1 ^^^^^H^ ^^^^B' f 1 >?^^^. THE LIBRARY OF THE UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA LOS ANGELES i^:i0n$|ir]i 1 0i|f ^ fiji^iitiil POEMS; ?^itb some uttouiit of ^ntitut CUSTOMS, SUPEIiSTITIONS. AND TI[ADITIONS. BY ELIAS TOZER, Editor, &;c., of " Devon Weekly Times" and "Evening Express." EXETER: Printed and Published at tlie Ofllce of the Devov Weekly Times, &c. 22G, High Street. May be had of all EookEellers. .I_ An interest of much sadness attaches to this publication. Undertaken by the Author in what were believed to be the convalescent moments of a long illness, its compilation was nearly ended when his hand and brain failed, and after a brief interval were stilled for ever. December, 1873. PREFACE. The contents of this vohime, from the pen of "Tickler," (who now drops his nom de phmie, and signs his own proper name,) have, for the most part, appeared from time to time in the cohimns of the Devon Weekly Times and Evening Express. The poems are simple, and doubtless defective enough ; but they are expressions of sincere homage and reverence paid to Nature, and to her beautiful and varied manifestations in his dearly-loved native county. Moreover, they are the earnest expressions of principles in which the writer has for many years ardently believed. As to the Devonshire Superstitions and Traditions, they are by no means so comjjlete as they would have been if the writer could have given more time for research. The Traditions of the old county deserve the attention of one who could devote a great deal of leisure, collecting them from various scattered sources, and v/ho is actuated by the feeling that, in view of the advancement of education and knowledge, there are very old things worth preserving and handing down to posterity as interesting and instructive relics of the Past. This little work h.is been published at the earnest solicitation of friends, and the reader must kindly take it for what it is worth. ELIAS TOZER. 808474 DED ICATIOK I PKDICATE Tins LITTLE BOOK TO MY WIFE, WHO HAS LOYALLY SHABED WITH ME MANY HEAVY GRIEFS, AND PARTICIPATE!) IN WHATEVER JOYS HAVE BEEN VOUCHSAFED TO US, THROUGH MORE THAN A (^H'AKTER OF A CENTURY OF WEDDED LIFE. CONTENTS. Morning An Invitation After Clouds Joy in Natiu'O ... Spring Longings The Brook Fairj- Queen Lead in the May Friendship God in Nature Shine on my Love Take Comfort The Stream by the Sea The Old Myrtle Tree ... The Honej'suckle The Hallowed Day ... The Voice of the Kiver False Worship Princess Louise iu Exeter Blossoms The Bird Concert Spring Flowers The Dying Girl with me ? ) 39 ... 15 Men of Devon 1 up, be doing... 40 ... 1(5 The Hazel Tree..." 41 ... 17 AuOldEustic's "Coorting" Story 42 ... 17 On Cawsand Beacon 43 ... 18 The Wood Anemone 44 ... 19 Coming Spring ... 44 ... 20 Autumnal Musings 45 ... 21 The Old Round Table 46 ... 21 Past and Present 47 ... 22 Song of the Poor Relation 48 ... 24 Merry Christmas 49 Irops 2.5 Christmas Home Thoughts ... 50 ... 2G Satan's Visit to North Lew ... 52 ... 27 Simon Thorn 53 ... 28 My Pnrty Jane 56 ... 2!) The Old Man's Song 58 ... 30 Evening GO ANCIENT SUPERSTITIONS, &c. Page Good Friday 63 Easter Eve and '' Lent Crocking" 64 Midsummer and "Wassailing" 6.^ Days of the Week and May Day G7 Diseases and the Devil... ... 68 Harvest Home and Baptisms ... 70 "Flying Node" 71 Cattle on Christmas Eve ... 71 Birds of 111 Omen — a Romance 72 " The Cows and the Pixies" ... 74 Pixy and Fairy Lore 76 Page Jack Hannaford 82 Sir Francis Drake and the Devils 84 The Sick Clerk and his Sub- \ „- stitute } Historical Tradition 86 Witches 87 The Story of Lady Howard ... 90 Laying of Ghosts 91 Horse Hags ... ... ... 92 Haunted Houses 93 '•Yeth" Hounds 94 ERRATUM. Page 39, oth verse, 2nd line, read '"shining" for "sLing." MORNINa. (^OFTLY breaks the morning light '^ O'er the peaceful, slumbering earth, Banishing the gloom of night. Waking all things into mirth. Rosy beams illume the hills, Then, descending, valleys grow ; Now no cloud of darkness fills Any spot of earth below. Thus the Truth, in silent power, Dawns upon the human brain, Touching first the heights that tower. Then, expanding, floods the plain. Mental heights all batli'd in Love, Earnest hearts, that will not rest. Until vale and darkened grove Sliine, with God's bright glory blest. groat Source of every Good, Scatter evil, falsehood, strife ; Let thy spirit o'er us brood. Fill the world with light and life. AN INVITATION. <^ING, jocund birdj from your home in tlie !& spray, Wake Happy thoughts, by the power of your lay : The sun now is shining, the clouds are all gone. Oh ! sing in the golden hours, after the dawn. Sweet flow'rs bloom brightly on dear Mother Earth, Children play wildly, with laughter and mirth. Cattle, in peace, browse in meadow and field. Everywhere Nature her rich treasures yield. Eyes have been clouded with sorrow's hot tears. Hearts have been filled with the direst of fears : But joy now has come, precious gift from above. And o'er all the earth broods the Spirit of Love. Sing, jocund bird, from your home in the spray. Wake happy thoughts by the power of your lay : The Sun now is shining, the clouds are all gone. Oh ! sing in the golden hours, after the dawn. AFTER CLOUDS. I FTER rain and cloudy skies, «><'*> Sunbeams gladden hearts and cyes,- All things growing seem caressed By a hand divine and blest : And the Soul, o'ercast with care. Lifts itself in faith and pray'r ; Light flows down in golden streams — Healing, as celestial beams. JOY IN NATURE. 'HEN tliy heart is faint and low, When thy mind is sore distressed. Go, see Sunset\s golden glow Grlorify the distant West. Friends prove false and cold to thee, Waste not thon the fleeting hours ; Grief is hurtful — fi'om it flee ; Go amidst the Summer flow'rs. Wander in the solemn grove, 'Neath the shadow of the trees ; Listen to the strains of love Borne upon the Summer breeze. Think not of the world thou'st left. Let thy cares pass with the wind ; Be not of thy joy bereft. Nature will insphe thy mind. Better than all priests and creeds Are the tones of Nature's voice — Softly saying—" In true deeds Best thy hopes, and then rejoice ! " Everywhere, in sky and sod, Love and Beauty hold their sway, Tolling of a Living God, And a never-ending day. 8 SPEING LONGINGS. AOME, gentle Spring ! o'er all the Eartli ^ Diffuse a radiant light ; Come with a song of jocnnd mirth, And make each eye beam bright. Breathe o'er the woodland, and the grove, And o'er the leafless tree ; Oh ! wake, with magic touch of love. All Nature's minstrelsy. Then snow-drop fair, and primrose pale, The foremost of thy train ; And violet sweet, that scents the gale Shall gem our Earth again ; And wood anemone, that makes The dusky woodlands bright. And May, that spreads o'er tangled brakes Her canopy of white. These, these shall come, with wild-birds trill. And hum of honey bee ; Sweet music from the sparkling rill, And balmy breezes free. Then come, dear Spring, no more delay — Come, banish dreary hours ! We long to hail thy natal day. And welcome in the flowers. 9 THE BROOK. LOVE a Brook J iu a flowery dell, With orchards and groves on ev'ry hand ; Its voice hath e'er a magical spell, Like the wave of an Enchanter's wand. I cA!> In sorrowful hours it comforts me, As the tones of genuine friends ; Where'er I am its pm-e melody To my soul great encouragement lends. 'Tis the voice of Natm'e, sweet and true ; A happy song that is always heard, Ever and ever, at aU times new. Like stirring strains of a joyous bird ; Yet an old, old voice, like Mother's song, When the little one sits on her knee. Ere the mind is stung by sense of wrong, And the heart from oppression is free. Sing on, dearest Brook, your merry lays. As thro' meadows and woodlands you go. Teaching us lessons of prayer and praise, , In the voice of your musical How. 10 FAIRY QUEEN. CLOUDY sky, bare^ flowerless earti. No singing bii'ds wherever I go. No gush of joj, nor of jocund mirth, In tree, or hedge, or in brooklet's flow. A troubled heart to my home I bring, I sit me down in my easy chair, I try my favourite song to sing, But I end it soon in blank despair. Oh ! see, a Sunbeam shines in the room, A Fairy enters, with magic wand, " Come, let there be light, and no more gloom," She seems to say, as she waves her hand. Crowing and laughing, now on my knee The Fairy sits — a monarch I ween — " Darkness and sorrow no more shall be In realms where I rule," says Fairy Queen. ! Peerless Babe, as radiant as May, Fairy that turneth darkness to light. Tender and true is thy gracious sway, Queen of my heart, by day and by night. 11 LEAD IN THE MAY. |10ME, ev'iy little one; ^ Up, aud away ! Haste ! — to the Woods begone, Lead in the May ! There, where the flow^•ets bloom, ^Neath spreading trees, Loading with sweet perfume Each passing breeze. Come, for the wild-bnds siag, ^Midst leafy spray. Making green coverts ring. Hailing the May. Sing with the birds and brooks. Tuneful aud strong, Seated in shady nooks. Fearing no wrong. Dance on the springing grass, Joyful and gay. Each lad with blooming lass — Leaid in the May ! 12 FRIENDSHIP. /PtAN you clasp one hand tliat's trusty, ^ In this world, where friends are few, Feel the pressure — warm and lusty — Knowing that the heart is true ? If you can, heed not the coldness Of the selfish and the proud ; You may walk the earth with boldness, Careless of the sordid crowd. Tearful eyes — how soon they brighten ! Cheerful smiles play round the lip ; Bruised spirits quickly lighten As one feels the friendly grip. Wealth you may have, without measure, Adulation without end ; But you^re poor, with all your treasure. If you have not one true friend. And as, now and then, friends vanish, Leaving memories behind ; May we never from us banish Any soul that's true and kind. 13 GOD IN NATURE. W RE there not deep tones in Nature ? ctJb Undertones — soft, sweet, and low ; Voices of the great Creator, Never ceasing in their flow ; Pulsing in each just emotion Of the human heart and brain ; Pealing, grandly, in the ocean, Gently whisp^ing in the rain ; Singing in the brooklet, laving Radiant flow'rs that near it bloom. Murmuring, in the green corn, waving In the di'eamy Summer noon ; Chanted by the rolling river, Sighing in the boughs of trees. Hymned in leaves that gently quiver In the blessed evening breeze ; Heard in voice of solemn thunder, As in tones in mystic grove- Lessons, wise, for each to ponder — Sermons, teaching " God is Love ! " 14 SHINE ON MY LOVE. ® HINE^ Summer SiiHj upon my love, ^ As shinest tliou on wood and grovO;, Light up her home with hope and joy^ Keep her sweet soul from all alloy. Sing, happy bird, thy song of love. As singest thou in wood and grove, Flood with pure melody her heart, Save her from Envy^s cruel dart. Bloom, winsome flow'rs, for my dear love. Fill with your odours wood and grove ; Oh ! let her hfe be pure and strong ; Joyous her path with light and song. Shine, silver Star, upon my love. As beamest thou on wood and grove ; Guide her in Truth's unerring ways. Fill all her life with happy days. Shine, tender Moon, upon my love. As shinest thou on wood and grove ; Mellow and calm as placid sleep ; E'er from her heart all sorrow keep. 15 TAKE COMFORT. H stricken heart, with care oppressed, Oh mind, with sorrow sore distressed, Gaze from the earth above ! No dark clouds ever could, for long, Obscure the sky, or mar the song. Of souls that wait on love. It seemed an age of damp and gloom Ere brightness did my eyes illume, !But sunshine came at last ; A gleam, a warmth, so faint at first. Soon on the nature full it burst, A glory of the past ! One morn, on waking from a sleep. With burthen\l heart, too full to weep, I felt the bliss of Spring ; And heard a voice, so sweet and low. Like balmy winds that gently blow. Or birds that sweetly sing. The voice, in loving accents, said — " Dear heart, with sorrow overlaid, " There^s joy for thee in store ; " Faith, patience, hope have their reward- " Thy path, that oft has been so hard, " Is bright for evermore ! " 16 THE STREMI BY THE SEA. Ij^CROM topmost cliff the streamlet flows, ^ Like silver thi'ead adown the side — Now ill the sunlight bright it glows,, Then mingles with the foaming tide. So fresh and joyous is its life, So heedless of the passing houi'S ; So calm, amid the Ocean^s strife, So sweetly warbling to the flow^'s. Its babbling melody of sound The httle children stop to hear. And mai'vel at its gladsome bound. As on it speeds, not knowing where. We envy you, ye streamlet fair, Yom' happy, bhthe, and cheery voice : You teach us never to despair — In cloud and sunshine to rejoice. Ah ! often when om* hearts arc faint With weary toil, endured by each, We'll come to you, without restraint. And learn the lessons that you teach. 17 THE OLD MYRTLE TREE. ?ypWAS in the mellow Autumn time, **!> When rnddy fruit was in its prime, The Myrtle bloomed with glossy hue ; Its fairy blossoms lit the gloom. And all around shed sweet perfume, As o'er the old folks' wall it grew. Years long have passed since first we met- A dear one then, a loved one yet. Close by the dear old Myrtle Tree ; And now, in Autumn's fading Hght, I see again the blossoms white. And ever bless their memory. THE HONEYSUCKLE. COMPANION meet for the Myrtle Tree ^ Was the Woodbine bloomina: so near — Twisting and twining its branches free O'er the porch of that cottage dear. In the ev'ning light of Summer days. When the birds to silence were hush'd. We sat and watch'd the sun's gold rays That with glory the bright sky flush'd. The peace and joy of those hours long past It is not in my mind to tell ; But oft o'er the heart they sweetly cast The power of then' magical spell. 18 THE HALLOWED DAY. U mBB Sabbath is a day of rest ! " ^ Most truGj dear friend^ witli care opprest You go to Cliurcli — I stay at home, Or worship ^neath the Sky^s blue dome. You are no bigot, that I know ; Yoxw Church is neither high nor low ; But human love your chosen part, Which makes a Sabbath of the heart. Those priests, who choose the hallowed day On which to groan, in bright array. Are not as Christ, who worshipp'd where The lilies bloom, in Mountain air. There, without rites of any kind. He taught men, with an ardent mind ; PreachM Truth, in sweet simplicity. Rebuking Scribe and Pharisee. There, with his Nature-loving soul — Not rob\l in surplice, alb, or stole — He stood, in Temple, high and broad. Blessing his Father and his God. Then we may sing our joyful lay. At home, in grove, on shore, or bay ; For Christ sang, ^midst the corn and flowers. Nor marr'd with gloom the Sabbath ]iours. 19 THE VOICE OF THE RIVER. AH, river, rolling to tlie sea, ^z \Vliat art thou saying unto me, As on thy banks I sit and dream. And cast smooth pebbles in the stream ? " In Spring time, when the world is fail', My youthful heart is free from care. My voice is clear, and fresh, and strong. Joyous I sing the whole day long. " My Summer notes are soft and low, As to the sea I slowly flow ; Sunlight glows on my bosom bright — A mirror chaste, reflecting light. " But dark days come, with wind and rain, I'm stained — I cry aloud with pain — Anon sweet peace returns once more ; I'm pure, as in bright days of yore. " When Winter comes my voice is hoarse — I hurry to the parent source ; From grief and pain I now am free. It shall be so eternally. ;; Oh, river, rolling to the sea. What is the truth thou teachest me ? " The stream of life runs calm and strong, If we do right, and hate the wrong." 20 FALSE WOBSHIP. MOW many gods there are, of earth and fikj, In slavish spirit of idolatry We worship^ deeply grovelling in the dirt^ Our instincts marring, to our souFs great hurt. We send across the sea our gold and men. To teach the heathen that they must not bend To stocks and stones — for " clearly 'tis not right. But wicked in the One God^s pure, clear sight." And yet, what false and sordid things there be In Britain^s isles, to which the ready knee Bows down, with eagerness and homage low, Proclaiming, as meet gods — " Success and Co. !" To numerous places goody folks repair, And pray for fetish worshippers — elsewhere : " Oh that the savages were like to us, "In everything that's sanctimonious !" A man, with light in brain, and loving heart, Of noble life, enacting a great part. Is naught to such — compared with wealth and lands. That come by work of other people's hands ! No "saints" more hard, or selfish, can be found Than canters, whose religion's but a sound ; Who boast of being " Sheep of tJie true fold \" Whilst their lov'd gods arc musty creeds and gold. 21 PRINCESS LOUISE IN EXETER. Mat 21st, 1873. pRINCESS, we lift om- hearts and liats to thee ^ In token of our loving loyalty ; Not to an idol of the passing hour Do we pay homage ; but to radiant flower Of noble Womanhood, that Britain's soil Has nourished, and that no alloy shall spoil : Nor rank, nor gold, nor flatt'ry of the crowd, Nor any fawning of the rich and proud. Go on thy simple, homely, English way Of Duty : teaching lessons to the gay And thoughtless, who in pride of worldly store Look coldly on the humble and the poor. And may thy Husband share each gracious plan In ways becoming true-born Nobleman. BLOSSOMS. BEAUTIFUL Blossoms, all rosy and white. Crowning the Earth with your glory and hght. Welcome, oh, welcome — yet ever again — Blooming in Sunshine so soon after rain ! Pass not away from us ; stay yet awhile ; Linger, oh, linger — the dark hours beguile ; So shall the glow of your radiance divine. Spread o'er om* sad hearts a blessing benign. Vision of Beauty how short is thy stay ! Coming and going, like night and the day ; Telling to all of the shortness of Life, Bidding us labour in Love and not Strife. 22 THE BIRD CONCERT. I. — Blackbird. HERE in the Woodland, each Summer day long, We weave, in cool shadow, our grateful song. For the great Love and Beauty are everywhere — In meadow, and upland, in sky, and air. Chorus of Birds. Let us sing, let us sing, with jocund glee, As wild birds should, that are tuneful and free, For the Spring is come, and Summer is nigh ; And, when they're gone, to the South we will fly. (In the distance) — Cuckoo, cuckoo. II. — Thrush. Why should we fear the rain, or the blast ? There's light 'neath each cloud, when the sky's o'ercast ; Then banish all sadness, envy, and hate. For birds that are wise will lovingly mate. Cuckoo, cuckoo. Chorus. — Let us sing, let us sing, &c. III. — Wood Pigeon. I wish I could pipe, like blackbird and thrush. As here, half-concealed, I sit in the bush ; 23 But when cuckoo sings '^ cuckoo," 1^11 sing "coo," And that's about all that either can do. Coo, Coo, Cuckoo. Chohus. — Let us sing, let us sing, &c, IV. — Woodpecker. I peck, I peck, but my music is poor. And yet on bii'd singing I set great store ; I'll join in the chorus, as best I may. And no bird shall tell me that I'm not gay. Coo, Coo, Cuckoo. Chorus. — Let us sing, let us sing, &c. V. — LrNNET. I trill a lay, in my silvery note. As I feel the Spring in my joyful throat ; I wish I could sing, with far greater pow'r. For I am so glad in my leafy bow'r. Coo, Coo, Cuckoo. Chorus. — Let us sing, let us sing, &c. VI. — Blackbird and Thrush. Let each birdy pipe, in his own best way, A stave in honour of beautiful May, And oft we will meet, 'mid Sunshine and flowers. To fill, with sweet song, the bright Summer hom'S. Coo, Coo, Cuckoo. Chorus. Let us sing, let us sing, with jociind glee, As wild birds should that are tuneful and free, For the Spring is come, and Summer is nigh, And, when they're gone, to the South we will fly. 24 SPRING FLOWERS. BRIGHT star of blue,* e'en tlu-ougli tlie snow appearing, The foremost gem of Flora's beauteous train — Kindling our hearts by memories endearing, As here in sunny spot you bloom again. And you, chaste snow-drop, with your fair form bending O'er the cold Earth that durst not mar your bloom ; What joy you bring to happy children wending Their homeward way, in sunlight and in gloom ! In sheltered nooks pale primrose now is peeping. To see how daisy frail endures the blast. E'er sister buds expand — their glad hearts leaping To feel that Spring has wakeu'd them at last. In shady nooks, by green leaves almost hidden. The fragrant violet lives, 'neatli verdant dome ; Like human worth she cometh not unbidden. But we may find her in her modest home. And daffodil, that dances without measure, In balmy breezes perfum'd with the flow'rs ; No tongue can say what pure, perennial pleasure She brings to sadden'd souls in darkened hours. All flowers, and birds, and joyful products vernal, We welcome you as guests we love to see ; Oh ! come, and linger long with hearts fraternal. And let us share your happiness and glee. * Periwinkle. 25 THE DYING GIRL AND THE SNOW- DROPS. EAR Brother, to the Orchard go, Where you and I so oft have been — There where the drooping Snow-drops grow In fairy rings upon the green. Thro' all the dreary wintry hours I've pray'd for balmy Spring to come. That I once more may see the fiow'rs Ere I depart for my long home. How much I've thought upon old times, When you and I so gaily trod Those dear green lanes, where grow the limes. That overspread the flow'r-deck'd sod. I feel I shall not live to see The violet, and the primrose fair ; But oh ! some snow-drops bring to me. And I will weave them in my hair. Meet emblems of our fi'agile life. To all this lesson they impart — " The time is short — then banish strife, " Let loving-kindness rule the heart !" *^u ^# kl> ^u *T* ^* ^^ ^p Ere the last snow- drop on the sod Had pass'd away from mortal sight. My Sister's soul was with her God, And round her head were snow-drops bright. 26 THE TOUCH OP SPRING. fOUCH witli the magic of tliy breathy dear Spring ! All Nature that has sighed for thee in vain ; Now from thy azure home bright blossoms bring. And deck the Earth with flow'rs and fruit again. Touch human hearts, that weep o'er bygone days, That mourn o'er friends who never can return. Bring back to them the glory of thy rays. And with thy vernal heat all sorrow burn. Seek flinty hearts, made hard by lust of wealth. And soften them by genial touch of thine ; Restore the happy glow of ruddy health. And on Life's thorny path with lustre shine. Touch moody bu'ds that haunt the copse and grove. Who long have borne the Winter's frost and snow ; Wake in their tuneful throats sweet lays of love, And brooks and streams with melody will flow. Ah ! thus a " ministering angel thou " To every waiting soul on earth and sea — To thee all hearts in homage true shall bow. And own thy wondrous power and mystery. 27 TEANSFIGURATION. % FAIR young Beecli, witli silver stem, *""* Stands straight and tall on yonder height, Bright dew- drops all the branches gem. Its faiiy form is bath'd in light. Transfigur'd, glorified with gold, A glowing triumph in decay — Lo, there it stands, erect and bold. As in the flow'ry month of May. No storm could bend its upright head. No change, but left it high and true ; And, though the leaves are well nigh dead. The Spring will soon its life renew. The law of Love, that rules the Earth, That changes every living tiling ; To human souls gives grief and mirth, And to the tree another ring. Learn, true heart, endm'ing pain. From Nature's lesson, stern, yet kind, That change is gro-\vth, immortal gain. The wisdom of Eternal mind. 28 MY FIRST PRIMROSE. THE wind, in eddies, swept the withered leaves, Some sparrows twitter'd ^neath the cottage eaves, A mist o'er valley, and o'er uplands spread. Still Hope my wandering footsteps onward led. I thought I heard a soft, sweet voice, like Spring, In loving accents say — " Soon, soon I'll bring The joys you look for ; woodlands bright with flow'rs. And thrilhng song of birds, and leafy bow'rs }) Ah ! then, with eager eyes, I sought to trace In hedge rows, bare, a well-remembered face. One that has oft been sung in storied rhyme. One dearly -loved in childhood's sunny time. Ere my lone heart, with disappointment, sank, Lo ! I espied upon a fav'rite bank A yellow primrose, beautiful and bright — Athwart the gloom it cast a cheerful light. " My heart leap'd up," as did the Poet's, when Far from the busy hives of toiling men. He saw the rainbow in the sky above, And greeted it with grateful strains of love. And so I hail'd, with joy, this promise fair Of brighter days to come, and balmier air. And said — '^ This let us ever keep in mind : Hope and despair not — seek, and ye shall find." 29 AN APRIL SONa. £i OME April, comej with tliy smiles and thy tears, ^ Banish our sadness, dispel all our fears ; Life, like to thee, has its joys and its woes — Clouds, through the rifts of which silver light flows. Bring buds and blossoms that make fail* the bowers. Deck fields and woodlands with odorous flow^^s ; Leaven each heart, as the air, with thy balm ; Breathe, and distraction shall melt into calm. Stir in the trees, and the leaves shall expand — Call forth the music of Nature^s own band- Birds in the green boughs and bees on the wing — So shall the Earth with glad melody ring. Come April, come, with thy smiles and thy tears. Banish our sadness, dispel all our fears ; Life, like to thee, has its joys and its woes — Clouds, through the rifts of which silver light flows. 30 WEITTEN AT SIDMOUTH. (After Keats.) HEEB all the Summer I could stay, For there's a Peak Hill, And a High Peak Hill, And a ford at the clear Sid's head ; Where, close by the stream, You may have some cream. All spread upon wheaten bread. There's Ladrum Bay Not far away, — All lav'd by the silver sea, Where the fishers come. And rest, as at home. Ere they sail on the ocean free. There's Harpf ord Wood ; Oh! that I could 'Neath its trees rest all day long. Where the golden broom Dusky brakes illume. And wild-birds warble their song. There's Mutter Moor, All breezy and poor — With a pleasant summer level, Where the maidens sweet Of Sidmouth street Oft meet in the eve to revel. 01 There's Bulverton Hillj Not far from a rill^ Witli sedge for tlie lark to hide in j And the hollow tree For the buzzing bee. And banks for the wasp to hive in. And 0, and 0, The wild flowers blow, And hedge-rows glow with their beaming ; And the violets white Sit in silver light, And the fountain's spray is gleaming. Then who would go To city's row. And chatter with worldly critics, AVhen he can stay For the new-mown hay. And watch the boys at their wickets ? 32 A WISH. (Expressed on seeing what was called a " Grand Funeral.") 'HEN in the grave you lay me, no pall place on the bier, Nor any mourning symbol, save silent, loving tear : Vex not the soul with show of ceremonious grief, Or mumbled prayer, or creed ; but let the word be brief. Lay flowers upon the tomb; sing praises, if you can ; For Death is as a Sleep to every thinking man ; Few priestly voices are attuned to voice of God J True friendship's heartfelt tones fall fitly on the sod. IN MEMORIAM. LL that is mortal of a much-loved friend We this day lay beneath the verdant sod ; In faith and trust that this is not his end. But that his Home is with his Father — God. We mourn for him, in silence and in tears. We miss his well-known form and genial face, But of his destiny we have no fears. He lives for ever in a heavenly place. Farewell we say, tho' for a little while ; The earth, if fair, is not the final goal : Some other sphere, where angel faces smile. The Haven is of every gracious soul. 33 WHAT SHALL WE LIVE FOR? LIVE for yourself, the brazen image said — Pile up the wealth — a stalking horse make trade ; Then will arise the shining heaps of gold, Why trouble if the heart grows hard and cold ? For pleasure live, the syi'en cried aloud — Display fine raiment, simper 'mid the crowd. Impulse obey — wait not for reason's voice — In eveiy gilded sham rejoice, rejoice ! " No, no, the true heart cries — " I will be free From wordly glitter, hollow falsity ; The sacred path of Truth I'll nobiy go — From this alone real Happiness can flow." SORROW AND CONSOLATION. N bright and breezy weather, I sit amidst the heather. Upon the mountain side ; My heart is beating sadly. The birds are singing gladly — My grief I cannot hide. Why tears, where reign such beauty ? Joy clearly is a duty. And melody the strain. Friends say — " Grieve not for ever. For that which you can never Bring back to Earth again." I rise, and all my sadness Is turned to peace and gladness, — Friends' love has touch'd my heart ; The star of Hope shines brightly. My steps move free and lightly — In life I'll bear my part. 34 GRANDMOTHER'S LAST WORDS. M.S., Aged 81. Y dears, she said, I'm going home, ctoxcA!) Home to another sphere; Beyond the bkie sky's starry dome — But why that silent tear ? Why are you sad, when I am bright, And hopeful as in youth ; The bhss above is fuller light ; The sweet reward of Truth. I've lived to eighty years, and more. And seen full much of life ; On Earthly joys I set great store, Tho' there be clouds and strife. But now, she said, I'm going Home — Without a dread or fear. O'er fairer fields wc all shall roam, Where never glistens tear. 35 TEARFUL. 'HY those tears of silent sorrow ? Why that troubl'd painful start ? Soon shall dawn the bright to-morrow. Love shall heal your wounded heart. Yes, the world is cold and sordid, Bitter are its words and deeds, But your mind must ne'er be morbid— Eoot up ev'ry hurtful weed. Friends will always round you cluster If they know youVe treasured gold. Little gifts obtain great lustre When from rich man's bounty doled. " You are poor," you say, " forsaken. Riches quickly fled away, No one's love you now awaken. False ones lure you to betray." But there's One, who knows the measm'o Of each deed that's done on earth ; Heaps of untold, golden treasure In His eyes are nothing worth. Comfort to each suff'ring mortal He vouchsafes, and guiding light ; Opes to all the heavenly portal If their deeds arc pure and right. Dry those tears of silent sorrow — You have had your better part — Brightly, brightly dawns the morrow — Rest your head upon my heart. 36 THE EESUERECTION AND THE LIFE. "Changes of glorious light from moving boughs, songs of birds, scents from gardens, woods, and fields — or rather from the one great garden of the whole culti- vated island in its yielding time — penetrate into the Cathedral, subdue its earthy odour, and preach the Eesurrection and the Life." — Last words of the last ommher of the ^^ Mystery of Edtvin Brood" by Charles Dickens. <^ING, happy bird, your joyful lay ^ From budding bough and shooting spray ; With music sweet lead in the May. In grove and woodland, erst so bare, No glad sounds charmed the vnntry air — The brooding earth seemed ^prest with care. But now old Winter^s reign is o^er, Dear Spring appears with gen^'ous store Of joy and beauty at om' door. Out from the gloom of silent night The Ruling Will evolves the Light, And turneth dark things into bright. E'en from the grave Hope springs anew, Sad hearts to gladden and renew. And in our path lov'd flowers to strew. Oh, Earth ! with changes ever rife. Thou teachest, 'mid much pain and strife. The Resurrection and the Life ! 37 A SPRING LYRIC. THE Spring's bright flow'rs and blossoms fair Shed fragrance on the vernal air — Adorn the vales, and deck the hills, And with great joy man's spirit fills. In Beauty's robes new life appears, Heaven-sent, to dry all human tears ; Fair Nature mirrors in each scroll The grandeur of the Living Soul. The woodland wild and stately grove Breathe accents sweet of grateful love ; All earth is stirr'd by happy sounds. Glad music ev'rywhere abounds. Ascetic priests may groan away The precious hours of radiant May j But Spring's fresh symbols, ever bright. Declare that God dwells in the light. Not in a page, or book alone. Is our great Father's glory shown : In everything that he has made — In rolling worlds, in leaf and blade. 38 THE FALSE AND THE TRUE. ABEL'S eyes are dark and bright, Yet they gleam with treacherous light ; Well she knows their pow'r on you. Friend, beware ! she is not true. Mabel moves with peerless grace. Smiles of triumph on her face ; She can sing — " divinely waltz," Ten to one she'll play you false. Mabel's beauty oft is sung, Praised by Fashion's flippant tongue, But her heart is proud and cold. And she seeks not love, but gold. Mabel, 'mid yon fawning host, E-eigns supreme — her dearest boast ; But when beauty fades away Not one " friend" will with her stay. Mary's eyes are soft and clear, Oft bedimm'd with silent tear ; In those depths of lustrous blue You can read the heart is true. Mary moves with modest grace. Truth and love beam from her face ; Scarcely heeded by the tlu'ong, Never praised by giddy tongue. But in sorrow's darkest hour She will balm of comfort pour ; When she speaks, her low, sweet voice Makes the drooping heart rejoice. Mary courts no fiatt'ring host, Heeds not Mabel's empty boast ; She will friends have all her life- She shall bo my loving wife. 39 WILT THOU WANDER, LOVE, WITH ME ? SPRING has come, her joys revealing, ^ Flowers are blooming on the lea, Lo ! the far off bells are pealing. Wilt thou wander, love, with me ? See, the ripening corn is waving, Rippling like the placid sea. Now is love my bosom laving. Wilt thou wander, love, with me ? " Yes, 1^11 go, where birds are trilling Their sweet songs, so dear to me. All my soul with bright thoughts filling. And my heart with love for thee." ^ ^ ^ :}J :Jc But thy face no more is blooming, God I know has sent for thee ; Sadness now my heart is glooming, Never more thou^lt walk with me. " Yes, in heav'n, with angels guiding Tln'o^ the shiug courts above. There we^ll stray — no bright hours gliding. In yon Paradise of Love." ***** When the sheaves of corn were golden, "Harvest home " sung o'er the lea. Angels came, vvith wings cnfolden. Bore away my Love from me. 40 MEN OF DEVON! UP, BE DOING. [A Stave for the Volunteers ; written when an invasion of England was tlireatened.] MEN of Devon ! up, be doing, Form yourselves in trusty bands ; Miscliief^s o'er the water brewing, Clouds liang o'er your peaceful lands. England's sons are bravely arming, Getting ready for tlie foe ; Heeding notes of timely warning, Ere tlie foeman strikes the blow. Come ! your Eifles now get ready. Get the cartridge and the ball : Let not sneers deter — but steady To your duty — " one and all ! " Emulate the martial spirit Of your sires, in days of old : Let the story of then* merit Rouse ye now to deeds as bold. Homes and hearts are with your keeping Free fi'om foeman's ruthless tread — Eyes must ne'er be dimm'd by weeping O'er our freedom^ lost and dead. Guard them, then, from hostile legions. Eager to possess your soil. Hordes of men, of diif 'rent regions. Greedy for a Nation's spoil. Men of Devon ! up, be doing. Form yourselves in trusty bands ; Thus defeat the miscliief brewing — Frustrate all the foeman's plans. 41 THE HAZEL TREE. THE nuts in clusters hang, dear love, Upon the hazel tree ; We'll wander down to yonder grove And gather them with glee. 'Twas in that grove our vows were made, As, 'neath a Summer's sky. We sat together in the shade. In happy days gone by. 'Twas there, amid the fragrant tlow'rs That on the green banks grew. We wiled away the laughing hours Which time will ne'er renew. Oh ! happy days of love and song. How soon ye fade away ! Such days for years we would prolong, But no, ye will not stay. Since then our lives have chequer'd been, Dark clouds have hover'd near ; But through the rifts the sun we've seen, And now the sky is clear. The Autumn of our age has come. But mellow is the fi'uit. For now are heard, to cheer om' home. Sounds sweet as lover's lute. The nuts in clusters hang, dear love, Upon the hazel tree, We'll wander down to yonder grove And gather them with glee. 42 AN OLD RUSTIC^S "COOETING" STORY. 'WFAN eve as I wos walking across tiie "•^ meadow grass, Who sliude I zee bit Polly, my bonny little lass ; I zed to her: "My dearest/tis time vor we to wed," " Don^t tliink o'that," she said, " for you^ll wish that you were dedd.''^ Lor how my heart wint pit-pat ; my flickers got so red, Vor then I naw'd how true 'twas wot Varmer Jan had zed; I wint ta Chirch nex Sinday, moast crueel bad I veeFd, My legs zemM dreadful shaky, as down in prayer I kneel\l. And wen the banns wos kallcd 'tween Poll and Robin Stark, My ivers how tha bright zin, and all the world, graw'd dark ; I nivver thort, I'm sure, I could possibly zurvive. But heer I am, you zee, zir, still, at scexty yccrs — alive. 43 ON CAWSAND BEACON. J) OLLING o'er the purple lieather, ^ In tlie glorious Summer weather, Staining lips with whortleberries, Sweet as any figs or cherries ; Sipping from the crystal stream, Lying on its banks to dream. Watching sky larks soar above Singing, with them, strains of love ; Gazing o'er yon bouncQess plain, List'ning to the sweet refi'ain Of the rivulets and rills As they flow by distant hills ; Hearing voices, strange and low. Mystic tones that come and go. Seeing tors salute each other. Every one a fi-iend and brother. '^=^^^^^^^^=^ 44 THE WOOD ANEMONE. O-WEET flow'r that in the woodland grows, W) Where birds on leafy branches sing, I find thee, where the streamlet flows, And greet thee — fairest child of Spring. A pensile flower, of purest white. The -svind unkindly bends thee low, Yet from thy form a gentle light Seems in the woodland dark to glow. Like other flowers, of dearest form. That live among us for a day. Thou cans^t not brave the wild, bleak storm, And soon thou^lt pass from earth away. COMING SPRING. U T OOK out my darling," the old man cried, XC To his grandchild, sitting by his side ; " I^m trying so much to feel and know That the Earth is rid of frost and snow." " Snow-drop is here !" the young gu-l said ; " Crocus is lifting her golden head : Listen, and hear the sweet birds sing. Oh ! these are signs of the coming Spring." The old man rose from his easy chair. And totter''d out to his garden fair ; With innocent rapture of delight He gaz^d on the blessed vernal sight. "No more," he said, '^will I doubt my Clod, Nor bury my faith beneath the sod ; ' Hope always \' shall be my motto bright — For 'out of darkness He bringeth light !^ " 45 AUTUMNAL MUSINGS. )IAR from the noise of human life, Far from its evils, ever rife, I wander on and on ; By brooklet's pleasant flow I stray, And hear a sweet voice softly say. The Summer nigh is gone !" (( True, true, sweet voice, but know you not- You never have, I'm sure, forgot — That Autumn's mellowing time Is coming on for you and me. When hearts shall beat with joy to see Earth's fruits glow in their prime ? Look to the golden grain that waves In valleys, which yon streamlet laves, And see the flow'rs so fair : Heaven's rich reward for toil is here. The sadden'd heart once more to cheer^ What need then of despair ? With hope and joy the soul is fiU'd, All strife and envy now are still'd In Nature's presence bright : Pure thoughts and resolutions high Spring up, like incense to the sky, And fill the mind with light. 46 THE OLD ROUND TABLE. DEARLY love the old round table, Its shining face is dear to me — How oft Vve read some pleasant fable Under its ample canopy. All round and round I've chased in play A brother, sister, friends, most dear. And sung, in childhood^s merriest way. The lays that used our hearts to cheer. All round, dear faces then were glowing. And eyes that beamed with gentle light. Each unto each their pure love showing — Such love as makes the dark world bright. All ! many a year since then has fled. And hearts that once beat warm are cold, The grave has clos'd o^er many a head That I loved dearer far than gold. Still, still, I love the dear old table. Its shining face delighteth me. Though others now the pleasant fable Read 'ncath its spreading canopy. 47 PAST AND PRESENT. H ! wliat a happy Christmas time Was that long, long ago, When voices dear, in merry chime, Sung in the cottage low. Dear heads of grey — cheeks full of bloom Commingled — all so gay — No jarring chord, nor brow of gloom. Ere marr'd that happy day. The world was cold as winter's dawn, And we had felt it more Since prosperous times had come and gone. And " friends " had shunn'd our door. But we were happy in our love — The parent and the cliild — And sunshine gleam' d from Heaven above. And warmly on us smil'd. When merry Christmas, as of yore. Comes back with ruddy glow. Will it the joys that's past restore And loving smiles bestow ? Ah ! there arc rosy, smmy faces. So happy and so fan-, But who can fill the vacant places— The old folks dear arm-chair ? 48 SONG OF " THE POOR RELATION." 'E live in a cottage, and eat humble fare ; But weVe liealth, and weVe strength, and we've prime fresh air — WeVe troubles and sorrows, " soce," like unto all, And joys, too, which Chi'istmas times always recall. We go in the morn to our work in the fields ; We see with delight the great bounty Earth yields ; At eve we return, and our dear ones we hug. And drink our fiiends' health fi'om the brown cider mug. We envy not riches, nor rich folks their show. Though sometimes we think they too rapidly grow — A leetle bit more of their goods for the poor ! Would the loss, think you, ever be missed from then* store ? We live very humbly, and eat humble fare, But weVe health, and weVe strength, and weVc prime fi'esh air ; We've troubles and sorrows, " soce," like unto all. And joys, too, which Chi-istmas times always recall. 49 MEERY CHRISTMAS. IRDS no more in trees are singing, Hid among the shining leaves ; Winter winds are wildly ringing, All about the cottage eaves. Snug we sit in ingle cosy, Watching "faces in the fire" — And, whilst youthful cheeks grow rosy, Breaks the music of the choir. Through the night are heard their voices. Lifted high in tones of praise ; And each time-worn heart rejoices, With the thoughts of bygone days. Christmas always brought its pleasure In those days when we were young ; Then each moment was a treasure. Then, ah ! then, our hearts were strong. Let us stUl be glad and jolly, As each festive time appears. Dancing, kissing ^neath the holly. Banishing all clouds and tears. 50 CHRISTMAS HOME THOUGHTS. LD Christmas once again has come ; And, sitting by the fire, I feel at peace, as in my home I hear the Minstrel's lyre. I list to voices, glad and free. Sweet sounds to me most dear — Old strains of tender melody That come from far and near. Dear children's voices ; bells that tell To ov'ry wand'ring breeze The joy that makes the pure heart swell With gratitude and praise. And thus I sit here, conning o'er The lessons of the Past — " All ! what for me is held in store : Will peace and pleasure last ?" No matter. Let me take, with joy, What now to me is given. Bright happiness, without alloy. The bliss sent down from Heaven. 51 I ne^er forget -what once has been : The lov'd ones I have miss'd : The joyous faces I have seen : The lips that I have kiss'd. And, though no more will they appear At Christmas — here below — They live within my mem'ry clear. They set my heart aglow. I see their faces in the fire, So tranquil, calm, and bright ; And this I read is their desire— "You should rejoice this night \" "We keep our Christmas far away, In regions fair and high ; But we will join thee in the lay — ' True love shall never die/ " 52 SATAFS VISIT TO NOETH LEW. As Told by ma Gkanpek. 3WHE devil he cum to our parish wan day_, ^ But he zed he didden intend vor to stay ; He was ffwain on varther to vetch a vat Prior The layder of Tavistock^s vair Abbey quire, Who^d a been a behavin as no Prior shude do. And he^d vix'd to make awn a vine brimstone stew. Now Granf er and Varmer Jan Hk'd the old chap, Vor heM offen cum^d up pin tap of yon " nap " Tu ha a "leet" chat, and tu drink zider cup, And arterwards go wi' em hoam vor tu sup. So Granfer and Varmer Jan zed in a trice — " No, be darned if old Nick shal ha Jolly Price \" Vor thit wos es nam bevor he wos priest — Tha zin of a rich squire, nit proud in tha least. Zothey whisper'd tugether, and then zed to Nick : " Plaize yer Hi^ness the rawds be mortally thick Wy mud up to ankles, and there^s bogs on tha way, Zo with us yu had better a leetle wliile stay." T ho Devil he did zo, till the vrost ded zet in, An wan mornin he zed he wid start wi^ the zin ; Old Granfer laff^d inwards, and zo ded old Jan, And they zed wen they paerted : " Good bye thee doomM man ! " The devil rawd on, and bamby cum a shout ; The vrost strook liis tail, and ha died lik a lout. 53 SIMON THORN.* LD Simon Thorn was a Devonian, bred and born, And worked in liis master's fields all day from early morn ; A real good man was Simon, truthful in deed and word. And, through Life's many sorrows, as blithesome as a bird. My lot in this world, he said, I ne'er consider hard, Tor I've love of wife and child, and master's warm regard ; He treats me not, as some do, like hack or pig or dog, But as a man, with heart and head — not as stone or log. A cottage snug I have, and a pleasant garden plot — You may travel far and wide ere you find a fairer spot; The seasons come and go, and I bless them ev'ry one. Welcoming each, yet sorry when cither's com'se is run. * The writer of these lines is quite aware that Simon Tlioms are nob numerous iii Devonshire ; but he has met with one such in Lis life-time. 54 ^Tis bliss to see the first young lamb sporting on the green^ Ere yet in hedge-rows bare, pale primroses are seen ; My jo}d:ul heart beats fast when the bee is on the wing — And I hear the merry thi'ushaud piping black- bird sing. When Spring ripens into Summer^ and brightest flow'rs bloom, When the sky is deepest blue, and earth lies not in gloom, I feel Heaven is not far off — that God is very near — And in my heart njDspringeth pure joy, un- mixed with fear. When Autumn brings her full store of fruit and golden grain. With gratitude I list to the sickle and the wain — And song of meriy harvesters, binding up the sheaves. Ere the grand old trees have shed their many- tinted leaves. fi 5 And ill tlie liusli of Evening; when birds are singing lays, I sit beneath my cottage eaves, and think of other days ; And read the Holy Bible — the Sermon on the Mount — Which seems as clear as water from any crystal fount. I care not much for churches, or sermons by the priest. For they confuse me often — Christ's Sermon not the least — At night I say the Lord's Prayer, the best that e'er was said. And dread the darkest grave, sir, as little as my bed. 56 MY PURTY JANE. T was down by the river I first met my purty Jaue^ Upon a Zmiimer evening, wlien the Zin wes on the wane. Her little veet they twinkled, as she tripp^l aur meadows bright, And my heart it whispcrVl zof'tly " Giles, dids^t ivver zee sich zight ? " No, nivver in my born days did I soeagirlso vair. She made my heart go pit-pat, and she riz on end my hair, And I ax^d her for to com back, but she couldn^ then, she said. And on she flew like lightning across the level maid (mead). I heerd the birds a-zingiiig, as I com\l up droo the lane. And I thort they zed " Giles, Giles, thee shalt ha thy purty Jane.^^ Ah ! ^twas music sweeter far than IM iwer heerd bevore. It often gied ma comfort, digging pait upon the Moor. 57 One Zummer Zinday morning, when the bells was ringing sweet, I met my love a coming up old Chagford's plissent street ; I tuk courage tlieer and thin, and I up and told my love, And she zaid " Dear Giles, I'll have ee," and she zeem'd jest like a dove. But she niwer liv'd to do it, for she pined away and died Jest on the day she zed she'd be my bonny little bride ; Now often when I'm walking down in yander meadows bright, I zee her right bevore me — like a hangel in the light ; And I hear her sweet voice zaying — " Giles, Giles, be not afraid. Thee shall zee, in heavenly places, thy loving little maid/' Aw ! 'tis that which gies me paicc as I walk in vield and lane — For if I live a true life I shall zee my purty Jane. 58 THE OLD MAN'S SONG. T was seexty years an moarj wen fust I met my Grace^ Among lier veyther's apples, tliit sliined jest like her vace : We coortid veefteen yeers — aw ! it wos a 'appy time. And then it was we wedded, vor boath wos in their prime. We wos mauried in tliik Chirch, upon a Znmmer day, Wen all tlia birds wos fsinging, and everything wos gay. There wos veyther there, an mauther ; likewise my Uncle Ben, Aunt Jane, and Cousin Filley, and Bob and Betty Venn. A kruocl lot of youngsters, vrom nil tha country neer. Brought down all zorts of things, our appy hearts to cheer. And wen tha ring wos oii, and tha Clark had zed Amen, Who dee think fust jump'd forard ? Why, rough old Uncle Ben ! 59 And lie kissM Grace raytlior smaert — I clidden much mind 'ee. But 'twasn't quite so proper in young varmor Willy um Lee. I kept ma veelins down^ wich wos rising purty fast_, I zed — " Dear Grace, I hop that that^llbethalast." She squeezed ma arm, and main'd twid be ; I also ded tha same ; And then we went to dinner, and artorwards tha game We had — -'twas winderful — right droo the night and morn — Sich rigs wos nivver zeed zince Grace and I wos born. We liv^d lik turtle doves all droo many 'appy yecrs, And rear'd up thirteen children — of kuse they brought their keers ; But then they've turn'd out well^ and all are good to me, As their mauthcr on her death-bed charg'd them vor to be. For wen the birds wos singing, as on our wedding day. Jest lik a little infant she calmly pass'd away ; And zomotimes wen I come hcer there braythcs all 'bout tha place Sich blessed mem'i'ies of hur — I zeem to zee hur vace. And clasp hur hand, and heer hm* voice a zayiug unto me " Cheer up, dear Jeames, be not cast down, thee zoon shall com to me." 60 EVENING. /GENTLY fall the Evening sliado^vs ^ O'er the hills and o'er the plains ; Cattle slumber in the meadows^ Hush'd are now the A\^ld birds' strains. Whisp'ring leaves in light winds qniver. Moonbeams flush the silent grove^ Stars gleam on the brimming river^ Earth is wrapp'd in folds of love. On our hearts sweet Peace is falling Softly, like the shades of night. And to each a voice is callino^ " Be thou fnithfnl to the right." Have we, in the day just going, Breath'd pure thoughts and purpose high, Used the hours, now past us flowing, AVisely, ere the night draws nigh ? Lord, we pray, give to the weary Placid rest, refreshing sleep. Solace to the heart that's dreary, Heahug balm to those wlio woop. ANCIENT SUPERSTITIONS, CUSTOMS, AND CEREMONIES. GOOD FRIDAY. RAMBLE on Good Friday in country lanes and villages and what I saw and heard there suggested reminiscences of certain old Devonshire customs and superstitions^ several of which are observed and believed in even to the present day in this our merrie shire. Within sound of sonorous church bells I observed many labourers at work in their gardens. Why should tilling the srround on Good Fridav be such a favourite and general pursuit ? Because the belief is common among rural folk that everything put into the earthy especially peas, on that day, will be sure " to grow goocLy," and produce bountiful crops. Washing clothes, however, must be studiously avoided, for wherever this is done one of the family will, it is said, assuredly die before the year is out ! To wean children is deemed very lucky. There is a curious legend about Good Friday current in some parts of Devonshire. It is said that one day a young girl was remonstrating mth a shoemaker, for some reason or other, when he desired her not to be too hard on him, " for " (he added) " we shoemakers havo been a poor slobbering race ever since the curse of Jesus upon us.''^ Asked the meaning of this, he further said that when the Jews were carrying Christ to tho cross they passed a shoemaker's bench, and that Crispin spat upon Jesus, whereupon he said, '' A poor slobbering fellow shalt thou be, and all shoemakers after thee, for what thou hast done to me.^' The rector of a certain Devonshire parish, about fourteen miles from Exeter, was startled one day by this enquiry fi'om a Sunday School Scholar, '' Please sir, why do people break dome (crockery) on Good Friday ? " The question was rather puzzling to the rector, but he was a good deal struck by hearing afterwards that it is the custom in tho island of Corfu for the inhabitants on that day to fling potsherds down a steep rock, uitcriug imprecations on tho traitor Judas. 64 EASTER EVE AND ^^ LENT CROCKING." %^ASTER lias its peculiar customs and festivities. J&. On Easter Eve Devonshire lasses were wont to appear in tlieii^ bran new clothes. LikoAvise, gallant young rustics sent new gloves to their sweethearts — by no means a bad custom. An old distich ran thus : — Good morrow, Valentine, I go to-day To wear for you what you must pay, A pair of gloves next Easter-day. The lasses used to get up on Easter morning to see the sunrise ; and of course the lads did the same. Billing and cooing^ however^ is not indulged in quite so early in the day in modern, as it appears to have been in ancient, times. " Lent crocking/' or " pancake tossing," is not practised now, as in days of yore. On Shrove Tuesday every member of a farmer's family would assemble round the fire, and toss a cake from the frying pan, up- wards, and catch it again. If it descended whole and sound, good ; if it missed the pan and fell into the fire the unlucky tosser had to eat what of the charred morsel was rescued. " Lent crocking " was by no means bad fun. Parties of youngsters were in the habit during Lent of paying visits to neighbouring farm-houses, outside which they sang the following ditty : — I see by the latch, There is something to catch ; I see by the string The good dame's within ; Give a cake, for I've none ; Or at the door goes a stone, Oome give, and I'm gone. '' If invited in (says Mrs. Bray) a cake, a cup of cider, and a health followed. If not invited in, the sport consisted in battering the house door with stones because not open to hospitality. The assailant would run away, be followed and caught, bi^ought back again as prisoner, and made to undergo the punishment of roasting the shoo. This consisted in an old shoe being 65 Imng up before tlio fire, wliicli the culprit was obliged to keep in a constant whirls roasting himself as well as the shoe, till some damsel took compassion on him, and let him go ; in this case he was to treat her with a little present at the next fair/^ - MIDSUMMER AND '^WASSAILING/' MIDSUMMER likewise had its customs. If a young lady plucked a full-blown rose on Midsummer- day, blind-folded, while the chimes were playing twelve, and folded it up in a sheet of white paper, and did not open it until Christmas-day, it would then be found as fresh as when gathered ; and if she placed it in her bosom the young man to whom she was to be married would come and snatch it away. At Buckland-in-the- Moor an extraordinary custom once prevailed. A large number of people assembled in a field, in the middle of which stood a large granite block. The young men ranged the Moor in search of a sheep, which when found they brought to the stone, and there killed it with their knives. They then sprinkled themselves and others with the blood. The day concluded with games of various kinds. The significance of the ceremony I am unable to discover, but it is said to be a superstitious sacrifice of Celtic origin. The custom of " wassailing " prevailed in Devonshire years ago, and is not extinct now in some places. The late Sir Thomas Acland related to Mr. Brand that, in his neighbourhood on Christmas-eve, it was the custom for the country people to sing a wassail or drinking- song, and throw the toast from the wassail bowl to the apple trees in order to have a fruitful year. Herrick says : — Wassaile the trees, that they may beare You many a phim, aiul many a pearo ; For more or lesse fruits they -will briu^, And you do give them wassailing. In other parts the ceremony was held on the Eve of the 66 Bpipliany^ or Twolftli Niglit. Tlio farmer, attended hj his workmen, would go to the orchard in the evening, bearing in his hand a large pitcher, filled with cider. Encirchng one of the best bearing trees the whole company joined in drinking the following toast three times : — Here's to tliee, old apple tree, Hence thou may'st bud, and whence thou may'st blow, And whence thou may'st bear apples enow ! Hats fuU ! caps full ! Bushel-bushel-sacks full. And my jjockets full too ! Huzza ! This done (says Hone in his " Every Day Book '') they retm-ned to the house, the doors of which they were sure to find bolted by the females, who, be the weather what it might, were inexorable to all entreaties to open them until some one had guessed at what was on the spit, which was generally some nice little thing, difficult to be hit on, and was the reward of him who first named it. The doors were then thrown open, and the lucky clodhopper received the tit -bit as his recompense. Some were so superstitious as to believe that, if they neglected this custom, the trees would bear no apples that year. Another method of wassailing adopted in Devonshire was the following : — The farmer and his men would go after supper into an orchard, with a large milk pan full of cider, having roasted apples pressed into it. Out of this each person in company took what was called a clayen cup, that is an earthenware cup full of liquor ; and, standi ug under each of the more finiitful applctrees, passing by those that were not good bearers, ho ad- dressed it in the following words : — Health to thee, thou good apple tree ; Well to bear, pockets full, hats fuU, Pecks fuU, bushel-bags fuU. And then, drinking off part of the contents, he threw the rest with the fragments of roasted apples at the tree. G7 DAYS OF THE WEEK AND MAY DAY. ^^ANY superstitions prevailed in tlio old county in l\cE respect to tlie days of the week. To begin any project, to take a journey, or to make a bargain on Friday, was to incur bad luck. The fortunes of children were said to be affected by the day on which they were born. For example : — Monday's child is fair in face , Tuesday's child is full of grace, Wednesday's child is full of woe, Thi;rsday's child has far to go. Friday's child is loving and giving', Saturday's child works hard for its living ; And a child that is bom on Christmas day Is fair and wise and good and gay. The twenty-ninth of May was honoured by a poetical custom, which hath pleasant memories. Children in the rural districts were wont to make garlands of flowers — two hoops, crossed, and entwined with " sweet May flowers,^^ and interlaced with buxls eggs of various kinds, that of the favourite " robin redbreast" excepted. Suspended on long poles, these garlands, or coronals, were shown at the houses of the villagers who made presents to the juvenile exhibitors. Hone in his " Every Day Book " says :— " At Tiverton, on the 29th of May, it is customary for a number of young men, dressed in the style of the 18th century, and armed with swords, to parade the streets, and gather con- tributions from the inhabitants. At the head of the procession walks a man, called " Oliver," dressed in black, with his face and hands smeared over with soot and grease, and his body bound by a strong cord, the end of which is held by one of the men to prevent his running too far. After these come another troop, dressed in the same style, each man bearing- a largo branch of oak ; four others, carrying a kind of throne made of oaken bou<>-hs on which a child is seated, brinu' up the rear. A great deal of merriment is excited among the boys, at the pranks of master " Oliver, d 68 wlio capers about in a most ludicrous manner. Some of tliem amuse themselves by casting dirt^ whilst others, more miscliievously inclined, throw stones at him; but woe betide the young urchin who is caught ; his face assumes a most awful appearance from the soot and grease with which ''Oliver^' begrimes it, whilst his companions, who have been lucky enough to escape his clutches, testify then* pleasure by loud shouts and acclamations. In the evening the whole party have a feast, the expenses of which are defrayed by the collection made in the morning." DISEASES AND THE DEVIL. THE cure of diseases was attempted in curious empirical ways. For instance, at Thrushelton, an old lady was possessed of a bluish green stone, called the " Kenning Stone,'^ much used by people troubled with sore eyes, the affected organs needing but to be rubbed with the talisman. In Druidical times, people it is said would creep under the Tolmens to be cured of disorders. This, probably, was the origin of a similar and more modern custom. Mrs. Bray gives the follow- ing letter, in her interesting work, as addressed to her husband, a clergyman of Tavistock : — Rev. Sir, — I should take it as a great favour if your Honour would be good enough to let me have the key of the church- yard to-night, to go in at twelve o^clock to cut off" three bits of lead about the size of a half -farthing ; each from three different shuts (meaning spouts) for the cure of fits. — Sir, I remain, your humbled obedient servant, (signed) J. M., Tavistock, Feb. 2nd, 1838.'' A very nasty remedy was that adopted for the cure of tooth- ache : " Take an old scull from a churchyard, bite a tooth out of it, and keejD it in your pocket all the year round, and never more will you have pain in your teeth or gums." A l^etter one for curing the thrush is this : " Head the eighth psalm over the infant so afflicted 69 three times, tliree days in tlie week for tliree following days/^ and the result will be perfect convalescence ! Mr. Baring" Gould, in his valuable work, gives the following as a superstitious belief, or as, I should say, by no means a bad way of " raising the wind/^ " Twenty years ago, soon after we settled in this place, we were surprised by a visit fi'om a farmer, a respectable looking man, fi'om llsington, a village about six miles off. With a little hesitation he introduced himself, and told us his sou had lono- been a sufferer fi'om the fallina; sickness, that medical care had utterly failed, and, as a last resource, he had been advised to collect seven six- pences from seven maidens in seven different parishes, and have them melted down in a ring for the lad to wear. ' Can^t tell you,^ he went on, ' how many miles I have travelled on this business, for the villages here about are far apart. So, hearing a family of ladies had settled here, I thought I would come up the hill to see if one of them had a kind heart enough to help my poor Bill.-' The appeal was irresistible ; the sixpence was given, and the simple-hearted countryman went away full of gratitude, but not daring to utter it for fear of breaking the spell.-" The same writer narrates, on the authority of Dr. Walker, of Teignmouth, an astounding instance of superstition : " Within the last twenty years, he (Dr. Walker) had under his care a poor woman of that place who was suffering fi'om an extensive sore on her breast. When he visited her one day he was surprised to find the entire sm'face of the wound strewn over with a gritty substance, and a good deal of inflammation set up in con- sequence. In some displeasure he asked what they had been putting on, but for a long time he could get no answer, beyond ^Nothing at all, sir.' The people about were sullen, but the doctor was peremptory, and at last the woman's husband, rolling a mass of stone fi'om under the bed,muttered, in genuine Devonshire phrase,' Nothing but Peter's stone, and here he is ! ' On further inquiry it appeared that, incited by the neighbours, who declared his wife was not getting well as she should, the poor fellow had walked by night from Teignmouth to Exeter, £ 70 had flung stones against the figures on the west-front of the Cathedral (which is called St. Peter's by the common people), had succeeded at last in bringing down the arm of one of them, and carried it home in triumph. Part of the relic had been pulverised, mixed with lard, and applied to the sore. I have never met with another instance of the kind, but doubtless it is not a solitary- one. If the practice was ever a general one, we need not lay to the charge of Oliver CromwelFs army all the dilapidation of the glorious west front of Exeter Cathedral.'" The belief in Satan and his gentlemanly personality was common ; and I suppose among super- stitious theologians it is not uncommon now. I do not wish, of course, to shock the sensitive feelings of such excellent credulists by dealing irreverently with the Evil One, but many anecdotes are extant in Devonshire re- specting him. It is a well known story that the Devil perished of cold at North Lew; and this story once re- ceived confirmation by a young and blooming rustic damsel, who declared that " she was sure it was so, because her vayther found the body in his field, and dra'd en over the hedge wy his pick ! " HAEVEST HOME AND BAPTISMS. fHE end of the harvest was celebrated in the olden times in various ways. The last of the grain was brought home in triumph in a waggon, called the " Hock Cart," in which was a figure — sometimes living and sometimes a mere " dummy '' — adorned with wheat ears, so as to represent the goddess Ceres. The cart was preceded by rough rustic music, made harmonious by the joyous voices of troops of village children, who had contributed their share of work in the harvest field. Bloomfield describes one of these picturesque scenes : — Home came the jovial Hockey load, Lafst of the whole yeai-'s crop, And Grace among tlie green boughs rode, Right plump upon the top. 71 This way and that the waggon reeled, And never queen rode higher ; Her cheeks were coloured in the field, And ours before the fire. Then tliere was tlie feast at tlie homestead — a bountiful, rollicking, joyful meal ; thus described by Herrick, who, it will be remembered^ lived at Dean Prior, in this county : — Foundation of the feast, fat beefe ; With upper stories, mutton, veale ; With sev'ral dishes standing by, As here a custard, there a pie ; And here all tempting furmentie. And for to make the merrie cheere. If smirking wine be wanting here , There's that which drowns all care, stout beere. The baptism of infants was generally accompanied by much mirth and hospitality. In the villages around Dartmoor nurses were in the habit of taking cake and cheese, when carrying the infant to its christening, and bestowing them on the first person met of opposite sex to the child. "FLYING NODE." THERE is a tradition in East Budleigh that, about four and a-half centuries ago, one Ralph de Node invented a pair of wings with which he was able to fly in the air. Ono fine day he mounted a little too high; and, as "vaulting ambition doth oft o'erleap itself/^ so it fell out that the ambitious Ralph fell to the ground in a very unceremonious and unpleasant manner indeed. CATTLE ON CHRISTMAS EVE. THERE arc curious stories told of the influence which our Devon cattle seem to have imported to them on tlie eve of Chi-istmas. For example, it is said £hat at midnight, on Christmas Eve, the oxen in their stalls drop down on then- knees in the attitude of devotion. One old farmer once declared that he saw two of the oldest oxen in his stalls fall on their knees and " make a cruel moan like Chi-istiau creatures ! " 72 BIEDS OF ILL OMEN— A EOMANCE. fHERB are many popular omens of deatli in tliis county. In some families tliey assume a definite form^ and appear and re-appear generation after generation. The " bird with the white breast " was always regarded by the Oxenhams as the harbinger of death. Prince^ in his " Worthies of Devon, " says : — " There is a family of considerable standing of this name at Southtawton, near Okehampton, in this county, of which is this strange and wonderful thing recorded : That at the death of any of them a bird, with a white breast, is seen for a while fluttering about their beds, and then suddenly to vanish.''^ Mr. J. A. Howell tells us " That in a lapidary's shop in London he saw a large marble stone to be sent into Devonshire, with an inscription, ' That John Oxenham, Mary Oxenham, his sister, James, his son, and Elizabeth, his mother, had each the appearance of such a bird fluttering about their beds as they were dying.' " We also read that the bird appeared to William Oxenham in 1743; and that when he saw it he alluded to the tradition, but said he was not sick enough to die, and that he should cheat the bird. He died shortly afterwards. But the most romantic story connected with the superstition is the following : — ^Years ago — how many we cannot tell — there lived one Sir James Oxenham. A local ballad says : — Where lofty hills in grandeur meet, And Taw meandering flows ; There is a sylvan, calm retreat, Where erst a mansion rose. There dwelt Sir James of Oxenham, a brave and generous man. Early in his married life his wife died, leaving him with one daughter. Sir James was a fond parent ; and Margaret was a loving child. As she grew in stature, so also did her amiability, gene- rosity, and kindness of heart increase. She was idolized by the poor of the district, to whom her hand was ever ' open as the day to melting charity.' The festival of 73 Christmas was always observed in the good old English way at the hospitable mansion of the generous baronet. At the date of our story it had again come round to cheer the hearts of rich and poor. ' Miss Margaret/ as she was called in the parish^ welcomed the ' hallowed season^ right heartily, for it afforded her an oppor- tunity of distributing her gifts with a more bountiful hand than on ordinary occasions. On Chi'istmas Eve she usually visited the cottages of the poor, a servant accompanying her bearing the gifts. As she was proceeding down the lane leading from her father^s house to the village, at the date to which the first part of the story refers, she was accosted by a young gentleman on horseback, to whom — contrary to her wont — she accorded scant courtesy. ^I tell you, sir, as I have told you before, your persistent overtures are displeasing to me. I never can love you ; my heart is engaged to another ; and I pray you not to trouble me further.^ The young man was Impious, and, spurring his horse, he exclaimed, as he rode rapidly away, ' I will have my revenge.^ The festive season passed joyfully; and spring, summer, and autumn came and went, as they are wont to do. Christmas Eve again arrived. It was hailed with joy by Sir James Oxenham and his retainers, and by all the people of the neiorhbourhood for miles round — for Marg-aret was to be married to a gallant young knight on the following day. A gi-eat feast was given by Sir James to his fi'iends. The banquet over, the father rose to thank his friends for their congratulations on the coming happy event. Just as he was alluding to his ' son,"" as he called his daughter's future husband, it is said that he was terrified by the sudden appearance of the family omen. The local ballad thus refers to it : — But while the dear unpractised word Still lingered on his tongue, He saw a sUvery-breasted bird Fly o'er the festive throng. Swift as the lightning flashes fleet And lose their brilliant light, Sir James sat back upon his seat, Pale and entranced with fright. 74 Little notice, however; was taken of the circumstance by the guests, and on the morrow the wedding ceremony was appointed to take place. A large party assembled. The bells rung merrily ; the village children strewed flowers on the pathway of Margaret and the gallant young knight ; and joy beamed on the countenance of all assembled. The priest had just commenced the service, when a sudden commotion took place in the church. A terrible scream was heard. It was from the lips of Margaret. ' I said I would have my revenge/ exclaimed a man in disguise, who had stationed himself near the aflianced couple, ' and I have had it.'' The words were no sooner uttered than Margaret fell to the ground. She had been stabbed to the heart by her rejected lover, who afterwards, it is said, drew the dagger from her breast, and with a wild, maniacal laugh, plunged it into his own. In the words of the ballad : — Now marry me, proud girl, lie cried, Thy bluod with mine shall wed ; He dashed the dagger in his side And at her feet fell dead. Poor Margaret, too, grows cold with death, And round her hovering flies The phantom-bird for her last breath, To bear it to the skies. "THE COWS AND THE PIXIES, }> [The following is told by Mr. Baring Gonld. Of course there are Tales without number of Pixy freaks.] fHERE was a farmer, and he had three cows. Fine fat beauties they were, one called Facey, the other Diamond, and the third Beauty. One morning he went into his cowshed, and there he found Facey so thin that the wind would have blown her away. Her skin hung loose about her, all her flesh was gone, and she stared out of her great eyes as though she'd seen a ghost ; and what more, the fire place in the kitchen was 75 one great pile of wood ash. Well^ lie was bothered with it_, he could not see how this had come about. Next morning his wife went out to the shed, and lo ! Diamond was, for all the world, as wisht a looking creature as Facey : nothing but a bag of bones, all the flesh gone, and half a rick of wood was gone too ; but the fireplace was piled up three feet high with white wood ashes. The farmer determined to watch the third night ; so he hid in a closet which opened out of the parlour, and he left the door just ajar, that he might see what passed. Tick, tick, went the clock, and the farmer was nearly tired of waiting ; and he had to bite his httle finger to keep himself awake, when suddenly the door of his house flew open, and in rushed, may be, a thousand pixies, laughing and dancing, and dragging at the halter of Beauty till they had brought the cow into the middle of the room. The farmer thought he would have died of fright ; and so perhaps he would have, had not curiosity kept him alive. Tick, tick, went the clock, but he did not hear it now. He was too intent staring at the pixies and his last beautiful cow. He saw them throw her down, and fall on her, and kill her, and then with their knives they ripped her open, and flayed her as clean as a whistle. Then out ran some of the little people and brought in firewood, and made a roaring blaze on the hearth, and there they cooked the meat of the cow — they baked, and they boiled, they stewed and they fried. " Take care," cried one, who seemed to be the king, " let no bone be broken." Well, when they had all feasted, and had eaten up every scrap of beef on the cow, they began playing games with the bones, tossing them one to another. One little leg bone fell close to the closet door, and the farmer was so afraid lest the pixies should come there and find him searching for the bone, that he put out his hand, and drew it in to him. Then he saw the king stand on the table, and say " gather the bones ! " 76 Round and round flew the imps, picking- up the bones. '^Arrange them!" said the king; and they placed them all in their proper positions in the hide of the cow. Then they folded the skin over them, and the king struck the heap of bones and skin with his rod. Whisht ! up sprang the cow, and lowed dismally. It was alive again, but now, as the pixies dragged it back to its stall, it halted in the off fore foot, for a bone was missing. " The cock crew Away they flew," and the farmer crept trembling to bed. PIXY AND FAIRY LORE. [The following is an extract from a lecture I had the pleasure to deliver sometime ago, the full account of which appears in my "Devonshire Sketches."] % NYBODY who is interested in the pixy lore of this ckik county, and can boast of having a grandmother or other elderly relative resident in the rural districts, would do well to obtain from such a respectable and authentic source all that can be gained of story and tradition to illustrate the past, for much is passing away from us that is worthy of preservation. When I was a little boy, unacquainted with any of the ologies except taw-ology, the woods and hills and meadows surrounding my native village were peopled with fairies, nymphs, and pixies. When my venerable grandfather came home late at night, as he sometimes did, at harvest time, and on other festive occasions — with an unusually red nose and a somewhat thick voice — he was sure to have missed his way, ^' all owing to them beggaring little pigsies," against whose mischievous pranks he had failed to take the infallible precaution of turning his stockings inside out. The pixies arc little rural Bands of Hope, as far as their 77 dislike of ovcr-di*inking* is concerned ; for^ it is commonly related tliat^ wlieu a farmer or a laboui'er has indulged in a '' cup of zider '^ too much^ he is sure to be led a " purty dance/^ on going to his home ; indeed, he is accustomed to feel liis usually steady head spinning round like a mill-wheel, and to hear " they little bits of pigsies a-laughing- and a-tacking their hands for joy '^ at their success in leading him astray. A distinction is drawn between pixies and fairies, although it is understood that they resemble each other pretty closely, differences of locality being duly accounted for. Both are invisible to mortal eyes that have never been " stuck with a certain magical ointment. •"' Mine have never been, and therefore I have no idea what either are like. Pixies are said by the Devonshu^e peasants to be the souls of unbaptized infants, which may account for their dishke to hold their noctm^nal revels near a Chm-ch. They are very tiny, as may be imagined when it is remembered '' that a hazel nut will contain the Majesty of Pixy-land ! " Some are pretty and graceful ; others are quaint and uncouth — diminutive Hunchbacks in fact. They delight in sohtary places, and disport themselves in pathless woods, on hills, in vales, and on the banks of rivers, then' di^ess being invariably green. Their chief delight is in dancing by the light of the moon. Pixy chroniclers tell us that, in many a wild and unfi'equented spot in Devonshire, these little elves congregate by thousands when mortal eyelids are closed in sweet sleep. " There in the depth of night (says Mrs. Bray) the owl, who probably stands as watchman to the company, will hoot between whiles ; and sounds, such as never come from human voice or touch, "will float in the air, making marvellous sweet music, whilst the elves of hills, brooks, standing lakes and groves will whirl in giddy round, making rings, whereof the ewe bites not." Mrs. Bray also says of pixy revelry, in one of her interesting letters to Southey : " Then* love of dancing is not unaccompanied with that of music, though it is of a natm-e somewhat 78 different to those sounds which human ears are apt to consider harmonious. In Devonshire that unlucky omen, the cricket cry, is to them as animating and as ■well-timed as the piercing notes of the fife, or the dulcet melody of the flute to mortals. The frogs sing their double bass, and the screech owl is to them like an aged and favoured minstrel piping in hall. The grasshopper too chirps with his meny note in the concert, and the humming bee plays his hautbois to then' tripping on the green. The small stream, on whose banks they hold their sports, seems to share their hilarity, and talks and dances as well as they in emulation of the revelry ; whilst it shows, through its crystal waters, a gravelly bed as bright as burnished gold, the jewel-house of Fairy-land. It is under the cold, chaste light of the moon, or amidst the silent shadows of the dark rocks, where that light never penetrates, that on the Moor the elfin King of the Pixy race holds his high court of sovereignty and council. There each Pixy receives his especial charge. Some are sent, like the spirit Gathon of Cornwall, to work the wiU of his master in the mines — to show, by sure signs, where lies the richest lodes; or sometimes to delude the unfortunate miner, who may not be in favour, with false fires, and to mock his toils by starthng him with unaccustomed sounds and peals of wild laughter. Others are sent on far better errands. They are the enemies of sluts and idlers, and accordingly they sally forth to see that the village maidens do their duty with mop and broom. ■'^ Should the watchful Pixies find that said maidens are not doing their duty, then — to quote the words of Drayton — they Make onr girls their sluttery rue, By pinchiBg them both bhick and blue, And put a penny in their shoe, The house for cleanly sweeping. Others of the Pixies are sent forth to lead travellers astray, by inducing them to follow " Will o' the Wisp." Others again love frolic more than mischief, and are known to have indulged their propensity for fun by 79 suddenly blowing out tlie candles of an evening, and kissing the girls with " a smack/^ causing them to shriek out, '^ Who's that ? — the nasty, forward thing ! '' Dartmoor is said to be much frequented by pixies. In former times they carried on their pranks in the Moorland town of Tavistock in such a rollicking and irritating manner that the Monks who inhabited the stately Abbey were much annoyed thereat. The little wandering pixies were in the habit, it appears, "in the old Summers, when the Monk was fat,'' to tickle his rubicund nose, when taking his nap after dinner ; and sometimes to tread upon his gouty Hmbs, which caused him to swear, and consequently to become very sinful. The result was that these indignant priests set upon the poor little elves, as so many heretics, with " bell, book, and candle," and drove them into their native wilds, where they have been glad to remain ever since. Coleridge, in his notes to a beautiful little poem, the " Song of the Pixies," states that, on the banks of the Otter, there is an excavation, called " Pixies' Parlour." The roots of trees form its ceiling, and on its sides are innumerable cyphers, among which the author dis- covered his own, and those of his brothers, cut by the hand of their childhood. I have had the pleasure of seeing " Pixies' Pariom-," to which the Poet thus alludes, as well as the initials of his name, which are now visible on its walls. Many quaint, humourous, and poetical stories are related of the Pixies of Devonshire. Mrs. Bray gives several in her letters to Southey. I am indebted to her for the substance of the following : — In a village on the boarders of Dartmoor once lived a venerable nurse. One fine night, about twelve o'clock, she was aroused from her slumbers by a vigorous rapping at the cottage door. On opening it she was com- manded — not invited — by a squint-eyed little pigmy, to come to his wife immediately. " Thy Wde ! " thought the good dame — " Heaven forgive me, but as sure as I 80 live I be going to tlie birth of a little devil." A large^ coal black liorse, witli eyes like balls of fire, stood at the door. The ill-looking Httle fellow, without more ado, whisked the venerable nurse into a high pillion ; and, seating himseK before her, di'ove away like mad. On arriving at a very neat cottage she was introduced to a tidy httle woman, who very soon presented her diminutive lord with an energetic little baby. Indeed, so energetic and forward was the child that, on its entry into Hfe, it is said that it gave the nurse a severe '' box in the ear." The mother made no remark upon this singular instance of infantile pugnacity, but requested nurse to strike the eyes of the httle one with a certain ointment which she had in the room. This was done ; and the nurse, with the characteristic cm-iosity of her sex, thought she should much like to know what kind of stufl: it was. Accordingly she apphed some to her own eyes ; when ! ye powers of pixy-land what a change took place. The cottage underwent an immediate transformation. The mother appeared as a beautifid lady, attired in white, and the babe was wrapped in swaddhng clothes, of a ghttering silvery texture. It looked much prettier than before, but still maintained the elfish cast of the eye, like the father. The nurse, being natm*ally much alarmed at this strange metamorphosis, expressed a wish to get away as soon as possible. Pigmy-Paterfamilias com- phed with the request, lifted her up on the coal black horse, and took her to her house in a " jiffy/^ as a very short time is called in Devonshu-e. On the next Moreton market day the good dame salhed forth to sell her eggs and butter. On arriving in the old town who should she see but the same wicked-looking Pixy, whose wife she had attended. He was busily engaged in pilfering sundry articles fi'om the various stalls. Nurse addi'essed Mr. Pigmy, and " hoped his wife and babe were as well as could be expected," " What ! " exclaimed the pigmy pilferer, " Do you see me to-day !" " See you ! to be sure I do, as plainly as I see the sun in the skies, or my old man^s nose in his face. And, 81 Mr. Pixy, I see that you are busy too — about tliat wMcli looks very much hke thieving." "'Do you?'' cried he — " Pray with which eye do you see all this ? " ^' With the right eye to be sure ! " she rephed. ''■ The ointment ! the ointment ! " exclaimed the little old fellow : '' take that for meddling with what does not concern you — you shall see me no more."" He struck her eye as he spoke, and from that hour until the day of her death she was blind in the right eye — thus dearly paying (as the chronicler observes) for having gratified an idle curiosity. Thebehef in Pixies and Fairies is still strong in some parts of Devon. In the border hamlets of Dartmoor and Exmoor this faith is still active. Not long ago a farm labourer, who was jom-neying from Chagford to North Bovey, saw a numerous party of Pixies dancing in a greenwood. Each had a taper in its hand ; and the labourer declares that they were "the purtiest little things he had ever zeed!" A nurse, residing at Gidleigh, near Chagford, in her nightly rambles from the scene of her useful labours to her own house, has often been pixy led, and has heard the little rogues tack their hands, and cry out for joy, at seeing what a maze she was in. It was only after she had turned her pocket inside out that she got into the right road to her anxious husband and family. Not far from the town of Moreton there died, not many years ago, a diminutive woman, Avho might have been the spouse of Tom Thumb. The old ladies of the neighbom-hood say that the httle creatm-e was the offspring of Pixy parents ; and that the old woman who brought her up had her own child stolen from her in the woods, where she had set her down whilst picking sticks, the elfin baby having been substituted for the child by the Pixies. 82 JACK HANNAFORD. fHERE was an old soldier who liad been long in tlie wars — so long that lie was quite out at elbows, and lie did not know where to go to find a living. So he walked up moors and down glens, till at last he came to a farm from which the good man had gone away to market. The wife of the farmer, who had, by the way, been previously married, was a very foolish woman — the farmer was foolish enough too, and it is hard to say which of the two was the most foolish ; when you have heard my tale then you may decide. Now, before the farmer goes to market, says he to his wife, " Here is ten pounds, all in gold, take care of it till I come home.''^ If the man had not been a fool, he would never have given the money to his wife to keep. Well, he went off in his cart to market, and the wife said to herself, " I will keep the ten pounds quite safe from thieves." So she tied it up in a rag, and she put the rag up the parlour chimney. " There ! '' said she, '' no thieves will ever find it now, that is quite sm^e." Jack Hannaford, the old soldier, came and rapped at the door. " Who is there ? " asked the wife. " Jack Hannaford." " Where do you come from ? " " Paradise." " Lord a'mcrcy ! then may be youVe seen my old man there," alluding to her former husband. " Yes, I have." "And how was he a-doing ? " asked the goody. " But middling. He cobbles old shoes, and he has nothing but cabbage for victuals." " Deary life ! " exclaimed the woman. " Didn^t he send a message to me ? " " Yes, he did," replied Jack Hannaford, " he said that he was out of leather, and his pockets were empty, so you was to send him a few sliillings to buy a fresh stock of leather." 83 " He shall liave them, bless liis poor soul ! " And away went the wife to the parlour chimney, and she pulled the rag with the ten pounds in it from the chimney, and she gave the whole of the sum to the soldier, telliug him that her old man was to use as much as he wanted, and to send back the rest. It was not long that Jack waited after he had received the money. He went off as fast as he could walk. Presently the farmer came home and asked for his money. The wife told him that she had sent it by a soldier to her former husband in Paradise, to buy him leather for cobbling the shoes of the saints in heaven. The farmer was very angry, and he swore that he had never met with such a fool as his wife. But the wife said her husband was a greater fool for letting her have the money. There was no time to waste words, so the farmer mounted his horse and rode after Jack Hauna- ford. The old soldier heard the horse-hoofs clattering on the road behind him, so he knew it must be the farmer pursuing him. He lay down on the ground, and, shading his eyes with one hand, looked up into the sky, and pointed heavenward with the other hand. " What are you about there ? " asked the farmer, pulling up. " Lord save you ! " exclaimed Jack, " I've seen a rare sight ! " '' AVhat was that ? " " A man going straight up into the sky, as if he was walking on a road ! " " Can you see him still ? " " I can." ""Where?" " Get off your horse, and lie down." " If you will hold the horse." Jack did so, readily. " I cannot see him," said the farmer. " Shade your eyes with yom* hand, and you'll soon see a man flyiug away from you." Sm'e enough he did so ; for Jack leaped on the horse 84 and rode away with it. The farmer walked home without liis horse. " You are a bigger fool than I am," said the wife ; " for I did only one foolish things and you have done two.'' SIR FRANCIS DRAKE AND THE DEVILS. @IR Francis Drake, the great navigator, determined W) to build a large mansion for himself at Buckland Monachorum. He brought masons and builders from Plymouth, Exeter, and Tavistock, and they worked hard, squaring stones and setting them in mortar, so that the walls rose in one day six feet from the founda- tion. Next morning every stone was removed from its place, and carried to a great distance. The great Sir Francis Drake was very angry, but he could not tell who had done the mischief, so he ordered the builders to recommence their work, and they built till they had raised the walls to the same level. Next morning every stone was removed. So then Sir Francis determined to find out who had done this. The builders worked as before, and at night Sir Francis hid himself in a tree and watched. At midnight the earth opened, and out came a multitude of little black devils, chattering and laughing. They set to work at the stones of Buckland Monachorum House, and they carried them away with the greatest ease, and all the walls were demolished before cockcrow. Next day the workmen builded as before, and raised the walls for the fourth time. Sir Francis in the evening dressed himself all in white, and climbed into a tree. Presently the earth opened, and out came the little black devils, chattering and laughing. Sir Francis let them come with a load of stones under the tree, and then he flapped his arms, and cried out very loud ^^Kikkeriki \" And the devils looked up, and saw the great white bird (as they thought him) sitting crowing in the tree ; and they dropped all the stones and ran away, screaming with fright, thinking the end of the world had come. — TJie liev. Baring Gould in " Notes and Queries." 85 THE SICK CLERK AND HIS SUBSTITUTE. ^LD GILES, the blacksmith, was ill. "He wos vurry bad wy the rheumatiz, and cudden act." What was to be done ? He had two apprentices — one a stalwart fellow, nearly six feet in height, " jest the soart of chap vor tha desk, yer riverence, but, darn me, if he can rayd ! " " That^s unfortunate — ^very," said the clergyman. " But you have another apprentice, have you not ? " " WuU, ees, but he^s too short — he^s bit a leetle boy, but he rayd^s butiful." " How tall is he ? " " Lor, bliss ee, he widden raych up to tha bukes ! Bit a bright thort has strook ma. Doant ce think now that he cude go into the desk wy my big vellar, and tull en whit to say ? He^th a got a vine voice, an no mistake. He'll gie et lip." The parson thought that might do. Accordingly, the arrangement was made, and duly carried into effect on the following Sunday. The congregation was surprised to see a new clerk, especially as many present knew that " Jack Greenhill cudden rayd wan bit." They could not, however, see the lad by his side. Presently the service commenced with — " When the wicked man," &c. As it proceeded, the surprise of the congrega- tion waxed great as they heard " Jack Greenhill " read out the responses very accurately, and in a stentorian voice. Then- surprise was greater as the service went on. The new clerk had put his thumb over the next passage set down for him. " Take off thy thumb ! " whispered the little fellow by his side. " Take off thy thumb ! " said " Jack Greenhill," in his loudest tones. The " passen " was " flabbergasted." Leaning over the desk he vsaid, sotto voce, " Hold your tongue you fool." " Hold your tongue, you fool ! " said the clerk aloud. " Don't make thyself a ass," said the youngster. "Don't make thyself a ass," repeated the obedient clerk. " Get out of the desk you lubber ! " said the parson ; " Get out of the desk you lubber," said tlio clerk. " I'll kick ce out ! " said the parson ; " I'll kick F 86 ee out " repeated the clerk. The upshot was that the parson came dowu from his " perch/^ summarily ejected poor Jack, and, having apologised for his ill manners, proceeded with the service by himself. HISTORICAL TRADITION. GREAT PULFOED. T IKE many other old Devonshire mansions, this fine XC remnant of the past, with its noble avenue of trees and historical associations, hath its traditions. It is now the property of the worthy son of the late Bishop Fulford, whose ambition, we feel sure, is to restore as far as lies in his power, the ancient glory of his noble house. There is an historical tradition con- nected with the mansion, namely, that King Charles I. took refuge and slept here ; and although there is no direct evidence of the tradition, there are some strong facts in its favour. The Fulford family were always strong Monarchists, and Sir Francis Fulford fought valiantly (his son was slain) for the Stuarts. When CromwelFs gallant general. Sir Thomas Fairfax, captured the mansion, ho showed his great respect for the valor of the Fulfords by granting to Sir Francis the following pass : — " These are to require you, on sight hereof, to forbear to prejudice Sir F. Fulford, of Fulford, in the county of Devon, either by plundering his house there or at Toller, or Whitechurch, in the County of Dorset, or rifling his goods, in taking away any of his horses, sheep, or any other cattle whatsoever, or doing any violence to his person or family, you and every of you will answer the contrary at your peril ; and you are likewise to permit and suffer him, with his two servants and three horses, arms, and necessaries, to pass the guards to Devon and Dorset, and from time to time pass in the said counties about his lawful affairs, without let or interruption. Given under my hand and seal, this IGtli of March, at Truro, 1645-6. T. Fairfax. To all officers and soldiers under my command." 87 WITCHES. [The belief in Witchcraft was common in Devonshire years ago, and still lingers in obscure parts.] " OLD GEANNY CAUGHT." 'RS. BRAY, in her interesting work, relates tlie following : — An old witcli, in days of yore, lived tkis neighbourhood, and whenever she wanted money, she would assume the shape of a hare, and would send out her grandson to tell a certain huntsman, who lived close by, that he had seen a hare sitting at such a particular spot, for which he always received the reward of sixpence. After this deception had many times been practised, the dogs tm'ned out, the hare was pursued, but never caught, and then a sportsman of the party began to suspect, in-the language of tradition, that the devil was in dance, and there would be no end to it. The matter was dis- cussed, a justice consulted, and a clergyman to boot, and it was thought that, however clever the devil might be, law and church combined would be more than a match for him. It was, therefore, agreed that as the boy was singularly regular in the horn* at which he came to announce the sight of the hare all should be in readiness for a start the instant such information was given, and a neighbour of the witch, nothing friendly to her, promised to let the parties know directly when the old woman and her grandson left the cottage and went off together, the one to be hunted and the other to set on the hunt. The news came, the hounds were unkennelled, and huntsmen and sportsmen set of with surprising speed. The witch, now a hare, and her little colleague in iniquity, did not expect so very speedy a turn out, so that the game was pursued at a desperate rate, and the boy, forgetting himself in a moment of alarm, was heard to exclaim, " Run Granny ; run for your hfe ! " At last the pursuers lost the hare, and she once more got safe into the cottage by a littlo 88 hole in the bottom of tlie door ; but not large enough to- admit a hound in chase. The huntsmen^ all the squires with their train^ lent a hand to break open the door^ but could not do it till the parson and the justice came up ; but as law and church were certainly designed to break through iniquity even so did they now succeed in bursting the magic bonds that opposed them. Up stairs they all went. There they found the old hag bleedings and covered with wounds^ and still out of breath. She denied she was a hare, and railed at the whole party. " Call up the hounds/'' said the huntsman, " and let us see what they take her to be, may be we may yet have another hunt.''^ On hearing this, the old woman cried quarter. The boy dropped on his knees, and begged hard for mercy — mercy was granted on conditions of its being received together with a good whipping; and the huntsman, having long practised amongst the hounds, now tried his hand on their game. Thus the old woman escaped a worse fate for the time present, but on being afterwards put on her trial for bewitching a young woman, and making her spit pins, the tale just told was given as evidence against her, before a particularly learned judge and a remarkably sagacious jury, and the old woman finished her days like a martyi' at the stake. WHITE V/ITCHES. There are still plenty of white witches in Devonshire, but one died a few years ago in the village of Bovey Tracey, who, unless she was greatly maligned, by no means deserved so favourable a designation. She was accused of "overlooking^^ her neighbour's pigs, so that her son, if ever betrayed into a quarrel with her, used always to say before they parted, " Mother, mother, spare my pigs.'" This son, a farm labourer, living in the adjoining parish of Hennock, came to a very re- markable end. While leading a cart through the river Teign lie stopped to rest his horse ; and while arrang- ing something about the cart it turned over upon him, so that he was imprisoned in the water and drowned. The 89 neighbours remembered that he "had words" with his mother when last they met, and were not slow in laying his death to her charge. But the most awful story about her is as follows : " A man went to her asking for help, to get rid of an enemy. The witch gave him a candle, and told him to take it into a secret place, light it, and watch it while it was burning. So long as it burned his enemy would be in flames ; when it expired he would die, which, said my informant, came to pass." Dairymaids consider that the cream is bewitched when the butter is not readily made. It is recounted in Thorpe^s Mythology that a farmer, at Bratton Clovelly, fancying that his cows were charmed, so that his milk yielded no cream, and would not boil, resorted to a white witch, at Exeter, who advised him to make a fire of sticks gathered out of four parishes, and set the milk upon it — which he did, and broke the spell, the baffled witch peeping in at the window just as the milk boiled over. WITCHES CHAEMS. We may here just refer to one or two witch charms. The dried hind leg of a toad, placed in a silk bag, and worn round the neck, is thought to drive away the king's evil, and rheumatism is exorcised by bmming a toad to powder, and wearing the dust round the tlu^oat tied in silk. The delusion is likewise entertained that if you pluck six blades of grass from the spot where a robbery has been committed, and take them to a white witch, as many scratches as she makes witli a pin in the grass blades so many rents will there be in the face of the tliicf . Mr. Baring Gould says : ^^Not many years ago a young girl, in dehcate health, was thought to have been bewitched by an old woman of Cheriton Bishop, and the villagers declared that the only chance of discovery would be an application of the witch's blood. The supposed witch was seized by the girFs friends, scratched with a nail till the blood flowed, the blood was collected and smeared over the sick person, whose restoration to health was attributed to that stroke of audacity." F 2 90 THE STOEY OF LADY HOWARD. LADY Howard was born in Tavistock^ and had four husbands. According to tradition, she was a sort of female Blue Beard. Her last husband was Sir Edward Grenville. Lady Howard had one daughter, and she is said to have so disliked the child from the time of her birth, that she treated it with inhuman barbarity. A lady of station who visited Lady Howard at her seats — Walreddon and Fitz-ford — was so shocked at this treatment of the clrld that she con- trived to have her stolen, aud placed in a distant part of the country. Lady Howard often wished her daughter dead, and as years went on and she did not come back to her mother, her ladysliip flattered herself that her wish was accomplished. But, in the interval, the daughter grew to be a beautiful young lady, and was one day brought back by the kind gentlewoman who had adopted her. She was introduced to Lady Howard as the orphan of a friend. Her ladyship, struck with her great beauty, expressed great ad- miration for her ; and then the fiiend, thinking it a fitting opportunity, told her " it was her lost daughter." Female Blue Beard^s anger knew no bounds ; the beautiful girl was banished from the house, and treated with personal violence. For her many crimes. Lady Howard, in the form of a hound, is said to run between midnight and cock-crow from the ancient gate of Fitz- ford House to Okehampton Park, and back again with one blade of glass in her mouth. This she is doomed to do every night until not a single blade of grass is left unplucked in the Park. However, her ladyship is said to assume various forms. Some have seen her in the shape of a calf ; others as a wool-sack full of eyes, rolling along from Fitz-ford. But most have seen her as a greyhouiid, and very often in the coach of bones. This story is frequently told of her : Two servant girls, whose sweethearts came one Sunday evening to see them, being informed they intended to get up early the following morning to washing, offered 91 to come to the house at the hour named, for company. The servants were very glad of this, as the house was haunted, according to report. The young men, anxious to fulfil their promise, determined to get up early. One heard Tavistock chimes play at twelve o'clock and concluded it was four. He arose, awoke his companion, and they went together to Fitz-ford. When they came there, the doors being open and the fires all hghted, they thought that the servants were gone upstau-s to prepare the clothes, &c. They agreed upon playing a trick, and got under the stairs in order to frighten the maids. Soon after they heard footsteps, and peeping out cautiously, they saw two very large black dogs, with eyes as big as saucers^ and fiery tongues, which hung out of their mouths. The young men thought at all events they had best remain quiet, which they did till cock-crowing ; when, directly, the dogs vanished, the fires went out_, and the doors instantly closed. Soon after the servants came down stairs, and on hearing this story became so alarmed that they determined to quit Fitz-ford. But on recollecting they were each the first-born of their parents, they felt they were safe ; as it is said that no witch, ghost, or pixy can injure the first-born child. They became, there- fore, reconciled to the place.''' LAYING OF GHOSTS. TT was a popular belief that the clergy had the j^owcr A of punishing notoriously wicked men (or men who had been offensive to them,) after death — a presumed power which like many of the cloth, they did not forget to induce the credulous to believe in. For example, the dead have been committed to the performance of interesting tasks, such as binding bundles of sand and making ropes of the same ! I remember, when a lad, being always in great terror to pass a certain spot by the river side where a man, popularly known as " Tom Triniman " was supposed to appear every night to labour at this work. Passing this spot one Summer 92 evening in tlie " dimpse/^ I clearly saw " poor Tom/^ in his " red cap," working- away at liis impossible task. I didn't want to see any more ,and I never knew to this day liow I got home — whether upon my head or my heels. The " passens " also were supposed to be able to '' lay wandering spirits/' who were in the habit of appearing to the living in a manner that was not pleasant ; and the ceremony, usually performed at mid-night, was of course of a very mysterious character indeed. HORSE HAGS. fHE belief in the horse-hags described by Shak- speare also exists in the county : — " That very Mab That plats the manes of horses in the night, And bakes the elf-locks in foul sluttish hairs, Wliich, once untangled, much misfortune bodes." Borneo and Juliet. This superstition has not died out. Mr. Pulman, the able editor and proprietor of the Wceldy News and the author of many most valuable local works, says that only a short time ago a veterinary surgeon of Crewkerne was sent for to prescribe for a valuable horse belonging to a gentleman of a neighbouring village. On his arrival at the stable, he was assured by the groom, with much solemnity, that the animal was suffering, not from any disease within the reach of medicine, but from the baneful effects of " horse-hags.''' The proof of this the groom pointed out in the animal's mane, which had evidently, as he averred, been twisted into the usual knot-ladders, by means of which, it would appear, the " hags " are in the habit of mounting to the head of their victims, for the purpose of worrying them. He could account for the mys- terious knots in no other way, and was much dis- appointed in being unable to persuade his master to " throw physic to the dogs," and to employ what he believed to bo the more appropriate agency of the white witch. 93 HAUNTED HOUSES. N haunted houses the belief was of a most devout character. Scarcely any parish in Devonshire but had its tradition, especially where the houses were ancient, and some member of the family had in his or her time been "^wicked." Mrs. Bray relates one in connection with an old farm, called Down House, near Tavistock. It is said the family who resided there well knew the hour of the night in which the ghosts made their appearance, and always took care to go to bed before it came. But it happened on a time that a child was very ill, and asked its mother for water ; she went to the pitcher to get some, when the child refused any but such as might be got directly from the pump. The mother became quite distressed, unwilling to dis- please the child, yet afraid to go down to the pump, as it was about the hour in which the ghost walked. She considered upon it a little while, and the child still continuing very anxious about the water, she at last said, " In the name of God I will go down.-'' She did so. Passing over the stairs she perceived a shadow, and then she heard footsteps ; and when she came to the pump she felt a hand on her shoulder. She turned and perceived a tall man. Summoning a good resolu- tion, however, she said, "In the name of God, why troublest thou me ? " The ghost rephed, " It is well for thee that thou hast spoken to me in the name of God ; this being the last time allotted me to trouble this world, or else I should have injured thee. Now do as I tell thee, and be not afraid. Come with me, and I will direct thee to a something wliich shall remove this pump : under it is concealed treasure." This something was procured, and applied as the ghost du-ected. The pump was quickly removed, when imder it there lay a gTeat deal of money. She was desu'ed to take up the treasure and stock her farm with it. And the spirit told her that if ever any person molested or deprived her of her property, he should 94 suffer well for it. He then ordered her to go and give the water to the child^ who^ in reward for her courage and trust in God, should recover. The cock crew ; du'ectly the figure dwindled again to a shadow, ascended through the air, and she watched till he soon became a small bright cloud. ec YETH '' HOUNDS. fiiAITH in supernatural hunting, with headless hounds and horses, at the '' witching hour of night," was common in Devonshire at one time, and still lingers in the minds of ancient grandams in obscure locaHties. The spectral animals were called " Wisht " and " Yeth '' hounds. Our Devonshire poet, Mr. Capern, has a poem on this subject, in a note to which he says that he knew an old matron who was a firm behever in the existence of the moor-fiend and his pack, and who also was convinced that every unbaptized infant became the prey of the " Yeth " hunter. Following are verses fi-om the poem : — " Oh for a wild and starless iiight, And a curtain o'er the white moon's face, For the moor-fiend hunts an infant sprite, At cock crow over Parkham chase. Hark to the cracking of the whip ! A merry band are we, I ween ; List to the ' Yeth ' hounds' yij) ! yip ! yip ! Ha, ha ! 'tis thus we ride unseen. " !;■ f|: ^^^ THE LIBRARY UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA LOS ANGELES / 3 1158 00856 'ill I UC SOUTHERN REGIONAL LIBRARY FACILITY AA 000 372 639 5 ;iiVKM„j^fiw: