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THE SCOTT LIBRARY. 
 
 ENGLISH FAIRY AND OTHER 
 FOLK TALES. 
 
,*, »OK TOLJ- LIST or THE VOLOMBS IN THIS SERIES, 
 SES CATALOGUB AT BNC OF BOOK. 
 
English Fairy and other Folk 
 Tales. Selected and Edited, 
 WITH AN Introduction, by 
 Edwin Sidney Hartland. 
 
 THE WALTER SCOTT PUBLISHING CO., LTD. 
 
 LONDON AND FELLING-ON-TYNE. 
 
 NEW YORK: 3 EAST 14TH STREET. 
 
CONTENTS. 
 
 NURSERY tales- 
 Jack THE GlANT-KlLLER 
 The Princess of Canterbury 
 The Princess of Colchester 
 Mr. Fox 
 "Tom Tit Tot" 
 Jack and the Bean-Stalk 
 
 SAGAS— 
 Historical and Local — 
 
 The Story of Saint Kenelm 
 
 Wild Edric 
 
 Lady Godiva 
 
 The Legend of the Sons of the Conqueror 
 
 The Legend of Becket's Parents 
 
 The Fause Fable of the Lord Lathom 
 
 Whittington and his Cat 
 
 The Pedlar of Swaffham 
 
 The Lambton Worm 
 
 Bom ERE Pool .... 
 Giants — 
 
 The Origin of the Wrekin . 
 
 The Blinded Giant 
 Fairies — 
 
 Worcestershire Fairies 
 
 The Fairy's Midwife . 
 
 The Adventure of Cherry of Zennor 
 
 The Fairy Funeral 
 
 The Piskies in the Cellar . 
 
 Edwin and Sir Topaz . 
 
 The Two Serving Damsels 
 
 The Tulip Bed .... 
 
 The Fisherman and the Piskies 
 
 A Fairy Caught 
 
 Colman Grey .... 
 
 The King of the Cats 
 
 A Myth of Midridge . 
 
 The Green Children , 
 
 The Fairy Banquet 
 
 The Fairy Horn 
 
CONTENTS. 
 
 Fairies — continued — 
 The Fairy Fair . 
 The Fairies' Caldron . 
 The Cauld Lad of Hilton 
 The Fairy Thieves 
 The Boggart 
 Ainsel ... 
 Legend of the Rollright Stones 
 
 The Devil and other Goblins — 
 Dando and his Dogs . 
 The Demon Tregeagle 
 The Parson and Clerk 
 Outwitting the Devil 
 The Hunted Hare 
 The Well of St. Ludgvan 
 The Hedley Kow 
 
 Witchcraft— 
 
 The Lord of Pengerswick 
 The Witch and the Toad 
 Witch and Hare 
 The Hand of Glory . 
 Betty Chidley the Witch 
 The Bag of Flour 
 Kentsham Bell . 
 
 Ghosts — 
 
 A Bishop's Ghost 
 
 A Clergyman's Ghost . 
 
 The Haunted PIouse . 
 
 Ghost-Laying Stories . 
 
 The Roaring Bull o' Bagbury 
 
 The White Lady of Blenkinsopp 
 
 The Haunted Widower 
 
 The Ghost of Rosewarne 
 
 The Lady with the Lantern 
 
 Spectre-Dogs 
 
 Billy B 's Adventure 
 
 DROLLS— 
 
 The Wise Fools of Gotham 
 
 The Three Wishes 
 
 The Miller at the Professor's Examination 
 
 Stupid's Mistaken Cries 
 
 The Three Sillies 
 
 Mr. Vinegar 
 
 Lazy Jack 
 
 The History of Tom Thumb 
 
INTRODUCTION. 
 
 The following collection of English Folk Tales docs 
 not pretend to be more than a presentation, in a more 
 or less literary form, of a few of the traditional stories, 
 formerly no doubt rife in this country, but now fast 
 disappearing under the stress of modem life. The 
 reader will of course miss many of those with which 
 he has always been familiar — many for which the 
 term Fairy Tale has always seemed to him to have a 
 special connotation. One of the reasons for this is 
 that several of such tales are not of true native 
 growth, but were introduced from France by means 
 of the chap-book translations to which I shall have 
 occasion to refer presently. Another reason is to be 
 found in the complaint recently made by a distin- 
 guished writer that a good version of his old favourite, 
 Jack the Giant-Killer, was hard to procure. I have 
 indeed ventured to include a version of this particular 
 tale, though it can by no means be denied that time 
 and circumstances have dealt hardly with it, as with 
 many like it The story bears marks of the weathering 
 
viii INTR OD UCTION. 
 
 of ages, and can no longer be given with its details 
 as clear and sharply cut as are those of corre- 
 sponding stories in other countries. Nay, even many 
 of its outlines are broken and destroyed : it is but a 
 poor maimed thing, and, what is worse, it is by no 
 means solitary in its ruin. 
 
 This blurring of detail and destruction of outline, 
 moreover, only repeats within the limits of the indi- 
 vidual story what has been going on with every class 
 of traditions. Whole stories have disappeared, and 
 are disappearing from day to day. In England and 
 in Scotland we have perhaps managed to keep speci- 
 mens of every kind of traditional narrative ; but from 
 Wales one entire class — and that one of the most 
 important — has vanished utterly. The different fates 
 of English and Welsh folk tales lead us so far beyond 
 commonplace generalities about the decay of tradition, 
 that I am tempted to spend a few words upon them. 
 In doing so it will be needful first of all to explain 
 that Tales or Traditional Narratives are capable of 
 being divided into at least five classes — namely, 
 Sagas, Nursery Tales, Drolls, Apologues, and Cumu- 
 lative Tales. Beast Tales may perhaps be added as 
 a sixth class ; but most of the examples can be 
 assigned places in one or other of the classes pre- 
 viously named. I will not trouble the reader with a 
 definition of all these classes : it is only necessary for 
 my purpose to explain the first two. 
 
INTRODUCTION. & 
 
 A Saga is a traditional narrative which is believed 
 to be true, and which relates to some definite human 
 person who is held to have really lived, or to some 
 definite locality, or to the power and deeds of some 
 deity or other supernatural being or race of beings. 
 Frequently the human person, the definite locality, 
 and the supernatural beings are all brought together 
 into one Saga ; more usually two only of these 
 elements. But in any case it is essential that the 
 people by or among whom the story is told should 
 have faith in the veritable occurrence of the events 
 related. A Nursery Tale, or Mdrchen (to use the 
 simpler German name), on the other hand, is not 
 believed as an actual narrative of fact. Its hero is 
 quite unknown to history : its scene is not laid at any 
 special place or period. " Once up6n a time, in a 
 certain town or village," is a sufficient description of 
 place and period for the obscure son of a nameless 
 poor widow. Occasionally, it is true, names are fitted 
 to persons and localities. But they are selected at 
 random ; and we hear of Scotland, Norway, France, 
 or Spain, and their kings, not because it is intended 
 to make any assertion concerning those realms and 
 their monarchs to which our credence is asked, but 
 simply to assist the imagination in following the 
 flight of the tale. A Nursery Tale is, like a Saga, a 
 narrative which, for want of a better word, and as 
 opposed to Drolls, or comic tales, we must call 
 
z INTRODUCTION. 
 
 serious ; it usually deals with the supernatural, and 
 its termination is invariably fortunate : Jack must 
 marry the princess, and Cinderella the prince, at last 
 As its name implies, it is a tale told to children. 
 
 A considerable number of English and Welsh folk 
 tales have been collected and written down. But 
 whereas Nursery Tales, or Mdrchen, form a large 
 proportion of the stories found in other countries, 
 those recorded in England are very few, while it 
 is a remarkable fact that not a single mdrchen has 
 been discovered in Wales. By far the greatest 
 number of English and Welsh stories are Sagas. 
 The connection between Sagas and Nursery Tales is 
 very close, in spite of the substantial distinction laid 
 down above. Indeed, so nearly are they related that 
 the same story is frequently told in one place as a 
 Saga about a well-known man, or locality, and in 
 another as a Nursery Tale, without any greater claim 
 upon belief as an account of actual events than the 
 fable of the Fox and the Grapes. Many of the 
 mdrchen of foreign nations assume in this country 
 the form of sagas. What the exact relationship is 
 between these two classes of stories has not yet been 
 determined. Did all these traditional narratives exist 
 first as Sagas ? and did men in the process of time, 
 and in the course of their tribal wanderings, forget 
 the persons and the periods and the places to which 
 properly belonged the incidents they remembered, 
 
INTRODUCTION. xi 
 
 and continue to relate those incidents apart from 
 the names and other particulars ? Or were Nursery 
 Tales the first slow growths of human fancy ? and 
 after they had been floating about on the waves of 
 speech for awhile, did they one after another anchor 
 themselves at different spots and upon various human 
 and superhuman personalities, and thus obtain more 
 or less credit as facts ? Or again, are Sagas and 
 Mdrchen independent, but similar, growths, assuming 
 the one form in one set of circumstances, and the 
 other in a different set? The present state of our 
 knowledge does not admit of a definite answer to 
 these questions. Their solution, if it is ever to be 
 attained, must be wrought out in detail by tracing the 
 history of each story separately. But the determina- 
 tion of the relations of Saga and Mdrchen is not 
 necessary for the consideration of the present prob- 
 lem ; for in any case it is quite clear that both kinds 
 of tradition are of immemorial antiquity. Not only 
 do we find them both fully developed among distant 
 savages, such as the Hottentots and the American 
 Indians, whose grade of civilisation the Aryan races 
 had passed and left behind long ere the dawn of his- 
 tory, but the ancient Egyptians have bequeathed to 
 us stories of the same kind in manuscripts computed 
 by scholars to be at least five thousand years old. 
 And it is quite inconceivable that the Welsh alone of 
 all the earth were destitute of nursery tales. Moreover, 
 
xii INTRODUCTION. 
 
 the form and incidents of more than one of the 
 famous Mabinogion in the Red Book of Hergest are 
 such as to render it highly probable that they have 
 been evolved from miirchen. It is equally inconceiv- 
 able that the Anglo-Saxon race, which produced 
 Beowulf, the Robin Hood ballads, and Chevy Chase, 
 to say nothing of the masterpieces of imaginative litera- 
 ture whose authors we know, should have been poor 
 in those stories which earliest feed the fancy of the 
 child. Why then have these mdrchen disappeared ? 
 
 We can only reply by conjecture. But it must be 
 observed, in the first place, that sagas, by their very 
 nature as pretending to record actual events, have a 
 greater chance of life than stories told only for 
 amusement, and that chiefly the amusement of 
 children. Grown-up men and women forget the 
 latter, or become ashamed of them, and try to believe 
 that they have forgotten them, while they still accept 
 and gravely repeat the former. These they tell to 
 travellers, who write them down for the information 
 of more advanced or more inquisitive peoples. 
 Credulous chroniclers weave them into their narra- 
 tives as authentic history. Preachers discourse on 
 them at large ; and moralists, or simply gossiping 
 writers of anecdotes, use them to illustrate some 
 laboured theme, or drag them in for their very 
 strangeness. In all these ways English and Welsh 
 sagas have become preserved in the amber of litera- 
 
r 
 
 INTROD UCTION. arili 
 
 ture ; and poets, enraptured with their beauty, have 
 rendered many of them imperishable as the mind of 
 man. But to the nursery tale, as such, these avenues 
 of transmission are closed. The continuance of its 
 existence depends upon its popularity with successive 
 generations of mothers and children. If anything 
 occur to diminish or destroy its popularity, it fades 
 out of memory and is no more. True, its separate 
 incidents, or the more striking of them, may retain 
 an independent life by virtue of their hold on the 
 collective imagination of the race. They may be 
 taken up into sagas, or even into other mdrcheny or 
 transformed into drolls; but the tale of which they 
 originally were part vanishes. 
 
 Now, could we suppose that by some means a 
 whole cycle of nursery tales should lose its popularity 
 and thus be lost, we should have exactly the state of 
 things we actually find in Wales, and to a somewhat 
 less extent in England, and perhaps the Lowlands of 
 Scotland. Every other European country possesses 
 an ample store of these narratives ; but few have 
 been recorded in the Scottish Lowlands, fewer still in 
 England, and none at all in Wales. It may of course be 
 said that they have not been sought for. Because they 
 are mostly recounted for the enjoyment of children, 
 who, as they advance in years, outgrow the infantine 
 condition of thought which delights in them, they are 
 less easy of collection. Adults who have not really 
 
xlv INTRODUCTION. 
 
 forgotten them do not care to repeat them except to 
 their children ; and strangers who do not specially 
 seek them, and that with very great tact, do not hear 
 thenx It is no uncommon thing for even an experi- 
 enced collector of folktales to meet with much 
 difficulty in obtaining mdrchen. Although he may 
 find persons willing to communicate their traditional 
 lore, he will not easily make them understand that he 
 can attach any importance to nursery tales, and when 
 he succeeds in doing this his story-tellers will simply 
 suppose that he wants to hear them in order to turn 
 them into ridicule, and will consequently pretend not 
 to know any. It requires, therefore, much patience 
 to extract them, and frequently they are only 
 discovered by accident. Yet, when all this is taken 
 into account, if the Welsh have any mdrclten remain- 
 ing, it is at least odd that none of them have been 
 recorded. We are accordingly driven upon the 
 supposition that they are lost ; and in looking for a 
 cause we must not omit from our consideration tlie 
 partial loss of similar traditions among the English 
 and Scotch. If we can find a cause sufficiently strong 
 common to all three nations, and not operating, or 
 not operating with anything like the same power, 
 among the other European peoples, we shall prob- 
 ably be right in assigning that as the true cause. 
 This is an historical enquiry which cannot be more 
 than summarised here. 
 
INTRODUCTION. xv 
 
 A reason which would occur to most readers is 
 the spread of education, Scotland, since the days of 
 John Knox, has been covered with a noble network 
 of schools, wherein Scottish boys at all events have got 
 the rudiments of literary learning. In England, not- 
 withstanding many valuable foundations, education, 
 even of an elementary kind, has been greatly restricted 
 until the last few years. Yet throughout the country 
 such knowledge as existed among the unlettered 
 classes has been effectual to the destruction of most 
 of the native mdrchen in a somewhat curious manner. 
 Perrault's tales, which achieved in France a popularity 
 so sudden and complete at the end of the seventeenth 
 century, were translated into English, and speedily 
 appeared in the form of chap-books with gaudy 
 covers and coarse woodcuts. These were dissem- 
 inated far and wide ; and Cinderella, Bluebeard, and 
 the rest we know so well, like the young cuckoo in a 
 sparrow's nest, seem to have ousted the proper brood. 
 But in Wales the difference of tongue would have 
 prevented the irruption of these foreign stories. 
 Schools were not absolutely non-existent, but they 
 were very few and poor ; and we cannot lay to their 
 charge the loss of nursery tales. It must be due, 
 therefore, to some other cause, much wider, much 
 more powerful. I find such a cause in the Evangeli- 
 cal Protestantism which has so largely prevailed, 
 not only in the Principality, but also in Scotland and 
 
xvi INTRODUCTION. 
 
 England. Sternly monotheistic, its heroes, and they 
 have been many, have never been exalted into demi- 
 gods, like the saints of the mediaeval Church. Severer 
 in its repression of much of the gaiety of life than 
 any other religion influential in Europe, it has 
 frowned upon all imagination except that of a strictly 
 theological cast ; and it has substituted for the idle 
 tales of tradition the more edifying and veracious 
 histories of Noah, Jacob, and Samson. This is a 
 process which has been going on in England and 
 Scotland since the Reformation. In the latter 
 kingdom it was perhaps weakened by the cessation 
 of active religious propagandism down to the early 
 years of the present century, owing to the almost 
 entire absence of Nonconformity. In England, where 
 Nonconformity has always existed, the process has 
 been continuously more or less active, and doubtless 
 under its influence the obliteration of mdrchen from 
 the popular memory had already begun before the 
 introduction of the translations from Perrault's work. 
 Since the Act of Uniformity, Wales, too, has never 
 been without Nonconformists; but, especially in 
 North Wales, their numbers were insignificant until 
 the rise of Methodism under the preaching of Howel 
 Harries and his coadjutors. At that time a religious 
 revival similar to, but proportionately much greater 
 than, that which was taking place in England 
 shook the Principality from end to end. It had an 
 
INTRODUCTION. rrA 
 
 immediate and important effect on the manners of all 
 but the highest classes. Nor was it only the manners 
 which were affected. It is no exaggeration to say 
 that the whole current of a nation's thoughts was 
 changed. Sermons were substituted for football, and 
 religious meetings for drunken bouta Those who 
 could read read the Bible to their neighbours ; 
 spiritual concerns drew men together and formed the 
 staple subject of their talk. Nor was this a passing 
 phasa The clergy, a great number of whom, intruded 
 into their cures from England, were utterly ignorant 
 of the language, cared not for the salvation of souls. 
 Their duties were performed in the most perfunctory 
 manner ; and they gladly escaped from the pulpit to 
 *^'the alehouse, from sacred rite to rustic sport Harries, 
 Williams, and Rowlands, the fathers of the Welsh 
 Methodist revival, were men of another type. Sab- 
 bath-breaking, drunkenness, and swearing they could 
 not away with ; and dancing and the village games 
 seemed scarcely less evil to them, in the face of the 
 awful realities of life and death. They could not 
 afford to let their converts slip back into these 
 sinful practices ; and they accordingly formed them 
 everywhere into societies whose moral code, as well 
 as their orthodoxy, was of the narrowest and 
 most rigid description. Their teaching and example 
 quickened the faltering faith of kindred religious 
 bodies, and assured the overwhelming predominance 
 
xviii INTRODUCTION. 
 
 of Protestant Nonconformity. In England, Whit- 
 field, Wesley, and the other leaders of the evangelical 
 movement were actuated by the same lofty motives 
 and pursued the same policy, though with more 
 partial success. The general result was beyond 
 all question beneficial. Apart from the effect for 
 which these earnest men looked and prayed — namely, 
 the salvation of souls — civilisation made a great 
 stride. Open immorality was suppressed ; brutalising 
 sports, such as cock-fighting, and other sorts of 
 ruffianism, were discountenanced. Men began to 
 have ideals of which not physical, but moral and 
 spiritual, force was the distinctive mark. 
 
 In such a movement it was inevitable that many 
 of the old popular traditions should be crushed. 
 The heart of the movement was the Bible ; and the 
 enthusiasm of the early Christians against classic 
 heathenism seemed to be revived and directed against 
 everything which did not savour of the Bible and 
 things divine. The ignoranct which had hitherto 
 enwrapped the peasantry began to be lifted ; but the 
 light that fell upon them was only that of theological 
 speculation and Scripture narrative. A careful quest 
 among the writings of the Fathers of Methodism — 
 perhaps of other Dissenters — would probably reveal 
 condemnation repeatedly directed against lewd songs 
 and " old wives' fables," The tendency at any rate 
 of their teaching is unmistakable. But we must not 
 
INTRODUCTION. jdx 
 
 forget that they themselves were extremely cre- 
 dulous. John Wesley's diary teems with ghost 
 stories, stories of miraculous interpositions of Pro- 
 vidence, and so forth, in all of which he placed the 
 most implicit faith. His fellow-workers, both in 
 England and Wales, were to the full as trustful. 
 Hence they would readily accept soma sorts of folk- 
 tales. Nay, the imagination would be quickened 
 in certain directions under the influence of powerful 
 religious emotion ; and sagas of corpse-candles and 
 of evil spirits, whether ghost or devil, would become 
 doubly dreadful. But stories untouched by the 
 prevailing impulse, or which afforded no arguments 
 in favour of a preacher's doctrine, would naturally 
 recede from view and be lost ; while if any were 
 condemned as idle or sinful they would cease to be 
 repeated by those who attached any importance to 
 the condemnation. Now, nursery tales are treasured 
 chiefly by women, for to their lot it usually falls to 
 narrate them to their little charges. But women are 
 peculiarly susceptible to religious feelings; and if such 
 stories were obnoxious to those whom they were 
 accustomed to reverence as spiritual guides, there can 
 be little doubt what the result would be. 
 
 The influence of such teaching would last as long 
 as the religious belief which called it forth retained 
 any hold upon the popular mind ; and its prohibitions 
 would be extended to every sort of fiction, though 
 
XX INTRODUCTION. 
 
 they might be modified in course of time. Within 
 my own knowledge, however, and doubtless within 
 the recollection of many of my readers, in England 
 the narration of nursery tales to children has been 
 discouraged, and, in some cases, forbidden, for reasons 
 in no wise diflfering from those I have indicated. 
 This is a subject on which no statistics can be made 
 available ; but I suspect that these objections to 
 mdrchen have been very widespread. And they have 
 been unquestionably reinforced by the discoveries of 
 the past century in physical science and by the 
 popularisation of knowledge. For many years the 
 voice of well-meaning persons has been heard in the 
 land exhorting mothers to feed their babes on the 
 milk of science and the bread of fact, and not to fill 
 young minds with fairy tales which are not true and 
 can do no good to them. It is a matter of thankful- 
 ness that these tedious beings are no longer listened 
 to as they were a generation ago, and that they 
 scarcely penetrated into Wales or into the remote 
 country districts of England and Scotland. Children 
 there were always bred up on stories from the Bible 
 and sagas of elves and goblins, ghosts and corpse- 
 candles. Facts such as these (and they were all 
 looked upon as equally authentic) cultivated the 
 imagination, and thus preserved for us many precious 
 fragments of old-world thought. 
 
 To the foregoing reasons must be attributed, I 
 
INTROD UCTION, xxi 
 
 think, the large preponderance of sagas among the 
 folktales of this country. A collection like the 
 present, though it aims to be representative, may 
 perhaps be found to contain a proportion of sagas 
 great even beyond the proportion of such tales actu- 
 ally extant For not only does its plan exclude the 
 familiar adaptations of nursery tales from Perrault 
 and other French collections, but sagas are in them- 
 selves of greater interest than any other class of 
 folktales except mdrchen, and are therefore more 
 frequently the subjects of literary reproduction. 
 Probably, however, none but scientific students will 
 be concerned with the disproportion here hinted at; 
 and, after all, it may be replied that this volume is 
 not intended — mainly, at all events — for them. It 
 is addressed rather to readers whose interest has yet 
 to be enlisted in the fairy tales of science — of that 
 science which is the Science of Fairy Tales. For such 
 readers a few of the traditions of their fatherland may 
 perhaps be found a not inappropriate introduction. 
 
 That which is chiefly interesting in all these stories 
 is the question of their real origin and meaning. There 
 are some readers who, though not scientific students, 
 cannot be satisfied without some sort of an explana- 
 tion, some " philosophy," as they are pleased to term 
 it, of the stories. To such I might recommend the 
 plan adopted by several of the philosophers of 
 antiquity, and weighted amongst moderns by the 
 
xxii INTRODUCTION. 
 
 authority of the great writer of The Instauration of 
 the Sciences. It is also the plan of the monkish 
 compilers of the Gesta Romanorum, who fitted their 
 stories with long-winded "applications," as if they 
 were expositions of moral and theological truth, 
 veiled by parable. The advantage of this mode of 
 exposition is that you are not at all concerned with 
 what the people who first told the story meant, or 
 how they came to tell it All that need be done is 
 to consider how you can exhibit your own ingenuity 
 by reading into the tale any meaning — preferably 
 an ethical one — that may happen to suit your taste. 
 Those who have the privilege of listening to the 
 sermons of some theologians know the process. 
 
 Theorists like Professor Max Miiller and his dis- 
 ciples cannot be put on even terms with clever people 
 of this kind, because they profess to tell just what the 
 others do not trouble about — namely, the origin and 
 true meaning of these tales. It does, however, seem 
 a pity they should hamper themselves by assuming 
 such a regard for facts. For in truth they have a 
 fine imagination, and it would be difficult to find 
 in recent English literature more picturesque, more 
 glowing passages than ajre to be met with in descrip- 
 tions of the sun-hero or the dawn-maiden and their 
 various adventures, as seen through the spectacles 
 of the Aryan philologists. 
 
 He must be hard to please who cannot content 
 
INTRODUCTION. xxiii 
 
 himself with one or other of these modes of interpre- 
 tation : he can deserve nothing better than to be 
 condemned to seek truth by the hard and pitiless 
 process of scientific investigation. That is what 
 real students of folk-lore are doing. Discarding 
 ethical and literary prejudices, they strive first of all 
 to track custom, superstition, tale, or song back to its 
 earliest form and to discover its analogues wherever 
 they can find them. Next, they inquire what inter- 
 pretation, if any, do the people among whom the 
 custom, the superstition, the tale, or the song is rife 
 put on it ; what is their habit of thought, degree of 
 civilisation, previous history ; and what can we learn 
 by comparing the customs, superstitions, etc., of 
 nations in a similar condition. In these inquiries 
 special stress is laid on the principle that Tradition is 
 one and indivisible. Custom cannot be studied apart 
 from superstition, nor superstition from tale or song. 
 All are inseparably connected, for all go to form one 
 whole, which is the general body of culture possessed 
 by a nation, or, as it may happen, by a given class 
 within a nation. No doubt this is very laborious, 
 very dry perchance, when contrasted with the methods 
 expounded in The Wisdom, of tJie Ancients and The 
 Mythology of the Aryan Nations. But how fruitful 
 of results has it been ! In the hands of men like 
 Tylor, Maclennan, Lang, and Gomme, it has taught 
 us more about the real thoughts and practices, not 
 
xxiv INTRODUCTION. 
 
 merely of savage tribes, but of our own forefathers, 
 than we ever knew before. We are learning gradually 
 what kind of men our forefathers were, how they 
 really looked at the world, what was their social 
 and economic organisation, what were their religious 
 beliefs, and in what manner all these have been 
 gradually modified and developed, or else have 
 dwindled and decayed, down to the present 
 time. The fairy tales now presented to the reader 
 are survivals from a period when the supernatural 
 beings therein depicted, and the wonderful powers 
 wielded either by them or by mortals, were a vital 
 part of the belief, and exercised daily and hourly 
 influence on the sayings and doings, of everybody — 
 even as similar creeds do on the barbarous tribes in 
 every quarter of the globe to-day. They were part 
 and parcel of a social and intellectual condition which 
 has passed, or is rapidly passing, away everywhere. 
 But behind this social and intellectual condition our 
 inquiries are leading us to the psychological problems 
 involved. Why did men believe in witchcraft and 
 totems, fairies and giants, gods and devils? Why 
 did they practise animal, and even human sacrifice, 
 the couvade, infant baptism, initiatory rites on attain- 
 ing manhood ? What is the meaning of their funeral 
 ceremonies? of their marriage laws? of the extra- 
 ordinary variety of regulations affecting social inter- 
 course? What mode of reasoning drew them to 
 
INTRODUCTION. xxv 
 
 these and a thousand other beliefs and practices? 
 and why were they led to these rather than to quite 
 different ones ? 
 
 Here I can do no more than indicate in this feeble 
 and general way the vastness and fruitfulness of the 
 field laid open by the scientific method of investiga- 
 tion of the phenomena of Tradition. To attempt an 
 answer to these questions is not my present task. If 
 I have succeeded in awakening the reader's interest 
 in the subject, the writings of the distinguished men 
 just referred to, and of other anthropologists, and the 
 works issued by the Folk-lore Society, will not fail to 
 reward him with that true pleasure which the really 
 earnest and scientific study of any subject always 
 gives. And that is, above all, the pleasure that he 
 who has once tasted it must wish for every one 
 whom he desires to benefit. 
 
 I have to acknowledge with many thanks the kind 
 permission given me by the Council of the Folk-lore 
 Society to include several stories from volumes of 
 their publications, and the very ready courtesy of 
 Messrs. Chatto & Windus, to whom I am indebted 
 for liberty to make numerous extracts from the late 
 Mr. R. Hunt's Popular Romances of the West of 
 England. That book is by far the fullest collection 
 of English traditions ; and although the author 
 thought it necessary to give a literary clothing to his 
 tales, they may nevertheless be regarded as in their 
 
xxvi INTR on UCTION, 
 
 main lines genuine. The Popular Romances has 
 indeed long been recognised as invaluable to the 
 student, and full of interest and amusement to all. 
 It would also be unpardonable if I failed to mention 
 the generous interest taken in this volume by- 
 Miss Burne, the enthusiastic author of Shropshire 
 Folk-lore^ and queen of English folk-lore collectors. 
 To her I owe several valuable suggestions, as well 
 as some of the best stories. I have also to thank 
 Messrs. Geo. Bell & Sons for their hearty response 
 to my application to be allowed to make such large 
 use of Keightlcy's Fairy Mythology; Mr. Merton C. 
 Thoms and the Right Hon. Sir Chas. W. Dilke, 
 Bart, for permission to insert stories from Choice 
 Notes; and Mr. Joseph Cowen for a similar permission 
 in regard to the Monthly Chronicle of North-Country 
 Lore and Legend. No greater service could be 
 rendered to students than to compile a continuation 
 of Choice Notes from the folk-lore lying scattered 
 about the pages of the second and subsequent series 
 of Notes and Queries. Can not some one be found 
 with sufficient energy and love for the science to 
 doit? 
 
 Barnwood Court, Gloucester. 
 
ENGLISH FAIRY AND OTHER 
 FOLK TALES. 
 
NURSERY TALES, 
 
jenalisb jfolFi anb fair^ tlalee. 
 
 NURSERY TALES. 
 
 JACK THE GIANT-KILLER.1 
 
 In the reign of King Arthur, there Uved in the county 
 of Cornwall, near the Land's End of England, a 
 wealthy farmer who had one only son called Jack. He 
 was brisk and of a ready lively wit, so that whatever he 
 could not perform by force and strength he completed 
 by ingenious wit and policy. Never was any person heard 
 of that could worst him, and he very often even baffled the 
 learned by his sharp and ready invention. 
 
 In those days the Mount of Cornwall was kept by a huge 
 and monstrous giant of eighteen feet in height, and about 
 three yards in compass, of a fierce and grim countenance, 
 the terror of all the neighbouring towns and villages. 
 He lived in a cave in the midst of the Mount, and 
 would not suffer any one else to live near him. His 
 food was other men's cattle, which often became 
 his prey, for whensoever he wanted food he would wade 
 
 ^ Collated from sundry Chap-books. (Newcastle-on-Tyne, 1711-183$.) 
 
4 ENGLISH FOLK 
 
 over to the main-land, where he would furnish himself 
 with whatever came in his way. The good folk, at his 
 approach, forsook their habitations, while he seized on their 
 cattle, making nothing of carrying half-a-dozen oxen on his 
 back at a time ; and as for their sheep and hogs, he would 
 tie them round his waist like a bunch of bandeleirs. This 
 course he had followed for many years, so that all Cornwall 
 was impoverished by his depredations. 
 
 One day Jack, happening to be present at the town hall 
 when the magistrates were sitting in council about the 
 giant, asked what reward would be given to the person 
 who destroyed him. The giant's treasure, they said, was the 
 recompense. Quoth Jack, " Then let me undertake it" 
 
 So he furnished himself with a horn, shovel, and 
 pickaxe, and went over to the Mount in the beginning 
 of a dark winter's evening, when he fell to work, and 
 before morning had dug a pit twenty-two feet deep, and 
 nearly as broad, covering it over with long sticks and straw. 
 Then strewing a little mould upon it, it appeared like plain 
 ground. This completed. Jack placed himself on the con- 
 trary side of the pit, fartherest from the giant's lodging, and, 
 just at the break of day, he put the horn to his mouth, and 
 blew, Tantivy, Tantivy. This unexpected noise aroused 
 the giant, who rushed from his cave, crying : " You incor- 
 rigible villain, are you come here to disturb my rest ? You 
 shall pay dearly for this. Satisfaction I will have, and this 
 it shall be, I will take you whole and broil you for break- 
 fast," which he had no sooner uttered, than tumbling into 
 the pit, he made the very foundations of the Mount to 
 shake. " Oh, giant," quoth Jack, " where are you now ? 
 Oh faith, you are gotten now into Lob's Pound, where I 
 will surely plague you for your threatening words : what do 
 you think now of broiling me for your breakfast? Will 
 
AND FAIRY TALES. 5 
 
 no other diet serve you but poor Jack?" Thus having 
 tantalised the giant for a while, he gave him a most weighty 
 knock with his pickaxe on the very crown of his head, and 
 killed him on the spot. 
 
 This done, Jack filled up the pit with earth, and went to 
 search the cave, which he found contained much treasure. 
 When the magistrates heard of this, they made a declaration 
 he should henceforth be termed Jack the Giant-Killer, and 
 presented him with a sword and an embroidered belt, on 
 which were written these words in letters of gold — 
 
 " Here's the right valiant Cornish man, 
 Who slew the giant Cormelian." 
 
 The news of Jack's victory soon spread over all the West 
 of England, so that another giant, named Blunderbore, 
 hearing of it, vowed to be revenged on the little hero, if 
 ever it was his fortune to light on him. This giant was the 
 lord of an enchanted castle situated in the midst of a lone- 
 some wood. Now Jack, about four months afterwards, 
 walking near this wood in his journey to Wales, being 
 weary, seated himself near a pleasant fountain and fell fast 
 asleep. While he was enjoying his repose, the giant, coming 
 for water, there discovered him, and knew him to be the 
 far-famed Jack, by the lines written on the belt Without 
 ado, he took Jack on his shoulders and carried him towards 
 his enchanted castle. Now, as they passed through a thicket, 
 the rustling of the boughs awakened Jack, who was strangely 
 surprised to find himself in the clutches of the giant. His 
 terror was not yet begun, for on entering the castle, he saw 
 the ground strewed with human bones, the giant telling 
 him his own would ere long increase them. After this the 
 giant locked poor Jack in an immense chamber, leaving 
 him there while he went to fetch another giant living in the 
 
 3 
 
6 ENGLISH FOLK 
 
 same wood to share in Jack's destruction. While he was 
 gone, dreadful shrieks and lamentations affrighted Jack, 
 especially a voice which continually cried — 
 
 " Do what you can to get away, 
 
 Or you'll become the giant's prey ; 
 He's gone to fetch his brother, who 
 Will kill, likewise devour you too." 
 
 This dreadful noise had almost distracted Jack, who, 
 going to the window, beheld afar off the two giants coming 
 towards the castle. "Now," quoth Jack to himself, "my 
 death or my deliverance is at hand." Now, there were strong 
 cords in a corner of the room in which Jack was, and two 
 of these he took, and made a strong noose at the end ; 
 and while the giants were unlocking the iron gate of the 
 castle he threw the ropes over each of their heads. Then 
 drawing the other ends across a beam, and pulling with all 
 his might, he throttled them. Then, seeing they were black 
 in the face, and sliding down the rope, he came to their 
 heads, when they could not defend themselves, and drawing 
 his sword, slew them both. Then, taking the giant's keys, 
 and unlocking the rooms, he found three fair ladies tied by 
 the hair of their heads, almost starved to death. " Sweet 
 ladies," quoth Jack, ** I have destroyed this monster and his 
 brutish brother, and obtained your liberties." This said, he 
 presented them with the keys, and so proceeded on his 
 journey to Wales. Having but little money, Jack found it 
 well to make the best of his way by travelling as fast 
 as he could, but losing his road, he was benighted, and 
 could not get a place of entertainment until, coming into a 
 narrow valley, he found a large house, and by reason of his 
 present needs took courage to knock at the gate. But what 
 was his surprise when there came forth a monstrous giant 
 
AND FAIRY TALES. 7 
 
 with two heads ; yet he did not appear so fiery as the others 
 were, for he was a Welsh giant, and what he did was by 
 private and secret malice under the false show of friend- 
 ship. Jack, having told his condition to the giant, was 
 shown into a bedroom, where, in the dead of night, he 
 heard his host in another apartment muttering these 
 words — 
 
 " Though here you lodge with me this night, 
 You shall not see the morning light : 
 My club shall dash your brains outright I" 
 
 "Sa/st thou so," quoth Jack; "that is like one of your 
 Welsh tricks, yet I hope to be cunning enough for you." 
 Then, getting out of bed, he laid a billet in the bed in his 
 stead, and hid himself in a corner of the room. At the 
 dead time of the night in came the Welsh giant, who 
 struck several heavy blows on the bed with his club, think- 
 ing he had broken every bone in Jack's skin. The next 
 morning Jack, laughing in his sleeve, gave him hearty 
 thanks for his night's lodging. " How have you rested?" 
 quoth the giant ; " did you not feel anything in the night ? " 
 " No," quoth Jack, " nothing but a rat, which gave me two 
 or three slaps with her tail" With that, greatly wondering, 
 the giant led Jack to breakfast, bringing him a bowl con- 
 taining four gallons of hasty pudding. Being loath to let 
 the giant think it too much for him, Jack put a large leather 
 bag under his loose coat, in such a way that he could 
 convey the pudding into it without its being perceived. 
 Then, telling the giant he would show him a trick, taking a 
 knife. Jack ripped open the bag, and out came all the hasty 
 pudding. Whereupon, saying, "Odds splutters, hur can 
 do that trick hurself," the monster took the knife, and 
 ripping open his belly, fell down dead. 
 
8 ENGLISH FOLK 
 
 Now, it fell in these days that King Arthur's only son 
 requested his father to furnish him with a large sum of 
 money, in order that he might go and seek his fortune in 
 the principality of Wales, where lived a beautiful lady 
 possessed with seven evil spirits. The king did his best 
 to persuade his son from it, but in vain; so at last 
 granted the request, and the prince set out with two horses, 
 one loaded with money, the other for himself to ride upon. 
 Now, after several days' travel, he came to a market-town 
 in Wales, where he beheld a vast concourse of people 
 gathered together. The prince demanded the reason of it, 
 and was told that they had arrested a corpse for several 
 large sums of money which the deceased owed when he 
 died. The prince replied that it was a pity creditors should 
 be so cruel, and said, " Go bury the dead, and let his 
 creditors come to my lodging, and there their debts shall 
 be discharged." They accordingly came, but in such great 
 numbers that before night he had almost left himself 
 moneyless. 
 
 Now Jack the Giant-Killer, coming that way, was so 
 taken with the generosity of the prince, that he desired to 
 be his servant This being agreed upon, the next morning 
 they set forward on their journey together, when, as they 
 were riding out of the town, an old woman called after the 
 prince, saying, "He has owed me twopence these seven 
 years; pray pay me as well as the rest." Putting his 
 hand to his pocket, the prince gave the woman all he had 
 left, so that after their day's refreshment, which cost what 
 small spell Jack had by him, they were without a penny 
 between them. When the sun began to grow low, the 
 king's son said, "Jack, since we have no money, where 
 can we lodge this night?" But Jack replied, "Master, 
 we'll do well enough, for I have an uncle lives within 
 
AND FAIRY TALES. 9 
 
 two miles of this place ; he is a huge and monstrous giant 
 with lliree heads ; he'll fight five hundred men in armour, 
 and make them to fly before him." "Alas!" quoth the 
 prince, "what shall we do there? He'll certainly chop us 
 up at a mouthful. Nay, we are scarce enough to fill one of 
 his hollow teeth ! " " It is no matter for that," quoth Jack ; 
 "I myself will go before and prepare the way for you; 
 therefore tarry and wait till I return." Jack then rode 
 away full speed, and coming to the gate of the castle, he 
 knocked so loud that he made the neighbouring hills 
 resound. The giant roared out at this Uke thunder, 
 "Who's there?" He was answered, " None but your poor 
 Cousin JacL" Quoth he, "What news with my poor 
 Cousin Jack?" He replied, "Dear uncle, heavy news, 
 God wot ! " " Prithee," quoth the giant, " what heavy news 
 can come to me? I am a giant with three heads, and 
 besides thou knowest I can fight five hundred men in 
 armour, and make them fly like chaff before the wind." 
 "Oh, but," quoth Jack, "here's the king's son a-coming 
 with a thousand men in armour to kill you and destroy all 
 that you have 1 " " Oh, Cousin Jack," said the giant, " this 
 is heavy news indeed! I will immediately run and hide 
 myself, and thou shalt lock, bolt, and bar me in, and 
 keep the keys until the prince is gone." Having secured 
 the giant, Jack fetched his master, when they made them- 
 selves heartily merry whilst the poor giant laid trembling 
 in a vault under the ground. 
 
 Early in the morning Jack furnished his master with a 
 fresh supply of gold and silver, and then sent him three 
 miles forward on his journey, at which time the prince 
 was pretty well out of the smell of the giant Jack 
 then returned, and let the giant out of the vault, who 
 asked what he should give him for keeping the castle 
 
lo ENGLISH FOLK 
 
 from destruction. " Why," quoth Jack, " I desire 
 nothing but the old coat and cap, together wiih the 
 old rusty sword and slippers which are at your bed's 
 head." Quoth the giant, "Thou shalt have them; and 
 pray keep them for my sake, for they are things of 
 excellent use. The coat will keep you invisible, the cap 
 will furnish you with knowledge, the sword cuts asunder 
 whatever you strike, and the shoes are of extraordinary 
 swiftness. These may be serviceable to you, therefore take 
 them with all my heart." Taking them. Jack thanked his 
 uncle, and then having overtaken his master, they quickly 
 arrived at the house of the lady the prince sought, who, 
 finding the prince to be a suitor, prepared a splendid 
 banquet for him. After the repast was concluded, she 
 wiped his mouth with a handkerchief, saying, " You must 
 show me that handkerchief to-morrow morning, or else you 
 will lose your head." With that she put it in her bosom. 
 The prince went to bed in great sorrow, but Jack's cap of 
 knowledge instructed him how it was to be obtained. In 
 the middle of the night she called upon her familiar spirit 
 to carry her to Lucifer. But Jack put on his coat of dark- 
 ness and his shoes of swiftness, and was there as soon as 
 her. When she entered the place of the evil one, she gave 
 the handkerchief to old Lucifer, who laid it upon a shelf, 
 whence Jack took it and brought it to his master, who 
 showed it to the lady the next day, and so saved his life. 
 On that day, she saluted the prince, telling him he must 
 show her the lips to-morrow morning that she kissed last 
 night, or lose his head. " Ah," he replied, " if you kiss none 
 but mine, I will." " That is neither here nor there," said 
 she ; " if you do not, death's your portion ! " At midnight 
 she went as before, and was angry with old Lucifer for 
 letting the handkerchief go. " But now," quoth she, •* I 
 
AND FAIRY TALES. ii 
 
 will be too hard for the king's son, for I will kiss thee, and 
 he is to show me thy lips." Which she did, and Jack, who 
 was standing by, cut off the devil's head and brought it 
 under his invisible coat to his master, who the next morn- 
 ing pulled it out by the horns before the lady. Thus broke, 
 the enchantment and the evil spirit left her, and she 
 appeared in all her beauty. They were married the next 
 morning, and soon after went to the court of King Arthur, 
 where Jack, for his many great exploits, was made one of 
 the Knights of the Round Table. 
 
 Having been successful in all his undertakings. Jack 
 resolved not to remain idle, but to perform what services 
 he could for the honour of his king and country, and 
 besought King Arthur to fit him out with a horse and 
 money to enable him to travel in search of strange and 
 new adventures. "For," said he, "there are many giants 
 yet living in the remotest part of Wales, to the unspeakable 
 damage of your majesty's liege subjects ; wherefore, may it 
 please you to encourage me, I do not doubt but in a short 
 time to cut them oflF root and branch, and so rid all the 
 realm of those giants and monsters of nature." When the 
 king had heard this noble request, he furnished Jack with 
 all necessaries, and Jack started on his pursuit, taking with 
 him the cap of knowledge, sword of sharpness, shoes of 
 swiftness, and invisible coat, the better to complete the 
 dangerous enterprises which now lay before him. 
 
 Jack travelled over vast hills and wonderful mountains, 
 and on the third day came to a large wood, which he had 
 no Sooner entered than he heard dreadful shrieks and cries. 
 Casting his eyes round, he beheld with terror a huge giant 
 dragging along a fair lady and a knight by the hair of their 
 heads, with as much ease as if they had been a pair of 
 gloves. At this sight Jack shed tears of pity, and then, 
 
13 ENGLISH FOLK 
 
 alighting from his horse, he put on his invisible coat, and 
 taking with him his sword of sharpness, at length with a 
 swinging stroke cut off both the giant's legs below the 
 knee, so that his fall made the trees to tremble. At this 
 the courteous knight and his fair lady, after returning Jack 
 their hearty thanks, invited him home, there to refresh his 
 strength after the frightful encounter, and receive some 
 ample reward for his good services. But Jack vowed he 
 would not rest until he had found out the giant's den. The 
 knight, hearing this, was very sorrowful, and replied, " Noble 
 stranger, it is too much to run a second risk ; this monster 
 lived in a den under yonder mountain, with a brother more 
 fierce and fiery than himself. Therefore, if you should go 
 thither, and perish in the attempt, it would be a heart- 
 breaking to me and my lady. Let me persuade you to go 
 with us, and desist from any further pursuit" " Nay," 
 quoth Jack, '* were there twenty, not one should escape my 
 fury. But when I have finished my task, I will come and 
 pay my respects to you." 
 
 Jack had not ridden more than a mile and a hal^ when 
 the cave mentioned by the knight appeared to view, near the 
 entrance of which he beheld the giant sitting upon a block 
 of timber, with a knotted iron club by his side, waiting, 
 as he supposed, for his brother's return with his barbarous 
 prey. His goggle eyes were like flames of fire, his coun- 
 tenance grim and ugly, and his cheeks like a couple of 
 large flitches of bacon, while the bristles of his beard 
 resembled rods of iron wire, and the locks that hung down 
 upon his brawny shoulders were like curled snakes or hissing 
 adders. Jack alighted from his horse, and, putting on the 
 coat of darkness, approached near the giant, and said softly, 
 " Oh ! are you there ? It will not be long ere I shall take 
 you fast by the beard." The giant all this while could not 
 
AND FAIRY TALES, 13 
 
 see him, on account of his invisible coat, so that Jack, 
 coming up close to the monster, struck a blow with his 
 sword at his head, but, missing his aim, he cut off the nose 
 instead. At this, the giant roared like claps of thunder, 
 and began to lay about him with his iron club like one stark 
 mad. But Jack, running behind, drove his sword up to 
 the hilt in the giant's back, which caused him to fall down 
 dead. This done. Jack cut off the' giant's head, and sent it, 
 with his brother's head also, to King Arthur, by a waggoner 
 he hired for that purpose. 
 
 Jack now resolved to enter the giants* cave in search of 
 his treasure, and, passing along through a great many wind- 
 ings and turnings, he came at length to a large room paved 
 with freestone, at the upper end of which was a boiling 
 caldron, and on the right hand a large table, at which the 
 giants used to dine. Then he came to a window, barred 
 with iron, through which he looked and beheld a vast of 
 miserable captives, who, seeing him, cried out, " Alas ! 
 young man, art thou come to be one amongst us in this 
 miserable den?" "Ay," quoth Jack, "but pray tell me 
 what is the meaning of your captivity ? " " We are kept 
 here," said one, " till such time as the giants have a wish to 
 feast, and then the fattest among us is slaughtered ! And 
 many are the times they have dined upon murdered men ! " 
 " Say you so," quoth Jack, and straightway unlocked the 
 gate and let them free, who all rejoiced like condemned 
 malefactors at sight of a reprieve. Then searching the 
 giants' coffers, he shared the gold and silver equally amongst 
 them. 
 
 It was about sunrise the next day when Jack, after seeing 
 the captives on their way to their respective places of abode, 
 mounted his horse to proceed on his journey, and, by the 
 help of his directions, reached the knight's house about 
 
14 ENGLISH FOLK 
 
 noon. He was received here with all demonstrations of 
 joy by the knight and his lady, who in an honourable 
 respect to Jack prepared a feast which lasted many days, 
 all the gentry in the neighbourhood being of the company. 
 The worthy knight was likewise pleased to present him 
 with a beautiful ring, on which was engraved a picture of 
 the giant dragging the distressed knight and his lady, with 
 this motto — 
 
 " We are in sad distress, you see, 
 Under a giant's fierce command, 
 But gain our lives and liberty 
 
 By valiant Jack's victorious hand." 
 
 But in the midst of all this mirth a messenger brought 
 the dismal tidings that one Thunderdell, a giant with two 
 heads, having heard of the death of his two kinsmen, came 
 from the northern dales to be revenged on Jack, and was 
 within a mile of the knight's seat, the country people flying 
 before him like chaff. But Jack was no whit daunted, and 
 said, " Let him come ! I have a tool to pick his teeth ; and 
 you, ladies and gentlemen, walk but forth into the garden, 
 and you shall witness this giant Thunderdell's death and 
 destruction." 
 
 The situation of this knight's house was in the midst of a 
 small island encompassed with a moat thirty feet deep and 
 twenty feet wide, over which lay a drawbridge. Wherefore 
 Jack employed men to cut through this bridge on both 
 sides, nearly to the middle; and then, dressing himself 
 in his invisible coat, he marched against the giant with 
 his sword of sharpness. Although the giant could not 
 see Jack, he smelt his approach, and cried out in these 
 words — 
 
AND FAIRY TALES. 15 
 
 *• Fee, fi, fo, fum ! 
 
 I smell the blood of an English man 1 
 Be he alive or be he dead, 
 I'll grind his bones to make me bread I " 
 
 '* Sa/st thou so," said Jack ; " then thou art a monstrous 
 miller indeed." At which the giant cried out again, " Art 
 thou that villain who killed my kinsmen ? Then I will tear 
 thee with my teeth, suck thy blood, and grind thy bones to 
 powder." "You will catch me first," quoth Jack, and 
 throwing off his invisible coat, so that the giant might see 
 him, and putting on his shoes of swiftness, he ran from the 
 giant, who followed like a walking castle, so that the very 
 foundations of the earth seemed to shake at every step. 
 Jack led him a long dance, in order that the gentlemen 
 and ladies might see; and at last, to end the matter, ran 
 lightly over the drawbridge, the giant, in full speed, pursu- 
 ing him with his club. Then, coming to the middle of the 
 bridge, the giant's great weight broke it down, and he 
 tumbled headlong into the water, where he rolled and 
 wallowed like a whale. Jack, standing by the moat, laughed 
 at him all the while ; but though the giant foamed to hear 
 him scofl^ and plunged from place to place in the moat, yet 
 he could not get out to be revenged. Jack at length got a 
 cart-rope and cast it over the two heads of the giant, and 
 drew him ashore by a team of horses, and then cut off both 
 his heads with his sword of sharpness, and sent them to 
 King Arthur. 
 
 After some time spent in mirth and pastime, Jack, taking 
 leave of the knights and ladies, set out for new adventures. 
 Through many woods he passed, and came at length to the 
 foot of a high mountain. Here, late at night, he found a 
 lonesome house, and knocked at the door, which was opened 
 by an ancient man with a head as white as snow. " Father," 
 
i6 ENGLISH FOLK 
 
 said Jack, " have you entertainment for a benighted traveller 
 that has lost his way ? " " Yes," said the old man \ " you 
 are right welcome to my poor cottage." Whereupon Jack 
 entered, and down they sat together, and the old man 
 began to discourse as follows : — " Son, I am sensible you are 
 the great conqueror of giants, and behold, my son, on the 
 top of this mountain is an enchanted castle, maintained by 
 a giant named Galligantus, who, by the help of an old con- 
 jurer, betrays many knights and ladies into his castle, where 
 by magic art they are transformed into sundry shapes and 
 forms ; but, above all, I lament the misfortune of a duke's 
 daughter, whom they fetched from her father's garden, 
 carrying her through the air in a burning chariot drawn by 
 fiery dragons, when they secured her within the castle, and 
 transformed her into the shape of a white hind. And 
 though many knights have tried to break the enchantment, 
 and work her deliverance, yet no one could accomplish it, on 
 account of two dreadful griffins which are placed at the castle 
 gate, and which destroy every one who comes near. But 
 you, my son, being furnished with an invisible coat, may 
 pass by them undiscovered, where on the gates of the castle 
 you will find engraven in large letters by what means the 
 enchantment may be broken." The old man having ended, 
 Jack gave him his hand, and promised that in the morning 
 he would venture his life to free the lady. 
 
 In the morning Jack arose and put on his invisible coat 
 and magic cap and shoes, and prepared himself for the 
 enterprise. Now, when he had reached the top of the 
 mountain he soon discovered the two fiery griffins, but 
 passed them without fear, because of his invisible coat. 
 When he had got beyond them, he found upon the gates 
 of the castle a golden trumpet hung by a silver chain, 
 under which these lines were engraved — 
 
AND FAIRY TALES. 17 
 
 " Whoever shall this trumpet blow, 
 Shall soon the giant overthrow, 
 And break the black enchantment straight ; 
 So all shall be in happy state." 
 
 Jack had no sooner read this but he blew the trumpet, 
 at which the castle trembled to its vast foundations, and 
 the giant and conjurer were in horrid confusion, biting their 
 thumbs and tearing their hair, knowing their wicked reign 
 was at an end. Then the giant stooping to take up his 
 club, Jack at one blow cut off his head ; whereupon the 
 conjurer, mounting up into the air, was carried away in a 
 whirlwind. Thus was the enchantment broken, and all the 
 lords and ladies who had so long been transformed into 
 birds and beasts returned to their proper shapes, and the 
 castle vanished away in a cloud of smoke. This being 
 done, the head of Galligantus was likewise, in the 
 accustomed manner, conveyed to the Court of King Arthur, 
 where the very next day. Jack followed, with the knights 
 and ladies who had been so honourably delivered Where- 
 upon, as a reward for his good services, the king prevailed 
 upon the aforesaid duke to bestow his daughter in marriage 
 on honest Jack. So married they were, and the whole 
 kingdom was filled with joy at the wedding. Furthermore, 
 the king bestowed on Jack a noble habitation, with a very 
 beautiful estate thereto belonging, where he and his lady 
 lived in great joy and happiness all the rest of their days. 
 
THE PRINCESS OF CANTERBURY.' 
 
 In days of yore, when this country was governed by many 
 kings, among the rest the King of Canterbury had an only 
 daughter, wise, fair, and beautiful. The king issued a 
 decree that whoever would watch one night with his 
 daughter, and neither sleep nor slumber, should have her 
 the next day in marriage ; but if he did either he should 
 lose his head. Many knights and squires attempted it, but 
 ended in losing their lives. 
 
 Now it happened, a young shepherd, grazing his flock 
 near the road, said to his master, " Zur, I zee many gentle- 
 men ride to the Court at Canterbury, but I ne'er see 'em 
 return again." " Oh, shepherd," said his master, " I know 
 not how you should, for they attempt to watch with the 
 king's daughter, according to the decree, and not performing 
 it, they are all beheaded." " Well," said the shepherd, " I'll 
 try my vorton ; zo now vor a king's daughter or a headless 
 shepherd ! " And taking his bottle and bag, he trudged to 
 Court Now, in his way he was to cross a river, over 
 which lay a plank, and down he sits and pulls off his shoes 
 and stockings to wash his feet While he was doing this a 
 fish came biting his toes, and he caught it and put it in his 
 bag. After this, came a second, and a third, and a fourth ; 
 which he put in his bag likewise, and then pursued his 
 journey. When he came to the palace he knocked at the 
 
 ^ From The History of the Four Kings of Canterbury ^ Colchester^ 
 Cormvall, and Cumberland, their Queens and Daughters. Chap-book, 
 Falkirk, 1823. 
 
ENGLISH FOLK AND FAIRY TALES. 19 
 
 gate loudly with his crook, and having told his business, 
 was conducted to a hall, where the king's daughter sat 
 ready to receive him, while the better to lull his senses, he was 
 placed in a rich chair, and wines and fine dishes of fruit and 
 meat were set before him. Of these the shepherd ate and 
 drank plentifully, so that he began to slumber before mid- 
 night " O shepherd," said the lady, " I have caught you 
 napping ! " " Noa, sweet ally, I was busy a-feeshing." 
 " A-fishing ! " said the princess in the utmost astonish- 
 ment. *' Nay, shepherd, there is no fish-pond in the hall." 
 "No matter vor that, I have been feeshing in my bag." 
 *' Oh me ! " said she, " have you caught one ? " Thereupon 
 the shepherd slyly drew the fish out of his bag, at sight 
 of which she was greatly pleased, and praised it for a 
 pretty fish, and said, "Dear shepherd, do you think you 
 could catch one in mine too?" He replied, "Mayhap I 
 may, when I have baited my hook." Then he did as 
 before, and brought out another, which the princess also 
 extolled as ten times finer, and then gave him leave to go 
 to sleep, promising to excuse him to her father. 
 
 In the morning the king came to the hall, with his 
 headsman, as usual, but the princess cried out, " Here is no 
 work for you." " How so," said the king, " has he neither 
 slumbered nor slept?" "No," said the princess, "he has 
 been fishing in the hall all night." When the king heard this 
 and saw the fish, he asked him to catch one in his own 
 bag. The shepherd then bade the king lie down, and having 
 another fish ready, and giving the king a prick with a 
 packing needle, he drew out the fish and showed it to his 
 majesty. The king said he never knew such fishing before. 
 " However," said he, " take my daughter according to my 
 royal decree." So the wedding was kept in great triumph, 
 and the poor shepherd became a king's son. 
 
THE PRINCESS OF, COLCHESTER,* 
 
 Long before Arthur and the Knights of the Round Table, 
 there reigned in the eastern part of England a king who 
 kept his Court at Colchester. He was witty, strong, and 
 valiant, by which means he subdued his enemies abroad, 
 and planted peace among his subjects at home. Neverthe- 
 less, in the midst of all his glory, his queen died, leaving 
 behind her an only daughter, about fifteen years of age. 
 This lady, from her courtly carriage, beauty, and affability, 
 was the wonder of all that knew her. But as covetousness 
 is the root of all evil, so it happened here. The king, 
 hearing of a lady who had likewise an only daughter, 
 for the sake of her riches, had a mind to marry her, 
 and though she was old, ugly, hook-nosed, and hump- 
 backed, yet all this could not deter him from doing 
 so. Her daughter was a yellow dowdy, full of envy and 
 ill-nature ; and, in short, was much of the same mould as her 
 mother. This signified nothing, for in a few weeks the king, 
 attended by the nobility and gentry, brought his deformed 
 bride to his palace, where the marriage rites were performed. 
 They had not been long in the court before they set the 
 king against his own beautiful daughter, which was done by 
 false reports and accusations. The young princess, having 
 lost her father's love, grew weary of the court, and one day, 
 
 ^ From The History of the Four Kings of Canterbury ^ Colchester^ 
 Cornwall, and Cumberland, their Queens and Daughters, Chap-book, 
 Falkirk, 1823. 
 
ENGLISH FOLK AND FAIRY TALES. i\ 
 
 meeting with her father in the garden, she desired him, 
 with tears in her eyes, to give her a small subsistence, and 
 she would go and seek her fortune; to which the king 
 consented, and ordered her mother-in-law to make up a 
 small sum according to her discretion. She went to the 
 queen, who gave her a canvas bag of brown bread 
 and hard cheese, with a bottle of beer; though this 
 was but a very pitiful dowry for a king's daughter. She 
 took it, returned thanks, and proceeded on her journey, 
 passing through groves, woods, and valleys, till at 
 length she saw an old man sitting on a stone at the mouth 
 of a cave, who said, " Good morrow, fair maiden, whither 
 away so fast ? " " Aged father," says she, " I am going to 
 seek my fortune." "What hast thou in thy bag and 
 bottle ? " " In my bag I have got bread and cheese, and 
 in my bottle good small beer. Will you please to partake 
 of either?" "Yes," said he, "with all my heart." With 
 that the lady pulled out her provisions, and bade him eat 
 and welcome. He did so, and gave her many thanks, 
 saying thus : " There is a thick thorny hedge before you, 
 which will appear impassable, but take this wand in your 
 hand, strike three times, and say, ' Pray, hedge, let me 
 come through,' and it will open immediately; then, a little 
 further, you will find a well ; sit down on the brink of it, 
 and there will come up three golden heads, which will 
 speak; and whatever they require, that do." Promising 
 she would, she took her leave of him. Coming to the 
 hedge, and pursuing the old man's directions, it divided, 
 and gave her a passage; then, coming to the well, she 
 had no sooner sat down than a golden head came up 
 singing— 
 
 " Wash me, and comb me, 
 And lay me down softly." 
 
a» ENGLISH FOLK 
 
 " Yes," said she, and putting forth her hand, with a silver 
 comb performed the office, placing it upon a primrose bank. 
 Then came up a second and a third head, saying the same 
 as the former, which she complied with, and then pulling out 
 her provisions, ate her dinner. Then said the heads one to 
 another, "What shall we do for this lady who hath used us 
 so kindly?" The first said, * I will cause such addition 
 to her beauty as shall charm the most powerful prince in 
 the world." The second said, "I will endow her with 
 such perfume, both in body and breath, as shall far exceed 
 the sweetest flowers." The third said, " My gift shall be 
 none of the least, for, as she is a king's daughter, I'll 
 make her so fortunate that she shall become queen to the 
 greatest prince that reigns." This done, at their request 
 she let them down into the well again, and so proceeded on 
 her journey. She had not travelled long before she saw 
 a king hunting in the park with his nobles. She would 
 have shunned him, but the king, having caught a sight of 
 her, approached, and what with her beauty and perfumed 
 breath, was so powerfully smitten that he was not able to 
 subdue his passion, but proceeded at once to courtship, and 
 after some embraces gained her love, and, bringing her to 
 his palace, caused her to be clothed in the most magnificent 
 manner. 
 
 This being ended, and the king finding that she was the 
 King of Colchester's daughter, ordered some chariots to be 
 got ready, that he might pay the king a visit. The chariot 
 in which the king and queen rode was adorned with rich 
 ornamental gems of gold. The king, her father, was at 
 first astonished that his daughter had been so fortunate as 
 she was, till the young king made him sensible of all that 
 happened. Great was the joy at court amongst all, with 
 the exception of the queen and her club-footed daughter, 
 
AND FAIRY TALES. a3 
 
 who were ready to burst with malice, and envied her 
 happiness; and the greater was their madness because 
 she was now above them alL Great rejoicings, with feast- 
 ing and dancing, continued many days. Then at length, 
 with the dowry her father gave her, they returned home. 
 
 The hump-backed sister-in-law, perceiving that her sister 
 was so happy in seeking her fortune, would needs do the 
 same ; so, disclosing her mind to her mother, all prepara- 
 tions were made, and she was furnished not only with rich 
 apparel, but sugar, almonds, and sweetmeats, in great 
 quantities, and a large bottle of Malaga sack. Thus pro- 
 vided, she went the same road as her sister; and coming 
 near the cave, the old man said, " Young woman, whither 
 so fast?" "What is that to you?" said she. "Then," 
 said he, " what have you in your bag and bottle ? " She 
 answered, "Good things, which you shall not be troubled 
 with." " Won't you give me some ? " said he. " No, not a 
 bit, nor a drop, unless it would choke you." The old man 
 frowned, saying, " Evil fortune attend thee ! " Going on, 
 she came to the hedge, through which she espied a gap, 
 and thought to pass through it ; but, going in, the hedge 
 closed, and the thorns ran into her flesh, so that it was with 
 great difficulty that she got out Being now in a bloody 
 condition, she searched for water to wash herself, and, look- 
 ing round, she saw the well. She sat down on the brink of 
 it, and one of the heads came up, saying, " Wash me, comb 
 me, and lay me down softly," as before, but she banged it 
 with her bottle, saying, "Take this for your washing." 
 So the second and third heads came up, and met 
 with no better treatment than the first; whereupon the 
 heads consulted among themselves what evils to plague her 
 with for such usage. The first said, " Let her be struck 
 with leprosy in her face." The second, " Let an additional 
 
24 ENGLISH FOLK AND FAIR Y TALES. 
 
 stink be added to her breath." The third bestowed on hei 
 for a husband but a poor country cobbler. This done, 
 she goes on till she came to a town, and it being market- 
 day, the people looked at her, and, seeing such a mangy 
 face, all fled but a poor country cobbler, who not long 
 before had mended the shoes of an old hermit, who, having 
 no money, gave him a box of ointment for the cure of 
 the leprosy, and a bottle of spirits for a stinking breath. 
 Now the cobbler, having a mind to do an act of charity, 
 was induced to go up to her and ask her who she was. 
 
 " I am," said she, " the King of Colchester's daughter-in- 
 law." "Well," said the cobbler, "if I restore you to 
 your natural complexion, and make a sound cure both in 
 face and breath, will you in reward take me for a hus- 
 band ? " " Yes, friend," replied she ; " with all my heart ! " 
 With this the cobbler applied the remedies, and they 
 worked the effect in a few weeks; after which they were 
 married, and so set forward for the Court at Colchester. 
 When the queen understood she had married nothing but 
 a poor cobbler, she fell into distraction, and hanged herself 
 in wrath. The death of the queen pleased the king, who 
 was glad to be rid of her so soon, and he gave the cobbler 
 a hundred pounds to quit the Court with his lady, and 
 take her to a remote part of the kingdom, where he lived 
 many years mending shoes, his wife spinning thread. 
 
MR. F0X.1 
 
 Once upon a time there was a young lady called Lady 
 Mary, who had two brothers. One summer they all three 
 went to a country seat of theirs, which they had not before 
 visited. Among the other gentry in the neighbourhood 
 who came to see them was a Mr. Fox, a bachelor, with 
 whom they, particularly the young lady, were much pleased. 
 He used often to dine with them, and frequently invited 
 Lady Mary to come and see his house. One day that 
 her brothers were absent elsewhere, and she had nothing 
 better to do, she determined to go thither, and accordingly 
 set out unattended. When she arrived at the house and 
 knocked at the door, no one answered. 
 
 At length she opened it and went in ; over the portal of 
 the door was written — 
 
 " Be bold, be bold, but not too bold." 
 
 She advanced ; over the staircase was the same inscription. 
 She went up; over the entrance of a gallery, the same 
 again. Still she went on, and over the door of a chamber 
 found written — 
 
 '• Be bold, be bold, but not too bold, 
 Lest that your heart's blood should run cold t " 
 
 ^ Malone's Shakspeare (1821), vol. vii. p. 163. See note at end of 
 story. 
 
a6 ENGLISH FOLK 
 
 She opened it ; it was full of skeletons and tubs of blood. 
 She retreated in haste, and, coming downstairs, saw from a 
 window Mr. Fox advancing towards the house with a drawn 
 sword in one hand, while with the other he dragged along 
 a young lady by her hair. Lady Mary had just time 
 to slip down and hide herself under the stairs before 
 Mr. Fox and his victim arrived at the foot of them. As he 
 pulled the young lady upstairs, she caught hold of one of 
 the bannisters with her hand, on which was a rich bracelet. 
 Mr. Fox cut it off with his sword. The hand and bracelet 
 fell into Lady Mary's lap, who then contrived to escape 
 unobserved, and got safe home to her brothers' house. 
 
 A few days afterwards Mr. Fox came to dine with them 
 as usual. After dinner the guests began to amuse each 
 other with extraordinary anecdotes, and Lady Mary said 
 she would relate to them a remarkable dream she had lately 
 had. I dreamt, said she, that as you, Mr. Fox, had often 
 invited me to your house, I would go there one morning. 
 When I came to the house I knocked at the door, but no 
 one answered. When I opened the door, over the hall I 
 saw written, "Be bold, be bold, but not too bold." But, 
 said she, turning to Mr. Fox, and smiling, " It is not so^ 
 nor it was not so." Then she pursued the rest of the story, 
 concluding at every turn with, " It is not so, nor it was not 
 so," till she came to the room full of skeletons, when 
 Mr. Fox took up the burden of the tale, and said — 
 
 " It is not so, nor it was not so, 
 And God forbid it should be so ! " — 
 
 which he continued to repeat at every subsequent ttim of 
 the dreadful story, till she came to the circumstance of his 
 cutting off the young lady's hand, when, upon his saying, as 
 usual — 
 
AND FAIRY TALES, , 27 
 
 " It is not so, nor it was not so, 
 And God forbid it should be so T— * 
 
 Lady Mary retorts by saying — 
 
 '• But it is so, and it was so, 
 And here the hand I have to show 1" — 
 
 at the same moment producing the hand and bracelet from 
 her lap, whereupon the guests drew their swords, and 
 instantly cut Mr. Fox into a thousand pieces. 
 
 * This story was contributed to Malone's Shakspeare by Blake- 
 way, in elucidation of Benedict's speech in *• Much Ado about 
 Nothing," Act i.. Scene i — " Like the old tale, my Lord: it is not so, 
 nor 'twas not so ; but indeed, God forbid it should be so 1 " Blakeway 
 adds that this is evidently an allusion to the tale of " Mr. Fox," 
 " which Shakspeare may have beard, as I have, related by a great-aunt, 
 in childhood." 
 
"TOM TIT TOT."i 
 
 Once upon a time there were a woman, and she baked five 
 pies. And when they come out of the oven, they was that 
 overbaked the crast were too hard to eat. So she says to 
 her darter : 
 
 "MaVr/'^ says she, "put you them there pies on the 
 shelf, an' leave 'em there a little, an' they'll come again." — 
 She meant, you know, the crust 'ud get soft. 
 
 But the gal, she says to herself: "Well, if they'll come 
 agin, I'll ate 'em now." And she set to work and ate 'em 
 all, first and last. 
 
 Well, come supper-time the woman she said : " Goo you, 
 and git one o' them there pies. I dare say they've come 
 agin now." 
 
 The gal she went an' she looked, and there warn't nothin' 
 but the dishes. So back she come and says she: "Noo, 
 they ain't come agin." 
 
 " Not none on 'em ? " says the mother. 
 
 " Not none on 'em," says she. 
 
 ^ Folk-Lore Journal, vol. vli. p. 138, quoted by Mr. Edward Clodd 
 from an old number of the Ipswich Journal. 
 
 ' •' Mawther," remarks J. G. Nail in his Glossary of the Dialect 
 and Provincialisms of East Anglia (Longman, 1866), " is the most 
 curious word in the East Anglian vocabulary. A woman and her 
 mawther means a woman and her daughter." The word is without 
 doubt derived from the same root as ** maid " and cognate words, 
 upon which cf. Skeat's Elymol. Dictionary, s. v. 
 
ENGLISH FOLK AND FAIRY TALES. 29 
 
 "Well, come agin, or not come agin," says the woman, 
 "111 ha' one for supper." 
 
 " But you can't, if they ain't come," says the gaL 
 
 " But I can," says she. " Goo you, and bring the best of 
 'em." 
 
 " Best or worst," says the gal, " I've ate 'em all, and you 
 can't ha' one till that's come agin." 
 
 Well, the woman she were wholly bate, and she took her 
 spinnin' to the door to spin, and as she span she sang : 
 
 '* My darter ha' ate five, five pies to-day. 
 My darter ha' ate five, five pies to-day." 
 
 The king he were a comin' down the street, an' he hard 
 her sing, but what she sang he couldn't hare, so he stopped 
 and said : 
 
 " What were that you was a singun of, maw'r ? " 
 The woman she were ashamed to let him hare what her 
 darter had been a doin', so she sang, 'stids o' that : 
 
 " My darter ha' spun five, five skeins to-day. 
 My darter ha' spun five, five skeins to-day." 
 
 " S'ars o' mine ! " said the king, " I never heard tell of 
 any one as could do that." 
 
 Then he said: "Look you here, T want a wife, and I'll 
 marry your darter. But look you here," says he, " 'leven 
 months out o' the year she shall have all the vittles she likes 
 to eat, and all the gownds she likes to git, and all the 
 cumpny she likes to hev; but the last month o' the year 
 she'll ha' to spin five skeins iv'ry day, an' if she doon't, I 
 shall kill her." 
 
 " All right," says the woman ; for she thowt what a grand 
 marriage that was. And as for them five skeins, when te 
 
30 ENGLISH FOLK 
 
 come tew, there'd be plenty o' ways of gettin' out of it, and 
 likeliest, he'd ha' forgot about it 
 
 Well, so they was married. An' for 'leven months the 
 gal had all the vittles she liked to ate, and all the gownds 
 she liked to git, an' all the cumpny she liked to hev. 
 
 But when the time was gettin' oover, she began to think 
 about them there skeins an' to wonder if he had 'em in 
 mind But not one word did he say about 'em, an' she 
 whooUy thowt he'd forgot 'em. 
 
 Howsivir, the last day o' the last month he takes her to a 
 room she'd niver set eyes on afore. There worn't nothing 
 in it but a spinnin'-wheel and a stool. An' says he: " Now, 
 my dear, hare yow'U be shut in to-morrow with some vittles 
 and some flax, and if you hain't spun five skeins by the 
 night, yar hid '11 goo off." 
 
 An' awa' he went about his business. 
 
 Well, she were that frightened, she'd alius been such a 
 gatless mawther, that she didn't so much as know how to 
 spin, an' what were she to dew to-morrer, with no one to 
 come nigh her to help her. She sat down on a stool in the 
 kitchen, and lork ! how she did cry ! 
 
 Howsivir, all on a sudden she hard a sort of a knockin' 
 low down on the door. She upped and oped it, an' what 
 should she see but a small little black thing with a long tail. 
 That looked up at her right kewrious, an' that said : 
 
 " What are yew a cry in' for ? " 
 
 " Wha's that to yew ? " says she. 
 
 " Niver yew mind," that said, " but tell me what you're 
 a cry in' for." 
 
 " That oon't dew me noo good if I dew," says she. 
 
 " Yew doon't know that," that said, an' twirled that's tail 
 round. 
 
 "Well,'' says she, "that oon't dew no harm, if that doon't 
 
AND FAIRY TALES. %l 
 
 dew no good," and she upped and told about the pies, an' 
 the skeins, an' everything. 
 
 " This is what I'll dew," says the little black thing, " 111 
 come to yar winder iv'ry momin' an' take the flax an' bring 
 it spun at night" 
 
 ** What's your pay ? " says she. 
 
 That looked out o' the comer o' that's eyes, an' that said : 
 " I'll give you three guesses every night to guess my name, 
 an' if you hain't guessed it afore the month's up, yew shall 
 be mine." 
 
 Well, she thowt she'd be sure to guess that's name afore 
 the month was up. " All right," says she, " I agree." 
 
 " All right," that says, an' lork ! how that twirled that's 
 tail. 
 
 Well, the next day, her husband he took her inter the 
 room, an' there was the flax an' the day's vittles. 
 
 " Now there's the flax," says he, " an' if that ain't spun 
 up this night, off goo yar hid." An' then he went out an' 
 locked the door. 
 
 He'd hardly goon when there was a knockin' agin the 
 winder. 
 
 She upped and she oped it, and there sure enough was 
 the little oo'd thing a settin' on the ledge. 
 
 " Where's the flax ? " says he. 
 
 " Here te be," says she. And she gonned it to him 
 
 Well, come the evenin' a knockin' come agin to the 
 winder. She upped an' she oped it, and there were the little 
 oo'd thing with five skeins of flax on his arm. 
 
 " Here te be," says he, an' he gonned it to her. 
 
 " Now, what's my name ? " says he. 
 
 " What, is that Bill ? " says she. 
 
 " Noo, that ain't," says he, an' he twirled his tail. 
 
 " Is that Ned ? " says she. 
 
3a ENGLISH FOLK 
 
 " Noo, that ain't," says he, an' he twirled his tail 
 
 " Well, is that Mark? " says she. 
 
 " Noo, that ain't," says he, an' he twirled his tail harder, 
 an' awa' he' flew. 
 
 Well, when har husban' he come in, there was the five 
 skeins riddy for him. " I see I shorn't hev for to kill you 
 to-night, me dare," says he ; " yew'll hev yar vittles and yar 
 flax in the morn in'," says he, an' away he goes. 
 
 Well, ivery day the flax an' the vittles they was browt, 
 an' ivery day that there little black impet used for to come 
 mornins and evenins. An' all the day the mawther she set 
 a tryin' fur to think of names to say to it when te come at 
 night But she niver hot on the right one. An' as that got 
 to-warts the ind o' the month, the impet that began for to 
 look soo maliceful, an' that twirled that's tail faster an' faster 
 each time she gave a guess. 
 
 At last te came to the last day but one. The impet that 
 come at night along o' the five skeins, and that said : 
 
 " What, ain't yew got my name yet ? " 
 
 " Is that Nicodemus ? " says she. 
 
 " Noo, t*ain't," that says. 
 
 " Is that Sammle? " says she. 
 
 " Noo, t'ain't," that says. 
 
 " A-well, is that Methusalem ? " says she. 
 
 " Noo, t'ain't that norther," that says. 
 
 Then that looks at her with that's eyes like a cool o' fire, 
 an' that says: " Woman, there's only to-morrer night, an' then 
 yar'U be mine ! " An' away te flew. 
 
 Well, she felt that horrudi Howsomediver, she hard the 
 king a comin' along the passage. In he came, an' when he 
 see the five skeins, he says, says he : 
 
 " Well, me dare," says he. " I don't see but what yew'll 
 ha' your skeins ready to-morrer night as well, an' as I reckon 
 
AND FAIRY TALES, 33 
 
 I shorn't ha' to kill yon, I'll ha' supper in here to-night." 
 So they brought supper, an' another stool for him, and down 
 the tew they sat 
 
 Well, he hadn't eat but a mouthful or so, when he stops 
 an' begins to laugh. 
 
 "What is it?" says she. 
 
 " A- why," says he, "I was out a huntin' to-day, an' I got 
 away to a place in the wood I'd never seen afore. An' 
 there was an old chalk-pit. An' I heerd a sort of a hummin', 
 kind o*. So I got off my hobby, an' I went right quiet to 
 the pit, an' I looked down. Well, what should there be but 
 the funniest little black thing yew iver set eyes on. An' 
 what was that a dewin' on, but that had a little spinnin'- 
 wheel, an' that were a spinnin' wonnerful fast, an' a twirlin' 
 that's tail An' as that span, that sang : 
 
 " ' Nimmy nimmy not 
 
 My name's Tom Tit Tot.' " 
 
 Well, when the mawther heerd this, she fared as if she 
 could ha' jumped outer her skin for joy, but she di'n't say a 
 word. 
 
 Next day that there little thing looked soo maliceful 
 when he come for the flax. An' when night came, she 
 heerd that a knockin' agin the winder panes. She oped 
 the winder, an' that come right in on the ledge. That were 
 grinnin' from are to are, an' Oo ! tha's tail were twirlin' 
 round so fast. 
 
 " What's my name? " that says, as that gonned her the 
 skeins. 
 
 " Is that Solomon ? " she says, pretendin' to be afeard. 
 
 " Noo, t'ain't," that says, an' that come fudder inter the 
 room. 
 
34 ENGLISH FOLK AND FAIR Y TALES. 
 
 " Well, is that Zebedee ? " says she agin. 
 
 •' Noo, t'ain't," says the impet An' then that laughed 
 an' twirled that's tail till yew cou'n't hardly see it 
 
 " Take time, woman," that says ; " next guess, an' you're 
 mine." An' that stretched out that's black hands at her. 
 
 Well, she backed a step or two, an' she looked at it, and 
 then she laughed out, an' says she, a pointin' of her finger 
 
 at it: 
 
 " Nimmy nimmy not 
 Yar name's Tom Tit Tot." 
 
 Well, when that hard her, that shruck awful an' awa' that 
 flew into the dark, an' she niver saw it noo more. 
 
JACK AND THE BEAN-STALK.* 
 
 There lived a poor widow, whose cottage stood in a 
 country village, a long distance from London, for many 
 years. 
 
 The widow had only a child named Jack, whom she 
 gratified in everything; the consequence of her partiality 
 was, that Jack paid little attention to anything she said; 
 and he was heedless and extravagant. His follies were not 
 owing to bad disposition, but to his mother never having 
 chided him. As she was not wealthy, and he would not 
 work, she was obliged to support herself and him by selling 
 everything she had. At last nothing remained only a cow. 
 
 The widow, with tears in her eyes, could not help 
 reproaching Jack. " Oh I you wicked boy," said she, " by 
 your prodigal course of life you have now brought us both 
 to fall ! Heedless, heedless boy ! I have not money 
 enough to buy a bit of bread for another day: nothing 
 remains but my poor cow, and that must be sold, or we 
 must starve ! " 
 
 Jack was in a degree of tenderness for a few minutes, but 
 soon over ; and then becoming very hungry for want of food 
 he teased his poor mother to let him sell the cow ; to which 
 at last she reluctantly consented. 
 
 As he proceeded on his journey he met a butcher, who 
 inquired why he was driving the cow from home? Jack 
 replied he was going to sell it. The butcher had some 
 
 ^ From a Chap-book. 
 
36 ENGLISH FOLK 
 
 wonderful beans, of different colours, in his bag, which 
 attracted Jack's notice. This the butcher saw, who, knowing 
 Jack's easy temper, resolved to take advantage of it, and 
 offered all the beans for the cow. The foolish boy thought 
 it a great offer. The bargain was momently struck, and 
 the cow exchanged for a few paltry beans. When Jack 
 hastened home with the beans and told his mother, and 
 showed them to her, she kicked the beans away in a great 
 passion. They flew in all directions, and were extended as 
 far as the garden. 
 
 Early in the morning Jack arose from his bed, and 
 seeing something strange from the window, he hastened 
 downstairs into the garden, where he soon found that 
 some of the beans had grown in root, and sprung up wonder- 
 fully : the stalks grew in an immense thickness, and had so 
 entwined, that they formed a ladder like a chain in view. 
 
 Looking upwards, he could not descry the top, it seemed 
 to be lost in the clouds. He tried it, discovered it firm, and 
 not to be shaken. A new idea immediately struck him : he 
 would climb the bean-stalk, and see to whence it would 
 lead. Full of this plan, which made him forget even his 
 hunger, Jack hastened to communicate his intention to his 
 mother. 
 
 He instantly set out, and after climbing for some hours, 
 reached the top of the bean-stalk, fatigued and almost 
 exhausted. Looking round, he was surprised to find himself 
 in a strange country j it looked to be quite a barren desert ; 
 not a tree, shrub, house, or living creature was to be seen. 
 
 Jack sat himself pensively upon a block of stone, and 
 thought of his mother ; his hunger attacked him, and now 
 he appeared sorrowful for his disobedience in climbing the 
 bean-stalk against her will; and concluded that he must 
 now die for want of food. 
 
AND FAIRY TALES. 37 
 
 However, he walked on, hoping to see a house wliere 
 he might beg something to eat. Suddenly he observed a 
 beautiful young female at some distance. She was dressed 
 in an elegant manner, and had a small white wand in her 
 hand, on the top of which was a peacock of pure gold. She 
 approached and said : " I will reveal to you a story your 
 mother dare not. But before I begin, I require a solemn 
 promise on your part to do what I command. I am a fairy, 
 and unless you perform exactly what 1 direct you to do, 
 you will deprive me of the power to assist you ; and there 
 is little doubt but that you will die in the attempt." Jack 
 was rather frightened at this caution, but promised to follow 
 her directions. 
 
 " Your father was a rich man, with a disposition greatly 
 benevolent. It was his practice never to refuse relief to the 
 deserving in his neighbourhood; but, on the contrary, to 
 seek out the helpless and distressed. Not many miles 
 from your father's house lived a huge giant, who was the 
 dread of the country around for cruelty and oppression. 
 This creature was moreover of a very envious disposition, 
 and disliked to hear others talked of for their goodness 
 and humanity, and he vowed to do him a mischief, so that 
 he might no longer hear his good actions made the subject 
 of every one's conversation. Your father was too good a 
 man to fear evil from others ; consequently it was not long 
 before the cruel giant found an opportunity to put his 
 wicked threats into practice ; for hearing that your parents 
 were about passing a few days with a friend at some distance 
 from home, he caused your father to be waylaid and 
 murdered, and your mother to be seized on their way 
 homeward. 
 
 " At the time this happened, you were but a few months 
 old. Your poor mother, almost dead with affright and 
 
 5 
 
38 ENGLISH FOLK 
 
 horror, was borne away by the cruel giant's emissaries, to a 
 dungeon under his house, in which she and her poor babe 
 were both long confined as prisoners. Distracted at the 
 absence of your parents, the servants went in search of 
 them ; but no tidings of either could be obtained. Mean- 
 time he caused a will to be found making over all your 
 father's property to him as your guardian, and as such he 
 took open possession. 
 
 " After your mother had been some months in prison, 
 the giant offered to restore her to liberty, on condition that 
 she would solemnly swear that she would never divulge the 
 story of her wrongs to any one. To put it out of her power 
 to do him any harm, should she break her oath, the giant 
 had her put on ship-board, and taken to a distant country \ 
 where he had her left with no more money for her support 
 than what she obtained from the sale of a few jewels she 
 had secreted in her dress. 
 
 " I was appointed your father's guardian at his birth ; 
 but fairies have laws to which they are subject as well as 
 mortals. A short time before the giant assassinated your 
 father, I trangressed ; my punishment was a suspension of 
 my power for a limited time, an unfortunate circumstance, 
 as it entirely prevented my assisting your father, even when 
 I most wished to do so. The day on which you met the 
 butcher, as you went to sell your mother's cow, my power 
 was restored. It was I who secretly prompted you to take 
 the beans in exchange for the cow. By my power the 
 bean-stalk grew to so great a height, and formed a ladder. 
 The giant lives in this country; you are the person 
 appointed to punish him for all his wickedness. You will 
 have dangers and difficulties to encounter, but you must 
 persevere in avenging the death of your father, or you will 
 not prosper in any of your undertakings. 
 
AND FAIRY TALES. 39 
 
 " As to the giant's possessions, everything he has is 
 yours, though you are deprived of it ; you may take, there- 
 fore, what part of it you can. You must, however, be careful, 
 for such is his love for gold, that the first loss he discovers 
 will make him outrageous and very watchful for the future. 
 But you must still pursue him ; for it is only by stratagem 
 that you can ever hope to overcome him, and become 
 possessed of your rightful property, and the means of 
 retributive justice overtaking him for his barbarous murder. 
 One thing I desire is, do not let your mother know you 
 are acquainted with your father's history till you see me 
 again. 
 
 " Go along the direct road ; you will soon see the house 
 where your cruel enemy lives. While you do as I order 
 you, I will protect and guard you; but remember, if you 
 disobey my commands, a dreadful punishment awaits you." 
 
 As soon as she had concluded she disappeared, leaving 
 Jack to follow his journey. He walked on till after sunset, 
 when, to his great joy, he espied a large mansion. This 
 pleasant sight revived his drooping spirits; he redoubled 
 his speed, and reached it shortly. A well-looking woman 
 stood at the door: he accosted her, begging she would 
 give him a morsel of bread and a night's lodging. She 
 expressed the greatest surprise at seeing him; and said 
 it was quite uncommon to see any strange creature near 
 their house, for it was mostly known that her husband was 
 a very cruel and powerful giant, and one that would eat 
 human flesh, if he could possibly get it. 
 
 This account terrified Jack greatly, but still, not forgetting 
 the fairy's protection, he hoped to elude the giant, and 
 therefore he entreated the woman to take him in for one 
 night only, and hide him where she thought proper. The 
 good woman at last suffered herself to be persuaded, for her 
 
40 ENGLISH FOLK 
 
 disposition was remarkably compassionate, and at last led 
 him into the house. 
 
 First they passed an elegant hall, finely furnished ; they 
 then proceeded through several spacious rooms, all in the 
 same style of grandeur, but they looked to be quite forsaken 
 and desolate. A long gallery came next ; it was very dark, 
 just large enough to show that, instead of a wall each side, 
 there was a grating of iron, which parted off a dismal 
 dungeon, from whence issued the groans of several poor 
 victims whom the cruel giant reserved in confinement for 
 his voracious appetite. Poor Jack was in a dreadful fright 
 at witnessing such a horrible scene, which caused him to 
 fear that he would never see his mother, but be captured 
 lastly for the giant's meat ; but still he recollected the fairy, 
 and a gleam of hope forced itself into his heart. 
 
 The good woman then took Jack to a spacious kitchen, 
 where a great fire was kept ; she bade him sit down, and gave 
 him plenty to eat and drink. In the meantime he had 
 done his meal and enjoyed himself, but was disturbed by a 
 hard knocking at the gate, so loud as to cause the house to 
 shake. Jack was concealed in the oven, and the giant's 
 wife ran to let in her husband. 
 
 Jack heard him accost her in a voice like thunder, saying : 
 "Wife! wife! I smell fresh meat!" "Oh! my dear," 
 replied she, "it is nothing but the people in the dungeon." 
 The giant seemed to believe her, and at last seated himself 
 by the fireside, whilst the wife prepared supper. 
 
 By degrees Jack endeavoured to look at the monster 
 through a small crevice. He was much surprised to see 
 what an amazing quantity he devoured, and supposed he 
 would never have done eating and drinking. After his 
 supper was ended, a very curious hen was brought and 
 placed on the table before him. Jack's curiosity was so 
 
AND FAIRY TALES. 41 
 
 great to see what would happen. He observed that it stood 
 quiet before him, and every time the giant said : " Lay ! " 
 the hen laid an egg of solid gold. The giant amused him- 
 self a long time with his hen; meanwhile his wife went to 
 bed. At length he fell asleep, and snored like the roaring 
 of a cannon. Jack finding him still asleep at daybreak, 
 crept softly from his hiding-place, seized the hen, and ran 
 off with her as fast as his legs could possibly allow him. 
 
 Jack easily retraced his way to the bean-stalk, and 
 descended it better and quicker than he expected. His 
 mother was overjoyed to see him. " Now, mother," said 
 Jack, " I have brought you home that which will make you 
 rich." The hen produced as many golden eggs as they 
 desired ; they sold them, and soon became possessed of as 
 much riches as they wanted. 
 
 For a few months Jack and his mother lived very happy, 
 but he longed to pay the giant another visit Early in the 
 morning he again climbed the bean-stalk, and reached the 
 giant's mansion late in the evening : the woman was at the 
 door as before. Jack told her a pitiful tale, and prayed for 
 a night's shelter. She told him that she had admitted a 
 poor hungry boy once before, and the little ingrate had 
 stolen one of the giant's treasures, and ever since that she 
 had been cruelly used. She however led him to the 
 kitchen, gave him a supper, and put him in a lumber 
 closet. Soon after the giant came in, took his supper, and 
 ordered his wife to bring down his bags of gold and silver. 
 Jack peeped out of his hiding-place, and observed the giant 
 counting over his treasures, and after which he carefully 
 put them in bags again, fell asleep, and snored as before. 
 Jack crept quietly from his hiding-place, and approached 
 the giant, when a little dog under the chair barked furiously. 
 Contrary to his expectation, the giant slept on soundly, and 
 
4a ENGLISH FOLK 
 
 the dog ceased Jack seized the bags, reached the door in 
 safety, and soon arrived at the bottom of the bean-stalk. 
 When he reached his mother's cottage, he found it quite 
 deserted. Greatly surprised he ran into the village, and an 
 old woman directed him to a house, where he found his 
 mother apparently dying. On being informed of our hero's 
 safe return, his mother revived and soon recovered. Jack 
 then presented two bags of gold and silver to her. 
 
 His mother discovered that something preyed upon his 
 mind heavily, and endeavoured to discover the cause ; but 
 Jack knew too well what the consequence would be should 
 he discover the cause of his melancholy to her. He did 
 his utmost therefore to conquer the great desire which 
 now forced itself upon him in spite of himself for another 
 journey up the bean-sta'ik. 
 
 On the longest day Jack arose as soon as it was light, 
 ascended the bean-stalk, and reached the top with some 
 little trouble. He found the road, journey, etc., the same 
 as on the former occasions. He arrived at the giant's house 
 in the evening, and found his wife standing as usual at the 
 door. Jack now appeared a different character, and had 
 disguised himself so completely that she did not appear to 
 have any recollection of him. However, when he begged 
 admittance, he found it very difficult to persuade her. At 
 last he prevailed, was allowed to go in, and was concealed 
 in the copper. 
 
 When the giant returned, he said, as usual : " Wife 1 wife ! 
 I smell fresh meat ! " But Jack felt quite composed, as he 
 had said so before, and had soon been satisfied. However, 
 the giant started up suddenly, and notwithstanding all his 
 wife could say, he searched all round the room. Whilst 
 this was going forward. Jack was much terrified, and ready 
 to die with fear, wishing himself at home a thousand times; 
 
AND FAIRY TALES. 43 
 
 but when the giant approached the copper, and put his 
 hand upon the lid, Jack thought his death was certain. 
 Fortunately the giant ended his search there, without 
 moving the lid, and seated himself quietly by the fire- 
 side. 
 
 When the giant's supper was over, he commanded his 
 wife to fetch down his harp. Jack peeped under the 
 copper-lid, and soon saw the most beautiful one that could 
 be imagined. It was put by the giant on the table, who said : 
 " Play," and it instantly played of its own accord. The 
 music was uncommonly fine. Jack was delighted, and felt 
 more anxious to get the harp into his possession than either 
 of the former treasures. 
 
 The giant's soul was not attuned to harmony, and the 
 music soon lulled him into a sound sleep. Now, therefore, 
 was the time to carry off the harp, as the giant appeared 
 to be in a more profound sleep than usual. Jack soon 
 made up his mind, got out of the copper, and seized the 
 harp; which, however, being enchanted by a fairy, called 
 out loudly : *' Master, master ! " 
 
 The giant awoke, stood up, and tried to pursue Jack ; but 
 he had drank so much that he could not stand. Jack ran 
 as quick as he could. In a httle time the giant recovered 
 sufficiently to walk slowly, or rather to reel after him. Had 
 he been sober, he must have overtaken Jack instantly j but 
 as he then was. Jack contrived to be first at the top of the 
 bean-stalk. The giant called to him all the way along the 
 road in a voice like thunder, and was sometimes very near 
 to him. 
 
 The moment Jack got down the bean-stalk, he called out 
 for a hatchet : one was brought him directly. Just at that 
 instant the giant began to descend, but Jack with his 
 hatchet cut the bean-stalk close off at the root, and the 
 
44 ENGLISH FOLK AND FAIR Y TALES. 
 
 giant fell headlong into the garden. The fall instantly killed 
 him. 
 
 Jack heartily begged his mother's pardon for all the 
 sorrow and affliction he had caused her, promising most 
 faithfully to be dutiful and obedient to her in future. He 
 proved as good as his word, and became a pattern of 
 afiectiouate behaviour and attention to his parent 
 
SAGAS. 
 
SAGAS. 
 
 HISTORICAL AND LOCAL. 
 
 THE STORY OF SAINT KENELM.1 
 
 When little more than a mile out of Hales Owen, I struck 
 oflF the high road through a green lane, flanked on both 
 sides by extensive half-grown woods, and overhung by 
 shaggy hedges, that were none the less picturesque from 
 their having been long strangers to the shears, and much 
 enveloped in climbing, berry-bearing plants, honeysuckles, 
 brambles, and the woody nightshade. As the path winds 
 up the acclivity, the scene assumes an air of neglected 
 wildness, not very common in England: the tangled 
 thickets rise in irregular groups in the foreground; and, 
 closing in the prospect behind, I could see through the 
 frequent openings the green summits of the Clent Hills, 
 now scarce half a mile away, I was on historic ground — 
 the " various wild," according to Shenstone, " for Kenelm's 
 fate renowned;" and which at a still earlier period had 
 formed one of the battle-fields on which the naked Briton 
 contended on unequal terms with the mail-enveloped 
 Roman. Half-way up the ascent, at a turning in the lane, 
 ^ Iluj^h Miller, Firsi Impresiiotu of England and its People^ p. 169. 
 
48 ENGLISH FOLK 
 
 where the thicket opens into a grassy glade, there stands a 
 fine old chapel of dark red sandstone, erected in the times 
 of the Heptarchy, to mark the locale of a tragedy charac- 
 teristic of the time — the murder of the boy-king St. Kenelm, 
 at the instigation of his sister Kendrida. I spent some 
 time in tracing the half-obliterated carvings on the squat 
 Saxon doorway — by far the most ancient part of the edifice 
 — and in straining hard to find some approximation to the 
 human figure in the rude effigy of a child sculptured on a 
 wall, with a crown on its head and a book in its hand, 
 intended, say the antiquaries, to represent the murdered 
 prince, but at present not particularly like anything. The 
 story of Kenelm we find indicated, rather than told, in one 
 of Shenstone's elegies : — 
 
 " Fast by the centre of yon various wild, 
 
 Where spreading oaks embower a Gothic fane, 
 Kendrida's arts a brother's youth beguiled ; 
 
 There nature urged her tenderest pleas in vain. 
 Soft o'er his birth, and o'er his infant hours, 
 
 Tlie ambitious maid could every care employ ; 
 And with assiduous fondness crop the flowers. 
 
 To deck the cradle of the princely boy. 
 
 " But soon the bosom's pleasing calm is flown ; 
 
 Love fires her breast ; the sultry passions rise ; 
 A favoured lover seeks the Mercian throne, 
 
 And views her Kenelm with a rival's eyes. 
 See, garnished for the chase, the fraudful maid 
 
 To these lone hills direct his devious way : 
 The youth, all prone, the sister-guide obeyed ; 
 
 Ill-fated youth 1 himself the destined prey." 
 
 The minuter details of the incident, as given by William 
 of Malmesbury and Matthew of Westminster, though 
 admirably fitted for the purpose of the true ballad-maker, 
 
AND FAIRY TALES. 49 
 
 are of a kind which would hardly have suited the somewhat 
 lumbrous dignity of Shenstone's elegiacs. Poor Kenelm, 
 at the time of his death, was but nine years old. His 
 murderer, the favoured lover of his sister, after making all 
 sure by cutting off his head with a long-bladed knife, had 
 buried head, knife, and body under a bush in a "low 
 pasture" in the forest, and the earth concealed its dead. 
 The deed, however, had scarce been perpetrated, when a 
 white dove came flying into old St Peter's, at Rome, a 
 full thousand miles away, bearing a scroll in its bill, and, 
 dropping the scroll on the high altar, straightway disap- 
 peared. And on the scroll there was found inscribed in 
 Saxon characters the following couplet : — 
 
 •' In Clent, in Caubage, Kenelm, kinge-bom, 
 Lyeth under a thorne, his hede off shorne." 
 
 So marvellous an intimation — miraculous among its other 
 particulars, in the fact that rhyme of such angelic origin 
 should be so very bad, though this part of the miracle 
 the monks seem to have missed — was of course not to be 
 slighted. The churchmen of Mercia were instructed by 
 the pontiff to make diligent search after the body of the 
 slain prince; and priests, monks, and canons, with the 
 Bishop of Mercia at their head, proceeded forthwith in 
 long procession to the forest And there, in what Milton, 
 in telling the story, terms a "mead of kine," they found 
 a cow lowing pitifully, beside what seemed to be a newly- 
 laid sod. The earth was removed, the body of the 
 murdered prince discovered, the bells of the neighbouring 
 churches straightway began "to rongen a peale without 
 mannes helpe," and a beautiful spring of water, the resort 
 of many a pilgrim for full seven centuries after, burst out 
 
so ENGLISH FOLK 
 
 of the excavated hollow. The chapel was erected im- 
 mediately beside the well; and such was the odour of 
 sanctity which embalmed the memory of St. Kenelm, that 
 there was no saint in the calendar on whose day it was 
 more unsafe to do anything useful. There is a furrow 
 still to be seen, scarce half a mile to the north of the 
 chapel, from which a team of oxen, kept impiously at 
 work during the festival of the saint, ran away, and were 
 never after heard of; and the owner lost not only his 
 cattle, but, shortly after, his eyes to boot. The chapel 
 received gifts in silver, and gifts in gold — "crouns,"and 
 "ceptres,"and "chalysses": there grew up around it, mainly 
 through the resort of pilgrims, a hamlet, which in the 
 times of Edward the First contained a numerous popu- 
 lation, and to which Henry the Third granted an annual 
 fair. At length the age of the Reformation arrived ; Henry 
 the Eighth seized on the gold and silver ; Bishop Latimer 
 broke down the well ; the pilgrimages ceased ; the hamlet 
 disappeared; the fair, after lingering on till the year 1784, 
 disappeared also ; and St. Kenelm's, save that the ancient 
 chapel still survived, became exactly such a scene of wild 
 woodland solitude as it had been ere the boy-prince fell 
 under the knife of the assassin. The drama of a thousand 
 years was over, when, some time about the close of the 
 last century, a few workmen engaged in excavating the 
 foundations of the ruined monastery of Winchcomb, in 
 which, according to the monkish chroniclers, the body of 
 the young prince had been interred near that of his father, 
 lighted on a little stone coffin, beside a larger, which lay 
 immediately under the great eastern window of the church. 
 They raised the lid. There rested within a little dust, a 
 few fragments of the more solid bones, a half-grown human 
 skull tolerably entire, and beside the whole, and occupying 
 
AND FAIRY TALES. 51 
 
 half the length of the little coffin, lay a long-bladed knife, 
 converted into a brittle oxide, which fell in pieces in the 
 attempt to remove it. The portion of the story that owed 
 its existence to the monks had passed into a little sun-gilt 
 vapour; but here was there evidence corroborative of its 
 truthful nucleus surviving still. 
 
WILD EDRIC.i 
 
 Shropshire men must have been well acquainted with the 
 fairies five hundred years ago. It was reported then that 
 our famous champion, Wild Edric, had had an elf-maiden 
 for his wife. One day, we are told, when he was returning 
 from hunting in the forest of Clun, he lost his way, and 
 wandered about till nightfall, alone, save for one young 
 page. At last he saw the lights of a very large house in the 
 distance, towards which he turned his steps ; and when he 
 had reached it, he beheld within a large company of noble 
 ladies dancing. They were exceedingly beautiful, taller and 
 larger than women of the human race, and dressed in 
 gracefully-shaped linen garments. They circled round 
 with smooth and easy motion, singing a soft low song of 
 which the hunter could not understand the words. Among 
 them was one maiden who excelled all the others in beauty, 
 at the sight of whom our hero's heart was inflamed with 
 love. Forgetting the fears of enchantment, which at the 
 first moment had seized him, he hurried round the house, 
 seeking an entrance, and having found it, he rushed in, and 
 snatched the maiden who was the object of his passion from 
 her place in the moving circle. The dancers assailed him 
 with teeth and nails, but backed by his page, he escaped at 
 
 * Miss C S. Burne, Shropshire Folk-lore, p. 59 ; from Walter 
 Aflapes. 
 
ENGLISH FOLK AND FAIRY TALES. 53 
 
 length from their hands, and succeeded in carrying ofT his 
 fair captive. For three whole days not his utmost caresses 
 and persuasions could prevail on her to utter a single word, 
 but on the fourth day she suddenly broke the silence. 
 " Good luck to you, my dear ! " said she, "and you will be 
 lucky too, and enjoy health and peace and plenty, as long 
 as you do not reproach me on account of my sisters, or the 
 place from which you snatched me away, or anything 
 connected with it. For on the day when you do so you 
 will lose both your bride and your good fortune ; and when 
 I am taken away from you, you will pine away quickly to 
 an early death." 
 
 He pledged himself by all that was most sacred to be 
 ever faithful and constant in his love for her, and they were 
 solemnly wedded in the presence of all the nobles from far 
 and near, whom Edric invited to their bridal feast At that 
 time William the Norman was newly made king of England, 
 who, hearing of this wonder, desired both to see the lady, 
 and to test the truth of the tale ; and bade the newly- 
 married pair to London, where he was holding his Court. 
 Thither then they went, and many witnesses from their own 
 country with them, who brought with them the testimony of 
 others who could not present themselves to the king. But 
 the marvellous beauty of the lady was the best of all proofs 
 of her superhuman origin. And the king let them return 
 in peace, wondering greatly. 
 
 Many years passed happily by, till one evening Edric 
 returned late from hunting, and could not find his wife. 
 He sought her and called for her for some time in 
 vain. At last she appeared. " I suppose," began he, 
 with angry looks, "it is your sisters who have detained 
 you such a long time, have they not?" The rest of 
 his upbraiding was addressed to the air, for the moment 
 
 G 
 
54 ENGLISH FOLK AND FAIR Y TALES, 
 
 her sisters were mentioned she vanished. Edric's grief was 
 overwhelming. He sought the place where he had found 
 her at first, but no tears, no laments of his could call hei 
 back. He cried out day and night against his own folly, 
 and pined away and died of sorrow, as his wife had long 
 before foretold. 
 
LADY G0DIVA.1 
 
 The Countess Godiva, who was a great lover of God's 
 mother, longing to free the town of Coventry from the 
 oppression of a heavy toll, often with urgent prayers 
 besought her husband that, from regard to Jesus Christ 
 and his mother, he would free the town from that service 
 and from all other heavy burdens ; and when the Earl 
 sharply rebuked her for foolishly asking what was so much 
 to his damage, and always forbade her evermore to speak to 
 him on the subject ; and while she, on the other hand, with 
 a woman's pertinacity, never ceased to exasperate her 
 husband on that matter, he at last made her this answer : 
 " Mount your horse and ride naked, before all the people, 
 through the market of the town from one end to the other, 
 and on your return you shall have your request." On 
 which Godiva replied, " But will you give me permission if 
 I am willing to do it ? " "I will," said he. Whereupon 
 the Countess, beloved of God, loosed her hair and let down 
 •her tresses, which covered the whole of her body like a veil, 
 and then mounting her horse and attended by two knights, 
 she rode through the market-place, without being seen, 
 except her fair legs ; and having completed the journey, she 
 returned with gladness to her astonished husband, and 
 obtained of him what she had asked ; for Earl Leofric 
 freed the town of Coventry and its inhabitants from the 
 
 ^ Rope of Wendover, Flowers of History ^ Dr. Giles' translation, sub 
 anno 1057. 
 
S6 ENGLISH FOLK AND FAIR V TALES. 
 
 aforesaid service, and confirmed what he had done by a 
 charter. 
 
 The modern version of the story adds in the Laureate's 
 words : — 
 
 " And one low churl, compact of thankless earth, 
 The fatal byword of all years to come, 
 Boring a little auger-hole in fear, 
 Peep'd — but his eyes, before they had their will, 
 Were shrivell'd into darkness in his head. 
 And dropt before him. So the Powers, who wait 
 On noble deeds, cancell'd a sense misus'd." 
 
THE LEGEND OF THE SONS OF THE 
 CONQUEROR. 1 
 
 One day, it being observed that William was absorbed 
 in deep thought, his courtiers ventured to inquire the 
 cause of such profound abstraction. " I am speculating," 
 said the monarch, "on what may be the fate of my sons 
 after my death." " Your majesty," replied the wise men 
 of the court, " the fate of your sons will depend upon 
 their conduct, and their conduct will depend upon their 
 respective characters ; permit us to make a few inquiries, 
 and we shall soon be able to tell you that which you 
 wish to know." The king signifying his approbation, the 
 wise men consulted together, and agreed to put questions 
 separately to the three princes, who were then young. 
 The first who entered the room was Robert, afterwards 
 known by the surname of Courthose. "Fair sir," said 
 one of the wise men, " answer me a question — If God had 
 made you a bird, what bird would you wish to have been ? " 
 Robert answered : "A hawk, because it resembles most 
 a courteous and gallant knight" William Rufus next 
 entered, and his answer to the same question was : " I 
 would be an eagle, because it is a strong and powerful 
 bird, and feared by all other birds, and therefore it is king 
 over them all." Lastly, came the younger brother Henry, 
 who had received a learned education, and was on that 
 account known by the surname of Beauclerc His choice 
 
 ^ Chambers's Book of Days, vol. iL p. 328. 
 
58 ENGLISH FOLK 
 
 was a starling, "Because it is a debonnaire and simple bird, 
 and gains its living without injury to any one, and never 
 seeks to rob or grieve its neighbour." The wise men 
 returned immediately to the king. Robert, they said, 
 would be bold and valiant, and would gain renown and 
 honour, but he would finally be overcome by violence, 
 and die in prison. William would be powerful and strong 
 as the eagle, but feared and hated for his cruelty and 
 violence, until he ended a wicked life by a bad death. 
 But Henry would be wise, prudent, and peaceful, unless 
 when actually compelled to engage in war, and would die 
 in peace after gaining wide possessions. So when King 
 William lay on his death-bed he remembered the saying 
 of his wise men, and bequeathed Normandy to Robert, 
 England to William, and his own treasures, without land, 
 to his younger son Henry, who eventually became king 
 of both countries, and reigned long and prosperously. 
 
 This story, which most probably is of Eastern origin, is 
 frequently told under various circumstances by mediaeval 
 writers. A Latin manuscript, of the thirteenth century, 
 relates it in the following form : — 
 
 A wealthy English baron, whose broad lands extended 
 over a large extent of England and Wales, had three sons ; 
 when lying on his death-bed he called them to him, and 
 said : " If you were compelled to become birds, tell me what 
 bird each of you would choose to resemble?" The eldest 
 said: "I would be a hawk, because it is a noble bird, and 
 lives by rapine." The second said: " I would be a starling, 
 because it is a social bird, and flies in coveys." The 
 youngest said: "I would be a swan, because it has a long 
 neck, so that if I had anything in my heart to say, I should 
 have plenty of time for reflection before it came to my 
 mouth." When the father had heard them, he said to the 
 
AND FAIR Y TALES. 59 
 
 first: "Thou, my son, as I perceive, desirest to live by 
 rapine; I will therefore bequeath thee my possessions in 
 England, because it is a land of peace and justice, and thou 
 canst not rob in it with impunity." To the second he said: 
 "Because thou lovest society, I will bequeath thee my 
 lands in Wales, which is a land of discord and war, in order 
 that thy courtesy may soften down the malice of the 
 natives." And then turning to the youngest, he said: **To 
 thee I bequeath no land at all, because thou art wise, and 
 wilt gain enough by thy wisdom." And as he foretold, the 
 youngest son profited by his wisdom, and became Lord 
 Chief-Justice of England, which in those times was the next 
 dignity to that of king. 
 
THE LEGEND OF BECKET'S PARENTS.^ 
 
 In connection with the renowned Thomas Becket a curious 
 story is related of the marriage of his parents. It is said 
 that Gilbert, his father, had in his youth followed the 
 Crusaders to Palestine, and while in the East had been 
 taken prisoner by a Saracen or Moor of high rank. Con- 
 fined by the latter within his own castle, the young 
 Englishman's personal attractions and miserable condition 
 alike melted the heart of his captor's daughter, a fair 
 Mohammedan, who enabled him to escape from prison 
 and regain his native country. Not wholly disinterested, 
 however, in the part which she acted in this matter, the 
 Moor's daughter obtained a promise from Gilbert, that 
 as soon as he had settled quietly in his own land, he should 
 send for, and marry his protectress. Years passed on, 
 but no message ever arrived to cheer the heart of the 
 love-lorn maiden, who thereupon resolved to proceed to 
 England and remind the forgetful knight of his engage- 
 ment This perilous enterprise she actually accomplished ; 
 and though knowing nothing of the English language 
 beyond the Christian name of her lover and his place 
 of residence in London, which was Cheapside, she con- 
 
 ' Chambers's Bock of Days, vol. ii. p. 784. — The reader is referred 
 to the graceful poem on the subject by Mr. Lewis Morris in the Songs 
 of Two Worlds. The old ballads mentioned above may be studied 
 with all their known variants in Professor Child's English and Scottish 
 Ballads, vol. i. p. 454. 
 
ENGLISH FOLK AND FAIR Y TALES. 6i 
 
 trived to search him out; and with greater success than 
 could possibly have been anticipated, found him ready 
 to fulfil his former promise by making her his wife. 
 Previous to the marriage taking place she professed her 
 conversion to Christianity, and was baptised with great 
 solemnity in St. Paul's Cathedral, no less than six bishops 
 assisting at the ceremony. The only child of this union 
 was the celebrated Thomas Becket, whose devotion in 
 after-years to the cause of the church may be said to have 
 been a befitting recompense for the attention which her 
 ministers had shown in watching over the spiritual welfare 
 of his mother. 
 
 This singular story has found credence in recent times 
 with Dr. Giles, M. Thierry, Mr. Froude, and M. Michelet; 
 but by one of the most judicious modern biographers of 
 Becket, Canon Robertson, it is rejected as a legendary tale, 
 wholly unsupported by the evidence of those chroniclers 
 who were Becket's contemporaries. It gave rise, both in 
 England and Scotland, to more than one ballad, in which 
 the elder Becket's imprisonment in the East, his liberation 
 by the aid of the Moorish damsel, and the latter's expedi- 
 tion to Britain in quest of him, are all set forth with sundry 
 additions and embellishments. In one of these, which 
 bears the name of Lord Beichan, the fair young Saracen, 
 who, by some extraordinary corruption or misapprehension, 
 is recorded under the designation of Susie Pye^ follows her 
 lover to Scotland, and there surprises him at the very hour 
 when he is about to unite himself in marriage to another 
 lady. The faithless lover, on being reminded of his 
 previous compact, professes the utmost contrition, and 
 declares at once his resolve to wed the Saracen's daughter, 
 who had given such evidence of her love and attachment to 
 him, by making so long and dangerous a journey. The 
 
62 ENGLISH FOLK AND FAIR Y TALES. 
 
 hapless bride, who would otherwise have speedily become his 
 wife, is unceremoniously dismissed along with her mother j 
 and the nuptials of Lord Beichan and Susie Pye are then 
 celebrated with great magnificence. Another ballad on the 
 same subject is entitled Young Bekie, but the heroine here 
 is represented as the daughter of the king of France, and 
 distinguished by the title of Burd Isbel. By such romantic 
 embellishments, and so incongruous and ridiculous a 
 nomenclature, did the ballad-writers of a later age embody 
 in verse the story of the parents of the renowned archbishop 
 of Canterbiury. 
 
THE FAUSE FABLE OF THE LORD LATHOM.i 
 
 A FAYNED TALE. 
 
 When the war was 'tvvixt the Englishmen and the Irishmen 
 the power of the English so sore assaulted the Irishmen 
 that the king of them, being of Ireland, was constrained to 
 take succour by flight into other parts for his safeguard ; 
 and the queen, being pregnant and great with child, right 
 near her time of deliverance, for dread of the rudeness of 
 the commonalty, took her flight into the wilderness, where 
 her chance was to suffer travail of child, bringing forth two 
 children, the one a son, the other a daughter ; when after 
 by natural compulsion she and such gentlewomen as were 
 with her was constrained to sleep, insomuch that the two 
 children were ravished from the mother ; and the daughter, 
 as it is said, is kept in Ireland with the fairies. Insomuch 
 that against the time of death of any of that blood of 
 Stanleys she maketh a certain noise in one quarter of 
 Ireland, where she useth [to stay]. 
 
 The son was taken and borne away with an eagle, and 
 brought into Lancashire, into a park called Lathom Park, 
 whereas did dwell a certain lord, named the Lord Lathom ; 
 the which Lord Lathom, walking in his park, heard a child 
 lament and cry, and perceived the skirts of the mantle 
 
 1 Journal of the British Archaolos^cal Association, vol. vii. , from 
 Hare's MSS., vol. ii. ; reprinted in Ilarland and Wilkinson's Lanca- 
 shire Legends, p. 259. 
 
64 ENGLISH FOLK 
 
 lying over the nest side, and made his servants to bring 
 down the child unto him. 
 
 And whereas both he and his wife being in far age, and 
 she past conceiving of child, considering they never could 
 have issue, reckoning that God had sent this child by 
 miracle, they condescended to make this child their heir, 
 and so did. At length this Lord Lathom and his wife 
 deceased, and this young man, which was named Oskell of 
 Lathom, reigned and ruled this land as right heir, and he 
 had to issue a daughter which was his heir and child by the 
 Lady Lathom. 
 
 It chanced so that one Stanley, being a younger brother 
 of the House of Wolton in Cheshire, was servant to the 
 Abbot of West Chester. This young man Stanley was 
 carver to the Abbot, and he would not break his fast on 
 the Sunday till he had heard the high mass. Insomuch 
 that it chanced one Sunday when the meat was served on 
 the table, he had so great hunger he carved the pig's head, 
 and conveyed one of the ears of the pig and did eat it. 
 
 When the Abbot sat down, and perchance missed the 
 pig's ear, he was miscontent and in a great fume, and 
 reviled so extremely and so heinously this young Stanley, 
 that he threw the napkin at his head, and said he would do 
 him no more service, and departed. And he came to the 
 king's court, and obtained his service, and proved so active 
 a fellow that the renown sprang and inflamed upon him, 
 insomuch that the fame and bruit descended from him 
 around this realm. 
 
 And when, as the use then was, that noble adventurers 
 would seek their fortune and chance into divers and strange 
 nations, one renowned gallant came into England, and he 
 called as challenger for death and life, come who list. 
 Insomuch that the king commanded this Stanley to cope 
 
AND FAIRY TALES. 65 
 
 with him ; and, to make short protestation, his chance was 
 to overthrow the challenger and obtain the victory. Then 
 the king made him knight, and gave him certain lands to 
 live on. 
 
 After this foresaid Stanley came for marriage to the 
 daughter of Oskell of Lathom, which was found in the 
 eagle's nest, and obtained her favour, and espoused her. 
 And then after the death of Oskell he was Lord Lathom, 
 and enjoyed it many years. And for such service as he 
 did afterwards the king made him Lord Stanley; and he 
 was the first lord of the name ; and so by that reason the 
 Stanleys descended of Lathom give the eagle and the child 
 in their arms. 
 
WKITTINGTON AND HIS CAT.i 
 
 In the reign of the famous King Edward III. there was a 
 little boy called Dick Whittington, whose father and mother 
 died when he was very young, so that he remembered 
 nothing at all about them, and was left a ragged little fellow, 
 running about a country village. As poor Dick was not 
 old enough to work, he was very badly off; he got but 
 little for his dinner, and sometimes nothing at all for his 
 breakfast ; for the people who lived in the village were very 
 poor indeed, and could not spare him much more than the 
 parings of potatoes, and now and then a hard crust of bread. 
 
 For all this Dick Whittington was a very sharp boy, and 
 was always listening to what everybody talked about On 
 Sunday he was sure to get near the farmers, as they sat talk- 
 ing on the tombstones in the churchyard, before the parson 
 was come ; and once a week you might see little Dick lean- 
 ing against the sign-post of the village alehouse, where people 
 stopped to drink as they came from the next market town ; 
 and when the barber's shop door was open, Dick listened 
 to all the news that his customers told one another. 
 
 In this manner Dick heard a great many very strange 
 things about the great city called London; for the foolish 
 country people at that time thought that folks in London 
 were all fine gentlemen and ladies ; and that there was 
 singing and music there all day long ; and that the streets 
 were all paved with gold. 
 
 ^ From a Chap-book. 
 
ENGLISH FOLK AND FAIR Y TALES. 67 
 
 One day a large waggon and eight horses, all with bells 
 at their heads, drove through the village while . Dick was 
 standing by the sign-post He thought that this waggon 
 must be going to the fine town of London ; so he look 
 courage, and asked the waggoner to let him walk with him 
 by the side of the waggon. As soon as the waggoner heard 
 that poor Dick had no father or mother, and saw by his 
 ragged clothes that he could not be worse off than he was, 
 he told him he might go if he would, so they set off 
 together. 
 
 I could never find out how little Dick contrived to get 
 meat and drink on the road ; nor how he could walk so far, 
 for it was a long way ; nor what he did at night for a place 
 to lie down to sleep in. Perhaps some good-natured people 
 in the towns that he passed through, when they saw he was 
 a poor little ragged boy, gave him something to eat; and 
 perhaps the waggoner let him get into the waggon at night, 
 and take a nap upon one of the boxes or large parcels in 
 the waggon. 
 
 Dick however got safe to London, and was in such a 
 hurry to see the fine streets paved all over with gold, that 
 I am afraid he did not even stay to thank the kind wag- 
 goner; but ran off" as fast as his legs would carry him, 
 through many of the streets, thinking every moment to 
 come to those that were paved with gold; for Dick had 
 seen a guinea three times in his own little village, and 
 remembered what a deal of money it brought in change; 
 so he thought he had nothing to do but to take up some 
 little bits of the pavement, and should then have as much 
 money as he could wish for. 
 
 Poor Dick ran till he was tired, and had quite forgot his 
 friend the waggoner ; but at last, finding it grow dark, and 
 that every way he turned he saw nothing but dirt instead 
 
68 ENGLISH FOLK 
 
 of gold, he sat down in a dark comer and cried himself to 
 sleep. 
 
 Little Dick was all night in the streets ; and next morning, 
 being very hungry, he got up and walked about, and asked 
 everybody he met to give him a halfpenny to keep him 
 from starving ; but nobody stayed to answer him, and only 
 two or three gave him a halfpenny ; so that the poor boy 
 was soon quite weak and faint for the want of victuals. 
 
 At last a good-natured looking gentleman saw how hungry 
 he looked. " Why don't you go to work, my lad ? " said he 
 to Dick. " That I would, but I do not know how to get 
 any," answered Dick. " If you are willing, come along 
 with me," said the gentleman, and took him to a hay-field, 
 where Dick worked briskly, and lived merrily till the hay 
 was made 
 
 After this he found himself as badly off as before ; and 
 being almost starved again, he laid himself down at the 
 door of Mr. Fitzwarren, a rich merchant Here he was 
 soon seen by the cook-maid, who was an ill-tempered 
 creature, and happened just then to be very busy dressing 
 dinner for her master and mistress; so she called out to 
 poor Dick : " "What business have you there, you lazy rogue ? 
 there is nothing else but beggars ; if you do not take your- 
 self away, we will see how you will like a sousing of some 
 dish-water; I have some here hot enough to make you 
 jump." 
 
 Just at that time Mr. Fitzwarren himself came home to 
 dinner ; and when he saw a dirty ragged boy lying at the 
 door, he said to him : " Why do you lay there, my boy ? 
 You seem old enough to work ; I am afraid you are inclined 
 to be lazy." 
 
 "No, indeed, sir," said Dick to him, "that is not the 
 case, for I would work with all my heart, but I do not know 
 
AND FAIRY TALES. 69 
 
 anybody, and I believe I am very sick for the want of food." 
 " Poor fellow, get up ; let me see what ails you." 
 
 Dick now tried to rise, but was obliged to lie down again, 
 being too weak to stand, for he had not eaten any food for 
 three days, and was no longer able to run about and beg a 
 halfpenny of people in the street. So the kind merchant 
 ordered him to be taken into the house, and have a good 
 dinner given him, and be kept to do what dirty work he 
 was able for the cook. 
 
 Little Dick would have lived very happy in this good 
 family if it had not been for the ill-natured cook, who was 
 finding fault and scolding him from morning to night, and 
 besides, she was so fond of basting, that when she had no 
 meat to baste, she would baste poor Dick's head and 
 shoulders with a broom, or anything else that happened to 
 fall in her way. At last her ill-usage of him was told to 
 Alice, Mr. Fitzwarren's daughter, who told the cook she 
 should be turned away if she did not treat him kinder. 
 
 The ill-humour of the cook was now a little amended ; 
 but besides this Dick had another hardship to get over. 
 His bed stood in a garret, where there were so many holes 
 in the floor and the walls that every night he was tormented 
 with rats and mice. A gentleman having given Dick a 
 penny for cleaning his shoes, he thought he would buy a 
 cat with it The next day he saw a girl with a cat, and 
 asked her if she would let him have it for a penny. The 
 girl said she would, and at the same time told him the cat 
 was an excellent mouser. 
 
 Dick hid his cat in the garret, and always took care to 
 carry a part of his dinner to her ; and in a short time he 
 had no more trouble with the rats and mice, but slept quite 
 sound every night. 
 
 Soon after this, his master had a ship ready to sail ; and 
 
 7 
 
70 ENGLISH FOLK 
 
 as he thought it right that all his servants should have some 
 change for good fortune as well as himself, he called them 
 all into the parlour and asked them what they would send 
 out 
 
 They all had something that they were willing to venture 
 except poor Dick, who had neither money nor goods, and 
 therefore could send nothing. 
 
 For this reason he did not come into the parlour with the 
 rest; but Miss Alice guessed what was the matter, and 
 ordered him to be called in. She then said she would lay 
 down some money for him, from her own purse ; but the 
 father told her this would not do, for it must be something 
 of his own. 
 
 When poor Dick heard this, he said he had nothing but 
 a cat which he bought for a penny some time since of a 
 little girl. 
 
 " Fetch your cat then, my good boy," said Mr. Fitz- 
 warren, "and let her go." 
 
 Dick went upstairs and brought down poor puss, with 
 tears in his eyes, and gave her to the captain ; for he said 
 he should now be kept awake again all night by the rats and 
 mice. 
 
 All the company laughed at Dick's odd venture \ and 
 Miss Alice, who felt pity for the poor boy, gave him some 
 money to buy another cat. 
 
 This, and many other marks of kindness shown him by 
 Miss Alice, made the ill-tempered cook jealous of poor 
 Dick, and she began to use him more cruelly than ever, and 
 always made game of him for sending his cat to sea. She 
 asked him if he thought his cat would sell for as much 
 money as would buy a stick to beat him. 
 
 At last poor Dick could not bear this usage any longer, 
 and he thought he would run away from his place ; so he 
 
AND FAIRY TALES. 71 
 
 packed up his few things, and started very early in the 
 morning, on All-hallows Day, which is the first of November. 
 He walked as far as Holloway ; and there sat down on a 
 stone, which to this day is called Whittington's stone, and 
 began to think to himself which road he should take as he 
 proceeded onwards. 
 
 While he was thinking what he should do, the Bells of 
 Bow Church, which at that time had only six, began to ring, 
 and he fancied their sound seemed to say to him : 
 
 " Turn again, Whittington, 
 Lord Mayor of London." 
 
 " Lord Mayor of London ! " said he to himself. "Why, 
 to be sure, I would put up with almost anything now, to be 
 Lord Mayor of London, and ride in a fine coach, when I 
 grow to be a man ! Well, I will go back, and think nothing 
 of the cuffing and scolding of the old cook, if I am to be 
 Lord Mayor of London at last." 
 
 Dick went back, and was lucky enough to get into the 
 house, and set about his work, before the old cook came 
 downstairs. 
 
 The ship, with the cat on board, was a long time at sea j 
 and was at last driven by the winds on a part of the coast 
 of Barbary, where the only people were the Moors, that the 
 English had never known before. 
 
 The people then came in great numbers to see the sailors, 
 who were of difierent colour to themselves, and treated 
 them very civilly ; and, when they became better acquainted, 
 were very eager to buy the fine things that the ship was 
 loaded with. 
 
 When the captain saw this, he sent patterns of the best 
 things he had to the king of the country ; who was so much 
 pleased with them, that he sent for the captain to the palace. 
 
72 ENGLISH FOLK 
 
 Here they were placed, as it is the custom of the country, 
 on rich carpets marked with gold and silver flowers. The 
 king and queen were seated at the upper end of the room ; 
 and a number of dishes were brought in for dinner. They 
 had not sat long, when a vast number of rats and mice 
 rushed in, helping themselves from almost every dish. 
 The captain wondered at this, and asked if these vermin 
 were not very unpleasant. 
 
 " Oh yes," said they, " very oflfensive ; and the king 
 would give half his treasure to be freed of them, for they 
 not only destroy his dinner, as you see, but they assault him 
 in his chamber, and even in bed, so that he is obliged to be 
 watched while he is sleeping for fear of them." 
 
 The captain jumped for joy; he remembered poor 
 Whittington and his cat, and told the king he had a creature 
 on board the ship that would despatch all these vermin 
 immediately. The king's heart heaved so high at the joy 
 which this news gave him that his turban dropped off his 
 head. "Bring this creature to me," says he; "vermin are 
 dreadful in a court, and if she will perform what you say, I 
 will load your ship with gold and jewels in exchange for her." 
 
 The captain, who knew his business, took this opportunity 
 to set forth the merits of Miss Puss. He told his majesty 
 that it would be inconvenient to part with her, as, when she 
 was gone, the rats and mice might destroy the goods in the 
 ship — but to oblige his majesty he would fetch her. " Run, 
 run ! " said the queen ; "I am impatient to see the dear 
 creature." 
 
 Away went the captain to the ship, while another dinner 
 was got ready. He put puss under his arm, and arrived at 
 the place soon enough to see the table full of rats. 
 
 When the cat saw them, she did not wait for bidding, but 
 jumped out of the captain's arms, and in a few minutes laid 
 
AND FAIRY TALES. 73 
 
 almost all the rats and mice dead at her feet. The rest of 
 them in their fright scampered away to their holes. 
 
 The king and queen were quite charmed to get so easily 
 rid of such plagues, and desired that the creature who had 
 done them so great a kindness might be brought to them 
 for inspection. Upon which the captain called : " Pussy, 
 pussy, pussy ! " and she came to him. He then presented 
 her to the queen, who started back, and was afraid to touch 
 a creature who had made such a havoc among the rats and 
 mice. However, when the captain stroked the cat and 
 called: "Pussy, pussy," the queen also touched her and cried : 
 "Putty, putty," for she had not learned English. He then 
 put her down on the queen's lap, where she, purring, played 
 with her majesty's hand, and then sung herself to sleep. 
 
 The king, having seen the exploits of Mrs. Puss, and 
 being informed that she was with young, and would stock 
 the whole country, bargained with the captain for the whole 
 ship's cargo, and then gave him ten times as much for the 
 cat as all the rest amounted to. 
 
 The captain then took leave of the royal party, and set 
 sail with a fair wind for England, and after a happy voyage 
 arrived safe in London. 
 
 One morning Mr. Fitzwarren had just come to his 
 counting-house and seated himself at the desk, when 
 somebody came tap, tap, at the door. " Who's there ? " 
 says Mr. Fitzwarren. "A friend," answered the other; "I 
 come to bring you good news of your ship Unicorn.^' The 
 merchant, bustling up instantly, opened the door, and who 
 should be seen waiting but the captain and factor, with a 
 cabinet of jewels, and a bill of lading, for which the 
 merchant lifted up his eyes and thanked heaven for sending 
 him such a prosperous voyage. 
 
 They then told the story of the cat, and showed the rich 
 
74 ENGLISH FOLK 
 
 present that the king and queen had sent for her to poor 
 Dick. As soon as the merchant heard this, he called out to 
 his servants : 
 
 " Go fetch him — we will tell him of the same ; 
 Pray call him Mr. Whittington by name." 
 
 Mr. Fitzwarren now showed himself to be a good man j 
 for when some of his servants said so great a treasure was 
 too much for him, he answered : " God forbid I should 
 deprive him of the value of a single penny." 
 
 He then sent for Dick, who at that time was scouring 
 pots for the cook, and was quite dirty. 
 
 Mr. Fitzwarren ordered a chair to be set for him, and so 
 he began to think they were making game of him, at the 
 same time begging them not to play tricks with a pooi 
 simple boy, but to let him go down again, if they pleased, 
 to his work. 
 
 "Indeed, Mr. Whittington," said the merchant, "we are 
 all quite in earnest with you, and I most heartily rejoice in 
 the news these gentlemen have brought you ; for the captain 
 has sold your cat to the King of Barbary, and brought you 
 in return for her more riches than I possess in the whole 
 world ; and I wish you may long enjoy them ! " 
 
 Mr. Fitzwarren then told the men to open the great trea- 
 sure they had brought with them ; and said : " Mr. Whitting- 
 ton has nothing to do but to put it in some place of safety." 
 
 Poor Dick hardly knew how to behave himself for joy. 
 He begged his master to take what part of it he pleased, 
 since he owed it all to his kindness. " No, no," answered 
 Mr. Fitzwarren, "this is all your own; and I have no 
 doubt but you will use it well." 
 
 Dick next asked his mistress, and then Miss Alice, to 
 accept a part of his good fortune ; but they would not, and 
 
AND FAIRY TALES. 75 
 
 at the same time told him they felt great joy at his good 
 success. But this poor fellow was too kind-hearted to keep 
 it all to himself; so he made a present to the captain, the 
 mate, and the rest of Mr. Fitzwarren's servants ; and even 
 to the ill-natured old cook. 
 
 After this Mr. Fitzwarren advised him to send for a 
 proper tradesman and get himself dressed like a gentleman ; 
 and told him he was welcome to live in his house till he 
 could provide himself with a better. 
 
 When Whittington's face was washed, his hair curled, his 
 hat cocked, and he was dressed in a nice suit of clothes, he 
 was as handsome and genteel as any young man who visited 
 at Mr. Fitzwarren's ; so that Miss Alice, who had once been 
 so kind to him, and thought of him with pity, now looked 
 upon him as fit to be her sweetheart ; and the more so, no 
 doubt, because Whittington was now always thinking what 
 he could do to oblige her, and making her the prettiest 
 presents that could be. 
 
 Mr. Fitzwarren soon saw their love for each other, and 
 proposed to join them in marriage ; and to this they both 
 readily agreed. A day for the wedding was soon fixed ; 
 and they were attended to church by the Lord Mayor, the 
 court of aldermen, the sheriflfs, and a great number of the 
 richest merchants in London, whom they afterwards treated 
 with a very rich feast. 
 
 History tells us that Mr. Whittington and his lady lived 
 in great splendour, and were very happy. They had several 
 children. He was SheriflF of London, also Mayor, and 
 received the honour of knighthood by Henry V. 
 
 The figure of Sir Richard Whittington with his cat in his 
 arms, carved in stone, was to be seen till the year 1780 over 
 the archway of the old prison of Newgate, that stood across 
 Newgate Street 
 
THE PEDLAR OF SWAFFHAM.1 
 
 Constant tradition says that there hved in former times 
 in Soffham (Swaflfham), alias Sopham, in Norfolk, a certain 
 pedlar, who dreamed that if he went to London Bridge, 
 and stood there, he should hear very joyful! newse, which he 
 at first sleighted, but afterwards, his dream being doubled 
 and trebled upon him, he resolved to try the issue of it, 
 and accordingly went to London, and stood on the bridge 
 there two or three days, looking about him, but heard 
 nothing that might yield him any comfort At last it 
 happened that a shopkeeper there, hard by, having noted 
 his fruitless standing, seeing that he neither sold any wares 
 nor asked any almes, went to him and most earnestly 
 begged to know what he wanted there, or what his business 
 was; to which the pedlar honestly answered that he had 
 dreamed that if he came to London and stood there upon 
 the bridge he should hear good newse ; at which the shop- 
 keeper laught heartily, asking him if he was such a fool 
 as to take a journey on such a silly errand, adding : " I'll 
 tell thee, country fellow, last night I dreamed that I was 
 at Sopham, in Norfolk, a place utterly unknown to me, 
 where methought behind a pedlar's house in a certain 
 orchard, and under a great oak tree, if I digged I should 
 find a vast treasure! Now think you," says he, "that I 
 am such a fool to take such a long journey upon me 
 
 ^ Diary of Abraham dela Pryme, p. 220, under date 10 Nov. 1699. 
 (Surtees Society.) 
 
ENGLISH FOLK AND FAIR Y TALES. 77 
 
 upon the instigation of a silly dream ? No, no, I'm wiser. 
 Therefore, good fellow, learn wit from me, and get you 
 home, and mind your business." The pedlar observing 
 his words, what he had say'd he dream'd, and knowing 
 they concentred in him, glad of such joyful! newse, went 
 speedily home, and digged and found a prodigious great 
 treasure, with which he grew exceeding rich ; and SofFham 
 (Church) being for the most part fallen down, he set on 
 workmen and rectified it most sumptuously, at his own 
 charges ; and to this day there is his statue therein, but 
 in stone, with his pack at his back and his dogg at his 
 heels ; and his memory is also preserved by the same form 
 or picture in most of the old glass windows, taverns, and 
 alehouses of that town unto this day. 
 
THE LAMBTON WORM.i 
 
 The park and manor-house of Lambton, belonging to a 
 family of the same name, lie on the banks of the Wear, tu 
 the north of Lumley. The family is a very ancient one, 
 much older, it is believed, than the twelfth century, to 
 which date its pedigree extends. The old castle was dis- 
 mantled in 1797, when a site was adopted for the present 
 mansion on the north bank of the swiftly-flowing Wear, in 
 a situation of exceeding beauty. The park also contains 
 the ruins of a chapel, called Brugeford or Bridgeford, close 
 to one of the bridges which span the Wear. 
 
 Long, long ago — some say about the fourteenth century — 
 the young heir of Lambton led a careless, profane life, 
 regardless alike of his duties to God and man, and in par- 
 ticular neglecting to attend mass, that he might spend his 
 Sunday mornings Jn fishing. One Sunday, while thus 
 engaged, having cast his line into the Wear many times 
 without success, he vented his disappointment in curses 
 loud and deep, to the great scandal of the servants and 
 tenantry as they passed by to the chapel at Brugeford. 
 
 Soon afterwards he felt something tugging at his line, 
 and trusting he had at last secured a fine fish, he exerted 
 all his skill and strength to bring his prey to land. But 
 what were his horror and dismay on finding that, instead of 
 a fish, he had only caught a worm of most unsightly appear- 
 ance ! He hastily tore the thing from his hook, and flung 
 
 * Henderson's Folk- Lore oftht Northern CourUies, p. 287. 
 
ENGLISH FOLK AND FAIR Y TALES, 79 
 
 it into a well close by, which is still known by the name of 
 the Worm Well. 
 
 The young heir had scarcely thrown his line again into 
 the stream when a stranger of venerable appearance, pass- 
 ing by, asked him what sport he had met with ; to which 
 he replied : " Why, truly, I think I have caught the devil 
 himself. Look in and judge." The stranger looked, and 
 remarked that he had never seen the like of it before; 
 that it resembled an eft, only it had nine holes on each 
 side of its mouth ; and, finally, that he thought it boded no 
 good. 
 
 The worm remained unheeded in the well till it outgrew 
 so confined a dwelling-place. It then emerged, and betook 
 itself by day to the river, where it lay coiled round a rock 
 in the middle of the stream, and by night to a neighbouring 
 hill, round whose base it would twine itself, while it con- 
 tinued to grow so fast that it soon could encircle the hill 
 three times. This eminence is still called the Worm Hill. 
 It is oval in shape, on the north side of the Wear, and 
 about a mile and a half from old Lambton Hall. 
 
 The monster now became the terror of the whole country 
 side. It sucked the cows' milk, worried the cattle, devoured 
 the lambs, and committed every sort of depredation on the 
 helpless peasantry. Having laid waste the district on the 
 north side of the river, it crossed the stream and approached 
 Lambton Hall, where the old lord was living alone and 
 desolate. His son had repented of his evil life, and had 
 gone to the wars in a distant country. Some authorities 
 tell us he had embarked as a crusader for the Holy Land. 
 
 On hearing of their enemy's approach, the terrified house- 
 hold assembled in council. Much was said, but to little 
 purpose, till the steward, a man of age and experience, 
 advised that the large trough which stood in the courtyard 
 
8o ENGLISH FOLK 
 
 should immediately be filled with milk. This was done 
 without delay ; the monster approached, drank the milk, and, 
 without doing further harm, returned across the Wear to 
 wrap his giant form around his favourite hill. The next 
 day he was seen recrossing the river ; the trough was 
 hastily filled again, and with the same results. It was 
 found that the milk of " nine kye " was needed to fill the 
 trough ; and if this quantity was not placed there every day, 
 regularly and in full measure, the worm would break out 
 into a violent rage, lashing its tail round the trees in the 
 park, and tearing them up by the roots. 
 
 The Lambton Worm was now, in fact, the terror of the 
 North Country. It had not been left altogether unopposed. 
 Many a gallant knight had come out to fight with the mon- 
 ster, but all to no purpose ; for it possessed the marvellous 
 power of reuniting itself after being cut asunder, and thus was 
 more than a match for the chivalry of the North. So, after 
 many conflicts, and much loss of life and limb, the creature 
 was left in possession of its favourite hilL 
 
 After seven long years, however, the heir of Lambton 
 returned home, a sadder and a wiser man — returned to find 
 the broad lands of his ancestors waste and desolate, his 
 people oppressed and well-nigh exterminated, his father 
 sinking into the grave overwhelmed with care and anxiety. 
 He took no rest, we are told, till he had crossed the river 
 and surveyed the Worm as it lay coiled round the foot of 
 the hill ; then, hearing how its former opponents had 
 failed, he took counsel in the matter from a sibyl or wise 
 woman. 
 
 At first the sibyl did nothing but upbraid him for having 
 brought this scourge upon his house and neighbourhood ; 
 but when she perceived that he was indeed penitent, and 
 desirous at any cost to remove the evil he had caused, she 
 
AND FAIRY TALES. 8i 
 
 gave him her advice and instructions. He was to get his 
 best suit of mail studded thickly with spear-heads, to put it 
 on, and thus armed to take his stand on the rock in the 
 middle of the river, there to meet his enemy, trusting the 
 issue to Providence and his good sword. But she charged 
 him before going to the encounter to take a vow that, if 
 successful, he would slay the first living thing that met him 
 on his way homewards. Should he fail to fulfil this vow, 
 she warned him that for nine generations no lord of 
 Lambton would die in his bed. 
 
 The heir, now a belted knight, made the vow in Bruge- 
 ford chapel. He studded his armour with the sharpest 
 spear-heads, and unsheathing his trusty sword took his 
 stand on the rock in the middle of the Wear. At the 
 accustomed hour the Worm uncoiled its "snaky twine," 
 and wound its way towards the hall, crossing the river close 
 by the rock on which the knight was standing eager for the 
 combat. He struck a violent blow upon the monster's 
 head as it passed, on which the creature, "irritated and 
 vexed," though apparently not injured, flung its tail round 
 him, as if to strangle him in its coils. 
 
 In the words of a local poet — 
 
 " The worm shot down the middle stream 
 
 Like a flash of living light, 
 And the waters kindled round his path 
 
 In rainbow colours bright. 
 But when he saw the armed knight 
 
 He gathered all his pride. 
 And, coiled in many a radiant spire. 
 
 Rode buoyant o'er the tide. 
 When he darted at length his dragon strength 
 
 An earthquake shook the rock, 
 And the fireflakes bright fell round the knight 
 
 As unmoved he met the shock. 
 
82 ENGLISH FOLK AND FAIR Y TALES. 
 
 Though his heart was stout it quailed no doubt, 
 
 His very life-blood ran cold, 
 As round and round the wild Worm wound 
 
 In many a grappling fold. " 
 
 Now was seen the value of the sibyl's advice. The 
 closer the Worm wrapped him in its folds the more deadly 
 were its self-inflicted wounds, till at last the river ran crim- 
 son with its gore. Its strength thus diminished, the knight 
 was able at last with his good sword to cut the serpent in 
 two ; the severed part was immediately borne away by the 
 swiftness of the current, and the Worm, unable to reunite 
 itself, was utterly destroyed. 
 
 During this long and desperate conflict the household of 
 Lambton had shut themselves within-doors to pray for their 
 young lord, he having promised that when it was over he 
 would, if conqueror, blow a blast on his bugle. This would 
 assure his father of his safety, and warn them to let loose 
 the favourite hound, which they had destined as the sacri- 
 fice on the occasion, according to the sibyl's requirements 
 and the young lord's vow. When, however, the bugle-notes 
 were heard within the hall, the old man forgot everything 
 but his son's safety, and rushing out of doors, ran to meet 
 the hero and embrace him. 
 
 The heir of Lambton was thunderstruck ; what could he 
 do? It was impossible to hft his hand against his father; 
 yet how else to fulfil his vow ? In his perplexity he blew 
 another blast ; the hound was let loose, it bounded to its 
 master ; the sword, yet reeking with the monster's gore, was 
 plunged into its heart; but all in vain. The vow was 
 broken, the sibyl's prediction fulfilled, and the curse lay 
 upon the house of Lambton for nine generations. 
 
BOMERE P00L.1 
 
 Many years ago a village stood in the hollow which is now 
 filled up by the mere. But the inhabitants were a wicked 
 race, who mocked at God and His priest. They turned 
 back to tlie idolatrous practices of their fathers, and wor- 
 shipped Thor and Woden ; they scorned to bend the knee, 
 save in mockery, to the White Christ who had died to save 
 their souls. The old priest earnestly warned them that God 
 would punish such wickedness as theirs by some sudden 
 judgment, but they laughed him to scorn. They fastened 
 fish-bones to the skirt of his cassock, and set the children to 
 pelt him with mud and stones. The holy man was not 
 dismayed at this ; nay, he renewed his entreaties and warn- 
 ings, so that some few turned from their evil ways and 
 worshipped with him in the little chapel which stood on the 
 bank of a rivulet that flowed down from the mere on the 
 hill-side. 
 
 The rains fell that December in immense quantities. 
 The mere was swollen beyond its usual limits, and all the 
 hollows in the hills were filled to overflowing. One day 
 when the old priest was on the hill-side gathering fuel he 
 noticed that the barrier of peat, earth, and stones, which 
 prevented the mere from flowing into the valley, was 
 apparently giving way before the mass of water above. He 
 hurried down to the village and besought the men to come 
 up and cut a channel for the discharge of the superfluous 
 
 ^ Miss C. S. Burne, Shropshire Folk-Lore, p. 64. 
 
84 ENGLISH FOLK AND FAIR V TALES. 
 
 waters of the mere. They only greeted his proposal with 
 shouts of derision, and told him to go and mind his prayers, 
 and not spoil their feast with his croaking and his kill-joy 
 presence. 
 
 These heathen were then keeping their winter festival 
 with great revelry. It fell on Christmas Eve. The same 
 night the aged priest summoned his few faithful ones to 
 attend at the midnight mass, which ushered in the feast of 
 our Saviour's Nativity. The night was stormy, and the rain 
 fell in torrents, yet this did not prevent the Uttle flock from 
 coming to the chapel. The old servant of God had already 
 begun the holy sacrifice, when a roar was heard in the upper 
 part of the valley. The server was just ringing the Sanctus 
 bell which hung in the bell-cot, when a flood of water dashed 
 into the church, and rapidly rose till it put out the altar- 
 lights. In a few moments more the whole building was 
 washed away, and the mere, which had burst its mountain 
 barrier, occupied the hollow in which the village had stood. 
 Men say that if you sail over the mere on Christmas Eve, 
 just after midnight, you may hear the Sanctus bell tolling. 
 
GIANTS. 
 
 THE ORIGIN OF THE WREKIN.i 
 
 Once upon a time there was a wicked old giant in Wales 
 who, for some reason or other, had a very great spite against 
 the Mayor of Shrewsbury and all his people, and he made 
 up his mind to dam up the Severn, and by that means cause 
 such a flood that the town would be drowned. 
 
 So off he set, carrying a spadeful of earth, and tramped 
 along mile after mile trying to find the way to Shrewsbury. 
 And how he missed it I cannot tell, but he must have gone 
 wrong somewhere, for at last he got close to Wellington, and 
 by that time he was puffing and blowing under his heavy 
 load, and wishing he was at the end of his journey. By- 
 and-by there came a cobbler along the road with a sack of 
 old boots and shoes on his back, for he lived at Wellington, 
 and went once a fortnight to Shrewsbury to collect his 
 customers' old boots and shoes, and take them home with 
 him to mend. And the giant called out to him. " I say," 
 he said, "how far is it to Shrewsbury?" "Shrewsbury," 
 said the cobbler; "what do you want at Shrewsbury?" 
 "Why," said the giant, "to fill up the Severn with this 
 lump of earth I've got here. I've an old grudge against the 
 Mayor and the folks at Shrewsbury, and now 1 mean to 
 drown them out, and get rid of them all at once." "My 
 ^ Miss C. S. Burne, Shropshire Folk-lore., p. 2. 
 
86 ENGLISH FOLK AND FAIR Y TALES. 
 
 word!" thought the cobbler, "thisll never do! I cnn't 
 afford to lose my customers ! " and he spoke up again. 
 "Eh!" he said, "you'll never get to Shrewsbury — not 
 to-day, nor to-morrow. Why, look at me ! I'm just come 
 from Shrewsbur)', and I've had time to wear out all these 
 old boots and shoes on the road since I started." And he 
 showed him his sack. ** Oh ! " said the giant, with a great 
 groan, "then it's no use! I'm fairly tired out already, and 
 I can't carry this load of mine any farther. I shall just 
 drop it here and go back home." So he dropped the earth 
 on the ground just where he stood, and scraped his boots 
 on the spade, and off he went home again to Wales, and 
 nobody ever heard anything of him in Shropshire after. 
 But where he put down his load there stands the Wrekin to 
 this day ; and even the earth he scraped off his boots was 
 such a pile that it made the little Ercall by the Wrekin's 
 side. 
 
THE BLINDED GIANT.i 
 
 At Dalton, near Thirsk, in Yorkshire, is a mill It has 
 quite recently been rebuilt ; but when I was at Dalton, six 
 years ago, the old building stood. In front of the house 
 was a long mound, which went by the name of "the giant's 
 grave," and in the mill was shown a long blade of iron 
 something like a scythe-blade, but not curved, which was 
 said to have been the giant's knife. A curious story was 
 told of this knife. There lived a giant at this mill, and he 
 ground men's bones to make his bread. One day he cap- 
 tured a lad on Pilmoor, and instead of grinding him in the 
 mill he kept him as his servant, and never let him get away. 
 Jack served the giant many years, and never was allowed a 
 holiday. At last he could bear it no longer. Topcliffe 
 fair was coming on, and the lad entreated that he might be 
 allowed to go there to see the lasses and buy some spice. 
 The giant surlily refused leave : Jack resolved to take it 
 
 The day was hot, and after dinner the giant lay down in 
 the mill with his head on a sack and dozed. He had been 
 eating in the mill, and had laid down a great loaf of bone 
 bread by his side, and the knife was in his hand, but his 
 fingers relaxed their hold of it in sleep. Jack seized the 
 moment, drew the knife away, and holding it with both his 
 hands drove the blade into the single eye of the giant, who 
 woke with a howl of agony, and starting up barred the door. 
 
 ^ Henderson, Notes on the Folk-Lore of the Northern Counties of 
 England and the Borders, p. 195. 
 
88 ENGLISH FOLK AND FAIRY TALES. 
 
 Jack was again in difficulties, but he soon found a way out 
 of them. The giant had a favourite dog, which had also 
 been sleeping when his master was blinded. Jack killed 
 the dog, skinned it, and throwing the hide over his back 
 ran on all-fours barking between the legs of the giant, and 
 so escaped. 
 
FAIRIES. 
 
 WORCESTERSHIRE FAIRIES.^ 
 
 According to tradition, that interesting headland called 
 Oseberrow, or Osebury {vulgo Rosebury) Rock, which lies 
 not far from Alfrick, and is situated upon the border of the 
 river Teme, in Lulsley, opposite to Knightsford Bridge, 
 was a favourite haunt of the fairies {vulgo pharises). It is 
 said they had a cave there (which is still shown) ; and that 
 once upon a time, as a man and boy were ploughing in an 
 adjoining field, they heard an outcry in the copse on the 
 steep declivity of the rock; and upon their going to see 
 what was the matter, they came up to a fairy, who was 
 exclaiming that he had lost his pick, or pick-axe. This, after 
 much search, the ploughman found for him ; and there- 
 upon the fairy said if they would go to a certain corner of 
 the field wherein they had been ploughing, they would get 
 their reward. They accordingly went, and found plenty of 
 bread and cheese, and cider, on which the man feasted 
 heartily; but the boy was so much frightened that he would 
 not partake of the repast. 
 
 It also is said that upon another occasion a fairy came 
 to a ploughman in the same field, and exclaimed : 
 
 " Oh, lend a hammer and a nail, 
 Which we want to mend our pail." 
 
 ' Jabez Allies, On the Antiquities and Folk-Lore of WorcesUrshire^ 
 p. 418. 
 
go ENGLISH FOLK AND FAIR Y TALES. 
 
 There likewise is a saying in the neighbourhood, that if a 
 woman should break her peel (a kind of shovel used in 
 baking bread), and should leave it for a little while at the 
 fairies' cave in Osebury Rock, it would be mended for her. 
 
 In days of yore, when the church at Inkberrow was taken 
 down and rebuilt upon a new site, the fairies, whose haunt 
 was near the latter place, took offence at the change, and 
 endeavoured to obstruct the building by carrying back the 
 materials in the night to the old locality. At length, 
 however, the church was triumphant, but for many a day 
 afterwards the following lament is said to have been 
 occasionally heard : 
 
 " Neither sleep, neither lie, 
 For Inkbro's ting-tang hangs so high." 
 
 The church is a large and handsome edifice, of mixed 
 styles of architecture. It is supposed to have been built 
 about five centuries ago, but has undergone much alteration. 
 
 As a countryman was one day working in a field in 
 Upton Snodsbury, he all of a sudden heard a great outcry 
 in a neighbouring piece of ground, which was followed by a 
 low, mournful voice, saying : " I have broke my bilk, I have 
 broke my bilk;" and thereupon the man picked up the 
 hammer and nails which he had with him, and ran to the 
 spot from whence the outcry came, where he found a fairy 
 lamenting over his broken bilk, which was a kind of cross- 
 barred seat; this the man soon mended, and the fairy, to 
 make him amends for his pains danced round him till he 
 wound him down into a cave, where he was treated with 
 plenty of biscuits and wine ; and it is said that from thence- 
 forward that man always did well in life. 
 
THE FAIRY'S MIDWIFE.i 
 
 Once upon a time there was, in this celebrated town, a 
 Dame Somebody. I do not know her name. All I with 
 truth can say is that she was old, and nothing the worse for 
 that ; for age is, or ought to be, held in honour as the source 
 of wisdom and experience. Now this good old woman 
 lived not in vain, for she had passed her days in the useful 
 capacity of a nurse ; and as she approached the term of 
 going out of the world herself, she was still useful in her 
 generation by helping others into it — she was in fact the 
 Sage-femme of the village. 
 
 One night about twelve o'clock in the morning, as the 
 good folks say who tell the tale. Dame Somebody had just 
 got comfortably into bed, when rap, rap, rap, came on her 
 cottage door, with such bold, loud, and continued noise, 
 that there was a sound of authority in every individual 
 knock. Startled and alarmed by the call, she arose, and 
 soon learnt that the summons was a hasty one to bid her 
 attend on a patient who needed her help. She opened her 
 door; when the summoner appeared to be a strange, 
 squint-eyed, little, ugly, old fellow, who had a look, as she 
 said, very like a certain dark personage, who ought not at 
 all times to be called by his proper name. Not at all 
 prepossessed in favour of the errand by the visage of the 
 messenger, she nevertheless could not, or dared not, resist 
 
 ^ Mrs. Bray, The Borders of the Tamar and Iht Tavy, voL i. 
 p. 174. 
 
92 ENGLISH FOLK 
 
 the command to follow him straight and attend upon " his 
 wife." 
 
 " Thy wife ! " thought the good dame : " Heaven forgive 
 me ; but as sure as I live I be going to the birth of a little 
 divel." A large coal-black horse, with eyes like balls of 
 fire, stood at the door. The ill-looking old fellow, without 
 more ado, whisked her up on a high pillion in a minute, 
 seated himself before her, and away went horse and riders, 
 as if sailing through the air rather than trotting on the 
 ground. How Dame Somebody got to the place of her 
 destination she could not tell ; but it was a great relief to 
 her fears when she found herself set down at the door of 
 a neat cottage, saw a couple of tidy children, and remarked 
 her patient to be a decent-looking woman, having all things 
 about her fitting the time and the occasion. 
 
 A fine bouncing babe soon made its appearance, and 
 seemed very bold on its entry into life, for it gave the good 
 dame a box on the ear, as, with the coaxing and cajolery of 
 all good old nurses, she declared the " sweet little thing to 
 be very like its father." The mother said nothing to this, 
 but gave nurse a certain ointment with directions that she 
 should "strike the child's eyes with it." Now you must 
 know that this word " strike," in our Devonshire vocabulary, 
 does not exactly mean to give a blow, but rather what is 
 opposite, to " rub, smooth down, or touch gently." The 
 nurse performed her task, though she thought it an odd 
 one ; and as it is nothing new that old nurses are generally 
 very curious, she wondered what it could be for; and 
 thought that, as no doubt it was a good thing, she might 
 just as well try it upon her own eyes as those of the baby, 
 so she made free to strike one of them by way of trial ; 
 when, oh ye powers of fairyland, what a change was 
 there 1 The neat but homely cottage, and all who were 
 
AND FAIRY TALES. 93 
 
 in it, seemed all on a sudden to undergo a mighty 
 transformation, some for the better, some for the worse. 
 The new-made mother appeared as a beautiful lady attired 
 in white ; the babe was seen wrapped in swaddling clothes 
 of a silvery gauze. It looked much prettier than before, 
 but still maintained the elfish cast of the eye, Uke its 
 redoubted father j whilst two or three children more had 
 undergone a metamorphosis as uncouth as that recorded by 
 Ovid when the Cercopians were transformed into apes. 
 For there sat on either side of the bed's head a couple of 
 little flat-nosed imps, who with "mops and mows," and 
 with many a grimace and grin, were "busied to no end" in 
 scratching their own polls, or in pulling the fairy lady's ears 
 with their long and hairy paws. The dame, who beheld all 
 this, fearing she knew not what in the house of enchant- 
 ment, got away as fast as she could without saying one word 
 about " striking " her own eye with the magic ointment, and 
 what she had beheld in consequence of doing so. The 
 sour-looking old fellow once more handed her up on the 
 coal-black horse, and sent her home in a whip-sissa. Now 
 what a whip-sissa means is more than I can tell, though I 
 consider myself to be tolerably well acquainted with the 
 tongues of this " West Countrie." It may mean perhaps, 
 "Whip, says he," in allusion to some gentle intimation 
 being feelingly given by the rider to the horse's sides with a 
 switch, that he should use the utmost despatch. Certain it 
 is, the old woman returned home much faster than she 
 went. But mark the event. On the next market-day, when 
 she sallied forth to sell her eggs, whom should she see but 
 the same wicked-looking old fellow, busied, like a rogue as 
 he was, in pilfering sundry articles from stall to stall. " Oh! 
 oh !" thought the dame, "have I caught you, you old thief? 
 But I'll let you see I could set Master Mayor and the two 
 
94 ENGLISH FOLK AND FAIRY TALES. 
 
 town constables on your back, if I chose to be telling." So 
 up she went, and with that bold, free sort of air which 
 persons who have learnt secrets that ought not to be known 
 are apt to assume when they address any great rogue 
 hitherto considered as a superior, she inquired carelessly 
 after his wife and child, and hoped both were as well as 
 could be expected. 
 
 " What 1 " exclaimed the old pixy thief, " do you see me 
 to-day?" 
 
 " See you ! to be sure I do, as plain as I see the sun in 
 the skies; and I see you are busy into the bargain." 
 
 " Do you so ? " cried he. *' Pray with which eye do you 
 see all this ? " 
 
 "With the right eye, to be sure." 
 
 " The ointment ! the ointment I " exclaimed the old 
 fellow. " Take that for meddling with what did not belong 
 to you — you shall see me no more," 
 
 He struck her eye as he spoke, and from that hour till 
 the day of her death she was blind on the right side, thus 
 dearly paying for having gratified an idle curiosity in the 
 house of a pixy. 
 
THE ADVENTURE OF CHERRY OF ZENNOR.1 
 
 Old Honey lived with his wife and family in a little 
 hut of two rooms and a "talfat,"^ on the cliff side of 
 Trereen in 2^nnor. The old couple had half a score 
 of children, who were all reared in this place. They 
 lived as they best could on the produce of a few acres of 
 ground, which were too poor to keep even a goat in good 
 heart. The heaps of crogans (limpet shells) about the hut 
 led one to believe that their chief food was limpets and 
 gweans (periwinkles). They had, however, fish and pota- 
 toes most days, and pork and broth now and then of a 
 Sunday. At Christmas and the Feast they had white 
 bread. There was not a healthier nor a handsomer family 
 in the parish than Old Honey's. We are, however, only 
 concerned with one of them, his daughter Cherry. Cherry 
 could run as fast as a hare, and was ever full of frolic and 
 mischiet 
 
 Whenever the miller's boy came into the " town," tied his 
 horse to the furze rick, and called in to see if any one 
 desired to send corn to the mill, Cherry would jump on to 
 its back and gallop off to the cliff. When the miller's boy 
 gave chase, and she could ride no further over the edge of 
 that rocky coast she would take to the cairns, and the 
 
 ^ Robert Hunt, Popular Romances of the West of England, ist 
 series, p. 11 8. 
 
 ' Talfat is a half floor at one end of a cottage on which a bed is 
 placed. 
 
96 ENGLISH FOLK 
 
 swiftest dog could not catch her, much less the miller's 
 boy. 
 
 Soon after Cherry got into her teens she became very 
 discontented, because year after year her mother had been 
 promising her a new frock that she might go off as smart as 
 the rest, "three on one horse to Morva fair."^ As certain 
 as the time came round the money was wantmg, so Cherry 
 had nothing decent She could neither go to fair, nor to 
 church, nor to meeting. 
 
 Cherry was sixteen. One of her playmates had a new 
 dress smartly trimmed with ribbons, and she told Cherry 
 how she had been to Nancledry to the preaching, and 
 how she had ever so many sweethearts who brought her 
 home. This put the volatile Cherry in a fever of desire. 
 She declared to her mother she would go off to the " low 
 countries " ^ to seek for service, that she might get some 
 clothes like other girls. 
 
 Her mother wished her to go to Towednack that she 
 might have the chance of seeing her now and then of a 
 Sunday. 
 
 " No, no ! " said Cherry, •' I'll never go to live in the 
 parish where the cow ate the bell-rope, and where they have 
 fish and taties (potatoes) every day, and conger-pie of a 
 Sunday, for a change." 
 
 One fine morning Cherry tied up a few things in a bundle 
 and prepared to start. She promised her father that she 
 would get service as near home as she could, and come 
 home at the earliest opportunity. The old man said she 
 was bewitched, charged her to take care she wasn't carried 
 
 ^ A Cornish proverb. 
 
 * The terms "high" and "low countries" are appHed respectively 
 to the hills and the valleys of the country about Towednack and 
 Zennor. 
 
AND FAIRY TALES. 97 
 
 away by either the sailors or pirates, and allowed her to 
 depart. Cherry took the road leading to Ludgvan and 
 GulvaL When she lost sight of the chimneys of Trereen, 
 she got out of heart and had a great mind to go home 
 again. But she went on. 
 
 At length she came to the "four cross roads" on the 
 Lady Downs, sat herself down on a stone by the road-side, 
 and cried to think of her home, which she might never see 
 again. 
 
 Her crying at last came to an end, and she resolved to 
 go home and make the best of it 
 
 When she dried her eyes and held up her head she was 
 surprised to see a gentleman coming towards her ; for she 
 couldn't think where he came from ; no one was to be seen 
 on the Downs a few minutes before. 
 
 The gentleman wished her " good morning," inquired the 
 road to Towednack, and asked Cherry where she was going. 
 
 Cherry told the gentleman that she had left home that 
 morning to look for service, but that her heart had failed 
 her, and she was going back over the hills to Zennor again. 
 
 " I never expected to meet with such luck as this," said 
 the gentleman. " I left home this morning to seek for a 
 nice clean girl to keep house for me, and here you are." 
 
 He then told Cherry that he had been recently left a 
 widower, and that he had one dear little boy, of whom 
 Cherry might have charge. Cherry was the very girl that 
 would suit him. She was handsome and cleanly. He 
 could see that her clothes were so mended that the first 
 piece could not be discovered ; yet she was as sweet as a 
 rose, and all the water in the sea could not make her 
 cleaner. Poor Cherry said " Yes, sir," to everything, yet 
 she did not understand one quarter part of what the 
 gentleman said. Her mother had instructed her to say 
 
98 ENGLISH FOLK 
 
 "Yes, sir," to the parson, or any gentleman, when, like 
 herself, she did not understand them. The gentleman told 
 her he lived but a short way o% down in the low countries ; 
 that she would have very little to do but milk the cow and 
 look after the baby ; so Cherry consented to go with him. 
 
 Away they went ; he talking so kindly that Cherry had 
 no notion how time was moving, and she quite forgot the 
 distance she had walked. 
 
 At length they were in lanes, so shaded with trees that a 
 checker of sunshine scarcely gleamed on the road. As far 
 as she could see, all was trees and flowers. Sweet briars 
 and honeysuckles perfumed the air, and the reddest of ripe 
 apples hung from the trees over the lane. 
 
 Then they came to a stream of water as clear as crystal, 
 which ran across the lane. It was, however, very dark, and 
 Cherry paused to see how she should cross the river. The 
 gentleman put his arm around her waist and carried her 
 over, so that she did not wet her feet. 
 
 The lane was getting darker and darker, and narrower 
 and narrower, and they seemed to be going rapidly down 
 hill. Cherry took firm hold of the gentleman's arm, and 
 thought, as he had been so kind to her, she could go with 
 him to the world's end. 
 
 After walking a little further, the gentleman opened a 
 gate which led into a beautiful garden, and said: "Cherry, 
 my dear, this is the place we live in." 
 
 Cherry could scarcely believe her eyes. She had never 
 seen anything approaching this place for beauty. Flowers 
 of every dye were around her; fruits of all kinds hung 
 above her \ and the birds, sweeter of song than any she had 
 ever heard, burst out into a chorus of rejoicing. She had 
 heard granny tell of enchanted places. Could this be one 
 of them ? No. The gentleman was as big as the parson ; 
 
AND FAIRY TALES. 99 
 
 and now a little boy came running down the garden walk 
 shouting : " Papa, papa," 
 
 The child appeared, from his size, to be about two or 
 three years of age ; but there was a singular look of age 
 about him. His eyes were brilliant and piercing, and he 
 had a crafty expression. As Cherry said, " He could look 
 anybody down." 
 
 Before Cherry could speak to the child, a very old dry- 
 boned, ugly-looking woman made her appearance, and 
 seizing the child by the arm, dragged him into the house, 
 mumbling and scolding. Before, however, she was lost 
 sight of, the old hag cast one look at Cherry, which shot 
 through her heart "like a gimblet." 
 
 Seeing Cherry somewhat disconcerted, the master ex- 
 plained that the old woman was his late wife's grandmother : 
 that she would remain with them until Cherry knew her 
 work, and no longer, for she was old and ill-tempered, and 
 must go. At length, having feasted her eyes on the garden, 
 Cherry was taken into the house, and this was yet more 
 beautiful Flowers of every kind grew everywhere, and the 
 sun seemed to shine everywhere, and yet she did not see 
 the sun. 
 
 Aunt Prudence — so was the old woman named — spread 
 a table in a moment with a great variety of nice things, and 
 Cherry made a hearty supper. She was now directed to go 
 to bed, in a chamber at the top of the house, in which the 
 child was to sleep also. Prudence directed Cherry to keep 
 her eyes closed, whether she could sleep or not, as she 
 might, perchance, see things which she would not like. 
 She was not to speak to the child all night. She was to 
 rise at break of day ; then take the boy to a spring in the 
 garden, wash him, and anoint his eyes with an ointment, 
 which she would find in a crystal box in a cleft of the rock. 
 
too ENGLISH FOLK 
 
 but she was not on any account to touch her own eyes 
 with it. Then Cherry was to call the cow ; and having 
 taken a bucket full of milk, to draw a bowl of the last milk 
 for the boy's breakfast. Cherry was dying with curiosity. 
 She several times began to question' the child, but he always 
 stopped her with : " I'll tell Aunt Prudence." According to 
 her orders, Cherry was up in the morning early. The 
 little boy conducted the girl to the spring, which flowed in 
 crystal purity from a granite rock, which was covered with 
 ivy and beautiful mosses. The child was duly washed, and 
 his eyes duly anointed. Cherry saw no cow, but her little 
 charge said she must call the cow. 
 
 " Pruit ! pruit ! pruit ! " called Cherry, just as she would 
 call the cows at home; when, lo! a beautiful great cow 
 came from amongst the trees, and stood on the bank beside 
 Cherry. 
 
 Cherry had no sooner placed her hands on the cow's teats 
 than four streams of milk flowed down and soon filled the 
 bucket. The boy's bowl was then filled, and he drank it. 
 This being done, the cow quietly walked away, and Cherry 
 returned to the house to be instructed in her daily 
 work. 
 
 The old woman, Prudence, gave Cherry a capital break- 
 fast, and then informed her that she must keep to the 
 kitchen, and attend to her work there — to scald the milk, 
 make the butter, and clean all the platters and bowls with 
 water and gard (gravel sand). Cherry was charged to 
 avoid curiosity. She was not to go into any other part of 
 the house ; she was not to try and open any locked doors. 
 
 After her ordinary work was done on the second day, her 
 master required Cherry to help him in the garden, to pick 
 the apples and pears, and to weed the leeks and onions. 
 
 Glad was Cherry to get out of the old woman's sight. 
 
AND FAIRY TALES. loi 
 
 Aunt Prudence always sat with one eye on her knitting, and 
 the other boring through poor Cherry. Now and then she'd 
 grumble : " I knew Robin would bring down some fool from 
 Zennor — better for both that she had tarried away." 
 
 Cherry and her master got on famously, and whenever 
 Cherry had finished weeding a bed, her master would give 
 her a kiss to show her how pleased he was. 
 
 After a few days, old Aunt Prudence took Cherry into 
 those parts of the house which she had never seen. They 
 passed through a long dark passage. Cherry was then made 
 to take off her shoes ; and they entered a room, the floor 
 of which was like glass, and all round, perched on the 
 shelves, and on the floor, were people, big and small, turned 
 to stone. Of some, there were only the head and shoulders, 
 the arms being cut off; others were perfect. Cherry told 
 the old woman she "wouldn't cum ony furder for the 
 wurld." She thought from the first she was got into a land 
 of Small People underground, only master was like other 
 men ; .but now she know'd she was with the conjurers, who 
 had turned all these people to stone. She had heard talk 
 on 'em up in Zennor, and she knew they might at any 
 moment wake up and eat her. 
 
 Old Prudence laughed at Cherry, and drove her on, 
 insisted upon her rubbing up a box, "like a coffin on six 
 legs," until she could see her face in it. Well, Cherry did 
 not want for courage, so she began to rub with a will ; the 
 old woman standing by, knitting all the time, calling out 
 every now and then : " Rub ! rub ! rub ! Harder and 
 faster ! " At length Cherry got desperate, and giving a 
 violent rub at one of the corners, she nearly upset the box. 
 ^Vhen, O Lor ! it gave out such a doleful, unearthly sound, 
 that Cherry thought all the stone people were coming to 
 life, and with her fright she fell down in a fit The master 
 
 9 
 
io2 ENGLISH FOLK 
 
 heard all this noise, and came in to inquire into the cause 
 of the hubbub. He was in great wrath, kicked old 
 Prudence out of the house for taking Cherry into that shut- 
 up room, carried Cherry into the kitchen, and soon, with 
 some cordial, recovered her senses. Cherry could not 
 remember what had happened ; but she knew there was 
 something fearful in the other part of the house. But 
 Cherry was mistress now — old Aunt Prudence was gone. 
 Her master was so kind and loving that a year passed by 
 like a summer day. Occasionally her master left home for 
 a season j then he would return and spend much time in 
 the enchanted apartments, and Cherry was certain she had 
 heard him talking to the stone people. Cherry had every- 
 thing the human heart could desire; but she was not 
 happy ; she would know more of the place and the people. 
 Cherry had discovered that the ointment made the little 
 boy's eyes bright and strange, and she thought often that he 
 saw more than she did ; she would try ; yes, she would ! 
 
 Well, next morning the child was washed, his eyes 
 anointed, and the cow milked ; she sent the boy to gather 
 her some flowers in the garden, and taking a " crum " of 
 ointment, she put it into her eye. Oh, her eye would 
 be burned out of her head ! Cherry ran to the pool 
 beneath the rock to wash her burning eye; when lo ! she 
 saw at the bottom of the water hundreds of little people, 
 mostly ladies, playing — and there was her master, as small 
 as the others, playing with them. Everything now looked 
 different about the place. Small people were everywhere, 
 hiding in the flowers sparkling with diamonds, swinging in 
 the trees, and running and leaping under and over the 
 blades of grass. The master never showed himself above 
 the water all day ; but at night he rode up to the house 
 like the handsome gentleman she had seen before. He 
 
AND FAIRY TALES. 103 
 
 went to the enchanted chamber, and Cherry soon heard the 
 most beautiful music. 
 
 In the morning her master was off, dressed as if to 
 follow the hounds. He returned at night, left Cherry 
 to herself, and proceeded at once to his private apartments. 
 Thus it was day after day, until Cherry could stand it no 
 longer. So she peeped through the key-hole, and saw her 
 master with lots of ladies, singing ; while one dressed like 
 a queen was playing on the coffin. Oh, how madly jealous 
 Cherry became when she saw her master kiss this lovely 
 lady. However, the next day the master remained at 
 home to gather fruit. Cherry was to help him, and when, 
 as usual, he looked to kiss her, she slapped his face, and 
 told him to kiss the Small People, like himself, with whom 
 he played under the water. So he found out that Cherry 
 had used the ointment. With much sorrow, he told her she 
 must go home, that he would have no spy on his actions, 
 and that Aunt Prudence must come back. Long before 
 day, Cherry was called by her master. He gave her lots of 
 clothes and other things ; took her bundle in one hand, and 
 a lantern in the other, and bade her follow him. They 
 went on for miles on miles, all the time going up-hill, 
 through lanes, and narrow passages. When they came at 
 last on level ground, it was near daybreak. He kissed 
 Cherry, told her she was punished for her idle curiosity; 
 but that he would, if she behaved well, come sometimes on 
 the Lady Downs to see her. Saying this, he disappeared. 
 The sun rose, and there was Cherry seated on a granite 
 stone, without a soul within miles of her — a desolate moor 
 having taken the place of a smiling garden. Long, long 
 did Cherry sit in sorrow, but at last she thought she would 
 go home. 
 
 Her parents had supposed her dead, and when they saw 
 
I04 ENGLISH FOLK AND FAIRY TALES. 
 
 her, they believed her to be her own ghost. Cherry told 
 her story, which every one doubted, but Cherry never 
 varied her tale, and at last every one believed it. They say 
 Cherry was never afterwards right in her head, and on 
 moonlight nights, until she died, she would wander on to 
 the I^dy Downs to look for her master. 
 
THE FAIRY FUNERAL.^ 
 
 The parish church of Lelant is curiously situated amidst 
 hills of blown sand, near the entrance of the creek of Hayle. 
 The sandy waste around the church is called the Towen ; 
 and this place was long the scene of the midnight gambols 
 of the Small People. In the adjoining village — or, as it 
 is called in Cornwall, the "church-town" — lived an old 
 woman who had been, according to her own statement, a 
 frequent witness to the use made by the fairies of the 
 Towen. Her husband, also, had seen some extraordinary 
 scenes on the same spot. From her — to me, oft-repeated 
 description — I get the following tale: — It was the fishing 
 season; and Richard had been to St. Ives for some fish. 
 He was returning, laden with pilchards, on a beautiful 
 moonlight night; and as he ascended the hill from St 
 Ives he thought he heard the bell of Lelant church tolling. 
 Upon a nearer approach he saw lights in the church ; and 
 most distinctly did the bell toll — not with its usual clear 
 sound, but dull and heavy as if it had been mufiled, scarcely 
 awakening any echo. Richard walked towards the church, 
 and cautiously, but not without fear, approaching one of 
 the windows, looked in. At first he could not perceive any 
 one within, nor discover whence the light came by which 
 everything was so distinctly illuminated. At length he saw, 
 moving along the centre aisle, a funeral procession. The 
 
 ' Robert Hunt, Popular Romancu of the West of England, 1st scries, 
 P-93- 
 
io6 ENGLISH FOLK AND FAIRY TALES. 
 
 little people who crowded the aisle, although they all looked 
 very sorrowful, were not dressed in any mourning garments 
 — so far from it they wore wreaths of little roses, and 
 carried branches of the blossoming myrtle. Richard 
 beheld the bier borne between six — whether men or women 
 he could not tell — but he saw that the face of the corpse 
 was that of a beautiful female, smaller than the smallest 
 child's doll. It was, Richard said, "as if it were a dead 
 seraph," — so very lovely did it appear to him. The body 
 was covered with white flowers, and its hair, like gold 
 threads, was tangled amongst the blossoms. The body 
 was placed within the altar j and then a large party 
 of men, with picks and spades, began to dig a little hole 
 close by the sacramental table. Their task being 
 completed, others, with great care, removed the body 
 and placed it in the hole. The entire company crowded ^ 
 around, eager to catch a parting glimpse of that beauti- 
 ful corpse ere yet it was placed in the earth. As it 
 was lowered into the ground they began to tear off their 
 flowers and break their branches of myrtle, crying: " Our 
 queen is dead ! our queen is dead ! " At length one of the 
 men who had dug the grave threw a shovelful of earth upon 
 the body; and the shriek of the fairy host so alarmed 
 Richard, that he involuntarily joined in it In a moment 
 all the lights were extinguished, and the fairies were heard 
 flying in great consternation in every direction. Many of 
 them brushed past the terrified man, and, shrieking, pierced 
 him with sharp instruments. He was compelled to save his 
 life by the most rapid flight. 
 
THE PISKIES IN THE CELLAR.^ 
 
 On the Thursday immediately preceding Christmas-tide 
 (year not recorded) were assembled at " The Rising Sun " 
 the captain and men of a Stream Work^ in the Cousc 
 below. This Couse was a flat alluvial moor, broken by 
 gigantic mole-hills, the work of many a generation of 
 tinners. One was half inclined, on looking at the turmoiled 
 ground, to believe with them that the tin grew in successive • 
 crops, for, after years of turning and searching, there was 
 still enough left to give the landlord his dole, and to furnish 
 wages to some dozen Streamers. This night was a festival 
 observed in honour of one Picrous^ and intended to 
 celebrate the discovery of tin on this day by a man of that 
 name. The feast is still kept, though the observance has 
 dwindled to a supper and its attendant merrymaking. 
 
 Our story has especially to do with the adventures of one 
 of the party, John Sturtridge, who, well primed with ale, 
 started on his homeward way for Luxulyan Church-town. 
 John had got as far as Tregarden Down without any mishap 
 worth recording, when, alas ! he happed upon a party of 
 the little people, who were at their sports in the shelter of 
 a huge granite boulder. Assailed by shouts of derisive 
 
 ^ Robert Hunt, Popular Romances of the West of England, 1st 
 series, p. 76. 
 
 ^ A " Stream Work " is a place where tin is obtained from the 
 drift deposits. " Streamers " are the tinners who wash out the tin. 
 
 * Picrous day is still kept up in Luxulyan. 
 
io8 ENGLISH FOLK AND FAIR Y TALES. 
 
 laughter, he hastened on frightened and bewildered, but 
 the Down, well known from early experience, became like 
 ground untrodden, and after long trial no gate or stile was 
 to be found. He was getting vexed, as well as puzzled, 
 when a chorus of tiny voices shouted : " Ho ! and away for 
 Par Beach ! " John repeated the shout, and was in an 
 instant caught up, and in a twinkling found himself on the 
 sands of Par. A brief dance, and the cry was given : '* Ho ! 
 and away for Squire Tremain's cellar ! " A repetition of the 
 Piskie cry found John with his elfish companions in the 
 cellars at Heligan, where was beer and wine galore. It need 
 not be said that he availed himself of his opportunities. The 
 mixture of all the good liquors so affected him that, alas ! 
 he forgot in time to catch up the next cry of " Ho ! and 
 away for Par Beach ! " In the morning John was found by 
 the butler, groping and tumbling among butts and barrels, 
 very much muddled with the squire's good drink. His 
 strange story, very incoherently told, was not credited by 
 the squire, who committed him to jail for the burglary, and 
 in due time he was convicted and sentenced to death. 
 
 The morning of his execution arrived ; a large crowd had 
 assembled, and John was standing under the gallows tree, 
 when a commotion was observed in the crowd, and a little 
 lady of commanding mien made her way through the open- 
 ing throng to the scaffold. In a shrill, sweet voice, which 
 John recognised, she cried : " Ho ! and away for France ! " 
 which being replied to, he was rapt from the ofificers of 
 justice, leaving them and the multitude mute with wonder 
 and disappointment. 
 
EDWIN AND SIR TOPAZ. 
 
 In Britain's isle and Arthur's days, 
 Wiien midnight faeries daunc'd the maze, 
 
 Liv'd Edwin of the green ; 
 Edwin, I wis, a gentle youth, 
 Endow'd with courage, sense, and truth, 
 
 Though badly shap'd he been. 
 
 His mountain back mote well be said 
 1 o measure heighth against his head, 
 
 And lift itself above : 
 Yet spite of all that Nature did 
 To make his uncouth form forbid, 
 
 This creature dar'd to love. 
 
 He felt the charms of Edith's eyes, 
 Nor wanted hope to gain the prize, 
 
 Could ladies look within ; 
 But one Sir Topaz dress'd with art, 
 And, if a shape could win a heart, 
 
 He had a shape to win. 
 
 Edwin, if right I read my song, 
 With slighted passion pac'd along 
 
 All in the moony light : 
 'Twas near an old enchanted court, 
 Where sportive faeries made resort 
 
 To revel out the night. 
 
 1 T. Pamell, Poems, Aldine Edition, p. 55, 
 
1 1 o ENGLISH FOLK 
 
 His heart was drear, his hope was cross'd, 
 'Twas late, 'twas farr, the path was lost 
 
 That reach'd the neighbour-town ; 
 With weary steps he quits the shades, 
 Resolv'd the darkling dome he treads, 
 
 And drops his limbs adown. 
 
 But scant he lays him on the floor, 
 When hollow winds remove the door, 
 
 A trembling rocks the ground : 
 And, well I ween to count aright, 
 At once an hundred tapers light 
 
 On all the walls around. 
 
 Now sounding tongues assail his ear, 
 Now sounding feet approachen near. 
 
 And now the sounds encrease ; 
 And from the corner where he lay 
 He sees a train profusely gay 
 
 Come pranckling o'er the place. 
 
 But, trust me, gentles, never yet 
 Was dight a masquing half so neat, 
 
 Or half so rich before ; 
 The country lent the sweet perfumes, 
 The sea the pearl, the sky the plumes. 
 
 The town its silken store. 
 
 Now whilst he gazed, a gallant drest 
 In flaunting robes above the rest, 
 
 With awfull accent cried : 
 " What mortal of a wretched mind, 
 Whose sighs infect the balmy wind, 
 
 Has here presumed to hide ? " 
 
AND FAIR Y TALES. 
 
 At this the swain, whose venturous soul 
 No fears of magic art controul, 
 
 Advanc'd in open sight. 
 " Nor have I cause of dreed," he said, 
 "Who view, by no presumption led. 
 
 Your revels of the night 
 
 " 'Twas grief for scorn of faithful love, 
 Which made my steps unweeting rove 
 
 Amid the nightly dew." 
 '"Tis well," the gallant cries again, 
 " We faeries never injure men 
 
 Who dare to tell us true. 
 
 " Exalt thy love-dejected heart, 
 Be mine the task, or ere we part, 
 
 To make thee grief resign ; 
 Now take the pleasure of thy chaunce ; 
 Whilst I with Mab, my partner, daunce, 
 
 Be little Mable thine ! " 
 
 He spoke, and all a sudden there 
 Light musick floats in wanton air ; 
 
 The monarch leads the queen ; 
 The rest their faerie partners found, 
 And Mable trimly tript the ground 
 
 With Edwin of the green. 
 
 The dauncing past, the board was laid, 
 And siker such a feast was made 
 
 As heart and lip desire ; 
 Withouten hands the dishes fly, 
 The glasses with a wish come nigh, 
 
 And with a wish retire. 
 
112 ENGLISH FOLK 
 
 But now to please the faery king, 
 Full every deal they laugh and sing, 
 
 And antick feats devise ; 
 Some wind and tumble like an ape, 
 And other-some transmute their shape 
 
 In Edwin's wondering eyes. 
 
 I'ill one at last that Robin hight, 
 Renown'd for pinching maids by night, 
 
 Has hent him up aloof; 
 And full against the beam he flung, 
 Where by the back the youth he hung 
 
 To sprawl unneath the roof. 
 
 From thence, " Reverse my charm," he cries, 
 *' And let it fairly now suffice 
 
 The gambol has been shown." 
 But Oberon answers with a smile, 
 *' Content thee, Edwin, for a while. 
 
 The vantage is thine own." 
 
 Here ended all the phantome play; 
 They smelt the fresh approach of day. 
 
 And heard a cock to crow ; 
 The whirling wind that bore the crowd 
 Has clapp'd the door, and whistled loud 
 
 To warn them all to go. 
 
 Then screaming all at once they fly. 
 And all at once the tapers die ; 
 
 Poor Edwin falls to floor ; 
 Forlorn his state, and dark the place, 
 Was never wight in such a case 
 
 Through all the land before. 
 
AND FAIRY TALES. 113 
 
 But soon as Dan Apollo rose, 
 Full jolly creature home he goes, 
 
 He feels his back the less ; 
 His honest tongue and steady mind 
 Han rid him of the lump behind 
 
 Which made him want success. 
 
 With lusty livelyhed he talks, 
 He seems adauncing as he walks ; 
 
 His story soon took wind j 
 And beauteous Edith sees the youth, 
 Endow'd with courage, sense, and truth 
 
 Without a bunch behind. 
 
 The story told, Sir Topaz mov'd, 
 The youth of Edith erst approv'd, 
 
 To see the revel scene. 
 At close of eve he leaves his home, 
 And wends to find the ruin'd dome 
 
 All on the gloomy plain. 
 
 As there he bides, it so befell, 
 
 The wind came rustling down a dellj 
 
 A shaking seiz'd the wall : 
 Up sprang the tapers as before, 
 The faeries bragly foot the floor, 
 
 And musick fills the hall. 
 
 But, certes, sorely sunk with woe, 
 Sir Topaz sees the elfin show, 
 
 His spirits in him die : 
 When Oberon cries, " A man is near 
 A mortall passion, cleeped fear, 
 
 Hangs flagging in the sky." 
 
1 1 4 ENGLISH FOLK 
 
 With that Sir Topaz, hapless youth, 
 In accents faultering ay for ruth 
 
 Intreats them pity graunt ; 
 For als he been a mister wight 
 Betray'd by wandering in the night 
 
 To tread the circled haunt, 
 
 " Ah losell vile ! " at once they roar, 
 " And little skill'd of faerie lore, 
 
 Thy cause to come we know : 
 Now has thy kestrell courage fell ; 
 And faeries, since a lie you tell. 
 
 Are free to work thee woe." 
 
 Then Will, who bears the wispy fire 
 To trail the swains among the mire, 
 
 The caitive upward flung ; 
 There like a tortoise in a shop 
 He dangled from the chamber-top 
 
 Where whilome Edwin hung. 
 
 The revel now proceeds apace, 
 Deffly they frisk it o'er the place, 
 
 They sit, they drink, and eat ; 
 The time with frolick mirth beguile. 
 And poor Sir Topaz hangs the while 
 
 Till all the rout retreat. 
 
 By this the Starrs began to wink, 
 They shriek, they fly, the tapers sink, 
 
 And down ydrops the knight : 
 For never spell by faerie laid 
 With strong enchantment bound a glade 
 
 Beyond the length of night. 
 
AND FAIRY TALES. 115 
 
 Chill, dark, alone, adreed, he lay, 
 Till up the welkin rose the day. 
 
 Then deem'd the dole was o'er : 
 But wot ye well his harder lot ? 
 His seely back the bunch has got- 
 
 Which Edwin lost afore. 
 
 This tale a Sybil-nurse ared ; 
 
 She softly stroked my youngling head,. 
 
 And when the tale was done, 
 " Thus some are born, my son," she cries, 
 " With base impediment to rise. 
 
 And some are born with none. 
 
 " But virtue can itself advance 
 
 To what the favourite fools of chance 
 
 By fortune seem'd design'd ; 
 Virtue can gain the odds of fate. 
 And from itself shake off the weight 
 
 Upon th' unworthy mind." 
 
THE TWO SERVING DAMSELS.^ 
 
 Two serving damsels of this place declared, as an excuse, 
 perhaps, for spending more money than they ought upon 
 finery, that the pixies were very kind to them, and would 
 often drop silver for their pleasure into a bucket of fair 
 water, which they placed for the accommodation of those 
 little beings in the chimney corner every night before they 
 went to bed. Once, however, it was forgotten, and the 
 pixies, finding themselves disappointed by an empty bucket, 
 whisked upstairs to the maids' bedroom, popped through 
 the keyhole, and began in a very audible tone to exclaim 
 against the laziness and neglect of the damsels. One of 
 them who lay awake and heard all this, jogged her fellow- 
 servant, and proposed getting up immediately to repair the 
 fault of omission; but the lazy girl, who liked not being 
 disturbed out of a comfortable nap, pettishly declared "that, 
 for her part, she would not stir out of bed to please all the 
 pixies in Devonshire." The good-humoured damsel, how- 
 ever, got up, filled the bucket, and was rewarded by a 
 handful of silver pennies found in it the next morning. 
 But ere that time had arrived, what was her alarm as she 
 crept towards the bed, to hear all the elves in high and 
 stern debate, consulting as to what punishment should be 
 
 ^ Mrs. Bray, The Borders of tht Tamar and the Tavy, vol. i. 
 p. 178. 
 
ENGLISH FOLK AND FAIRY TALES. 117 
 
 inflicted on the lazy lass who would not stir for their 
 pleasure. 
 
 Some proposed "pinches, nips, and bobs," others to 
 spoil her new cherry-coloured bonnet and ribands. One 
 talked of sending her the toothache, another of giving her a 
 red nose ; but this last was voted a too vindictive punish- 
 ment for a pretty young woman. So, tempering mercy with 
 justice, the pixies were kind enough to let her oflF with a 
 lame leg, which was so to continue only for seven years, 
 and was alone to be cured by a certain herb, growing on 
 Dartmoor, whose long and learned and very difficult name 
 the elfin judge pronounced in a high and audible voice. It 
 was a name of seven syllables, seven being also the number 
 of years decreed for the chastisement 
 
 The good-natured maid, wishing to save her fellow-damsel 
 so long a suffering, tried with might and main to bear in 
 mind the name of this potent herb. She said it over and 
 over again, tied a knot in her garter at every syllable as a 
 help to memory then very popular, and thought she had 
 the word as sure as her own name, and very possibly felt 
 much more anxious about retaining the one than the other. 
 
 At length she dropped asleep, and did not wake till the 
 morning. Now whether her head might be like a sieve, that 
 lets out as fast as it takes in, or if the over-exertion to 
 remember might cause her to forget, cannot be determined \ 
 but certain it is that when she opened her eyes she knew 
 nothing at all about the matter, excepting that Molly was to 
 go lame on her right leg for seven long years, unless a herb 
 with a strange name could be got to cure her. And lame 
 she went for nearly the whole of that period. 
 
 At length (it was about the end of that time) a merry, 
 squint-eyed, queer-looking boy started up one fine summer 
 day, just as she went to pluck a mushroom, and came 
 
 10 
 
ii8 ENGLISH FOLK AND FAIR Y TALES. 
 
 tumbling, head over heels, towards her. He insisted on 
 striking her leg with a plant which he held in his hand. 
 From that moment she got well, and lame Molly, as a 
 reward for her patience in suffering, became the best dancer 
 in the whole town at the celebrated festivities of Mayday on 
 the green. 
 
THE TULIP BED.i 
 
 Near a pixy field in this neighbourhood there h'ved on a 
 time an old woman who possessed a cottage and a very 
 pretty garden, wherein she cultivated a most beautiful bed 
 of tulips. The pixies, it is traditionally averred, so delighted 
 in this spot, that they would carry their elfin babies thither, 
 and sing them to rest. Often at the dead hour of the night 
 a sweet lullaby was heard, and strains of the most melodious 
 music would float in the air, that seemed to owe their origin 
 to no other musicians than the beautiful tulips themselves ; 
 and whilst these delicate flowers waved their heads to the 
 evening breeze, it sometimes seemed as if they were 
 marking time to their own singing. As soon as the elfin 
 babies were lulled asleep by such melodies, the pixies 
 would return to the neighbouring field, and there com- 
 mence dancing, making those rings on the green which 
 showed, even to mortal eyes, what sort of gambols had 
 occupied them during the night season. 
 
 At the first dawn of light the watchful pixies once more 
 sought the tulips, and though still invisible could be heard 
 kissing and caressing their babies. The tulips, thus 
 favoured by a race of genii, retained their beauty much 
 longer than any other flowers in the garden ; whilst, though 
 contrary to their nature, as the pixies breathed over them 
 they became as fragrant as roses ; and so delighted at all 
 
 1 Mrs. Bray, The Borders of the Tamar and the Tavy, vol. i. p. 180. 
 
I20 ENGLISH FOLK AND FAIRY TALES. 
 
 this was the old woman who possessed the garden, that she 
 never suffered a single tulip to be plucked from its stem. 
 
 At length, however, she died; and the heir who suc- 
 ceeded her destroyed the enchanted flowers, and converted 
 the spot into a parsley bed, a circumstance which so 
 disappointed and offended the pixies that they caused it to 
 wither away; and indeed for many years nothing would 
 grow in the beds of the whole garden. But these sprites, 
 though eager in resenting an injury, were, like most warm 
 spirits, equally capable of returning a benefit; and if they 
 destroyed the product of the good old woman's garden, 
 when it had fallen into unworthy hands, they tended the 
 bed that wrapped her clay with affectionate solicitude. 
 For they were heard lamenting and singing sweet dirges 
 around her grave; nor did they neglect to pay this 
 mournful tribute to her memory every night before the 
 moon was at the full; for then their high solemnity of 
 dancing, singing, and rejoicing took place, to hail the queen 
 of the night on completing her silver circle in the skies. 
 No human hand ever tended the grave of the poor old 
 woman who had nurtured the tulip bed for the delight of 
 these elfin creatures ; but no rank weed was ever seen to 
 grow upon it; the sod was ever green, and the prettiest 
 flowers would spring up without sowing, or planting, and so 
 they continued to do till it was supposed the mortal body 
 was reduced to its original dust 
 
THE FISHERMAN AND THE PISKIES.i 
 
 John Taprail, long since dead, moored his boat one 
 evening beside a barge of much larger size, in which his 
 neighbour John Rendle traded between this place and 
 Plymouth ; and as the wind, though gusty, was not 
 sufficient to cause any apprehension, he went to bed and 
 slept soundly. In the middle of the night he was awoke by 
 a voice from without bidding him get up, and " shift his 
 rope over Rendle' s," as his boat was in considerable danger. 
 Now, as all Taprail's capital was invested in his boat and 
 gear, we may be sure that he was not long in putting on his 
 sea-clothes, and going to its rescue. To his great chagrin, 
 he found that a joke had been played upon him, for the boat 
 and barge were both riding quietly at their ropes. On his 
 way back again, when within a few yards of his home, he 
 observed a crowd of the little people congregated under the 
 shelter of a boat that was lying high and dry on the beach. 
 They were sitting in a semicircle, holding their hats towards 
 one of their number, who was engaged in distributing a heap 
 of money, pitching a gold piece into each hat in succession, 
 after the manner in which cards are dealt Now John had 
 a covetous heart ; and the sight of so much cash made him 
 forget the respect due to an assembly of piskies, and that 
 they are not slow to punish any intrusion on their privacy ; 
 so he crept slyly towards them, hidden by the boat, and, 
 reaching round, managed to introduce his hat without 
 
 ^ Choice Notti : Folk-Lore, p. 76. 
 
122 ENGLISH FOLK AND FAIRY TALES. 
 
 exciting any notice. When the heap was getting low, and 
 Taprail was awaking to the dangers of detection, he craftily 
 withdrew his hat and made off with the prize. He had 
 got a fair start before the trick was discovered ; but the 
 defrauded piskies were soon on his heels, and he barely 
 managed to reach his house and to close the door upon his 
 pursuers. So narrow indeed was his escape, that he had 
 left the tails of his sea-coat in their hands. Such is the 
 evidently imperfect version of an old legend, as it is remem- 
 bered by the fishermen of the present generation. We may 
 suppose that John Taprail's door had a key-hole ; and there 
 would have been poetical justice in the story, if the elves 
 had compelled the fraudulent fisherman to turn his hat or 
 pocket inside out 
 
A FAIRY CAUGHT.i 
 
 I HEARD last week of three fairies having been seen in 
 Zennor very recently. A man who lived at the foot of 
 Trendreen Hill, in the valley of Treridge, I think, was 
 cutting furze on the hill. Near the middle of the day he 
 saw one of the small people, not more than a foot long, 
 stretched at full length and fast asleep, on a bank of 
 griglans (heath), surrounded by high brakes of furze. The 
 man took off his furze cuff, and slipped the little man into 
 it, without his waking up ; went down to the house ; took 
 the little fellow out of the cuff on the hearthstone, when he 
 awakened, and seemed quite pleased and at home, beginning 
 to play with the children, who were well pleased with the 
 small body, and called him Bobby Griglans. 
 
 The old people were very careful not to let Bob out of 
 the house, or be seen by the neighbours, as he promised to 
 show the man where the crocks of gold were buried on the 
 hill. A few days after he was brought from the hill, all the 
 neighbours came with their horses (according to custom) to 
 bring home the winter's reek of furze, which had to be 
 brought down the hill in trusses on the backs of the horses. 
 That Bob might be safe and out of sight, he and the 
 children were shut up in the barn. Whilst the furze-carriers 
 were in to dinner, the prisoners contrived to get out, to have 
 a " courant " round the furze-reek, when they saw a little 
 
 ' Robert Hunt, Popular Romances of the West of England, 2nd 
 series, p. 265. 
 
X24 ENGLISH FOLK AND FAIR Y TALES. 
 
 man and woman, not much larger than Bob, searching into 
 every hole and corner among the trusses that were dropped 
 round the unfinished reek. The little woman was wringing 
 her hands and crying: "Oh, my dear and tender Skilly- 
 widden, wherever canst ah (thou) be gone to ? Shall I ever 
 cast eyes on thee again ? " " Go 'e back," says- Bob to the 
 children ; " my father and mother are come here too." He 
 then cried out : " Here I am, mammy ! " By the time the 
 words were out of his mouth, the little man and woman, 
 with their precious Skillywidden, were nowhere to be seen, 
 and there has been no sight nor sign of them since. The 
 children got a sound thrashing for letting Skillywidden 
 escape. 
 
COLMAN GREY.i 
 
 A FARMER, who formerly lived on an estate in our vicinity, 
 was returning one evening from a distant part of the farm, 
 when, in crossing a particular field, he saw, to his surprise, 
 sitting on a stone in the middle of it, a miserable-looking 
 little creature, human in appearance, though diminutive 
 in size, and apparently starving with cold and hunger. 
 Pitying its condition, and perhaps aware that it was of elfish 
 origin, and that good luck would amply repay him for his 
 kind treatment of it, he took it home, placed it by the warm 
 hearth on a stool, and fed it with nice milL The poor 
 bantling soon recovered from the lumpish and only half- 
 sensible state in which it was found, and, though it never 
 spoke, became very lively and playful. From the amuse- 
 ment which its strange tricks excited, it became a general 
 favourite in the family, and the good folk really felt very 
 sorry when their strange guest quitted them, which he did 
 in a very unceremonious manner. After the lapse of three 
 or four days, as the little fellow was gamboling about the 
 farm kitchen, a shrill voice from the town-place, or farm- 
 yard, was heard to call three times: "Colman Grey!" at 
 which he sprang up, and gaining voice, cried : " Ho ! ho ! 
 ho ! my daddy is come," flew through the keyhole, and was 
 never afterwards heard of. 
 
 * Choice Notes : Folk-Lore, p. 73. 
 
THE KING OF THE CATS.i 
 
 Many years ago, long before shooting in Scotland was a 
 fashion as it is now, two young men spent the autumn in 
 the very far north, living in a lodge far from other houses, 
 with an old woman to cook for them. Her cat and their 
 own dogs formed all the rest of the household. 
 
 One afternoon the elder of the two young men said he 
 would not go out, and the younger one went alone, to 
 follow the path of the previous day's sport looking for 
 missing birds, and intending to return home before the 
 early sunset However, he did not do so, and the elder 
 man became very uneasy as he watched and waited in vain 
 till long after their usual supper-time. At last the young 
 man returned, wet and exhausted, nor did he explain his 
 unusual lateness until, after supper, they were seated by the 
 fire with their pipes, the dogs lying at their feet, and the old 
 woman's black cat sitting gravely with half-shut eyes on the 
 hearth between them. Then the young man began as 
 follows : — 
 
 "You must be wondering what made me so late. I 
 have had a curious adventure to-day. I hardly know what 
 to say about it I went, as I told you I should, along our 
 yesterday's route. A mountain fog came on just as I was 
 about to turn homewards, and I completely lost my way. 
 I wandered about for a long time, not knowing where I 
 was, till at last I saw a light, and made for it, hoping to get 
 
 ^ Folk-Lore Journal, vol. ii. p. 22. 
 
ENGLISH FOLK AND FAIRY TALES. 127 
 
 help. As I came near it, it disappeared, and I found myself 
 close to a large old oak tree. I climbed into the branches 
 the better to look for the light, and, behold ! it was beneath 
 me, inside the hollow trunk of the tree. I seemed to be 
 looking down into a church, where a funeral was in the act 
 of taking place. I heard singing, and saw a coffin, sur- 
 rounded by torches, all carried by But I know you 
 
 won't believe me if I tell you ! " 
 
 His friend eagerly begged him to go on, and laid down 
 his pipe to listen. The dogs were sleeping quietly, but the 
 cat was sitting up apparently listening as attentively as the 
 man, and both young men involuntarily turned their eyes 
 towards him. "Yes," proceeded the absentee, "it is per- 
 fectly true. The coffin and the torches were both borne 
 by cats, and upon the coffin were marked a crown and 
 sceptre ! " He got no further ; the cat started up shrieking : 
 " By Jove ! old Peter's dead ! and I'm the King o' the 
 Cats 1 " rushed up the chimney and was seen no more. 
 
A MYTH OF MIDRIDGE; 
 
 Or, a Story anent a witless Wight's Adventures with the 
 Midridge Fairies in the Bishoprick of Durham ; now 
 more than two Centuries ago.^ 
 
 Talking about fairies the other day to a nearly octogenarian 
 female neighbour, I asked, Had she ever seen one in her 
 youthful days? Her answer was in the negative; "but," 
 quoth she, "I've heard my grandmother tell a story, that 
 Midridge (near Auckland) was a great place for fairies 
 when she was a child, and for many long years after that." 
 A rather lofty hill, only a short distance from the village, 
 was their chief place of resort, and around it they used to 
 dance, not by dozens, but by hundreds, when the gloaming 
 began to show itself of the summer nights. Occasionally a 
 villager used to visit the scene of their gambols in order to 
 catch if it were but a passing glance of the tiny folks, 
 dressed in their vestments of green, as delicate as the thread 
 of the gossamer; for well knew the lass so favoured that 
 ere the current year had disappeared she would have 
 become the happy wife of the object of her only love ; and 
 also, as well ken'd the lucky lad, that he too would get a 
 weel tochered lassie, long afore his brow became wrinkled 
 with age, or the snow-white blossoms had begun to bud 
 forth upon his pate. Woe to those, however, who dared to 
 come by twos or by threes, with inquisitive and curious eye, 
 within the bounds of their domain ; for if caught, or only 
 1 Choice Notes Folk-Lore, p. 131. 
 
ENGLISH FOLK AND FAIR Y TALES. 129 
 
 the eye of a fairy fell upon them, ill was sure to betide 
 them through life. Still more awful, however, was the 
 result if any were so rash as to address them, either in 
 plain prose or rustic rhyme. The last instance of their 
 being spoken to is thus still handed down by tradition : — 
 'Twas on a beautifully clear evening in the month of 
 August, when the last sheaf had crowned the last stack in 
 their master's hagyard, and after calling the "harvest home," 
 the daytale men and household servants were enjoying 
 themselves over massive pewter quarts foaming over with 
 strong beer, that the subject of the evening's conversation 
 at last turned upon the fairies of the neighbouring hill, 
 and each related his oft-told tale which he had learned by 
 rote from the lips of some parish grandame. At last the 
 senior of the mirthful party proposed to a youthful mate 
 of his, who had dared to doubt even the existence of such 
 creatures, that he durst not go to the hill, mounted on his 
 master's best palfrey, and call aloud, at the full extent of 
 his voice, the following rhymes : 
 
 " Rise little Lads, 
 Wi' your iron gads, 
 And set the Lad o' Midridge hame." 
 
 Tam o' Shanter-like, elated with the contents of the 
 pewter vessels, he nothing either feared or doubted, and off 
 went the lad to the fairy hill ; so, being arrived at the base, 
 he was nothing loath to extend his voice to its utmost powers 
 in giving utterance to the above invitatory verses. Scarcely 
 had the last words escaped his lips ere he was nearly sur- 
 rounded by many hundreds of the little folks, who are ever 
 ready to revenge, with the infliction of the most dreadful 
 punishment, every attempt at insult. The most robust of 
 the fairies, who I take to have been Oberon, their king, 
 
I30 ENGLISH FOLK 
 
 wielding an enormous javelin, thus, also in rhymes equally 
 rough, rude, and rustic, addressed the witless wight : — 
 
 " Sillie Willy, mount thy filly; 
 And if it isn't weel corn'd and fed, 
 I'll hae thee afore thou gets hame to thy Midridge bed." 
 
 Well was it for Willy that his home was not far distant, 
 and that part light was still remaining in the sky. Horrified 
 beyond measure, he struck his spurs into the sides of his 
 beast, who, equally alarmed, darted off as quick as lightning 
 towards the mansion of its owner. Luckily it was one of 
 those houses of olden time, which would admit of an 
 equestrian and his horse within its portals without danger ; 
 lucky, also, was it that at the moment they arrived the door 
 was standing wide open : so, considering the house a safer 
 sanctuary from the belligerous fairies than the stable, he 
 galloped direct into the hall, to the no small amazement of 
 all beholders, when the door was instantly closed upon his 
 pursuing foes ! As soon as Willy was able to draw his 
 breath, and had in part overcome the effects of his fear, he 
 related to his comrades a full and particular account of his 
 adventures with the fairies; but from that time forward, 
 never more could any one, either for love or money, prevail 
 upon Willy to give the fairies of the hill an invitation to 
 take an evening walk with him as far as the village of 
 Midridge ! 
 
 To conclude, when the fairies had departed, and it was 
 considered safe to unbar the door, to give egress to Willy 
 and his filly, it was found, to the amazement of all beholders, 
 that the identical iron javelin of the fairy king had pierced 
 through the thick oaken door, which for service as well as 
 safety was strongly plated with iron, where it still stuck, 
 and actually required the strength of the stoutest fellow in 
 
AND FAIRY TALES. 131 
 
 the company, with the aid of a smith's great fore-hammer, 
 to drive it forth. This singular relic of fairyland was 
 preserved for many generations, till passing eventually into 
 the hands of one who cared for none of these things, it was 
 lost, to the no small regret of all lovers of legendary lore ! 
 
THE GREEN CHILDREN.^ 
 
 "Another wonderful thing," says Ralph of Coggeshall, 
 " happened in Suffolk, at St Mary's of the Wolf-pits. A 
 boy and his sister were found by the inhabitants of that 
 place near the mouth of a pit which is there, who had the 
 form of all their limbs like to those of other men, but they 
 differed in the colour of their skin from all the people of 
 our habitable world; for the whole surface of their skin 
 was tinged of a green colour. No one could understand 
 their speech. When they were brought as curiosities to the 
 house of a certain knight, Sir Richard de Caine, at Wikes, 
 they wept bitterly. Bread and other victuals were set before 
 them, but they would touch none of them, though they were 
 ormented by great hunger, as the girl afterwards acknow- 
 ledged. At length, when some beans just cut, with their 
 stalks, were brought into the house, they made signs, with 
 great avidity, that they should be given to them. "When 
 they were brought, they opened the stalks instead of the 
 pods, thinking the beans were in the hollow of them ; but 
 not finding them there, they began to weep anew. When 
 those who were present saw this, they opened the pods, and 
 showed them the naked beans. They fed on these with 
 great delight, and for a long time tasted no other food. 
 The boy however was always languid and depressed, and he 
 died within a short time. The girl enjoyed continual good 
 
 1 T. Keightley, TTit Fairy Mythology, p. 281. 
 
ENGLISH FOLK AND FAIRY TALES, 133 
 
 health, and becoming accustomed to various kinds of food, 
 lost completely that green colour, and gradually recovered 
 the sanguine habit of her entire body. She was afterwards 
 regenerated by the laver of holy baptism, and lived for 
 many years in the service of that knight (as I have fre- 
 quently heard from him and his family), and was rather 
 loose and wanton in her conduct Being frequently asked 
 about the people of her country, she asserted that the 
 inhabitants, and all they had in that country, were of a green 
 colour ; and that they saw no sun, but enjoyed a degree of 
 light like what is after sunset Being asked how she came 
 into this country with the aforesaid boy, she replied, that as 
 they were following their flocks they came to a certain 
 cavern, on entering which they heard a delightful sound of 
 bells ; ravished by whose sweetness, they went for a long 
 time wandering on through the cavern until they came to 
 its mouth. When they came out of it, they were struck 
 senseless by the excessive light of the sun, and the unusual 
 temperature of the air ; and they thus lay for a long time. 
 Being terrified by the noise of those who came on them, 
 they wished to fly, but they could not find the entrance of 
 the cavern before they were caught" 
 
 This story is also told by William of Newbridge, who 
 places it in the reign of King Stephea He says he long 
 hesitated to believe it, but he was at length overcome by the 
 weight of evidence. According to him, the place where the 
 children appeared was about four or five miles from Bury St 
 Edmund's. They came in harvest-time out of the Wolf-pits; 
 they both lost their green hue, and were baptised, and 
 learned English. The boy, who was the younger, died ; but 
 the girl married a man at Lenna, and lived many years. 
 They said their country was called St Martin's Land, as 
 
 11 
 
134 ENGLISH FOLK AND FAIRY TALES. 
 
 that saint was chiefly worshipped there; that the people were 
 Christians, and had churches; that the sun did not rise 
 there, but that there was a bright country which could be 
 seen from theirs, being divided from it by a very broad 
 river. 
 
THE FAIRY BANQUET. ^ 
 
 In the next chapter of his history, William of Newbridge 
 relates as follows : — 
 
 •' In the province of Deiri (Yorkshire), not far from 
 my birthplace, a wonderful thing occurred, which I have 
 known from my boyhood. There is a town a few miles 
 distant from the Eastern Sea, near which are those cele- 
 brated waters commonly called Gipse. ... A peasant 
 of this town went once to see a friend who lived in the 
 next town, and it was late at night when he was coming 
 back, not very sober ; when lo ! from the adjoining barrow, 
 which I have often seen, and which is not much over a 
 quarter of a mile from the town, he heard the voices of 
 people singing, and, as it were, joyfully feasting. He 
 wondered who they could be that were breaking in that 
 place, by their merriment, the silence of the dead night, 
 and he wished to examine into the matter more closely. 
 Seeing a door open in the side of the barrow, he went 
 up to it, and looked in ; and there he beheld a large and 
 luminous house, full of people, women as well as men, 
 who were reclining as at a solemn banquet. One of the 
 attendants, seeing him standing at the door, offered him 
 a cup. He took it, but would not drink; and, pouring 
 out the contents, kept the vessel. A great tumult arose 
 at the banquet on account of his taking away the cup, 
 and all the guests pursued him; but he escaped by the 
 
 ^ T. Keightley, Tkf Fairy Mythology, p. 283, quoting William of 
 Newbridge. 
 
136 ENGLISH FOLK AND FAIRY TALES, 
 
 fleetness of the beast he rode, and got into the town with 
 his booty. Finally, this vessel of unknown material, of 
 unusual colour, and of extraordinary form, was presented 
 to Henry the Elder, king of the English, as a valuable 
 gift, and was then given to the queen's brother David, 
 king of the Scots, and was kept for several years in the 
 treasury of Scotland ; and a few years ago (as I have heard 
 from good authority), it was given by William, king of the 
 Scots, to Henry the Second, who wished to see it." 
 
THE FAIRY HORN.i 
 
 There is in the county of Gloucester a forest abounding 
 in boars, stags, and every species of game that England 
 produces. In a grovy lawn of this forest there is a little 
 mount, rising in a point to the height of a man, on which 
 knights and other hunters are used to ascend when fatigued 
 with heat and thirst, to seek some reHef for their wants. 
 The nature of the place, and of the business, is however 
 such that whoever ascends the mount must leave his com- 
 panions, and go quite alone. 
 
 When alone, he was to say, as if speaking to some other 
 person, •'! thirst," and immediately there would appear a 
 cup-bearer in an elegant dress, with a cheerful countenance, 
 bearing in his stretched-out hand a large horn, adorned with 
 gold and gems, as was the custom among the most ancient 
 English. In the cup nectar of an unknown but most 
 delicious flavour was presented, and when it was drunk, 
 all heat and weariness fled from the glowing body, so 
 that one would be thought ready to undertake toil instead 
 of having toiled. Moreover, when the nectar was taken, 
 the servant presented a towel to the drinker, to wipe his 
 mouth with, and then having performed his office, he 
 waited neither for a recompense for his services, nor for 
 questions and inquiry. 
 
 This frequent and daily action had for a very long 
 
 ^ T. Keightley, The Fairy Mythology^ p. 284, quoting Gervase of 
 
 Tilbury. 
 
138 ENGLISH FOLK AND FAIR Y TALES. 
 
 period of old times taken place among the ancient people, 
 till one day a knight of that city, when out hunting, went 
 thither, and having called for a drink and gotten the horn, 
 did not, as was the custom, and as in good manners he 
 should have done, return it to the cup-bearer, but kept 
 it for his own use. But the illustrious Earl of Gloucester, 
 when he learned the truth of the matter, condemned the 
 robber to death, and presented the horn to the most 
 excellent King Henry the Elder, lest he should be thought 
 to have approved of such wickedness, if he had added 
 the rapine of another to the store of his private property. 
 
THE FAIRY FAIR.i 
 
 Reading once the eighteenth of ^[r. Glanvil's relations, 
 p. 203, concerning an Irishman that had Hke to have been 
 carried away by spirits, and of the banquet they had spread 
 before them in the fields, etc., it called to mind a passage 
 I had often heard, of Fairies or spirits, so called by the 
 country people, which showed themselves in great companies 
 at divers times. At some times they would seem to dance, 
 at other times to keep a great fair or market I made it 
 my business to inquire amongst the neighbours what credit 
 might be given to that which was reported of them, and 
 by many of the neighbouring inhabitants I had this account 
 confirmed. 
 
 The place near which they most ordinarily showed 
 themselves was on the side of a hill, named Black-down, 
 between the parishes of Pittminster and Chestonford, not 
 many miles from Tanton. Those that have had occasion 
 to travel that way have frequently seen them there, appear- 
 ing like men and women, of a stature generally near 
 the smaller size of men. Their habits used to be of red, 
 blue, or green, according to the old way of country garb, 
 with high crowned hats. One time, about fifty years since, 
 a person living at Comb St. Nicholas, a parish lying on 
 one side of that hill, near Chard, was riding towards 
 
 ^ T, Kcightley, The Fairy Mythology^ p. 294, quoting Bovct's 
 Pandemonium.. 
 
T40 ENGLISH FOLK 
 
 his home that way, and saw, just before him, ou the side 
 of the hill, a great company of people, that seemed to 
 him like country folks assembled as at a fair. There 
 were all sorts of commodities, to his appearance, as at 
 our ordinary fairs: pewterers, shoemakers, pedlars, with 
 all kind of trinkets, fruit, and drinking-booths. He could 
 not remember anything which he had usually seen at 
 fairs but what he saw there. It was once in his thoughts 
 that it might be some fair for Chestonford, there being a 
 considerable one at some time of the year ; but then again 
 he considered that it was not the season for it. He was 
 under very great surprise, and admired what the meaning of 
 what he saw should be. At length it came into his mind 
 what he had heard concerning the Fairies on the side of that 
 hill, and it being near the road he was to take, he resolved 
 to ride in amongst them, and see what they were. Accord- 
 ingly he put on his horse that way, and though he saw them 
 perfectly all along as he came, yet when he was upon the 
 place where all this had appeared to him, he could discern 
 nothing at all, only seemed to be crowded and thrust, as 
 when one passes through a throng of people. All the rest 
 became invisible to him until he came to a little distance, 
 and then it appeared to him again as at first. He found 
 himself in pain, and so hastened home; where, being 
 arrived, lameness seized him all on one side, which continued 
 on him as long as he lived, which was many years, for he 
 was living in Comb, and gave an account to any that 
 inquired of this accident for more than twenty years after- 
 wards; and this relation I had from a person of known 
 honour, who had it from the man himself. 
 
 There were some whose names I have now forgot, but 
 they then lived at a gentleman's house, named Comb Farm, 
 near the place before specified. Both the man, his wife. 
 
AND FAIRY TALES, 141 
 
 and divers of the neighbours assured me they had at many 
 times seen this fair-keeping in the summer-time, as they 
 came from Tanton market, but that they durst not adven- 
 ture in amongst them, for that every one that had done so 
 had received great damage by it. 
 
THE FAIRIES' CALDRON. i 
 
 In the vestry of Frensham Church, in Surrey, on the north 
 side of the chancel, is an extraordinary great kettle or 
 caldron, which the inhabitants say, by tradition, was brought 
 hither by the fairies, time out of mind, from Borough-hill 
 about a mile hence. To this place, if any one went to 
 borrow a yoke of oxen, money, etc., he might have it for a 
 year or longer, so he kept his word to return it. There is 
 a cave where some have fancied to hear music. In this 
 Borough-hill is a great stone lying along of the length of 
 about six feet They went to this stone and knocked at it, 
 and declared what they would borrow, and when they would 
 repay, and a voice would answer when they should come, 
 and that they should find what they desired to borrow at 
 that stone. This caldron, with the trivet, was borrowed 
 here after the manner aforesaid, and not returned according 
 to promise ; and though the caldron was afterwards carried 
 to the stone, it could not be received, and ever since that 
 time no borrowing there. 
 
 ^ T. Keightley, The Fairy Mythology^ p. 295, quoting Aubrey's 
 Natural History of Surrey. 
 
THE CAULD LAD OF HILTON.^ 
 
 Hilton Hall, in the vale of the Wear, was in former 
 times the resort of a Brownie or House-spirit, called The 
 Cauld Lad. Every night the servants who slept in the 
 great hall heard him at work in the kitchen, knocking 
 the things about if they had been set in order, arranging 
 them if otherwise, which was more frequently the case. 
 They were resolved to banish him if they could, and the 
 spirit, who seemed to have an inkling of their design, was 
 often heard singing in a melancholy tone : 
 
 " Wae's me I wae's me I 
 The acorn is not yet 
 Fallen from the tree, 
 That's to grow the wood, 
 That's to make the cradle. 
 That's to rock the bairn, 
 That's to grow to a man, 
 That's to lay me." 
 
 The servants, however, resorted to the usual mode of 
 ^/anishing a Brownie : they left a green cloak and hood 
 for him by the kitchen fire, and remained on the watch. 
 They saw him come in, gaze at the new clothes, try them 
 on, and, apparently in great delight, go jumping and 
 frisking about the kitchen. But at the first crow of the 
 cock he vanished, crying : 
 
 ^ T. Keighlley, The Fairy Mythology, p. 296, quoting M. A, 
 Richardson, The Local Historian s Table-Book, 
 
144 ENGLISH FOLK AND FAIRY TALES. 
 
 " Here's a cloak, and here's a hood I 
 The Cauld Lad of Hilton will do no more good ; " 
 
 and he never again returned to the kitchen; yet it was 
 said that he might still be heard at midnight singing those 
 lines in a tone of melancholy. 
 
 There was a room in the castle long called the Cauld 
 Lad's Room, which was never occupied unless the castle 
 was full of company, and within the last century many 
 persons of credit had heard of the midnight wailing of 
 the Cauld Lad, who some maintained was the spirit of a 
 servant whom one of the barons of Hilton had killed 
 unintentionally in a fit of passion. 
 
THE FAIRY THIEVES.^ 
 
 A FARMER in Hampshire was sorely distressed by the 
 unsettling of his barn. However straightly over-night he 
 laid his sheaves on the threshing-floor for the application of 
 the morning's flail, when morning came all was topsy-turvy, 
 higgledy-piggledy, though the door remained locked, and 
 there was no sign whatever of irregular entry. Resolved to 
 find out who played him these mischievous pranks, Hodge 
 couched himself one night deeply among the sheaves, and 
 watched for the enemy. At length midnight arrived, the 
 barn was illuminated as if by moonbeams of wonderful 
 brightness, and through the key-hole came thousands of 
 elves, the most diminutive that could be imagined. They 
 immediately began their gambols among the straw, which 
 was soon in a most admired disorder. Hodge wondered, 
 but interfered not; but at last the supernatural thieves 
 began to busy themselves in a way still less to his taste, for 
 each elf set about conveying the crop away, a straw at a 
 time, with astonishing activity and perseverance. The key- 
 hole was still their port of egress and regress, and it 
 resembled the aperture of a bee-hive on a sunny day in 
 June. The farmer was rather annoyed at seeing his grain 
 vanish in this fashion, when one of the fairies said to 
 
 1 T. Keightley, The Fairy Mythology, p. 305, quoting the Literary 
 Gazette for 1825. 
 
146 ENGLISH FOLK AND FAIRY TALES. 
 
 another in the tiniest voice that ever was heard : " / iveat, 
 you weatV^ Hodge could contain himself no longer. lie 
 leaped out crying, " The devil sweat ye. Let me get among 
 ye ! " when they all flew away so frightened that they never 
 disturbed the bam any more. 
 
THE BOGGART. 1 
 
 In the house of an honest farmer in Yorkshire, named 
 George Gilbertson, a Boggart had taken up his abode. 
 He here caused a good deal of annoyance, especially by 
 tormenting the children in various ways. Sometimes their 
 bread and butter would be snatched away, or their por- 
 ringers of bread and milk be capsized by an invisible 
 hand ; for the Boggart never let himself be seen ; at other 
 times the curtains of their beds would be shaken back- 
 wards and forwards, or a heavy weight would press on 
 and nearly suffocate them. The parents had often, on 
 hearing their cries, to fly to their aid. There was a kind 
 of closet, formed by a wooden partition on the kitchen 
 stairs, and a large knot having been driven out of one 
 of the deal-boards of which it was made, there remained 
 a hole. Into this one day the farmer's youngest boy 
 stuck the shoe-horn with which he was amusing himself, 
 when immediately it was thrown out again, and struck the 
 boy on the head. The agent was of course the Boggart, 
 and it soon became their sport (which they called taking 
 with Boggarf) to put the shoe-horn into the hole and 
 have it shot back at them. 
 
 The Boggart at length proved such a torment that the 
 farmer and his wife resolved to quit the house and let him 
 have it all to himself. This was put into execution, and 
 
 ^ T. Keightley, The Fairy Mytholosv^ p. 307, quoting the Literary 
 Gazette for 1825. 
 
148 ENGLISH FOLK AND FAIRY TALES. 
 
 the farmer and his family were following the last loads 
 of furniture, when a neighbour named John Marshall came 
 up: "Well, Georgey," said he, "and soa you're leaving 
 t'ould hoose at last ? " — " Heigh, Johnny, my lad, I'm 
 forced tull it; for that villain Boggart torments us soa, 
 we can neither rest neet nor day for't. It seems loike 
 to have such a malice again t'poor bairns, it ommost kills 
 my poor dame here at thoughts on't, and soa, ye see, we're 
 forced to flitt loike." He scarce had uttered the words 
 when a voice from a deep upright churn cried out : "Aye, 
 aye, Georgey, we're flitting, ye see." — "Od hang thee," 
 cried the poor farmer, "if I'd known thou'd been there, 
 I wadn't ha' stirred a peg. Nay, nay, it's no use, Mally," 
 turning to his wife, " we may as weel turn back again to 
 t'ould hoose as be tormented in another that's not so 
 convenient." 
 
AINSEL.1 
 
 A WIDOW and her son, a little boy, lived together in a 
 cottage in or near the village of Rothley, Northumberland. 
 One winter's evening the child refused to go to bed with his 
 mother, as he wished to sit up for a while longer, " for," 
 said he, " I am not sleepy." The mother, finding remon- 
 strance in vain, at last told him that if he sat up by himself 
 the fairies would most certainly come and take him away. 
 The boy laughed as his mother went to bed, leaving him 
 sitting by the fire. He had not been there long, watching 
 the fire and enjoying its cheerful warmth, till a beautiful 
 little figure, about the size of a child's doll, descended the 
 chimney and alighted on the hearth ! The little fellow was 
 somewhat startled at first, but its prepossessing smile as it 
 paced to and fro before him soon overcame his fears, and 
 he inquired familiarly: "What do they ca' thou ?** "Ainsel," 
 answered the little thing haughtily, at the same time retort- 
 ing the question : " And what do they ca' thou f " " My 
 ainsel," answered the boy; and they commenced playing 
 together like two children newly acquainted. Their gambols 
 continued quite innocently until the fire began to grow dim ; 
 the boy then took up the poker to stir it, when a hot cinder 
 accidentally fell upon the foot of his playmate. Her tiny 
 voice was instantly raised to a most terrific roar, and the boy 
 had scarcely time to crouch into the bed behind his mother, 
 
 ^ T. Keightley, The Fairy Mythology, p. 313, quoting M. A. 
 Richardson, The Local Historian's Table-Book. 
 
 12 
 
I50 ENGLISH FOLK AND FAIRY TALES. 
 
 before the voice of the old fairy-mother was heard shouting: 
 "Who's done it? Who's done it?" "Oh! it was my 
 ainsel ! " answered the daughter. " Why, then," said the 
 mother, as she kicked her up the chimney, " what's all this 
 noise for ; there's nyon (i.e.^ no one) to blame." 
 
LEGEND OF THE ROLLRIGHT STONES, i 
 
 Not far from the borders of Gloucestershire and Oxford- 
 shire, and within the latter county, is the pretty village of 
 Rollright, and near the village, up a hill, stands a circle of 
 small stones, and one larger stone, such as our Celtic anti- 
 quaries say were raised by the Druids. As soon as the Druids 
 left them, the fairies, who never failed to take possession of 
 their deserted shrines, seemed to have had an especial care 
 over these stones, and any one who ventures to meddle 
 with them is sure to meet with some very great misfortune. 
 The- old people of the village, however, who generally know 
 most about these matters, say the stones were once a king 
 and his knights, who were going to make war on the king 
 of England ; and they assert that, according to old 
 prophecies, had they ever reached Long Compton, the 
 king of England must inevitably have been dethroned, and 
 this king would have reigned in his place, but when they 
 came to the village of Rollright they were suddenly turned 
 into stones in the place where they now stand. Be this as 
 it may, there was once a farmer in the village who wanted a 
 large stone to put in a particular position in an outhouse he 
 was building in his farmyard, and he thought that one of 
 the old knights would be just the thing for him. In spite 
 of all the warnings of his neighbours he determined to 
 have the stone he wanted, and he put four horses to his 
 best waggon and proceeded up the hill. With much labour 
 
 1 Folk- Lore Record, vol. ii. p. 177. 
 
152 ENGLISH FOLK AND FAIR Y TALES. 
 
 he succeeded in getting the stone into his waggon, and 
 though the road lay down hill, it was so heavy that his 
 waggon was broken and his horses were killed by the labour 
 of drawing it home. Nothing daunted by all these mishaps, 
 the farmer raised the stone to the place it was to occupy in 
 his new building. From this moment everything went 
 wrong with him, his crops failed year after year, his cattle 
 died one after another, he was obliged to mortgage his land 
 and to sell his waggons and horses, till at last he had left 
 only one poor broken-down horse which nobody would buy, 
 and one old crazy cart. Suddenly the thought came into 
 his head that all his misfortunes might be owing to the 
 identical stone which he had brought from the circle at the 
 top of the hill. He thought he would try to get it back 
 again, and his only horse was put to the cart. To his 
 surprise he got the stone down and lifted it into the cart 
 with very little trouble, and, as soon as it was in, the horse, 
 which could scarcely bear along its own limbs, now drew it 
 up the hill of its own accord with as little trouble as another 
 horse would draw an empty cart on level ground, until it 
 came to the very spot where the stone had formerly stood 
 beside its companions. The stone was soon in its place, 
 and the horse and cart returned home, and from that 
 moment the farmer's affairs began to improve, till in a short 
 time he was a richer and more substantial man than he had 
 ever been befora 
 
GOBLINS. 
 
 DANDO AND HIS DOGS.i 
 
 In the neighbourhood of the lovely village of St. Germans 
 formerly lived a priest connected with the old priory 
 church of this parish, whose life does not appear to have 
 been quite consistent with his vows. 
 
 He lived the life of the traditional "jolly friar." He ate 
 and drank of the best the land could give him, or money 
 buy; and it is said that his indulgences extended far beyond 
 the ordinary limits of good living. The priest Dando was, 
 notwithstanding all his vices, a man liked by the people. 
 He was good-natured, and therefore blind to many of their 
 sins. Indeed, he threw a cloak over his own iniquities, 
 which was inscribed "charity," and he freely forgave all 
 those who came to his confessional. 
 
 As a man increases in years he becomes more deeply 
 dyed with the polluted waters through which he may have 
 waded. It rarely happens that an old sinner is ever a 
 repentant one, until the decay of nature has reduced him to 
 a state of second childhood. As long as health allows him 
 to enjoy the sensualities of life, he continues to gratify his 
 passions, regardless of the cost. He becomes more selfish, 
 
 ^ Robert Hunt, Popular Eomanccs of the West of EnglaTid, ist 
 series, p. 247. 
 
154 ENGLISH FOLK 
 
 and his own gratification is the rule of his existence. So it 
 has ever been, and so was it with Dando. 
 
 The sinful priest was a capital huntsman, and scoured the 
 country far and near in pursuit of game, which was in those 
 days abundant and varied over this well-wooded district. 
 Dando, in the eagerness of the chase, paid no regard to any 
 kind of property. Many a corn-field has been trampled 
 down, and many a cottage garden destroyed by the horses 
 and dogs which this impetuous hunter would lead unthink- 
 ingly over them. Curses deep, though not loud, would 
 follow the old man, as even those who suffered by his 
 excesses were still in fear of his priestly power. 
 
 Any man may sell his soul to the devil without going 
 through the stereotyped process of signing a deed with his 
 blood. Give up your soul to Satan's darling sins, and he 
 will help you for a season, until he has his claims carefully 
 wound around you, when the links are suddenly closed, and 
 he seizes his victim, who has no power to resist. 
 
 Dando worshipped the sensual gods which he had 
 created, and his external worship of the God of truth became 
 every year more and more a hypocritical lie. The devil 
 looked carefully after his prize. Of course to catch a 
 dignitary of the church was a thing to cause rejoicings 
 amongst the lost; and Dando was carefully lured to the 
 undoing of his souL Health and wealth were secured to 
 him, and by-and-by the measure of his sins was full, and he 
 was left the victim to self-indulgences — a doomed man. 
 With increasing years, and the immunities he enjoyed, 
 Dando became more reckless. Wine and wassail, a board 
 groaning with dishes which stimulated the sated appetite, 
 and the company of both sexes of dissolute habits, 
 exhausted his nights. His days were devoted to the pur- 
 suits of the field ; and to maintain the required excitement, 
 
AND FAIRY TALES. 155 
 
 ardent drinks were supplied him by his wicked companions. 
 It mattered not to Dando — provided the day was an 
 auspicious one, if the scent would lie on the ground — even 
 on the Sabbath, horses and hounds were ordered out, and 
 the priest would be seen in full cry. 
 
 One Sabbath morning Dando and his riotous rout were 
 hunting over the Earth estate ; game was plenty, and sport 
 first-rate. Exhausted with a long and eager run, Dando 
 called for drink. He had already exhausted the flasks of 
 the attendant hunters. 
 
 " Drink, I say ; give me drink," he cried. 
 
 " Whence can we get it ? " asked one of the gang. 
 
 " Go to hell for it, if you can't get it on Earth," said the 
 priest, with a bitter laugh at his own joke on the Earth 
 estate. 
 
 At the moment, a dashing hunter, who had mingled with 
 the throng unobserved, came forward, and presented a 
 richly-mounted flask to Dando, saying: 
 
 " Here is some choice liquor distilled in the establish- 
 ment you speak of. It will warm and revive you, I'll 
 warrant. Drink deep ; friend, drink." 
 
 Dando drank deep; the flask appeared to cling to his 
 lips. The stranger hunter looked on with a rejoicing yet 
 malignant expression ; — a wicked smile playing over an 
 otherwise tranquil face. 
 
 By-and-by Dando fetched a deep sigh, and removed the 
 flask, exclaiming : " That was a drink indeed. Do the gods 
 drink such nectar?" 
 
 " Devils do," said the hunter. 
 
 " An they do, I wish I were one," said Dando, who now 
 rocked to and fro in a state of thorough intoxication, 
 
 " methinks the drink is very like " The impious 
 
 expression died upon his lips. 
 
156 ENGLISH FOLK 
 
 Looking round with a half-idiotic stare, Dando saw that 
 his new friend had appropriated several head of game. 
 Notwithstanding his stupid intoxication, his selfishness 
 asserted its power, and he seized the game, exclaiming, in a 
 guttural, half-smothered voice : " None of these are thine." 
 
 "What I catch I keep," said the hunter. 
 
 "They're mine," stammered Dando. 
 
 The hunter quietly bowed. 
 
 Dando's wrath burst at once into a burning flame, uncon- 
 trolled by reason. He rolled himself off his horse, and 
 rushed, staggering as he went, at the steed of his unknown 
 friend, uttering most frightful oaths and curses. 
 
 The strange hunter's horse was a splendid creature, black 
 as night, and its eyes gleamed like the brightest stars, with 
 unnatural lustre. The horse was turned adroitly aside, and 
 Dando fell to the earth with much force. The fall appeared 
 to add to his fury, and he roared with rage. Aided by his 
 attendants, he was speedily on his legs, and again at the 
 side of the hunter, who shook with laughter, shaking the 
 game in derision, and quietly uttering : " They're mine." 
 
 " I'll go to hell after them, but I'll get them from thee," 
 shouted Dando. 
 
 " So thou shalt," said the hunter ; and seizing Dando by 
 the collar, he lifted him from the ground, and placed him, 
 as though he were a child, before him on the horse. 
 
 With a dash, the horse passed down the hill, its hoofs 
 striking fire at every tread, and the dogs, barking furiously, 
 followed impetuously. These strange riders reached the 
 banks of the Lynher, and with a terrific leap, the horse and 
 its riders, followed by the hounds, went out far in its 
 waters, disappearing at length in a blaze of fire, which 
 caused the stream to boil for a moment, and then the 
 waters flowed on as tranquilly as ever over the doomed 
 
AND FAIRY TALES, 157 
 
 priest. All this happened in the sight of the assembled 
 peasantry. Dando never more was seen, and his fearful 
 death was received as a warning by many, who gave gifts to 
 the church. One amongst them carved a chair for the 
 bishop, and on it he represented Dando and his dogs, that 
 the memory of his wickedness might be always renewed. 
 There, in St. Germans' church, stands to this day the chair, 
 and all who doubt the truth of this tradition may view the 
 story carved in enduring oak. If they please, they can sit 
 in the chair until their faith is so var quickened that they 
 become true believers. On Sunday mornings, early, the 
 dogs of the priest have been often heard as if in eager 
 pursuit of game. Cheney's hounds and the Wish hounds 
 of Dartmoor are but other versions of the same legend. 
 
THE DEMON TREGEAGLE.^ 
 
 " Thrice he b^an to tell his doleful tale, 
 And thrice the sighs did swallow up his voice." 
 
 Thomas Sackville. 
 
 Who has not heard of the wild spirit Tregeagle? He 
 haunts equally the moor, the rocky coasts, and the blown 
 sand-hills of Cornwall. From north to south, from east to 
 west, this doomed spirit is heard of, and to the day of 
 judgment he is doomed to wander, pursued by avenging 
 fiends. For ever endeavouring to perform some task by 
 which he hopes to secure repose, and being for ever 
 defeated. Who has not heard the howling of Tregeagle ? 
 When the storms come with all their strength from the 
 Atlantic, and urge themselves upon the rocks around the 
 Land's End, the howls of the spirit are louder than the 
 roaring of the winds. When calms rest upon the ocean, 
 and the waves can scarcely form upon the resting waters, low 
 wailings creep along the coast. These are the wailings of 
 this wandering soul. When midnight is on the moor, or on 
 the mountains, and the night winds whistle amidst the 
 rugged cairns, the shrieks of Tregeagle are distinctly heard. 
 We know then that he is pursued by the demon dogs, 
 and that till daybreak he must fly with all speed before 
 them. The voice of Tregeagle is everywhere, and yet he is 
 unseen by human eye. Every reader will at once perceive 
 
 ^ Robert Hunt, Popular Rotnances of the West of England, 1st 
 series, p. 133. 
 
ENGLISH FOLK AND FAIRY TALES. 159 
 
 that Tregeagle belongs to the mythologies of the oldest 
 nations, and that the traditions of this wandering spirit in 
 Cornwall, which centre upon one tyrannical magistrate, are 
 but the appropriation of stories which belong to every age 
 and country. Tradition thus tells Tregeagle's tale. 
 
 There are some men who appear to be from their births 
 given over to the will of tormenting demons. Such a man 
 was Tregeagle. He is as old as the hills, yet there are 
 many circumstances in the story of his life which appear to 
 remove him from this remote antiquity. Modern legends 
 assert him to belong to comparatively modern times, and 
 say that, without doubt, he was one of the Tregeagles who 
 once owned Trevorder, near Bodmin. We have not, how- 
 ever, much occasion to trouble ourselves with the man or 
 his life ; it is with the death and the subsequent existence 
 of a myth that we are concerned. 
 
 Certain it is that the man Tregeagle was diabolically 
 wicked. He seems to have been urged on from one crime 
 to another until the cup of sin was overflowing. 
 
 Tregeagle was wealthy beyond most men of his time, 
 and his wealth purchased for him that immunity which 
 the Church, in her degenerate days, too often accorded 
 to those who could aid the priesthood with their gold 
 or power. As a magistrate he was tyrannical and unjust, 
 and many an innocent man was wantonly sacrificed 
 by him for the purpose of hiding his own dark deeds. 
 As a landlord he was rapacious and unscrupulous, and 
 frequently so involved his tenents in his toils that 
 they could not escape his grasp. The stain of secret 
 murder clings to his memory, and he is said to have 
 sacrificed a sister whose goodness stood between him 
 and his demon passions; his wife and children perished 
 victims to his cruelties. At length death drew near to 
 
i6o ENGLISH FOLK 
 
 relieve the land of a monster whose name was a terror 
 to all who heard it. Devils waited to secure the soul 
 they had won, and Tregeagle in terror gave to the priest- 
 hood wealth, that they might fight with them and save his 
 soul from eternal fire. Desperate was the struggle, but 
 the powerful exorcisms of the banded brotherhood of a 
 neighbouring monastery drove back the evil ones, and 
 Tregeagle slept with his fathers, safe in the custody of the 
 churchmen who buried him with high honours in St Breock 
 Church. They sang chants and read prayers above his 
 grave, to secure the soul which they thought they had 
 saved. But Tregeagle was not fated to rest. Satan 
 desired still to gain possession of such a gigantic sinner, 
 and we can only refer what ensued to the influence of 
 the wicked spiritings of his ministers. 
 
 A dispute arose between two wealthy families respecting 
 the ownership of extensive lands around Bodmin. The 
 question had been rendered more diflScult by the nefarious 
 conduct of Tregeagle, who had acted as steward to one of 
 the claimants, and who had destroyed ancient deeds, forged 
 others, and indeed made it appear that he was the real 
 proprietor of the domain. Large portions of the land 
 Tregeagle had sold, and other parts were leased upon long 
 terms, he having received all the money and appropriated 
 it His death led to inquiries, and then the transactions 
 were gradually brought to hght Involving, as this did, 
 large sums of money — and indeed it was a question upon 
 which turned the future well-doing or ruin of a family — 
 it was fought by the lawyers with great pertinacity. The 
 legal questions had been argued several times before the 
 judges at the assizes. The trials had been deferred, new 
 trials had been sought for and granted, and every possible 
 plan known to the lawyers for postponing the settlement 
 
AND FAIRY TALES. i6i 
 
 of a suit had been tried. A day was at length fixed, 
 upon which a final decision must be come to, and a special 
 jury was sworn to administer justice between the con- 
 tending parties. Witnesses innumerable were examined as 
 to the validity of a certain deed, and the balance of 
 evidence was equally suspended. The judge was about 
 to sum up the case and refer the question to the jury, 
 when the defendant in the case, coming into court, 
 proclaimed aloud that he had yet another witness to 
 produce. There was a strange silence in the judgment- 
 hall. It was felt that something chilling to the soul was 
 amongst them, and there was a simultaneous throb of 
 terror as Tregeagle was led into the witness-box. 
 
 When the awe-struck assembly had recovered, the lawyers 
 for the defendant commenced their examination, which 
 was long and terrible. The result, however, was the dis- 
 closure of an involved system of fraud, of which the 
 honest defendant had been the victim, and the jury un- 
 hesitatingly gave a verdict in his favour. 
 
 The trial over, every one expected to see the spectre 
 witness removed. There, however, he stood powerless to 
 fly, although he evidently desired to do so. Spirits of 
 darkness were waiting to bear him away, but some spell 
 of holiness prevented them from touching him. There 
 was a struggle with the good and the evil angels for this 
 sinner's soul, and the assembled court appeared frozen 
 with horror. At length the judge with dignity commanded 
 the defendant to remove his witness. 
 
 " To bring him from the grave has been to me so 
 dreadful a task, that I leave him to your care, and that 
 of the Prior's by whom he was so beloved." Having said 
 this, the defendant left the court. 
 
 The churchmen were called in, and long were the 
 
1 62 ENGLISH FOLK 
 
 deliberations between them and the lawyers as to the 
 best mode of disposing of Tregeagle. 
 
 They could resign him to the devil at once, but by long 
 trial the worst of crimes might be absolved, and as good 
 churchmen they could not sacrifice a human soul. The 
 only thing was to give the spirit some task, difficult beyond 
 the power of human nature, which might be extended far 
 into eternity. Time might thus gradually soften the 
 obdurate soul, which still retained all the black dyes of the 
 sins done in the flesh, that by infinitely slow degrees 
 repentance might exert its softening power. The spell 
 therefore put upon Tregeagle was, that as long as he was 
 employed on some endless assigned task, there should be 
 hope of salvation, and that he should be secure from the 
 assaults of the devil as long as he laboured steadily. A 
 moment's rest was fatal ; labour unresting, and for ever, was 
 his doom. 
 
 One of the lawyers remembering that Dosmery Pool was 
 bottomless, and that a thorn bush which had been flung 
 into it, but a few weeks before, had made its appearance 
 in Falmouth harbour, proposed that Tregeagle might be 
 employed to empty this profound lake. Then one of the 
 churchmen, to make the task yet more enduring, proposed 
 that it should be performed by the aid of a limpid shell 
 having a hole in it 
 
 This was agreed to, and the required incantations were 
 duly made. Bound by mystical spells, Tregeagle was 
 removed to the dark moors, and duly set to work. Year 
 after year passed by, and there day and night, summer and 
 winter, storm and shine, Tregeagle was bending over the 
 dark water, working hard with his perforated shell ; yet the 
 pool remained at the same level. 
 
 His old enemy the devil kept a careful eye on the 
 
AND FAIRY TALES. 163 
 
 doomed one, resolving, if possible, to secure so choice an 
 example of evil. Often did he raise tempests sufficiently 
 wild, as he supposed, to drive Tregeagle from his work, 
 knowing that if he failed for a season to labour, he could 
 seize and secure him. These were long tried in vain ; but 
 at length an auspicious hour presented itself. 
 
 Nature was at war with herself, the elements had lost 
 their balance, and there was a terrific struggle to recover 
 it Lightnings flashed, and coiled like fiery snakes around 
 the rocks of Roughtor. Fire-balls fell on the desert moors 
 and hissed in the accursed lake. Thunders pealed through 
 the heavens, and echoed from hill to hill ; an earthquake 
 shook the solid earth, and terror was on all living. The 
 winds arose and raged with a fury which was irresistible, 
 and hail beat so mercilessly on all things that it spread 
 death around. Long did Tregeagle stand the "pelting of 
 the pitiless storm," but at length he yielded to its force and 
 fled. The demons in crowds were at his heels. He 
 doubled, however, on his pursuers and returned to the 
 lake; but so rapid were they that he could not rest the 
 required moment to dip his shell in the now seething 
 waters. 
 
 Three times he fled round the lake, and the evil ones 
 pursued him. Then, feeling that there was no safety for 
 him near Dosmery Pool, he sprang swifter than the wind 
 across it, shrieking with agony, and thus — since the devils 
 cannot cross water, and were obliged to go round the lake 
 — he gained on them and fled over the moor. 
 
 Away, away went Tregeagle, faster and faster the dark 
 spirits pursuing, and they had nearly overtaken him, when 
 he saw Roach Rock and its chapel before him. He rushed 
 up the rocks, with giant power clambered to the eastern 
 window, and dashed his head through it, thus securing the 
 
164 ENGLISH FOLK 
 
 shelter of its sanctity. The defeated demons retired, and 
 long and loud were their wild wailings in the air. The 
 inhabitants of the moors and of the neighbouring towns 
 slept not a wink that night. 
 
 Tregeagle was safe, his head was within the holy church, 
 though his body was exposed on a bare rock to the storm. 
 Earnest were the prayers of the blessed hermit in his cell 
 on the rock, to be relieved from his nocturnal and sinful 
 visitor. 
 
 In vain were the recluse's prayers. Day after day, as he 
 knelt at the altar, the ghastly head of the doomed sinner 
 grinned horribly down upon him. Every holy ejaculation 
 fell upon Tregeagle's ear like molten iron. He writhed and 
 shrieked under the torture; but legions of devils filled 
 the air, ready to seize him, if for a moment he withdrew his 
 head from the sanctuary. Sabbath after Sabbath the little 
 chapel on the rock was rendered a scene of sad confusion 
 by the interruption which Tregeagle caused. Men trembled 
 with fear at his agonising cries, and women swooned. At 
 length the place was deserted, and even the saint of the 
 rock was wasting to death by the constant perturbation in 
 which he was kept by the unholy spirit, and the demons 
 who, like carrion birds, swarmed around the holy cairn. 
 Things could not go on thus. The monks of Bodmin 
 and the priests from the neighbouring churches gathered 
 together, and the result of their long and anxious delibera- 
 tions was that Tregeagle, guarded by two saints, should 
 be taken to the north coast, near Padstow, and employed 
 in making trusses of sand, and ropes of sand with 
 which to bind them. By powerful spell Tregeagle was 
 removed from Roach, and fixed upon the sandy shores 
 of the Padstow district Sinners are seldom permitted 
 to enjoy, any peace of soul. As the ball of sand grew 
 
AND FAIRY TALES, 165 
 
 into form, the tides rose, and the breakers spread out 
 the sands again a level sheet ; again was it packed together 
 and again washed away. Toil ! toil ! toil ! day and night 
 unrestingly, sand on sand grew with each hour, and ruth- 
 lessly the ball was swept, by one blow of a sea wave, along 
 the shore. 
 
 The cries of Tregeagle were dreadful; and as the destruc- 
 tion of the sand heap was constantly recurring, a constantly 
 increasing despair gained the mastery over hope, and the 
 ravings of the baffled soul were louder than the roarings 
 of the winter tempest. 
 
 Baffled in making trusses of sand, Tregeagle seized 
 upon the loose particles and began to spin them into a 
 rope. Long and patiently did he pursue his task, and hope 
 once more rose like a star out of the midnight darkness 
 of despair. A rope was forming, when a storm came up 
 with all its fury from the Atlantic, and swept the particles 
 of sand away over the hills. 
 
 The inhabitants of Padstow had seldom any rest At 
 every tide the bowlings of Tregeagle banished sleep from 
 each eye. But now so fearful were the sounds of the 
 doomed soul, in the madness of the struggle between hope 
 and despair, that the people fled the town, and clustered 
 upon the neighbouring plains, praying, as with one voice, 
 to be relieved from the sad presence of this monster. 
 
 St. Petroc, moved by the tears and petitions of the 
 people, resolved to remove the spirit ; and by the intense 
 earnestness of his prayers, after long wrestling, he subdued 
 Tregeagle to his will Having chained him with the bonds 
 which the saint had forged with his own hands, every link 
 of which had been welded with a prayer, St. Petroc led 
 the spirit away from the north coast, and stealthily placed 
 him on the southern shores. 
 
 13 
 
1 66 ENGLISH FOLK 
 
 In those days Ella's Town, now Helston, was a flourishing 
 port. Ships sailed into the estuary, up to the town, and 
 they brought all sorts of merchandise, and returned with 
 cargoes of tin from the mines of Breage and Wendron. 
 
 The wily monk placed his charge at Bareppa, and there 
 condemned him to carry sacks of sand across the estuary of 
 the Loo, and to empty them at Porthleven, until the beach 
 was clean down to the rocks. The priest was a good 
 observer. He knew that the sweep of the tide was from 
 Trewavas Head round the coast towards the Lizard, and 
 that the sand would be carried back steadily and speedily 
 as fast as the spirit could remove it. 
 
 Long did Tregeagle labour; and of course in vaia His 
 struggles were giant-like to perform his task, but he saw the 
 sands return as regularly as he removed them. The suffer- 
 ings of the poor fishermen who inhabited the coast around 
 Porthleven were great. As the bowlings of Tregeagle dis- 
 turbed the dwellers in Padstow, so did they now distress 
 those toil-worn men. 
 
 " ^Tien sorrow is highest, 
 Relief is nighest." 
 
 And a mischievous demon- watcher, in pure wantonness, 
 brought that relief to those fishers of the sea. 
 
 Tregeagle was laden with a sack of sand of enormous 
 size, and was wading across the mouth of the estuary, when 
 one of those wicked devils, who were kept ever near 
 Tregeagle, in very idleness tripped up the heavily-laden 
 spirit. The sea was raging with the irritation of a passing 
 storm; and as Tregeagle fell, the sack was seized by the 
 waves, and its contents poured out across this arm of the 
 sea. 
 
 There, to this day, it rests a bar of sand, fatally 
 
AND FAIRY TALES. 167 
 
 destroying the harbour of Ella's Town. The rage of the 
 inhabitants of this seaport — now destroyed — was great; 
 and, with all their priests, away they went to the Loo 
 Bar, and assailed their destroyer. Against human anger 
 Tregeagle was proof. The shock of tongues fell harm- 
 lessly on his ear, and the assault of human weapons was 
 unavailing. 
 
 By the aid of the priests, and faith-inspired prayers, the 
 bonds were once more placed upon Tregeagle ; and he was, 
 by the force of bell, book, and candle, sent to the Land's 
 End. There he would find no harbour to destroy, and but 
 few people to terrify. His task was to sweep the sands 
 from Porthcurnow Cove round the headland called Tol- 
 Peden-Penwith, into Nanjisal Cove. Those who know that 
 rugged headland, with its cubical masses of granite, piled in 
 Titanic grandeur one upon another, will appreciate the 
 task ; and when to all the difficulties are added the strong 
 sweep of the Atlantic current — that portion of the Gulf 
 stream which washes our southern shores — it will be 
 evident that the melancholy spirit has indeed a task which 
 must endure until the world shall end. 
 
 Even until to-day is Tregeagle labouring at his task. In 
 calms his wailing is heard ; and those sounds which some 
 call the "soughing of the wind," are known to be the mean- 
 ings of Tregeagle ; while the coming storms are predicated 
 by the fearful roarings of this condemned mortal 
 
THE PARSON AND CLERIC^ 
 
 Near Dawlish stand, out in the sea, two rocks, of red 
 sandstone conglomerate, to which the above name is given. 
 
 Seeing that this forms a part of Old Cornwall, I do not 
 go beyond my limits in telling the true story of these 
 singular rocks. 
 
 The Bishop of Exeter was sick unto death at Dawlish. 
 An ambitious priest, from the east, frequently rode with his 
 clerk to make anxious inquiries after the condition of the 
 dying bishop. It is whispered that this priest had great 
 hopes of occupying the bishop's throne in Exeter Cathedral 
 
 The clerk was usually the priest's guide; but somehow 
 or other, on a particularly stormy night, he lost the road, 
 and they were wandering over Haldon. Excessively angry 
 was the priest, and very provoking was the clerk. He led 
 his master this way and that way, but they were yet upon 
 the elevated country of Haldon. 
 
 At length the priest, in a great rage, exclaimed: " I would 
 rather have the devil for a guide than you." Presently the 
 clatter of horse's hoofs were heard, and a peasant on a moor 
 pony rode up. The priest told of his condition, and the 
 peasant volunteered to guide them. On rode peasant, 
 priest, and clerk, and presently they were at Dawlish. The 
 night was tempestuous, the ride had quickened the appetite 
 of the priest, and he was wet through ; therefore, when his 
 
 ^ Robert Hunt, Popular Romances of the West of England^ ist 
 series, p. 262. 
 
ENGLISH FOLK AND FAIR Y TALES. 169 
 
 friend asked him to supper, as they approached an old 
 ruined house, through the windows of which bright lights 
 were shining, there was no hesitation in accepting the 
 invitation. 
 
 There were a host of friends gathered together — a 
 strange, wild-looking lot of men. But as the tables were 
 laden with substantial dishes, and black-jacks were standing 
 thick around, the parson, and the clerk too, soon made 
 friends with all. 
 
 They ate and drank, and became most irreligiously U]> 
 roarious. The parson sang hunting songs, and songs in 
 praise of a certain old gentleman, with whom a priest should 
 not have maintained any acquaintance. These were very 
 highly appreciated, and every man joined loudly in the 
 choruses. Night wore away, and at last news was brought 
 that the bishop was dead. This appeared to rouse up the 
 parson, who was only too eager to get the first intelligence 
 and go to work to secure the hope of his ambition. So 
 master and man mounted their horses, and bade adieu to 
 their hilarious friends. 
 
 They were yet at the door of the mansion — somehow or 
 other the horses did not appear disposed to move. They 
 were whipped and spurred, but to no purpose. 
 
 " The devil's in the horses," said the priest. 
 
 " I b'lieve he is," said the clerk. 
 
 "Devil or no devil, they shall go," said the parson, 
 cutting his horse madly with his heavy whip. 
 
 There was a roar of unearthly laughter. 
 
 The priest looked round — his drinking friends were all 
 turned into demons, wild with glee, and the peasant guide 
 was an arch little devil, looking on with a marvellously 
 curious twinkle in his eyes. The noise of waters was 
 around them; and now the priest discovered that the 
 
lyo ENGLISH FOLK AND FAIR Y TALES. 
 
 mansion had disappeared, and that waves beat heavy upon 
 his horse's flanks, and rushed over the smaller horse of his 
 man. 
 
 Repentance was too late. 
 
 In the morning following this stormy night, two horses 
 were found straying on the sands at Dawlish ; and clinging 
 with the grasp of death to two rocks were found the parson 
 and the clerk. There stand the rocks, to which the devil 
 had given the forms of horses — an enduring monument to 
 all generations. 
 
OUTWITTING THE BOGIE.i 
 
 An elf once asserted a claim to a field hitherto possessed 
 by a farmer, and after much disputing they came to an 
 arrangement by agreeing to divide its produce between 
 them. At seed-time the farmer asks the Bogie what part 
 of the crop he will have, "tops or bottoms." "Bottoms," 
 said the spirit : upon hearing which his crafty antagonist 
 sows the field with wheat, so that when harvest arrived the 
 corn falls to his share, while the poor Bogie is obliged to 
 content himself with the stubble. Next year the Bogie, 
 finding he had made such an unfortunate selection in the 
 bottoms, chose the "tops"; whereupon the crafty farmer 
 sets the field with turnips, thus again outwitting the 
 simple claimant. Tired of this unprofitable farming, the 
 Bogie agrees to hazard his claims on a mowing match, 
 the land in question to be the stake for which they played. 
 Before the day of meeting, the canny earth-tiller procures a 
 number of iron bars, which he strews among the grass to be 
 mown by his opponent; and when the trial commences, 
 the unsuspecting goblin finds his progress retarded by his 
 scythe continually coming into contact with these obstacles, 
 which he takes to be some hard species of dock. " Mortal 
 hard docks these!" said he; "'Nation hard docks!" His 
 blunted blade soon brings him to a standstill; and as, in 
 such cases, it is not allowable for one to sharpen without 
 
 ^ T. Sternberg, The Dialect and Folk- Lore of Norihamptonshirt-. 
 p. 140. 
 
172 ENGLISH FOLK AND FAIRY TALES. 
 
 the other, he turns to his antagonist, now far ahead, and, 
 in a tone of despair, inquires : " When d'ye wiffle-waffle 
 {whet), mate?" "Waffle!" said the farmer, with a well- 
 feigned stare of amazement, "oh, about noon, mebby." 
 "Then," said the despairing Bogie, "I've lost my land ! " 
 So saying, he disappeared, and the farmer reaped the 
 reward of his artifice by ever afterwards continuing the 
 undisputed possessor of the soil. 
 
THE HUNTED HARRi 
 
 There is a place near our town called Heathfield, — a 
 gloomy and solitary waste. Heathfield was then just such 
 as evil spirits delight in ; where if people really see nothing, 
 it is quite dreary and vast enough to fancy they see a 
 great deal, which in these sort of cases is much the same 
 thing. On Heathfield the devils dance; I do not know 
 who is the piper, as we have here no Tam o' Shanter to 
 tell us; but I suppose the company are not without 
 musicians to give them a few hints in the "concord of 
 sweet sounds." 
 
 Now, as the old tale goes, there was, once upon a 
 time — a mode of dating which all tellers of such tales 
 as mine should never fail to employ, as it sets aside any 
 small cavils that might arise from those awkward points 
 in settling real facts that depend on chronology — there 
 was, once upon a time, an old woman, and she made a 
 slight mistake, I do not know how, and got up at mid- 
 night, thinking it to be morning. This good woman 
 mounted her horse, and set off, panniers, cloak, and all, 
 on her way to market. Anon she heard a cry of hounds, 
 and soon perceived a hare rapidly making towards her. 
 The hare, however, took a turn and a leap, and got on 
 the top of the hedge, as if it would say : " Come, catch 
 me," to the old woman. She liked such hunting as this 
 
 ^ Mrs. Bray, Th* Bwtkrs of the Tatnar and the Tcevy, vol. iL 
 p. 113. 
 
r 7 4 ENGLISH FOLK 
 
 very well, put forth her hand, secured the game, popped 
 it into the panniers, covered it over, and rode forward. 
 She had not gone far, when great was her alarm on per- 
 ceiving in the midst of the dismal and solitary waste of 
 Heathfield, advancing at full pace, a headless horse, bearing 
 a black and grim rider, with horns sprouting from under 
 a little jockey cap ; and having a cloven foot thrust into 
 one stirrup. He was surrounded by a pack of hounds, 
 thus noticed by Mary Colling : 
 
 " Of hounds on Heathfield seen to rise, 
 With hornM heads and flaming eyes." 
 
 They had, according to tradition, tails too, that whisked 
 about and shone like fire, and the air itself had a strong 
 sulphureous scent. These were signs not to be mistaken ; 
 and the poor old woman knew in a moment that huntsman 
 and hounds were taking a ride from the regions below. 
 But it soon appeared that, however clever the devil might 
 be, he was no conjurer ; for he very civilly asked the old 
 lady if she could set him right, and point out which way 
 the hare was flown? Probably she thought it no harm 
 to return the father of lies an answer in his own coin, so 
 she boldly gave him a negative ; and he rode on, nothing 
 suspecting the cheat. When he was out of sight, she 
 soon perceived the hare in the panniers begin to move, 
 when to her utter amazement arose a beautiful young lady, 
 all in white, who thus addressed her preserver: "Good 
 dame, I admire your courage; and thank you for the 
 kindness with which you have saved me from a state of 
 suffering that must not be told to human ears. Do not 
 start when I tell you that I am not an inhabitant of 
 the earth. For a great crime committed during the time 
 I dwelt upon it, I was doomed, as a punishment in the 
 
AND FAIRY TALES, 175 
 
 other world, to be constantly pursued either above or 
 below ground by evil spirits, until I could get behind 
 their tails, whilst they passed on in search of me. This 
 difficult object, by your means, I have now happily 
 effected; and as a reward for your kindness I promise 
 that all your hens shall lay two eggs instead of one, and 
 that your cows shall yield the most plentiful store of milk 
 all the year round ; that you shall talk twice as much as 
 you ever did before, and your husband stand no chance 
 in any matter between you to be settled by the tongue. 
 But beware of the devil, and don't grumble about tithes ; 
 for my enemy and yours may do you an ill turn when he 
 finds out you were clever enough to cheat even him; 
 since, like all great impostors, he does not like to be 
 cheated himself. He can assume all shapes, excepting 
 the lamb and the dove." 
 
 The lady in white vanished, as all such white ladies 
 ought to do ; the old market woman found the best possible 
 luck that morning in her traffic ; and to this day the story 
 goes in our town, that from the Saviour of the World 
 having hallowed the form of the lamb, and the Holy Ghost 
 that of the dove, they can never be assumed by the mortal 
 enemy of the human race imder any circumstances. 
 
THE WELL OF ST. LUDGVAN.i 
 
 St. Ludgvan, an Irish missionary, had finished his work. 
 On the hill-top, looking over the most beautiful of bays, 
 the church stood with all its blessings. Yet the* saint, 
 knowing human nature, determined on associating with it 
 some object of a miraculous character, which should draw 
 people from all parts of the world to Ludgvan. The saint 
 prayed over the dry earth, which was beneath him, as he 
 knelt on the church stile. His prayer was for water, and 
 presently a most beautiful crystal stream welled up from 
 below. The holy man prayed on, and then, to try the 
 virtues of the water, he washed his eyes. They were 
 rendered at once more powerful, so penetrating, indeed, 
 as to enable him to see microscopic objects. The saint 
 prayed again, and then he drank of the water. He 
 discovered that his powers of utterance were greatly im- 
 proved, his tongue formed words with scarcely any effort of 
 his will. The saint now prayed that all children baptised 
 in the waters of this well might be protected against the 
 hangman and his hempen cord ; and an angel from heaven 
 came down into the water, and promised the saint that his 
 prayers should be granted. Not long after this, a good 
 farmer and his wife brought their babe to the saint, that it 
 might derive all the blessings belonging to this holy well. 
 The priest stood at the baptismal font, the parents, with 
 
 ^ Robert Hunt, Popular Romances of thi West of England, 2nd 
 series, p. 39. 
 
ENGLISH FOLK AND FAIRY TALES. 177 
 
 their friends around. The saint proceeded with the 
 baptismal ceremonial, and at length the time arrived when 
 he took the tender babe into his holy arms. He signed the 
 sign of the cross over the child, and when he sprinkled 
 water on the face of the infant its face glowed with a divine 
 intelligence. The priest then proceeded with the prayer ; 
 but, to the astonishment of all, whenever he used the name 
 of Jesus, the child, who had received the miraculous power 
 of speech from the water, pronounced distinctly the name 
 of the devil, much to the consternation of all present. The 
 saint knew that an evil spirit had taken possession of the 
 child, and he endeavoured to cast him out ; but the devil 
 proved stronger than the saint for some time. St. Ludgvan 
 was not to be beaten ; he knew that the spirit was a restless 
 soul, which had been exorcised from Treassow, and he 
 exerted all his energies in prayer. At length the spirit 
 became obedient, and left the child. He was now com- 
 manded by the saint to take his flight to the Red Sea. He 
 rose before the terrified spectators into a gigantic size, he 
 then spat into the well ; he laid hold of the pinnacles of the 
 tower, and shook the church until they thought it would 
 fall. The saint was alone unmoved. He prayed on, until, 
 like a flash of lightning, the demon vanished, shaking down 
 a pinnacle in his flight. The demon, by spitting in the 
 water, destroyed the spells of the water upon the eyes ^ and 
 the tongue too; but it fortunately retains its virtue of prevent- 
 ing any child baptised in it from being hanged with a cord of 
 hemp. Upon a cord of silk it is stated to have no power. 
 
 This well had nearly lost its reputation once — a Ludgvan 
 woman was hanged, under the circumstances told in the 
 following narrative : — 
 
 ^ It is curious that the faim over which some of this water flows is 
 called "Collurian " to this day. 
 
178 ENGLISH FOLK 
 
 A small farmer, living in one of the most western districts 
 of the county, died some years back of what was supposed 
 at that time to be " English cholera." A few weeks after 
 his decease his wife married again. This circumstance 
 excited some attention in the neighbourhood. It was 
 remembered that the woman had lived on very bad terms 
 with her late husband, that she had on many occasions 
 exhibited strong symptoms of possessing a very vindictive 
 temper, and that during the farmer's lifetime she had openly 
 manifested rather more than a Platonic preference for 
 the man whom she subsequently married. Suspicion was 
 generally excited ; people began to doubt whether the first 
 husband had died fairly. At length the proper order was 
 applied for, and his body was disinterred. On examination, 
 enough arsenic to have poisoned three men was found In the 
 stomach. The wife was accused of murdering her husband, 
 was tried, convicted on the clearest evidence, and hanged. 
 Very shortly after she had suffered capital punishment 
 horrible stories of a ghost were widely circulated. Certain 
 people declared that they had seen a ghastly resemblance of 
 the murderess, robed in her winding-sheet, with the black 
 mark of the rope round her swollen neck, standing on 
 stormy nights upon her husband's grave, and digging there 
 with a spade, in hideous imitation of the actions of the men 
 who had disinterred the corpse for medical examination. 
 This was fearful enough ; nobody dared go near the place 
 after nightfall. But soon another circumstance was talked 
 of in connection with the poisoner, which affected the 
 tranquillity of people's minds in the village where she had 
 lived, and where it was believed she had been born, more 
 seriously than even the ghost story itself The well of SL 
 Ludgvan, celebrated among the peasantry of the district 
 for its one remarkable property, that every child baptised 
 
AND FAIRY TALES. 179 
 
 in its water (with which the church was duly supph'ed on 
 christening occasions) was secure from ever being hanged 
 
 No one doubted that all the babies fortunate enough to 
 be born and baptised in the parish, though they might live 
 to the age of Methuselah, and might during that period 
 commit all the capital crimes recorded in the " Newgate 
 Calendar," were still destined to keep quite clear of the 
 summary jurisdiction of Jack Ketch. No one doubted this 
 until the story of the apparition of the murderess began 
 to be spread abroad, then awful misgivings arose in the 
 popular mind. 
 
 A woman who had been bom close by the magical well, 
 and who had therefore in all probability been baptised in its 
 water, like her neighbours of the parish, had nevertheless 
 been publicly and unquestionably hanged. However, 
 probability is not always the truth. Every parishioner 
 determined that the baptismal register of the poisoner 
 should be sought for, and that it should be thus officially 
 ascertained whether she had been christened with the well 
 water or not. After much trouble, the important document 
 was discovered — not where it was first looked after, but in a 
 neighbouring parish. A mistake had been made about the 
 woman's birthplace; she had not been baptised in St. 
 Ludgvan church, and had therefore not been protected by 
 the marvellous virtue of the local water. Unutterable was 
 the joy and triumph of this discovery. The wonderful 
 character of the parish well was wonderfully vindicated; 
 its celebrity immediately spread wider than ever. The 
 peasantry of the neighbouring districts began to send for 
 the renowned water before christenings ; and many of them 
 actually continue, to this day, to bring it corked up in 
 bottles to their churches, and to beg particularly that it may 
 be used whenever they present their children to be baptised. 
 
THE HEDLEY KOW.* 
 
 The Hedley Kow was a bogie, mischievous rather than 
 malignant, which haunted the village of Hedley, near 
 Ebchester. His appearance was never very alarming, and 
 he used to end his frolics with a horse-laugh at the expense 
 of his victims. He would present himself to some old 
 dame gathering sticks, in the form of a truss of straw, which 
 she would be sure to take up and carry away. Then it 
 would become so heavy she would have to lay her burden 
 down, on which the straw would become "quick," rise 
 upright, and shuffle away before her, till at last it vanished 
 from her sight with a laugh and shout. Again, in the shape 
 of a favourite cow, the sprite would lead the milkmaid a 
 long chase round the field, and after kicking and routing 
 during milking-time would upset the pail, slip clear of the 
 tie, and vanish with a loud laugh. Indeed the "Kow" 
 must have been a great nuisance in a farmhouse, for it is 
 said to have constantly imitated the voice of the servant- 
 girl's lovers, overturned the kail-pot, given the cream to the 
 cats, unravelled the knitting, or put the spinning-wheel out 
 of order. But the sprite made himself most obnoxious at 
 the birth of a child. He would torment the man who rode 
 for the howdie, frightening the horse, and often making him 
 upset both messenger and howdie, and leave them in the 
 road. Then he would mock the gudewife, and, when her 
 
 ^ William Henderson, Notes on the Folk-Lore of the Northern 
 Countiei of England and th^ Borders, p. 270. 
 
ENGLISH FOLK AND FAIRY TALES. i8i 
 
 angry husband rushed out with a stick to drive away the 
 " Kow " from the door or window, the stick would be 
 snatched from him, and lustily applied to his own 
 shoulders. 
 
 Two adventures with the Hedley Kow are thus related. 
 A farmer named Forster, who lived near Hedley, went out 
 into the field one morning, and caught, as he believed, his 
 own grey horse. After putting the harness on, and yoking 
 him to the cart, Forster was about to drive off, when the 
 creature slipped away from the limmers "like a knotless 
 thread," and set up a great nicker as he flung up his heels 
 and scoured away, revealing himself clearly as the Hedley 
 Kow. Again, two young men of Newlands, near Ebchester, 
 went out one evening to meet their sweethearts ; and arriv- 
 ing at the trysting-place, saw them, as it appeared, a short 
 distance before them. The girls walked on for two or three 
 miles; the lads followed, quite unable to overtake them, 
 till at last they found themselves up to the knees in a bog, 
 and their beguilers vanished, with a loud Ha ! ha ! The 
 young men got clear of the mire and ran homewards, as 
 fast as they could, the bogie at their heels hooting and 
 mocking them. In crossing the Derwent they fell into the 
 water, mistook each other for the sprite, and finally reached 
 home separately, each telling a fearful tale of having been 
 chased by the Hedley Kow, and nearly drowned in the 
 Derwent 
 
 Surely this Northern sprite is closely akin to Robin Good- 
 fellow, whom Ben Jonson introduced to us as speaking 
 thus : 
 
 " Sometimes I meete them like a man, 
 
 Sometimes an ox, sometimes a hound, 
 
 And to a horse I turn me can, 
 
 To trip and trot about them round. 
 
 14 
 
i82 ENGLISH FOLK AND FAIR Y TALES. 
 
 But if to ride 
 
 My backe they stride, 
 More swift than wind away I go : 
 
 O'er the hedge and lands, 
 
 Through pools and ponds, 
 I whirr>' laughing, Ho I ho ! ho ! " 
 
WITCHCRAFT. 
 
 THE LORD OF PENGERSWICK.1 
 
 THE LORD OF PENGERSWICK AN ENCHANTER. 
 
 The Lord of Pengerswick came from some Eastern clime, 
 bringing with him a foreign lady of great beauty. She was 
 considered by all an " outlandish " woman ; and by many 
 declared to be a " Saracen." No one, beyond the selected 
 servants, was ever allowed within the walls of Pengerswick 
 Castle ; and they, it was said, were bound by magic spells. 
 No one dared tell of anything transacted within the walls ; 
 consequently all was conjecture amongst the neighbouring 
 peasantry, miners, and fishermen. Certain it was, they said, 
 that Pengerswick would shut himself up for days together 
 in his chamber, burning strange things, which sent their 
 strong odours, — not only to every part of the castle, — but 
 for miles around the country. Often at night, and especially 
 in stormy weather, Pengerswick was heard for hours together 
 calling up the spirits, by reading from his books in some 
 unknown tongue. On those occasions his voice would roll 
 through the halls louder than the surging waves which beat 
 against the neighbouring rocks, the spirits replying like the 
 roar of thunder. Then would all the servants rush in fright 
 
 ^ Robert Hunt, Popular Romances of the West of England, 2nd 
 series, p. 86. 
 
i84 ENGLISH FOLK 
 
 from the building, and remain crowded together, even in 
 the most tempestuous night, in one of the open courts. 
 Fearful indeed would be the strife between the man and the 
 demons ; and it sometimes happened that the spirits were 
 too powerful for the enchanter. He was, however, con- 
 stantly and carefully watched by his wife; and whenever 
 the strife became too serious, her harp was heard making 
 the softest, the sweetest music. At this the spirits fled; 
 and they were heard passing through the air towards the 
 Land's End, moaning like the soughing of a departing 
 storm. The lights would then be extinguished in the 
 enchanter's tower, and all would be peace. The servants 
 would return to their apartments with a feeling of perfect 
 confidence. They feared their master, but their mistress 
 inspired them with love. Lady Pengerswick was never seen 
 beyond the grounds surrounding the castle. She sat all day 
 in lonely state and pride in her tower, the lattice-window of 
 her apartment being high on the seaward side. Her voice, 
 accompanying the music of her harp, was rarely heard, but 
 when she warbled the soft love strains of her Eastern land. 
 Often at early dawn the very fishes of the neighbouring bay 
 would raise their heads above the surface of the waters, 
 enchanted by the music and the voice ; and it is said that 
 the mermaids from the Lizard, and many of the strange 
 spirits of the waters, would come near to Pengerswick cove, 
 drawn by the same influence. On moonlight nights the air 
 has often seemed to be full of sound, and yet the lady's voice 
 was seldom louder than that of a warbling bird. On these 
 occasions men have seen thousands of spirits gliding up and 
 down the moonbeams, and floating idly on the silvered 
 waves, listening to, and sometimes softly echoing, the words 
 which Lady Pengerswick sang. Long did this strange 
 pair inhabit this lonely castle ; and although the Lord of 
 
AND FAIRY TALES. 185 
 
 Pcngerswick frequently rode abroad on a most magnificent 
 horse — which had the reputation of being of Satanic origin, 
 it was at once so docile to its master and so wild to any 
 other person — yet he made no acquaintance with any of 
 the neighbouring gentry. He was feared by all, and yet 
 they respected him for many of the good deeds performed 
 by him. He completely enthralled the Giants of the 
 Mount; and before he disappeared from Cornwall, they 
 died, owing, it was said, to grief and want of food. 
 
 Where the Lord of Pengerswick came from, no one knew; 
 he, with his lady, with two attendants, who never spoke in 
 any but an Eastern tongue, which was understood by none 
 around them, made their appearance one winter's day, 
 mounted on beautiful horses, evidently from Arabia or some 
 distant land. 
 
 They soon — having gold in abundance — got possession 
 of a cottage ; and in a marvellously short time the castle, 
 which yet bears his name, was rebuilt by this lord. Many 
 affirm that the lord by the force of his enchantments, and 
 the lady by the spell of her voice, compelled the spirits of 
 the earth and air to work for them ; and that three nights 
 were sufficient to rear an enormous pile, of which but one 
 tower now remains. 
 
 Their coming was sudden and mysterious ; their going 
 was still more so. Years had rolled on, and the people 
 around were familiarised with those strange neighbours, 
 from whom also they derived large profits, since they paid 
 whatsoever price was demanded for any article which they 
 required. One day a stranger was seen in Market-Jew, 
 whose face was bronzed by long exposure to an Eastern sun. 
 No one knew him ; and he eluded the anxious inquiries 
 of the numerous gossips, who were especially anxious 
 to learn something of this man, who, it was surmised by 
 
i86 ENGLISH FOLK 
 
 every one, must have some connection with Pengerswick or 
 his lady ; yet no one could assign any reason for such a 
 supposition. Week after week passed away, and the 
 stranger remained in the town, giving no sign. Wonder 
 was on every old woman's lips, and expressed in every old 
 man's eyes ; but they had to wonder on. One thing, it was 
 said, had been noticed; and this seemed to confirm the 
 suspicions of the people. The stranger wandered out on 
 dark nights — spent them, it was thought, on the sea-shore ; 
 and some fishermen said they had seen him seated on the 
 rock at the entrance of the valley of Pengerswick. It was 
 thought that the lord kept more at home than usual, and of 
 late no one had heard his incantation songs and sounds; 
 neither had they heard the harp of the lady. A very 
 tempestuous night, singular for its gloom — when even the 
 ordinary light, which, on the darkest night, is evident to the 
 traveller in the open country, did not exist — appears to have 
 brought things to their climax. There was a sudden alarm 
 in Market- Jew, a red glare in the eastern sky, and presently 
 a burst of flames above the hill, and St. Michael's Mount 
 was illuminated in a remarkable manner. Pengerswick 
 Castle was on fire ; the servants fled in terror ; but neither 
 the lord nor his lady could be found. From that day to the 
 present they were lost to alL 
 
 The interior of the castle was entirely destroyed ; not a 
 vestige of furniture, books, or anything belonging to the 
 " Enchanter " could be found. He and everything belong- 
 ing to him had vanished; and, strange to tell, from that 
 night the bronzed stranger was never again seea The 
 inhabitants of Market-Jew naturally crowded to the fire; 
 and when all was over they returned to their homes, 
 speculating on the strange occurrences of the night. Two 
 of the oldest people always declared that, when the flames 
 
AND FAIRY TALES. 187 
 
 were at the highest, they saw two men and a lady floating 
 in the midst of the fire, and that they ascended from amidst 
 the falling walls, passed through the air like lightning, and 
 disappeared. 
 
 11. 
 
 THE WITCH OF FRADDAM AND THE ENCHANTER OF 
 PENGERSWICK. 
 
 Again and again had the Lord of Pengerswick reversed the 
 spells of the Witch of Fraddam, who was reported to be 
 the most powerful weird woman in the west country. She 
 had been thwarted so many times by this *' white witch " 
 that she resolved to destroy him by some magic more 
 potent than anything yet heard of. It is said that she 
 betook herself to Kynance Cove, and that there she raised 
 the devil by her incantations, and that she pledged her soul 
 to him in return for the aid he promised. The enchanter's 
 famous mare was to be seduced to drink from a tub of 
 poisoned water placed by the roadside, the effect of which 
 was to render him in the highest degree restive, and cause 
 him to fling his rider. The wounded Lord of Pengerswick 
 was, in his agony, to be drenched by the old witch with 
 some hell-broth, brewed in the blackest night, under the 
 most evil aspects of the stars ; by this he would be in her 
 power for ever, and she might torment him as she pleased. 
 The devil felt certain of securing the soul of the Witch of 
 Fraddam, but he was less certain of securing that of the 
 enchanter. They say indeed that the sorcery which 
 Pengerswick learned in the East was so potent that the 
 devil feared him. However, as the proverb is, he held with 
 the hounds and ran with the hare. The witch collected 
 with the utmost care all the deadly things she could obtain, 
 with which to brew her famous drink. In the darkest 
 
1 88 ENGLISH FOLK 
 
 night, in the midst of the wildest storms, amidst the flash- 
 ings of lightnings and the bellowings of the thunder, the 
 witch was seen riding on her black ram-cat over the moors 
 and mountains in search of her poisons. At length all was 
 complete — the horse drink was boiled, the hell-broth was 
 brewed. It was in March, about the time of the equinox; 
 the night was dark, and the King of Storms was abroad. 
 The witch planted her tub of drink in a dark lane, through 
 which she knew the Lord of Pengerswick must pass, and 
 near to it she sat, croning over her crock of broth. The 
 witch-woman had not long to waitj amidst the hmrying 
 winds was heard the heavy tramp of the enchanter's mare, 
 and soon she perceived the outline of man and horse 
 defined sharply against the line of lurid light which 
 stretched along the western horizon. On they came ; the 
 witch was scarcely able to contain herself — her joys and her 
 fears, struggling one with the other, almost overpowered 
 her. On came the horse and his rider: they neared the 
 tub of drink ; the mare snorted loudly, and her eyes flashed 
 fire as she looked at the black tub by the roadside. 
 Pengerswick bent him over the horse's neck and whispered 
 into her ear ; she turns round, and, flinging out her heels, 
 with one kick she scattered all to the wild winds. The tub 
 flew before the blow ; it rushed against the crock, which it 
 overturned, and striking against the legs of the old Witch 
 of Fraddam, she fell along with the tub, which assumed 
 the shape of a coffin. Her terror was extreme: she who 
 thought to have unhorsed the conjurer, found herself in a 
 carriage for which she did not bargain. The enchanter 
 raised his voice and gave utterance to some wild words in 
 an unknown tongue, at which even his terrible mare 
 trembled. A whirlwind arose, and the devil was in the 
 midst of it He took the coffin in which lay the terrified 
 
AND FAIRY TALES. 189 
 
 witch high into the air, and the crock followed them. The 
 derisive laughter of Pengerswick, and the savage neighing 
 of the horse, were heard above the roar of the winds. At 
 length, with a satisfied tone, he exclaimed : " She is settled 
 till the day of doom," gave the mare the spurs, and rode 
 rapidly home. 
 
 The Witch of Fraddam still floats up and down, over the 
 seas, around the coast, in her coffin, followed by the crock, 
 which seems like a punt in attendance on a jolly-boat. She 
 still works mischief, stirring up the sea with her ladle and 
 broom till the waves swell into mountains, which heave off 
 from their crests so much mist and foam that these wild 
 wanderers of the winds can scarcely be seen through the 
 mist. Woe to the mariner who sees the witch ! 
 
 The Lord of Pengerswick alone had power over her. He 
 had but to stand on his tower, and blow three blasts on his 
 trumpet, to summon her to the shore, and compel her to 
 peace. 
 
THE WITCH AND THE TOAD.i 
 
 An old woman called Alsey — usually Aunt Alsey — occupied 
 a small cottage in Anthony, one of a row which belonged 
 to a tradesman living in Dock — as Devonport was then 
 designated, to distinguish it from Plymouth. The old 
 woman possessed a very violent temper, and this, more 
 than anything else, fixed upon her the character of being a 
 witch. Her landlord had frequently sought his rent, and as 
 frequently he received nothing but abuse. He had, on the 
 special occasion to which our narrative refers, crossed the 
 Tamar and walked to Anthony, with the firm resolve of 
 securing his rent, now long in arrear, and of turning the 
 old termagant out of the cottage. A violent scene 
 ensued, and the vicious old woman, more than a match for 
 a really kind-hearted and quiet man, remained the mistress 
 of the situation. She seated herself in the door of her 
 cottage and cursed her landlord's wife, " the child she was 
 carrying," and all belonging to him, with so devilish a spite 
 
 that Mr. owned he was fairly driven away in terror. 
 
 On returning home, he, of course, told his wife all the 
 circumstances ; and while they were discoursing on the 
 subject — the whole story being attentively listened to by 
 their daughter, then a young girl, who is my informant — a 
 woman came into the shop requiring some articles which 
 they sold. 
 
 ^ Robert Hunt, Popular Romances of the West of England^ 2nd 
 series, p. 105. 
 
ENGLISH FOLK AND FAIR Y TALES, igi 
 
 " Sit still, father," said Mrs. to her husband ; " you 
 
 must be tired. I will see to the shop." 
 
 So she went from the parlour into the shop, and, hearing 
 the wants of her customer, proceeded to supply them ; 
 gossiping gaily, as was her wont, to interest the buyer. 
 
 Mrs. was weighing one of the articles required, 
 
 when something falling heavily from the ceiling of the shop, 
 struck the beam out of her hand, and both — the falling 
 body and the scales — came together with much noise on to 
 the counter. At the same instant both women screamed ; 
 — the shopkeeper calling also: " Father ! father ! " — meaning 
 her husband thereby — with great energy. 
 
 Mr. and his daughter were in the shop instantly, 
 
 and there, on the counter, they saw an enormous and most 
 ugly toad sprawling amidst the chains of the scales. The 
 first action of the man was to run back to the parlour, seize 
 the tongs, and return to the shop. He grasped the swollen 
 toad with the tongs, the vicious creature spitting all the 
 time, and, without a word, he went back and flung it 
 behind the block of wood which was burning in the grate. 
 The object of terror being removed, the wife, who was 
 shortly to become the mother of another child, though 
 usually a woman who had great command over her feelings, 
 fainted. 
 
 This circumstance demanding all their attention, the toad 
 was forgotten. The shock was a severe one ; and although 
 
 Mrs. was restored in a little time to her senses, she 
 
 again and again became faint. Those fits continuing, her 
 
 medical attendant, Dr. , was sent for, and on his arrival 
 
 he ordered that his patient should be immediately placed in 
 bed, and the husband was informed that he must be 
 prepared for a premature birth. 
 
 The anxiety occasioned by these circumstances, and the 
 
xga ENGLISH FOLK 
 
 desire to afford every relief to his wife, so fully occupied 
 
 Mr. , that for an hour or two he entirely forgot the 
 
 cause of all this mischief; or, perhaps satisfying himself 
 that the toad was burnt to ashes, he had no curiosity to 
 look after it. He was, however, suddenly summoned from 
 the bedroom, in which he was with his wife, by his daughter 
 calling to him, in a voice of terror : 
 
 " O father, the toad, the toad ! " 
 
 Mr. rushed downstairs, and he then discovered that 
 
 the toad, though severely burnt, had escaped destruction. 
 
 It must have crawled up over the log of wood, and from 
 it have fallen down amongst the ashes. There it was now 
 making useless struggles to escape, by climbing over the 
 fender. 
 
 The tongs were again put in requisition, with the inten- 
 tion this time of carrying the reptile out of the house. 
 Before, however, he had time to do so, a man from 
 Anthony came hastily into the shop with the information 
 that Aunt Alsey had fallen into the fire, as the people sup- 
 posed, in a fit, and that she was nearly burnt to death. This 
 man had been sent off with two commissions — one to fetch 
 
 the doctor, and the other to bring Mr. with him, as 
 
 much of the cottage had been injured by fire, communi- 
 cated to it by the old woman's dress. 
 
 In as short a time as possible the parish surgeon and Mr. 
 
 were at Anthony, and too truly they found the old 
 
 woman most severely burnt — so seriously indeed there was 
 no chance that one so aged could rally from the shock 
 which her system must have received. However, a litter 
 was carefully prepared, the old woman was placed in it, and 
 carried to the workhouse. Every attention was given to her 
 situation, but she never recovered perfect consciousness 
 and during the night she died. 
 
AND FAIR Y TALES. 193 
 
 The toad, which we left inside the fender in front of a 
 blazing fire, was removed from a position so trying to any 
 cold-blooded animal, by the servant, and thrown, with a 
 " hugh " and a shudder, upon one of the flower-beds in the 
 small garden behind the house. 
 
 There it lay the next morning dead, and when examined 
 
 by Mr. , it was found that all the injuries sustained by 
 
 the toad corresponded with those received by the poor old 
 wretch, who had no doubt fallen a victim to passion. 
 
 As we have only to deal with the mysterious relation 
 which existed between the witch and the toad, it is not 
 necessary that we should attend further to the innocent 
 victim of an old woman's vengeance, than to say that 
 eventually a babe was born — that that babe grew to be a 
 handsome man, was an officer in the navy, and having 
 married, went to sea, and perished, leaving a widow with an 
 unborn child to lament his loss. Whether this was a result 
 of the witch's curse, those who are more deeply skilled in 
 witchcraft than I am may perhapf? telL 
 
WITCH AND HARE.1 
 
 An old witch, in days of yore, lived in this neighbourhood j 
 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 hard 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 turned out, the hare 
 pursued, often seen but never caught, a sportsman of the 
 party began to suspect, in the language of the tradition, 
 " that the devil was in the dance," and there would be no 
 end to it. The matter was discussed, 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 hour 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 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 cartie, the hounds were unkennelled, and huntsmen 
 and sportsmen set off 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 
 
 ^ Mrs. Bray, The Borders of the Tamar and the Tavy, vol. ii. p. II2. 
 
ENGLISH FOLK AND FAIR Y TALES. 195 
 
 pursued at a desperate rate, and the boy, forgetting himself 
 in a moment of alarm, was heard to exclaim: " Run, Granny, 
 run ; run for your life ! " At last the pursuers lost the hare, 
 and she once more got safe into the cottage by a little hole 
 in the door ; not large enough to admit a hound in chase. 
 The huntsman and all the squires with their train lent a 
 hand to break open the door, yet 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. Upstairs they all went. There they found 
 the old hag bleeding, 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; maybe 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, which 
 was granted on condition of its being received together with 
 a good whipping ; and the huntsman, having long practised 
 amongst the hounds, now tried his hand on other 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 martyr, at the 
 stake. 
 
THE HAND OF GLORY.i 
 
 One evening, between the years 1790 and i8co, a 
 traveller, dressed in woman's clothes, arrived at the Old 
 Spital Inn, the place where the mail coach changed horses, 
 in High Spital, on Bowes Moor. The traveller begged to 
 stay all night, but had to go away so early in the morning 
 that if a mouthful of food were set ready for breakfast there 
 was no need the family should be disturbed by her depar- 
 ture. The people of the house, however, arranged that a 
 servant maid should sit up till the stranger was out of the 
 premises, and then went to bed themselves. The girl lay 
 down for a nap on the longsettle by the fire, but before 
 she shut her eyes she took a good look at the traveller, who 
 was sitting on the opposite side of the hearth, and espied a 
 pair of man's trousers peeping out from under the gown. 
 All inclination for sleep was now gone ; however, with great 
 self-command, she feigned it, closed her eyes, and even 
 began to snore. On this the traveller got up, pulled out of 
 his pocket a dead man's hand, fitted a candle to it, lighted 
 the candle, and passed hand and candle several times 
 before the servant girl's face, saying as he did so : " Let 
 those who are asleep be asleep, and let those who are 
 awake be awake." This done, he placed the light on the 
 table, opened the outer door, went down two or three of 
 the steps which led from the house to the road, and began 
 
 * William Henderson, Notes on the Folk- Lore of the Northern 
 Counties of England and the Borders, p. 241. 
 
ENGLISH FOLK AND FAIRY TALES. 197 
 
 to whistle for his companions. The girl (who had hitherto 
 had presence of mind enough to remain perfectly quiet) 
 now jumped up, rushed behind the ruffian, and pushed him 
 down the steps. She then shut the door, locked it, and ran 
 upstairs to try and wake the family, but without success : 
 calling, shouting, and shaking were alike in vain. The 
 poor girl was in despair, for she heard the traveller and his 
 comrades outside the house. So she ran down again, 
 seized a bowl of blue (/.<r., skimmed milk), and threw it over 
 the hand and candle ; after which she went upstairs again, 
 and awoke the sleepers without any difficulty. The land- 
 lord's son went to the window, and asked the men outside 
 what they wanted. They answered that if the dead man's 
 hand were but given them, they would go away quietly, and 
 do no harm to any one. This he refused, and fired among 
 them, and the shot must have taken effect, for in the 
 morning stains of blood were traced to a considerable 
 distance. 
 
 These circumstances were related to my informant, Mr. 
 Charles Wastell, in the spring of 1861, by an old woman 
 named Bella Parkin, who resided close to High Spital, and 
 was actually the daughter of the courageous servant girl. 
 
 It is interesting to compare them with the following 
 narrations, communicated to me by the Rev. S. Baring 
 Gould: — "Two magicians having come to lodge in a 
 public-house with a view to robbing it, asked permission to 
 pass the night by the fire, and obtained it When the 
 house was quiet, the servant girl, suspecting mischief, crept 
 downstairs and looked through the key-hole. She saw the 
 men open a sack, and take out a dry, withered hand. They 
 anointed the fingers with some unguent, and lighted them. 
 Each finger flamed, but the thumb they could not light; 
 that was because one of the household was not asleep. 
 
 15 
 
198 ENGLISH FOLK 
 
 The girl hastened to her master, but found it impossible to 
 arouse him. She tried every other sleeper, but could not 
 break the charmed sleep. At last, stealing down into the 
 kitchen, while the thieves were busy over her master's 
 strong box, she secured the hand, blew out the flames, and 
 at once the whole household was aroused. "^ 
 
 But the next story bears a closer resemblance to the 
 Stainmore narrative. One dark night, when all was shut 
 up, there came a tap at the door of a lone inn in the middle 
 of a barren moor. The door was opened, and there stood 
 without, shivering and shaking, a poor beggar, his rags 
 soaked with rain, and his hands white with cold. He 
 asked piteously for a lodging, and it was cheerfully granted 
 him ; there was not a spare bed in the house, but he could 
 lie on the mat before the kitchen fire, and welcome. 
 
 So this was settled, and every one in the house went to 
 bed except the cook, who from the back kitchen could see 
 into the large room through a pane of glass let into the door. 
 She watched the beggar, and saw him, as soon as he was left 
 alone, draw himself up from the floor, seat himself at the 
 table, extract from his pocket a brown withered human hand, 
 and set it upright in the candlestick. He then anointed 
 the fingers, and applying a match to them, they began to 
 flame. Filled with horror, the cook rushed up the back 
 stairs, and endeavoured to arouse her master and the men 
 of the house. But all was in vain — they slept a charmed 
 sleep ; so in despair she hastened down again, and placed 
 herself at her post of observation. 
 
 She saw the fingers of the hand flaming, but the thumb 
 
 remained unlighted, because one inmate of the house was 
 
 awake. The beggar was busy collecting the valuables 
 
 around him into a large sack, and having taken all he cared 
 
 * Delrio. See also Thorpe's Mythology , vol. iil. p. 274- 
 
AND FAIRY TALES. rgg 
 
 for in the large room, he entered another. On this the 
 woman ran in, and, seizing the light, tried to extinguish the 
 flames. But this was not so easy. She blew at them, but 
 they burnt on as before. She poured the dregs of a beer 
 jug over them, but they blazed up the brighter. As a last 
 resource, she caught up a jug of milk, and dashed it over 
 the four lambent flames, and they died out at once. Utter- 
 ing a loud cry, she rushed to the door of the apartment the 
 beggar had entered, and locked it. The whole family was 
 aroused, and the thief easily secured and hanged. This 
 tale is told in Northumberland. 
 
BETTY CHIDLEY THE WITCH.i 
 
 A FAMILY of the name of Ambler occupied a farm at 
 Wilderley, near Pulverbatch, and in a little cottage in a 
 neighbouring dale lived an old woman, commonly called 
 "Betty Chidley from the bottom of Betchcot," who was 
 much in the habit of begging at the farmhouse, and 
 generally got what she asked for. One day Betty came on 
 her usual errand, and found the farmer's wife mixing some 
 " supping " for the calves. She watched the good meal and 
 milk stirred together over the fire, took a fancy to it, and 
 begged for a share. Mrs. Ambler, rather vexed, spoke 
 sharply, and refused to give her any. 
 
 Betty only said in a meaning tone : " The calves wenna 
 eat the suppin' now." 
 
 Little notice was taken of her speech at the time, but 
 when the maid carried out the pail of carefully-prepared 
 " suppin' " to the calves, they utterly refused to touch it. 
 Three times over was the attempt made to give it them, but 
 in vain. 
 
 Then Betty's ominous words were called to mind, and as 
 quickly as might be she was sent for to the farm, and 
 desired to bless the calves. " Me bless your calves ! " she 
 said ; " what have I to do with your calves ? " but at last she 
 yielded to their entreaties, and said : '* My God bless the 
 calves." But the creatures still refused to eat. Then 
 Mrs. Ambler begged her to leave out the word " my." 
 
 ^ Miss C. S. Burne, Shropshire Folk-Lore^ p. 151. 
 
ENGLISH FOLK AND FAIRY TALES. 201 
 
 After much pressure she gave way, and consented to repeat 
 the simple words : "God bless the calves." Mrs. Ambler 
 then herself took the " suppin' " to the hungry calves, and 
 to her delight they came to meet her at the door of their 
 house, and ate their food with hearty appetite. The story 
 has been handed down in the family ever since, and was 
 related to the present writer by a great-grand-daughter of 
 Mr. and Mrs. Ambler, who had it from her great-aunt, one 
 of their daughters. 
 
THE BAG OF FLOUR.1 
 
 There was a woman who lived near Cheadle, who went to 
 the mill one day to get a bag of flour for baking, and as she 
 came back she met an old witch. " Good day," said the 
 witch. "Good day," said the woman again. •' What's that 
 you've got on your head ? " said the witch. " It's flour I'm 
 taking home for my baking," said the woman. " It isn't 
 flour, it's manure," said the witch. " It's sound flour ! " 
 said the woman ; " I've fetched it straight from the mill, and 
 I'm going to bake with it as soon as ever I get home." 
 " It's nothing at all but a bag of manure," said the witch, 
 and ofi" she went. 
 
 Now the woman knew very well that it was flour she had 
 in her bag, but this made her feel so uncomfortable, that as 
 soon as the witch was out of sight, she put down the bag off 
 her head and opened it and looked in. And there, sure 
 enough, it was not flour at all, nothing but manure ! Well 
 she thought, as she had carried it so far, she might as well 
 carry it all the way, so she took it up again, and went home 
 and set it down by the pig-sty. In the evening her husband 
 came home. 
 
 " Whatever have you put that bag of flour down by the 
 pig-sty for ? " he said, as soon as he came into the house. 
 "Oh," said she, "that's not flour, that's only a bag of 
 manure." " Nonsense ! " said he, " what are you talking 
 of? I tell you it's flour. Why, it's sheeding [spilling] all 
 
 * Miss C. S. Bume, Shropshire Folk-Lore, p. 159. 
 
ENGLISH FOLK AND FAIR Y TALES. 203 
 
 over the place ! " So they went to look, and there actually 
 it was flour again the same as at first ; and they took it into 
 the house, and very glad the woman was to get it back. 
 And that was the only thing the witch was ever known to 
 turn [transform] back again. She turned a many things, 
 but never a one back again but that. 
 
KENTSHAM BELL-i 
 
 Great Tom of Kentsham was the greatest bell ever brought 
 to England, but it never reached Kentsham safely, nor 
 hung in any English tower. Where Kentsham is I cannot 
 tell you, but long, long ago the good folk of the place 
 determined to have a larger and finer bell in their steeple 
 than any other parish could boast. At that time there 
 was a famous bell-foundry abroad, where all the greatest 
 bells were cast, and thither too sent many others who 
 wanted greater bells than could be cast in England. And 
 so it came to pass at length that Great Tom of Lincoln, 
 and Great Tom of York, and Great Tom of Christchurch, 
 and Great Tom of Kentsham, were all founded at the 
 same time, and all embarked on board the same vessel, 
 and carried safely to the shore of dear old England. Then 
 they set about landing them, and this was anxious work, 
 but little by little it was done, and Tom of Lincoln, Tom 
 of York, Tom of Christchurch, were safely laid on English 
 ground. And then came the turn of Tom of Kentsham, 
 which was the greatest Tom of all. Little by little they 
 raised him, and prepared to draw him to the shore; but 
 just in the midst of the work the captain grew so anxious 
 and excited that he swore an oath. That very moment 
 the ropes which held the bell snapped in two, and Great 
 Tom of Kentsham slid over the ship's side into the water, 
 and rolled away to the bottom of the sea. 
 
 * Folk-Lore Journal, vol. ii. p. 20. 
 
ENGLISH FOLK AND FAIR Y TALES. 205 
 
 Then the people went to the cunning man and asked 
 him what they should do. And he said: "Take six yoke 
 of white milch-kine which have never borne the yoke, 
 and take fresh withy bands which have never been used 
 before, and let no man speak a word either good or bad 
 till the bell is at the top of the hill." 
 
 So they took six yoke of white milch-kine which had 
 never borne the yoke, and harnessed them with fresh withy- 
 bands which had never been used, and bound these to 
 the bell as it lay in the shallow water, and long it was 
 ere they could move it. But still the kine struggled and 
 pulled, and the withy-bands held firm, and at last the bell 
 was on dry ground. Slowly, slowly they drew it up the 
 hill, moaning and groaning with unearthly sounds as it 
 went; slowly, slowly, and no one spoke, and they nearly 
 reached the top of the hill. Now the captain had been 
 wild with grief when he saw that he had caused his precious 
 freight to be lost in the waters just as they had reached 
 the shore; and when he beheld it recovered again and 
 so nearly placed in safety, he could not contain his joy, 
 but sang out merrily : 
 
 " In spite of all the devils in hell, 
 We have got to land old Kentsham Bell." 
 
 Instantly the withy-bands broke in the midst, and the bell 
 bounded back again down the sloping hillside, rolling over 
 and over, faster and faster, with unearthly clanging, till 
 it sank far away in the very depths of the sea. And no 
 man has ever seen it since, but many have heard it tolling 
 beneath the waves, and if you go there you may hear 
 it too. 
 
GHOSTS. 
 
 A BISHOP'S GHOST.i 
 
 Henry Burgwash, who became Bishop of Lincoln on 
 the 28th of May 1320, is chiefly memorable on account 
 of a curious ghost story recorded of him in connection with 
 the manor of Fingest, in Bucks. Until the year 1845, 
 Buckinghamshire was in the diocese of Lincoln, and 
 formerly the bishops of that see possessed considerable 
 estates and two places of residence in the county. They 
 had the palace of Wooburn, near Marlow, and a manorial 
 residence at Fingest, a small secluded village near Wycomb. 
 Their manor-house of Fingest, the ruins of which still 
 exist, stood near the church, and was but a plain mansion, 
 of no great size or pretensions. And why those princely 
 prelates, who possessed three or four baronial palaces, and 
 scores of manor-houses superior to this, chose so often to 
 reside here, is unknown. Perhaps it was on account of 
 its sheltered situation, or from its suitableness for meditation, 
 or because the surrounding country was thickly wooded 
 and well stocked with deer; for in the "merrie days of 
 Old England," bishops thought no harm in heading a 
 hunting party. Be this as it may, certain it is that many 
 of the early prelates of Lincoln, although their palace of 
 
 ^ Chambers's Book of Days ^ vol. L p. 690. 
 
ENGLISH FOLK AND FAIRY TALES. 207 
 
 Wooburn was near at hand, often preferred to reside at 
 their humble manor-house of Fingest. One of these was 
 Henry Burgwash, who has left reminiscences of his residence 
 here more amusing to posterity than creditable to himself. 
 ** He was," says Fuller, " neither good for church nor state, 
 sovereign nor subjects ; but was covetous, ambitious, rebel- 
 lious, injurious. Yet he was twice lord treasurer, once 
 chancellor, and once sent ambassador to Bavaria. He died 
 A.D. 1340. Such as wish to be merry," continues Fuller, 
 "may read the pleasant story of his apparition being 
 condemned after death to be viridis viridarius — a green 
 forester." In his Church History, Fuller gives this pleasant 
 story : " This Burgwash was he who, by mere might, against 
 all right and reason, took in the common land of many 
 poor people (without making the least reparation), there- 
 with to complete his park at Tinghurst (Fingest). These 
 wronged persons, though seeing their own bread, beef, and 
 mutton turned into the bishop's venison, durst not contest 
 with him who was Chancellor of England, though he had 
 neither law nor equity in his proceeding." He persisted 
 in this cruel act of injustice even to the day of his death ; 
 but having brought on himself the hatred and maledictions 
 of the poor, he could not rest quietly in his grave ; for his 
 spirit was doomed to wander about that land which he had, 
 while living, so unjustly appropriated to himself. It so 
 happened, however, as we are gravely informed by his 
 biographer, that on a certain night he appeared to one of 
 his former familiar friends, apparelled like a forester, all 
 in green, with a bow and quiver, and a bugle-horn 
 hanging by his side. To this gentleman he made known 
 his miserable case. He said, that on account of the 
 injuries he had done the poor while living, he was now 
 compelled to be the park-keeper of that place which he 
 
2o8 ENGLISH FOLK AND FAIR V TALES. 
 
 had so wrongfully enclosed. He therefore entreated his 
 friend to repair to the canons of Lincoln, and in his name 
 to request them to have the bishop's park reduced to its 
 former extent, and to restore to the poor the land which 
 he had taken from them. His friend duly carried his 
 message to the canons, who, with equal readiness, complied 
 with their dead bishop's ghostly request, and deputed one 
 of their prebendaries, William Bacheler, to see the restor- 
 ation properly effected. The bishop's park was reduced, 
 and the common restored to its former dimensions; and 
 the ghostly park-keeper was no more seen. 
 
A CLERGYMAN'S GHOST.i 
 
 In the south of Devon, some eighteen or twenty years ago, 
 a reverend gentleman, of large landed property, held a 
 small benefice in his immediate neighbourhood, for the 
 purpose of evading residence in another quarter. He was 
 accustomed to perform the duty every Sunday, and was 
 conveyed to the church in his chariot through one of those 
 narrow, shady lanes for which that country was then so 
 justly famed. He died, and his remains were consigned to 
 the vault in the church of the above-mentioned benefice, 
 with much pomp and ceremony, and followed by a long 
 procession of friends, tenants, and the surrounding neigh- 
 bourhood. But his spirit was not supposed to rest in 
 peace. Villagers returning from their labours had been 
 terrified by the sound of carriage-wheels in the shady lane ; 
 and one had even seen the chariot itself drawn by headless 
 horses. The rumour spread, till it was confidently asserted 
 in the cider shops that "twelve parsons" had been con- 
 vened to lay the spirit in the Red Sea. Still, the lane was 
 believed to be haunted; and on investigating the reason 
 why the spell had not taken effect, it was conjectured that, 
 as one of the twelve parsons had been the intimate friend 
 of the deceased — as he knawed the trick — he would com- 
 municate it to him, and so render it abortive. That parson 
 was therefore struck out of the list, and the vicar of an 
 
 ^ Athenaum, 7th November 1846, p. 1142, quoted by Jabez Allies, 
 On the Antiquities and Folk-Lore of Worcestershire ^ p. 464. 
 
2IO ENGLISH FOLK AND FAIRY TALES. 
 
 adjoining parish, lately come into residence, from " Lunnun 
 town," did it all hisself^ and neither chariot nor horses was 
 ever knawed to walk again. This superstition was current 
 under the immediate knowledge of the writer of this 
 anecdote. 
 
THE HAUNTED HOUSE.i 
 
 About half a mile from Tavistock there is a farm called 
 Down House ; the dwelling itself was rebuilt about eleven 
 or twelve years ago. It was considered before an ancient 
 place, and haunted by ghosts. Here is a story of one. 
 The family who resided there well knew the hovu: of the 
 night in which the ghosts made their appearance, and 
 always took care to go to bed before they 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 dis- 
 tressed, unwilling to displease 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 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 resolution, however, she 
 said : " In the name of God, why troublest thou me ? " The 
 ghost replied : ** 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, 
 
 ^ Mrs. Bray, Tlie Borders of the Tamar and the Ttrpy, voL U- 
 p. 129. 
 
212 ENGLISH FOLK AND FAIR Y TALES. 
 
 and I will direct thee to a something which shall remove 
 this pump. Under it is concealed treasure." 
 
 This something was procured, and applied as the ghost 
 directed. The pump was quickly removed, when under it 
 there lay a great deal of money. She was desired 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 would 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 ; directly the figure dwindled again to a shadow, 
 ascended through the air, and she watched till he soon 
 became a small bright cloud. 
 
GHOST-LAYING STORIES. 
 
 Some years back a clergyman, on taking possession of a 
 living on the confines of Dartmoor, found it necessary to 
 enlarge the house, which was really little better than the 
 peasants' cottages around it. He lengthened the one 
 sitting-room, and made it into a tolerable dining-room, 
 adding a drawing-room and two or three bedrooms. These 
 improvements satisfied his wife and children; but there was 
 one interested party whom he had left out of consideration 
 — the spirit of his predecessor, an old gentleman who had 
 outlived all his family, and passed many solitary years in 
 the remote parsonage. 
 
 And ere long the consequences of this neglect appeared. 
 Sounds were soon heard of an evening as though a figure in 
 a dressing-gown were sweeping in and out of the rooms, 
 and treading with a soft yet heavy tread, and this particu- 
 larly in the dining-room, where the old Vicar had spent the 
 last years of his life, sitting over the fire, or pacing up and 
 down in his dressing-gown and slippers. The eerie sounds 
 began at nightfall, and continued at intervals till morning. 
 Uneasiness pervaded the household. Servants gave warn- 
 ing and went away ; no one applied for their vacant places. 
 The daughters fell ill, and were sent away for change of air; 
 
 ^ W. Henderson, Notes on the Folk-Lore of the Northern Counties of 
 England and the Borders, p. 336. 
 
 16 
 
214 ENGLISH FOLK 
 
 then their mother was anxious about them, and went to see 
 how they were going on ; and so the Vicar was left alone, 
 at the mercy of his predecessor's ghost. At first he bore 
 up bravely, but one Saturday night, while he was sitting up 
 late, and wearily going over his Sunday sermons, the " pad, 
 pad " of the measured tread struck so painfully upon his 
 nerves that he could bear it no longer. He started up, 
 opened the window, jumped out, and made the best of his 
 way to the nearest farm, where lived his churchwarden, an 
 honest Dartmoor farmer. 
 
 There the Vicar found a kind welcome; and when he 
 told his tale, in a hesitating sort of way, owning his dislike 
 to solitude and apologising for the weakness of nerves which 
 made him fancy he heard the sounds so often described to 
 him, his host broke in with a declaration of his belief that 
 the old Vicar was at the bottom of it, just because of the 
 alterations in the house he had lived in so many years. 
 ** He never could abide changes," pursued the farmer, " but 
 he's had his day, and you should have yours now. He 
 must be laid, that's certain ; and if you'll go away next 
 week to your missis and the young ladies, I'll see to it" 
 
 And see to it he did, A jury of seven parsons was con- 
 voked, and each sat for half-an-hour with a candle in his 
 hand, and it burned out its time with each, showing plainly 
 that none of them could lay the ghost. Nor was this any 
 wonder, for were they not all old acquaintances of his, so 
 that he knew all their tricks ? The spirit could afford to 
 defy them ; it was not worth his while to blow their candles 
 out. But the seventh parson was a stranger, and a scholar 
 fresh from Oxford. In his hand the light went out at once. 
 He was clearly the man to lay the ghost, and he did not 
 shrink from his task; he laid it at once, and in a beer 
 barrel. 
 
AND FAIRY TALES, 215 
 
 But now a fresh difficulty arose. What was to be done 
 with the beer-barrel and its mysterious tenant? Where 
 could it be placed secure from the touch of any curious 
 hand, which might be tempted to broach the barrel, and set 
 free the ghost ? Nothing occurred to the assembled com- 
 pany but to roll the thing into one corner, and send for the 
 mason to inclose it with stones and mortar. This done, the 
 room looked very odd with one corner cut off. Uniformity 
 would be attained if the other three were filled up as well ; 
 and besides, the ghost would be safer if no one knew the 
 very spot in which he was reposing. So the other corners 
 were blocked up, and with success. What matters it if the 
 room be smaller ! — the parsonage has never been haunted 
 since. 
 
 There lived in the town of , in that part of England 
 
 which lies towards the borders of Wales, a very curious 
 simple kind of a man ; though, simple as he seemed, people 
 all said there was more cunning in him than there appeared 
 to be, and that he knew a good deal that other people did 
 not know. Now there was in the same town a certain large 
 and very old house, and one of the rooms was haunted by 
 a ghost, which not only hindered people from making any 
 use of that room, but was also very troublesome to them in 
 other ways. The man whom I have just mentioned was 
 reported to be very clever at dealing with ghosts, and the 
 proprietor of the haunted house, by the advice of some of 
 his friends, sent for him and asked him if he would under- 
 take to make the ghost quit the house. Tommy, for that 
 was the name the man generally went by, agreed to do this, 
 on condition that he should have with him in the room 
 ^ Folk- Lore Record^ vol. ii. p. 176. 
 
2t6 ENGLISH POLK AND FAIRY TALES. 
 
 which the ghost frequented three things — an empty bottle, 
 a bottle of brandy with a tumbler, and a pitcher of water. 
 So Tommy had a fine fire in the room, for it was a cold 
 winter evening, and he locked the door safely in the inside, 
 and sat down to pass the night drinking brandy and water. 
 Well, just as the clock struck twelve, he was roused by a 
 slight noise, and looking up, lo! there was the ghost 
 standing before him. Says the ghost: "Well, Tommy, 
 how are ye?" "Pretty well, thank ye," says he; "but 
 pray how did ye know my name?" "Oh, very well 
 indeed," said the ghost. "And how did ye get in?" 
 "Oh, very easily." "Not through the door, I'm sure." 
 "No, not at all, but through the keyhole." "D'ye say so? 
 None of your tricks upon me ; I won't believe you came 
 through the keyhole." "Won't ye? but I did." "I'm 
 sure you can't get through the keyhole." "I'm sure I 
 can." " Well, then," says Tommy, pointing to the empty 
 bottle, which he pretended to have emptied, " if you can 
 come through the keyhole you can get into this bottle, but 
 I won't believe you can do either." Now the ghost began 
 to be very angry that Tommy should doubt his powers of 
 getting into the bottle, so he asserted most confidently that 
 the thing was easy to be done. "No," said Tommy, "I 
 won't believe it till I see you get in." "Here goes then," 
 said the ghost, and sure enough into the bottle he went, 
 and Tommy corked him up quite tight, so that he could 
 not get out, and he took the bottle to the bridge where the 
 river was wide and deep, and he threw the bottle exactly 
 over the keystone of the middle arch into the river, and 
 the ghost was never heard of after. 
 
THE ROARING BULL O' BAGBURY.i 
 
 There was a very bad man lived at Bagbury Farm, and 
 when he died it was said that he had never done but two 
 good things in his life, and the one was to give a waistcoat 
 to a poor old man, and the other was to give a piece of 
 bread and cheese to a poor boy, and when this man died he 
 made a sort of confession of this. But when he was dead 
 his ghost would not rest, and he would get in the buildings 
 in the shape of a bull, and roar till the boards and the 
 shutters and the tiles would fly off the building, and it was 
 impossible for any one to live near him. He never came 
 till about nine or ten at night, but he got so rude at last 
 that he would come about seven or eight at night, and he 
 was so troublesome that they sent for twelve parsons to lay 
 him. And the parsons came, and they got him under, but 
 they could not lay him ; but they got him, in the shape of 
 a bull all the time, up into Hyssington Church. And when 
 they got him into the church, they all had candles, and one 
 old blind parson, who knowed him, and knowed what a 
 rush he would make, he carried his candle in his top boot. 
 And he made a great rush, and all the candles went out, all 
 but the blind parson's, and he said: "You light your 
 candles by mine." And while they were in the church, 
 before they laid him, the bull made such a burst that he 
 cracked the wall of the church from the top to the bottom, 
 and the crack was left as it was for years, till the church 
 
 ^ Miss C. S. Burne, Shropshire Folk-Lore, p. lo8. 
 
2i8 ENGLISH FOLK AND FAIRY TALES. 
 
 was done up ; it was left on purpose for people to see. I've 
 seen it hundreds of times. Well, they got the bull down 
 at last, into a snuff-box, and he asked them to lay him 
 under Bagbury Bridge, and that every mare that passed 
 over should lose her foal, and every woman her child ; but 
 they would not do this, and they laid him in the Red Sea 
 for a thousand years. 
 
 I remember the old clerk at Hyssington. He was an old 
 man then, sixty years ago, and he told me he could 
 remember the old blind parson well " But long after the 
 ghost had been laid in the Red Say^ folk were always 
 frightened to go over Bagbury Bridge," said John Thomas. 
 " I've bin over it myself many a time with horses, and I 
 always got off the horse and made him go quietly, and went 
 pit-pat, ever so softly, for fear of him hearing me and 
 coming out." 
 
THE WHITE LADY OF BLENKINSOPP.i 
 
 Like almost all the old Northumbrian castles and peels, 
 Blenkinsopp has the reputation of being haunted. A 
 gloomy vault under the castle is said to have buried in it a 
 large chest of gold, hidden in the troublous times : some 
 say by a lady whose spirit cannot rest so long as it is there, 
 and who used formerly to appear — though not, that we have 
 heard, for the last four or five decades — clothed in white 
 from head to foot, and so was known as " The White 
 Lady." 
 
 About the beginning of this century several of the least 
 ruinous apartments in the castle were still occupied by a 
 hind on the estate and some cotters. Indeed, two or three 
 of them continued to be so down to the year 1820 or 
 thereabouts. The visits of the White Lady seem to have 
 been unfrequent latterly, and for some considerable time 
 they had ceased. One night, however, shortly after retiring 
 to rest, the hind and his wife (so the story goes) were 
 alarmed on hearing loud and reiterated screams coming 
 from an adjoining room, in which one of the children, a boy 
 of about eight years of age, had been laid to sleep. On 
 hastily rushing in to see what was the matter, they found 
 the boy sitting trembling on his pillow, terror-struck and 
 bathed in perspiration. " The White Lady ! the White 
 Lady ! " he screamed, as soon as he saw them. " What 
 
 ^ Monthly Chronicle of North- Country Lore and Legend^ March 1888, 
 p. los. 
 
220 ENGLISH FOLK 
 
 lady ? ** cried the astonished parents, looking round the 
 room ; " there is no lady here." " She is gone," replied 
 the boy, " and she looked so angry at me because I would 
 not go with her. She was a fine lady, and she sat down on 
 my bedside and wrung her hands and cried sore. Then 
 she kissed me and asked me to go with her, and she would 
 make me a rich man, as she had buried a large box of gold, 
 many hundred years since, down in the vault; and she 
 would give it to me, as she could not rest so long as it was 
 there. When 1 told her I durst not go, she said she would 
 carry me, and she was lifting me up when I cried out and 
 frightened her away." The hind and his wife, both very 
 sensible people, concluded that the child had been dreaming, 
 and at length succeeded in quieting him and getting him 
 to sleep. But for three successive nights they were disturbed 
 in the same manner, the boy repeating the same story with 
 little variation, so that they were forced to let him sleep in 
 the same apartment with themselves, when the apparition 
 no longer visited him. The eflfect upon the boy's mind, 
 however, was such that nothing ever afterwards would 
 induce him to enter into any part of the old castle alone, 
 even in daylight. 
 
 The legend of the White Lady is not one of those that 
 unsophisticated country people willingly let die; and the 
 belief that treasure lies hidden under the grim old ruin, 
 waiting to be disinterred, is probably still entertained by 
 not a few. Indeed, there is hardly a place of the kind, 
 either in this country or any other, regarding which some 
 such impression does not exist. (See Layard on the 
 subject.) 
 
 About fifty years since, we are told, a strange lady arrived 
 at the village of Greenhead, and took up her quarters at the 
 inn there. She told the landlady, in confidence, that she 
 
AND FAIRY TALES. 221 
 
 liad had a wonderful dream, to the effect that a large chest 
 of gold lay buried in the vault of Blenkinsopp Castle, and 
 that she was to be the person to find it. She stayed several 
 weeks, awaiting the return of the owner of the property to 
 ask leave to search ; but she either got tired of waiting, or 
 could not obtain permission, and so she went away without 
 accomplishing her purpose, and the hidden treasure, if there 
 be such a thing there, remains for some more fortunate 
 person to bring to the light of day. 
 
 Tradition accounts for the alleged hiding of the gold in 
 the following way : — One of the castellans in the middle 
 ages, named Bryan de Blenkinsopp, familiarly Bryan 
 Blenship, was as avaricious as he was bold, daring, and 
 lawless. He was once heard to say, when taunted with 
 being a fusty old bachelor, that he would never marry until 
 he met with a lady possessed of a chest of gold heavier 
 than ten of his strongest men could carry into his castle ; 
 and fate, it seems, had ordained that he would keep his 
 word. For, going to the wars abroad, whether to the Holy 
 Land to fight against the Saracens, or to Hungary to oppose 
 the Turks, we cannot tell, and staying away several years, 
 he met with a lady in some far country, who came up to 
 his expectations, courted her, married her, and brought her 
 home, together with a chest of gold which it took twelve 
 strong men to lift. Bryan Blenship was now the richest 
 man in the North of England ; but it soon transpired that 
 his riches had not brought him happiness, but the reverse. 
 He and his lady quarrelled continually — a fact which could 
 not long be concealed ; and one day when the unhappy 
 couple had had a more serious difference than usual, Six 
 Bryan was heard to utter threats, in reply to his wife's bitter 
 reproaches, which seemed to indicate that he meant to get 
 rid of her as soon as he could without any more formality 
 
223 ENGLISH FOLK AND FAIRY TALES. 
 
 or fuss than if they had merely been " handfasted," that is, 
 pledged to each other for a year and a day. The lady 
 muttered something in return, which could not be distinctly 
 heard by the servants, and so the affair, for the nonce, 
 seemed to end But a very short time afterwards — possibly 
 the next night — the indignant, ill-used lady got the foreign 
 men-servants who had accompanied her to the castle to take 
 up the precious chest and bury it deep in some secret place 
 out of her miserly husband's reach, where it lies to this day. 
 Accounts differ as to what followed. Some say Sir Bryan 
 disappeared shortly after he discovered his loss ; others say 
 the lady disappeared first ; but it is affirmed that they both 
 disappeared in a mysterious manner, and that neither of 
 them was ever afterwards seen. It was, moreover, sagely 
 hinted that the lady was " something uncanny," — in plain 
 terms, an imp of darkness, sent with her wealth to ensnare 
 Sir Bryan's greedy soul. At any rate folks were sure that 
 she was an infidel, for she never went to church, and used 
 on Sundays to sing hymns to Mahoun, or some other false 
 god, in an unknown tongue in her own room. 
 
THE HAUNTED WIDOWER.^ 
 
 A LABOURING man, very shortly after his wife's death, sent 
 to a servant girl, living at the time in a small shipping port, 
 requesting her to come to the inn to him. The girl went, 
 and over a "ha' pint" she agreed to accept him as her 
 husband. 
 
 All went on pleasantly enough for a time. One evening 
 the man met the girl. He was silent for some time and 
 sorrowful, but at length he told her his wife had come back. 
 
 " What do'st mean ? " asked the girl ; " have 'e seen 
 hur ? " 
 
 " Naw, I han't seed her." 
 
 " Why, how do'st knaw it is her then ? " 
 
 The poor man explained to her, that at night, when in 
 bed, she would come to the side of it, and " flop " his face ; 
 and there was no mistaking her "flop." 
 
 " So you knawed her flop, did 'e ?" asked the girl. 
 
 " Ay, it couldn't be mistook." 
 
 "If she do hunt thee," said the girl, "she'll hunt me; 
 and if she do flop 'e, shell flop me, — so it must be off" 
 atween us." 
 
 The unfortunate flop of the dead wife prevented the man 
 from securing a living one. 
 
 ^ Robert Hunt, Popular Romances of the West of England, ist 
 series, p. 264. 
 
THE GHOST OF ROSEWARNE.1 
 
 "EzEKiEL Grosse, gent, attomey-at-law," bought the 
 lands of Rosewarne from one of the De Rosewarnes, who 
 had become involved in difficulties by endeavouring, 
 without sufficient means, to support the dignity of his 
 family. There is reason for believing that Ezekiel was the 
 legal adviser of this unfortunate Rosewarne, and that he 
 was not over-honest in his transactions with his client 
 However this may be, Ezekiel Grosse had scarcely made 
 Rosewarne his dwelling-place before he was alarmed by 
 noises, at first of an unearthly character, and subsequently, 
 one very dark night, by the appearance of the ghost himself 
 in the form of a worn and aged man. The first appearance 
 was in the park, but he subsequently repeated his visits in 
 the house, but always after dark. Ezekiel Grosse was not a 
 man to be terrified at trifles, and for some time he paid but 
 slight attention to his nocturnal visitor. Howbeit the 
 repetition of visits, and certain mysterious indications on 
 the part of the spectre, became annoying to Ezekiel. One 
 night, when seated in his office examining some deeds, and 
 being rather irritable, having lost an important suit, his 
 visitor approached him, making some strange indications 
 which the lawyer could not understand. Ezekiel suddenly 
 exclaimed, " In the name of God, what wantest thou ? " 
 
 ^ Robert Hunt, Popular Romances of the West of England, ist 
 series, p. 2S6. 
 
ENGLISH FOLK AND FAIR Y TALES. 225 
 
 " To show thee, Ezekiel Grosse, where the gold for which 
 thou longest lies buried." 
 
 No one ever lived upon whom the greed of gold was 
 stronger than on Ezekiel, yet he hesitated now that his 
 spectral friend had spoken so plainly, and trembled in every 
 limb as the ghost slowly dehvered himself in sepulchral 
 tones of this telling speech. 
 
 The lawyer looked fixedly on the spectre ; but he dared 
 not utter a word. He longed to obtain possession of the 
 secret, yet he feared to ask him where he was to find this 
 treasure. The spectre looked as fixedly at the poor 
 trembling lawyer, as if enjoying the sight of his terror. At 
 length, lifting his finger, he beckoned Ezekiel to follow him, 
 turning at the same time to leave the room. Ezekiel was 
 glued to his seat ; he could not exert strength enough to 
 move, although he desired to do so. 
 
 ** Come ! " said the ghost, in a hollow voice. The lawyer 
 was powerless to come. 
 
 " Gold ! " exclaimed the old man, in a whining tone, 
 though in a louder key. 
 
 •' Where ? " gasped Ezekiel 
 
 "Follow me, and I will shew thee," said the ghost. 
 Ezekiel endeavoured to rise ; but it was in vain. 
 
 " I command thee, come ! " almost shrieked the ghost. 
 Ezekiel felt that he was compelled to follow his friend ; and 
 by some supernatural power rather than his own, he followed 
 the spectre out of the room, and through the hall, into the 
 park. 
 
 They passed onward through the night — the ghost gliding 
 before the lawyer, and guiding him by a peculiar phosphor- 
 escent light, which appeared to glow from every part of the 
 form, until they arrived at a little dell, and had reached a 
 small cairn formed of granite boulders. By this the spectre 
 
226 ENGLISH FOLK 
 
 rested ; and when Ezekiel had approached it, and was 
 standing on the other side of the cairn, still trembling, the 
 aged man, looking fixedly in his face, said, in low tones : 
 
 "Ezekiel Grosse, thou longest for gold, as I did. I won 
 the glittering prize, but I could not enjoy it. Heaps of 
 treasure are buried beneath those stones ; it is thine, if thou 
 diggest for it. Win the gold, Ezekiel. Glitter with the 
 wicked ones of the world ; and when thou art the most 
 joyous, I will look in upon thy happiness." The ghost then 
 disappeared, and as soon as Grosse could recover himself 
 from the extreme trepidation — the result of mixed feelings 
 — he looked about him, and finding himself alone, he 
 exclaimed : " Ghost or devil, I will soon prove whether or 
 not thou liest ! " Ezekiel is said to have heard a laugh, 
 echoing between the hills, as he said those words. 
 
 The lawyer noted well the spot ; returned to his house ; 
 pondered on all the circumstances of his case; and 
 eventually resolved to seize the earliest opportunity, when 
 he might do so unobserved, of removing the stones, and 
 examining the ground beneath them. 
 
 A few nights after this Ezekiel went to the little cairn, 
 and by the aid of a crowbar, he soon overturned the stones, 
 and laid the ground bare. He then commenced digging, 
 and had not proceeded far when his spade struck against 
 some other metal. He carefully cleared away the earth, and 
 he then felt — for he could not see, having no light with him 
 — that he had uncovered a metallic urn of some kind. He 
 found it quite impossible to lift it, and he was therefore 
 compelled to cover it up again, and to replace the stones 
 sufficiently to hide it from the observation of any chance 
 wanderer. 
 
 The next night Ezekiel found that this urn, which was of 
 bronze, contained gold coins of a very ancient date. He 
 
AND FAIRY TALES. ' 227 
 
 loaded himself with his treasure, and returned home. From 
 time to time, at night, as Ezekiel found he could do so 
 without exciting the suspicions of his servants, he visited 
 the urn, and thus by degrees removed all the treasure to 
 Rosewarne house There was nothing in the series of 
 circumstances which had surrounded Ezekiel which he 
 could less understand than the fact that the ghost of the 
 old man had left off troubling him from the moment 
 when he had disclosed to him the hiding-place of this 
 treasure. 
 
 The neighbouring gentry could not but observe the rapid 
 improvements which Ezekiel Grosse made in his mansion, 
 his grounds, in his personal appearance, and indeed in 
 everything by which he was surrounded. In a short time 
 he abandoned the law, and led in every respect the life of a 
 country gentleman. He ostentatiously paraded his power 
 to procure all earthly enjoyments, and, in spite of his 
 notoriously bad character, he succeeded in drawing many 
 of the landed proprietors around him. 
 
 Things went well with Ezekiel. The man who could in 
 those days visit London in his own carriage and four was 
 not without a large circle of flatterers. The lawyer who had 
 struggled hard, in the outset of life, to secure wealth, and 
 who did not always employ the most honest means for 
 doing so, now found himself the centre of a circle to whom 
 he could preach honesty, and receive from them expressions 
 of the admiration in which the world holds the possessor 
 of gold. His old tricks were forgotten, and he was put in 
 places of honour. This state of things continued for some 
 time; indeed, Grosse's entertainments became more and 
 more splendid, and his revels more and more seductive to 
 those he admitted to share them with him. The Lord of 
 Rosewarne was the Lord of the West. To him every one 
 
«a8 ENGLISH FOLK 
 
 bowed the knee : he walked the Earth as the proud possessor 
 of a large share of the planet 
 
 It was Christmas-eve, and a large gathering there was at 
 Rosewame. In the hall the ladies and gentlemen were in 
 the full enjoyment of the dance, and in the kitchen all the 
 tenantry and the servants were emulating their superiors. 
 Everything went joyously; and when mirth was in full 
 swing, and Ezekiel felt to the full the influence of wealth, it 
 appeared as if in one moment the chill of death had fallen 
 over every one. The dancers paused, and looked one at 
 another, each one struck with the other's paleness; and 
 there, in the middle of the hall, every one saw a strange old 
 man looking angrily, but in silence, at Ezekiel Grosse, who 
 was fixed in terror, blank as a statue. 
 
 No one had seen this old man enter the hall, yet there he 
 was in the midst of them. It was but for a minute, and he 
 was gone. Ezekiel, as if a frozen torrent of water had 
 thawed in an instant, roared with impetuous laughter. 
 
 " What do you think of that for a Christmas play ? 
 There was an old Father Christmas for you ! Ha, ha, ha, 
 ha ! How frightened you all look ! Butler, order the men 
 to hand round the spiced wines ! On with the dancing, my 
 friends ! It was only a trick, ay, and a clever one, which I 
 have put upon you. On with your dancing, my friends 1 " 
 
 Notwithstanding his boisterous attempts to restore the 
 spirit of the evening, Ezekiel could not succeed. There 
 was an influence stronger than any which he could com- 
 mand ; and one by one, framing sundry excuses, his guests 
 took their departure, every one of them satisfied that all 
 was not right at Rosewame. 
 
 From that Christmas-eve Grosse was a changed man. 
 He tried to be his former self; but it was in vain. Again 
 and again he called his gay companions around him ; but at 
 
AND FAIRY TALES. 229 
 
 every feast there appeared one more than was desired. An 
 aged man — weird beyond measure — took his place at the 
 table in the middle of the feast ; and although he spoke not, 
 he exerted a miraculous power over all. No one dared to 
 move; no one ventured to speak. Occasionally Ezekiel 
 assumed an appearance of courage, which he felt not; 
 rallied his guests, and made sundry excuses for the presence 
 of his aged friend, whom he represented as having a mental 
 infirmity, as being deaf and dumb. On all such occasions 
 the old man rose from the table, and, looking at the host, 
 laughed a demoniac laugh of joy, and departed as quietly as 
 he came. 
 
 The natural consequence of this was that Ezekiel Grosse's 
 friends fell away from him, and he became a lonely man, 
 amidst his vast possessions — his only companion being his 
 faithful clerk, John Call. 
 
 The persecuting presence of the spectre became more 
 and more constant ; and wherever the poor lawyer went, 
 there was the aged man at his side. From being one of the 
 finest men in the county, he became a miserably attenuated 
 and bowed old man. Misery was stamped on every feature 
 — terror was indicated in every movement. At length he 
 appears to have besought his ghostly attendant to free him 
 of his presence. It was long before the ghost would listen 
 to any terms; but when Ezekiel at length agreed to sur- 
 render the whole of his wealth to any one whom the spectre 
 might indicate, he obtained a promise that upon this being 
 carried out, in a perfectly legal manner, in favour of John 
 Call, that he should no longer be haunted. 
 
 This was, after numerous struggles on the part of Ezekiel 
 to retain his property, or at least some portion of it, legally 
 settled, and John Call became possessor of Rosewarne and 
 the adioining lands. Grosse was then informed that this 
 
 17 
 
230 ENGLISH FOLK AND FAIRY TALES, 
 
 evil spirit was one of the ancestors of the Rosewarne, from 
 whom by his fraudulent dealings he obtained the place, and 
 that he was allowed to visit the earth again for the purpose 
 of inflicting the most condign punishment on the avaricious 
 lawyer. His avarice had been gratified, his pride had been 
 pampered to the highest ; and then he was made a pitiful 
 spectacle, at whom all men pointed, and no one pitied. He 
 lived on in misery, but it was for a short time. He was 
 found dead; and the country people ever said that his 
 death was a violent one ; they spoke of marks on his body, 
 and some even asserted that the spectre of De Rosewarne 
 was seen rejoicing amidst a crowd of devils, as they bore 
 the spirit of Ezekiel over Carn Brea. 
 Hals thus quaintly tells this story : — 
 
 " Roswame, in this parish, gave to its owner the name of De Ros- 
 warne, one of which tribe sold those lands, temp. James I., to Ezekiel 
 Grosse, gent. , attorney-at-law, who made it his dwelling, and in this 
 place got a great estate by the inferior practice of the law ; but much 
 more, as tradition saith, by means of a spirit or apparition that 
 haunted him in this place, till he spake to it (for it is notable that sort 
 of things called apparitions are such proud gentry, that they never 
 speak first) ; whereupon it discovered to him where much treasure lay 
 hid in this mansion, which, according to the (honest) ghost's direction, 
 he found, to his great enriching. After which, this phantasm or 
 spectrum became so troublesome and direful to him, day and night, 
 that it forced him to forsake this place (as rich, it seems, as this devil 
 could make him), and to quit his claim thereto, by giving or selling it 
 to his clerk, John Call ; whose son, John Call, gent. , sold it again to 
 Robert Hooker, gent., attorney-at-law, now in possession thereof. 
 The arms of Call were, in a field three trumpets — in allusion to the 
 name in English; but in Cornish -British, 'call,' 'cal,' signifies any 
 hard, flinty, or obdurate matter or thing, and 'hirgorue' is a trumpet." 
 
THE LADY WITH THE LANTERN.^ 
 
 The night was dark and the wind high. The heavy waves 
 rolled round the point of " the Island " into St. Ives Bay, 
 as Atlantic waves only can roll. Everything bespoke a 
 storm of no ordinary character. There were no ships in 
 the bay — not a fishing-boat was afloat The few small 
 trading vessels had run into Hayle for shelter, or had 
 nestled themselves within that very unquiet resting-place, 
 St. Ives pier. The fishing-boats were all high and dry on 
 the sands. 
 
 Moving over the rocks which run out into the sea from 
 the eastern side of " the Island " was seen a light. It 
 passed over the most rugged ridges, formed by the intrusive 
 Greenstone masses, and over the sharp edges of the 
 upturned slate-rocks, with apparent ease. Forth and back 
 — to and from — wandered the light. 
 
 " Ha ! " said an old sailor with a sigh, as he looked out 
 over the sea ; " a sad night ! a sad night ! The Lady and 
 the Lantern is out." 
 
 " The Lady and the lantern," repeated 1 ; " what do 
 you mean ? " 
 
 " The light out yonder " 
 
 " Is from the lantern of some fisherman looking for 
 something he has lost," interrupted I. 
 
 "Never a fisherman nor a 'salt' either would venture 
 there to-night," said the sailor. 
 
 " What is it, then ? " I curiously inquired. 
 
 ^ Robert Hunt, Popular Romances of the West of England, 2nd series, 
 p. 143- 
 
232 ENGLISH FOLK 
 
 " Ha'ast never heard of the Lady and the Lantern ? " 
 asked a woman who was standing by. 
 
 "Never." 
 
 Without any preface, she began at once to enh'ghten me. 
 I am compelled, however, to reduce her rambling story to 
 something like order, and to make her long-drawn tale as 
 concise as possible. 
 
 In the year there were many wrecks around the 
 
 coast It was a melancholy time. For more than a month 
 there had been a succession of storms, each one more 
 severe than the preceding one. At length, one evening, 
 just about dusk, a large ship came suddenly out of the mist. 
 Her position, it was at once discovered, equally by those on 
 board and by the people on the shore, was perilous beyond 
 hope. The sailors, as soon as they saw how near they 
 were to the shore, made every effort to save the ship, and 
 then to prepare for saving themselves. The tempest raged 
 with such fury from the west that the ship parted her 
 anchors at the moment her strain came upon them, and she 
 swung round — her only sail flying into ribbons in the gale 
 — rushing, as it were, eagerly upon her fate. Presently she 
 struck violently upon a sunken rock, and her masts went by 
 the board, the waves sweeping over her, and clearing her 
 decks. Many perished at once, and, as each successive 
 wave urged her onward, others of the hardy and daring 
 seamen were swept into the angry sea. 
 
 Notwithstanding the severity of the storm, a boat was 
 manned by the St. Ives fishermen, and launched from 
 within the pier. Their perfect knowledge of their work 
 enabled them, by the efforts of willing hearts, anxiously 
 desiring to succour the distressed, to round the pier-head, 
 and to row towards the ship. 
 
 These fishermen brought their boat near to the ship. It 
 
AND FAIRY TALES, 233 
 
 was impossible to get close to her, and they called to the 
 sailors on board to throw them ropes. This they were 
 enabled to do, and some two or three of the sailors lowered 
 themselves by their aid, and were hauled into the boat. 
 
 Then a group appeared on the deck, surrounding and 
 supporting a lady, who held a child in her arms. They 
 were imploring her to give her charge into the strong arms 
 of a man ere they endeavoured to pass her from the ship to 
 the boat. 
 
 The lady could not be prevailed on to part with the 
 infant. The ship was fast breaking up, not a moment could 
 be lost. So the lady, holding her child, was lowered into 
 the sea, and eagerly the fishermen drew her through the 
 waves towards the boat. 
 
 In her passage the lady had fainted, and she was taken 
 into the boat without the infant. The child had fallen from 
 her arms, and was lost in the boiling waters. 
 
 Many of the crew were saved by these adventurous men, 
 and taken safely into St. Ives. Before morning the shore 
 was strewed with fragments of wreck, and the mighty ship 
 had disappeared. 
 
 Life returned to the lady ; but, finding that her child was 
 gone, it returned without hope, and she speedily closed her 
 eyes in death. In the churchyard they buried her; but, 
 shortly after her burial, a lady was seen to pass over the 
 wall of the churchyard, on to the beach, and walk towards 
 the Island. There she spent hours amidst the rocks, 
 looking for her child, and, not finding it, she would sigh 
 deeply and return to her grave. When the nights were 
 tempestuous or very dark, she carried a lantern ; but on 
 fine nights she made her search without a light The I^dy 
 and the Lantern have ever been regarded as predictors of 
 disaster on this shore. 
 
SPECTRE-D0GS.1 
 
 Neither Brand in his Popular Antiquities^ nor Sir Walter 
 Scott in his Witchcraft and Demonology, mentions spectre- 
 dogs as a peculiar class of apparitions, yet they seem to 
 occupy a distinct branch of English mythology. They are 
 supposed to exist in one form or another in almost every 
 county, and few kinds of superstition have more strongly 
 influenced the credulous mind. To have the " black dog 
 on the back " has become a general phrase, though perhaps 
 few who use it have an idea of its origin. The following 
 anecdotes about spectre-dogs will illustrate this phrase, and 
 show how generally this branch of superstition is received. 
 
 According to popular psychology, the subject may be 
 divided into three parts : i. Black dogs, which are really 
 fiends that have assumed the form of dogs. 2. The spirits 
 of evil persons, who, as part of their punishment, have been 
 transformed into the appearance of dogs. 3. Evil spirits, 
 that, to mimic the sports of men, or to hunt their souls, have 
 assumed the form and habits of hounds. We will begin 
 with the black dog apparition. 
 
 In almost every county there is a popular belief in a 
 spectral dog, which, although slightly varying in appearance 
 in different parts, always bears the same general character- 
 istics. It is described as large, shaggy, and black, with 
 long ears and tail. It does not belong to any species of 
 living dogs, but is severally said to resemble a hound, a 
 
 ^ Chambers's Book 0/ Davs, vol. iL p. 433. 
 
ENGLISH FOLK AND FAIRY TALES. 235 
 
 setter, a terrier, or a shepherd-dog, though often larger than 
 a Newfoundland. It bears different names, but is always 
 alike supposed to be an evil spirit, haunting places where 
 evil deeds have been done, or where some calamity may be 
 expected. In the Isle of Man it is called the Mauthe Doog^ 
 and, according to tradition, was accustomed to haunt Peel 
 Castle, where it was seen in every room, but especially in 
 the guard-chamber. Here, as soon as candles were lighted, 
 it used to go and lie down before the fire, in presence of 
 the soldiers, who became so accustomed to its appearance, 
 that they lost much of the awe which they first felt at its 
 presence. But knowing its malicious character, they never 
 ventured to molest it, till one of them, in a drunken fit, 
 swore that " he would try whether it were dog or devil ! " 
 He made his trial, and was instantly sobered, but rendered 
 speechless. He lived only three days afterwards, and then 
 " died in agonies more than is common in a natural death." 
 " I heard this attested," says Mr. Waldron, "by several, but 
 especially by an old soldier, who assured me he had seen it 
 oftener than he had then hairs on his head." Sir Walter 
 Scott, in his Lay of the Last Minstrel^ thus alludes to this 
 tradition : 
 
 " For he was speechless, ghastly, wan, 
 Like him, of whom the story ran, 
 Who spoke the spectre-hound in Man." 
 
 A similar story is related of a man who lived at a village 
 near Aylesbury, in Buckinghamshire. This man was 
 accustomed to go every morning and night to milk his cows 
 in a field, which was some distance from the village. To 
 shorten his walk, he often crossed over a neighbour's field, 
 and passed through a gap in the hedge ; but one night, on 
 approaching the gap, he found it occupied by a large, black, 
 
236 ENGLISH FOLK 
 
 fierce-looking dog. He paused to examine the animal, and 
 as he looked at him his fiery eyes grew larger and fiercer, 
 and he had altogether such a fiend-like and " unkid " 
 appearance, that he doubted whether he were "a dog or 
 the bad spirit" Whichever he was, he thought he would 
 be no pleasant antagonist to encounter. So he turned aside, 
 and passed through a gate at the end of the field. Night 
 after night he found the same dog in the gap, and turned 
 aside in the same manner. One night, having fallen in 
 with a companion, he returned homeward with him across 
 his neighbour's field, being determined, if he found the dog 
 in the gap, to make an attack upon him, and drive him 
 away. On reaching the gap there stood the dog looking 
 even fiercer and bigger than ever. But the milkman, wish- 
 ing to appear valiant before his companion, put down his 
 milk-pails, which were suspended from a yoke across his 
 shoulders, and attempting to speak very bravely, thoug'a 
 trembling all over, he exclaimed : " Now, you black fiend, 
 I'll try what ye're made of! " He raised his yoke in both 
 his hands, and struck at the dog with all his might. The 
 dog vanished, and the milkman fell senseless to the ground 
 He was carried home alive, but remained speechless and 
 paralytic to the end of his days. 
 
 A certain spot near the writer's residence is said to be 
 haunted at midnight by "the black dog." Once, at the 
 awful hour of midnight, he happened to pass the dreaded 
 spot, and, sure enough, he met the black dog apparition. 
 It was a light summer's night, and as he approached the 
 awful apparition, he soon saw it was far too substantial " to 
 try what it was made of." He knew it to be a fine black 
 dog, half Newfoundland and retriever, belonging to a game- 
 keeper, wlio, doubtless, was near at hand watching his 
 master's preserves. It is no uncommon manoeuvre for 
 
AND FAIR Y TALES. 237 
 
 poachers and such characters to give certain spots the 
 reputatioii of being haunted. 
 
 In the adjoining county of Hertford the same supersti- 
 tion prevails, and the black dog apparition is still a dreaded 
 bogie. Within the parish of Tring, but about three miles 
 from the town, a poor old woman was, in 1751, drowned 
 for suspected witchcraft. A chimney-sweep, who was the 
 principal perpetrator of this atrocious deed, was hanged 
 and gibbeted near the place where the murder was effected. 
 While the gibbet stood, and long after it had disappeared, 
 the spot was haunted by a black dog. The writer was told 
 by the village schoolmaster, who had been '* abroad," that 
 he himself had seen this diabolical dog. " 1 was returning 
 home," said he, " late at night in a gig with the person who 
 was driving. When we came near the spot where a portion 
 of the gibbet had lately stood, we saw on the bank of the 
 roadside, along which a ditch or narrow brook runs, a 
 flame of fire as large as a man's hat. ' What's that ? ' I 
 exclaimed. ' Hush ! ' said my companion, all in a 
 tremble \ and, suddenly pulling in his horse, made a dead 
 stop. I then saw an immense black dog lying on the road 
 just in front of our horse, which also appeared trembling 
 with fright. The dog was the strangest looking creature I 
 ever beheld. He was as big as a Newfoundland, but very 
 gaunt, shaggy, with long ears and tail, eyes like balls of fire, 
 and large, long teeth, for he opened his mouth and seemed 
 to grin at us. He looked more like a fiend than a dog, and 
 I trembled as much as my companion. In a few minutes 
 the dog disappeared, seeming to vanish like a shadow, or to 
 sink into the earth, and we drove on over the spot where he 
 had lain." The same canine apparition is occasionally still 
 witnessed at the same place or near it. 
 
 In Norfolk, and in some pans of Cambridgeshire, the 
 
238 ENGLISH FOLK 
 
 same kind of apparition is well known to the peasantry 
 by the name of "Shuck," the provincial word for shag. 
 Here he is said chiefly to haunt churchyards, but other lone- 
 some places are not secure from his visitations. Thus a 
 dreary lane, in the parish of Overstrand, is called, from his 
 frequent visits there, Shuck's Lane. The spot on which he 
 has been seen, if examined soon after his disappearance, is 
 found to be scorched, and strongly impregnated with the 
 smell of brimstone ! 
 
 In some districts in the county of Lancaster, this spectre- 
 dog bears the names of "Trash" and "Skriker." Its 
 general appearance is the same as in other parts, but its 
 habits, and the object of its visits, seem somewhat different. 
 It does not haunt particular spots, but appears to certain 
 persons to warn them of the speedy death of some relation 
 or intimate friend. Occasionally, however, it gives its 
 warning, not by its appearance, but only by uttering a 
 peculiar screech, from whence it is called, in the local 
 dialect, Skriker. Its name, Trash, is applied to it because 
 the noise made by its feet is supposed to resemble that of 
 a person walking with heavy shoes along a miry, sloppy 
 road. If followed, it retreats, but always with its eyes front- 
 ing the pursuer, and either sinks into the earth with a 
 frightful shriek, or, if the pursuer averts his eyes from it for 
 a moment, it disappears he knows not how. If struck at 
 with a stick or weapon, it keeps its ground, but, to the 
 horror of the striker, his weapon passes as harmlessly 
 through it as if it were a mere shadow. ^ 
 
 Lyme-Regis, in Dorsetshire, has a famous story about one 
 
 of these canine apparitions. About a mile from the town 
 
 stands a farmhouse, which once formed part of an old 
 
 mansion that was demolished in the parliamentary wars, 
 
 ^ Notes and Qturus. 
 
AND FAIRY TALES. «39 
 
 except the small portion still existing. The sitting-room 
 now used by the farmer, and also by his predecessors for 
 a century or two, retains the large old-fashioned fireplace, 
 with a fixed seat on each side under the capacious chimney. 
 Many years ago, when the then master of the house, as his 
 custom was after the daily toils were over, used to settle 
 himself on one of these snug seats in the chimney corner, a 
 large black dog as regularly took possession of the opposite 
 one. This dog in all essentials resembled the spectre-dog 
 already described. For many nights, weeks, and months 
 this mysterious visitor, sitting vis-a-vis to the farmer, cast 
 a gloom over his evening enjoyment. At length, as he 
 received no harm from his companion, and became 
 accustomed to his appearance, he began to look on him as 
 one of the family circle. His neighbours, however, often 
 advised him to drive away the fiend-like intruder ; but the 
 farmer, not relishing a contest with him, jestingly replied : 
 " Why should I ? He costs me nothing — he eats nothing, 
 he drinks nothing, he interferes with no one. He is the 
 quietest and frugalest creature in the house." 
 
 One night, however, the farmer, having been drinking too 
 freely with a neighbour, and excited by his taunts about the 
 black dog to an unusual degree of irritation, was determined 
 his courage should no more be called in question. Return- 
 ing home in a rage, he no sooner saw the dog on his usual 
 seat, than, seizing the poker, he rushed with it towards his 
 mysterious companion. The dog, perceiving his intention, 
 sprang from its seat, and ran upstairs, followed by the 
 infuriated farmer. The dog fled into an attic at the top of 
 the house, and just as the farmer entered the same room, he 
 saw it spring from the floor, and disappear through the 
 ceiling. Enraged at being thus foiled, he struck with the 
 poker the ceiling where the dog had passed through, and 
 
240 ENGLISH FOLK 
 
 down fell a small old-fashioned box, which, on being 
 opened, was found to contain a large sum in gold and silver 
 coins of Charles I.'s reign. The dog was never more seen 
 within doors, but to the present day continues at midnight 
 to haunt a lane which leads to this house, and which has 
 long borne the name of " Dog Lane," while a small inn by 
 the roadside still invites the passing stranger by the ominous 
 sign of "The Black Dog," portrayed in all his spectral 
 frightfulness. So late as the year 1856, a respectable 
 intelligent woman told the writer that she herself had seen 
 the dog-ghost. " As I was returning to Lyme," said she, 
 "one night with my husband down Dog Lane, as we 
 reached about the middle of it, I saw an animal about the 
 size of a dog meeting us. ' What's that ? ' I said to my 
 husband. ' AVhat ? ' said he, ' I see nothing.' I was so 
 frightened 1 could say no more then, for the animal was 
 within two or three yards of us, and had become as large as 
 a young calf, but had the appearance of a black shaggy dog 
 with fiery eyes, just hke the description I had heard of the 
 'black dog.' He passed close by me, and made the air 
 cold and dank as he passed along. Though I was 
 afraid to speak, I could not help turning round to 
 look after him, and I saw him growing bigger and 
 bigger as he went along, till he was as high as the trees 
 by the roadside, and then seeming to swell into a large 
 cloud, he vanished in the air. As soon as I could speak, I 
 asked my husband to look at his watch, and it was then five 
 minutes past twelve. My husband said he saw nothing but 
 a vapour or fog coming up from the sea." A" case of this 
 kind shows how even a sensible person may become the 
 victim of self-delusion J for in all practical matters this 
 woman was remarkably sober-minded, intelligent, and 
 iudicious ; and well educated for a person of her calling — 
 
AND FAIRY TALES. »4i 
 
 that of sick-nurse, the duties of which she discharged in the 
 writer's house for. several weeks to his fullest satisfaction, 
 showing no symptoms of nervousness or timidity. 
 
 The foregoing examples belong to the class of fiends who 
 have assumed the appearance of dogs. We will now give a 
 few instances of human spirits that, as a punishment, have 
 been transformed into similar apparitions. 
 
 Lady Howard, a Devonshire notable of the time of 
 James I., was remarkable for her beauty, her wealth, her 
 talents, and accomplishments. But she had many bad 
 qualities. Amongst others, she was unnaturally cruel to 
 her only daughter, and had a sad knack of getting rid of 
 her husbands, having been married no less than four times. 
 At last she died herself, and, for her misdemeanours while 
 living, her spirit was transformed into a hound, and com- 
 pelled to run every night, between midnight and cock- 
 crowing, from the gateway of Fitz-ford, her former residence, 
 to Oakhampton Park, and bring back to the place from 
 whence she started a single blade of grass in her mouth; 
 and this penance she is doomed to continue till every blade 
 of grass is removed from the park, which she will not be 
 able to effect till the end of the world. How these particu- 
 lars were communicated to our fellow-living mortals we are 
 not informed, and we dare not venture a conjecture. Our 
 rustic psychologists have been rather more explicit in the 
 following story : — 
 
 There once lived in the hamlet of Dean Combe, Devon, 
 a weaver of great fame and skill After long prosperity he 
 died and was buried But the next day he appeared sitting 
 at the loom in his chamber, working as diligently as when 
 he was alive. His sons applied to the vicar, who accord- 
 ingly went to the foot of the stairs, and heard the noise of 
 the weaver's shuttle in the room above. "Knowles," he 
 
242 ENGLISH FOLK 
 
 cried, "come down ; this is no place for thee." " I will," 
 replied the weaver, " as soon as I have worked out my 
 quill" (the quill is the shuttle full of wool). "Nay," said 
 the vicar, "thou hast been long enough at thy work; come 
 down at once." So when the spirit came down the vicar 
 took a handful of earth from the churchyard and threw it in 
 its face. And in a moment it became a black hound. 
 " Follow me," said the vicar, and it followed him to the 
 gate of the wood. And when they came there, " it seemed 
 as if all the trees 'vn. the wood were coming together, so 
 great was the wind.*' Then the vicar took a nutshell with 
 a hole in it, and led the hound to the pool below the water- 
 fall. "Take this shell," said he, "and when thou shalt 
 have dipped out the pool with it, thou mayest rest — not 
 before ! " And at midday and at midnight the hound may 
 still be seen at its work.^ It is difficult to understand why 
 the industrious weaver was consigned to such a hopeless 
 doom. Many spectral dogs, believed to be the souls of 
 wicked persons, are said to haunt the sides of rivers and 
 pools, and sometimes their yelping is so dreadful, that all 
 who hear thera lose their senses.^ 
 
 Besides such apparitions of solitary dogs, whole packs of 
 spectral hounds are said to be occasionally heard and seen 
 in full cry in various parts of England and Wales, but 
 chiefly in mountainous districts. They are everywhere 
 described much in the same way, but with different names. 
 In the north they are called "Gabriel's Hounds;" in 
 Devon, the "Wisk," "Yesk," or "Heath Hounds;" in 
 Wales, "Cwn Annwn," or "Cwn Wybir;" and in Corn- 
 wall, the " Devil and his Dandy-dogs." But few have ever 
 imagined that they have seen these hounds, though popular 
 
 ^ Notes and Queries ^ vol. ii. p. 515. 
 * 2bid.t vol. i. p. 295. 
 
AND FAIRY TALES. 243 
 
 superstition has described them as black, with fiery eyes 
 and teeth, and sprinkled all over with blood. Generally, 
 they are only heard, and seem to be passing swiftly along in 
 the air, as if in hot pursuit of their prey ; and though not 
 very high up, yet they cannot be seen, because they 
 generally choose cloudy nights. Their yelping is said to 
 be sometimes as loud as the note of a bloodhound, but 
 sharper and more terrific. Why they have anywhere 
 received the name of Gabriel's hounds appears unaccount- 
 able, for they are always supposed to be evil spirits hunting 
 the souls of the dead, or, by their diabolical yelping, to 
 betoken the speedy death of some person. Thus Mr. 
 Holland, of Sheffield, describes in the following sonnet the 
 superstition as held in Yorkshire : — 
 
 ' * Oft have I heard my honoured mother say 
 How she hath listened to the Gabriel Hounds ; 
 Those strange unearthly and mysterious sounds 
 Which on the ear through murkiest darkness fell ; 
 And how, entranced by superstitious spell, 
 The trembling villager not seldom heard, 
 In the quaint notes of the nocturnal bird 
 Of death premonished, some sick neighbour's knell. 
 I, too, remember once, at midnight dark, 
 How these sky-yelpers startled me, and stirred 
 My fancy so, I could have then averred 
 A mimic pack of beagles low did bark ! 
 Nor wondered I that rustic fear should trace 
 A spectral huntsman doomed to that long moonless chase." 
 
 Wordsworth, alluding to another form of this superstition, 
 similar to the German story of the Wild Huntsman, thus 
 
 writes : — 
 
 " He oftentimes will start, 
 For overhead are sweeping Gabriel's Hounds, 
 
 Doomed, with their impious lord, the flying hart 
 To chase for ever through aerial grounds. " 
 
244 ENGLISH FOLK AND FAIR Y TALES. 
 
 Many wild and amusing stories are told respecting these 
 aerial hounds, especially in the secluded districts of Devon 
 and Cornwall. The following is a specimen : — A herdsman 
 was journeying homeward across the moors of Cornwall one 
 windy night when he heard at a distance the baying of 
 hounds, which he was not long in recognising to be the 
 dismal yelp of the Devil's Dandy-dogs. He was three or 
 four miles distant from his home ; and, much terrified, he 
 hurried onward as fast as the treacherous nature of the soil 
 and uncertainty of the path would allow ; but the melan- 
 choly yelping of the hounds and the fiendish shout of the 
 hunter came nearer and nearer. After a long run they 
 appeared so close upon him that he could not help turning 
 round to look at them. He was horror-struck, for he could 
 distinctly see the hunter and his dogs. The huntsman was 
 terrible to behold. He was black, had large fiery eyes, 
 horns, a tail, and carried in his clawy-hand a long hunting- 
 pole. The dogs, a numerous pack, blackened the ground 
 as far as it could be seen, each snorting fire and yelping in 
 the most frightful tone. What was the poor rustic to do ? 
 No cottage was near, no rock, no tree to shelter him — 
 nothing remained but to abandon himself to the fury of 
 these hell-hounds. Suddenly a happy thought flashed into 
 his mind. He had been told that no evil spirit can resist 
 the power of prayer. He fell on his knees, and at the first 
 holy words he uttered the hounds stood still, but yelped 
 more dismally than ever ; and the huntsman shouted, *' Bo 
 Shrove ! " which " means," says the narrator, " in the old 
 language, T^e boy prays P^ The black huntsman then 
 drew off his dandy-dogs, and the poor herdsman hastened 
 home as fast as his trembling frame permitted.^ 
 ^ Notes and Queries, 
 
BILLY B 'S ADVENTURE.* 
 
 " You see, sir, as how I'd been a clock-dressing at Gur- 
 ston (Grassington), and I'd staid rather lat, and maybe git- 
 ten a li'le sup o' spirit; but I war far from being drunk, 
 and knowed everything that passed. It war about eleven 
 o'clock when I left, and it war at back end o' t' year, and a 
 most admirable (beautiful) neet it war. The moon war 
 varra breet, and I nivver seed Kylstone-fell plainer in a' my 
 life. Now, you see, sir, I war passin' down t' mill loine, and 
 I heerd summut come past me — brush, brush, brush, wi' 
 chains rattUng a' the while, but I seed nothing ; and thowt 
 I to mysel, now this is a most mortal queer thing. And I 
 then stuid still, and luik'd about me ; but I seed nothing at 
 aw, nobbut the two stane wa's on each o' t* mill loine. Then 
 I heerd again this brush, brush, brush, wi' the chains ; for 
 you see, sir, when I stuid still it stopped, and then, thowt I, 
 this mun be a Bargest, that sae much is said about ; and I 
 hurried on towards t' wood brig ; for they say as how this 
 Bargest cannot cross a watter; but Lord, sir, when I gat 
 o'er t' brig, I heerd this same thing again ; so it mud either 
 hev crossed t' watter, or have gam round by /' spring heed 
 (about thirty miles) ! And then I becam a valliant man, 
 for I war a bit freekn'd afore : and, thinks I, I'll turn and 
 hev a peep at this thing ; so I went up Greet Bank toward? 
 Linton, and heerd this brush, brush, brush, wi' the chains a* 
 
 ^ Robert Hunt, Popular Romances of the West of England^ 1st series, 
 p. 315, quoting from Hone's Every-day Book. 
 
 18 
 
246 ENGLISH FOLK AND FAIRY TALES. 
 
 the way, but I seed nothing; then it ceased all of a sudden. 
 So I turned back to go hame ; but I'd hardly reached the 
 door when I heerd again this brush, brush, brush, and the 
 chains, going down towards t' Holin House ; and I followed 
 it, and the moon there shone varra breet, and I seed its tail! 
 Then, thowt I, thou owd thing, I can say Ise seen thee 
 now ; so I'll away hame. When I gat to t' door, there war 
 a grit thing like a sheep, but it war larger, ligging across 
 t' threshold of t' door, and it war woolly like ; and says 1 . 
 ' Git up,' and it wouldn't git up. Then says I: ' Stir thysel,' 
 and it wouldn't stir itsel ! And I grew vaUiant, and I raised 
 t' stick to baste it wi' ; and then it luik'd at me, and sich 
 oies (eyes) they did glower, and war as big as saucers, and 
 like a cruelled ball. First there war a red ring, then a blue 
 one, then a white one; and these rings grew less and less 
 till they came to a dot I Now, I war nane feer'd on it, tho' 
 it grin'd at me fearfully, and I kept on saying ' Git up,' and 
 ' Stir thysel,' and t' wife heerd as how I war at t' door, and 
 she cam to oppen it ; and then this thing gat up and walked 
 off, for it war mare freefd d f wife than it war d me ; and 
 I told the wife, and she said it war Bargest; but I niwer 
 seed it since — and that's a true story." 
 
DROLLS. 
 
DROLLS. 
 
 THE WISE FOOLS OF GOTHAM.^ 
 
 Cuckoo Bush, near Gotham, tradition says, was planted 
 or set to commemorate a trick which the inhabitants of 
 Gotham put upon King John. The tale is told thus: — 
 King John, passing through this place towards Nottingham, 
 intending to go over the meadows, was prevented by the 
 villagers, they apprehending that the ground over which a 
 king passed was for ever after to become a public road. 
 The king, incensed at their proceedings, sent from his 
 court soon after some of his servants, to inquire of them the 
 reason of their incivility and ill-treatment, that he might 
 punish them by way of fine, or some other way he might 
 judge most proper. The villagers, hearing of the approach 
 of the king's servants, thought of an expedient to turn 
 away his Majesty's displeasure from them. When the 
 messengers arrived at Gotham, they found some of the 
 inhabitants engaged in endeavouring to drown an eel in a 
 pool of water ; some were employed in dragging carts upon 
 a large bam, to shade the wood from the sun ; others were 
 tumbling their cheeses down a hill, that they might find 
 their way to Nottingham for sale ; and some were employed 
 
 ^ Blount's Tenures of Land, edited by W. Carew Uaziitt, p. 133. 
 London, 1874- 
 
250 ENGLISH FOLK AND FAIRY TALES. 
 
 in hedging in a cuckoo which had perched upon an old 
 bush which stood where the present one now stands; in 
 short, they were all employed in some foolish w^ay or other, 
 which convinced the king's servants that it was a village of 
 fools, whence arose the old adage, •' The wise men," or, 
 "The fools of Gotham." 
 The words of an humble poet may be here applicable : — 
 
 ' ' Tell me no more of Gotham fools. 
 Or of their eels in little pools, 
 
 Which they were told were drowning ; 
 Nor of their cans drawn up on high, 
 When King John's men were standing by, 
 To keep a wood from browning. 
 
 " Nor of their cheese shoved down the hill. 
 Nor of a cuckoo sitting still, 
 
 >\Tule it they hedgM round ; 
 Such tales of them have long been told, 
 By prating boobies, young and old. 
 
 In drunken circles crowned. 
 
 " The fools are those who thither go 
 To see the cuckoo bush, I trow. 
 
 The wood, the barn, and pools ; 
 For such are seen both here and there^ 
 And passed by without a sneer 
 
 By all but errant fools." 
 
THE THREE WISHES.^ 
 
 A WOODMAN went to the forest to fell some timber. Just aS 
 he was applying the axe to the trunk of a huge old oak out 
 jumped a fairy, who beseeched him with the most suppli- 
 cating gestures to spare the tree. Moved more by fright 
 and astonishment than anything else, the man consented, 
 and as a reward for his forbearance was promised the 
 fulfilment of his three next wishes. Whether from natural 
 forgetfulness or fairy illusion we know not, but certain it 
 is, that long before evening all remembrance of his visitor 
 passed from his noddle. At night, when he and his dame 
 were dozing before a blazing fire, the old fellow waxed 
 hungry, and audibly wished for a link of hog's pudding. 
 No sooner had the words escaped his lips than a rustling 
 was heard in the chimney, and down came a bunch of the 
 wished-for delicacies, depositing themselves at the feet of 
 the astounded woodman, who, thus reminded of his 
 morning visitor, began to communicate the particulars to 
 his wife. "Thou bist a fool, Jan," said she, incensed at 
 her husband's carelessness in neglecting to make the best 
 of his good luck; "I wish em wer atte noase!" Where- 
 upon, the legend goes on to state, they immediately 
 attached themselves to the member in question, and stuck 
 
 ^ T. Sternberg, Thi Dialect and Fclk-Lore of Northamptonshire, 
 p. I3S. 
 
252 ENGLISH FOLK AND FAIRY TALES. 
 
 so tight that the woodman, finding no amount of force 
 would remove these unsightly appendages from his 
 proboscis, was obliged, reluctantly, to wish them off, 
 thus making the third wish, and at once ending his 
 brilliant expectations. 
 
THE MILLER AT THE PROFESSOR'S 
 EXAMINATION.! 
 
 There once came to England a famous foreign professor, 
 and before he came he gave notice that he would examine 
 the students of all the colleges in England. After a time 
 he had visited all but Cambridge, and he was on his road 
 thither to examine publicly the whole university. Great 
 was the bustle in Cambridge to prepare for the reception of 
 the professor, and great also were the fears of the students, 
 who dreaded the time when they must prove their acquire- 
 ments before one so famous for his learning. As the period 
 of his arrival approached their fears increased, and at last 
 they determined to try some expedient which might avert 
 the impending trial, and for this purpose several of the 
 students were disguised in the habits of common labourers, 
 and distributed in groups of two or three at convenient 
 distances from each other along the road by which the 
 professor was expected. 
 
 He had in his carriage arrived at the distance of a few 
 miles from Cambridge when he met the first of these groups 
 of labourers, and the coachman drew up his horses to in- 
 quire of them the distance. The professor was astonished 
 to hear them answer in Latin, He proceeded on his way, 
 and after driving about Ijalf a mile, met with another group 
 of labourers at work on the road, to whom a similar ques- 
 tion was put by the coachman. The professor was still 
 
 ^ Folk-Lot e Record, vol. ii. p. 173. 
 
254 ENGLISH FOLK 
 
 more astonished to hear them give answer in Greek- "Ah," 
 thought he, " they must be good scholars at Cambridge, 
 when even the common labourers on the roads talk Latin 
 and GreeL It won't do to examine them in the same way 
 as other people." So all the rest of the way he was musing 
 on the mode of examination he should adopt, and just as 
 he reached the outskirts of the town, he came to the deter- 
 mination that he would examine them by signs. As soon, 
 therefore, as he had alighted from his carriage, he lost no 
 time in making known this novel method of examina- 
 tion. 
 
 Now the students had never calculated on such a result 
 as this from their stratagem, and they were, as might well 
 be expected, sadly disappointed. There was one student in 
 particular who had been studying very hard, and who was 
 expected by everybody to gain the prize at the examination, 
 and, as the idlest student in the university had the same 
 chance of guessing the signs of the professor as himself, he 
 was in very low spirits about it. When the day of examina- 
 tion arrived, instead of attending it, he was walking sadly 
 and mournfully by the banks of the river, near the mill, and 
 it happened that the miller, who was a merry fellow, and 
 used to talk with this student as he passed the mill in his 
 walks, saw him, and asked him what was the matter with 
 him. Then the student told him all about it, and how the 
 great professor was going to examine by signs, and how he 
 was afraid that he should not get through the examination. 
 " Oh ! if that's all," said the miller, " don't be low about 
 the matter. Did you never hear that a clown may some- 
 times teach a scholar wisdom ? Only let me put on your 
 clothes, with your cap and gown, and I'll go to the examina- 
 tion instead of you ; and if I succeed you shall have the 
 credit of it, and if I fail I will tell them who I am." "But," 
 
AND FAIR Y TALES, 255 
 
 said the student, '• everybody knows that I have but one 
 eye." " Never mind that," said the miller ; " I can easily put 
 a black patch over one of mine." So they changed clothes, 
 and the miller went to the professor's examination in the 
 student's cap and gown, with a patch on his eye. 
 
 Well, just as the miller entered the lecture-room, the 
 professor had tried all the other students, and nobody 
 could guess the meaning of his signs or answer his ques- 
 tions. So the miller stood up, and the professor, putting 
 his hand in his coat pocket, drew out an apple, and held it 
 up towards him. The miller likewise put his hand in his 
 pocket and drew out a crust of bread, which he in like 
 manner held out towards the professor. Then the professor 
 put the apple in his pocket and pointed at the miller with 
 one finger : the miller in return pointed at him with two : 
 the professor pointed with three ; and the miller held out 
 his clenched fist. "Right!" said the professor; and he 
 adjudged the prize to the miller. 
 
 The miller made all haste to communicate these good 
 tidings to his friend the student, who was waiting at the 
 mill; and the student, having resumed his own clothes, 
 hastened back to hear the prize given out to him. When 
 he arrived at the lecture-room the professor was on his 
 legs explaining to the assembled students the meaning of 
 the signs which himself and the student who had gained the 
 prize made use of. 
 
 " First," said he, " I held out an apple, signifying thereby 
 the fall of mankind through Adam's sin, and he very 
 properly held up a piece of bread, which signified that by 
 Christ, the bread of life, mankind was regenerated. Then 
 I held out one finger, which meant that there is one God 
 in the Trinity; he held out two fingers, signifying that 
 there are two ; I held out three fingers, meaning that there 
 
256 ENGLISH FOLK AND FAIRY TALES. 
 
 are three ; and he held out his clenched fist, which was as 
 much as to say that the three are one." 
 
 Well, the student who got the prize was sadly puzzled to 
 think how the miller knew all this, and as soon as the 
 ceremony of publishing the name of the successful can- 
 didate was over he hastened to the mill, and told him all 
 the professor had said. " Ah ! " said the miller, " I'll tell 
 you how it was. When I went in the professor looked 
 mighty fierce, and he put his hand in his pocket, and 
 fumbled about for some time, and at last he pulled out 
 an apple, and he held it out as though he would throw 
 it at me. Then I put my hand in my pocket, and could 
 find nothing but an old crust of bread, and so I held it 
 out in the same way, meaning that if he threw the apple 
 at me I would throw the crust at him. Then he looked 
 still more fiercely, and held out his one finger, as much 
 as to say he would poke my one eye out, and I held two 
 fingers, meaning that if he poked out my one eye I would 
 poke out his two, and then he held out three of his fingers, 
 as though he would scratch my face, and I clenched my 
 fist and shook it at him, meaning that if he did I would 
 knock him down. And then he said I deserved the 
 prize." 
 
STUPID'S MISTAKEN CRIES.^ 
 
 Therk was once a little boy, and his mother sent him to 
 buy a sheep's head and pluck ; afraid he should forget it, 
 the lad kept saying all the way along : 
 
 " Sheep's head and pluck ! 
 Sheep's head and pluck I " 
 
 Trudging along, he came to a stile; but in getting over 
 he fell and hurt himself, and, beginning to blubber, forgot 
 what he was sent for. So he stood a little while to con- 
 sider ; at last he thought he recollected it, and began 
 to repeat : 
 
 " Liver and lights and gall and all 1 
 Liver and lights and gall and all ! " 
 
 Away he went again, and came to where a man was sick, 
 bawling out : 
 
 " Liver and lights and gall and all 1 
 Liver and lights and gall and all I " 
 
 Whereon the man laid hold of him and beat him, bid- 
 ding him say : 
 
 " Pray God send no more up ! 
 Pray God send no more up ! " 
 
 The youngster strode along, uttering these words, till he 
 reached a field where a hind was sowing wheat : 
 
 ^ Folk-Lore Record, vol. iii. p. 153. 
 
258 ENGLISH FOLK 
 
 " Pray God send no more up ! 
 Pray God send no more up I " 
 
 This was all his cry. So the sower began to thrash him, 
 and charged him to repeat : 
 
 " Pray God send plenty more I 
 Pray God send plenty more ! " 
 
 Off the child scampered with these words in his mouth 
 till he reached a churchyard and met a funeral, but he 
 went on with his : 
 
 " Pray God send plenty more ! 
 Pray God send plenty more 1 " 
 
 The chief mourner seized and punished him, and bade 
 him repeat : 
 
 " Pray God send the soul to heaven S 
 Pray God send the soul to heaven ! " 
 
 Away went the boy, and met a dog and a bitcli going to be 
 hung, but his cry rang out : 
 
 " Pray God send the soul to heaven 1 
 Pray God send the soul to heaven ! " 
 
 The good folk nearly were furious, seized and struck him, 
 charging him to say : 
 
 " A dog and a bitch agoing to be hung I 
 A dog and a liitch agoing to be hung ! " 
 
 This the pocr fellow did, till he overtook a man and z 
 v/oman going to be married. "Oh ! oh ! " he shouted : 
 
AND FAIRY TALES. 359 
 
 " A dog and a bitch agoing to be hung ! 
 A dog and a bitch agoing to be hung ! " 
 
 The man was enraged, as we may well think, gave him 
 many a thump, and ordered him to repeat : 
 
 " I wish you much joy ! 
 I wish you much joy ! " 
 
 This he did, jogging along, till he came to two labourers 
 who had fallen into a ditch. The lad kept bawling out : 
 
 " I wish you much joy ! 
 I wish you much joy 1" 
 
 This vexed one of the folk so sorely that he used all his 
 strength, scrambled out, beat the crier, and told him to say: 
 
 " The one is out, I wish the other was ! 
 The one is out, I wish the other was ! " 
 
 On went young 'un till he found a fellow with only one eyej 
 but he kept up his song : 
 
 " The one is out, I wish the other was ! 
 The one is out, I wish the other was !" 
 
 This was too much for Master One-eye, who grabbed him 
 and chastised him, bidding him call : 
 
 " The one side gives good light, I wish the other did ! 
 Tlie one side gives good light, 1 wish the other did I " 
 
 So he did, to be sure, till he came to a house, one side of 
 which was on fire. The people here thought it was he who 
 had set the place a-blozing, and straightway put him in 
 prison. The end was, the judge put on his black cap, and 
 condemned him to die. 
 
THE THREE SILLIES.^ 
 
 Once upon a time there was a farmer and his wife who 
 had one daughter, and she was courted by a gentleman. 
 Every evening he used to come and see her, and stop 
 to supper at the farmhouse, and the daughter used to be 
 sent down into the cellar to draw the beer for supper. 
 So one evening she was gone down to draw the beer, and 
 she happened to look up at the ceiling while she was 
 drawing, and she saw an axe stuck into one of the beams.^ 
 It must have been there a long, long time, but somehow or 
 other she had never noticed it before, and she began 
 a-thinking. And she thought it was very dangerous to 
 have that axe there, for she said to herself: " Suppose him 
 and me was to be married, and we was to have a son, and 
 he was to grow up to be a man, and come down into the 
 cellar to draw the beer, like as I'm doing now, and the axe 
 was to fall on his head and kill him, what a dreadful thing 
 it would be ! " And she put down the candle and the jug, 
 and sat herself down and began a-crying. 
 
 Well, they began to wonder upstairs how it was that she 
 was so long drawing the beer, and her mother went down 
 to see after her, and she found her sitting on the setluss 
 
 ^ Folk-Lore Journal, vol. ii. p. 40. 
 
 ^ Miss Burne, who collected this story, informs me that she finds 
 the dangerous tool was, not an axe, but " a great big wooden mallet, 
 as some one had left sticking there when they'd been m/tiing-up the 
 beer," i.e., stopping up the barrels. 
 
ENGLISH FOLK AND FAIRY TALES. 261 
 
 crying, and the beer running over the floor. " Why what- 
 ever is the matter ? " said her mother. " Oh, mother ! " 
 says she, " look at that horrid axe ! Suppose we was to be 
 married, and was to have a son, and he was to grow up, and 
 was to come down to the cellar to draw the beer, and the 
 axe was to fall on his head and kill him, what a dreadful 
 thing it would be ! " " Dear, dear 1 what a dreadful thing 
 it would be ! " said the mother, and she sat her down aside 
 of the daughter and started a-crying too. Then after a 
 bit the father began to wonder that they didn't come back, 
 and he went down into the cellar to look after them him- 
 self, and there they two sat a-crying, and the beer running 
 all over the floor. "Whatever is the matter?" says he. 
 " Why," says the mother, " look at that horrid axe. Just 
 suppose, if our daughter and her sweetheart was to be 
 married, and was to have a son, and he was to grow up, 
 and was to come down into the cellar to draw the beer, and 
 the axe was to fall on his head and kill him, what a dread- 
 ful thing it would be ! " " Dear, dear, dear ! so it would ! " 
 said the father, and he sat himself down aside of the other 
 two, and started a-crying. 
 
 Now the gentleman got tired of stopping up in the 
 kitchen by himself, and at last he went down into the cellar 
 too, to see what they were after ; and there they three sat 
 a-crying side by side, and the beer running all over the 
 floor. And he ran straight and turned the tap. Then he 
 said : " Whatever are you three doing, sitting there crying, 
 and letting the beer run all over the floor ? " " Oh I " says 
 the father, " look at that horrid axe ! Suppose you and 
 our daughter was to be married, and was to have a son, and 
 he was to grow up, and was to come down into the cellar to 
 draw the beer, and the axe was to fall on his head and kill 
 him!" And then they all started a-crying worse than 
 
 19 
 
262 ENGLISH FOLK 
 
 before. But the gentleman burst out a-laughing, and 
 reached up and pulled out the axe, and then he said: " I've 
 travelled many miles, and I never met three such big sillies 
 as you three before; and now I shall start out on my 
 travels again, and when I can find three bigger sillies than 
 you three, then I'll come back and marry your daughter." 
 So he wished them good-bye, and started off on his travels, 
 and left them all crying because the girl had lost her 
 sweetheart 
 
 Well, he set out, and he travelled a long way, and at last 
 he came to an old woman's cottage that had some grass 
 growing on the roof. And the old woman was trying to 
 get her cow to go up a ladder to the grass, and the poor 
 thing durst not go. So the gentleman asked the old woman 
 what she was doing. "Why, lookye," she said, "look at 
 all that beautiful grass. I'm going to get the cow on to the 
 roof to eat it. She'll be quite safe, for I shall tie a string 
 round her neck, and pass it down the chimney, and tie it to 
 my wrist as I go about the house, so she can't fall off 
 without my knowing it." " Oh, you poor old silly ! " said 
 the gentleman, "you should cut the grass and throw it 
 down to the cow I " But the old woman thought it was 
 easier to get the cow up the ladder than to get the grass 
 down, so she pushed her and coaxed her and got her up, 
 and tied a string round her neck, and passed it down the 
 chimney, and fastened it to her own wrist. And the gentle- 
 man went on his way, but he hadn't gone far when the cow 
 tumbled off the roof, and hung by the string tied round her 
 neck, and it strangled her. And the weight of the cow 
 tied to her wrist pulled the old woman up the chimney, 
 and she stuck fast half-way, and was smothered in the soot. 
 
 Well, that was one big silly. 
 
 And the gentleman went on and on, and he went to an 
 
AND FAIRY TALES. 263 
 
 inn to stop the night, and they were so full at the inn that 
 they had to put him in a double-bedded room, and another 
 traveller was to sleep in the other bed. The other man was a 
 very pleasant fellow, and they got very friendly together; but 
 in the morning, when they were both getting up, the gentle- 
 man was surprised to see the other hang his trousers on the 
 knobs of the chest of drawers and run across the room and try 
 to jump into them, and he tried over and over again, and 
 couldn't manage it ; and the gentleman wondered whatever 
 he was doing it for. At last he stopped and wiped his 
 face with his handkerchief. " Oh dear," he says, "I do think 
 trousers are the most awkwardest kind of clothes that ever 
 were. I can't think who could have invented such things. 
 It takes me the best part of an hour to get into mine 
 every morning, and I get so hot ! How do you manage 
 yours?" So the gentleman burst out a-laughing, and 
 showed him how to put them on ; and he was very much 
 obliged to him, and said he never should have thought 
 of doing it that way. So that was another big silly. 
 
 Then the gentleman went on his travels again ; and he 
 came to a village, and outside the village there was a pond, 
 and round the pond was a crowd of people. And they 
 had got rakes, and brooms, and pikels (pitchforks), reaching 
 into the pond ; and the gentleman asked what was the 
 matter. "Why," they says, "matter enough! Moon's 
 tumbled into the pond, and we can't get her out any- 
 how ! " So the gentleman burst out a-laughing, and told 
 them to look up into the sky, and that it was only the 
 shadow in the water. But they wouldn't listen to him, 
 and abused him shamefully, and he got away as quick 
 as he could. ^ 
 
 ^ Miss Burne writes to me as follows : — " I find my sister-in-law, 
 also a Staffordshire woman, knew the story when a child, with the 
 
264 ENGLISH FOLK AND FAIR Y TALES, 
 
 So there was a whole lot of sillies bigger than them all, 
 and the gentleman turned back home again and married 
 the farmer's daughter. 
 
 variation of an old woman weeding by candlelight at noonday, instead 
 of the moonrakers." The story has many variants ; but I know of 
 none better told than this. 
 
MR. VINEGAR.1 
 
 Mr. and Mrs. Vinegar lived in a vinegar bottle. Now, one 
 day, when Mr. Vinegar was from home, Mrs. Vinegar, who 
 was a very good housewife, was busily sweeping her house, 
 when an unlucky thump of the broom brought the whole 
 house clitter-clatter, clitter-clatter, about her ears. In a 
 paroxysm of grief she rushed forth to meet her husband. 
 On seeing him she exclaimed, " Oh, Mr. Vinegar, Mr. 
 Vinegar, we are ruined, we are ruined : I have knocked the 
 house down, and it is all to pieces ! " Mr. Vinegar then 
 said: "My dear, let us see what can be done. Here is the 
 door; I will take it on my back, and we will go forth to 
 seek our fortune." They walked all that day, and at night- 
 fall entered a thick forest They were both excessively 
 tired, and Mr. Vinegar said: " My love, I will cHmb up into 
 a tree, drag up the door, and you shall follow." He accord- 
 ingly did so, and they both stretched their weary limbs on 
 the door, and fell fast asleep. In the middle of the night 
 Mr. Vinegar was disturbed by the sound of voices beneath, 
 and to his inexpressible dismay perceived that a party of 
 thieves were met to divide their booty. " Here, Jack," 
 said one, " here's five pounds for you j here. Bill, here's ten 
 pounds for you; here. Bob, here's three pounds for you." 
 Mr. Vinegar could listen no longer; his terror was so 
 intense that he trembled most violently, and shook down 
 the door on their heads. Away scampered the thieves, but 
 ^ J. O. Halliwell, Popular Rhynus and Nursery Tales, p. 26. 
 
266 ENGLISH FOLK 
 
 Mr. Vinegar dared nor quit his retreat till broad daylight 
 He then scrambled out of the tree, and went to lift up the 
 door. What did he behold but a number of golden guineas. 
 " Come down, Mrs. Vinegar," he cried ; "come down, I say; 
 our fortune's made, our fortune's made ! Come down, I say." 
 Mrs. Vinegar got down as fast as she could, and saw the 
 money with equal delight. " Now, my dear," said she, 
 " 111 tell you what you shall do. There is a fair at the 
 neighbouring town ; you shall take these forty guineas and 
 buy a cow. I can make butter and cheese, which you shall 
 sell at market, and we shall then be able to live very com- 
 fortably." Mr. Vinegar joyfully assents, takes the money, 
 and goes oflf to the fair. When he arrived, he walked up 
 and down, and at length saw a beautiful red cow. It was 
 an excellent milker, and perfect in every respect. " Oh," 
 thought Mr. Vinegar, " if I had but that cow, I should be 
 the happiest man alive." So he offers the forty guineas for 
 the cow, and the owner declaring that, as he was a friend, 
 he'd oblige him, the bargain was made. Proud of his 
 purchase, he drove the cow backwards and forwards to 
 show it By-and-by he saw a man playing the bagpipes — 
 Tweedle-dum, tweedle-dee. The children followed him 
 about, and he appeared to be pocketing money on all sides. 
 "Well," thought Mr. Vinegar, "if I had but that beautiful 
 instrument, I should be the happiest man alive — my fortune 
 would be made." So he went up to the man. " Friend," says 
 he, " what a beautiful instrument that is, and what a deal of 
 money you must make." "Why, yes," said the man, "I 
 make a great deal of money, to be sure, and it is a wonderful 
 instrument" "Oh!" cried Mr. Vinegar, "how I should 
 like to possess it ! " " Well," said the man, "as you are a 
 friend, I don't much mind parting with it ; you shall have 
 it for that red cow." " Done ! " said the delighted Mr. 
 
AND FAIRY TALES. 267 
 
 Vinegar. So the beautiful red cow was given for the bag- 
 pipes. He walked up and down with his purchase; but in 
 vain he attempted to play a tune, and instead of pocketing 
 pence, the boys followed him hooting, laughing, and 
 pelting. 
 
 Poor Mr. Vinegar, his fingers grew very cold, and heartily 
 ashamed and mortified, he was leaving the town, when he 
 met a man with a fine thick pair of gloves. "Oh, my 
 fingers are so very cold," said Mr. Vinegar to himself. " If 
 I had but those beautiful gloves I should be the happiest 
 man alive." He went up to the man, and said to him : 
 " Friend, you seem to have a capital pair of gloves there." 
 " Yes, truly," cried the man ; " and my hands are as warm 
 as possible this cold November day." " Well," said Mr. 
 Vinegar, ** I should like to have them." " What will you 
 give ? " said the man ; " as you are a friend, I don't much 
 mind letting you have them for those bagpipes." "Done !" 
 cried Mr. Vinegar. He put on the gloves, and felt perfectly 
 happy as he trudged homewards. 
 
 At last he grew very tired, when he saw a man coming 
 towards him with a good stout stick in his hand. 
 
 " Oh," said Mr. Vinegar, " that I had but that stick ! I 
 should then be the happiest man alive." He accosted the 
 man : " Friend ! what a rare good stick you have got." 
 " Yes," said the man ; " I have used it for many a long 
 mile, and a good friend it has been ; but if you have a 
 fancy for it, as you are a friend, I don't mind giving it to 
 you for that pair of gloves." Mr. Vinegar's hands were so 
 warm, and his legs so tired, that he gladly exchanged. As 
 he drew near to the wood where he had left his wife, he 
 heard a parrot on a tree calling out his name : " Mr. 
 Vinegar, you foolish man, you blockhead, you simpleton ; 
 you went to the fair, and laid out all your money in buying 
 
268 ENGLISH FOLK AND FAIR Y TALES. 
 
 a cow. Not content with that, you changed it for bagpipes, 
 on which you could not play, and which were not worth 
 one-tenth of the money. You fool, you — you had no 
 sooner got the bagpipes than you changed them for the 
 gloves, which were not worth one-quarter of the money; 
 and when you had got the gloves, you changed them for a 
 poor miserable stick ; and now for your forty guineas, cow, 
 bagpipes, and gloves, you have nothing to show but that 
 poor miserable stick, which you might have cut in any 
 hedge." On this the bird laughed immoderately, and Mr. 
 Vinegar, falling into a violent rage, threw the stick at its 
 head. The stick lodged in the tree, and he returned to his 
 wife without money, cow, bagpipes, gloves, or stick, and she 
 instantly gave him such a sound cudgelling that she almost 
 broke every bone in his skin. 
 
LAZY JACK.1 
 
 Once upon a time there was a boy whose name was Jack, 
 and he lived with his mother on a dreary common. They 
 were very poor, and the old woman got her living by 
 spinning, but Jack was so lazy that he would do nothing 
 but bask in the sun in the hot weather, and sit by the 
 corner of the hearth in the winter time. His mother could 
 not persuade him to do anything for her, and was obliged 
 at last to tell him that if he did not begin to work for his 
 porridge she would turn him out to get his living as he 
 could. 
 
 This threat at length roused Jack, and he went out and 
 hired himself for the day to a neighbouring farmer for a 
 penny ; but as he was coming home, never having had any 
 money in his possession before, he lost it in passing over a 
 brook. "You stupid boy," said his mother, "you should 
 have put it in your pocket." "ru do so another time," 
 replied Jack. 
 
 The next day Jack went out again and hired himself to a 
 cowkeeper, who gave him a jar of milk for his day's work. 
 Jack took the jar and put it into the large pocket of his 
 jacket, spilling it all long before he got home. "Dear 
 me ! " said the old woman ; " you should have carried it 
 on your head." " I'll do so another time," said Jack. 
 
 The following day Jack hired himself again to a farmer, 
 who agreed to give him a cream cheese for his services. 
 
 * J. O. IlalliweH, Popular Rkymts and Nursery Tales, p. 37. 
 
270 ENGLISH FOLK 
 
 In the evening Jack took the cheese, and went home with 
 it on his head. By the time he got home the cheese was 
 completely spoilt, part of it being lost, and part matted wiih 
 his hair. "You stupid lout," said his mother, "you should 
 have carried it very carefully in your hands." " I'll do so 
 another time," replied Jack. 
 
 The day after this Jack again went out, and hired himself 
 to a baker, who would give him nothing for his work but a 
 large tom-cat. Jack took the cat, and began carrying it 
 very carefully in his hands, but in a short time pussy 
 scratched him so much that he was compelled to let it go. 
 When he got home, his mother said to him: "You silly 
 fellow, you should have tied it with a string, and dragged it 
 along after you." " I'll do so another time," said Jack. 
 
 The next day Jack hired himself to a butcher, who 
 rewarded his labours by the handsome present of a shoulder 
 of mutton. Jack took the mutton, tied it to a string, and 
 trailed it along after him in the dirt, so that by the time he 
 had got home the meat was completely spoilt. His mother 
 was this time quite out of patience with him, for the next 
 day was Sunday, and she was obliged to content herself 
 with cabbage for her dinner. *' You ninney-hammer," said 
 she to her son, "you should have carried it on your 
 shoulder." " I'll do so another time," replied Jack. 
 
 On the Monday Jack went once more, and hired himself 
 to a cattle-keeper, who gave him a donkey for his trouble. 
 Although Jack was very strong, he found some difficulty in 
 hoisting the donkey on his shoulders, but at last he 
 accomplished it, and began walking slowly home with his 
 prize. Now it happened that in the course of his journey 
 there lived a rich man with his only daughter, a beautiful 
 girl, but unfortunately deaf and dumb ; she had never 
 laughed in her life, and the doctors said she would never 
 
AND FAIRY TALES. 271 
 
 recover till somebody made her laugh. This young lady 
 happened to be looking out of the window when Jack was 
 passing with the donkey on his shoulders, the legs sticking 
 up in the air, and the sight was so comical and strange that 
 she burst out into a great fit of laughter, and immediately 
 recovered her speech and hearing. Her father was over- 
 joyed, and fulfilled his promise by marrying her to Jack, 
 who was thus made a rich gentleman. They lived in a 
 large house, and Jack's mother lived with them in great 
 happiness until she died. 
 
THE HISTORY OF TOM THUMB.i 
 
 It is said that in the days of the celebrated Prince Arthur, 
 who was king of Britain in the year 516, there lived a great 
 magician, called Merlin, the most learned and skilful 
 enchanter in the world at that time. 
 
 This famous magician, who could assume cOiy form he 
 pleased, was travelling in the disguise of a poor beggar, and 
 being very much fatigued, he stopped at the cottage of an 
 honest ploughman to rest himself, and asked for some 
 refreshment. 
 
 The countryman gave him a hearty welcome, and his 
 wife, who was a very good-hearted, hospitable woman, soon 
 brought him some milk in a wooden bowl, and some coarse 
 brown bread on a platter. 
 
 Merlin was much pleased with this homely repast and 
 the kindness of the ploughman and his wife ; but he could 
 not help observing that though everything was neat and 
 comfortable in the cottage, they seemed both to be very 
 dispirited and unhappy. He therefore questioned them on 
 the cause of their melancholy, and learned that they were 
 miserable because they had no children. 
 
 The poor woman declared, with tears in her eyes, that 
 she should be the happiest creature in the world if she had 
 a son ; and although he was no bigger than her husband's 
 thumb, she would be satisfied. 
 
 * From a Chap-book — The Comical and Merry Tricks 0/ Tom 
 Thumb. Paisley {circa 1S20). 
 
ENGLISH FOLK AND FAIR Y TALES. 273 
 
 Merlin was so much amused with the idea of a boy no 
 bigger than a man's thumb, that he determined to pay a 
 visit to the queen of the fairies, and request her to gratify 
 the poor woman's wish. The droll fancy of such a little 
 personage among the human race pleased the fairy queen 
 too, exceedingly, and she prom.ised Merlin that the wish 
 should be granted. Accordingly, in a short time after, 
 the ploughman's wife was safely delivered of a son, who, 
 wonderful to relate ! was not a bit bigger than his father's 
 thumb. 
 
 The fairy queen, wishing to see the little fellow thus bom 
 into the world, came in at the window while the mother was 
 sitting up in the bed admiring him. The queen kissed the 
 child, and, giving it the name of Tom Thumb, sent for some 
 of the fairies, who dressed her little favourite according to 
 the instructions she gave them : 
 
 " An oak-leaf hat he had for his crown ; 
 His shirt of web by spiders spun ; 
 With jacket wove of thistle's down ; 
 His trowsers were of feathers done. 
 His stockings, of apple-rind, they tie 
 With eyelash from his mother's eye : 
 His shoes were made of mouse's skin, 
 Tann'd with the downy hair within." 
 
 It is remarkable that Tom never grew any larger than 
 his father's thumb, which was only of an ordinary size; 
 but as he got older he became very cunning and full of 
 tricks. When he was old enough to play with the boys, 
 and had lost all his own cherry-stones, he used to creep 
 into the bags of his playfellows, fill his pockets, and, getting 
 out unobserved, would again join in the game. 
 
 One day, however, as he was coming out of a bag of 
 cherry-stones, where he had been pilfering as usual, the 
 
274 ENGLISH FOLK 
 
 boy to whom it belonged chanced to see him. " Ah, ha ! 
 my little Tommy," said the boy, "so I have caught you 
 stealing my cherry-stones at last, and you shall be rewarded 
 for your thievish tricks." On saying this, he drew the 
 string tight round his neck, and gave the bag such a hearty 
 shake, that poor little Tom's legs, thighs, and body were 
 sadly bruised. He roared out with pain, and begged to be 
 let out, promising never to be guilty of such bad practices 
 again. 
 
 A short time afterwards his mother was making a batter- 
 pudding, and Tom, being very anxious to see how it was 
 made, climbed up to the edge of the bowl ; but unfortunately 
 his foot slipped, and he plumped over head and ears into 
 the batter, unobserved by his mother, who stirred him into 
 the pudding-bag, and put him in the pot to boil. 
 
 The batter had filled Tom's mouth, and prevented him 
 from crying ; but, on feeling the hot water, he kicked and 
 struggled so much in the pot, that his mother thought that 
 the pudding was bewitched, and, instantly pulling it out of 
 the pot, she threw it to the door. A poor tinker, who was 
 passing by, lifted up the pudding, and, putting it into his 
 budget, he then walked off. As Tom had now got his 
 mouth cleared of the batter, he then began to cry aloud, 
 which so frightened the tinker that he flung down the 
 pudding and ran away. The pudding being broke to pieces 
 by the fall, Tom crept out covered over with the batter, 
 and with difliculty walked home. His mother, who was 
 very sorry to see her darling in such a woful state, put him 
 into a tea-cup, and soon washed off the batter ; after which 
 she kissed him, and laid him in bed. 
 
 Soon after the adventure of the pudding, Tom's mother 
 went to milk her cow in the meadow, and she took him 
 along with her. As the w^ind was very high, for fear of 
 
AND FAIRY TALES. 275 
 
 being blown away, she tied him to a thistle with a piece of 
 fine thread. The cow soon observed the oak-leaf hat, and, 
 liking the appearance of it, took poor Tom and the thistle 
 at one mouthful. While the cow was chewing the thistle 
 Tom was afraid of her great teeth, which threatened to 
 crush him in pieces, and he roared out as loud as he could : 
 " Mother, mother ! " 
 
 "Where are you. Tommy, my dear Tommy?" said his 
 mother. 
 
 " Here, mother," replied he, " in the red cow's mouth." 
 
 His mother began to cry and wring her hands ; but the 
 cow, surprised at the odd noise in her throat, opened her 
 mouth and let Tom drop out. Fortunately his mother 
 caught him in her apron as he was falling to the ground, or 
 he would have been dreadfully hurt. She then put Tom in 
 her bosom and ran home with him. 
 
 Tom's father made him a whip of a barley straw to drive 
 the cattle with, and having one day gone into the fields, he 
 slipped a foot and rolled into the furrow. A raven, which 
 was flying over, picked him up, and flew with him to the 
 top of a giant's castle that was near the sea-side, and there 
 left him. 
 
 Tom was in a dreadful state, and did not know what 
 to do ; but he was soon more dreadfully frightened ; for old 
 Grumbo the giant came up to walk on the terrace, and 
 observing Tom, he took him up and swallowed him like a 
 pill. 
 
 The giant had no sooner swallowed Tom than he began 
 to repent what he had done ; for Tom began to kick and 
 jump about so much that he felt very uncomfortable, and 
 at last threw him up again into the sea. A large fish 
 swallowed Tom the moment he fell into the sea, which 
 was soon after caught, and bought for the table of King 
 
276 ENGLISH FOLK 
 
 Arthur. When they opened the fish in order to cook it, 
 every one was astonished at finding such a httle boy, and 
 Tom was quite delighted at regaining his hberty. They 
 carried him to the king, who made Tom his dwarf, and he 
 soon grew a great favourite at court ; for by his tricks and 
 gambols he not only amused the king and queen, but also 
 all the knights of the Round Table. 
 
 It is said that when the king rode out on horseback, he 
 frequently took Tom along with him, and if a shower came 
 on, he used to creep into his majesty's waistcoat pocket, 
 v/here he slept till the rain was over. 
 
 King Arthur one day interrogated Tom about his parents, 
 wishing to know if they were as small as he was, and what 
 circumstances they were in. Tom told the king that his 
 father and mother were as tall as any of the persons about 
 court, but in rather poor circumstances. On hearing this, 
 the king carried Tom to his treasury, the place where he 
 kept all his money, and told him to take as much money ai 
 he could carry home to his parents, which made the poor 
 little fellow caper with joy. Tom went immediately to 
 procure a purse, which was made of a water-bubble, and 
 then returned to the treasury, where he received a silver 
 threepenny-piece to put into it. 
 
 Our little hero had some difficulty in lifting the burden 
 upon his back ; but he at last succeeded in getting it placed 
 to his mind, and set forward on his journey. However, 
 without meeting with any accident, and after resting himself 
 more than a hundred times by the way, in two days and two 
 nights he reached his father's house in safety. 
 
 Tom had travelled fortj'-eight hours with a huge silver- 
 piece on his back, and was almost tired to death, when his 
 mother ran out to meet him. and carried him into the 
 house. 
 
AND FAIRY TALES. 277 
 
 Tom's parents were both happy to see him, and the more 
 so as he had brought such an amazing sum of money with 
 him ; but the poor little fellow was excessively wearied, 
 having travelled half a mile in forty-eight hours, with a huge 
 silver threepenny-piece on his back. His mother, in order 
 to recover him from the fatigue he had undergone, placed 
 him in a walnut shell by the fireside, and feasted him for 
 three days on a hazel-nut, which made him very sick ; for 
 a whole nut used to serve him a month. 
 
 Tom soon recovered; but as there had been a fall of 
 rain, and the ground very wet, he could not travel back to 
 King Arthur's court; therefore his mother, one day when 
 the wind was blowing in that direction, made a little parasol 
 of cambric paper, and tying Tom to it, she gave him a puflf 
 into the air with her mouth, which soon carried him to the 
 king's palace. The king, queen, and all the nobility were 
 happy to see Tom again at court, where he delighted them 
 by his dexterity at tilts and tournaments ; but his exertions 
 to please them cost him very dear, and brought on such a 
 severe fit of illness that his life was despaired of. 
 
 However, the queen of the fairies, hearing of his indis- 
 position, came to court in a chariot drawn by flying mice, 
 and placing Tom by her side, drove through the air without 
 stopping till they arrived at her palace. After restoring 
 him to health, and permitting him to enjoy all the gay 
 diversion of Fairy-land, the queen commanded a strong 
 current of air to arise, on which she placed Tom, who 
 floated upon it like a cork in the water, and sent him 
 instantly to the royal palace of King Arthur. 
 
 Just at the time when Tom came flying across the court- 
 yard of the palace, the cook happened to be passing with 
 the king's great bowl of furmenty, which was a dish his 
 majesty was very fond of; but unfortunately the poor little 
 
 20 
 
278 ENGLISH FOLK 
 
 fellow fell plump into the middle of it, and splashed the 
 hot furmenty about the cook's face. 
 
 The cook, who was an ill-natured fello^i), being in a 
 terrible rage at Tom for frightening and scalding him with 
 the furmenty, went straight to the king, and represented 
 that Tom had jumped into the royal furmenty, and thrown 
 it down out of mere mischief. The king was so enraged 
 when he heard this, that he ordered Tom to be seized and 
 tried for high treason; and there being no person who 
 dared to plead for him, he was condemned to be beheaded 
 immediately. 
 
 On hearing this dreadful sentence pronounced, poor 
 Tom fell a-trembling with fear, but, seeing no means of 
 escape, and observing a miller close to him gaping with 
 his great mouth, as country boobies do at a fair, he 
 took a leap, and fairly jumped down his throat This 
 exploit was done with such activity that not one person 
 present saw it, and even the miller did not know the trick 
 which Tom had played upon him. Now, as Tom had 
 disappeared, the court broke up, and the miller went home 
 to his mill. 
 
 When Tom heard the mill at work, he knew he was clear 
 of the court, and therefore he began to tumble and roll 
 about, so that the poor miller could get no rest, thinking he 
 was bewitched i so he sent for a doctor. When the doctor 
 came, Tom began to dance and sing ; and the doctor, being 
 as much frightened as the miller, sent in haste for five other 
 doctors and twenty learned men. 
 
 When they were debating upon the cause of this extra- 
 ordinary occurrence, the miller happened to yawn, when 
 Tom, embracing the opportunity, made another jump, and 
 alighted safely upon his feet on the middle of the table. 
 
 The miller, who was very much provoked at being 
 
AND FAIRY TALES. 279 
 
 tormented by such a little pigmy creature, fell into a terrible 
 rage, and, laying hold of Tom, he then opened the window, 
 and threw him into the river. At the moment the miller 
 let Tom drop a large salmon swimming along at the time 
 saw him fall, and snapped him up in a minute. A fisher- 
 man caught the salmon, and sold it in the market to the 
 steward of a great lord. The nobleman, on seeing the fish, 
 thought it so uncommonly fine that he made a present of 
 it to King Arthur, who ordered it to be dressed immediately. 
 When the cook cut open the fish, he found poor Tom, and 
 ran to the king with him ; but his majesty, being engaged 
 with state affairs, ordered him to be taken away, and kept 
 in custody till he sent for him. 
 
 The cook was determined that Tom should not slip out 
 of his hands this time, so he put him into a mouse-trap, and 
 left him to peep through the wires. Tom had remained in 
 the trap a whole week, when he was sent for by King 
 Arthur, who pardoned him for throwing down the furmenty, 
 and took him again into favour. On account of his wonder- 
 ful feats of activity, Tom was knighted by the king, and 
 went under the name of the renowned Sir Thomas Thumb. 
 As Tom's clothes had suffered much in the batter-pudding, 
 the furmenty, and the insides of the giant, miller, and fishes, 
 his majesty ordered him a new suit of clothes, and to be 
 mounted as a knight. 
 
 " Of Butterfly's wngs his shirt was made, 
 
 His boots of chicken's hide ; 
 And by a nimble fairy blade, 
 Well learned in the tailoring trade. 
 
 His clothing was supplied. — 
 A needle dangled by his side ; 
 A dapper mouse he used to ride, 
 Thus strutted Tom in stately pride I " 
 
28o ENGLISH FOLK 
 
 It was certainly very diverting to see Tom in this dress, 
 and mounted on the mouse, as he rode out a-hunting with 
 the king and nobility, who were all ready to expire with 
 laughter at Tom and his jfine prancing charger. 
 
 One day, as they were riding by a farmhouse, a large cat, 
 which was lurking about the door, made a spring, and 
 seized both Tom and his mouse. She then ran up a 
 tree with them, and was beginning to devour the mouse; 
 but Tom boldly drew his sword, and attacked the cat so 
 fiercely that she let them both fall, when one of the nobles 
 caught him in his hat, and laid him on a bed of down, in a 
 little ivory cabinet. 
 
 The queen of the fairies came soon after to pay Tom a 
 visit, and carried him back to Fairy-land, where he 
 remained several years. During his residence there, King 
 Arthur, and all the persons who knew Tom, had died ; and 
 as he was desirous of being again at court, the fairy queen, 
 after dressing him in a suit of clothes, sent him flying 
 through the air to the palace, in the days of King Thunstone, 
 the successor of Arthur. Every one flocked round to see 
 him, and being carried to the king, he was asked who he 
 was — whence he came — and where he lived? Tom 
 answered : 
 
 " My name is Tom Thumb, 
 From the fairies I've come. 
 "When King Arthur shone, 
 This court was my home. 
 In me he delighted, 
 By him I was knighted ; 
 Did you never hear of Sir Thomas Thumb? " 
 
 The king was so charmed with this address that he 
 ordered a little chair to be made, in order that Tom might 
 sit upon his table, and also a palace of gold, a span high, 
 
AND FAIRY TALES. 281 
 
 with a door an inch wide, to live in. He also gave him a 
 coach, drawn by six small mice. 
 
 The queen was so enraged at the honours conferred on 
 Sir Thomas that she resolved to ruin him, and told the 
 king that the little knight had been saucy to her. 
 
 The king sent for Tom in great haste, but being fully 
 aware of the danger of royal anger, he crept into an empty 
 snail-shell, where he lay for a considerable time, until he 
 was almost starved with hunger ; but at last he ventured to 
 peep out, and perceiving a fine large butterfly on the 
 ground, near the place of his concealment, he approached 
 very cautiously, and getting himself placed astride on it, 
 was immediately carried up into the air. The butterfly 
 flew with him from tree to tree and from field to field, and 
 at last returned to the court, where the king and nobility all 
 strove to catch him ; but at last poor Tom fell from his 
 seat into a watering-pot, in which he was almost drowned. 
 
 When the queen saw him she was in a rage, and said he 
 should be beheaded ; and he was again put into a mouse- 
 trap until the time of his execution. 
 
 However, a cat, observing something alive in the trap, 
 patted it about till the wires broke, and set Thomas at 
 liberty. 
 
 The king received Tom again into favour, which he did' 
 not live to enjoy, for a large spider one day attacked him ; 
 and although he drew his sword and fought well, yet the 
 spider's poisonous breath at last overcame him ; 
 
 " He fell dead on the ground where he stood, 
 And the spider suck'd every drop of his blood." 
 
 King Thunstone and his whole court were so sorry at the 
 loss of their little favourite, that they went into moiu-ning, 
 
282 ENGLISH FOLK AND FAIR Y TALES. 
 
 and raised a fine white marble monument over his grave. 
 v»rith the following epitaph : 
 
 " Here lyes Tom Thumb, King Arthur's knight, 
 Who died by a spider's cruel bite. 
 He was well known in Arthur's court. 
 Where he afforded gallant sport ; 
 He rode at tilt and tournament, 
 And on a mouse a-hunling went. 
 Alive he filled the court with mirth ; 
 His death to sorrow soon gave birth. 
 Wipe, wipe your eyes, and shake your head 
 And cry, — Alas ! Tom Thumb is dead I " 
 
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 Musicians' Series "). 
 
 THE STORY OF CHAMBER MUSIC. By N. KILBURN, 
 Mus. Bac. (Cantab. V 
 
 THE STORY OF THE VIOLIN. By PAUL STOEVING, 
 Professor of the Violin, Guildhall School of Music, London. 
 
 THE STORY OF THE HARP. By WILLIAM H. GRATTAN 
 FLOOD, Author of " History of Irish Music." 
 
 THE STORY OF ORGAN MUSIC. By C. F. ABDY 
 WILLIAMS, M.A., Mus, Bac. 
 
 THE STORY OF ENGLISH MUSIC (1604- 1904): being the 
 Worshipful Company of Musicians' Lectures. 
 
 IN PREPARATION. 
 
 THE STORY OF THE PIANOFORTE. By ALGERNON S. 
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 THE STORY OF ENGLISH MINSTRELSY. By EDMOND- 
 STOUNE DUNCAN. 
 
 THE STORY OF MUSICAL SOUND. By CHURCHILL 
 SIBLEY, Mus. Doc. 
 
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 ETC., ETC., ETC. 
 
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