance.\u201d\u2014_The Tale of the Miner._\n\n[48]\n\n \u201cNow well! now well! the angel did say\n To certain poor shepherds in the fields who lay\n Late in the night, folding their sheep;\n A winter\u2019s night, both cold and deep.\n Now well! now well! now well!\n Born is the King of Israel!\u201d\n\n[49] A tributer is a man who agrees with the adventurers in a mine to\nreceive a certain share of the profits on the ore raised by him in lieu\nof wages. This account is settled monthly or bi-monthly, which will\nexplain the phrase a \u201cpoor month.\u201d\n\n[50] \u201cThe man has still a good thick head of hair.\u2014C. F. S.\u201d\n\n[51] I am informed that there are no less than four of these cliff\nchapels between St Leven and St Loy, which was a larger building, where\nmass was probably celebrated.\n\n[52] Pilchards are called _par excellence_ \u201cfish.\u201d\n\n[53] Heva is shouted from the hills, upon which a watch is kept for the\napproach of pilchards by the \u201chuer,\u201d who telegraphs to the boats by\nmeans of bushes covered with white cloth, or, in modern days, with wire\nframes so covered. These signals are well understood, and the men in the\nseine and the other boats act according to the huer\u2019s directions. The\nfollowing song contains all the terms employed in this fishery; many of\nthem, especially _Could Roos_, do not appear to have any definite meaning\nattached to them.\n\nThe song is by the late C. Taylor Stevens of St Ives, who was for some\ntime the rural postman to Zennor. I employed Mr Taylor Stevens for some\ntime collecting all that remains of legendary tales and superstitions in\nZennor and Morva. The net is spelled sometimes Seine at others Sean.\n\n \u201cMERRY SEAN LADS.\n\n \u201cWith a cold north wind and a cockled sea,\n Or an autumn\u2019s cloudless day,\n At the huer\u2019s bid, to stem we row,\n Or upon our paddles play.\n All the signs, \u2018East, West, and Quiet,\n Could Roos,\u2019 too well we know;\n We can bend a stop, secure a cross,\n For brave sean lads are we!\n _Chorus_\u2014We can bend a stop, secure a cross,\n For brave sean lads are we!\n\n \u201cIf we have first stem when heva comes,\n We\u2019ll the huer\u2019s bushes watch;\n We will row right off or quiet lie,\n Flying summer sculls to catch.\n And when he winds the towboat round,\n We will all ready be,\n When he gives Could Roos, we\u2019ll shout hurrah!\n Merry sean lads are we!\n _Chorus_\u2014When he gives Could Roos, we\u2019ll shout hurrah!\n Merry sean lads are we!\n\n \u201cWhen the sean we\u2019ve shot, upon the tow,\n We will heave with all our might,\n With a heave! heave O! and rouse! rouse O!\n Till the huer cries, \u2018All right.\u2019\n Then on the bunt place kegs and weights,\n And next to tuck go we.\n We\u2019ll dip, and trip, with a \u2018Hip hurrah!\u2019\n Merry sean lads are we!\n _Chorus_\u2014We\u2019ll dip, and trip, with a \u2018Hip hurrah!\u2019\n Merry sean lads are we!\u201d\n\n[54] Hone\u2019s \u201cEvery-Day Book.\u201d\n\n[55] Spinning-wheel.\n\n[56] Every-Day Book.\n\n[57] On the Diseases of Cornish Miners. By William Wale Tayler, F.R.C.S.\n\n[58] When cattle or human beings have been bewitched, it was very\ncommonly thought that if a bottle of urine from the diseased beast or\nperson was obtained, then corked very tight and buried mouth downwards,\nthat the witch would be afflicted with strangury, and in her suffering\nconfess her crime and beg forgiveness.\n\n[59] Throb.\n\n[60] The invocation of the \u201cFather, Son, and Holy Ghost,\u201d invariably\naccompanies every form of charm.\n\n[61] Borlase\u2019s Observations on the Ancient and Present State of the\nIsland of Scilly.\u2014\u201cNotes and Queries,\u201d vol. x. p. 181. 1854.\n\n[62] The Survey of Cornwall. By Richard Carew.\n\n[63] Draw and Hitchin\u2019s Cornwall.\n\n[64] See also p. 216.\n\n[65] In Hugh Miller\u2019s \u201cScenes and Legends of the North of Scotland,\u201d\nedit. 1858, pp. 256, 257, will be found some stories of the flight of the\n\u201cherring drove\u201d from the coast of Cromarty, which are analogous to this.\n\n[66] See \u201cDeath Tokens.\u201d\n\n[67] \u201cThere appeared in the north-east the frustrum of a large rainbow;\nall the colours were lively and distinct, and it was three times as wide\nas the arch of an ordinary complete rainbow, but no higher than it was\nwide. They call it here, in Cornwall, _a weather dog_; but in the Cornish\nlanguage, _Lagas-auel_,\u2014that is, the weather\u2019s eye,\u2014and pronounce it a\ncertain sign of hard rain.\u201d\u2014_Borlase\u2019s Natural History of Cornwall._\n\n[68] Hone\u2019s Table-Book.\n\n[69] In pul; meaning in mud.\n\n[70] Davies Gilbert\u2019s \u201cCornwall.\u201d\n\n[71] Vol. iii. p. 309.\n\n[72] Letter from William Peter, Esq. of Harlyn, to Davies Gilbert, vol.\niii. p. 178.\n\n[73] See Keighton\u2019s \u201cTales and Popular Fictions,\u201d p. 247.\n\n[74] \u201cTraditions, Legends, Superstitions, and Sketches of Devonshire,\u201d\nby Mrs Bray, who gives a letter of her husband\u2019s, for some time vicar of\nTavistock.\n\n[75] See Gilbert, vol. iii., p. 293, and Bond\u2019s account of the Trelawnys\nin Bond\u2019s Looe.\n\n[76] Hone\u2019s Table-Book.\n\n\n\n\nAPPENDIX.\n\n\n\n\nAPPENDIX.\n\n\n(A.)\n\nST PIRAN\u2014PERRAN ZABULOE.\n\n\u201cIt is rather a curious circumstance,\u201d says Davies Gilbert, \u201cthat the\nword _Zabuloe_ added to Perran, for the distinction of this parish,\nis not Celtic, but through the French _sable_, from _sabulum_, a word\nfrequently used by Pliny, as indicative of sand or gravel.\n\n\u201cThe encroachments of the sand have caused no less than three churches\nto be built, after considerable intervals of time, in this parish. The\nlast was commenced in 1804; and in this year, (1835,) a building has\nbeen discovered more ancient than the first of these churches, and not\nimprobably the oratory of St Perran himself. The length of this chapel\nwithin the walls is 25 feet, without, 30 feet; the breadth within, 12\u00bd\nfeet; and the height of the walls the same.\n\n\u201cAt the eastern end is a neat altar of stone covered with lime, 4 feet\nlong, by 2\u00bd feet wide, and 3 feet high. Eight inches above the centre\nof the altar is a recess in the wall, where probably stood a crucifix;\nand on the north side of the altar is a small doorway, through which the\npriest may have entered. Out of the whole length, the chancel extended\nexactly 6 feet. In the centre of what may be termed the nave, in the\nsouth wall, occurs a round arched doorway, highly ornamented. The\nbuilding is, however, without any trace of window; and there is only one\nsmall opening, apparently for the admission of air.\n\n\u201cThe discovery has excited much curiosity throughout the neighbourhood;\nwhich has, unfortunately, manifested itself by the demolition of\neverything curious in this little oratory, to be borne away as\nrelics.\u201d\u2014_Gilbert._\n\n\u201cVery little is known concerning the saint who has given his name to the\nthree Perrans. He is, however, held in great veneration, and esteemed the\npatron of all Cornwall, or, at least, of the mining district.\u201d\u2014_Hals._\n\n\n(B.)\n\nTHE DISCOVERER OF TIN.\n\nBy an anachronism of fifteen hundred years or more, St Perran was\nconsidered as the person who first found tin; and this conviction induced\nthe miners to celebrate his day, the 5th of March, with so much hilarity,\nthat any one unable to guide himself along the road has received the\nappellation of a Perraner; and that, again, has been most unjustly\nreflected as a habit on the saint.\n\n\u201cIt may here be worthy of remark, that, as the miners impute the\ndiscovery of tin to St Perran, so they ascribe its reduction from\nthe ore, in a large way, to an imaginary person, St Chiwidden; but\n_chi-wadden_ is white house, and must, therefore, mean a smelting or\nblowing house, where the black ore of tin is converted into a white metal.\n\n\u201cA white cross on a black ground was formerly the banner of St Perran,\nand the standard of Cornwall; probably with some allusion to the black\nore and the white metal of tin.\u201d\u2014_Gilbert._\n\nA college, dedicated to St Perran, once stood in the parish of St Kevern,\n(Dugdale\u2019s \u201cMonasticon,\u201d vol. vi., p. 1449.) This probably had some\nconnexion with Perran Uthnoe. The shrine of St Perran was in that parish,\nwhich is said to have contained his head, and other relics.\n\nLysons quotes a deed in the registry of Exeter, shewing the great resort\nof pilgrims hither in 1485.\n\nIn the will of Sir John Arundell, 1433, occurs this bequest:\u2014\u201cItem,\nlego ad usum parochie S\u2019c\u2019i\u2019 Pyerani in Zabulo, ad clandendum capud S.\nPierani honorific\u00e8 et meliori modo quo sciunt xls.\u201d\u2014_Collectanea Topogr.\net Geneal._, vol. iii p. 392.\n\nFor a full examination of the question, Did the Ph\u0153nicians trade with\nBritain for tin? the following works should be consulted:\u2014\u201cHistory of\nMaritime and Inland Discovery,\u201d by W. D. Cooley; \u201cHistorical Survey of\nthe Astronomy of the Ancients,\u201d by Sir George Cornewall Lewis; \u201cCommerce\nand Navigation of the Ancients,\u201d by W. Vincent, D.D.; \u201cPh\u0153nicia,\u201d by\nJohn Kenrick, M.A.; \u201cThe Cassiterides: an Inquiry into the Commercial\nOperations of the Ph\u0153nicians in Western Europe, with particular Reference\nto the British Tin Trade,\u201d by George Smith, LL.D., F.A.S.\n\n\n(C.)\n\nST NEOT.\n\nThe following account of this celebrated saint, as given by Mr Davies\nGilbert, will not be without interest:\u2014\n\n\u201cMultitudes flocked to him from all parts. He founded a monastery, and\nrepaired to Rome for a confirmation, and for blessing at the hands of\nthe Pope; these were readily obtained. He returned to his monastery,\nwhere frequent visits were made to him by King Alfred, on which occasions\nhe admonished and instructed the great founder of English liberty; and\nfinally quitted this mortal life on the 31st of July, about the year\n883, in the odour of sanctity so unequivocal that travellers all over\nCornwall were solaced by its fragrance. Nor did the exertions of our\nsaint terminate with his existence on earth; he frequently appeared to\nKing Alfred, and sometimes led his armies in the field. But, if the tales\nof these times are deserving of any confidence, the nation is really and\ntruly indebted to St Neot for one of the greatest blessings ever bestowed\non it. To his advice, and even to his personal assistance as a teacher,\nwe owe the foundation by Alfred of the University at Oxford.\n\n\u201cThe relics of St Neot remained at his monastery in Cornwall till about\nthe year 974, when Earl Alric, and his wife Ethelfleda, having founded\na religious house at Eynesbury, in Huntingdonshire, and being at a loss\nfor some patron saint, adopted the expedient of stealing the body of\nSt Neot; which was accordingly done, and the town retains his name,\nthus feloniously obtained, up to this time. The monastery in Cornwall\ncontinued feebly to exist, after this disaster, through the Saxon times;\nbut, having lost its palladium, it felt the ruiner\u2019s hand; and, almost\nimmediately after the Norman Conquest, it was finally suppressed. Yet\nthe memory of the local saint is still cherished by the inhabitants of\nthe parish and of the neighbourhood\u2014endeared, perhaps, by the tradition\nof his diminutive stature, reduced, in their imagination, to fifteen\ninches of height; and to these feelings we, in all probability, owe the\npreservation of the painted glass, the great decoration of this church,\nand one of the principal works of art to be seen in Cornwall.\u201d\u2014_Gilbert\u2019s\nHist Corn._, vol. iii. p. 262.\n\n\n(D.)\n\nTHE SISTERS OF GLEN-NEOT.\n\nBY THE REV. R. S. HAWKER OF MORWENSTOW.\n\n It is from Neot\u2019s sainted steep\n The foamy waters flash and leap;\n It is where shrinking wild-flowers grow,\n They lave the nymph that dwells below!\n\n But wherefore in this far-off dell,\n The reliques of a human cell?\n Where the sad stream and lonely wind\n Bring Man no tidings of their kind!\n\n Long years agone! the old man said,\n \u2019Twas told him by his grandsire dead,\n One day two ancient sisters came,\n None there could tell their race or name.\n\n Their speech was not in Cornish phrase,\n Their garb had marks of loftier days;\n Slight food they took from hands of men,\n They wither\u2019d slowly in that glen.\n\n One died! the other\u2019s shrunken eye\n Gush\u2019d till the fount of tears was dry;\n A wild and wasting thought had she\u2014\n \u201cI shall have none to weep for me!\u201d\n\n They found her silent at the last,\n Bent in the shape wherein she pass\u2019d\u2014\n Where her lone seat long used to stand,\n Her head upon her shrivell\u2019d hand!\n\n Did fancy give this legend birth?\n The grandame\u2019s tale for winter-hearth,\n Or some dead bard, by Neot\u2019s stream,\n People these banks with such a dream?\n\n We know not! but it suits the scene,\n To think such wild things here have been;\n What spot more meet could grief or sin\n Choose at the last to wither in?\n\n _Echoes of Old Cornwall._\n\n\n(E.)\n\nMILLINGTON OF PENGERSWICK.\n\nIn the reign of Henry VIII., one Militon, or Millington, appears to\nhave purchased Pengerswick Castle. This Millington is said to have\nretired into the solitude of this place on account of a murder which he\nhad committed. (Mr Wilkie Collins appears to have founded his novel of\n\u201cBasil\u201d on this tradition.) In all probability a very much older story\nis adapted to Mr Millington. So far from his being a recluse, we learn\nof his purchasing St Michael\u2019s Mount, \u201cwhose six daughters and heirs\ninvested their husbands and purchasers therewith.\u201d\n\nThat Millington was a man of wealth, and that large possessions were held\nby his family, is sufficiently evident. St Michael\u2019s Mount appears to\nhave been \u201cgranted at first for a term of years to different gentlemen of\nthe neighbourhood. To Millington, supposed of Pengerswick, in Breage; to\nHarris, of Kenegie, in Gulval; and, perhaps jointly with Millington, to a\nBillett or Bennett.\u201d\u2014_Hals._\n\n\n(F.)\n\nSARACEN.\n\nThe term Saracen is always now supposed to apply to the Moors. This is\nnot exactly correct. Percy, for example, in his \u201cEssay on the Ancient\nMinstrels,\u201d says, \u201cThe old metrical romance of \u2018Horn Child,\u2019 which,\nalthough from the mention of Saracens, &c., it must have been written,\nat least, after the First Crusade, in 1096, yet, from its Anglo-Saxon\nlanguage or idiom, can scarcely be dated later than within a century\nafter the Conquest.\u201d I think this ballad, and several others of an early\ndate, prove the application of this term to some Oriental people previous\nto the Crusades. Sold\u00e0in, sold\u00e0n, regarded as a corruption of sultan,\u2014\n\n \u201cWhoever will fight yon grimme sold\u00e0n,\n Right fair his meede shall be,\u201d\u2014\n\nis clearly a much older term, applied to any grim Eastern tyrant, and\nespecially to the Oriental giants. It would not be a difficult task to\nshew that the word Saracen, as used in Cornwall,\u2014\u201c_Atal Saracen!_\u201d \u201c_Oh,\nhe\u2019s a Saracen!_\u201d &c., was applied to the foreigners who traded with this\ncounty for tin\u2014at a very early period.\n\nEND OF SECOND SERIES.\n\n[Illustration]\n\nJOHN CAMDEN HOTTEN, PRINTER, PICCADILLY, LONDON.\n\n\n\n\nCatalogue _of Useful, Curious, and Interesting Books Published or Sold by_\n\nJOHN CAMDEN HOTTEN,\n\n74 & 75, PICCADILLY, LONDON, W.\n\n\n\u2042 _Those Books offered at one-fourth of their published prices are\nwarranted to be as clean and as perfect as when sold at the full prices._\n\n\u2042 NOTE.\u2014_In order to insure the correct delivery of the ACTUAL WORKS, or\nPARTICULAR EDITIONS, specified in this list, it is necessary that THE\nNAME OF THE PUBLISHER SHOULD BE DISTINCTLY GIVEN, otherwise the purchaser\nwill probably receive books of a different character from those which\nwere ordered. Stamps or a Post Office Order may be remitted direct to the\nPublisher, who will forward per return._\n\n * * * * *\n\nAnacreon\u2019s Odes. Paris, 1864. Didot\u2019s exquisite EDITION, _printed in very\nbeautiful Greek characters, with French notes, each page ruled with red\nlines_. 12mo. ILLUSTRATED WITH 54 CHARMING PHOTOGRAPHS, FROM COMPOSITIONS\nBY GIRODET, IN THE PUREST CLASSICAL STYLE, AND OF MOST SURPASSING BEAUTY\nAND SOFTNESS. 40s.\n\nThe original drawings cost \u00a35,000. The volume is, without exception, the\nmost lovable book ever sent forth by a prodigal publisher.\n\n * * * * *\n\nNow ready, NEW AND POPULAR EDITION, post 8vo, pp. 336, price 2s.,\n\nAnecdotes of the Green Room and Stage; or, Leaves from an Actor\u2019s\nNote-Book, at Home and Abroad. By GEORGE VANDENHOFF.\n\nMr. Vandenhoff, who earned for himself, both in the Old and New Worlds,\nthe title of THE CLASSIC ACTOR, has retired from the Stage. His\nReminiscences are extremely interesting, and include Original Anecdotes\nof the Keans (father and son), the two Kembles, Macready, Cooke, Liston,\nFarren, Elliston, Braham and his Sons, Phelps, Buckstone, Webster, Chas.\nMathews; Siddons, Vestris, Helen Faucit, Mrs. Nisbett, Miss Cushman, Miss\nO\u2019Neil, Mrs. Glover, Mrs. Chas. Kean, Rachel, Ristori, and many other\ndramatic celebrities.\n\n * * * * *\n\nArch\u00e6ological Proceedings held at Winchester in 1845. The thick handsome\nvol., published by the Institute in 1846, 8vo, pp. 600, _with numerous_\nBEAUTIFUL _and_ MOST CURIOUS WOOD ENGRAVINGS of ANCIENT ARCHITECTURAL and\nother REMAINS in HAMPSHIRE, with _Facsimiles_ and ETCHINGS ON COPPER, 8vo\n(sells at \u00a31 10s.), only 8s. 6d.\n\n\u2042 THIS IS A SCARCE VOLUME. Amongst the very interesting contents may be\nparticularised the ARCHITECTURAL HISTORY of old WINCHESTER, PAINTED and\nSTAINED GLASS in the County, ANCIENT SEALS and MSS., SURNAMES, NICKNAMES,\nPALACES, ROUND TABLES, MINT and EXCHANGES, COINS, MONUMENTS, BRASSES; the\nancient CASTLES, CHURCHES, PRIORIES, &c.\n\n * * * * *\n\nAN INTERESTING VOLUME TO GENEALOGISTS AND ANTIQUARIES.\n\nNow ready, half morocco, handsomely printed by Whittingham and Wilkins,\nprice 7s. 6d.,\n\nArmy Lists of the Roundheads and Cavaliers in the Civil War: GIVING THE\nNAMES OF ALL THE OFFICERS IN THE ROYAL AND PARLIAMENTARY ARMIES OF 1642,\nnow first reprinted from the comparatively unknown originals, and Edited,\nwith Notes, by EDWARD PEACOCK, F.S.A. In 4to, with elaborate floreated\ncapitals.\n\nThese most curious _Lists_ show on which side the gentlemen of England\nwere to be found during the great conflict between the King and the\nParliament. As illustrations of County History they are exceedingly\ninteresting. The literary antiquary and the genealogist will find much\nnew and out-of-the-way matter in them; and there are but few families\nin England who cannot claim a relationship to one or other of the names\nmentioned in the Royalist or Roundhead lists. ONLY A VERY FEW COPIES HAVE\nBEEN MOST CAREFULLY REPRINTED _on paper that will gladden the heart of\nthe lover of Choice Books_.\n\n * * * * *\n\nNow ready, 12mo, in binding after a pattern of the period, very choicely\nprinted, by Whittingham and Wilkins, price 6s. 6d.,\n\nTHE EARLIEST KNOWN LONDON DIRECTORY.\n\nA Collection of the Names of the Merchants Living IN AND ABOUT THE\nCITY OF LONDON; very usefull and necessary. Carefully Collected for\nthe Benefit of all Dealers that shall have occasion with any of them,\ndirecting them at the first sight of their name to the place of their\nabode. London: Printed for SAM LEE, 1677. See Review in the _Times_, Jan.\n22nd.\n\nThis curious little volume has been reprinted verbatim from one of the\nonly two copies known to be in existence. It contains an Introduction\npointing out some of the principal persons mentioned in the list. For\nhistorical and genealogical purposes the little book is of the greatest\nvalue. Herein will be found the originators of many of the great firms\nand copartnerships which have prospered through two pregnant centuries,\nand which exist some of them in nearly the same names at this day.\nIts most distinctive feature is the early severance which it marks of\n\u2018goldsmiths that keep running cashes,\u2019 precursors of the modern bankers,\nfrom the mass of the merchants of London. Here also will be found in the\ngeneral list some of the entertainers of the wits of their day; Fountain,\nthe father of the wealthy knight with whom Swift was familiar, as shown\nin his letters to Stella; Kiffen, the sturdy Baptist, whom James II.\ncould neither affright nor seduce; Bathurst, with Bragg his connexion,\nthe Vansittarts, Van Milderts, Ducanes, Beckfords, Papillons, Burdetts,\nBiddulphs, and Holfords. Here are Russells, Temples, Palmers, and\nHarveys, the latter near kinsman of Dr. William Harvey, who discovered\nthe secret of our own circulation. Only two originals are known, and one\nof these recently produced \u00a330 at public auction. The little book is\ncurious, among other things, as containing the name of Alexander Pope,\nthe father of the poet, among the merchants residing in Broad Street.\nThe names of the Messrs. Hoare, the eminent bankers of Fleet Street, at\nthe sign of the \u2018Leathern Bottle\u2019\u2014the house, by the way, where Oliver\nCromwell kept his money\u2014occurs in the Directory, as also do those of the\nMessrs. Child, the well-known bankers of Temple Bar. ONLY A VERY FEW\nCOPIES HAVE BEEN REPRINTED ON PAPER MADE TO RESEMBLE THE ORIGINAL.\n\n * * * * *\n\nThis day, on tinted paper, price 3s. 6d., by post 3s. 10d.,\n\nArtemus Ward\u2014His Book. Edited, with Notes and Introduction, by the Editor\nof the \u201cBIGLOW PAPERS.\u201d One of the wittiest and certainly the most\nmirth-provoking book which has been published for many years.\n\nThe author has recently been delighting his countrymen with lectures on\n\u201cThe Babes in the Wood,\u201d \u201cSixty Minutes in Africa,\u201d and \u201cLife among the\nMormons,\u201d and it is expected will shortly visit this country, to take for\na time the late Albert Smith\u2019s place among us.\n\n\u201cHe is as clever as Thackeray In Jeames\u2019s dialogue and Policeman X\u2019s\nballads.... There is no merriment in him; it is all dry, sparkling\nhumour.\u201d\u2014_Spectator._\n\n\u201cGenuine humour.... He is likely to take with the British\npublic.\u201d\u2014_Globe._\n\n\u201cBryant, the poet, pays him a high compliment.... Exceedingly\namusing.\u201d\u2014_Pall Mall Gazette._\n\n\u201cWe never, not even in the pages of our best humorists, read anything\nso laughable and so shrewd as we have seen in this book by the mirthful\nArtemus.\u201d\u2014_Public Opinion._\n\n\u201cWe can heartily commend it to every one of our numerous readers, not an\nindividual of whom, we are assured, will regret the small sum expended on\nit, should he become a purchaser.\u201d\u2014_Western Daily News._\n\n * * * * *\n\nBeeton\u2019s (Mrs.) Book of Household Management; Comprising a History of the\nOrigin, Properties, and Uses of All Things connected with Home Life and\nComfort; Information for Mistresses and Servants, and Sanitary, Medical,\nand Legal Information. 1864. Very thick fcap. 8vo, over 1,110 pages,\nWOODCUTS AND PLATES PRINTED IN COLOURS, _neatly half-bound_, 5s. 10d.\n\n\u2042 INDISPENSABLE TO EVERY HOUSEHOLD\u2014containing in itself, besides\nbeing a Complete COOKERY BOOK, all that is ever wanted to refer to in\nHousekeeping; with a valuable INDEX _for Instant Reference_.\n\n * * * * *\n\nBerjeau\u2019s (P. C.) Book of Dogs; the Varieties of Dogs as they are found\nin OLD SCULPTURES, PICTURES, ENGRAVINGS, and BOOKS. 1865. _Half-morocco,\nthe sides richly lettered in gold_, 7s. 6d.\n\nIn this very interesting volume are 52 plates, facsimiled from rare old\nEngravings, Paintings, Sculptures, &c., in which may be traced over 100\nvarieties of Dogs known to the Ancients.\n\n\u2042 The volume forms a handsome small 4to, is printed on tinted paper, and\ncontains numerous admirable facsimiles by Mr. Berjeau. Some of the dogs,\nfrom the engravings by Albert Durer, are the veritable Scotch terriers of\nLeech, so familiar to all readers of _Punch_. The book is a most pleasing\nand satisfactory combination of modern and antiquarian interest. The\nregular price of the book is 10s. 6d., but Mr. Hotten can sell a copy for\n7s. 6d.\n\n * * * * *\n\nBook of Common Prayer, according to the Usage of the Church of England.\nPICKERING\u2019S SUMPTUOUS FOLIO EDITION, PRINTED, RED AND BLACK, IN BOLD OLD\nENGLISH LETTER, _on the finest vellum paper_\u2014A TRULY REGAL VOLUME, and\none of the few books printed in the present century which will compare\nwith the works of the early printers. Half-vellum, very neat (sells \u00a37\n7s.), only 38s., _or bound in half-morocco in the Roxburghe style_. \u00a32\n7s. 6d.\n\n\u2042 Admirably adapted for use in the pulpit or reading-stand. _With lovers\nof choice books it is not unfrequently termed the_ \u201cCATHEDRAL EDITION.\u201d\n\n * * * * *\n\nBaron Munchausen, Aventures de. Illustrated WITH 220 FANTASTIC AND\nEXTRAORDINARY WOOD ENGRAVINGS BY GUSTAVE DORE. 4to, cloth elegant, 19s.\n6d. With a portrait of the renowned Baron, and his Motto, \u201cMendace\nVeritas.\u201d\n\nNOTHING CAN EXCEED THE DROLLERY AND HUMOUR OF THESE WONDERFUL AND\nINIMITABLE ILLUSTRATIONS.\n\n * * * * *\n\nYORKSHIRE BIBLIOGRAPHY.\n\nNow ready, 8vo, half morocco, very neat, price 5s. 6d.,\n\nBibliographical Account of nearly 1,500 Curious and _rare_ BOOKS,\nTRACTS, _MSS._, and ENGRAVINGS relating to the HISTORY and TOPOGRAPHY\nof YORKSHIRE, collected by Mr. Hotten, with numerous DESCRIPTIVE NOTES,\nLITERARY ANECDOTES, etc., _illustrated with curious wood engravings_\nfrom blocks formerly in the possession of the eccentric JOHN COLE of\n_Scarborough_, interleaved for MS. notes, additions, etc. 1863.\n\nOnly Fifty Copies have been printed on thick paper, for the use of\nYorkshire Antiquaries and Topographers.\n\n * * * * *\n\nWELSH BIBLIOGRAPHY.\n\nNow ready, 8vo, half morocco, very neat, price 4s. 6d.,\n\nBibliographical Account of nearly 1,000 Curious and _rare_ BOOKS, TRACTS,\n_MSS._, and ENGRAVINGS relating to the HISTORY and TOPOGRAPHY of NORTH\nAND SOUTH WALES, collected by Mr. Hotten, with numerous DESCRIPTIVE\nNOTES, LITERARY ANECDOTES, etc., interleaved for MS. notes, additions,\netc., _illustrated with curious wood engravings from old chap-books and\nballads_.\n\nOnly Fifty Copies have been printed on thick paper, for the use of Welsh\nAntiquaries and Topographers.\n\n * * * * *\n\nNEW WORK BY THE LATE DOUGLAS JERROLD.\n\nBrownrigg Papers, by Douglas Jerrold. Edited by his Son, BLANCHARD\nJERROLD. Coloured Illustration by GEORGE CRUIKSHANK. 8vo, sells at 10s.\n6d.; a few copies offered at 4s. 6d., cloth gilt.\n\n\u2042 Containing some of the most characteristic pieces from the pen of the\nmaster-wit, now first collected. \u201cHenry Brownrigg\u201d was the favourite\n_nom-de-plume_ of the author. A MOST ENTERTAINING VOLUME.\n\n * * * * *\n\nBurke\u2019s Genealogical and Heraldic History of EXTINCT AND DORMANT\nBARONETCIES. 1838. 8vo. _Fine Portrait of James I., and upwards of_ 1,000\nCOATS OF ARMS, ENGRAVED ON WOOD, _neatly bound, half-morocco_, 10_s._\n6_d._\n\n\u2042 An invaluable work of reference; giving the LINEAGE OF NEARLY A\nTHOUSAND FAMILIES, with minute and accurate details of the alliances,\nfortunes, and memorable events of each generation; the search for which,\nthrough public and private records, occupied the Author many years.\n\n * * * * *\n\nCambridge Slang Phrases\u2014Gradus ad Cantabrigiam; or, Guide to the\n_Academical Customs and Colloquial_, or _Cant Terms_, peculiar to the\nUniversity of Cambridge. 8vo, WITH COLOURED HUMOROUS ENGRAVINGS. 3s. 6d.\n\nWithout the Illustrations the book is common enough.\n\n * * * * *\n\nCheke\u2019s (Sir J.) Gospel according to St. Matthew, and part of St. Mark\u2019s\nGospel, translated into English, with _Notes_, and seven Original\nLetters. 8vo, new cloth, _with facsimile plates_, 2s. 6d.\n\nSir J. Cheke was Tutor and Secretary of State to King Edward VI., and,\ntowards the close of his life, embraced the Catholic Faith. The very\npeculiar nature of this old Translation Is explained in the Introduction,\nby J. GOODWIN. A VERY VALUABLE SPECIMEN OF THE ENGLISH LANGUAGE in 1550.\n\n * * * * *\n\nThis day, Collected Edition, cloth, neat, 2s. 6d.; by post, 2s. 8d.,\n\nCornish Tales, in Prose and Verse, by J. T. Tregellas. With a GLOSSARY.\n\n\u2042 This Collection comprises all the best stories of the author, who made\na fame peculiarly his own by a wonderful power of story-telling and\nmimicry. The book includes _Tremnan_, _the St. Agnes Bear Hunt_, _the\nQueen\u2019s Washing Day_, _the Perran Cherry-beam_, _Grammar\u2019s Cat and Ours_,\n_the Squire\u2019s Tame Conger_, _Rozzy Paul and Zacky Martin_, _Josee Cock_,\nand ten other inimitable stories.\n\n * * * * *\n\nAN EXTRAORDINARY BOOK.\n\nBeautifully printed, thick 8vo, new half-morocco, gilt back, 14s. 6d.,\n\nContes Drolatiques (Droll Tales collected from the Abbeys of Loraine).\nPar BALZAC. With Four Hundred and Twenty-five Marvellous, Extravagant,\nand Fantastic Woodcuts by GUSTAVE DOR\u00c9.\n\n[Illustration]\n\n\u2042 The most singular designs ever attempted by any artist. This book\nis a fund of amusement. So crammed is it with pictures that even the\n_Contents_ are adorned with thirty-three illustrations. Now the reader\nis made to smile at the mishaps of some fat monks; then a battle scene,\nwith fighting men jammed in inextricable confusion until the picture\nbecomes painful to look at, occupies his attention; next, some portraits\nof fellows who would pass for Pluto\u2019s firemen, all seared, as though they\nhad been for a thousand years stirring molten lava; then knights making\nlove, and kissing through their visors; then dreamy old German cities,\nwith diablerie, or satanello, going on right and left\u2014but all so quaint,\nso wonderful, that the beholder confesses he never looked upon the like\nbefore.\n\n * * * * *\n\nCommon Prayer. Illustrated by Holbein and Albert Durer. Facsimile of\nthe Prayer Book of Queen Elizabeth, adapted to the present Reign, with\nwood-engravings of ALBERT DURER\u2019S \u201cLife of Christ,\u201d _rich woodcut\nBorder_ on every page of Fruit and Flowers; also the DANCE OF DEATH, a\n_singularly curious series_ after HOLBEIN, with Scriptural Quotations and\n_Proverbs_ in the Margin. Sqr. 8vo, cloth neat, exquisitely printed on\ntinted paper, price 10s. 6d.\n\nThis book, from the variety and quaintness of the borders surrounding\neach page\u2014resembling some of the beautiful early printed Missals\u2014is\nworthy of the most elaborate binding. Few modern works sustain the\ncharacter of a rich exterior. This volume, on the contrary, on account of\nthe softness and beauty of the paper, appears to the greatest advantage\nin the most brilliant covers. Mr. Hotten has just had some copies bound\nas samples of the artistic beauty which may be displayed in binding.\n\n1. IN DARK MOROCCO, VERY PLAIN AND NEAT, WITH BLOCK IN THE ELIZABETHAN\nSTYLE IMPRESSED ON THE SIDES, _gilt edges_, 17s. 6d.\n\n2. In the finest polished _gros-grained_ Levant morocco, the back and\nsides simply but elegantly gilt, crimson, dark blue, or green, cut from\n_carefully-selected skins_, the edges gilt and burnished, 30s.\n\n3. In a very splendid piece of dark blue morocco, admirably polished, the\nsides and back hand-tooled in gold to a very pleasing and original design\nof entwined laurel-leaves, the edges gilt, 48s. 6d.\n\n4. In rich brown morocco, blind-tooled and inlaid with red Maltese\ncrosses on the back, and elegant Latin crosses on the sides, all bordered\nwith a fine thread of gold, carmine edges, gauffred with a diaper in\ngold, 43s.\n\n5. In very choice red morocco, the sides covered with hand-tooling in\ngold of singular beauty, delicacy, and finish, 55s.\n\n6. Another, in fine open-grain crimson morocco of great beauty, with an\ninlaid monogram of very artistic design, in dark blue morocco, within a\nframe, also inlaid in dark blue, ornamented with hand-tooling to a very\nchaste Italian design, solid gilt edges, 63s. ANOTHER, in olive morocco\nof a very subdued and rare tint, with similar monogram and border, the\nedges gilt in dull gold, 63s.\n\n7. A very sumptuous specimen of Inlaid _Maioli_ Binding, dark blue\nmorocco, with an elaborate design, inlaid in red and green morocco,\ndefined with gold lines\u2014reproduced from an antique volume of great value,\n\u00a36 6s.\n\n8. The same design, hand-tooled in gold on dark blue morocco, \u00a33 15s.\n\n9. In the _Grolier_ style, with the peculiar and favourite interlacings\ncarried out in red and green morocco on a dark blue ground, with great\nprecision and good taste, \u00a35 10s.\n\n10. A similar pattern, hand-tooled with great accuracy in gold, on a\nchoice piece of dark blue morocco, \u00a33 8s.\n\n_This edition has been prepared expressly for Mr. Hotten._ All the LATEST\nalterations in the Common Prayer Book of our Established Church are\ngiven. Several new and most curiously engraved woodcut borders have been\nadded. It is only necessary to remark that the _old_ edition, without\nthese improvements, sold for \u00a31 1s. per copy.\n\n * * * * *\n\nA GARLAND OF\n\nChristmas Carols, Ancient and Modern; including several never before\ngiven in any collection. Beautifully printed by Whittingham, fcap 8vo.,\nprice 4s. 6d.\n\n\u2042 This Garland comprises those delightful Carols that for generations\nhave charmed the good people of our country at the festive season. They\nhave been collected from every source that would afford materials,\nincluding rare old broadsides, ballad-sheets, chap-books, and the various\nother kinds of street literature. None have been included but what were\ngenuine, and no modern adaptations or imitations are given. Several of\nthe Legendary Carols possess all the delightful characteristics of our\nmost admired old ballads.\n\n * * * * *\n\nCicero de Officiis, &c., &c. The exquisite Diamond TYPE EDITION, 48mo\n(sells at 6s.), only 1s. 6d.\n\nArtistically bound in morocco, with exquisite taste and neatness, 10s.\n6d.; or with the sides delicately tooled, 12s. 6d.\n\n * * * * *\n\nCostume. Picturesque Representations of the Dress and Manners of the\nEnglish. Royal 8vo., WITH FIFTY COLOURED ENGRAVINGS _of the various\nclasses of English Society fifty years ago_, half crimson morocco,\nRoxburghe style, VERY SCARCE, 11s. 6d.\n\n * * * * *\n\nCrests, Orders, Mitres, Crowns, Flags of all Nations, CHOICE MONOGRAMS.\nFAIRBAIRN\u2019S CRESTS of the Families of Great Britain and Ireland, 2 vols.,\nlarge 8vo, _fine impressions on India paper_ of the 2,100 ENGRAVED\nCRESTS, _cloth gilt_ (sells at \u00a33 15s.), 28s. only. 1860.\n\nA book invaluable to the Heraldic Student and the Genealogist, with an\nAppendix of all the MOTTOES used by the Nobility, translated, &c.\n\n\u2014\u2014. 2 vols. 4to, an extra large paper COPY, _half morocco, top edge\ngilt_, (sells at \u00a38 8s.) \u00a33 18s. 1860.\n\n * * * * *\n\nDante\u2019s Divina Commedia. The exquisite diamond TYPE EDITION, 2 vols. 48mo\n(sells at 10s.), only 2s. 6d.\n\nArtistically bound in morocco, with exquisite taste and neatness, 21s.;\nor, with the sides delicately tooled, 25s.\n\n * * * * *\n\nIn a few days, in 8vo, handsomely printed,\n\nDiamonds and Precious Stones: their History, Value, and Properties, WITH\nSIMPLE TESTS FOR ASCERTAINING THEIR REALITY; by H. EMANUEL, F.R.G.S. With\nnumerous illustrations, coloured and plain.\n\n\u2042 Although this Work is intended as a plain and practical Guide to Buyers\nand Sellers of Precious Stones, the History and Literature of the subject\nhave not been overlooked. Anecdotes of the peculiar accidents and strange\nfortune which have attended some Jewels are given, and what is hoped will\nbe found a valuable Bibliography of the subject is added as an Appendix\nat the end.\n\n * * * * *\n\nTHE FAMILY HISTORY OF THE ENGLISH COUNTIES.\n\nNow ready, in 8vo, on tinted paper, nearly 350 pages, very neat, price\n5s.,\n\nDescriptive Account of Twenty Thousand most CURIOUS AND RARE BOOKS, OLD\nTRACTS, ANCIENT MANUSCRIPTS, ENGRAVINGS, and PRIVATELY PRINTED FAMILY\nPAPERS, relating to the History of almost every LANDED ESTATE and OLD\nENGLISH FAMILY in the Country; interspersed with nearly _Two Thousand_\nOriginal Anecdotes, Topographical and Antiquarian Notes, by JOHN CAMDEN\nHOTTEN.\n\nBY FAR THE LARGEST COLLECTION OF ENGLISH AND WELSH TOPOGRAPHY AND FAMILY\nHISTORY EVER FORMED. Each article has a small price affixed for the\nconvenience of those who may desire to possess any book or tract that\ninterests them.\n\n\u2042 FIFTY COPIES ONLY HAVE BEEN PRINTED ON THICK PAPER; these are\ninterleaved with writing paper for MS. additions, and bound in\nhalf-morocco, price 12s. 6d.\n\n * * * * *\n\nThick 8vo, published at \u00a31 5s., only 12s. 6d.,\n\nDictionary of Americanisms; Words and Phrases usually regarded as\npeculiar to the UNITED STATES. By JOHN RUSSELL BARTLETT. THIRD and BEST\nEDITION.\n\n_The work extends to 560 pages, and presents to the English reader a\nbody of admirably-selected extracts from the humorous and dialectical\nliterature of the United States._\n\nIt is a curious fact connected with Slang, that a great number of vulgar\nwords common in England are equally common in the United States; and when\nwe remember that America began to people two centuries ago, and that\nthese colloquialisms must have crossed the sea with the first emigrants,\nwe can form some idea of the antiquity of popular or street language.\nMany words, owing to the caprices of fashion or society, have wholly\ndisappeared in the parent country, whilst in the colonies they are yet\nheard. The words SKINK, to serve drink in company, and the old term\nMICHING or MEECHING, skulking or playing truant, for instance, are still\nin use in the United States, although nearly, if not quite, obsolete here.\n\n * * * * *\n\nNow ready, only a few copies for sale, original price 5s., now offered at\n2s. 6d., a\n\nDictionary of the Oldest Words in the English LANGUAGE, from the\nSemi-Saxon Period of A.D. 1250 to 1300; consisting of an Alphabetical\nInventory of EVERY WORD FOUND IN THE PRINTED ENGLISH LITERATURE OF\nTHE 13TH CENTURY, by the late HERBERT COLERIDGE, Secretary to the\nPhilological Society. 8vo, neat half-morocco.\n\nAn invaluable work to historical students and those interested in\nlinguistic pursuits. \u201cThe present publication may be considered as the\nfoundation-stone of the Historical and Literary Portion\u201d of the great\nENGLISH DICTIONARY now in preparation by the Philological Society.\n\u201cExplanatory and etymological matter has been added, which, it is hoped,\nmay render the work more generally interesting and useful than could\notherwise have been the case.\u201d\n\n * * * * *\n\nHERALDRY OF WALES.\n\nOnly 50 copies printed, in marvellous facsimile, 4to, on old Welsh paper,\nhalf-morocco, 12s. 6d.,\n\nDisplay of Herauldry of the particular Coat Armours now in Use in the Six\nCounties of North Wales, and several others Elsewhere; with the NAMES OF\nTHE FAMILIES, whereby any Man knowing from what Family he is descended\nmay know his particular Arms. By JOHN REYNOLDS, of Oswestry, Antiquarian;\nWITH NEARLY ONE HUNDRED COAT ARMOURS BLAZONED IN THE OLD STYLE. Chester,\nprinted 1739.\n\nFrom a Unique Copy, of priceless value to the lover of Heraldry and\nGenealogy. The work on _Welsh Family History_ issued privately by this\nauthor in the same year is comparatively common, yet copies of this have\nrealised _twenty guineas_. A few copies have been taken off in marvellous\nfacsimile, on old Welsh paper. They have cost more than the price asked.\nTHE OWNER CHALLENGES ANY FACSIMILE-EXPERT OR ARTIST IN THIS COUNTRY OR\nELSEWHERE TO PRODUCE ANYTHING MORE LIKE UNTO A VERITABLE OLD BOOK THAN\nTHIS. Photozincography is a shallow pretence when compared with it.\n\n * * * * *\n\nWINDOW TRACERY IN ENGLAND.\n\n8vo, 300 pages, published at \u00a31 1s., only 7s. 6d.,\n\nFreeman\u2019s (Ed., M.A., Author of the \u201cHistory of Architecture\u201d) Origin and\nDevelopment of Window Tracery in England; with nearly 400 Illustrations.\n\nOriginally issued by Mr. Parker of Oxford, to whom the antiquarian world\nis indebted for so many admirable works on ancient architecture. This\nwork gives an interesting and minute account of the most beautiful or\nremarkable windows existing in old English churches, castles, family\nmansions, in every county of England and Wales.\n\n * * * * *\n\nFun (the Comic Weekly Journal and Rival to _Punch_). A Complete Set from\nits Commencement in September, 1861, to September, 1864. 6 vols., 4to,\nHUNDREDS OF HUMOROUS WOODCUTS, _fancy boards_ (sells 27s.), 18s.\n\nContains many very clever cartoons and comic woodcuts by Mathew Morgan,\none of the most notable of our rising caricaturists.\n\n * * * * *\n\nForster and Foster Family. Some Account of the PEDIGREE of the FORSTERS\nof _Cold Hesledon_, in the County Palatine of Durham. Also, the FOSTERS\nof other parts of England. By JOSEPH FOSTER. 4to, _exquisitely printed on\nfine tinted paper_, with EMBLAZONED COAT ARMOUR of the FAMILY of FORSTER,\nor FOSTER. 12s. 6d. _Sunderland, printed 1862._\n\nPRIVATELY PRINTED FOR THE FAMILY, _and only a very few copies_. The\ninformation supplied is of the most reliable character, and just the kind\nthat one desires to know respecting departed worthies. A capital _Index_\nconcludes the volume.\n\n * * * * *\n\nAN ENTIRELY NEW BOOK OF DELIGHTFUL FAIRY TALES.\n\nNow ready, square 12mo, handsomely printed on toned paper, in cloth,\ngreen and gold, price 4s. 6d. plain, 5s. 6d. coloured (by post, 6d.\nextra),\n\nFamily Fairy Tales; or, Glimpses of Elfland at Heatherston Hall. Edited\nby CHOLMONDELEY PENNELL, Author of \u201cThe Naturalist Angler,\u201d \u201cPuck on\nPegasus,\u201d &c., adorned with BEAUTIFUL PICTURES of \u201cMY LORD LION,\u201d \u201cKING\nUGGERMUGGER,\u201d and other great folks.\n\nCONTENTS.\n\n My Lord Lion.\n The Blue Fish.\n King Uggermugger; or, The Princess Silver-Silk.\n See Me.\n Spider Face.\n The Great Forest.\n The Legend of the Little Flower.\n \u201cPatch;\u201d or, The Smile Fairy.\n The Story of the Spring Fairies.\n A Fable with a Moral.\n\n\u2042 This charming volume of Original Tales has been universally praised by\nthe critical press. From a great many reviews the following notices are\nselected:\u2014\n\n\u201cWhen children have grown weary of boisterous play, and settled down\non chair and footstool and rug, round the brightly-glowing fire, Mr.\nCholmondeley Pennell\u2019s \u2018Fairy Tales\u2019 will make their influence felt;\ncheering them up to renew their joyous laughter, and eventually sending\nthem to bed with a store of droll fancies and pretty thoughts\u2014thoughts\nand fancies which they will think about as they fall asleep, and dream\nabout as they wake up on the following morning.\u201d\u2014_Athen\u00e6um._\n\n\u201cThey fully deserve the care which has preserved them, and in their\npresent dress will afford amusement at the fireside at which they may be\nread. We may instance in particular the story of \u2018The Blue Fish\u2019 as one\nof the best Fairy Tales we have seen. The collection is excellent; the\nillustrations good.\u201d\u2014_London Review._\n\n\u201cThe tales are of the most charming kind we have read for a long time,\nand, we have no doubt, will cheer many a fireside. Our author is as\ntender as he is quaint and humorous, and seems to have imbibed the true\nspirit of fairy and legendary lore. The illustrations have our heartiest\nadmiration. Miss Edwards works with a pencil as graceful as it is\nfacile.\u201d\u2014_Reader._\n\n * * * * *\n\nIn fcap. 8vo, cloth, price 3s. 6d., beautifully printed,\n\nGog and Magog; or, the History of the Guildhall Giants. With some Account\nof the Giants which Guard English and Continental Cities. By F. W.\nFAIRHOLT, F.S.A.\n\nWITH ILLUSTRATIONS ON WOOD BY THE AUTHOR, COLOURED AND PLAIN.\n\n\u2042 The critiques which have appeared upon this amusing little work have\nbeen uniformly favourable. The _Athen\u00e6um_ pronounces it a perfect model\nof successful antiquarian exposition, readable from the first line to the\nlast. The _Art Journal_ devotes a considerable space to the little work,\nand congratulates the author upon his success. The _Leader_ contributes\ntwo full pages of eulogy. The _Builder_ directs its readers to purchase\nit. The _Critic_ says, in a long article, that it thoroughly explains who\nthese old Giants were, the position they occupied in popular mythology,\nthe origin of their names, and a score of other matters, all of much\ninterest in throwing a light upon fabulous portions of our history.\n\n * * * * *\n\nGenealogy and Family History. Stemmata CHICHELEANA; or, A GENEALOGICAL\nACCOUNT of the FAMILIES derived from THOS. CHICHELE, of HIGHAM FERRARS,\nNORTHAMPTONSHIRE. _Oxford_, 1765. With the RARE SUPPLEMENT, _so often\nwanting_, containing CORRECTIONS and VERY LARGE ADDITIONS, _Oxford_,\n1775. 2 vols. in 1, 4to. _Plates of monuments, uncut, beautifully\npreserved, with rough edges_, 17s. 6d.\n\n\u2042 PRIVATELY PRINTED, compiled by Dr. BENJ. BUCKLER. The 2 vols.\ncontain over 700 carefully-prepared TABLES of DESCENTS, PEDIGREES, and\nGENEALOGIES of Families of the NOBILITY and GENTRY, in which may be found\ntraces of the blood of THOS. CHICHELE, of Higham Ferrars [obit. A.D.\n1400], all of whom are entitled to become candidates for Fellowships\nat All Souls\u2019 College, Oxford, by virtue of their consanguinity to\nArchbishop Chichele, the founder.\n\nThis work has long been scarce, the SUPPLEMENT EXTREMELY so, and\nhas generally brought at auctions upwards of \u00a32. Mr. Hotten having\nfortunately lighted upon a few copies which had lain unnoticed in an old\nwarehouse, bought them in one lot, and is thus enabled to offer them\nso much below their intrinsic value. Amongst the pedigrees occur the\ndescendants of the TRACEY, DIGBY, SHIRLEY, KNATCHBULL, DERING, CHENNOCK,\nSHELDON, BERTIE, FERRERS, ANSTIS, STONOR, MONTAGU, SYMEN, LYNCH, WILD,\nKENT, and hundreds of other old ENGLISH FAMILIES.\n\n * * * * *\n\n\u201cFAIRY BOOKS FOR BOYS AND GIRLS.\u201d\n\nGrimm\u2019s Goblins; the Best Legends of all Nations and LANGUAGES. UPWARDS\nof 350 STORIES, _with Woodcuts_ and PICTURES PRINTED IN COLOURS BY \u201cPHIZ\u201d\n(_Hablot K. Browne_). 4to, _fancy boards_ (_published at 5s._), _offered\nat 2s. 6d._\n\nUNSURPASSED BY ANY OTHER BOOK FOR CHILDREN IN ITS VARIETY OF AMUSING\nSTORIES. The Illustrations, by H. K. BROWNE, are mostly printed in\nColours by EDMUND EVANS, and are singularly clever and striking.\n\n * * * * *\n\nGray\u2019s Poems, square 12mo, the Classical Edition, VERY EXQUISITELY\nILLUSTRATED _with Views by Birket Foster, and delightful little vignettes\nby Harry Rogers_ (sells at 5s.), 3s. 6d. only.\n\nA PERFECT GEM. It is, perhaps, the most elegant little volume of the kind\nproduced in the present century.\n\n * * * * *\n\nGustave Dor\u00e9. La Legende de Croque-Mitaine Recueillie par Ernest L\u2019Epine.\n4to. ILLUSTRATED WITH NEARLY 200 MARVELLOUS, EXTRAVAGANT, AND FANTASTIC\nWOODCUTS. By GUSTAVE DORE, 19s. 6d.\n\nIn this _mad_ volume Dor\u00e9 has surpassed all his former efforts. THE\nILLUSTRATIONS ARE, WITHOUT EXCEPTION, THE MOST WONDERFUL EVER PUT INTO A\nBOOK.\n\n * * * * *\n\nHomeri Ilias et Odyssea. 2 vols. The Exquisite DIAMOND TYPE EDITION, 48mo\n(sells at 12s.), only 2s. 6d.\n\nArtistically bound in morocco, with exquisite taste and neatness, 21s.;\nor, with the sides delicately tooled, 25s.\n\n * * * * *\n\nHair, Whiskers, Beard, Mustaches, &c. The Whole ART OF HAIR-DRESSING,\nwith ample rules for ladies, women, valets; directions for persons to\ndress their own hair, false hair, perfumery, &c.; by JAMES STEWART, _the\nTruefitt of George III.\u2019s time_. 8vo, pp. 435, 3s. 6d. only.\n\nWith _ten_ most curious Engravings of Beauties and Fashionable Beaux of\nthe time, showing the extraordinary Headdresses, Topknots, Pigtails,\nLove-curls, Wigs, &c., then worn.\n\n * * * * *\n\nHalliwell\u2019s (J. O., F.R.S.) Notes of Family Excursions IN NORTH WALES,\ntaken from Rhyl, Abergele, Llandudno, and Bagnor, small 4to, pp. 231,\nvery choicely printed, 3s. 6d. _Chiswick Press_, 1860.\n\nOnly a very limited number of copies have been privately printed by the\naccomplished author. A better man could not have been selected to visit\nthe Northern part of the ancient Principality for the purpose of writing\na readable book, descriptive of its glorious scenery, _Traditions,\nFolk-lore, and Natural Antiquities_. All the _Ancient Wells_, _Castles_,\n_Old Houses_, _Hills_, _Waterfalls_, _Caves_, _Cromlechs_, and _Druidical\nRemains_ are described. We have, also, some curious particulars about\nthose venerable countrymen of ours, the _old British Giants_. ANCIENT\nLEGENDS and FAIRY TALES are also given, together with interesting\nparticulars of the various ascents of Snowdon. It is an interesting book,\nand should be offered at 10s. 6d. instead of the 3s. 6d. now asked. Only\na few copies remain.\n\n * * * * *\n\nTHE BEST GUIDE TO HERALDRY.\n\nHeraldry, Historical and Popular. By Charles BOUTELL, M.A. Demy 8vo, with\n750 Illustrations, 9s. 6d.\n\n \u201cAll the devices blazoned on the shield\n In their own tinct.\u201d\u2014IDYLLS OF THE KING.\n\nIt is the aim of this MANUAL to inquire into the true character and right\noffice of Heraldry, and to describe and illustrate both its action in\npast times in England, and its present condition as it is in use amongst\nourselves.\n\nIn the great and general Art Revival of our own times, Heraldry now\nappears to be in the act of vindicating its title to honourable\nrecognition as an Art-Science, that may be agreeably as well as\nadvantageously studied, and very happily adapted in its practical\napplication to the existing condition of things.\n\n * * * * *\n\nPp. 336, handsomely printed, cloth extra, price 3s. 6d.,\n\nHolidays with Hobgoblins; or, Talk of Strange Things. By DUDLEY COSTELLO.\nWITH HUMOROUS ENGRAVINGS BY GEORGE CRUIKSHANK.\n\nAmongst the chapters may be enumerated:\u2014\n\n Shaving a Ghost.\n Superstitions and Traditions.\n Monsters.\n The Ghost of Pit Pond.\n The Watcher of the Dead.\n The Haunted House near Hampstead.\n Dragons, Griffins, and Salamanders.\n Alchemy and Gunpowder.\n Mother Shipton.\n Bird History.\n Witchcraft and Old Boguey.\n Crabs.\n Lobsters,\n The Apparition of Monsieur Bodry.\n\n * * * * *\n\nNow ready, handsomely printed, price 1s. 6d.,\n\nHints on Hats, adapted to the Heads of the People, by HENRY MELTON, of\nRegent-street. With curious Woodcuts of the various styles of Hats worn\nat different periods.\n\nAnecdotes of eminent and fashionable personages are given, and a fund of\ninteresting information relative to the History of Costume and change of\ntastes may be found scattered through its pages.\n\n * * * * *\n\nThis day, handsomely bound, pp. 550, price 7s. 6d.,\n\nHistory of Playing Cards, with Anecdotes of their USE in ANCIENT and\nMODERN GAMES, CONJURING, FORTUNE-TELLING, and CARD-SHARPING. Edited\nby the late Rev. ED. S. TAYLOR, B.A., and others. _With Sixty curious\nIllustrations on toned paper._\n\nWith Anecdotes of\n\n SKILL AND SLEIGHT OF HAND.\n GAMBLING AND CALCULATION.\n CARTOMANCY AND CHEATING.\n OLD GAMES AND GAMING-HOUSES.\n CARD REVELS AND BLIND HOOKEY.\n PIQUET AND VINGT-ET-UN.\n WHIST AND CRIBBAGE.\n OLD-FASHIONED TRICKS.\n\n\u201cA highly-entertaining volume.\u201d\u2014_Morning Post._\n\nThis most amusing work, introducing the reader to a curious chapter of\nour social history, gives an interesting account, replete with anecdotes,\nof the most popular and widely-known pastime which has ever been invented\nby man for his amusement. A more instructive and entertaining book could\nnot be taken in hand for a pleasant hour\u2019s reading.\n\n * * * * *\n\nHone\u2019s Every-Day Book and Table Book; or, Everlasting Calendar of Popular\nAmusements, Sports, Pastimes, Ceremonies, Manners, Customs, and Events,\nincident to each of the 365 Days in Past and Present Times:\u2014YEAR BOOK of\nDaily Recreation and Information, forming a complete History of the Year,\nand a perpetual Key to the Almanack, together four very thick vols. 8vo,\nwith SEVEN HUNDRED AND THIRTY WOODCUTS, _new cloth, good paper_ (sells at\n34s.), only 24s. The same in half calf, neat, 36s.\n\nOne of the most delightful works that can be imagined for half-hour\nreadings. Wm. Hone was one of the very few authors who could invest\ngenerally dry subjects with a peculiar charm that made them readable.\n\n * * * * *\n\nHow to See Scotland; or, a Fortnight in the Highlands for \u00a36. Price 1s.\n\nA plain and practical guide.\n\n * * * * *\n\nHunter\u2019s (Rev. Jos., Historian of Yorkshire) Hallamshire GLOSSARY. _Wm.\nPickering._ 1829. Crown 8vo, cloth, 5s. 6d.\n\nThis book may serve as a model to all intending glossarists. Copies have\nlong been scarce. In the Appendices are contained reprints of \u201cRAY\u2019S\nCATALOGUE OF WORDS HEARD IN THE WEST RIDINQ OF YORKSHIRE, 1718,\u201d and\n\u201cWATSON\u2019S VOCABULARY OF UNCOMMON WORDS USED IN HALIFAX.\u201d\n\n * * * * *\n\nHorace. The Exquisite Diamond Type Edition. 48mo. _Dedicated to Lord\nSpencer_ (sells at 6s.), only 1s. 6d.\n\nArtistically bound in morocco, with exquisite taste and neatness, 10s.\n6d.; or, with the sides delicately tooled, 12s. 6d.\n\n * * * * *\n\nHoratii Opera. Didot\u2019s Exquisite Edition, in small _but very legible\ntype_, WITH NUMEROUS MOST BEAUTIFUL PHOTOGRAPHS FROM PAINTINGS by M.\nBARRIAS, WITH VIEWS OF HORACE\u2019S VILLA, AND THE VARIOUS SPOTS IMMORTALISED\nIN HIS POEMS. 30s.\n\nBound in the _finest polished morocco, exquisitely finished and gilt_,\n45s.; or, with elaborately-tooled sides, after an ancient pattern, 55s.\n\nThe arch\u00e6ological part is from an actual survey of the localities by\nBenouville. THIS LITTLE VOLUME IS THE MOST BEAUTIFUL EDITION OF HORACE\nEVER PUBLISHED.\n\n * * * * *\n\nEVERY HOUSEKEEPER SHOULD POSSESS A COPY.\n\nNow ready, in cloth, price 2s. 6d., by post, 2s. 8d., the\n\nHousekeeper\u2019s Assistant; a Collection of the most valuable Recipes,\ncarefully written down for future use, by Mrs. B\u2014\u2014, during her forty\nyears\u2019 active service.\n\n\u2042 As much as two guineas has been paid for a copy of this invaluable\nlittle work.\n\n\u201cTruly a \u2018Housekeeper\u2019s Assistant.\u2019 We should think the little book would\nvery quickly find a place in all the housekeepers\u2019 rooms in the country.\nNo instructions appear to be given but those which are of the greatest\nservice to persons in the charge of family arrangements.\u201d\u2014_Illustrated\nNews._\n\n * * * * *\n\nJeffery\u2019s (Fred. J.) Genealogical Chart (Enlarged), showing all the\nBranches of the House of Oldenburg, commonly styled Schleswig-Holstein,\nnow living and occupying the Thrones of Denmark, Russia, Oldenburg, and\nGreece, and formerly those of Sweden and Norway. Price 1s. 6d.\n\nAn interesting Genealogical elucidation of the recent Danish difficulty.\nThe typography is exquisite, and by the adoption of variously-coloured\ninks, the whole of this difficult question\u2014in its genealogical aspect\u2014is\nlaid plainly before the eye of the student.\n\n * * * * *\n\nTHE ORIGINAL EDITION OF JOE MILLER\u2019S JESTS. 1739.\n\nJoe Miller\u2019s Jests; or, the Wit\u2019s Vade Mecum, being a Collection of the\nmost Brilliant Jests, the politest Repartees, the most elegant Bons Mots,\nand most pleasant short Stories in the English Language. An interesting\nspecimen of remarkable facsimile, 8vo. half morocco, old Dutch paper\nsides, price 9s. 6d. _London: printed by T. Read_, 1739.\n\nThe book is well known, or rather the Jests are, for the veritable\n_first edition_ of Joe Miller is one of the rarest books in the English\nlanguage. With regard to the contents of Joe Miller\u2019s _Jests_, the\nplain-spoken words are neither better nor worse than those in any other\nsimilar collection of the period. It is to be regretted that the author\ndid not employ expressions a little less coarse than he has done: his wit\nand pungency, however, it is impossible to deny. Only a very few copies\nof this humorous book have been reproduced.\n\n * * * * *\n\nLetters of the Marchioness Broglio Solari, one of the Maids of Honour to\nthe Princess Lamballe, &c.; with a Sketch of her Life, and Recollections\nof Celebrated Characters. Fcap. 8vo, beautifully printed by Whittingham,\nprice 2s. (Intended to have been sold at 5s.)\n\nThe Marchioness Broglio Solari was the natural grand-daughter of Lord\nHyde Clarendon, and consequently one of the collateral branches of the\nQueens Mary and Anne, and their grandfather, the great Chancellor of\nEngland. She played an important part in the French Revolution; was the\nfriend of Emperors and Princes; was intimately acquainted with George\nthe Fourth, Burke, Sheridan, Madame de Sta\u00ebl, the Duke of Wellington,\nSir Robert Peel, Sir H. Davy, Paganini, &c., of most of whom she gives\ncharacteristic anecdotes. The Marchioness endured many troubles, was\nrobbed of her fortune, and for some time obtained her living as an\nactress at the theatres of London and Dublin. This work was published by\nan intimate friend, and the entire impression (with the exception of a\nfew copies) passed into the hands of the family. It is believed that only\n150 copies were printed. The book (by those who know of its existence)\nhas always been considered as a _suppressed work_.\n\n * * * * *\n\nLinley\u2019s (Geo., the Song-Writer) Modern Hudibras; a Poem, in Three\nCantos. 8vo, 4s.\n\nA rattling satirical poem, the title to which gives a very fair idea\nof its nature. Social abuses, the sighs and groans of gentility, the\ntrickeries of literature, the cash-prices of art and musical criticisms,\nand a score of other subjects engage his satirical pen.\n\n * * * * *\n\nNow ready, 8vo, price 1s.,\n\nList of British Plants. Compiled and Arranged by ALEX. MORE, F.L.S.\n\nThis comparative _List of British Plants_ was drawn up for the use of the\ncountry botanist, to show the differences in opinion which exist between\ndifferent authors as to the number of species which ought to be reckoned\nwithin the compass of the _Flora_ of Great Britain.\n\n * * * * *\n\nSECOND EDITION, fcap. 8vo, neatly printed (price 1s.), only 9d.,\n\nMacaulay, the Historian, Statesman, and Essayist: Anecdotes of his Life\nand Literary Labours, with some Account of his Early and Unknown Writings.\n\nThe fine paper edition, cloth, neat, with a PHOTOGRAPHIC PORTRAIT (_the\nonly one known to have been taken_) by MAULL and POLYBLANK (price 2s.\n6d.), a FEW COPIES ONLY AT 1s. 6d.\n\n\u2042 Includes Anecdotes of SYDNEY SMITH, MOORE, ROGERS, and LORD JEFFREY:\nand gives numerous examples of Lord Macaulay\u2019s extraordinary memory and\ngreat powers of conversation.\n\n * * * * *\n\nMap of Munster (1560-80), including \u201cye cyties Corke, Lymeryke,\nWaterforde,\u201d &c., 2 feet square, with both the Old English and Irish\nNames. Coloured Facsimile, giving very minutely all the Places. 4s. 6d.\n\n * * * * *\n\nNow ready, price 5s.; by post, on roller, 5s. 4d.,\n\nMagna Charta. An Exact Facsimile of the Original Document, preserved\nin the British Museum, very carefully drawn, and printed on fine plate\npaper, nearly 3 feet long by 2 wide, with the ARMS AND SEALS OF THE\nBARONS ELABORATELY EMBLAZONED IN GOLD AND COLOURS. A.D. 1215.\n\nCOPIED BY EXPRESS PERMISSION, and the only _correct_ drawing of the\nGreat Charter _ever taken_. This important memorial of the liberties\nand rights of Englishmen is admirably adapted for framing, and would\nhang with propriety from the walls of every house in the country. As a\nguarantee to the purchaser that the facsimile is exact, the publisher\nneed only state that Sir Frederick Madden has permitted copies to hang\nfor public inspection upon the walls of the Manuscript Department in the\nBritish Museum. It was executed by Mr. Harrison, under whose auspices the\nsplendid work on the Knights of the Garter was produced some years ago.\nHANDSOMELY FRAMED AND GLAZED, IN CARVED OAK, OF AN ANTIQUE PATTERN, 22s.\n6d. _It is uniform with the \u201cRoll of Battle Abbey.\u201d_\n\nA FULL TRANSLATION, with Notes, has just been prepared, price 6d. It has\nbeen very beautifully printed on a large sheet of tinted paper by Messrs.\nWhittingham and Wilkins. It may be framed and hung beside the original,\nor can be pasted at the back, according to the taste of the purchaser.\n\n * * * * *\n\nMap of Ireland, 1567. Facsimile of an extremely curious and interesting\nold Map, about 2 feet square, giving the Names of the different Tribes,\nTowns, Villages, Castles, &c., with the Names and Territories of the\nvarious great Landed Proprietors in those days; also the Coats of Arms of\nthe old Irish Nobles. 4s. 6d.\n\n * * * * *\n\nPRIVATELY PRINTED HISTORY OF THE MILLAIS FAMILY.\n\nMillais Family, the Lineage and Pedigree of, recording its History from\n1331 to 1865, by J. BERTRAND PAYNE, with Illustrations from Designs by\nthe Author. Folio, exquisitely printed on toned paper, with the following\nEtchings, &c., price 28s.:\u2014\n\n 1. The MILLAIS ARMS, Crest and Motto, exquisitely engraved by JOHN\n EVERETT MILLAIS.\n 2. Arms of the Payne Family.\n 3. Arms of William Henry Millais, of Kingston, Surrey.\n 4. Arms of George Henry Millais.\n 5. Etching of the old Keystone of the Great Entrance Arch, at Tapon,\n S. Saviour.\n 6. Pedigree of the Millais Family, with numerous engraved Coats of\n Arms, from John Millays, of 1331, to 1865.\n 7. Arms over the Principal Entrance to Elizabeth Castle, Jersey.\n 8. Tapon Farm, the ancient residence (for three centuries) of the\n Millais Family.\n\nOf this beautiful volume only SIXTY COPIES have been PRIVATELY\nPRINTED for presents to the several members of the family. The work\nis magnificently bound in blue and gold, the _Fleur-de-lys_ and\neight-pointed star ornamenting the sides in gilt. These are believed\nto be the only etchings of an Heraldic character ever _designed and\nengraved_ by the distinguished artist of the name.\n\n * * * * *\n\nMedi\u00e6val Writers of English History, Gibson (Wm. Sidney, _author of\nthe History of Tynemouth_), Remarks on the. A popular Sketch of the\nAdvantages and Pleasures derivable from MONASTIC LITERATURE. 8vo, 1s. 6d.\n_Pickering_, 1848.\n\nAn interesting survey of the famous old _English Monastic Writers_, to\nwhose pens we are solely indebted for the History of England from the\nInvasion to the reign of Henry VIII.\n\n * * * * *\n\nMiniatures from Manuscripts of the 14th and 15th Centuries, Four\ndifferent Collections, each containing _ten_ of the FINEST AND MOST\nEXQUISITE ILLUMINATED MINIATURE PAINTINGS KNOWN TO EXIST, in bright and\ndelicate COLOURS heightened in GOLD and SILVER, 7s. 6d. each.\n\nPERFECT GEMS. The faces are equal to the finest miniatures on ivory. The\ncostumes are resplendent in colour and gold. Of very great use to those\nwho occasionally illuminate, as showing the VERY HIGHEST PERFECTION OF\nTHE ANCIENT ART.\n\n * * * * *\n\nMonastic Ruins of Yorkshire, from their Foundation to their Decay,\nby ARCHDEACON CHURTON, with magnificent Lithographs in imitation of\nthe ORIGINAL DRAWINGS, by W. RICHARDSON, 2 vols., imp. folio, proof\nimpressions, with INITIAL LETTERS COLOURED (published at \u00a318 18s), only\n\u00a35 18s.\n\nThis imposing work is exactly similar, and in every respect equal, to\nthe celebrated Sketches of the Holy Land, by David Roberts. Although it\nis now offered at a great reduction, the difficulty of reproducing the\nillustrations insures the work being soon sought after, even at a premium\non the published price.\n\n * * * * *\n\nMus\u00e9e Francais et Mus\u00e9e Royal; ou, Recueil des TABLEAUX ET BAS-RELIEFS\nQUI COMPOSENT LES GALERIES NAPOLEON ET ROYALE, PAR ROBILLARD-PERONVILLE\nET LAURENT. _Paris_, 1816-18.\n\nBOTH SERIES COMPLETE, TOGETHER 6 VOLS., ATLAS FOLIO, \u00a318 18s.\n\nNOW OFFERED AT A LOWER PRICE THAN ON ANY PREVIOUS OCCASION. The \u201cMUS\u00c9E\nFRANCAIS,\u201d in 4 vols., was published in 80 livraisons at 48 francs each,\nbeing 3,840 francs; with the \u201cMus\u00e9e Royal\u201d the 6 vols. were published at\nover \u00a3300! Copies when sold by auction have never brought less than \u00a350;\nand it is believed that the lowest price they have ever sold for on any\nprevious occasion is \u00a335.\n\nThe work comprises upwards of 500 large plates in the finest style of\nLINE ENGRAVING, from the most CELEBRATED PAINTINGS AND STATUES IS THE\nWORLD, with Descriptions and very masterly Dissertations, in FRENCH and\nENGLISH, on the state of the Fine Arts in various ages, _Illustrated with\nVignettes_.\n\nIt is possible that a passing apprehension that the Louvre might not\nalways be allowed to retain the Art Treasures for which he had laid most\nof the countries of Europe under contribution for its choicest pieces,\nled NAPOLEON to think of forming this splendid series of Line Engravings,\nthe cost of which, for engraving alone, exceeded _seventy-five thousand\npounds sterling_, defrayed mostly from the Imperial Treasury. Since the\npublication of these volumes many of the paintings and sculptures have\nbeen claimed and restored to their rightful owners; and the dispersion of\nso many choice gems enhances the value of the work which describes them\nin a collected form.\n\n_Mr. Hotten keeps sets richly bound in half red morocco, appropriately\ngilt._\n\n * * * * *\n\nMus\u00e9e Secret de Naples.\u2014A most curious work in a case, PRIVATELY PRINTED\nIN PARIS, _representing some of the more remarkable_ \u201cPeintures, Bronzes,\nMosaiques,\u201d &c., _depicting the_ CEREMONIES OBSERVED AT THE EARLIEST\nKNOWN FORM OF WORSHIP. _Paris_, MD.CCC.XL.\n\nThe \u201cSecret Museum\u201d at Naples, from the extraordinary nature of its\ncontents, has always excited the liveliest curiosity amongst antiquaries\nand students.\n\n * * * * *\n\nMundy\u2019s (Gen.) Pen and Pencil Sketches in India; or, JOURNAL OF A TOUR IN\nINDIA. 3rd edition, with many illustrations. 8vo (sells at 5s.), only 2s.\n6d.\n\nAn exceedingly amusing and instructive volume, giving Europeans an\nadmirable idea of the everyday life of a resident in India. The author\nvisited every portion of our vast empire in company with Viscount\nCombermere. The hunting stories and exploits are admirably told.\n\n * * * * *\n\nNell Gwyn, the Story of, and the Sayings of Charles the Second, related\nand collected by PETER CUNNINGHAM, F.S.A., small 8vo, _beautifully\nprinted, with numerous woodcuts relating to_ NELL GWYNNE, _cloth gilt_\n(sells at 6s.), 2s. 6d.\n\n * * * * *\n\nNovum Testamentum Gr\u00e6cum. The exquisite DIAMOND TYPE EDITION, _with\na beautiful Frontispiece of Da Vinci\u2019s Last Supper, engraved by\nWorthington_, 48mo (sells at 10s. 6d.), only 2s.\n\nArtistically bound in morocco, with exquisite taste and neatness, 11s.\n6d.; or, with the sides delicately tooled, 13s. 6d.\n\n * * * * *\n\nOrnamental Art, the Treasury of, Illustrative of Objects of Art and\nVirt\u00f9, photographed from the originals in the Museum of Ornamental Art,\nand drawn on stone by F. Bedford, with descriptive notices by J. C.\nRobinson, F.S.A., imp. 8vo, _71 plates, richly illuminated in colours and\ngold_ (pub. at \u00a33 13s. 6d.), _elegantly bound in cloth extra, gilt edges,\nnew_, \u00a31 7s.\n\nThe prejudice is gradually decaying which assigned an inferior status\nin Art to every production not a picture or a statue; and in this\nbook a choice selection of the finest specimens of _virt\u00f9_ is made to\ncombat those narrow ideas of the subject which are still popular. The\n\u00e6sthetic value and practical utility of such art is proved thus in a most\nattractive and magnificent way. THE ABOVE IS ONE OF THE MOST MAGNIFICENT\nVOLUMES OF ORNAMENTAL ART (ANCIENT JEWELLERY, CARVINGS IN WOOD AND IVORY,\nCASHMERE SHAWLS, ANCIENT METAL-WORK, SCULPTURE, GLASS-WORK, &C. &C.) EVER\nPRODUCED IN ANY COUNTRY.\n\n\u2042 _The stones have been destroyed, and Mr. Hotten has the few remaining\ncopies._\n\n * * * * *\n\nPetrarca. The exquisite Diamond type Edition, 48mo. (sells at 6s.), only\n1s. 6d. Artistically bound in morocco, with exquisite taste and neatness,\n10s. 6d.; or, with the sides delicately tooled, 12s. 6d.\n\n * * * * *\n\nPansie; the Last Literary Effort of Nathaniel HAWTHORNE.\n\n\u2042 All that remains of Hawthorne\u2019s unfinished Romance\u2014a little sketch full\nof that quaint and delightful genius which gave to the world \u201cThe House\nwith the Seven Gables\u201d and \u201cTwice-told Tales.\u201d\n\n * * * * *\n\nPhilobiblon. Excellent Traite sur l\u2019Amour des _Livres_, par Richard de\nBury. Small 8vo, _half-morocco, very neat_, EXQUISITELY PRINTED ON RIBBED\nPAPER, 12s. 6d. 1856.\n\nOnly a small number of copies were printed. This edition contains\nnumerous notes on the ancient manuscript copies existing in the old\nCathedral Libraries.\n\n * * * * *\n\nThis day, in 2 vols., 8vo, very handsomely printed, price 16s.,\n\nTHE HOUSEHOLD STORIES OF ENGLAND.\n\nPopular Romances of the West of England; or, the DROLLS OF OLD CORNWALL.\nCollected and Edited by ROBERT HUNT, F.R.S.\n\n\u2042 _For an analysis of this important work see printed description, which\nmay be obtained gratis at the Publisher\u2019s._\n\nThe Work is in Two Series. The _First_ embraces the FABULOUS AGE, or\nPREHISTORIC PERIOD; the _Second_, THE ROMANCES AND SUPERSTITIONS OF\nHISTORIC TIMES. Many of these Stories are remarkable for their wild\npoetic beauty; others surprise us by their quaintness; whilst others,\nagain, show forth a tragic force which can only be associated with those\nrude ages which existed long before the period of authentic history.\n\nMR. GEORGE CRUIKSHANK has supplied two wonderful pictures as\nillustrations to the work. One is a portrait of Giant Bolster, a\npersonage 12 _miles high_. The perspective of this extraordinary figure\nis one of the most marvellous pieces of drawing that ever came from\nCruikshank\u2019s magic pencil. The artist acknowledges that it is his most\ndaring conception.\n\n\u2042 A limited number of proofs, on _India paper_, have been struck off,\nprice 7s. 6d. the two illustrations.\n\n * * * * *\n\nTHE NEW BOOK OF HUMOROUS VERSE.\n\nNow ready, in square 8vo, handsomely printed by CLAY, cloth extra, full\ngilt (price 7s. 6d.), a few copies at 3s. 6d. each,\n\nPuck on Pegasus. By H. Cholmondeley Pennell. With NUMEROUS ILLUSTRATIONS\nby JOHN LEECH, GEORGE CRUIKSHANK, TENNIEL, \u201cPHIZ\u201d (HABLOT K. BROWNE), and\nJULIAN PORTCH.\n\n\u201cHumorous Poetry of the genuine Ingoldsby or Bon Gaultier kind, with\nPictures by the right Artists, is always welcomed by the reading public.\nThe illustrations of \u2018Puck on Pegasus\u2019 are by John Leech, George\nCruikshank, Tenniel, Phiz (Hablot K. Browne), and Julian Portch, names\nredolent of mirth and humour.\u201d\u2014_London Review._\n\n * * * * *\n\nNow ready, SECOND EDITION, in binding ornamented with postage stamps,\nprice 1s., by post 1s. 2d.,\n\nPostage-Stamp Collecting, a Standard Guide to; Or, A Complete List of\nall the Postage Stamps known to exist, with their Values and Degrees of\nRarity. By MESSRS. BELLARS AND DAVIE.\n\n\u2042 _This_ SECOND EDITION _gives upwards of 300 Stamps not in the previous\nissue_.\n\n\u201cA new handbook is about to appear, with the title, \u2018_The Standard Guide\nto Postage-Stamp Collecting, with their Values and Degrees of Rarity_,\u2019 a\nwork upon which the authors, Messrs. Bellars and Davie, have been engaged\nfor three years. It will include an account of the Mormon Stamp issued by\nBrigham Young in 1852.\u201d\u2014_London Review._\n\n\u201cUnexceptionable in the quality of the paper, clearness of print, &c.,\nit affords an addition to the scientific knowledge attainable by means\nof the study of postage stamps. A table of characters affords the\npossessor an opportunity of obtaining an acquaintance with the shape and\ncomparative rarity of stamps. This insight into the marketable value and\nscarcity of postage stamps is a new feature in books on the subject. The\nexact words of the inscription on the stamps is greatly conducive to\nfacility of identification, and the queer characters on the Moldavian,\nRussian, &c., stamps, copied without error, demonstrate the extreme care\nwith which the work must have been got up. The index and money table\nappended will be found very convenient.\u201d\u2014_The Stamp Collectors\u2019 Magazine._\n\n * * * * *\n\nTHE HITHERTO UNKNOWN POEM, WRITTEN BY JOHN BUNYAN, whilst confined in\nBedford Jail, for the Support of his Family, entitled,\n\nProfitable Meditations, Fitted to Man\u2019s Different CONDITION: in a\nConference between Christ and a Sinner. By JOHN BUNYAN, Servant to the\nLord Jesus Christ. _Small 4to, half-morocco, very neat, price 7s. 6d._\nTHE FEW REMAINING COPIES NOW OFFERED AT 4s. 6d.\n\nThis very interesting literary memorial of the Author of the celebrated\nPilgrim\u2019s Progress has been choicely reprinted by Whittingham, from the\nonly known copy lately discovered by the publisher. It has been edited,\nwith an Introduction, by George Offor, Esq. The impression is limited.\n\n\u201cA highly-interesting memorial of the great allegorist.\u201d\u2014_Athen\u00e6um._\n\n * * * * *\n\nRoberts\u2019 (David) Sketches of the Holy Land, Syria, Idumea, Arabia, Egypt,\nand Nubia, _with two hundred and fifty splendid lithographic plates, from\nthose of Louis Haghe_, and Historical and Descriptive Notices by the Rev.\nG. CROLY, LL.D. _Library edition_, 6 vols., 4to, bound in 3, CRIMSON\nMOROCCO GILT, _gilt edges_ (sells at \u00a321 21s.), only \u00a34 18s.\n\nIb. 6 VOLS. HALF MOROCCO, VERY NEAT, \u00a34 4s.\n\nIb. 6 VOLS. IN CLOTH, ELEGANT, \u00a33 18s.\n\n * * * * *\n\nThis day, on toned paper, price 6d.,\n\nRobson; a Sketch, by George Augustus Sala. An interesting Biography of\nthe great Serio-Comic Actor, with sketches of his famous characters, \u201cJem\nBaggs,\u201d \u201cBoots at the Swan,\u201d \u201cThe Yellow Dwarf,\u201d \u201cDaddy Hardacre,\u201d &c.\n_Anecdotes of the old Olympic Theatre are also given._\n\n * * * * *\n\nRodd\u2019s Collection of Scarce and Curious Portraits, to illustrate\nGrainger\u2019s History of England, forming a Supplement to _Richardson\u2019s_\nwell-known collection, above 50 _plates_, faithfully copied from RARE\nORIGINALS, 2 vols in 1, 4to, half bound, neat, _edges uncut_, LARGE\nPAPER, 12s. 6d. only.\n\nA very interesting collection. Many of the portraits are from unique\ncopies.\n\n * * * * *\n\nILLUSTRATED EDITION OF ROGERS\u2019 POEMS.\n\nRogers\u2019 (Samuel) Poems, 1860. The Author\u2019s LUXURIOUS EDITION, WITH THE\nDELIGHTFUL VIGNETTES OF W. M. TURNER, STOTHARD, FLAXMAN, AND OTHERS,\nENGRAVED IN THE MOST DELICATE AND HIGHLY-FINISHED STYLE by FINDEN. 8vo,\n_with portrait and memoir_, FINE IMPRESSIONS, _cloth gilt_ (sells at\n28s.), 8s. 6d.\n\nA few picked copies have been selected and bound to various patterns in\nthe best morocco.\n\nMOROCCO, VERY PLAIN AND NEAT, WITH A SIMPLE GOLD THREAD AROUND THE SIDES,\nGILT EDGES, 17s. 6d.\n\nIN POLISHED MOROCCO OF THE VERY FINEST GRAIN, WITH BEVELLED BOARDS, VERY\nHIGHLY FINISHED, THE EDGES GILT AND BURNISHED, 25s.\n\n * * * * *\n\nNow ready, in 4to, very handsomely printed, with curious woodcut initial\nletters, by Whittingham and Wilkins, extra cloth, 18s.; or crimson\nmorocco extra, the sides and back covered in rich fleur-de-lys, gold\ntooling, 55s.,\n\nRoll of Carlaverlock; with the Arms of the Earls, BARONS, AND KNIGHTS\nWHO WERE PRESENT AT THE SIEGE OF THIS CASTLE IN SCOTLAND, 28 Edward I.,\nA.D. 1300; including the ORIGINAL ANGLO-NORMAN POEM, and an _English\nTranslation_ of the MS. in the British Museum; the whole newly edited by\nTHOMAS WRIGHT, Esq., M.A., F.S.A.\n\nA very handsome volume, and a delightful one to lovers of Heraldry, as\nit is the _earliest blazon of arms known to exist_. \u201cIt contains the\naccurate blazon of above one hundred Knights or Bannerets of the reign of\nEdward I., among whom were the King, the Prince of Wales, and a greater\npart of the Peers of the realm;\u201d thus affording evidence of the perfect\nstate of the Science of Heraldry at that early period. THE ARMS ARE\nEXQUISITELY EMBLAZONED IN GOLD AND COLOURS.\n\n * * * * *\n\nNow ready, uniform with \u201cMagna Charta,\u201d price 5s.; by post, on roller,\n5s. 4d.,\n\nRoll of Battle Abbey; or, a List of the Principal WARRIORS who came over\nfrom Normandy with WILLIAM THE CONQUEROR and settled in this country,\nA.D. 1066-7, from Authentic Documents, very carefully drawn, and printed\non fine plate paper, nearly three feet long by two feet wide, with the\nARMS OF THE PRINCIPAL BARONS ELABORATELY EMBLAZONED IN GOLD AND COLOURS.\n\nA MOST CURIOUS DOCUMENT, and of the greatest interest, as the descendants\nof nearly all these Norman Conquerors are at this moment living amongst\nus, bearing the old Anglo-Norman names, slightly altered, but little\ndreaming of the relationship betwixt them and the bold warriors who\nfought and won at Hastings nearly a thousand years ago. The writing, of\nthe period, is very legible. _No names are believed to be in this \u201cBattel\nRoll\u201d which are not fully entitled to the distinction._ HANDSOMELY FRAMED\nAND GLAZED, IN CARVED OAK, OF AN ANTIQUE PATTERN, price 22s. 6d.\n\n * * * * *\n\nNEW DICTIONARY OF COLLOQUIAL ENGLISH.\n\nSlang Dictionary; or, The Vulgar Words, Street PHRASES, and \u201cFAST\u201d\nEXPRESSIONS OF HIGH and LOW SOCIETY; many with their Etymology, and a few\nwith their History traced. WITH CURIOUS ILLUSTRATIONS. Pp. 328, in 8vo,\nprice 6s. 6d., by post, 7s.\n\n\u2042 One hundred and forty newspapers in this country alone have reviewed\nwith approbation this Dictionary of Colloquial English. The _Times_\ndevoted three columns to explain its merits, and the little _John\no\u2019 Groat\u2019s Journal_ gave its modest paragraph in eulogy. \u201cIt may\nbe doubted if there exists a more amusing volume in the English\nlanguage.\u201d\u2014_Spectator._ \u201cValuable as a work of reference.\u201d\u2014_Saturday\nReview._ \u201cAll classes of society will find amusement and instruction in\nits pages.\u201d\u2014_Times._\n\n LITERARY SLANG.\n RELIGIOUS SLANG.\n FASHIONABLE SLANG.\n MILITARY SLANG.\n CITY SLANG.\n SPORTING SLANG.\n UNIVERSITY SLANG.\n DANDY SLANG.\n LEGAL SLANG.\n THEATRICAL SLANG.\n SHOPKEEPERS\u2019 SLANG.\n STREET SLANG.\n\n\u2042 With this work is incorporated _The Dictionary of Modern Slang, Cant,\nand Vulgar Words_, issued by \u201ca London Antiquary\u201d in 1859. The first\nedition of that work contained about 3,000 words; the second, issued\ntwelve months later, gave upwards of 5,000. Both editions were reviewed\nby the critical press with an approval seldom accorded to small works of\nthe kind. During the six years that have elapsed, the compiler has gone\nover the field of unrecognised English once more. The entire subject has\nbeen resurveyed, outlying terms and phrases have been brought in, new\nstreet-words have been added, and better illustrations of old colloquial\nexpressions given. The result is the volume before the reader, which\noffers, for his amusement or instruction, nearly 10,000 words and phrases\ncommonly deemed \u201cvulgar,\u201d but which are used by the highest and lowest,\nthe best, the wisest, as well as the worst and most ignorant of society.\n\n * * * * *\n\nShakspeare\u2019s Dramatic Works. One of a few Copies ON A FINE AND BEAUTIFUL\nPAPER, _the printing by Whittingham of Chiswick_, THE ILLUSTRATIONS BY\nSTOTHARD, _with charming little ornamental head-pieces, half morocco,\nvery neat, top edge crimsoned_, contents lettered, 10 vols., post 8vo\n(sells at \u00a36 15s., unbound), 58s. only; or, in yellow (or green) calf\nextra and delicately-tooled backs, \u00a35 18s. WHITTINGHAM, 1856.\n\nThe only really handsome and readable edition of Shakspeare, convenient\nin size and accurate in text, ever printed. A _choicely-printed_ edition\nhas long been a positive want. I can recommend the above in the strongest\nterms. BUT A LIMITED NUMBER WERE PRINTED ON THIS BEAUTIFUL PAPER, WITH\nGLORIOUS MARGINS.\n\n * * * * *\n\nStokes (H. Sewell of Truro) the Vale of Lanherne, and other Poems, 8vo,\n_best edition, with numerous_ TINTED ILLUSTRATIONS DEPICTING THE LOVELY\nSCENERY OF THE NEIGHBOURHOOD (sells at 12s. 6d.), _perfectly new and\nfresh, in cloth, elegant_, for 3s. 6d. Longman, 1853.\n\nIt was quite by accident that the publisher fell in with a few copies\nof this delightful volume at an exceedingly low price. In the old\nbook market copies have been scarce for some time past. Amongst the\nILLUSTRATIONS may be enumerated the VALE OF LANHERNE\u2014NUNNERY OF LANHERNE\nAND CHURCH OF ST. MAWGAN\u2014ANCIENT CROSS IN MAWGAN CHURCHYARD\u2014TREGURRION\nBAY\u2014THE NORWEGIAN\u2019S ROCK, and the EYRY.\n\n * * * * *\n\nTasso, la Gerusalemme Liberata. The exquisite DIAMOND TYPE EDITION, 2\nvols., 48mo. (sells at 10s.), only 2s.\n\nArtistically bound in morocco, with exquisite taste and neatness, 21s.\nor, with the sides delicately tooled, 25s.\n\n * * * * *\n\nTen Thousand Wonderful Things, comprising the MARVELLOUS and RARE, ODD,\nCURIOUS, QUAINT, ECCENTRIC, and EXTRAORDINARY in All Ages and Nations,\nin Art, Nature, and Science, including many Wonders of the World. By\nED. FILLINGHAM KING, M.A. Post 8vo, 684 pages, WITH UPWARDS OF 400 VERY\nINTERESTING WOODCUTS, COMPRISING NEARLY EVERYTHING NOTICEABLE IN NATURE\nAND ART, _neatly half-bound morocco, cloth sides, 4s. 10d. only_.\n\nA most amusing at the same time that it is a very instructive volume. It\ncontains the pith of _Notes and Queries_, the whole of Mr. John Timbs\u2019\nlabours in the world of literary curiosity, the essence of half-a-dozen\nEncyclop\u00e6dias, the marrow of such journals as the old _Penny Magazine_,\nand admirable selections from the most rare, quaint, and marvellous books\nin the British Museum and elsewhere. Open the work at any page, and the\nreader is sure to be _edified and interested_\u2014and this is more than can\nbe said of one book in ten thousand.\n\n * * * * *\n\nTerentius. The exquisite Diamond Type Edition, 48mo. (sells at 6s), only\n1s. 6d.\n\nArtistically bound in morocco, with exquisite taste and neatness, 10s.\n6d; or, with the sides delicately tooled, 12s. 6d.\n\n * * * * *\n\nLIFE AND ANECDOTES OF THACKERAY.\n\nNow ready, in post 8vo, beautifully printed, price 7s. 6d.,\n\nThackeray: the Humourist and the Man of Letters. The Story of his Life\nand Literary Labours. With some particulars of his Early Career never\nbefore made public. By THEODORE TAYLOR, Esq., Membre de la Soci\u00e9t\u00e9 des\nGens de Lettres.\n\nIllustrated with a PHOTOGRAPHIC PORTRAIT (_one of the most\nCHARACTERISTIC known to have been taken_) by ERNEST EDWARDS, B.A.; view\nof MR. THACKERAY\u2019S HOUSE, built after a favourite design of the great\nNovelist\u2019s; FACSIMILE OF HIS HANDWRITING, long noted in London literary\ncircles for its exquisite neatness; and a curious little sketch of his\nCOAT OF ARMS, a pen and pencil humorously introduced as the crest, the\nmotto \u201cNOBILITAS EST SOLA VIRTUS\u201d (_Virtue is the sole nobility_).\n\nINCLUDES ANECDOTES of the London Literati during the past thirty years;\naccount of the THACKERAY FAMILY, showing the origin of their connexion\nwith India; THACKERAY\u2019S SCHOOL-DAYS at the Charterhouse; his career at\nCAMBRIDGE; residence in GERMANY, and ART-STUDIES IN PARIS; literary\napprenticeship in London; his connexion with \u201cFraser\u201d and Maginn\u2019s staff;\nhis marriage; partiality to Kensington as a place of residence; his\npublication of \u201cVANITY FAIR,\u201d and the establishment of his fame; with\nmany other interesting matters connected with his literary career.\n\n * * * * *\n\n12th Thousand, beautifully printed, 12mo, neat, 1s.; by post, 1s. 2d.,\nTHE CHOICEST HUMOROUS POETRY OF THE AGE.\n\nThe Biglow Papers. By James Russell Lowell.\n\n\u2042 _This Edition has been Edited with additional Notes explanatory of the\npersons and subjects mentioned therein, and is the only complete and\ncorrect Edition published in this country._\n\n\u201cThe celebrated \u2018Biglow Papers.\u2019\u201d\u2014_Times_, July 25th.\n\n\u201cThe Rhymes are as startling and felicitous as any in \u2018Hudibras.\u2019 \u2018Sam\nSlick\u2019 is a mere pretender in comparison.\u201d\u2014_Blackwood\u2019s Magazine._\n\n\u201cThe fun of the \u2018Biglow Papers\u2019 is quite equal to the fun of the\n\u2018Ingoldsby Legends.\u2019 This is the real doggerel, the Rabelaiesque of\npoetry.\u201d\u2014_Fraser._\n\n\u2042 _An Edition with_ COLOURED ILLUSTRATIONS _by_ GEORGE CRUIKSHANK has\nbeen prepared, strongly bound in cloth, price 3s. 6d. per copy.\n\n * * * * *\n\nANECDOTES OF THE \u201cLONG PARLIAMENT\u201d OF 1645.\n\nNow ready, in small 4to, half morocco, very choicely printed by\nWhittingham, with floreated capitals, price 7s. 6d.,\n\nThe Mystery of the Good Cause: Sarcastic Notices of those Members of the\nLONG PARLIAMENT that held Places, both Civil and Military, contrary to\nthe Self-denying Ordinance of April 3, 1645; with the Sums of Money and\nLands they divided among themselves.\n\nGives many curious particulars about the famous Assembly not mentioned\nby historians or biographers. It has just been very carefully reprinted\nfrom the excessively rare original. The history of almost every county in\nEngland receives some illustration from it. Genealogists and antiquaries\nwill find in it much interesting matter.\n\n * * * * *\n\nGUNTER\u2019S CONFECTIONERY.\n\nNow ready, handsomely printed, post 8vo, with numerous Illustrations,\nprice 6s. 6d.,\n\nThe Modern Confectioner: a Practical Guide to the latest and most\nimproved methods for making the various kinds of Confectionery; with the\nmanner of Preparing and Laying out Desserts; adapted for Private Families\nor Large Establishments. By WILLIAM JEANES, Chief Confectioner at Messrs.\nGunter\u2019s (Confectioners to Her Majesty), Berkeley-square.\n\n\u2042 A new and reliable work on the making of Confectionery and the Laying\nout of Desserts has long been wanted. No pains have been spared to make\nthe present book a useful and safe guide to all Cooks and Housekeepers\nin private families or large establishments. The Name of the Chief\nConfectioner at the justly-celebrated house of Gunter & Co., in\nBerkeley-square, is a sufficient guarantee of the usefulness of the book.\n\n\u201cThe most important work which has been published for many years upon the\nart of making Confectionery, Pastry, and on the arrangement and general\nordering of Desserts.\u201d\u2014_Daily News._\n\n\u201cThe language is so simple that a child can with ease understand the\nlongest recipes.\u201d\u2014_Observer._\n\n\u201cAll housekeepers should have it.\u201d\u2014_Daily Telegraph._\n\n * * * * *\n\nNow ready, in cloth extra (only a few copies for sale), price 15s.,\n\nThe Noble and Gentlemen of England; or, Notes touching the Arms and\nDescents _of the Ancient Knightly and Gentle Houses of England_, arranged\nin their respective Counties, attempted by EVELYN PHILIP SHIRLEY, Esq.,\nM.A., F.S.A., one of the Knights of the Shire for the County of Warwick,\n4to, HANDSOMELY PRINTED, pp. 321, _with numerous heraldic illustrations_.\n\nA very interesting work on the English Families now existing, that\nwere regularly established either as _knightly_ or _gentle_ houses\nbefore 1500. It notices also the ancient and present estates of these\ncounty families. The work possesses considerable value to those who are\ninterested in genealogical and heraldic studies.\n\n * * * * *\n\nSHAKESPEARE\u2019S ENGLAND.\n\nThornbury\u2019s (Walter) Shakespeare\u2019s England: Sketches of SOCIAL HISTORY\nin the REIGN of ELIZABETH. 2 vols, crown 8vo. _Published by_ LONGMAN _at\n21s., only 4s. 9d., quite perfect, and newly bound in cloth_.\n\nTwo most interesting and READABLE volumes, thoroughly entering into\nthe spirit of that most romantic period of English history, containing\nChapters on the STREETS OF OLD LONDON, MANSIONS AND PALACES, BEAR\nGARDENS, BARTHOLOMEW FAIR, ELIZABETHAN AMUSEMENTS, CURIOUS DISHES,\nDRINKS, SUPERSTITIONS, ALCHEMY, WITCHCRAFT, REVELS, YOUTHFUL SPORTS, &c.\n&c.\n\n * * * * *\n\nTobacco; its History, Cultivation, Manufacture, and Adulterations. By\nANDREW STEINMETZ. 12mo, 9d.\n\nA curious little Book of nearly 200 pages, relative to the often-repeated\nquestion, \u201cIS SMOKING INJURIOUS TO HEALTH?\u201d\n\nThe author, however, speaks somewhat in favour of the habit.\n\n * * * * *\n\nNow ready, 8vo, price 1s.,\n\nTraditionary Anecdotes of Shakespeare, collected in Warwickshire in the\nyear 1693, from the original MS. Edited by J. P. COLLIER.\n\n * * * * *\n\nTrelawny\u2019s (E. J.) Recollections of the Last Days of SHELLEY and BYRON.\n8vo, _fine portrait and plate_ (sells at 9s.), only 3s. 6d.\n\nTrelawny was the intimate companion of Byron and Shelley, and was the\nfirst to find the body of the latter after the unfortunate accident which\nwas the cause of his death. The book gives many particulars never before\nmade public.\n\n * * * * *\n\nNow ready, on toned paper, handsomely printed, price 1s. 6d.,\n\nVere Vereker\u2019s Vengeance; A Sensation in Several PAROXYSMS, BY THOMAS\nHOOD, IDIOTICALLY ILLUSTRATED BY WILLIAM BRUNTON.\n\n\u2042 One of the most amusing volumes which have been published for a long\ntime. For a piece of broad humour, of the highly-sensational kind, it is\nperhaps the best effort of Mr. Hood\u2019s pen.\n\n * * * * *\n\nVirgilii Opera, ed. Joannis Bond. Didot\u2019s exquisite _edition, in small\nbut very legible type_, WITH NUMEROUS MOST BEAUTIFUL PHOTOGRAPHS, FROM\nPAINTINGS by _M. Barrias_. 24mo. 35_s._\n\n_The most exquisite Classically illustrated edition of Virgil ever\npublished._\n\nChoicely bound in morocco of the finest quality, tooled and gilt in the\nmost finished style, 58s.; or with elaborately tooled sides, after an\nancient pattern, \u00a33 5s.\n\n * * * * *\n\nBEST FRENCH LESSON BOOK EVER PUBLISHED.\n\nOrdinary price, 5s., a few copies now offered at 3s. 6d.,\n\nVocabulaire Symbolique. A Symbolic French and English Vocabulary, for\nStudents of every age. By RAGONET. Illustrated by many hundred Woodcuts,\nexhibiting familiar objects of every description, with French and English\nExplanations, thus stamping the French terms and phrases indelibly on the\nmind.\n\n * * * * *\n\nWalton\u2019s Lives of Donne, Wotton, Hooker, Herbert, and Sanderson. 48mo.\nTHE EXQUISITE DIAMOND TYPE EDITION. _Portraits_ (sells at 6s.), only 1s.\n6d.\n\nArtistically bound in morocco, with exquisite taste and neatness, 10s.\n6d.; or, with the sides delicately tooled, 12s. 6d.\n\n * * * * *\n\nINTERNATIONAL EXHIBITION OF 1862.\n\nWaring\u2019s Masterpieces of Industrial Art and Sculpture at the EXHIBITION\nof 1862. 3 VOLS. FOLIO, AN ORIGINAL SUBSCRIBER\u2019S COPY, PERFECTLY CLEAN,\nIN PARTS (cost \u00a318 18s.), \u00a312 18s.\n\nThe publishers destroyed the stones on the closing of the subscription\nlist, and no more copies were printed than those subscribed for.\n\n * * * * *\n\nNow ready, price 2s.; by post, on roller, 2s. 4d.,\n\nWarrant to Execute Charles I. An Exact Facsimile of this Important\nDocument in the House of Lords, with the FIFTY-NINE SIGNATURES of the\nRegicides, and Corresponding Seals, admirably executed on paper made to\nimitate the original Document, 22 in. by 14 in.\n\nCOPIED BY EXPRESS PERMISSION.\u2014King Charles I., January 20th, 1648, was\nbrought from St. James\u2019s to Sir R. Cotton\u2019s house (now the Speaker\u2019s\nresidence), and was four days arraigned at the bar of the House of\nCommons by Bradshaw, and seventy-nine Judges Commissioners, named for\nhis Trial. The original document was kept in the Old House of Peers\u2019\nLibrary, and being saved from the Fire, was preserved in the Poet\u2019s\nTower, and is now under the librarian\u2019s care at the House of Lords. Some\nof the Regicides died in America, while many of the children of those\nexecuted at the Restoration betook themselves to that country, and laid\nthe foundations of many of the first families in New England. HANDSOMELY\nFRAMED AND GLAZED, IN CARVED OAK, OF AN ANTIQUE PATTERN, 14s. 6d.\n\n * * * * *\n\nNow ready, safe on roller, 2s.; by post, 2s. 4d.,\n\nWarrant to Execute Mary Queen of Scots. The Exact Facsimile of this\nImportant Document, including the Signature of Queen Elizabeth and\nFacsimile of the Great Seal, on tinted paper, _made to imitate the\noriginal MS._\n\n\u201cI praise and thank my God that it pleases Him to put an end by this\nto the many miseries and calamities that they have compelled me to\nendure; for, since nineteen years up to the present moment, I have\nbeen constituted a prisoner, and very evilly entreated by the Queen of\nEngland, my sister, without ever having injured, as God is my principal\nwitness.\u201d\u2014_Mary\u2019s Reply to my Lord Beale, who was commissioned to inform\nher of Elizabeth\u2019s Sentence of Death._ HANDSOMELY FRAMED AND GLAZED, IN\nCARVED OAK, OF AN ANTIQUE PATTERN, 14s. 6d.\n\n * * * * *\n\nANTIQUITIES OF DENMARK AND ENGLAND.\n\nWorsa\u00e6\u2019s Primeval Antiquities of Denmark. Translated and APPLIED to\nthe Illustration of SIMILAR REMAINS in ENGLAND by W. J. THOMS. 8vo.\n_Abounding with finely-cut Wood Engravings by Jewitt._ A NEW COPY IN\nCLOTH, 3s. 9d. (sells at 10s. 6d.)\n\nThe history and account of _Ancient_ DENMARK, its MONUMENTS, BURIAL\nMOUNDS, SEPULCHRAL STONES, and FIRE BEACONS, its GIANT and FAIRY LORE,\noffer many curious points of resemblance to our own early history. Whilst\nthe Antiquities of Rome, Greece, and Egypt have been carefully examined\nand systematically described by English writers, the primeval national\nantiquities of the British Islands have never hitherto been brought into\na scientific arrangement. The close connexion which in the old time\nexisted between Denmark and the British Islands renders it natural that\nBritish antiquaries should turn with interest to the antiquities of\nDenmark, and compare them with those of their own country. THE BOOK HAS\nLONG BEEN SCARCE.\n\n * * * * *\n\nNow ready, with nearly 300 Drawings from Nature, 2s. 6d. plain, 4s.\ncoloured by hand, The\n\nYoung Botanist: a Popular Guide to Elementary Botany. By T. S. RALPH, of\nthe Linnean Society.\n\n\u2042 An excellent book for the young beginner. \u201cThe plan which has been\nadopted is as simple as the author has found it to be in his power\nto follow out. As few hard names as possible have been employed, and\nwhen so used will generally be found accompanied with some familiar\nexpression which can be adopted as a substitute. The objects selected as\nillustrations are either easy of access as specimens of wild plants, or\nare common in gardens.\u201d\n\n * * * * *\n\n\u2042 _Where any difficulty occurs in the supply, postage-stamps may be\nremitted direct to the Publisher, who will forward per return. Post\nOffice Orders payable at 57, Piccadilly. Parcels to the value of 2l. sent\ncarriage paid to any reasonable distance._\n\n * * * * *\n\n\u2042 _The Reader is requested to note the following announcements of New and\nInteresting Books_:\u2014\n\nTHE HISTORY OF SIGNBOARDS, FROM THE EARLIEST TIMES TO THE PRESENT DAY.\n\n[Illustration]\n\nWith ANECDOTES of FAMOUS TAVERNS, REMARKABLE CHARACTERS, Ancient MARTS of\nBUSINESS, COFFEE and other OLD HOUSES in the large and small Towns up and\ndown the Country.\n\nBy JACOB LARWOOD, assisted by another OLD HAND.\n\n\u2042 Nearly 100 most curious Illustrations on Wood are given, showing the\nvarious old Signs which were formerly hung from Taverns and other houses.\n\n * * * * *\n\nIN ACTIVE PREPARATION.\n\nIn 1 vol., small 8vo,\n\nA Pedlar\u2019s Wallet. By Dudley Costello.\n\nUniform with the CHOICEST JESTS, exquisitely printed,\n\nChoicest Humorous Anecdotes and Short Stories in the English Language.\n\nUniform with the above, exquisitely printed, The Choicest Epigrams in the\nEnglish Language.\n\nUniform with the above, exquisitely printed, The Choicest Humorous Poetry\nin the English Language.\n\n\u2042 The above are the result of many years\u2019 literary toil in the byeways\nand highways of English Literature. Readers who found amusement in the\nrecently-published \u201cSLANG DICTIONARY\u201d will not regret any acquaintance\nthey may form with the above.\n\n * * * * *\n\nIn One Volume, exquisitely printed from silver-faced type, price 4s. 6d.,\n\nTHE CHOICEST JESTS OF ENGLISH WITS;\n\nFrom the Rude Jokes of Ancient Jesters to the refined and impromptu\nWitticisms of Theodore Hook and Douglas Jerrold; including\n\nTHE CREAM OF JOE MILLER:\n\nComprising the best Sayings, Facetious and Merry, which have contributed\nto give to our country the name of Merry England.\n\nSELECTED AND EDITED BY\n\nW. MOY THOMAS, Esq.\n\n\u2042 This work has been in preparation since 1858. Nearly 500 curious old\nJEST BOOKS and collections of famous WITTICISMS are being examined for\nmaterials. It is believed that no similar compilation issued since the\ndays when Jack Mottley compiled the book of Jests usually attributed to\n\u201cJOE MILLER\u201d will be found to excel the above for true wit and refined\nhumour.\n\n * * * * *\n\nNow ready, on toned paper, handsomely printed, price 1s. 6d\n\n_Vere Vereker\u2019s Vengeance_,\n\n[Illustration]\n\nA SENSATION\n\nIN\n\nSEVERAL PAROXYSMS.\n\nBY THOMAS HOOD.\n\nIDIOTICALLY ILLUSTRATED BY WILLIAM BRUNTON.\n\n\u2042 One of the most amusing volumes which have been published for a long\ntime. For a piece of broad humour, of the highly sensational kind, it is\nperhaps the best effort of Mr. Hood\u2019s pen.\n\n_John Camden Hotten, 74 and 75, Piccadilly_","title":"Popular Romances of the West of England, Second Series: or, The Drolls, Traditions, and Superstitions of Old Cornwall","tradition":"myth-cosmogony","translated_text":null,"word_count":98309}