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+} +.p072width { +width:190px; +} +.p087width { +width:210px; +} +.p094width { +width:226px; +} +.xd33e2462 { +text-indent:6em; +} +.p113width { +width:178px; +} +.p125width { +width:203px; +} +.xd33e3048 { +text-indent:2em; +} +.p151width { +width:105px; +} +.p154width { +width:181px; +} +.p172width { +width:325px; +} +.p176width { +width:227px; +} +.xd33e4046 { +text-indent:12em; +} +.p180width { +width:258px; +} +.p186width { +width:265px; +} +.p189width { +width:209px; +} +.p194width { +width:222px; +} +.p200width { +width:262px; +} +/* ]]> */ </style> +</head> +<body> +<div style='text-align:center'>*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 75799 ***</div> +<div class="front"> +<div class="div1 cover"><span class="pageNum">[<a title="Go to the table of contents" href="#toc">Contents</a>]</span><div class="divBody"> +<p class="first"></p> +<div class="figure cover-imagewidth"><img src="images/new-cover.jpg" alt="Newly Designed Front Cover." width="480" height="720"></div><p> +</p> +</div> +</div> +<div class="div1 titlepage"><span class="pageNum">[<a title="Go to the table of contents" href="#toc">Contents</a>]</span><div class="divBody"> +<p class="first"></p> +<div class="figure titlepage-imagewidth"><img src="images/titlepage.png" alt="Original Title Page." width="440" height="720"></div><p> +</p> +</div> +</div> +<div class="titlePage"> +<div class="docTitle"> +<h1 class="mainTitle">STORIES AND FOLK-LORE<br> +OF<br> +WEST CORNWALL</h1> +</div> +<div class="byline">BY<br> +<span class="docAuthor">WILLIAM BOTTRELL.</span> +<br> +“The proper study of mankind is man.”—<i>Pope.</i> +<br> +WITH ILLUSTRATIONS BY MR. JOSEPH BLIGHT.</div> +<div class="docImprint">THIRD SERIES. +<br> +PENZANCE<br> +PRINTED FOR THE AUTHOR BY F. RODDA.<br> +<span class="docDate">1880.</span> +<br> +<span class="corr" id="xd33e141" title="Not in source">(</span><i>Right of Translation reserved.</i>)</div> +</div> +<p><span class="pageNum" id="pb.iii">[<a href="#pb.iii">iii</a>]</span></p> +<div class="div1 preface"><span class="pageNum">[<a title="Go to the table of contents" href="#toc">Contents</a>]</span><div class="divHead"> +<h2 class="main">PREFACE.</h2> +</div> +<div class="divBody"> +<p class="first">The publication of the present work has been attended by circumstances of pathetic +interest. It is to be feared that it will be the last literary testament of its author, +who, before the whole was completed, was stricken by a severe stroke of paralysis, +which has incapacitated him from holding a pen in his hand. He must, therefore, claim +the indulgence of the critics and the public in this third series of Cornish tales. +</p> +<p>The whole subject of folk-lore, however, is at this moment of such general interest, +that still it is hoped that this little addition to the stores now being gathered +from every nation under heaven, may be acceptable to the literary world. The publication +of <i>Melusine</i>, a periodical solely devoted to folk-lore subjects, at Paris, was followed in England +by the formation of the Folk-lore Society in 1878, which promises to take an important +position among the learned societies of the English nation, and whose publications +have already reached the third volume. The valuable collections of this society have +doubtless done much to systematize the work already done, and to encourage the labours +of collectors of folk-lore throughout the world. +</p> +<p>The poet truly says,— +</p> +<div class="lgouter"> +<p class="line">“The proper study of mankind is man.”</p> +</div> +<p class="first">and so the folk-lore student, in collecting the myths, the proverbs, the traditions, +the customs of the peasants of many lands, is doing an important work in accumulating +facts bearing on the history of mankind; not the mere records of the wars and doings +of kings and generals, but of the beliefs, aspirations, thoughts and feelings of the +working classes of various nations. +</p> +<p>In this work the author has done some valuable service, and it is to be hoped that +this addition to his former labours may be found of value, seeing that it deals not +with the traditions of the peasantry of distant and foreign lands, but with the legends +and traditions of the country folk of one of the most romantic and interesting counties +of “Merrie England.” +<span class="pageNum" id="pb.iv">[<a href="#pb.iv">iv</a>]</span></p> +</div> +</div> +<div class="div1 frontispiece"><span class="pageNum">[<a title="Go to the table of contents" href="#toc">Contents</a>]</span><div class="divBody"> +<p class="first"></p> +<div class="figure frontispiecewidth"><img src="images/frontispiece.png" alt="Men an Toll, or the Crick-stone." width="497" height="375"></div><p> +<span class="pageNum" id="pb.v">[<a href="#pb.v">v</a>]</span></p> +</div> +</div> +<div id="toc" class="div1 contents"><span class="pageNum">[<a title="Go to the table of contents" href="#toc">Contents</a>]</span><div class="divHead"> +<h2 class="main">CONTENTS.</h2> +<table class="tocList"> +<tr> +<td class="tocDivNum"></td> +<td class="tocDivTitle"> +</td> +<td class="tocPageNum xs">PAGE</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tocDivNum"></td> +<td class="tocDivTitle"><a href="#ch1" id="xd33e174">Legends of Ladock</a> </td> +<td class="tocPageNum">1</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tocDivNum"></td> +<td class="tocDivTitle"><a href="#ch2" id="xd33e180">The Prize Wrestler and Demon</a> </td> +<td class="tocPageNum">3</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tocDivNum"></td> +<td class="tocDivTitle"><a href="#ch3" id="xd33e186">The Feathered Fiend</a> </td> +<td class="tocPageNum">12</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tocDivNum"></td> +<td class="tocDivTitle"><a href="#ch4" id="xd33e192">The Ghosts of Kenegie</a> </td> +<td class="tocPageNum">21</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tocDivNum"></td> +<td class="tocDivTitle"><a href="#ch5" id="xd33e198">Laying Wild Harris’s Ghost</a> </td> +<td class="tocPageNum">26</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tocDivNum"></td> +<td class="tocDivTitle"><a href="#ch6" id="xd33e204">Cornish Castles</a> </td> +<td class="tocPageNum">37</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tocDivNum"></td> +<td class="tocDivTitle"><a href="#ch7" id="xd33e210">The Haunted Lawyer</a> </td> +<td class="tocPageNum">39</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tocDivNum"></td> +<td class="tocDivTitle"><a href="#ch8" id="xd33e216">Hallantide: or a St. Just Feast fifty years ago</a> </td> +<td class="tocPageNum">48</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tocDivNum"></td> +<td class="tocDivTitle"><a href="#ch9" id="xd33e222">Mill Stories</a> </td> +<td class="tocPageNum">60</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tocDivNum"></td> +<td class="tocDivTitle"><a href="#ch10" id="xd33e228">A Poor Tinner’s Feast</a> </td> +<td class="tocPageNum">62</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tocDivNum"></td> +<td class="tocDivTitle"><a href="#ch11" id="xd33e235">An old Droll about a Poor Tinner’s Feast</a> </td> +<td class="tocPageNum">69</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tocDivNum"></td> +<td class="tocDivTitle"><a href="#ch12" id="xd33e241">A Madron Feast of fifty years ago</a> </td> +<td class="tocPageNum">73</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tocDivNum"></td> +<td class="tocDivTitle"><a href="#ch13" id="xd33e247">Zennor Hearthside Stories</a> </td> +<td class="tocPageNum">80</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tocDivNum"></td> +<td class="tocDivTitle"><a href="#ch14" id="xd33e253">The Seaman’s Ghost</a> </td> +<td class="tocPageNum">84</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tocDivNum"></td> +<td class="tocDivTitle"><a href="#ch15" id="xd33e259">The Old Woman’s Ghost</a> </td> +<td class="tocPageNum">88</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tocDivNum"></td> +<td class="tocDivTitle"><a href="#ch16" id="xd33e265">The Mutton Feast of St. Ives</a> </td> +<td class="tocPageNum">89</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tocDivNum"></td> +<td class="tocDivTitle"><a href="#ch17" id="xd33e271">The Witch of Kerrow</a> </td> +<td class="tocPageNum">91</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tocDivNum"></td> +<td class="tocDivTitle"><a href="#ch18" id="xd33e277">Fairies on the Eastern Green</a> </td> +<td class="tocPageNum">92</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tocDivNum"></td> +<td class="tocDivTitle"><a href="#ch19" id="xd33e283">The last Threatened Invasion: Commotion and False Alarm in the West</a> </td> +<td class="tocPageNum">95</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tocDivNum"></td> +<td class="tocDivTitle"><a href="#ch20" id="xd33e289">Mal Treloare and Sandry Kemp kiss and become good friends again: or Backbiting Crull +outwitted</a> </td> +<td class="tocPageNum">97</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tocDivNum"></td> +<td class="tocDivTitle"><a href="#ch21" id="xd33e295">The Three Geese</a> </td> +<td class="tocPageNum">100</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tocDivNum"></td> +<td class="tocDivTitle"><a href="#ch22" id="xd33e302">The Earl of Stairs’ Son</a> </td> +<td class="tocPageNum">105</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tocDivNum"></td> +<td class="tocDivTitle"><a href="#ch23" id="xd33e308">From Penzance to Carn Galva: Noteworthy objects by the way</a> </td> +<td class="tocPageNum">114</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tocDivNum"></td> +<td class="tocDivTitle"><a href="#ch24" id="xd33e314">Madron</a> </td> +<td class="tocPageNum">114</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tocDivNum"></td> +<td class="tocDivTitle"><a href="#ch25" id="xd33e320">Madron Well</a> </td> +<td class="tocPageNum">115</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tocDivNum"></td> +<td class="tocDivTitle"><a href="#ch26" id="xd33e326">Madron Chapel</a> <span class="pageNum" id="pb.vi">[<a href="#pb.vi">vi</a>]</span></td> +<td class="tocPageNum">117</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tocDivNum"></td> +<td class="tocDivTitle"><a href="#ch27" id="xd33e333">Lanyon Quoit</a> </td> +<td class="tocPageNum">117</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tocDivNum"></td> +<td class="tocDivTitle"><a href="#ch28" id="xd33e339">Lanyon Town Place and House</a> </td> +<td class="tocPageNum">119</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tocDivNum"></td> +<td class="tocDivTitle"><a href="#ch29" id="xd33e345">The Crick-stone</a> </td> +<td class="tocPageNum">119</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tocDivNum"></td> +<td class="tocDivTitle"><a href="#ch30" id="xd33e351">Men Scryfa</a> </td> +<td class="tocPageNum">121</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tocDivNum"></td> +<td class="tocDivTitle"><a href="#ch31" id="xd33e357">The Four Parishes</a> </td> +<td class="tocPageNum">121</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tocDivNum"></td> +<td class="tocDivTitle"><a href="#ch32" id="xd33e363">The Giant of Carn Galva</a> </td> +<td class="tocPageNum">122</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tocDivNum"></td> +<td class="tocDivTitle"><a href="#ch33" id="xd33e370">The Penzance of our Grandfathers</a> </td> +<td class="tocPageNum">126</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tocDivNum"></td> +<td class="tocDivTitle"><a href="#ch34" id="xd33e376">The Old Market-House and its surroundings</a> </td> +<td class="tocPageNum">126</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tocDivNum"></td> +<td class="tocDivTitle"><a href="#ch35" id="xd33e382">The Battle of Architectural Styles</a> </td> +<td class="tocPageNum">128</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tocDivNum"></td> +<td class="tocDivTitle"><a href="#ch36" id="xd33e388">The Self-taught Architect</a> </td> +<td class="tocPageNum">128</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tocDivNum"></td> +<td class="tocDivTitle"><a href="#ch37" id="xd33e394">The Bustle of a Market Day</a> </td> +<td class="tocPageNum">129</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tocDivNum"></td> +<td class="tocDivTitle"><a href="#ch38" id="xd33e400">Madam Trezillian’s Head-Dress</a> </td> +<td class="tocPageNum">130</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tocDivNum"></td> +<td class="tocDivTitle"><a href="#ch39" id="xd33e406">The Ancient Fish-Women of Penzance</a> </td> +<td class="tocPageNum">131</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tocDivNum"></td> +<td class="tocDivTitle"><a href="#ch40" id="xd33e412">The School-days and Home of Pellew</a> </td> +<td class="tocPageNum">131</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tocDivNum"></td> +<td class="tocDivTitle"><a href="#ch41" id="xd33e418">The Western approach to Penzance</a> </td> +<td class="tocPageNum">133</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tocDivNum"></td> +<td class="tocDivTitle"><a href="#ch42" id="xd33e424">Parson Spry and his Wooden Horse and Dog “Sport”</a> </td> +<td class="tocPageNum">133</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tocDivNum"></td> +<td class="tocDivTitle"><a href="#ch43" id="xd33e430">The Rev. James Bevan</a> </td> +<td class="tocPageNum">137</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tocDivNum"></td> +<td class="tocDivTitle"><a href="#ch44" id="xd33e437">Country Clerks and Country Choirs</a> </td> +<td class="tocPageNum">138</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tocDivNum"></td> +<td class="tocDivTitle"><a href="#ch45" id="xd33e443">Old Christmas Carols</a> </td> +<td class="tocPageNum">138</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tocDivNum"></td> +<td class="tocDivTitle"><a href="#ch46" id="xd33e449">Ancient mode of conducting Funerals</a> </td> +<td class="tocPageNum"><span class="corr" id="xd33e453" title="Source: 132">139</span></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tocDivNum"></td> +<td class="tocDivTitle"><a href="#ch47" id="xd33e456">Former means of information among the people</a> </td> +<td class="tocPageNum">140</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tocDivNum"></td> +<td class="tocDivTitle"><a href="#ch48" id="xd33e462">The Astrologers of the West</a> </td> +<td class="tocPageNum">141</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tocDivNum"></td> +<td class="tocDivTitle"><a href="#ch49" id="xd33e468">Conjurors and their Spells</a> </td> +<td class="tocPageNum">142</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tocDivNum"></td> +<td class="tocDivTitle"><a href="#ch50" id="xd33e474">Old Justice Jones</a> </td> +<td class="tocPageNum">143</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tocDivNum"></td> +<td class="tocDivTitle"><a href="#ch51" id="xd33e480">The Vingoes of Treville</a> </td> +<td class="tocPageNum">143</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tocDivNum"></td> +<td class="tocDivTitle"><a href="#ch52" id="xd33e486">Pellew and his Cornish crew</a> </td> +<td class="tocPageNum">144</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tocDivNum"></td> +<td class="tocDivTitle"><a href="#ch53" id="xd33e492">Ancient Games</a> </td> +<td class="tocPageNum">144</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tocDivNum"></td> +<td class="tocDivTitle"><a href="#ch54" id="xd33e498">Old methods of Conveyance—Riding Pillion</a> </td> +<td class="tocPageNum">145</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tocDivNum"></td> +<td class="tocDivTitle"><a href="#ch55">Popular Songs of the times, Marlbrook, and Sentimental Ditties</a> </td> +<td class="tocPageNum">145</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tocDivNum"></td> +<td class="tocDivTitle"><a href="#ch56" id="xd33e511">Green Lanes and Footpaths</a> </td> +<td class="tocPageNum">148</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tocDivNum"></td> +<td class="tocDivTitle"><a href="#ch57" id="xd33e517">Pack-Saddles, &c.</a> </td> +<td class="tocPageNum">148</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tocDivNum"></td> +<td class="tocDivTitle"><a href="#ch58" id="xd33e523">Going to Town on Market-day</a> </td> +<td class="tocPageNum">149</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tocDivNum"></td> +<td class="tocDivTitle"><a href="#ch59" id="xd33e529">Early part of this Century</a> </td> +<td class="tocPageNum">150</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tocDivNum"></td> +<td class="tocDivTitle"><a href="#ch60" id="xd33e535">An old-fashioned greeting</a> <span class="pageNum" id="pb.vii">[<a href="#pb.vii">vii</a>]</span></td> +<td class="tocPageNum">151</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tocDivNum"></td> +<td class="tocDivTitle"><a href="#ch61" id="xd33e542">The Ghosts of Chapel-street and St. Mary’s Chapel-yard</a> </td> +<td class="tocPageNum">152</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tocDivNum"></td> +<td class="tocDivTitle"><a href="#ch62" id="xd33e548">Local Nicknames</a> </td> +<td class="tocPageNum">155</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tocDivNum"></td> +<td class="tocDivTitle"><a href="#ch63" id="xd33e554">Merry-geeks and Market-Jew Crows</a> </td> +<td class="tocPageNum">155</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tocDivNum"></td> +<td class="tocDivTitle"><a href="#ch64" id="xd33e560">Ludgvan Hurlers and Gulval Bulls</a> </td> +<td class="tocPageNum">155</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tocDivNum"></td> +<td class="tocDivTitle"><a href="#ch65" id="xd33e566">Moushal Cut-throats and Newlyn Buckas</a> </td> +<td class="tocPageNum">156</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tocDivNum"></td> +<td class="tocDivTitle"><a href="#ch66" id="xd33e573">Sancras Pigs and Buryan Boars</a> </td> +<td class="tocPageNum">156</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tocDivNum"></td> +<td class="tocDivTitle"><a href="#ch67" id="xd33e579">St. Levan Witches, &c.</a> </td> +<td class="tocPageNum">157</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tocDivNum"></td> +<td class="tocDivTitle"><a href="#ch68" id="xd33e585">Santust Fuggans and Morvah Chick-chacks</a> </td> +<td class="tocPageNum">158</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tocDivNum"></td> +<td class="tocDivTitle"><a href="#ch69" id="xd33e591">Nancledrea Rats and Zennor Goats</a> </td> +<td class="tocPageNum">158</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tocDivNum"></td> +<td class="tocDivTitle"><a href="#ch70" id="xd33e597">Towednack Cuckoos and St. Ives Hakes</a> </td> +<td class="tocPageNum">159</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tocDivNum"></td> +<td class="tocDivTitle"><a href="#ch71" id="xd33e603">A Cornish Droll: Betty Toddy and her Gown</a> </td> +<td class="tocPageNum">161</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tocDivNum"></td> +<td class="tocDivTitle"><a href="#ch72" id="xd33e609">The Ghost-layer</a> </td> +<td class="tocPageNum">171</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tocDivNum"></td> +<td class="tocDivTitle"><a href="#ch73" id="xd33e615">Cornish Dialogue between two old men</a> </td> +<td class="tocPageNum">173</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tocDivNum"></td> +<td class="tocDivTitle"><a href="#ch74" id="xd33e621">A Dialogue between Gracey Penrose and Mally Trevisky</a> </td> +<td class="tocPageNum">175</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tocDivNum"></td> +<td class="tocDivTitle"><a href="#ch75" id="xd33e627">Christmas Carols</a> </td> +<td class="tocPageNum">177</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tocDivNum"></td> +<td class="tocDivTitle"><a href="#ch76" id="xd33e633">Ancient Midsummer Customs</a> </td> +<td class="tocPageNum">179</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tocDivNum"></td> +<td class="tocDivTitle"><a href="#ch77" id="xd33e640">The “Hilla”</a> </td> +<td class="tocPageNum">181</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tocDivNum"></td> +<td class="tocDivTitle"><a href="#ch78" id="xd33e646">The Ancient Cornish Language in the Colonies</a> </td> +<td class="tocPageNum">183</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tocDivNum"></td> +<td class="tocDivTitle"><a href="#ch79" id="xd33e652">According how et may drop</a> </td> +<td class="tocPageNum">184</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tocDivNum"></td> +<td class="tocDivTitle"><a href="#ch80" id="xd33e658">Cornish words in use</a> </td> +<td class="tocPageNum">185</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tocDivNum"></td> +<td class="tocDivTitle"><a href="#ch81" id="xd33e664">Cornish observances with regard to the Sun and Moon</a> </td> +<td class="tocPageNum">187</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tocDivNum"></td> +<td class="tocDivTitle"><a href="#ch82" id="xd33e670">Cornish Conjurors’ Charms against Witchcraft</a> </td> +<td class="tocPageNum">190</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tocDivNum"></td> +<td class="tocDivTitle"><a href="#ch83" id="xd33e676">All on one side, like Smoothy’s wedding</a> </td> +<td class="tocPageNum">192</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tocDivNum"></td> +<td class="tocDivTitle"><a href="#ch84" id="xd33e682">Piskies</a> </td> +<td class="tocPageNum">193</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tocDivNum"></td> +<td class="tocDivTitle"><a href="#ch85" id="xd33e688">Old Cornish Words</a> </td> +<td class="tocPageNum">195</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tocDivNum"></td> +<td class="tocDivTitle"><a href="#ch86" id="xd33e694">Glossary of Local Words</a> </td> +<td class="tocPageNum">197</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tocDivNum"></td> +<td class="tocDivTitle"><a href="#ch87" id="xd33e700">Subscribers’ Names</a> </td> +<td class="tocPageNum">199</td> +</tr> +</table> +</div> +<div class="divBody"> +<p></p> +<div class="figure p-viiwidth"><img src="images/p-vii.png" alt="Man standing on deck of ship." width="167" height="173"></div><p> +<span class="pageNum" id="pb.viii">[<a href="#pb.viii">8</a>]</span></p> +</div> +</div> +<div class="div1 last-child errata"><span class="pageNum">[<a title="Go to the table of contents" href="#toc">Contents</a>]</span><div class="divHead"> +<h2 class="main">ERRATA.</h2> +</div> +<div class="divBody"> +<p class="first"></p> +<div class="table"> +<table> +<tr> +<td class="xd33e714 cell-left cell-top"><span class="seg">Page</span> 83.—</td> +<td class="cell-right cell-top">For 32nd, read 47th.</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="xd33e714 cell-left"><span class="seg"><span class="ditto"><span class="r"><span class="s">Page</span></span><span class="r"><span class="d">,,</span></span></span> </span> 197.—</td> +<td class="cell-right">Insert <i>cavers</i>, the darnel.</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="xd33e714 cell-left cell-bottom"><span class="seg"><span class="ditto"><span class="r"><span class="s">Page</span></span><span class="r"><span class="d">,,</span></span></span> </span> 198.—</td> +<td class="cell-right cell-bottom">For “gleanings, &c.,” read “naked oats” (<i lang="la">avena nuda</i>).</td> +</tr> +</table> +</div><p> +<span class="pageNum" id="pb1">[<a href="#pb1">1</a>]</span></p> +</div> +</div> +</div> +<div class="body"> +<div id="ch1" class="div1 chapter"><span class="pageNum">[<a title="Go to the table of contents" href="#xd33e174">Contents</a>]</span><div class="divHead"> +<h2 class="main">LEGENDS OF LADOCK.</h2> +<div class="epigraph"> +<div class="lgouter"> +<div class="lg"> +<p class="line">“A good man there was of religioun, +</p> +<p class="line">That was a poure persone of a toun: +</p> +<p class="line">But riche he was of holy thought and werk, +</p> +<p class="line">He was also a lerned man—a clerk. +</p> +</div> +<div class="lg"> +<p class="line">And though he holy were and vertuous, +</p> +<p class="line">He was to sinful men not despitous, +</p> +<p class="line">Ne of his speche dangerous ne digne (proud), +</p> +<p class="line">But in his teching discrete and benigne.”</p> +</div> +</div> +<p class="first xd33e759"><span class="sc">Chaucer.</span></p> +</div> +</div> +<div class="divBody"> +<p class="first">A little more than a century ago the Rector of Ladock was the Rev. Mr. Wood, who was +a most zealous churchman even in the days of misty prejudice, when churchmen in general +looked upon nonconformists as scabbed sheep in their fold, and held that no schismatics +were to be tolerated. From having unwavering faith in the grace conferred by his ordination, +he was endowed with remarkable powers as an exorcist and ghost-layer. The reverend +gentleman was also an adept in astrology and other occult sciences, which enabled +him to perform wonders. The simple folk of that secluded place, believing that their +good parson possessed more knowledge than is attributed to ordinary members of the +three learned professions combined, sought his aid in their physical infirmities and +social disturbances, as well as for their spiritual wants. These simple, honest people +were not much troubled in regard to the latter. In those tranquil times they were +comparatively temperate in religious matters. There were many traits in the secular +side of Mr. Wood’s character for which he was much liked and respected. If any dispute +arose between his parishioners the matter was referred to him; and, such was their +confidence in the justice of his award, that they always abided by his decision. If +they had difficulties in parish business the parson explained the law on the subject, +and the matter was settled accordingly. With the youngsters, too, he was a great favourite. +He encouraged them to keep up the old games of wrestling, hurling, and other manly +sports. The silver hurling-ball was left in the parson’s care, and at the Tides, when +he gave it to the young men, he would say to them, “<i>Now, my boys, be on your honour with each other, and let it be your pride to behave +according to the legend <span class="pageNum" id="pb2">[<a href="#pb2">2</a>]</span>engraved on your ball, in old Cornish, which means, as you know, that</i> ‘<span class="sc">Fair Play is Good Play!</span>’ <i>Be sure, too, that One and All observe the ancient laws of your games, which I will +explain to ye if there should be any uncertainty.</i>” Mr. Wood mostly gratified the youngsters by being a spectator of their games, and, +unless he appeared on the Green, some of them went to request his presence. +</p> +<p>He would often say to the men, “A knowledge of the science of wrestling is as necessary +as that of boxing to give one a ready means of self defence. Besides, it is a respectable +exercise from its antiquity. Old chroniclers say that the hero Corineus (or Corin) +with his Trojan hosts, by their faculty of wrestling subdued the Giants by whom this +Western Land was possessed when he and Brutus, with their followers, landed at Totnes.” +He told them how Corin threw the Giants’ king, Gogmagog, on Plymouth Hoe, and then +cast him headlong into the sea over the cliff ever since called Langomagog, or the +Giant’s Leap. +</p> +<div class="lgouter"> +<p class="line">“For which the conquering Brute, on Corineus brave +</p> +<p class="line">This horn of land bestowed, and marked it with his name, +</p> +<p class="line">Of Corin, Cornwall call’d, to his immortal fame.”</p> +</div> +<p class="first">“Soon after this,” Mr. Wood used to say, “the rest of the giants died for grief. The +remembrance of Corin’s exploit was also preserved by the figures of the wrestlers +being cut out in the turf on Plymouth Hoe. These were renewed as they were worn out. +The Cornish should be proud to excel in this exercise, for the remembrance of the +great Corineus from whom they are said to derive their pedigree! So shew yourselves +like brave Trojans, my boys—equally ready to fairly fight and then to feast with their +opponents, using no cunning wiles or tricks to betray. They were good hurlers, too, +as well as wrestlers. Besides this, our old heroic games, and the chase, which may +be classed with them, afford such wholesome excitement as serves to dispel melancholy +thoughts, which, if they be brooded over, are apt to render people crazy, especially +when they lead such solitary lives as most country-folk must. The wisest of eastern +sages has said that there are proper times for joyous diversions as well as for labour. +Such old romances, too, as are related around the winter’s hearth, serve the same +good purpose in that dreary season.” +</p> +<p>It seems that, formerly, in spite of all the subtle disguises that the devil assumed, +he was mostly known when ranging abroad; and Mr. Wood was always able to detect and +conquer him, if he ventured within his jurisdiction. The parson changed the Evil One +into the shape of an animal, and then belaboured the infernal beast lustily with his +hunting-whip, until it ran away, howling like Tregagle. When walking, Mr. Wood usually +carried a stout ebony stick. On its massive silver head was engraved a pentacle, or +<span class="pageNum" id="pb3">[<a href="#pb3">3</a>]</span>Solomon’s seal, and on a broad ring or ferrule, just below the knob, were planetary +signs and mystical figures. This staff was regarded with curiosity and awe. It was +said that, by means of it, “he ruled the planets, controuled evil spirits, repelled +witchcraft, and performed supernatural work generally.” +</p> +<p>The following stories are still told by the winter’s fireside in Ladock and adjacent +parishes. As usual there are various versions, which differ in detail, because our +old droll-tellers claimed a free flight for fancy in such portions of their stories +as admitted of it. +</p> +</div> +</div> +<div id="ch2" class="div1 chapter"><span class="pageNum">[<a title="Go to the table of contents" href="#xd33e180">Contents</a>]</span><div class="divHead"> +<h2 class="main">THE PRIZE WRESTLER AND DEMON.</h2> +</div> +<div class="divBody"> +<p class="first">There was a famous wrestler of Ladock, called John Trevail, though more generally +known among his comrades as “Cousin Jackey,” from the common practice of thus styling +favourites who may be no relation. One Midsummer’s day Jackey went into a neighbouring +parish and threw their champion wrestler. In his pride, he said, as he swaggered round +the ring, “I am open to a challenge from any man, and wouldn’t mind having a hitch +with the Devil himself, ef he’d venture!” +</p> +<p>After the wrestling he passed a few hours with his comrades in the public house. On +his way home, alone, about the “turn of night,” he came to a common called Le Pens +Plat, which is two miles or more from Ladock Churchtown. As he was going on slowly, +from being somewhat tired, and not very steady in the head, he was overtaken by a +gentleman dressed like a clergyman, who accosted him in gentle tones, saying, +</p> +<p>“I was at the wrestling to-day, and I think you are the prize wrestler. Am I right?” +</p> +<p>“Yes, sir, I won the prize that I now carry,” replied Trevail, who felt very uneasy +at meeting there such a strange, black-coated gentleman at that time of night, though +a full moon and clear sky made it almost as light as day. +</p> +<p>“I am very fond of wrestling myself,” resumed the stranger; “it’s an ancient, manlike +exercise, for which we Cornishmen <span class="corr" id="xd33e793" title="Source: have have">have</span> always been renowned; and, as I want to learn more science in my play, I should much +like to try a bout with you; say for your gold lace hat and five guineas, which I +will stake.” +<span class="pageNum" id="pb4">[<a href="#pb4">4</a>]</span></p> +<p>“Not now, sir, for I’m tired,” Jackey replied, “but I’ll play you after dinner-time +if you please, when I’ve had a few hours rest—say two or three o’clock, if it will +please you.” +</p> +<p>“Oh no; it must be at midnight, or soon after, now the nights are short,” said the +stranger; “it would never do for one in my position to be seen here wrestling with +you, high by day; it would scandalize my cloth in these particular and gossip-loving +times.” +</p> +<p>Trevail hesitated, and thought of the wild words he had uttered in the ring. He had +then challenged the Devil, and he felt persuaded that he was now face to face with +his enemy, in this lonely spot. Thinking it best, however, to be as civil as possible, +he agreed to the stranger’s proposal to meet him there at midnight, or soon after; +they shook hands to the bargain, and the gentleman gave him a purse with five guineas +in it for his stake, saying at the same time— +</p> +<p>“You are well known to be an honest fellow, I’ve no fear of your not bringing the +money and your prize won to-day; and if, by any mischance, I shouldn’t come, the money +is yours; but there’s little doubt of my being here sharp upon midnight.” +</p> +<p>He then wished Jackey good morrow, and went away over the common by another path leading +northward. The poor fellow felt, as he trudged along homeward, that he had sold himself +to the Old One. In looking down, when he said good morrow (he couldn’t bear the stranger’s +eye) he saw what he believed to be a cloven foot peeping from beneath his long black +skirts. Poor fellow! he felt as bad as gone, unless he could be rescued some way. +But he could devise no plan by which to avoid his fate. +</p> +<p>Dragging himself along, as best he could, afraid to look behind him, he got to his +dwelling about three o’clock in the morning. His wife, on hearing the door opened, +came downstairs. Seeing Jackey’s haggard looks she refrained from “jawing” him as +usual, when he came home late, and the want of her rough talk made him feel worse +than ever. Jackey took from his pocket the bag of guineas, and threw it into the tool-chest, +among a lot of lumber, saying, “Molly, my dear, doesn’t thee touch that shammy leather +bag for the world! ’Tes the Devil’s money that’s in am!” Little by little he told +her what had happened on the common, and concluded by moaning out, +</p> +<p>“Oh Molly, my dear, thee hast often wished that Old Neck would come and take me away +bodily, and now et do seem es ef thy prayers are to be answered.” +</p> +<p>“No, no, Jackey my son, never think of et,” sobbed she; “whatever I said was only +from the lips outwards, and that’s of no effect, my darlin. I can’t afford to lose +thee yet for awhile. As the sayan es, ‘Bad as thee art it might be wes (worse) without +thee.’ Go the wayst up to bed, my son, et mayn’t come to that for awhile: I’ll <span class="pageNum" id="pb5">[<a href="#pb5">5</a>]</span>this minute put on my cloak and hat, and away to the passen. No good for thee, nor +all the world, to say no, for he only can save thee.” +</p> +<p>On her way to beg Mr. Wood’s assistance she called up a croney with whom she was on +pretty fair terms just then. +</p> +<p>“Arrea! soas; what’s the matter?” exclaimed the gossip, looking from her chamber-window. +“Have anybody cried out that you’re in such ‘stroath’ (hurry) at this untimely hour.” +</p> +<p>“Come along to the passen’s,” replied Molly. “I’m so ‘flambustered’ (worried) I can +hardly speak. Somethan dreadful have happened to our Jackey; and you mustn’t drop +a word to anybody, for your life, of what I’ll tell ’e on the road.” +</p> +<p>The reverend gentleman, being an early riser, was standing at his door, looking out +in the grey of the morning, when he saw the two women, in much agitation, coming towards +him. Ere he had time to speak, Jackey’s wife, with her apron to her eyes, sobbed out, +“Oh, your reverence, I be a poor woman ruined and undone, that I be; for our dear +Jackey have ben and sold hisself to the Old One, and will be carried away bodily the +very next night ef you don’t save am! That a will.” +</p> +<p>After some questions Mr. Wood got an inkling of the case, and said to Molly, +</p> +<p>“Make haste home, my good woman, and tell Jackey, from me, to cheer up; I’ll see him +presently and tell him how to act, and I’m pretty sure the Devil will meet his match, +with my assistance.” +</p> +<p>Shortly after sunrise Mr. Wood entered the wrestler’s dwelling, and found him stretched +on the chimney-stool, sound asleep. When Jackey knew the wise step his wife had taken—the +only one indeed of any use under the circumstances—he became tranquil, and, worn out +as he was with great exertion of body and mind, he soon forgot his troubles. Mr. Wood +roused him and said, +</p> +<p>“Why, Jackey, is there any truth in what your wife has just told me, or did you fall +asleep on the common and have an ugly dream? The chamois-bag that Molly spoke of may +contain nothing more than wart-stones that bad luck cast in your way; but tell me +what happened from first to last, and let’s see the bag.” +</p> +<p>Trevail related his adventures, and concluded by saying, +</p> +<p>“<span class="corr" id="xd33e821" title="Not in source">’</span>Tes all like an ugly dream, sure enow, your reverence, and I wish it were nothing +else, but the Old One’s money es there in my tool-chest, and I remember every word +that passed; besides I should know him again among ten thousand,—such fiery eyes I +never beheld in any other head, to say nothan of the glimpse I had of his cloven foot.” +</p> +<p>Then Jackey brought the bag, holding it at arm’s length with a pincers, as he might +a toad. Urged on, he opened it and turned out five pieces of glittering gold. +</p> +<p>The parson, having examined them, said, +<span class="pageNum" id="pb6">[<a href="#pb6">6</a>]</span></p> +<p>“The sight of these spade guineas, with what you have told me, leave no doubt that +you bargained to wrestle with the Devil; for he it is; you could get this gold no +other way; I’m certain you wouldn’t use unfair means to obtain it. The money seems +good enough, whatever mint it might have been coined in. Yet take courage, you must +be as good as your word, and to-night meet the Old One, as you call him. Don’t fail +to be at the appointed place by midnight, and take with you the stakes, as agreed +on.” +</p> +<p>Jackey looked very dejected on hearing this; intimated that he didn’t like to go alone, +and that he had trusted to have Mr. Wood’s company. +</p> +<p>“You must keep your word with the Devil,” continued the parson, “or he may come and +fetch you when least expected. I shall not go with you, yet depend on it I’ll be near +at hand to protect you against unfair play.” +</p> +<p>Whilst saying this Mr. Wood took from his pocket-book a slip of parchment, on which +certain mystic signs and words were traced or written. +</p> +<p>“Secure this in the left-hand side of your waistcoat,” said he, in giving it to Jackey; +“don’t change your waistcoat, and be sure to wear it in the encounter; above all, +mind ye—show no fear, but behave with him precisely as you would with any ordinary +wrestler, and don’t spare him, or be fooled by his devices.” +</p> +<p>Jackey’s wife now came in. She had been “courseying” (gossiping) on the road, to ease +her mind. Mr. Wood left the dwelling; and Trevail, now in pretty good heart, went +with him some distance. +</p> +<p>On parting the parson cautioned him to keep the matter private. +</p> +<p>“That I will be sure to do,” replied Jackey; “I havn’t told a living soul but my wife, +and she can keep a secret first-rate—for a woman. There’s no fear now of my showing +a white feather, thanks to your reverence.” +</p> +<p>At the appointed time our prize-wrestler went boldly to Le Pens Plat Common and waited +near the spot agreed on. At midnight the gentleman in black arrived by the same path +he took in the morning. They looked hard at each other for some minutes without speaking, +till Trevail said, “I’m come in good time you see, and there are the prizes on that +rock. You know the rules of the game, I suppose, that one must lay hold above the +waist; whichever makes three falls in five bouts wins the prize; it belongs to you, +as the challenger, to take the first hitch.” +</p> +<p>Still the stranger made no reply, and kept his gleaming eyes on the wrestler, who, +feeling uncomfortable under his persistent stare, looked towards the rock, where the +prizes lay, and said, “Then, if you won’t wrestle, take your money, and no harm done.” +<span class="pageNum" id="pb7">[<a href="#pb7">7</a>]</span></p> +<p>That instant Trevail felt himself seized, all unawares, by his waistband and lifted +clear off the ground. It seemed to the man as if the Old One rose with him many yards +above the earth; and its “far-re-well to all the world with me now,” thought Cousin +Jackey to himself. +</p> +<p>During a desperate struggle in the air, however, the man got his right arm over his +opponent’s shoulder, and grabbing him on the back with a good holdfast, took a crook +with his legs. In the encounter the wrestler’s breast, or rather his waistcoat, touched +the Evil One, who on the instant lost his hold, fell flat on his back, as if knocked +down, and writhed on the ground like a wounded snake. The wrestler pitched to his +feet as he came down, never the worse, but his temper was now raised to such a point +that he was ready to fight or wrestle with any man or devil. +</p> +<p>The other rose up with fury in his countenance, and exclaimed, “You have some concealed +weapon about ye that has wounded me; cast off that waistcoat.” +</p> +<p>“No, by golls,” replied Jackey, “that I wont, to please ye; feel my jacket if you +like; there’s no blade in am<span class="corr" id="xd33e845" title="Source: ’">,</span> not even a pin’s point, but ’tes you that show the queer tricks; catch me off my +guard again ef you can.” +</p> +<p>Saying this he clenched the Old One like a vice; but they had a hard struggle for +more than five minutes, pushing and dragging each other to and fro at arm’s length. +The Old One seemed afraid to close in. Jackey felt all out of sorts with the blasting +gleams of the other’s evil eyes, and couldn’t get a crook with his legs. At last, +making a desperate plunge, he freed himself from the Devil’s grasp; took him with +the “flying-mare,” and threw him on his back with such a “qualk” as made him belch +brimstone fumes. +</p> +<p>The devil quickly sprung up, looking very furious, and said, “I’m deceived in you, +for your play is very rough, and I desire you to request Parson Wood to go home. I +am confused and powerless whilst he is looking on.” +</p> +<p>“I don’t see Mr. Wood, nor anybody else but you,” returned Jackey. +</p> +<p>“Your sight mayn’t be so good as mine,” replied the other. “I can only just see his +eyes glaring on me from between the bushes on yonder hedge, and I hear him mumbling +something too. If I’m foiled again it will be all owing to your confounding parson. +I hope to serve him out for this some day.” +</p> +<p>“Never mind our passon, he can wrestle very well himself,” said Jackey in a cheerful +tone, “and do like to see good play; so come on, at it agen.” Saying this he grasped +his opponent in a “Cornish hug,” with more vigour than ever, laid him on his back +as flat as a flounder, and said, “There, you have had three fair falls; but if <span class="pageNum" id="pb8">[<a href="#pb8">8</a>]</span>they don’t satisfy ’e, I’ve more science to teach ’e yet.” The wrestler kept a sharp +eye on the prostrate one, intending to give him another thumping qualk the instant +he rose, unless he asked for quarter. During the half minute or so that he watched +the demon crameing on the ground like a serpent, the sky became overcast, and the +moon obscured with gathering clouds, which seemed bursting with thunder. Looking closely, +in the dim light, at the gentleman in black, Jackey was frightened to see that, in +a twinkling, his feet and legs had become like those of a huge bird; his skirts changed +to a pair of wings; and his form was still changing to that of a dragon, when he flew +away, just skimming the ground at first, and leaving in his wake a train of lurid +flame; then soared aloft and entered the pitch black clouds, which, on the instant, +became all ablaze with lightning, and thunders roared, echoing all around from hill +to hill. As the black cloud ascended, with a whirling motion, it appeared like an +immense wheel revolving in the air, flashing lightning and shooting thunder-bolts +from all around its border. +</p> +<p>The demon’s sudden change and flight, with the noxious vapours spread around, so confused +and stupefied Jackey, that for a minute or so he lost sight of all above and below. +Whilst still like one in a trance, gazing on the sky, now clear overhead, he felt +a hand on his shoulder, and heard Parson Wood say, in cheery tones, “Well done, my +boy; I was proud to see thy courage and good play. See, there’s the devil’s battery,” +continued he, pointing to a small black cloud so far away as to be almost lost to +view; and casting a glance round he noticed, on a rock, Jackey’s gold-lace hat and +the bag of money. +</p> +<p>“Come, my son, rouse thee,” said he, “take up thy prizes and let’s be off homeward.” +</p> +<p>The wrestler took up his hat, but looked askaunt on the bag of guineas, as if unwilling +to touch it. +</p> +<p>“Take the money,” urged Mr. Wood. “It’s fairly won; but some old sayings are passing +in thy mind such as ‘A guinea of the devil’s money is sure to go, and take ten more +with it.’ ‘What’s gained over the fiend’s back will slip away under his belly;’ and +other old saws of the like meaning, which don’t refer to such money as that; but to +unfair gains gotten by those thieves in heart who are too greedy to be honest. Yet +even such often hold fast the cash for themselves and theirs, when the devil cries +quits by taking them all at last.” +</p> +<p>Trevail took up the bag, and, as he pocketed it, a flash of light drew their attention +to the fiend’s retreat, now so high that it appeared a mere dot in the clear sky. +They saw a streak of fire leave it, and, descending like a shooting star, fall in +a neighbouring parish. +<span class="pageNum" id="pb9">[<a href="#pb9">9</a>]</span></p> +<p>“Mark that, Jackey!” exclaimed Mr. Wood, “for it’s no other than your wrestling devil, +or one of his company, who has come down amongst St. Endor witches; and it strikes +me that we havn’t seen the last of him yet.” +</p> +<p>“There’s a hut on a moor just where he dropped,” said Jackey, “in which a number of +hags meet every now and then; and when they have agreed on the mischief they are to +work, about midnight they fly away on their brooms or ragwort stalks. In the small +hours of morning they are often seen beating homewards in the shape of hares. Many +old hags over that way get what they like for the asking. If any one of them hap to +be refused she’ll shake her bony finger at the one who denies her, and say, ‘You will +wish you had,’ and sure enow, from the fear of some ill wish falling on them or theirs, +the old witch is pretty sure to get all she looked for.” +</p> +<p>On their way home Jackey thanked the parson most heartily for his protection, and +told him that in the first bout he thought all was over for him in this world, when +the Old One rose with him off the earth “ever so high.” +</p> +<p>“You are mistaken in that, my son,” replied Mr. Wood, “it was only your fright on +being seized unawares and suddenly lifted off the ground that made ye think so; for, +to give the devil his due, he never tried to fly away with you. I saw it all, and +precautions had been taken to guard against foul play on his part, if any tricks were +attempted, as you will understand by-and-bye, when I tell you of my night’s work.” +</p> +<p>Jackey didn’t contradict the reverend gentleman, but he was of the same opinion still; +and whenever he told the story in after years, always asserted that on his first hitch +he was taken up “towers high,” and still getting higher, until he came to close quarters +with the Old One. +</p> +<p>“I have had a busy time of it,” continued Mr. Wood. “Long before midnight I was on +the ground—which I knew from your description to be the place of your encounter,—and +summoned thither many powerful spirits, who attended with pleasure to see such a wrestling. +They hadn’t, of late, beheld the like, though, in days of yore, contests between men +and demons were not unfrequent. The one you have conquered is a devil of high rank. +He came attended by a great number of lower degree; and precautions were taken to +place around ye a ring of my true and valiant spirits, who made your opponent’s attendant +fiends remain in an outer circle. +</p> +<p>“Besides, there were crowds of vagrant spirits wandering to and fro, on the earth +and in the air, as is their custom from midnight to cock-crowing; all of them stopped +to witness your contest. They were all visible to me, though by you unseen; and well +for ye it was so, because a sight of such beings would be sure to shock <span class="pageNum" id="pb10">[<a href="#pb10">10</a>]</span>ye or any other unprepared mortal. Many in the crowd were very ghastly in appearance. +Your demon’s retainers were in their usual form, which suits them for air or earth. +</p> +<p>“Many bets were made between the spectators in both circles and overhead; and a great +many of the demon’s backers are bound to serve the winners for ages. They don’t much +mind that, however. Time hangs heavy on their hands; and of all spirits, fallen ones +are the most restless, as it goes against their grain to do mortals a good turn. For +the sake of some change in their wearisome existence they rise tempests, serve the +evil behests of witches, and perform other acts of deviltry, such as we often hear +of; yet they are a melancholy set that one might pity.” +</p> +<p>The wrestler expressed his wonder at what the parson related; yet, from what he had +heard of devils’ doings, wasn’t much surprised. +</p> +<p>Over a while Mr. Wood resumed, “I am somewhat chagrined though all has gone well on +the whole; for I was watching to see thee give three fair falls, intending then to +rush on the devil and shame him, if possible, with a lusty thrashing with my hunting-whip, +it’s fastened round my waist; but, as bad luck would have it, in getting hastily over +the hedge my skirts caught in brambles, and I dropped my ebony staff. That instant, +whilst it lay on the earth, the demon took a form which used to be common amongst +the infernal brood. At his signal the attendant fiends formed a thunder-cloud to receive +their chief. The guardian spirits, well pleased, only quitted their charge when my +hand was laid on your shoulder; all the rest you saw.” +</p> +<p>“I have often heard,” said Jackey, <span class="corr" id="xd33e880" title="Not in source">“</span>of a dragon that burned Helston, was that a devil too?” +</p> +<p>“Very likely, or something as bad,” replied Mr. Wood. “The tradition handed down simply +says that, in old times, before there was a bar formed at the Loe, and when the tide +flowed past the site of St. John’s Mill, a dragon often came from over sea and burnt +the ancient town. Yet the dragon which visited Helston might only have been a northern +pirate’s ship known by that name. +</p> +<p>“I was going to tell you that I owe this wrestling devil a grudge. Who, indeed, in +my place wouldn’t be vexed with the beast for taking the disguise he so impudently +assumed? Decked as he was in a three cocked beaver and black garments, he might easily +pass himself off for a clergyman, without a close scrutiny.” +</p> +<p>“I thought sure he was,” said Jackey, “he wore a white neck-cloth too; and one could +hardly make out if he had a cloven foot or no.” +</p> +<p>From walking slowly home it was broad day when they arrived at the parsonage. Mr. +Wood gave the wrestler a substantial breakfast of cold beef, bread, and ale. After +a hearty meal, Jackey <span class="pageNum" id="pb11">[<a href="#pb11">11</a>]</span>said, “I should be glad to serve your reverence at any hour by day or by night, for +I owe you more than life.” +</p> +<p>“Not so, my son,” the parson replied, “for I have only done my duty in guarding from +the wolf a wild and thoughtless one of my flock.” +</p> +<p>The money, however, did the wrestler but little if any good, and it was the cause +of quarrels between him and his wife, and of both with their neighbours. Jackey soon +learnt how it was rumoured all around that he had sold himself to the Old One to have +his wishes gratified for a few years, with the usual consequences to follow. Now he +had told nobody but his wife—of course, Mr. Wood’s prudence was not to be suspected,—and +she had only spoken of her trouble to her crony, who went with her to the parson. +Accordingly, dame Trevail accused her gossip of having spread many falsehoods round +the parish, and abused her for the breach of confidence. +</p> +<p>The crony retorted by saying, “Fool that thee art, however cust (canst) thee expect +me, or anybody else, to keep thy secrets, when thee cusn’t keep them thyself? And +what do I care; I han’t had any share of thy dirty money; by golls! I wedn’t touchen +weth a peer of tongs; I han’t got a spoon long enow to sup weth thy old gentleman. +All the neighbours do say that of late, since thee hast had thy new rig out, from +top to toe, thee art become so huffish and toit (uncivil in reply) that they can’t +venture to say ‘What cheer,’ or give thee the ‘time o’ day’; and that poor Cousin +Jackey han’t got a minute’s peace in his own house with thy constant ballarggan (abuse) +and naggan that will fret am to death before long. Then thee mayst wring thy hands +and cry ‘bad as Jackey was, a es wes (worse) to live without am.’ Well, soase! my +bedgownd and towser (large coarse apron to come all round and tie behind) es good +enow for me or any other honest workan woman. They say that thee wert decked out like +a lady in church a Sunday, with thy new covertail (kirtle) gownd, who but thee forsooth! +A clean bedgownd, check-apron, and quilted-petticoat do more become thee. ’Tes no +wender people do gibe thee for thy pride; and ’tes as good as an old ‘merable’ play +to hear what they do say about thee. Now, go thee wast along home, and think over +what I’ve told thee.” +</p> +<p>For many years after this Jackey continued to be the champion wrestler of his neighbourhood; +and the story of his midnight adventure took the form of a droll just like the above. +</p> +<p>Shortly after Mr. Wood gave the wrestler his ghostly aid, the reverend gentleman had +much fiendish annoyance on that account, as will be seen in the sequel to this story. +</p> +<p>One may remark that many old folks often compare a droll subject to an old miracle +play, though they have but a misty idea <span class="pageNum" id="pb12">[<a href="#pb12">12</a>]</span>of what it was. The other day an elderly man of Newlyn, in speaking of old droll-tellers +meeting together and spinning their yarns, said, “It is as good as an old miracle-play +to hear them.” On my asking what an old miracle play was, he replied that he couldn’t +say exactly, but from what he had heard, he thought it was much the same as an old +guise-dance. He wasn’t much out, as “St. George and the Dragon” was the guise-dance +he had in view. +</p> +</div> +</div> +<div id="ch3" class="div1 chapter"><span class="pageNum">[<a title="Go to the table of contents" href="#xd33e186">Contents</a>]</span><div class="divHead"> +<h2 class="main">THE FEATHERED FIEND.</h2> +</div> +<div class="divBody"> +<p class="first">Ladock men were famous ringers of old; but from a few weeks before their champion’s +victory over the demon-wrestler, the fine old bells of their church had been silent +because their ropes were quite worn out, and other gearing connected with them required +repairs to be used with safety. Shortly after Trevail’s victory, an evil spirit, in +the form of a very large bird, with coal-black plumage, and fiery eyes, but of a kind +unknown to Ladock folks, was seen perched on the tower for several nights in succession, +where it remained for hours jumping from one pinnacle to another, and making an unnatural +clamour, which was heard far away. Shortly after it came by day, and even during Divine +Service. The pastor and his flock were distracted by its croaking and cawing, as if +in derision. +</p> +<p>When the clerk, with five or six other elderly men and two women, who formed the choir, +quavered through the psalms—which they sung in parts, much in the mode of old “three-man-songs,”—this +feathered fiend, just over their heads, on the tower, would utter such infernal noises +as to make sad discord of the old men’s music. The clerk seldom used a book, as he +knew pretty well, by heart, the three or four psalms they usually sung; but sometimes +he would commence with a verse from one, and then give out portions of others; and +now his memory was so confused by irritation that one Sunday he concluded by giving,— +</p> +<div class="lgouter"> +<p class="line">“And now may Heaven amend us all, +</p> +<p class="line">And into bliss us bring!”</p> +</div> +<p class="first">Happily the two female singers discovered his mistake as he was going to finish the +verse with— +</p> +<div class="lgouter"> +<p class="line">“This was the hunting of the Cheviot: +</p> +<p class="line">God send us all good ending!”</p> +</div> +<p class="first">Every now and then the accursed thing would mimic all sorts <span class="pageNum" id="pb13">[<a href="#pb13">13</a>]</span>of familiar but jarring sounds; sometimes it screeched “like a pig caught in a gate;” +then quickly changed its note to imitate the cry of hounds in full chase; or the cackling +and scolding of old women. By such noises coming down from the elevated site, many +of the congregation were constrained to burst out in roars of laughter, which, like +yawning, is very catching. Prim folks, who put great restraint on themselves in order +to retain a solemn demeanour, suffered such pains that they had to leave Church and +give vent to their pent up feeling. +</p> +<p>Mr. Wood was nonplussed; the Evil One was too high up to be reached with his hunting-whip, +and the methods by which he had formerly exorcised demons now failed. From this one’s +position, he could not comply with all the prescribed formulas, such as enclosing +him in a magic circle, &c. The reverend gentleman felt his fame as an exorcist was +at stake. He told his people that the accursed thing was no other than a mean mocking +devil sent thither by the demon-wrestler to torment him, out of revenge for his aid +to their champion, whereby Jackey’s victory and the Evil One’s discomfiture were assured. +</p> +<p>The increasing vexation continued for many weeks, until Mr. Wood was struck with an +idea which he turned to good account; and which should be recorded for the benefit +of others who may ever have to encounter the like difficulties. +</p> +<p>One Sunday, after evening service, when the congregation had dispersed—the clerk and +sexton waiting in the porch,—the parson came out of the Church sighing, “Oh! for how +long is this grevious trial to endure;” and, turning to his clerk, said, “We and the +people might as well have stayed at home for all the benefit derived by them from +either the service or the sermon this afternoon. I could not help observing that their +attention was more given to the horrid noises which reached them from the tower than +to my instructions from the pulpit.” +</p> +<p>“It’s a very hard tryal for you, to be sure,” replied the clerk, “but, as for me, +I’ve more than once had a great mind to smash my bass-viol and rush out of Church; +’tes always hard work for me to keep our singers in time and tune; and now, with this +screechan devil on the tower, we are always in confusion, and might as well sing ‘Chevy +Chace’ for all the words anybody can hear; et wed try the patience of Job ef he, like +me, had a ‘pare’ of singers to lead, and the devel makan such a ‘drilzey’ (irritating +noise) over hes head; it wed be wes for am than havan to listen to hes conceited com——” +</p> +<p>“Pray thee leave Job and his comforters for the time,” exclaimed Mr. Wood. “The good +man, like many another, might well say, ‘Save me from my friends.’ I noticed, too, +that many strangers come from a great distance, more and more every Sunday, drawn +<span class="pageNum" id="pb14">[<a href="#pb14">14</a>]</span>hither by curiosity. I have tried all authorised means for expelling demons that the +position taken by this one admits of; but I find the truth of what has long been said, +that, of all devils, those of the mocking kind are the most difficult to subdue; they +may be likened unto hairbrained, self-conceited fools amongst mortals, who can only +be ruled by the rod, and this fiend keeps too high up to be reached by my whip. Yet +sometimes, indeed, when I read to the fiend at the utmost pitch of my voice, he remained +so still that I hoped he was being subjected to my will; but the conjuration or incantation +ended, he always hopped upon a pinnacle, cocked his tail, danced round, and cried +caw, caw, as much as to say it’s all a farce, and I like to hear your voice.” +</p> +<p>“Now only to think of es emperance,” murmured the clerk. +</p> +<p>“I have heard, too,” continued Mr. Wood, “that some thoughtless youngsters have proposed +to try on him the virtues of powder and lead. I am glad to learn, however, that they +have been better advised; the result of such temerity would, probably, be something +awful for them. I now come to the particular matter I wish to speak with you about. +</p> +<p>“During a long pause I had to make in my sermon this afternoon, whilst the plumed +devil took his turn, a thought occurred to me which I hoped might be a happy inspiration.” +</p> +<p>“Goodness grant et,” cried the impatient clerk; “do ’e tell me what et es, and hear +the devil screaman now.” +</p> +<p>“You know what is said in Holy Writ respecting little children,” resumed Mr. Wood. +<span class="corr" id="xd33e929" title="Not in source">“</span>You likewise know that sage old folks have a saying, ‘the Evil One can’t endure the +sight of an innocent child,’ and——” +</p> +<p>“Aye, verily,” interrupted the clerk; “bless me, sure ’tes a wender I dedn’t think +of that before, why old people—who are the only ones that know anything—say a babe +in a house es more use to keep evil sperats out of en than a five-pointed star (pentagram) +cut on the drussell (door-sill), and any number of hos shoes nailed to the lentran +(lintel). Besides, we all know the rash lawyer who summoned the sperat of that unjust +stewart, Jan Tregagle, into Court, by sayan, ‘ef Tregagle seed the money paid, may +Tregagle appear and declare et.’ By the time the words were well out of hes mouth, +the enraged sperat stood before am, sayan,—‘Thee hast found et easy to bring me here, +but thee west find et harder to put me away agen;’ and the enraged Tregagle wed ha +torn the lawyer lem from lem, ef he hadn’t snatched a little child from a woman’s +arms and held et in hes own. Weth that protection he defied the wild sperat—who was +jest the same as a devil, from beean weth them so long,—drove am into a corner and +pinned am there, while all the other people tore out of Court, for their lives, except +the cheeld’s mother and the judge. As a was ’sizes there <span class="pageNum" id="pb15">[<a href="#pb15">15</a>]</span>happened to be many passens in town (Bodmin), and they, on hearan of et, went all +together to lay Tregagle. You know what trouble they had nearly all night, and couldn’t +quell the sperat till the Rector of Roach came among them and——” +</p> +<p>“Ho!” exclaimed the parson, “west thee keep me here all night with thy endless fables +about Tregagle, that we have all heard from our childhood. Listen to what I was about +to say regarding the means whereby I hope to expel this fiend from Ladock. +</p> +<p>“I suppose there are several unbaptised children in the parish, as many women have +been in childbed, I know, since last Ladock-tide (the parish feast), but none of their +children have been christened.” +</p> +<p>“Haif a dozzen, or more, have ben in the straw,” replied the old man, “and all their +children are kept tel next feasten-tide, to be christened then, accordan to custom, +that the same treat may serve for witnesses (sponsors) and feasters; that et may be +‘the more the merrier,’ for feasten-time; and some of them are nearly ready to tumble +in agen before they’ve returned thanks for their last deliverance. I was gwean to +say just now,” continued the clerk, as Mr. Wood was about to speak, “that ef you had +only been in the world in Tregagle’s time, and qualified for a sperat-queller and +devel-driver as you are now, that Evil One, who es more like a devel than a mortal’s +sperat, wedn’t ha been left to carry on, in the way he ded, for many years; after +sweepan the sand from one West country cove to another, in a crack, when they were +miles asunder; stoppan up the Loo, and so changan Helston from a seaport to an inland +town; then back again for another job, and frightnan people out of their lives almost, +with the devel and hes hounds chasan am round and round Gosmoor and about, tryan to +keep am from the Chapel on the rock, where Tregagle always took refuge. Happely passons +fixed am, at last, to team out Dosmery. There he’ll have to stay, for ever and ever +and aye. He mait as well try to dip the ocean dry weth hes leaky croggan (limpet shell) +as that bottomless pool, which as a part of the sea, they say, as et do fall and rise +with the ebb and flow of the tide; and for a few minutes after the tide’s turn to +ebb, there’s a whirlpool in the meddle of en, when bushes and other light things floatan +near are sucked down, and sometime afterwards they rise agen in Falmouth Harbour or +St. Austell Bay, I forget which,—some say the one and some ’tother. I wanted to ax +’e somethan about ’n, fearan I shud forget, but——” +</p> +<p>“Stop, for goodness sake,” cried the parson, “leave Dosmery and Tregagle to the charge +of Old Nick and be—be attentive to what I have farther to say regarding our own devil, +and the means to be essayed for driving him; and when we have happily concluded, we +will—on some winter’s night—overhaul these old stories, to see <span class="pageNum" id="pb16">[<a href="#pb16">16</a>]</span>if there be a few grains of truth underlaying the mass of fables. +</p> +<p>“Now, as I take it that recently baptised children have the greatest power to drive +away evil spirits, I wish you to go round the parish to-morrow, and request all prudent +women who have lately undergone the pains and perils of childbirth, to come and be +churched next Sunday afternoon, if they are able, and to bring their babes to be christened +at the same time. If a goodly number can’t be got to come next Sunday, let it be on +the following week, but arrange with the mothers that they all come at the same time.” +</p> +<p>“I’ll do the best I can, accordan to your wishes,<span class="corr" id="xd33e946" title="Not in source">”</span> replied the clerk, “but they won’t be willan to come before the feast, because poor +people don’t care to make two treats when one would do.” +</p> +<p>“Tell them to give the sponsors cake and ale, for the time,” replied Mr. Wood, <span class="corr" id="xd33e950" title="Not in source">“</span>and put off their chief entertainment till the tide, when we’ll have a merry time +of it. The feasten week I’ll go round and visit them all; and you, being fiddler-in-chief, +shall have enough to do. Call at my house when you come back to tell me how you have +got on, and that we settle on the number, and other matters to be observed.” +</p> +<p>Whilst talking they had walked slowly towards the parsonage. The clerk having agreed +to Mr. Wood’s proposals, they wished each other good night and separated. +</p> +<p>Early on the following morning Clerk Courtney, as he was called, began his journey +round the parish to ask the mothers of all unbaptized children to bring them to be +christened the next Sunday afternoon. After stating the urgent reason for his request, +the women replied to the effect that they would have preferred leaving their christenings +till the feast, for the sake of economy; yet being desirous, above all things, to +please their good parson, they promised to attend, as required, and thought it nothing +strange that they should be wanted for such an occasion, as they knew the trouble +the devil had given, and the prevalent belief in the power of young children to rout +evil spirits. Few of the good dames were provided with wheaten flour, as barley-bread +was the “staff of life” then in all labourers’ and most small farmers’ households. +They told the clerk, however, that if they couldn’t get wheat to take to mill, in +time for making a christening cake, they would buy a few penny worth of biscuit, so +as to have white-bread for offerings on their way to be “uprose.” They would on no +account neglect this old custom of giving to the first person met on the way to be +churched a good slice of cake or wheaten bread of some sort; it was believed to bring +good luck to the giver, receiver, and child. +</p> +<p>The mother also drew a presage, from the first person by whom met or overtaken on +leaving her threshold. She regarded encountering boy or man as a good omen that her +next born would <span class="pageNum" id="pb17">[<a href="#pb17">17</a>]</span>be a boy. Such was the dislike of many mothers to meeting another woman that they +often left the path, or, if they saw no way for avoiding a meeting, the poor woman +passed the omen of ill-luck on the right hand, as she would a witch, and appear not +to see her. Yet their most general plan was to turn back home, if not far from it, +and touch the “cravel” (mantle-stone across the head of an open chimney) with her +forehead, and cast into the fire a handful of dry grass, or anything picked up, on +the way back, that would burn; then start again, hoping for better luck. +</p> +<p>The practice of resorting to the hearth and touching the “cravel”<a class="noteRef" id="xd33e960src" href="#xd33e960" title="Go to note 1.">1</a> with the head, is regarded as the most effectual means of averting any impending +evils of a mysterious nature. +</p> +<p>The reasons for their preference of boys to girls may be found in the old sayings:—“While +the boy is away his bread winning, the maid is home doing nothing but spinning.” “Boys +can take care of themselves, but maidens can’t.” +</p> +<p>The dames would all get a “half-a-strike” of wheat each and take it to mill if they +could. They liked going thither to “serge” (sift) their flour to their liking, and +hear the latest gossip from the miller’s wife, or other women who brought their grist. +Mills were so noted as places for scandal, that any slanderous tale used to be called +a “mill story.” The mill, too, was the usual place of rendezvous for young folks of +summers’ evenings, when they generally had a dance, to music from the miller’s fiddle,—all +the <span class="pageNum" id="pb18">[<a href="#pb18">18</a>]</span>old millers could play dance tunes. If the miller hadn’t leisure, some of the merry +company either beat up the time on a “crowd” (sieve-rind with a sheepskin bottom, +used for taking up corn, flour, &c.), or they sung verses of old ballads which suited +the measure. We will no longer linger over our pleasing old customs. +</p> +<p>As most of the sponsors were courting couples, living in the parish, the clerk gave +them timely notice, too, that the young women might get up their best rig-out, as +he called it, against the grand occasion. Some of the mothers, poor dears, who were +so earnest that there should be no “hitch” in the matter, accompanied the clerk to +houses where they apprehended finding any difficulty, to help him over it. They had +no occasion, however, for the women, without exception, agreed they could go through +“fire and water” to please their good parson. “Bless hes heart,” said they, “hes door +es always open to a poor body in want; he’d give the shirt from hes back to any one +in much distress; and he esn’t a bit sticked up, though wise man as he es, he might +well be proud of his learnan.” +</p> +<p>“’Tes never his way,” said another, “to be like the old priest of the fable, who was +ever ready weth hes blessan, but wed never bestow a farthan; as for our passon, he +wed have us all be merry and glad tell the end.” +</p> +<p>“Aye, we all know there esn’t his equal round about,” said the clerk. “Moreover, et +will be something for ’e all to remember weth pride; and your cheldren’s cheldren +may well feel exalted to hear how their ‘grammars’ help’t to rout the devil from Ladock.” +</p> +<p>Before night the old man was assured by as many mothers as he thought sufficient that +they would bring their babes to be christened the next Sunday. On his way home he +called in at several farm-houses, in all of which he was made welcome with something +substantial to eat, and good strong ale to help him on. The folks were always glad +to have him and his violin at their merry-making times, such as “gulthise” (harvest-feast) +weddings, christenings, feasten tides, &c., although he had no great variety of dance +tunes. +</p> +<p>Soon after day-down he arrived back to the parsonage, not a bit the worse for liquor, +because he had taken little else than good wholesome home-brewed. Having told Mr. +Wood how he had succeeded, the reverend gentleman, after a pause, said, “You have +done well, better in fact than I expected; the number of women to be depended on amounts +to eight, though you thought them more. Now everything is significant. It was held +by wise men of yore, and is by many of the present day, that peculiar virtues belong +to particular numbers, representing the signs of planetary and other powers; indeed, +a magic square is as powerful for <span class="corr" id="xd33e980" title="Source: controling">controlling</span> <span class="pageNum" id="pb19">[<a href="#pb19">19</a>]</span>demons as the impress of Solomon’s seal, which you call the five-pointed star. So +to neglect nothing which might tend to our success, we will have a fortunate, or what +you would call a lucky number of children. You know everybody hereabouts use nine +in all their charms and many other matters. They also call old stone circles ‘nine-maidens,’ +though they are, for the most part, formed of many more than nine stones. The latter +part of this name, however, is a double corruption, first from the old Cornish men +(stone) into medn (just as pen is changed to pedn); thence it became Saxonised to +maiden, which, in turn, suggested foolish legends about dancing-maidens turned to +stones to account for this unmeaning name. The general use of nine seems to indicate +that the ancient inhabitants regarded it as a sacred number. According to eastern +sages, twelve is the best of all, because it contains the number of signs on the sun’s +yearly circuit, and for various other reasons. +</p> +<p>“So we will make up a round dozen with four of the youngest christened last year. +You can go and select them to-morrow; the mothers will make no difficulty, as they +have nothing to provide; and here, take this,” said Mr. Wood, placing in the other’s +hand a good sum in silver, “and give it amongst the poor women, that they may buy +biscuit for their offerings, and not want to ask for trust.” +</p> +<p>The clerk, having supped heartily, promised to find the additional number on the morrow, +and went home well content, particularly so because “the master,” as he called the +parson, had given him money for the poor mothers. +</p> +<p>Next Sunday afternoon a dozen matrons came with their infants and the sponsors. There +were many strangers as well as the regular congregation, and the devil on the tower, +making his usual disturbance. +</p> +<p>There were nine women churched; and as many children christened, after service; when +the parson walked out of Church, followed by twelve mothers, with their babes in their +arms, and the godfathers and godmothers, in a procession, marshalled by the clerk. +They were all arranged in lines, five deep, the mothers in front, opposite the belfry +door. Mr. Wood directed each mother to pass her child from one of its sponsors to +the other, the last handing it to him. +</p> +<p>He then held it up awhile, that the devil might behold it, and returned it to its +mother. +</p> +<p>All the babes having been thus passed from hand to hand, their mothers held them aloft, +whilst the parson walked to and fro, before them, reading and cutting the air, in +various figures, with his ebony staff. He read and read for a long spell, in loud +tones, yet the infernal being still remained,—pretty silent, however,—<span class="pageNum" id="pb20">[<a href="#pb20">20</a>]</span>“clutted in” close by a pinnacle, on the tower’s eastern edge, where he seemed quite +heedless of the important proceedings below. +</p> +<p>At last some of the children, becoming tired, perhaps, began to cry, the others followed +suit, and the twelve blessed babes, each one and altogether, seemed trying their utmost +to scream the loudest; whilst the parson read or recited with increased vehemence. +Then it was that the fiend hopped over on to the western parapet, and stretching his +neck glanced down on the good folks. +</p> +<p>The effect of what he heard and saw was magical; at least it seemed so to the spectators. +</p> +<p>Giving a prolonged scream, which was heard for miles around, he darted straight up, +to the height of a bow-shot, or more; then, shaping his course towards St. Ender, +he quickly disappeared. +</p> +<p>Many of the spectators said they saw sparks and blue flames thrown off with every +flap of his huge wings; but all of them agreed that his display of fire was nothing +like what they had expected to behold when a devil takes his departure. Over a while, +when it was found that he didn’t return, there was great rejoicing in Ladock; and +he has nevermore been seen there from that time to this. The bells were put in order +without delay, and their frequent joyous peals kept all such fiends at a distance. +</p> +<p class="small"><span class="sc">Note.</span>—The clerk spoken of in the foregoing story was much respected by his neighbours on +account of his ancient lineage; he was a descendant of the Courtneys who long owned +Tretnurf, in Ladock, and lived there for many generations. +</p> +<p></p> +<div class="figure p020width"><img src="images/p020.png" alt="Woman dacing with devil." width="295" height="237"></div><p> +<span class="pageNum" id="pb21">[<a href="#pb21">21</a>]</span></p> +</div> +<div class="footnotes"> +<hr class="fnsep"> +<div class="footnote-body"> +<div class="fndiv" id="xd33e960"> +<p class="footnote"><span class="fnlabel"><a class="noteRef" href="#xd33e960src" title="Return to note 1 in text.">1</a></span> The once general custom of “touching the cravel” for the purpose of averting evils +foreshadowed by ill-omens, &c., seems to have almost died out with the disuse of open +fire-places for burning furze and turf. +</p> +<p class="footnote cont">Some fifty years ago the practice must have been known all over the county, and farther +off. A “pellar,” called Lutey, then in great repute, enjoined those under his “protection” +to perform the rite at stated periods, as a safeguard against witchcraft and bad luck +generally. In the spring—as soon as there was twelve hours sun—this wise man was resorted +to by people from all parts of the county, and farther away, to have their “protection” +renewed. This was always the term used, and its meaning well understood. Great numbers +came over from the Scilly Islands, and the captains and crews of Welsh vessels trading +to Hayle often sought this conjurer’s aid. +</p> +<p class="footnote cont">One may hope that the pleasant old Christmas pastime of burning ivy-leaves and rushes +was still observed, last Twelfth-night, in some outlying hamlets where the good folks +are not yet so “enlightened” as to conceive that they know much more than their grandparents. +</p> +<p class="footnote cont">Those who have taken part in this old observance for obtaining presages regarding +the most important events of life, know that “touching the cravel” must be carefully +complied with on leaving the hearth to gather what they require; and the first thing +on their return, before any of them may speak, and their more interesting rites commence. +</p> +<p class="footnote cont">If any of the company happen to speak by the way, the charm is spoiled, and the seeming +presages will be unreliable, unless the incautious ones return, touch the cravel, +and resume the work. +</p> +<p class="footnote cont">One may be excused for dwelling so long on these almost forgotten customs, as they +may have some significance, interesting to antiquaries at least. It is high time to +glean the little that remains of old-world observances; for even in such remote places +as the northern parishes, most folks, under middle age, are chary of giving any information +about them. <a class="fnarrow" href="#xd33e960src" title="Return to note 1 in text.">↑</a></p> +</div> +</div> +</div> +</div> +<div id="ch4" class="div1 chapter"><span class="pageNum">[<a title="Go to the table of contents" href="#xd33e192">Contents</a>]</span><div class="divHead"> +<h2 class="main">THE GHOSTS OF KENEGIE.</h2> +</div> +<div class="divBody"> +<p class="first">Old folks of Gulval say that, in their <span class="corr" id="xd33e1012" title="Source: grandparents">grandparents’</span> time, the ancient mansion of Kenegie and its grounds were constantly haunted by three +“sperats,” and, on some nights by many more. +</p> +<p>The following stories respecting them were told by an aged tinner of Lelant, as they +had been often related to him by his mother, who had lived for many years in service +at Kenegie, previous to her marriage, about fourscore years ago; some incidents are +also taken from other versions. +</p> +<p>The first ghost, of whom there is any remembrance, and the one which remained longest, +was the spirit of a thrifty old Harris, who made great additions to the house and +walled-gardens, and was most unwilling to die and leave them. This spirit, however, +gave but little trouble. He merely came on a certain night in every year—which was +known to his descendants—to review the place in which he had taken so much delight; +and only required that, on the night of his accustomed visit, the principal entrance +door should be left open, as well as one opposite, opening into a paved court surrounded +by offices. +</p> +<p>At that time the grand entrance was approached by a straight, stately avenue, flanked +by a bowling green, with a picturesque two-storied summer-house or “look-out” at its +further end. +</p> +<p>It was believed that any negligence in leaving open these doors, at the stated time, +would be a cause of misfortune to the Harris family, or a token of its decline. +</p> +<p>Consequently, this custom was duly observed from farther back than there is any remembrance, +until within a few years of the time when the last Harris of Kenegie disposed of his +ancestral home. ’Tis said that when the spirit came and found the doors closed—through +some mistake, it is supposed,—he made much unearthly wailing, till cock-crowing, then +went moaning away and never returned. +</p> +<p>It is surmised that when the old family residence, in which he so much delighted, +came into the possession of strangers, he neither desired to see it nor to hear of +it again; and that he has, ever since, shut himself up in his family vault, where +he has plenty of company, as one may judge from the great number of monuments in Gulval +Church, recording the virtues of his descendants. Before <span class="pageNum" id="pb22">[<a href="#pb22">22</a>]</span>that unlucky time, crickets were heard chirriping around the hearths of their old +home all night long; but afterwards not one was heard or seen,—sure token of impending +misfortune. +</p> +<p>The next ghostly visitor, and a more troublesome one, had been housekeeper and a great +favourite with a later Squire Harris, much to the prejudice of his son and heir. The +very night after her funeral, disturbances began; the whole household were annoyed +by this husey of a ghost prancing along stone-paved passages, from one room to another—doors +clashing and banging behind her,—till she entered the kitchen, where she would next +be heard winding-up the great roasting-jack,—one of the old fashioned noisy clock-work +machines, kept in motion by a heavy weight passing through the chamber floors, and +attached to a rope or chain working over screeching pullies, fixed somewhere in the +upper regions of the mansion. +</p> +<p>After an interval of scolding, shrieking, and the other accessories of a row, she +would beat the table or dresser-bed with a rolling-pin, and make the pewter-plates +rattle, by way of announcing, as she was wont to do, that the roast was ready, and +to summon the servants to dish it up. Between the thumps, she screeched “Quick, come +quick!” and another voice replied “Anon, anon!” Then the parlour furniture would be +shifted, as if preparations were in progress for entertaining a large company. At +length the inmates were glad to hear her high-heeled shoes patting over stairs and +along the gallery, until they stopped at her late master’s bed-chamber door, which +was usually the conclusion of her noisy exploits for the night. +</p> +<p>The shadowy figure of this old woman, in a long-bodied gown and kirtle, was frequently +seen passing quickly through the court. Now and then it happened that a new servant, +wishing to get ahead with her work—on washing days especially,—and not hearing any +disturbance, ventured downstairs in the small hours of the morning; but, on entering +the kitchen, her light was almost always blown out, and she got a slap in the face, +from an invisible hand, that “made her see fire before her eyes;” and, on turning +to leave the room, received a kick behind which made her remember to stay abed till +cock-crowing. +</p> +<p>This housekeeper was “put to rest,” however, many years before the Harrises left their +old home, and bound to perform such a task as she richly deserved. There are no particulars +known of the way in which this was done; it is only stated that some powerful exorcists—neighbouring +clergymen, who were then supposed to possess power over ghostly visitants—succeeded, +after much conjuration, in quelling her, in some measure; but, as she absolutely refused +to leave the place, they compromised matters by confining her to a small room, on +the eastern or northern side of the <span class="pageNum" id="pb23">[<a href="#pb23">23</a>]</span>mansion; with her were placed a fleece of black wool, a pair of cards, a “pole and +kiggal” (distaff and spindle) and knitting needles. With these she was required to +card the black fleece until it became white, and then to spin it and knit stockings +of the yarn. Her closet door is walled up or plastered over, so that few know exactly +where it is situated, though old folks who served the Harris family say they have +often heard the clicking of cards in some remote part of the buildings, and that there +was always a little hole, such as sparrows might nest in, through and through the +wall; if filled up, it was sure to be opened over night, without being touched by +mortal hands. +</p> +<p>Whether this old jade’s ghost still gives signs of her presence, is best known to +the inmates. One would gladly dismiss her, but we shall have to mention her again +in connection with “Wild Harris,” who next came back and haunted the place, down almost +to recent times. +</p> +<p>The last Ghost of Kenegie—at least of whom there is any trustworthy tradition—was +that of a spendthrift heir, known as “Wild Harris,” who is best remembered, because +ordinary parsons’ collective power was found insufficient to lay him. He extended +his walks all over the grounds and far away down in the “bottom” towards the mill. +He was also often seen on horseback, chasing with one hound, on Kenegie Downs and +elsewhere. +</p> +<p>Belated market folks and others dreaded to pass Kenegie Gate, for they frequently +saw the “Squire’s sperat” standing in an alcove, just over this grand entrance. The +ghost mostly wore a steeple-crown and feather, hunting-coat and riding-boots, or a +long, black gown and flat cap, with lace and plume. +</p> +<p>He usually stood beside his family coat-of-arms, which may still be seen, and glared +down on the road with a look as immovable as that of the lions carved in stone, that, +on either hand, then guarded the gate. Sometimes, too, he was beheld seated beside +the churchway-stile, a few yards further up the hill. Often on approaching this spot, +people were made aware of the spirit being near, though invisible, by a sulpherous +smell which pervaded the place. +</p> +<p>On winter nights, the Squire’s ghost, with a dozen or more of his “old comrades,” +or such-like spirits, would assemble in the bowling-green summer-house, where they +might be seen and heard from the mansion even, talking, singing, swearing, and shouting, +in a state of uproarious mirth. Altogether, Kenegie must have been a lively place +of nights, with the old housekeeper reacting scenes of her former rule within, and +“Wild Harris’s” nocturnal carouse in the “look-out.” Few servants, however, lived +there long; they didn’t relish such ghostly merriment, in which they had no other +share than to be kept awake and terrified all night. +<span class="pageNum" id="pb24">[<a href="#pb24">24</a>]</span></p> +<p>No satisfactory account is handed down as to why these troublesome spirits could not +or would not rest; there are, however, fragments of misty traditions which throw a +little light on the subject. +</p> +<p>Of the old improving gentleman, who delighted in building, no more seems to be known +than what has been stated. The other unresting Harris is said to have been an eager +sportsman, with much wild-oats in his composition, who cared for little else but his +hunter and hounds, except a young lady, a poor relation, dependent on his family, +with whom she lived much like a fish out of water, being regarded as too low for the +parlour on grand occasions; and, at all times, as too high for the kitchen, where +she was treated as an intruder by the housekeeper and her creatures. +</p> +<p>This unfortunate damsel passed much of her time in the pleasant upper room of the +summer-house with old maiden ladies of the family, who here wrought everlasting tapestry, +fine lace, or embroidery, varying their labours by spinning, to stretch their legs, +and by doing much other useful and ornamental work,—then regarded as necessary accomplishments. +Here, too, the ancient dames sipped choice cordials of their own distilling or compounding; +perhaps, in latter days, enjoyed their tea and gossip; and, from the balcony-like +outer stair-landing, have watched the gentlemen’s healthy exercise and sports on the +bowling-green. This choice retreat was finished with decorative wood and plaster-work; +over the fireplace may yet be seen the family coat-of-arms; a broad window, opposite +the entrance, commanded a delightful view over miles of rich pasture, orchards, and +gardens; the western hills, with several parish churches; St. Buryan tower, standing +boldly out, like a lofty landmark, against the sky. In the ground apartment, which +also contains a fireplace, gentlemen, after their exercise on the bowling-green, rested +and partook of refreshments with more enjoyment than— +</p> +<div class="lgouter"> +<p class="line xd33e1043">“A party in a parlour, +</p> +<p class="line">Cram’d as they on earth are cram’d.”</p> +</div> +<p class="first">When the poor gentlewoman was in her bloom, “Wild Harris’s” father was a widower, +in his dotage, and too much influenced by his housekeeper, who had been, during his +wife’s lifetime, and was still, a special favourite with him. The old faggot, may +she never cease carding, and her wool never become white! She ever disliked her young +master, and detested the poor orphan lady, of whom she was jealous, fearing lest she +might supplant her one day in governing the household. The dame was a malicious spy +on the lovers, who frequently met in the summer-house and retired walks down the vale. +Their interviews were all the sweeter for being stolen; yet soon, alas, they resulted +in sorrow to the young lady. +<span class="pageNum" id="pb25">[<a href="#pb25">25</a>]</span></p> +<p>The old gentleman was much prejudiced against his poor cousin by being persuaded that, +only for this unfortunate attachment, his son would have wedded a rich heiress, whose +lands lay near the Harrises’ “up-country” property. He declared that the day his son +married his cousin, he would wed his housekeeper, so that she should still rule the +roost. In spite of all opposition, however, the young man would have made an “honest +woman” of his betrothed, but was hindered by the malice of the old dame and his father +until too late; for the poor damsel, distracted with grief, wandered away one night, +she knew not whither, and next morning was found, by her lover, drowned in a mill-pond. +</p> +<p>Shortly after this tragic event the old Squire died, and “Wild Harris” found himself +master of Kenegie, but <span class="corr" id="xd33e1053" title="Source: disenherited">disinherited</span> of much other property, bequeathed to his brothers in the army or navy. He had some +satisfaction, however, in turning to doors the old mischief-making minion, but not +much; she soon fretted herself to death, and was hardly laid in her grave ere she +was back again, making such a din, out of mere spite, as hindered the inmates from +getting a wink of sleep during the dead hours of night. +</p> +<p>The master of Kenegie became more reckless than ever; his days were spent in hunting, +or holding games on the bowling-green; and his nights were passed in revelry. +</p> +<p>He kept open house, for rich or poor, who chose to partake of his hospitality. One +and all were cordially welcomed. With all his faults, he had an open heart and hand; +but, in a few years, he came to an untimely end, whilst still in his prime, by a fall +from his horse when hunting on the Castle Downs. It is said that his horse was startled +by a white hare that often followed him, and was believed to be the unfortunate lady’s +spirit. +</p> +<p>He was borne to Gulval Church and laid in the vault at night, as was the fashion then +with some of our old families. His burial was attended by many friends; and when some +of them—who remained late at the funeral supper—came down the avenue to return home, +they beheld him, as natural, seemingly, as life, standing by the summer-house steps, +arrayed in his hunting-dress, and, by his side, a favourite old dog that had died +when his master breathed his last. +</p> +<p></p> +<div class="figure p025width"><img src="images/p025.png" alt="Piskey jumping over toadstool." width="94" height="103"></div><p> +<span class="pageNum" id="pb26">[<a href="#pb26">26</a>]</span></p> +</div> +</div> +<div id="ch5" class="div1 chapter"><span class="pageNum">[<a title="Go to the table of contents" href="#xd33e198">Contents</a>]</span><div class="divHead"> +<h2 class="main">LAYING WILD HARRIS’S GHOST.</h2> +</div> +<div class="divBody"> +<p class="first">The following account of this ghost-laying is given as related by the old tinner,<a class="noteRef" id="xd33e1068src" href="#xd33e1068" title="Go to note 1.">1</a> except where his dialect might be unintelligible to general readers. It is curious +that he made the spirit-queller address the ghost by the uncouth word “Nomine domme,” +which he thought a proper name. One cannot doubt that the expression used by the original +story-teller was (<i>In</i>) <i lang="la">nomine Domini</i>, which became corrupted, as above, by the usage of more ignorant droll-tellers of +recent times. +</p> +<p>On asking my venerable gossip what the term signified, he replied to the effect that +it would take a conjurer to tell. He had heard it was a magical word, very likely +the spirit’s name among spirits, for old folks held that they acquire new ones quite +different from what they bore when in mortal bodies; that persons, knowing and using +these secret names, obtained power over spirits, whether black or white; by this means +conjurers controlled them, and witches summoned fiends to work their wicked will for +a time. According to old belief, the infernal gentry were fond of wandering <i>incog.</i>, just like mortals of high rank, that they might not have too many witches to work +for. That strange word was the only one remembered of the parson’s conjuring formulary; +“the others,” said he, “were as long as to-day and to-morrow, not like ours, for none +but a parson, or some such learned body, could utter them.” +</p> +<p>When speaking of evil spirits, he called them “Bukkaboos,” which is a recent corruption +of “Bukka-dhu” (black spirit,) as old folks, who knew anything of Cornish, pronounced +it. Within the writer’s remembrance, “Bukka-gwidden” (white spirit) was also in frequent +use, though there was great latitude allowed to its signification. All good spirits, +including, “small people” (fairies) were thus termed, except Piskey; he was regarded +as “something between both,” like St. Just Bukka said he was, on seating himself between +a mine-captain and a “venturer,” who asked him if he were a fool or a rogue? +</p> +<p>If Piskey threshed poor old people’s corn and did other odd jobs for them by night, +he was just as ready to lead them astray and into bogs, for mere fun; to ride the +life out of colts; dirt on blackberries; and do other <span class="corr" id="xd33e1086" title="Source: mischievious">mischievous</span> pranks. A precocious child, one “too wise to live long,” who bothered old folks by +asking awkward questions, was called a “Bukka-gwidden,” as well as a poor simple, +innocent, harmlessly insane person, or near to it. <span class="pageNum" id="pb27">[<a href="#pb27">27</a>]</span>My old west-country schoolmaster, of a little more than fifty years ago, often applied +this name to his scholars. +</p> +<p>Persons who have been acquainted with our old droll-tellers know that they gave free +rein to fancy, provided they had an audience to their mind; being well aware that, +for the most part, +</p> +<div class="lgouter"> +<p class="line">“A jest’s prosperity lies in the ear +</p> +<p class="line">Of him that hears it.”</p> +</div> +<p class="first">It is often remarked by strangers that the Cornish don’t understand a joke; but, if +one may judge by the grotesque scenes and adventures of our old stories, that was +not the case in past times, when there was less affectation and Puritanism than at +present. +</p> +<p>Some of the incidents related seem absurd enough, yet, as they may dimly shadow forth +some old belief, it was thought best to give them, for better for worse, as consistency +is not expected in very old stories, such as follow:— +</p> +<p>The housekeeper was confined to her task, as already stated, long before the family +succeeded in getting “Wild Harris” laid. Many ineffectual attempts were made, which +only resulted in harm, by raising tempests which destroyed crops on land and life +at sea; besides, after these vain trials of parson’s power, the ghost became more +troublesome, for awhile, than he was before their interference with his walks. +</p> +<p>Fortunately, however, the Rev. Mr. Polkinghorne, of St. Ives, acquired the virtue +whereby he became the most powerful exorcist and “spirit-queller” west of Hayle. +</p> +<p>From the little that is known of this gentleman, one may infer that he wasn’t, by +any means, such as would now be styled a “pious character.” He is said to have been +the boldest fox-hunter of these parts, but he would never chase a hare; any attempt +to kill one would make him swear like a trooper. He kept many of these innocent animals—the +hares—running about his house like cats; foolish people said they were the parson’s +familiar spirits or witches he found wandering in that shape. He was a capital hurler, +and encouraged all kinds of manly games, as he said they produced a cordial “one and +all” sort of feeling between high and low. The parson was mostly accompanied by his +horse and dog, which both followed him. When he stopped to chat, Hector, his horse, +came up and rested his head on his master’s shoulder, as if desirous of hearing the +news too. If he called at a house, both his attendants waited at the door, his horse +never requiring to be held. He made long journeys with his steed walking alongside +or behind him, the bridle-rein passed round its neck and the stirrups thrown across +the saddle. Wonderful stories are also told about the high hedges and rocky ground +that the parson’s horse would take him safely over, when after the hounds; and how +the birds, which <span class="pageNum" id="pb28">[<a href="#pb28">28</a>]</span>nestled undisturbed in his garden, and other dumb creatures seemed to regard him as +one of themselves. +</p> +<p>On being requested to do his utmost in order that “Wild Harris’s” ghost might rest +in peace, or be kept away from Kenegie, the reverend gentleman replied that he hoped +to succeed if it were in the power of man to effect it. +</p> +<p>Other clergymen, hearing of what was about to be attempted, expressed a wish to be +present at the proceedings. Mr. Polkinghorne replied that he neither required their +assistance nor desired their presence, yet, any of his reverend brethren might please +themselves for what he cared. Moreover, he charged them that, if they came to Kenegie +on the appointed night, not to intermeddle in any way, whatever might happen. +</p> +<p>A night in the latter end of harvest was appointed for this arduous undertaking. Several +clergymen being anxious to see how the renowned spirit-queller would act with a ghost +that had baffled so many of them, about an hour before midnight four from the westward +of Penzance, a young curate of St. Hellar (St. Hilary), and another from some parish +over that way, arrived at Kenegie, and waited a long while near the gate, expecting +Mr. Polkinghorne. At the turn of night, a terrific storm came on, and the six parsons, +drenched to their skins, took refuge in the summer-house. Candles had been lit in +the upper room of this building, as it was understood that the spirit-quelling operations +would be performed there. They waited long, but neither Polkinghorne nor Harris’s +ghost appearing, the curate of St. Hellar—impatient of inaction—took from his breast +a book, and read therefrom some conjuring formulas, by way of practice, or for mere +pastime. As he read, a crashing thunder-clap burst over the building, shook it to +its foundations, and broke open the window. The parsons fell on the floor, as if stunned, +and on opening their eyes, after being almost blinded by lightning, they beheld near +the open door a crowd of “Bukka-dhu” grinning at them, and then partially disappear +in a misty vapour, to be succeeded by others, who all made ugly faces and contemptuous +or threatening gestures. “It was enough to make the parsons swear,” if they hadn’t +been so frightened, to see how these jeering “Bukkas” mocked them. +</p> +<p>The reverend gentlemen crawled to the window and looked out, to avoid the sight of +such ugly spectres, and to get fresh air,—that in the room smelt worse than the fumes +of brimstone. Presently, an icy shiver ran through them, and they felt as if something +awful had entered the room. On glancing round, they beheld the apparition of a man +standing with his back to the fireplace, and looking intently towards the opposite +wall. His eyes never winked nor turned away, but seemed to gaze on something beyond +the blank wall. He wore a long black gown or loose coat which <span class="pageNum" id="pb29">[<a href="#pb29">29</a>]</span>reached the floor; his face appeared sad and wan, under a sable cap, garnished with +a plume and lace. He seemed unconscious of either the black spirits’ or parsons’ presence. +Over a while, he turned slowly round, advanced towards the window, with a frowning +countenance, which showed the parsons that he regarded them as intruders; and they, +poor men, trembling in every limb, with hair on end, pressed each other into the open +window, intending to drop themselves to the ground, and risk broken bones and an ugly +“qualk” (concussion), for they were most of them fat and heavy. +</p> +<p>Meanwhile, scores of “Bukkas” continued to hover behind the ghost, grimmacing as if +they enjoyed the parsons’ distress. Every minute seemed an hour to the terrified gentlemen; +but, as some of them got their legs out through the casement, the tread of heavy boots +was heard on the stone stairs, and Polkinghorne bounced into the room, when the ghost, +turning quickly round, exclaimed, “Now Polkinghorne, that thou art come, I must be +gone!” The conjurer quietly holding out his hand towards the ghost, quietly said “<i lang="la">In nomine Domini</i>, I bid thee stay;” then he turned to the black spirits, made a crack with his hunting-whip, +said, “Avaunt, ye Bukkadhu,” and off they went, at his word, howling and shrieking +louder than the tempest. The ghost stood still; Polkinghorne uttered long words in +an unknown tongue whilst he drew around it, on the sanded floor, with his whip-stick, +a circle and magical signs, with a “five-pointed star” (pentagram) “to lock the circle.” +He continued speaking a long while without pausing, and his words sounded deep and +full, as if, at once, near and afar off, like the “calling of cleaves” and surging +of billows on a long stretch of shore, or thunder echoing around the hills. +</p> +<p>At length the spirit felt the able conjuror’s power, crouched down at his feet, holding +out his hands, as if praying him to desist. +</p> +<p>Mr. Polkinghorne, whilst still saying powerful words, unwound, from around his waist, +a few yards of new hempen “balsh” (cord), leaving much more of it attached. Having +made a loop at the end, he passed it over the ghost’s head and under his arms; then, +addressing him, said, “<i lang="la">In nomine Domini</i>, I bid thee stand up and come with me.” On saying this, he lifted from the floor, +with his whip-stick, the spirit’s skirts, and under them nothing was seen but flaming +fire. +</p> +<p>When Polkinghorne had the spirit standing beside him, with his eyes fixed and limbs +motionless, like one spell-bound, he exclaimed, “Thank the Powers, it’s all right +so far.” +</p> +<p>Casting a glance towards the other parsons, and seeing a book on the floor, he took +it up, opened it, and speaking for the first time to his reverend brethren, said, +“You, too, may thank your lucky stars that I came in the nick of time to save ye from +grievous <span class="pageNum" id="pb30">[<a href="#pb30">30</a>]</span>harm.” Holding it towards the St. Hellar curate, he continued, “This belongs to you, +my weak brother; strange such a book should be in your possession! The penmanship +is beautiful; it must have cost a mint of money, yet it is worse than useless,—nay, +it’s perilous to such as you. By good luck, you read what merely brought hither silly +‘Bukkas’; one can’t properly call them demons, though no others were known here in +old times; they now mostly keep to old ruined castles, ‘crellas,’ and ‘fougoes,’ yet +they are always abroad in such a night as this. But, if you had chanced to have pronounced +a word, that you don’t understand, on the next leaf, you would have called hither +such malignant fiends, flying in the tempest this awful night, as would have torn +ye limb from limb, or have carried ye away bodily. Perhaps, becoming tired, they might +have fixed ye on St. Hellar steeple. For my part, I wish you were there, lest a greater +evil befall ye this night. +</p> +<p>“You ought to have known, as any old ‘pellars’ (conjurors) would have told ye, if +you had deigned to talk with such without preaching to them, that the secret of secrets, +the unwritten words which make this book of use, are the names of powerful and benevolent +spirits, by whose aid fiends are expelled. These secret names, by which alone they +may be invoked, are only taught, by word of mouth, to the few who are initiated, after +long probation, mental and bodily, and a more severe examination, by nine sages, than +the likes of you would ever pass. Many, to their sorrow, have been presumptuous to +make the essay. Sages hold that if these sacred names were written they would lose +their magic power. +</p> +<p>“The mystic signs, necessary for obtaining mastery over some spirits, are only traced +in sand, or other substance from which they are readily effaced when those deemed +worthy have this knowledge imparted. Not so very long ago, the learned in occult science +met, at stated times, on the lonely downs, and at the same places in which sages were +wont to confer in days of yore for the examination of such as sought admission into +their fraternity, and for the preservation of their mystic lore. Novices were principally +examined as to their proficiency in the science of extension, and in making such reckonings +as are required for constructing a planetary scheme at any given time. Not that these +sciences had much connection with the more mysterious subjects treated of in this +manuscript; but, it was justly considered that the person having a mind capable of +comprehending geometrical problems, and of making abstruse astrological calculations, +was worthy to be admitted into the brotherhood of sages, and, in time, to their higher +mysteries.” +</p> +<p>After a pause, in looking sadly at the ghost, who seemed to listen with attention, +he continued, addressing the gentlemen of <span class="pageNum" id="pb31">[<a href="#pb31">31</a>]</span>St. Hellar, “I suppose you have heard the old saying, ‘Women and fools can rise devils, +but it takes wise men to lay them.’ Indeed, tradition says that, in ancient times, +fair young witches first obtained this dread knowledge from their demon lovers, to +summon them whenever they desired; old hags soon pried into the secret—as they will +into all kinds of deviltry,—and quickly communicated from one to another, until witches +became numerous in all Christian lands; thousands of them were burnt as a warning, +but their burning didn’t deter others from the like evil practices. +</p> +<p>“The demons became disgusted of witches continually crying after them, to wreck their +vengeance on innocent man and beast, and did their best to evade them. Much more may +be said on the subject, but time presses. I have still arduous work to perform, so +only another word, my over-curious brother,—burn this book of magic in the first convenient +fire.” +</p> +<p>Saying that, he cast down the book; spoke a few words, which the others didn’t understand; +drew his foot over a mystic sign that “locked” the charmed circle; and, turning towards +the spirit, said, “<i lang="la">In nomine Domini</i>, come thou with me,” and “Wild Harris’s” ghost was led away, quiet as a lamb. +</p> +<p>Mr. Polkinghorne, having reached the outer gate, took his horse, which he had left +there. The poor beast trembled, though this ghost was not the first, by many, that +had been near it. Having mounted, he gave the ghost more rope, and bade him keep farther +from Hector. A minute afterwards the four west-country parsons, without as much as +saying, “I wish’e well, till we meet again,” took down hill as fast as their horses +could “lay feet to ground;” it was “the devil take the hindmost” with them. +</p> +<p>In passing up Kenegie lane, the parson’s horse was very “fractious;” it jumped from +side to side, tried to leap over hedges, and screeched like a child; yet it became +pretty quiet at last, when the spirit kept off to the end of his tether. Few bleaker +places are to be found than the old road to St. Ives, passing over Kenegie downs. +When they got there, the wind seemed to beat on them from all points at once; rain +and thunder never ceased; the Castle-hill seemed all ablaze with lightning; at times, +too, when a more violent blast than usual whirled around them, clouds of fiends hovered +over them like foul birds of prey; the sky was pitch black, and demons were only seen +by the forked lightning that burst from their midst. The ghost, as if seeking protection, +came nearer the parson; then his horse’s terror became painful to witness, until a +few magical words and a crack of his whip sent the devils howling away, and the ghost +to the end of his rope. At last they came within a stone’s cast of a few dwellings +called Castle-gate, and leaving the highway took a path on the left that wound up +the hill to Castle-an-dinas. +<span class="pageNum" id="pb32">[<a href="#pb32">32</a>]</span></p> +<p>We leave them for awhile to look after St. Hellar curate and his friend. +</p> +<p>One might think that the two parsons from eastward would have taken their nearest +way home, over Market-jew-green; but no, St. Hellar curate thought he would rather +go many miles out of his way than miss this opportunity of seeing a spirit put to +rest, and his friend was afraid to go home alone; so they both started after the ghost-layer, +keeping sufficiently near to see him on horse-back, leading the spirit, as they ascended +the hill. The lightning was almost continuous, otherwise the night was very dark. +On reaching the open downs, however, they found it impossible to keep their saddles, +even by holding on with both hands to their horses’ manes. Their hats were blown away, +and their cloaks flying from their necks like sails in a hurricane rent from the yards. +They alighted and trudged along, in single file, dragging their unwilling steeds behind +them, for the horses wanted to take their accustomed road home, and <span class="corr" id="xd33e1147" title="Source: did’nt">didn’t</span> like the ghostly company ahead. +</p> +<p>When Mr. Polkinghorne reached the hamlet, called Castle-gate, and entered a narrow +lane leading up to Castle-an-dinas, they were so far behind as not to see his departure +from the highroad; and, on coming near the lonely cottages, decided to stay there, +if they could find shelter; but, on a closer view, the dwellings appeared to be deserted; +the thatch was stripped from their roofs, leaving bare rafters on all but one of them. +</p> +<p>On approaching that dwelling, they heard Mr. Polkinghorne’s Hector neigh from the +downs; their horses replied, and there was more whinnying from Hector, which showed +the direction taken, and set St. Hellar parson all agog, to follow the ghost-layer. +As they crossed the road and paused a moment, a whirlwind passed over the house, where +they thought of seeking shelter, and took up a bundle of spars (small rods, pointed +at both ends, and used for securing the thatch) which a thatcher, who had been repairing +the roof, had left there, pinned to the work with a broach, that he might find them +to hand when he continued his thatching. The bundle being taken high up and whirled +about, its bind broke, and one of the devil-directed spars pierced St. Hellar curate’s +side, just above his pin-bone, (hip-joint) like an arrow shot from a bow. He fell +on the ground like as if killed, and his companion, in drawing the spar out of his +friend’s side, had his hand burnt, just as if he had grasped red-hot iron. +</p> +<p>Presently, the black clouds rolled away westward, and the wind lulled. Then the spar-wounded +man was raised by his companion; lifted on to his horse; and laid across the saddle, +like a sack of corn. They went slowly on and reached Nancledery about daybreak. Having +rested a few hours at the Mill, it was found that <span class="pageNum" id="pb33">[<a href="#pb33">33</a>]</span>the St. Hellar curate was still unable to sit on horseback, and he was taken home +in a cart. +</p> +<p>The reverend gentleman was, ever after, lame; and bore to his grave marks of his spar-shot +wound; that’s the last we heard of him. +</p> +<p>We now return to Mr. Polkinghorne. At the time of this ghost-laying there were, around +the Castle-hill, extensive tracts of open heath, which are now enclosed; and the highway +is skirted by hedges, where it was then open downs, there being several more small +dwellings built at Castle-gate. +</p> +<p>The parson’s Hector was well acquainted with the lay of the country all around, as +he had often crossed it following the hounds; and, after scrambling through the narrow +lane, tried his utmost to take away down over the moorland to a smith’s shop in Halangove, +where he had often been shod. By a firm hand on the bridle-rein his master kept him +up-hill for a furlong or so, when they came to an old gurgie (ruined hedge) that once +enclosed a fold. On one side there was a bowjey (cattle or sheep-house). A dwelling +and outhouses have since been built, and a few quillets (small fields) enclosed near +this spot. Mr. Polkinghorne alighted, turned his horse into the old “shelter,” and +bade the ghost approach. +</p> +<p>They walked on in silence until they came to the Castle’s outer enclosure, which screened +them from the blast. Then the reverend gentleman said, “Now that we are alone, and +not likely to suffer any more intrusion, tell me, my unhappy brother, what it is that +disturbs thy rest? Be assured, my desire is to procure thee peace.” +</p> +<p>The spirit replied to the effect that, at the time of his decease, he was much troubled, +because he owed several sums to work-people and others, fearing they <span class="corr" id="xd33e1163" title="Source: would’nt">wouldn’t</span> be paid by his successor. Moreover, he related how he had walked about for years, +hoping some honest body would speak to him; how the longer he was left unspoken to +the more uneasy and troublesome he became; and when his relations brought the parsons +to lay him, who were unqualified for that office, he was much exasperated, and he +determined never to leave Kenegie. +</p> +<p>“Yet, it gave me some pleasure,” said the ghost, “to make those who came and read +long curses, as if exorcising an evil spirit to “cut and run” and nevermore return, +by only advancing a step towards them. Though spirits seldom speak until first addressed, +I couldn’t help exclaiming, as I did, and wished to escape when you surprised me by +entering the summer-house; but I am now satisfied to be in your power, trusting you +will procure me rest.” +</p> +<p>“Be assured, my son,” replied the parson, “that I will see all thy debts paid.” +</p> +<p>“That will relieve me of much,” said the spirit, “yet there are other subjects that +trouble me; but you must promise me never to divulge them, ere I make a clean breast +of them.” +<span class="pageNum" id="pb34">[<a href="#pb34">34</a>]</span></p> +<p>“My profession obliges secrecy in such cases,” replied his adviser, “therefore speak +on without reserve.” +</p> +<p>The poor ghost having unburthened himself, Mr. Polkinghorne gave him words of comfort, +and concluded by saying, “think no more about your little faults and failings, for +if, when in mortal life, you had more of what we call the devil in ye, you would have +overcome your opponents, and much grief would have been spared to yourself and others. +</p> +<p>“Besides, my son,” continued he, “from your simple, honest, and confiding disposition, +you were unable to cope with sly, mercenary hirelings.” +</p> +<p>Then the parson took the cord off, saying, “This is no longer required to protect +ye from evil spirits, for they have all departed with the tempest they raised, and +the sky is now serene.” +</p> +<p>As they ascended the hill the moon shone bright on the old fort’s inner enclosing +wall, which was then almost intact. The upper enclosure is nearly oval in outline, +and they entered it at its south-eastern end. Stopping a minute on the hill-top, Mr. +Polkinghorne said to the ghost, “There is no cure for a troubled spirit equal to constant +employment, and I shall allot you an easy task, which, with time and patience, will +procure ye repose; but I must first make the whole of this enclosure secure against +infernal spirits.” +</p> +<p>Mr. Polkinghorne then used a form of exorcism, which, as far as it could be understood +by the old story-teller’s account, was something like the following: +</p> +<p>Having placed the ghost on his right hand side, he passed with him three times around +the enclosed hill-top, going from east to west, or with the sun, and keeping close +to the wall. At the first round, he merely counted the number of paces; at the next, +he uttered, in some ancient eastern tongue, such exorcisms and adjurations as serve +to expel infernal spirits; at the last circuit, he made, near the bounding wall, twelve +mystic signs, at equal distances. He then passed through the middle of the ground +to its north-western end, “cutting the air” with his whip, and tracing on the earth +more magical figures. Being arrived at the end opposite the entrance, he drew a line +with his whip stick, from a large stone in the wall, on one side, to another opposite, +and told the spirit to remember them as bound-stones. The space thus marked off might +be three or four “laces” of pretty even grass-covered ground, with a few furze bushes +and large stones scattered over it. +</p> +<p>The reverend gentleman rested a while on the ruined wall, which rose some ten feet +above a surrounding foss, and three or four from the inner ground. +</p> +<p>“Now, my son,” said he, turning towards the ghost, who stood near, “all within the +Castle’s upper walls is as safe for ye as consecrated ground; and here is your task, +which is merely to count <span class="pageNum" id="pb35">[<a href="#pb35">35</a>]</span>the blades of grass on this small space, bounded by the wall and a straight line from +stone to stone, that you can always renew or find. +</p> +<p>“You must reckon them nine times, to be sure that you have counted right; you needn’t +set about it till I leave, there’s plenty of time before ye. +</p> +<p>“Whilst at your work, banish from your thoughts all remembrance of past griefs, as +far as possible, by thinking of pleasant subjects. There is nothing better for this +purpose than the recollection of such old world stories as delighted our innocent +childhood, and please us in mature age.” +</p> +<p>The spirit looked disconcerted and said something—the old tinner didn’t know his words +exactly,—to intimate that he thought the assigned task a vain one, as it produced +nothing of lasting use. He would rather be employed in repairing the Castle walls, +or some such job. +</p> +<p>“No, my dear son,” replied the parson, “it would never do for ye to be employed on +anything that would be visible to human eyes; the unusual occurrence would draw hither +such crowds of gazers as would greatly incommode ye. No more need ye trouble yourself +on the score of its mere use, in your sense; for if restless mortals employed themselves +solely in such works of utility as you mean, the greater part of them would find nothing +to do, and be more miserable than ghosts unlaid.” +</p> +<p>The poor ghost assented to the greater part of what the parson said, and the reverend +gentleman resumed his discourse, which was enough of itself to “put spirits to rest” +one might think. +</p> +<p>“Believe me, gentle spirit,” said he, “the world is just as much a show as our old +Christmas ‘guise-dance’ of St. George; for a great number pass their lives in doing +battle with imaginary dragons; others in racing about on their hobby-horses, to the +great annoyance of quiet folks. There are numerous doctors, too, both spiritual and +physical, for ever vaunting of their <span class="corr" id="xd33e1192" title="Source: “">‘</span>little bottles of elecampane,<span class="corr" id="xd33e1195" title="Not in source">’</span> as sovereign cures for all ills but their own; whilst the motley crowd is bedizened +in fantastic rags and tinsel, just like ‘guiseards.’ Indeed, except honest husbandmen, +simple artisans, and a few others, the rest might just as well pass their time in +spinning ropes of sand, counting blades of grass, or in any other ghostly employment, +for all the good they do, unless it be to tranquilize their restless minds.” +</p> +<p>The ghost made no reply, but seemed “all down in the mouth,” which expression of sadness +the parson remarked, and said, “Don’t ye be out of heart, brother, but have patience, +and you will find that, with constant work, years will pass away like a summer’s day. +Then you will wonder how your mortal crosses ever had the power to trouble ye. All +remembrance of them will fade like a dream, and you will rest in peace. +<span class="pageNum" id="pb36">[<a href="#pb36">36</a>]</span></p> +<p>“When you have a mind to pause awhile—say after each time of counting,—you can go +around the hill-top and enjoy the extensive prospect, as all within this higher rampart +is a charmed circle for ye, where fiends dare not enter. There are other pleasant +sights which you will often behold; for the small-people<span id="xd33e1202"></span> (fairies) still keep to the Castle-hill and hold their dances and fairs, of summer +nights, within these ramparts. On May-day, in the morning, they are frequently seen +around the spring, just below, or going up and down the steps which lead to it, by +young men and maidens who come at early dawn to clean out the Castle-well, and to +deck it with green boughs and blossoming May, as is their wont. These gay beings are +the spirits of old inhabitants who dwelt—it may be thousands of years ago—in the ‘Crellas,’ +at Chysauster. +</p> +<p>“There is something more which will serve to divert ye; people from far and near often +come here to enjoy the charming prospect; you may learn by their talk what is going +on in the country round, if you care to hear anything about it. Perhaps some of the +neighbours may speak of you and your family, and say things neither pleasant nor true; +but let me beg of ye, however much you may be vexed to hear their slander, for goodness +sake, don’t ye contradict them, nor show yourself; for your apparition, in its rich +but antiquated garb, would frighten poor weak-minded mortals into fits.” +</p> +<p>The poor ghost seemed “dumbfoundered,” and said not a word: so the parson went on +as if in his pulpit. At length he stood up and said, hastily, “One might mention more +of what will make your abode pleasant, but it’s high time for you to become invisible +and for me to leave ye. The cocks will soon be crowing; see how fast the light increases +on Carn Marth, Carn Brea, and other noble hills that were giants’ dwelling places +in days of yore, and stand out against the grey sky like sentinels over this favoured +Western Land.” +</p> +<p>The parson, pointing to the eastern sky, told the spirit to put off his form. In a +minute or so the apparition became indistinct, and faded gradually away, like a thin +wreath of smoke dissolving in air. +</p> +<p>Mr. Polkinghorne said farewell, and, as he turned to leave the spirit to his task, +he heard a hollow voice say, “Good friend, do thou remember me, and visit me again.” +</p> +<p>When the reverend gentleman entered the old “bowjey,” the joy that his horse showed +at his approach was like recalling him from death to life. +</p> +<p>As Mr. Polkinghorne slowly wended his way homeward, he was grieved to see the wreck +made by the preceding night’s tempest. In Nancledry, low-lying as it is, dwellings +were unroofed, and trees, which had withstood the storms of centuries were all <span class="pageNum" id="pb37">[<a href="#pb37">37</a>]</span>uprooted. On higher ground “stones were blown out of hedges,” arish mows laid low, +and the corn whirled around fields. +</p> +<p>About sunrise, St. Ives folks, standing at their doors, were surprised to see their +beloved parson, coming down the <span class="corr" id="xd33e1215" title="Source: Stenack">Stennack</span>, looking so sad and weary, and that he didn’t give them “the time of day” (a greeting +suitable to the time, as good morning, &c.,) with his accustomed cheerful tone and +pleasant smile. Neither Mr. Polkinghorne nor his steed were again seen in the street +for several days after their ghostly night’s work. +</p> +</div> +<div class="footnotes"> +<hr class="fnsep"> +<div class="footnote-body"> +<div class="fndiv" id="xd33e1068"> +<p class="footnote"><span class="fnlabel"><a class="noteRef" href="#xd33e1068src" title="Return to note 1 in text.">1</a></span> See the Tinner, page <a href="#pb21">21</a>. <a class="fnarrow" href="#xd33e1068src" title="Return to note 1 in text.">↑</a></p> +</div> +</div> +</div> +</div> +<div id="ch6" class="div1 chapter"><span class="pageNum">[<a title="Go to the table of contents" href="#xd33e204">Contents</a>]</span><div class="divHead"> +<h2 class="main">CORNISH CASTLES.</h2> +</div> +<div class="divBody"> +<p class="first">It is not generally known to strangers that what are called Castles in Cornwall are +little more than simple entrenchments, consisting of large and small stones built +up about ten or twelve feet high and held together by their own weight, without any +cement. These embankments are surrounded by a ditch, formed by excavating the soil +which fills the ramparts. A well is always found within the Castle’s enclosure. +</p> +<p>Traditions, which have been handed down by old stationary folks, such as freeholding +farmers—whose families have long dwelt near these primitive strongholds—say that they +were constructed by the ancient inhabitants, as places of refuge where their cattle +and other property might be protected from the “red-haired Danes,” who frequently +marauded the country in days of yore. Near the outer entrenchment of Treen Dinas stood +a barn, where there is now a dwelling called Caer Keis. This barn was inconveniently +situated for farming purposes, and old proprietors of Treen held that it was used +in old times for storing hay and corn, which might be wanted for cattle when they +were placed in the Castle to be safe from northern pirates who were accustomed to +land at Parcurno,—then free from sand. +</p> +<p>It is a matter of regret that such interesting examples of primitive fortifications, +as Castle-an-Dinas and others, should have been almost destroyed of late years, when +they have been resorted to as to quarries, and the stones removed for building huts +and hedges. +</p> +<p>Some years ago, a bad example was shown by the proprietor of Trazza, who was lord +of the land on which Castle-an-Dinas stands, by his having a good portion of the inner +entrenchment demolished at its south-eastern end, and the stones taken to construct, +on the brow of the hill, a nondescript object, which looks best at a distance. +</p> +<p>In looking at the few fragments of “dry walling” that remain, <span class="pageNum" id="pb38">[<a href="#pb38">38</a>]</span>one can but admire the thoughtful way in which the stones were laid—perhaps thousands +of years ago—so as to “break the joints” and bind each other. The Castle Well, near +the summit of the hill, used to be regarded as one of the curiosities of this old +fort. The water was reached by descending ten or a dozen steps when the spring was +low. +</p> +<p>From the upper entrenchment may be surveyed one of the most extensive and varied prospects +west of Carn Brea. The rugged brown hills on the northern side offer a striking contrast +to the beautiful bay and rich land, cultivated almost to the water’s edge, on the +other side. Eastward, the view is only bounded by hills which rise beyond St. Austell +and stretch northward, Roughtor and Brownwhilly being in this range. +</p> +<p>Looking westward the hills of Sancreed and St. Just, hide the Land’s End; yet, with +a clear atmosphere, Scilly Isles may be descryed, on the horizon’s verge, like clouds +resting on the ocean. +</p> +<p>The fine tower of Buryan Church is a very conspicuous object, and it reminds one that +near it, in Buryan parish, are the ancestral, but forsaken, homes of some who have +made their mark in England’s history; and of others whose names live in romance and +hearthside story, as Boscawen, Noy, Tresillian, Vivian, Le Velis, &c. +</p> +<p>The more immediate objects in the landscape are familiar to us all, yet the kind of +bird’s-eye view obtained from this elevated site gives a novel appearance to the scene +scarcely to be expected. +</p> +<p>One may find a pleasant walk from Penzance to Castle-an-Dinas, nearly all the way +through fields, by taking the Churchway path from Gulval to Angarrack; thence across +two or three small fields the heath-covered hill is reached, and one is soon on its +summit. +</p> +<p></p> +<div class="figure p038width"><img src="images/p038.png" alt="Two piskies and a rabbit." width="347" height="197"></div><p> +<span class="pageNum" id="pb39">[<a href="#pb39">39</a>]</span></p> +</div> +</div> +<div id="ch7" class="div1 chapter"><span class="pageNum">[<a title="Go to the table of contents" href="#xd33e210">Contents</a>]</span><div class="divHead"> +<h2 class="main">THE HAUNTED LAWYER.</h2> +</div> +<div class="divBody"> +<p class="first">A little while ago an aged native of Gulval spoke of another ghost that haunted Kenegie, +but only for a short time. Whether it was the “spirit” of a Harris or an Arundel he +couldn’t say, because it was so long past, but it was all in the same family; for +a Harris, he believed, changed his name for that of Arundel; then, over a generation +or two, the family resumed their former name. People round about always called them +Harrises, and this one was spoken of as the proud squire of Kenegie. He always rode +a high horse. If he met people in the narrow lanes (and there were but few broad ones +in his time) they had to get out of his way, by leaping hedges sometimes, else he’d +ride over them. +</p> +<p>They say that the only person who wouldn’t make way for him was an old Rogers of Treassowe. +On Castle Downs there was a wide piece of ground left for horse-tracks where the road +to St. Ives passed, so that when one path was too much worn another might be taken, +on the turf. In some places the principal paths were divided by rocks or brakes of +furze; and in a little way the branches united again, or crossed others, in a bewildering +maze. ’Tis said that if Rogers, when on a heavy horse, could make out at a little +distance, the track which would lead to that on which Harris rode, he would be sure +to take it; if a deep one all the better; and so they would both ride up, “full butt,” +against each other, like Æsop’s two goats crossing the brook on a plank, and either +have a “scruff” or a slashing fight with their whips. Yet they were good friends, +at times; hunted together over each other’s lands; and visited one another on ceremonial +occasions. +</p> +<p>This burly gentleman-farmer of Treassowe, however, has nothing to do with the story +about to be told; yet thoughts of him occur in connection with the proud Harris from +his being so often spoken of as his opponent. He was, also, a fair sample of “Ludgvan +Hurlers” of old, who were noted as sturdy “sticklers” for their rights, with a trifle +more from those inclined to domineer, as well as for their devotion to the manly game +which procured them their honourable nickname—still retained, though for many years +past they had never strengthened their muscles and minds as they were wont to do in +days of yore, by hurling their silver ball, for miles, <span class="pageNum" id="pb40">[<a href="#pb40">40</a>]</span>forward and backward along Market Jew Green, then a common of great extent, or away +inland “to the country.” The game on the Green was called Hurling to the Goal. +</p> +<p>Now, when Harris the proud was on his deathbed he sent a man to Penzance for a lawyer, +because he wanted to make an addition to his will. “Take the fleetest horse in my +stable,” said he to his servant, “ride for thy life,—for thy life; stop not for anything +in thy road; tell him to take thy horse and hasten away if his own be unsaddled.” +</p> +<p>On a chest, near the squire’s bed, sat his son John, rocking himself to and fro, and +crying bitterly. “What art thou crying for, my son?” asked his father. “Because you +are going to die, father,” replied the boy. “Oh, what shall I do, what shall I do?” +And he went on crying more and more. “Stop crying, my son,” said his father, “thou +wilt do very well, for I am going to give thee Trengwainton; and Castle Horneck, to +look at; don’t cry any more, my son, for I’m very weak and want to sleep, my son.” +</p> +<p>The lawyer having arrived at the squire’s bedside, and writing materials being ready, +asked what must be added to the will? The squire, when propped up with pillows, gasped +out, “I wish, I wish,” several times, until he became exhausted, and fell back in +bed. After resting awhile he made signs to be raised again, and then only repeated +the same words, “I wish, I wish,” until the lawyer told him to stop a moment and then +say what it was that he wanted to have written. “That my son John shall have Trengwainton,” +gasped the dying man. +</p> +<p>The lawyer, who had also been the squire’s steward for a long time, was quite confounded. +In a minute or two he said, “I don’t know what you mean; how can your son have Trengwainton? +The place doesn’t belong to you, I can’t understand ’e at all.<span class="corr" id="xd33e1252" title="Not in source">”</span> The little blood in Harris’s body seemed to rush into his face and turn blue; then +he became pale, and cried, as hard as he was able, “Thou fool of a lawyer not to know +how, when”——unable to say any more he fell back in bed, more exhausted than before. +</p> +<p>Then he began twitching at the bedclothes, and kept on murmuring “I wish, I wish,” +lower and lower, and slower and slower, until he breathed his last, with the words +on his lips. +</p> +<p>The lawyer returned homeward, feeling very sad and much perplexed. He and the deceased +had been constant friends from their boyhood. Of late years his connection with Harris +was mainly as steward of his estate, and in that character we have to speak of him. +The late squire had undertaken many improvements of his farm, then in progress, as +well as alterations in his premises by his advice; and the steward took just as much +interest in his friend’s family and estate as if they had been his own. He was, also, +the only solicitor of note then in Penzance. People of that <span class="pageNum" id="pb41">[<a href="#pb41">41</a>]</span>time did not run for legal advice to settle trifling matters in dispute; they were +often a law unto themselves, rough and ready, as well as warm-hearted; though far +less hypocritical then than now. +</p> +<p>The unsatisfied dead man was laid in the family vault, when the customary time for +keeping people of his quality above ground had expired. On the night of his funeral, +towards the morning, doleful sounds were heard proceeding from the late squire’s bedroom, +with plaintive cries of “I wish, I wish,” followed by agonising moans and groans. +</p> +<p>Next day the steward came over to arrange some business that required his presence +on the place; old greyheaded servants of the family soon told him of the ghostly sounds +heard in the ancient mansion, only a few hours past. The strong-minded man of law +ridiculed them, and said it was only their fearful fancies, followed by disturbing +dreams, which had caused all their dread of their old master’s return. The old servants +followed the lawyer to the outer gate, begging him to stay at the house over night. +“No, no, I’ve other fish to fry,” replied he, “go’e to rest before you’re all tipsy, +and let the squire come if he will or can.” +</p> +<p>The steward proceeded slowly down the hill, thinking of his deceased friend. As he +passed a churchway stile, a little below the principal entrance gate, a gentleman +came over and walked close beside him, keeping pace with his horse. Neither spoke. +The steward didn’t even give the customary greeting of “Good night,” so usual here +when people meet in country lanes. The strange gentleman’s broad brimmed hat and drooping +plume so shaded his face that his features could not be distinctly seen; but his tall +figure was attired in a dress precisely like that which had been usually worn by Harris, +and which was of too grand a mode for anybody else in the immediate neighbourhood. +The horse showed signs of great terror by rubbing his rider against the hedge, and +by trying to run off at a gallop; yet, however the steed altered his paces, the stranger +kept alongside, with such an easy motion as if he floated in air, until, passing the +stream which flows to Ponsandane, when this strange companion disappeared,—there was +no knowing whither. +</p> +<p>Having crossed the water, and the road ascending for a little way, the rider let his +steed take its course; then it went off at a furious rate, and only ceased its race +when near the watering-trough at the top of Market-jew Street, opposite the “Star” +Inn. After slaking its thirst, it went down a lane, now built on, and called New Street, +which led to a yard, stable, and garden, at the back of the lawyer’s house, on the +eastern side of Chapel Street (formerly called Our Lady Street) and a little above +the end of Vounder Ver. +</p> +<p>It is not known whether the lawyer surmised or not that the <span class="pageNum" id="pb42">[<a href="#pb42">42</a>]</span>companion of his ride down Kenegie Hill was his late friend’s ghost, which it was: +for he, like most of his profession, could keep his own counsel, especially in doubtful +cases. +</p> +<p>Next day, however, when he was expected by the family at Kenegie to settle such business +as could only be arranged with his help, he begged for delay, on the plea of illness, +and took to his bed, which he did not quit for some days. +</p> +<p>Night was dreaded in the old mansion at Kenegie. Even the decline of day made its +inmates shudder with apprehensive terror. The slamming of doors, rattling of furniture, +and other disturbances commenced earlier and continued later into the morning than +they did at first; and the spirit’s cries of “I wish, I wish,” seemed to be uttered +in anger rather than in grief. During all the family’s trouble the steward was unable, +or unwilling, to come near them. Yet, almost daily, one or other of Harris’s old servants +came in to enquire after the lawyer’s health, and told his family how their late master’s +ghost had been seen and heard before candle-lighting time in a court behind the house; +and that it was intended, over a few nights, to try what “spirit-quellers,” as ghost-layers +were called, could do in order to give the troubled spirit rest. +</p> +<p>The steward was still far from well, when one night, about a week after his last visit +to Kenegie, and just after he heard an eight-day clock on his stair-landing strike +two, whilst he was listening for the town-clock, five minutes slower than his own, +he heard a loud knocking at his front door. Shortly afterwards his housekeeper came +to his bedroom door, and asked, “Are <span class="corr" title="Source: e">’e</span> waking, master?” Having spoken to her, she said, “There’s an old clergyman, from +over Hayle way, below; I’ve seen him here before; he must speak with you, he says: +he has a message of the utmost importance to you.” The steward told her to strike +a light and show the parson up at once, as he was an old acquaintance who didn’t stand +on ceremony with him. +</p> +<p>The old dame sat on her three-legged stool, hammering away with flint and steel, in +making vain endeavours to kindle the tinder, which wasn’t touched by a spark, for +the box had overturned in her lap without her knowing it; her skirts being huddled +on in a hurry she hardly knew where to find her knees to steady the tinder-box between +them. There was a glimmer of light coming through the diamond-shaped lead lights from +a ghostly-looking bit of a morning moon, when the venerable gentleman told her to +take no more trouble; as he was well acquainted with the house and her master he could +find the way to his room without a candle and alone; his business was too urgent for +any farther delay. +</p> +<p>The reverend gentleman, on entering the lawyer’s bedroom, drew back the window curtains, +and said, whilst shaking hands, “I hope to be excused for calling at this unseasonable +hour on <span class="pageNum" id="pb43">[<a href="#pb43">43</a>]</span>account of the message I bring; the importance of which, to you, will be best understood +when I tell ye of this night’s occurrences.” Now, the lawyer was impatient to learn +this urgent business, but it would seem as if the parson were in no hurry—such good +men take things easy. For he went to the window, opened a casement, and looked out, +as if to recollect his thoughts. It was too obscure then for him to enjoy the extensive +prospect, as seen by day—only bounded by distant eastern hills. Returning to the lawyer’s +bedside, the reverend gentleman seated himself and continued thus:—“I calculate, by +the stars now rising, as well as by the altitude attained by others, that it is now +two hours and forty-five minutes since I, with four other clergymen of our neighbourhood, +by a request of the deceased squire’s family, assembled on the Bowling Green, at Kenegie, +in order to give rest to the unquiet spirit which quitted Proud Harris’s mortal tenement +a fortnight since. Having marked on the turf a circle, and placed on its circumference +three lighted candles, to mark the points of an equilateral triangle, within which +a ghost is as safe as in consecrated ground—the devil and his hounds are always on +the watch for vagrant spirits, roaming from churchyards—we formed ourselves in line, +facing south and behind the lights, in order of precedence, my station being at the +right hand of all. Then a reverend gentleman, who, like myself, has much knowledge +of planetary influence and other occult sciences, as well as great ability in laying +obdurate spirits, spoke a form of citation. Not a dozen words of this solemn summons +were uttered when Proud Harris’s ghost, in winding-sheet and shroud came before us, +and, with a frowning countenance and angry gestures, abruptly said, ‘Begone about +your own business, if you have any, for you have none whatever here; and learn, vain +mortals, that I will not leave this place for anything you can do or say, until it +pleaseth me to do so.’ ” “Ah, I see,” said the steward, “it’s the same resolute spirit +still that always animated my deceased friend, for he never liked those of your cloth; +in fact he couldn’t abide to see men feathered all in black and white; he used to +say, ‘They are like Market-jew crows.’ ” “Well, well, let that pass,” replied the +reverend gentleman, “You have not yet heard the matter of importance to you. On my +commencing a powerful form of conjuration the spirit approached me and said, ‘Dear +old friend of my youth, for the sake of those many happy days that we have passed +together in the hunting-field, do thou go from me, and at once, to that accursed lawyer +and steward of mine; tell him that unless he comes here, and that shortly, to mind +his business, I will go to him. Aye, you see that thin rim of the waning moon; if +he be not here, attending to his duty to me and mine, ere that moon be renewed, I +will appear before him when least expected, whether he be in his office, his bed-chamber, +or elsewhere, alone.’ On my <span class="pageNum" id="pb44">[<a href="#pb44">44</a>]</span>assenting to convey his message the ghost vanished, and I at once came hither with +such speed as my three-score and six years permit.” +</p> +<p>The parson paused a moment, but, the lawyer remaining silent, he continued: “I advise +you as a friend, go, as desired, before you are three days older, for by that time +this moon’s diminished horns will have recommenced their growth. As I have now faithfully +delivered the spirit’s message, I bid you adieu, hoping you will have grace to follow +my advice.” +</p> +<p>“I intend going to Kenegie,” replied the lawyer, “before another night comes round. +Stay and take breakfast; you must need rest after such trying work.” +</p> +<p>“No, I must be gone,” said the parson, “though I have neither eaten nor slept since +my leaving Ruan yesterday morn.” +</p> +<p>“Then if you won’t stop, I wish <span class="corr" title="Source: e">’e</span> well,” said the steward, “hoping never more to see ye here with a message from the +dead. Farewell.” +</p> +<p>After this unpleasant interruption to his night’s rest, the steward lay awake and +turned out of bed before his accustomed time of rising, with the intention of going +to Kenegie without delay. Yet, from feeling very much out of order, when partly dressed, +he returned to bed and sent for a medical man. +</p> +<p>The doctor felt the lawyer’s hot forehead and rapidly-throbbing pulse, whilst the +sick man told him that he could neither get tranquil sleep nor take his food with +any appetite. +</p> +<p>“My good friend,” replied the doctor, “you are working yourself to death, in trying +to grapple with your extensive practice. Now, you must not think of entering your +office for a month at least. Go away to the country; when you are able, for the sake +of getting rid of business cares; your clients must have patience until you get well. +If they won’t, let them go to Old Nick for advice. His counsel will please the greater +part of them much better than the advice of an honest attorney.” +</p> +<p>The patient then said, “I am most anxious first to go over and arrange some business +in Kenegie which requires my presence there.” +</p> +<p>“All right,” replied the doctor, “you can do nothing better, when well enough, mind +you, than ride over there daily; but don’t stay long in the house, and say but little +about professional matters. After taking some light refreshment, ride away up to Castle-an-Dinas, +or, at least, as far as the hamlet called Castle Gate, and ride easily forth and back, +over the stretch of level road on that high ground. When there you will breathe the +sweet air of the hills, mingled with ocean’s breezes, which will do you more good +than any amount of drugs. You must, however, take a small dose at once, in order to +procure tranquil sleep. Never mind your appetite, <span class="pageNum" id="pb45">[<a href="#pb45">45</a>]</span>that will return when you are able to take daily rides over the hills, and you will +be able to eat like a horse, as the saying is.” +</p> +<p>The doctor having sent for medicine, and seen his patient take the same, went downstairs, +charged the household to keep still, and on no account to let their master be disturbed +with business callers. “If he should sleep for 24 hours, let him,” said the doctor, +“and I’ll call again shortly.” +</p> +<p>The steward said nothing of his having been accompanied by Harris’s ghost in his ride +down Kenegie Hill, nor of the spirit’s message, well knowing that his medical friend +had no faith in supernatural appearances; and the ailing man himself had but slight +belief in such matters until the evidence of his own eyes, as well as the reverend +gentleman’s words, convinced him, in spite of his reason. +</p> +<p>The “doctor’s stuff” had its desired effect. The steward slept soundly through the +night, and until nearly noon next morning, when he took breakfast in bed, then more +medicine, and slept again. About two o’clock the doctor called and asked the housekeeper +how her master was. “I suppose,” said she, “that he’s going on as well as can be expected, +for he slept well last night, ate a good breakfast for a sick man, and is sleeping +again. A few minutes since I went into his room, and saw his eyes were shut, and didn’t +speak to him, as you told me not to, but I talked a little to myself, and he didn’t +ask me what I was grumbling about, as he mostly does if I speak a few words to, myself. +</p> +<p>“A precious nurse you are,” said the doctor, “can’t you keep your tongue still when +in your master’s room?” +</p> +<p>The lawyer had the same tranquil rest on the following night; got up at his usual +time, and soon after an early dinner, took horse for Kenegie. +</p> +<p>The steward arrived at the old mansion about three or four o’clock. Having stayed +a few hours with the bereaved family, and said all he could to comfort them, he recollected +that there were alterations, or repairs, going on down at the mill, which he ought +to see. The lengthening shadows warned him that it was time for his departure, that +he might see the mill on his way home. Having sent his horse down, by a servant, he +took a pathway which made a short cut thither across some fields. This was always +a favourite walk with him and the late squire, because it afforded delightful views +over land and sea. When on the clear ground, and in sight of Rosemorran, he saw the +sunbeams still shining through a few leafless trees on the hill, but the valley was +all in shadow. On coming to a high-hedged and narrow lane, near the mill, the gentleman +went on slowly, with eyes cast down, musing on times past. Glancing upwards, when +his reverie ended, he beheld, at the distance of ten or a dozen paces, the late squire, +looking as formerly, <span class="pageNum" id="pb46">[<a href="#pb46">46</a>]</span>and slowly approaching him. The steward, though much terrified at first, noticed that +the garb taken by the apparition was, from looped-up hat to silver spurs, exactly +like that which Harris had usually worn when following his hounds. At a glance the +steward saw the same bright and unsullied attire for which the late owner of Kenegie +had been distinguished. There were the same untarnished gold-lace and buttons on his +bright scarlet coat; and the boots, with their tops just touching, without hiding, +the jewelled knee-buckles of his nether garment. Yet, for all this brightness of dress, +the ghostly face, as seen by the terrified man on coming nearer, made his blood run +cold. The eyes were like the unclosed eyes of the dead; and the other features were +pale and motionless as those of a marble image lying on a tomb. The lawyer had heard, +like everybody else here, that one should never turn back from a ghost, but speak, +if only a single word, as a spirit is powerless to impart its wishes till spoken to; +and if long delayed the person is in danger of receiving bodily harm, and will be +haunted to death if he speak not before. The poor man forced himself, as it were, +to advance with his eyes cast down, for he couldn’t bear to see the ghastly countenance. +When near he could only murmur, “What shall I do for <span class="corr" title="Source: e">’e</span>?” +</p> +<p>“I am rejoiced that thou hast come to meet me here, and spoken in time, for on the +morrow I should have gone to thee. The anger I felt at thy delay hath passed; why +shouldst thou fear me, frail mortal that thou art, when, ere long, thou wilt be as +I am, and then seek me with a greater desire to meet me than thou hast now to shun +my company? Besides thou knowest I always liked thee for thy honesty, and thy regard +to me and mine, as well as for thy doing justice to thy poorer clients—as far as unjust +laws and judges would allow thee. Now, with regard to my son John,” continued the +ghost, looking sorrowfully on his faithful steward, “Death, as thou knowest, cut short +my efforts to explain how my wishes were to be accomplished touching Trengwainton. +Thy eyes are cast on earth; dost thou attend to what I say?” +</p> +<p>“I do my best to,” replied the poor steward like one in a waking dream. +</p> +<p>“Well, as thou knowest, there is much money owing to me on the place; no interest +has ever been paid, and more cash is wanted. Do thou supply more and more until the +place be indebted to nearly its value. Our boy John is now about fourteen. Before +he will be of age, foreclose the mortgage, as the place by that time will be burthened +to nearly its full value. If the estate be offered for sale there will be no purchaser; +everyone hereabouts has enough to do to keep the land he has. All landowners here +are much embarrased to hold what they have. Yet if the place be worth anything more +than its <span class="corr" id="xd33e1316" title="Source: encumberance">encumbrance</span>, pay over the balance on putting my son in <span class="pageNum" id="pb47">[<a href="#pb47">47</a>]</span>possession. The management of my family’s property will be entirely on thy hands for +many years, and thou wilt still be my trusty steward. Now understand me clearly, of +a Harris it must never with truth be said that he got his lands unfairly. Mark the +little more I have to say, that I may depart for good, and no more have to revisit +this miserable world. Look up now, that I may know thou attendest to my words, and +learn that unless my wishes be accomplished none of my family, nor of thine, will +be known in this part of the country for half the time they have flourished here, +nor have an inch of land more than their graves occupy. Behold those aged trees which +my forefathers planted. Ere they return to dust our ancient homes will know us no +more, if my last wishes be disregarded.” +</p> +<p>Before the lawyer could reply—if he had anything to say—Harris’s ghost had vanished. +</p> +<p>The servant, who awaited the lawyer at the Mill, became uneasy when it was almost +night and the gentleman had not arrived; knowing him to be unwell and that he was +a man who would never “say die whilst there was a shot in the locker,” as the saying +is (everybody liked the steward for his pluck and kindly disposition.) He rode slowly +up the lane by which he expected the steward to arrive, and, at last found him sitting +on a bank beside the road, seeming all bewildered and stupid, like a person recovering +from a trance or just come out of a fit. The servant roused him up, as he said, but +the steward didn’t speak, even when he mounted his horse, and rode slowly homeward, +with the servant following to his own door, where the doctor was anxiously awaiting +his patient’s return. We heard no more of the good lawyer, but hope he rode out no +more until perfectly recovered. +</p> +<p>Harris’s ghost, satisfied with having told the lawyer how its wishes were to be carried +out, has never more been seen nor heard in Kenegie, from that day to this. +</p> +<p></p> +<div class="figure p047width"><img src="images/p047.png" alt="Piskey with butterfly sitting on flower." width="294" height="158"></div><p> +<span class="pageNum" id="pb48">[<a href="#pb48">48</a>]</span></p> +</div> +</div> +<div id="ch8" class="div1 chapter"><span class="pageNum">[<a title="Go to the table of contents" href="#xd33e216">Contents</a>]</span><div class="divHead"> +<h2 class="main">HALLANTIDE:<br> +OR<br> +A ST. JUST FEAST FIFTY YEARS AGO.</h2> +<div class="epigraph"> +<p class="first">“The Saint’s Feast is kept upon the Dedication Day, by every householder of the parish, +within his own dores, each entertaining such forrayne acquaintance as will not fayle, +when their like turne cometh about, to requite them with the like kindness.”—Carew’s +<i>Survey of Cornwall</i>.</p> +</div> +</div> +<div class="divBody"> +<p class="first">Many persons of Penzance and its neighbourhood, whose memories take them back fifty +years or more, may recollect an aged man, usually called Dick Rastram, who for some +weeks before Christmas, and after it, used to be heard calling around the market,— +</p> +<div class="lgouter"> +<p class="line">“Moore’s almanacks new, +</p> +<p class="line">Some lies and some true.”</p> +</div> +<p class="first">The almanacks he sold were supplemented with advertisements of patent medicines and +other special articles kept by his master. +</p> +<p>On the whole Dick must have been a good servant, or his master would never have had +the patience to bear with his provoking ways for so many years as he did. Dick was +very fond of arguing the point as to the best mode of doing any job he was set about, +and the time wasted in settling the matter was more than would have sufficed to do +the work many times over; but he would exert himself with double vigour when allowed +to have his own way. Sometimes, however, the master becoming tired of his man’s pig-headedness, +would say “do the work as thou art told to; whether right or wrong no blame will rest +on thy shoulders.” Then Dick would keep a sharp look-out for a mistake, and if his +master made any, by a “slip of the tongue,” he would be sure to execute it to the +very letter. +</p> +<p>One morning this precious man-servant was sent to the bake-house in Back Lane, for +a twopenny loaf of the proper age for mixing with other ingredients in making pills. +In a few minutes he returned, placed the pence on the counter, and said “there’s no +bread there stale enough; where must I go next?” Then he was told some other place, +and as often returned without bread, asking each time where he was to go next? So +he dawdled away great <span class="pageNum" id="pb49">[<a href="#pb49">49</a>]</span>part of the forenoon, when everyone knew that if he had a mind he would find a suitable +loaf in some shop best known to himself, in a few minutes. The last time he returned +with the two-pence and asked<span class="corr" id="xd33e1352" title="Not in source">,</span> “Where must I go next?” his master, provoked beyond measure, said go to —, naming +a place said to be very hot; and to soften the angry expression, added the word “stone” +in a lower voice; but the man heard this cooling word, took up the pence, and went +out to get the bread, it was supposed from some shop of his own choice. Night came, +however, but no Dick; and the following day passed without his having been seen or +heard of in Penzance. +</p> +<p>A little after the usual closing time Mr. Harvey was in his shop with a few of his +neighbours, wondering what had become of his man, and getting rather uneasy at not +having had any tidings of him, and was about to have his shop closed, when Dick entered, +put a two-penny loaf on the counter, and said, <span class="corr" id="xd33e1356" title="Not in source">“</span>Here’s a loaf that’ll please ’e I ’spose. I’ve ben where you told me to go for ut. +You will, of course, pay me for what it cost me in lodgings in Helston last night, +and for meat and drink on the road. I went as cheap as I cud; ’tes only two and twenty +pence; seeman to me you have kept the shop open very late, and all the lamps burnan, +when every shop round the market es shut up except the two grocers’ that are always +the last.<span class="corr" id="xd33e1358" title="Not in source">”</span> +</p> +<p>Dick then put up the shutters, turned down all the lamps except one near his master’s +desk, and asked if there was anything more for him to do that night. “If there <span class="corr" id="xd33e1362" title="Source: es’nt">esn’t</span>,<span class="corr" id="xd33e1365" title="Not in source">”</span> said he, “I’d like to go home and go to bed at once, that I may rise early in the +mornan.” +</p> +<p>Dick’s master being one who always saw the humourous side of a matter—and who had +a keen relish for it, <span class="corr" id="xd33e1369" title="Source: could’nt">couldn’t</span>, for his life, keep a stern look when he replied, “go into the kitchen and get thy +supper and don’t let me see thee any more to night.” +</p> +<p>Yet, with all the man’s deviltry, he was extremely proud of his master’s repute as +a skilful chemist and a clever man; as well as of the old-established business, to +which he regarded himself as a most important adjunct. +</p> +<p>The warehouses where Dick reigned supreme, as far as he could, were extensive and +somewhat scattered. The shop was a large one for those times, with groceries on one +side and drugs on the other. Grocers’ kitchens were then the usual places in which +their regular country customers left their baskets when their marketing was finished; +and there, too, boiling water was kept that country-folks might make themselves tea, +after which the warehouseman helped them take their marketing to the inn-yard, at +which their horses were left (market-carts were but few then.) All were anxious to +keep in with Dick, to have his assistance, for he was as “ugly” as sin with some who +gadded about to new shops, that they might pick up things sold cheap as a draw for +a short time. +<span class="pageNum" id="pb50">[<a href="#pb50">50</a>]</span></p> +<p>Amongst the old regular customers, to whom Dick paid much attention, was Mary Angwin, +or Chygwin, the wife of a well-to-do miner in St. Just Churchtown, who also cultivated +a few acres of land, in his spare time. A few weeks before Hallantide<a class="noteRef" id="xd33e1379src" href="#xd33e1379" title="Go to note 1.">1</a> Mary invited Dick to come out the Feasten Sunday, and he promised to come. +</p> +<p>On Feasten Eve, Mary and Jackey, her husband, were both in Penzance, to get meat and +other things for the feast. They didn’t want to kill their pig for winter’s store +before it was fat, and sell one side of it on the Thursday before the Feast, as many +did that they might buy beef and other good things for the Tide. “Be sure you come +early, in time to go to Church,” said Jackey, when his wife had reminded Dick of his +promise to come. St. Just folks, and others in Feasten time, were proud to show a +goodly number of visitors in Church. “And now, Dick,” said she, when ready to leave +the shop, “if you will take one side of the basket, with me, Jackey will shoulder +the sack of meat. The basket is heavy with Hallan apples, the largest I could get, +and with other things; the old mare will groan and grunt at some rate, all the way +home, as she always do, the creature, when there’s a few pounds more than usual on +her back.” +</p> +<p>After Mary had jogged away, seated on a bow-pad, with the heavy basket on her knees +and the sack across the beast, Jackey stayed awhile waiting for some comrades who +were going to tramp it home as well as himself. “You can find our house, mate, without +any trouble,” said he to his expected feaster, “’tes nearly the first you will come +to on entering Churchtown by the Penzance road; and you will know et by the largest +turf-rick you’ll see close to the end of et, and ’tes sure to be sanded all about, +from the door to the turf-rick and pigs’ crow. I’ve ben along to Percurnow on purpose +for a load; none else will please Mary, for the Feast, but the sand from that Cove; +and I brought home ‘gard,’ (decomposed granite) from the Tinpit Hill, in St. Levan, +too, that she may scour the life out of tembran things,—the dairy door and all, as +well as the benches; she’s a capital wife, she es. Now good night, and be sure to +come early.” +</p> +<p>By 10 o’clock Dick arrived, and was treated to a dram, first thing, whilst Mary laid +before him a substantial breakfast. The only one there before, except those belonging +to the house, was an old maid, a mantua-maker of Kelynack; she was a staid old dear, +yet not out of hopes of getting married. Hearing that Dick Rostram was expected she +had invited herself to come and help Mary cook the feasten dinner; and it was funny +to see this dry <span class="pageNum" id="pb51">[<a href="#pb51">51</a>]</span>old creature “setting her cap” at old Dick all the time he was there. Next came an +elderly couple from Sancras; then two blooming damsels, sisters, from Morvah. And +when all those expected were come, Mary said, “Jackey, <i>my son</i>,” (though speaking to her husband) “es time for thee to take our Feasters to Church, +for I and Cousin Gracey want all the room to cook dinner. <span class="corr" id="xd33e1390" title="Source: you’ll">You’ll</span> stop a spell in the public-house as usual, and all will be ready to place on the +board by the time you come in.” +</p> +<p>Though late for service in Church they had one comfort, as Jackey said, “they would +be out as soon as the rest.” +</p> +<p>About two o’clock the feasters came home and found the big crock lifted off the brandes +(trivet) on to the hearth. In the large vessel were boiled a rump of beef, a couple +of fowls, and a nice piece of streaky pork to eat with them; as well as turnips, carrots, +and other vegetables, all in kipps (net-bags) to keep them <span class="corr" id="xd33e1396" title="Source: seperate">separate</span> and for convenience in taking up. The vegetables were placed to drain on bars called +“kipp sticks,” placed across the crock; the beef was dished up on a round pewter platter; +the fowls had melted butter and parsley—some of the butter poured on them, the rest +served in a boat. A <span class="corr" id="xd33e1399" title="Source: rabbbit-pie">rabbit-pie</span> was steaming on the chimney stool; and a baked figgy (plum) pudding was on the dresser, +turned out of the baker on to another pewter platter, and powdered over with white +sugar. On one end of the hearth, over a few embers, stood a little pot, the very model +of the larger vessel but not more than a tenth of its size, containing choice red-apply +potatoes, steaming under a cloth, all the water having been poured off. At the sight +of this Dick clapped his hands and cried “what a dear little crock!” +</p> +<p>When the female guests came down, with their dresses pinned up, that they mightn’t +be foust (soiled or rumpled) they found dinner served. Mary took from the dresser +pewter flagons, which shone like silver and were only used on grand occasions, to +serve the ale. If the feasters didn’t make a good dinner it was from no fault of their +entertainers, for it was “cut and come again” till all declared they were “choke full +and ready to burst.” Then they had a nip of brandy all round, to settle their stomachs. +Jugs of hot toddy were next placed on the board, with a little tray of shag tobacco +and long pipes. Crocks and pans put away, the fire was gathered to one end of the +hearth; fresh turves put on; and the chimney-stool put back to its place on the other +end of the roomy hearth, that those who liked best to smoke in the chimney corner +might sit there. The men being made comfortable as their hearts could desire, Mary +and her female friends went upstairs to have a cosy chat to themselves; and there +they had a bottle of old sweet-drink (mead) which had been kept for the feast. Didn’t +their tongues go, two or three together, talking over the births and <span class="pageNum" id="pb52">[<a href="#pb52">52</a>]</span>marriages that had lately taken place or were likely soon to occur amongst their acquaintances; +the new dresses seen in Church; and scores of other matters dear to female hearts. +</p> +<p>When weary of being without the men, down they came to have a look round the “hale” +(hall?) Jackey asked if they,—the two blooming ones—would like to have a run down +to the Cape? “No thank ’e, Jackey dear,” said the elder, “<span class="corr" id="xd33e1408" title="Not in source">’</span>tes too cold a place this time of the year, but well enow in summer. After we have +warmed ourselves a bit we want to see the pretty things in your hale, brought home, +from over sea, by your cousin, Tom Hattam.” “You shall, my dears, and take a glass +of hot toddy to warm ’e all through. I spose your sweethearts will be here soon?” +“No not yet, for hours,” said the elder again; “es time enow for them to come here +when we want to be going home, and that won’t be yet awhile. But I <span class="corr" id="xd33e1410" title="Source: should’nt">shouldn’t</span> wonder if Nanny’s Tom es here before long to know where he shall meet you and some +other San Tusters to-morrow to go rabbit shooting. You must come over to Morvah, he +said, for he can tell you where a hare’s likely to be found and rabbits in plenty. +Her boy, Tom es roving mad sometimes to get married and be off over sea to a place +where many of his comrades went some years ago, and are doing well there, so Tom says. +What’s the place called Nancy, that thee art always dreaman about?” “Dodgeville,” +replied the younger; “es near Mineral Point.” +</p> +<p>Jackey having set the Morvah girls a-talking about their sweethearts, and the subject +of their discourse being of little interest to any but themselves, the Sancras man, +taking Jackey’s two elder children, went to visit some relatives of his and theirs +in another part of Churchtown. His wife was asleep on Mary’s bed, being tired after +her walk from Trannack and a hearty meal. At last when the girls paused a moment they +and the rest went to look at the pretty things in Mary’s hale. +</p> +<p>Whether Jackey Angwin’s best room be called a hale or a parlour, it was a very neat +little place,—almost too bright and nice and full of nick-nacks for one’s eyes to +rest on anything. +</p> +<p>The mantel-shelf was so crowded with china cattle, chiefly cows and sheep, with a +shepherd and shepherdess under a tree, taking care of them, that they had scarcely +room either to lie or to stand amidst crystals of quartz, or Cornish diamonds, and +other choice specimens, and foreign shells. There were also two circus horses, red +and white ones, rearing on their hind legs, on either end of the shelf, and ready +for a spring down on the floor. +</p> +<p>Hanging on the walls over the mantel was that red-hot picture of Vesuvius and the +Bay of Naples, which seamen so often bring home from some Levantine port to let their +friends know something of the wonders they have seen. “Come here, Dick, and the rest +of ’e, and tell us about this picture and other foreign things that <span class="pageNum" id="pb53">[<a href="#pb53">53</a>]</span>Cousin Jack brought home on his return from his first voyage abroad.” Dick looked +at the picture and said, “This is the same that one may see in almost every house +in Capens Row, and in many on Sandy Bank. Sailors all tell a story about it and say +that a long while ago, a vessel was becalmed for three days and two nights within +sight of that burning mountain. About one o’clock, or earlier, on the third night, +they heard a loud voice, coming from that mountain, say, ‘the hour es come, but the +man <span class="corr" id="xd33e1421" title="Source: es’nt">esn’t</span> come.’ Lookan to windward just after, the sailors saw a black cloud rising from out +over the sea and coming straight towards them. When just over the main-tops they saw +plainly that what they had taken for a cloud was a company of infernal spirits, carrying +off among them a man they had known. He was a Barbary pirate whose vessel they had +sunk with all on board not long before. The men heard dreadful cries as the infernal +spirits bore the pirate away right to the mountain that had only ben smoakan for days +before; but as the infernals approached and took the man down et blazed up and roared +like thunder. Then a gale sprung up and brought the ship into port—thereabouts, where +you see the red-lookan housen,” said Dick pointing to Naples. +</p> +<p>[This sounds much like an old kmonish legend, and it probably is one adapted from +the ancient myth which tells of Etna and Vesuvius being the chimney-tops of Tartarus.] +</p> +<p>“Can that story be true?” asked Gracey, looking at the picture as if she expected +to see the cloud of infernals. “I don’t know I’m sure,” Angwin replied, “for Jack +told us the same; but sailors spin such queer yarns, and so besmeared with their tarbrush, +that one can’t ever tell what’s in them of truth. Now when Jack brought us this picture +(and other things we’ll see bem by) Granny was here. She put on her spectacles to +have a good look, but couldn’t make out what it was. When Jack told her et was a burnan +mountain she said ‘Hold thy tongue; I’ll never believe that; es a bad picture of a +house a fire I spose.’ ‘Well, old dear,’ replied he, ‘you won’t credit me weth haven +sen many things that you <span class="corr" id="xd33e1427" title="Source: hav’nt">havn’t</span>. You wan’t believe praps that when on the Red Sea shores I seed the axle-trees of +Pharoah’s chariots stickan out of the sand weth the linch-pins still in them. The +wheels and the other tember was rotten and washed away.’ ‘Perhaps I may believe that,<span class="corr" id="xd33e1430" title="Not in source">’</span> said she. ‘An old ship-mate of mine,’ continued Jack, ‘who had ben a long way inland +told me he had sen Lot’s wife turned into rock-salt. ’Tes still standan in that dry +climate, and he cracked off the little finger of her right hand. It’s grown again: +fingers and toes shoot out, or sprout anew, during a flowing tide.’ ‘Why what is become +of the finger?’ asked she. ‘That, at the bottom of the sea, now,’ replied he, ‘weth +many other strange things, such as Eve’s apples, very fair to see but all full of +ashes <span class="pageNum" id="pb54">[<a href="#pb54">54</a>]</span>within jest like ‘colebrands’ (smutty ears of wheat.) His ship was sunk with a blow +from a whale’s tail, and he wed a ben drowned, ef by good luck he hadn’t a got hold +of a dolphan, which he mounted when sinkan, and the good fish, always friendly to +sailors, bore him safe to shore.’ ‘Now I wan’t heer any more of thy stories,’ said +Granny, ‘for one can’t tell what to believe of them.’<span class="corr" id="xd33e1434" title="Not in source">”</span> +</p> +<p>When Jackey ceased talking the company passed on towards a large table, with turned-down +leaves, which stood against the wall opposite the window. Resting on this table and +supported by the wall was an oval mahogany tea tray of the old fashion, and above +it pictures of the four Evangelists, seemingly painted on glass. The saints’ raiment +was of as deep a dye as the lurid flames of Vesuvius or the purple waters of Naples +Bay. In front of the tea tray was a pile of books, and at either end a large foreign +shell, so turned as to show the delicate pink of its inner surface. “Put one of these +to your ear, my dear,” said Dick to the younger Morvah damsel, “and you will hear +waves surging on the shores from which they were brought, and that’s over the water +which you expect soon to cross.” Nancy having placed a shell to her ear and listening, +said, “I surely hear it murmuring as if in grief to be taken from its old home and +companions. What do you hear, sister?” “<span class="corr" id="xd33e1438" title="Source: much">Much</span> the same, I think,” replied the other sister. “Oh, what a lot of things you townsmen +know,” said Gracey; “I should dearly love to live in Penzance; one can hear and see +so much more there than in the country.” “Come and live with me then, my dear,” said +Dick; “I’ve a lot of pretty things to show <span class="corr" title="Source: e">’e</span> and we’re a suitable couple,—just of a height,” continued he, taking Gracey’s arm +in his, whilst she looked down and simpered in a way she thought would seem modest. +</p> +<p>Leaving the table, all Mary’s guests came to a corner-cupboard or “buffet,” as it +was usually called. About a third of its height was closed with doors; over which +were three open shelves. On the lower shelf, or cupboard-bed, was a rare old china +punch-bowl, turned on its mouth, with old china plates lining the sides, and around +the bowl, basins and small cups, without handles, all of rare old India china. On +the middle shelf was a china tea-set. On the upper one many curious old glasses, some +of them coloured, with high twisted stems, and patterns cut on their inner surfaces. +Whilst looking over these, Gracey spoke of her feet being cold, and the gallant Dick +led her to the kitchen fire. When they had passed out Mary opened the cupboard doors +and took out a variety of such trifles as sailors usually bring home from foreign +parts; and these were, most of them, either from Quebec or South American ports, to +which ships in the timber trade resort. Amongst the former were moccasons and pouches +of curious <span class="pageNum" id="pb55">[<a href="#pb55">55</a>]</span>patterns, worked by the squaws of Indian Lorrett, about ten miles from Quebec; strings +of those rare seeds called Indian shot, the product of Canadian plants. (The larger +ones, looking like bits of pear-shaped porcelain, and just as hard, are often strung +for rosaries: although so hard that their sides, when dry, cannot be pierced with +steel, they have a natural cavity from end to end, running lengthwise, through which +a fine needle and thread may be passed.) Next a clear broad-mouthed bottle, full of +smaller foreign products, was taken out and brought to the window, when Mary noticed +that the day was darkening, and, looking up at the old eight-day clock, which stood +beside the fireplace, was surprised to find it so late, and said she must be off to +get tea, opened the door a little, then closed it, and came back and said to Jackey, +“I be hanged ef old Gracey and Dick ain’t upon the chimney-stool sitting as close +as they can get, head to head, courtan. Who but they! She’s ben tryan all she cud +do in that way ever since Dick es here.” +</p> +<p>Mary then went to the dairy to make a cake. The window being darkened by many choice +plants, chiefly roses, they brought the bottle of wonders up to the kitchen table +and turned out its contents. +</p> +<p>One may remark, before going farther, that the clock was made by Matthew Wearne, of +St. Erth, early in the last century. Many of them are still in this neighbourhood, +keeping good time. +</p> +<p>Suspended from a beam, near the middle of the room, was a silvered-glass globe reflecting +objects around. Against vacant places on the walls were placed the usual six chairs +and two armed ones, all furnished with neat, patch-work covered cushions. The bottle +being emptied on the table, there were found various small tropical shells and seeds, +strung together like necklaces; also some of those bean-shaped seeds frequently picked +up on our sands, and on all shores laved by the Gulf Stream. In the West Country these +have no particular name that we know of, but they were often perforated, strung, and +hung from children’s necks to make them cut their teeth easily; and were worn as amulets +for preventing diseases. It is pretty well known that those seeds of tropical trees +being found on many shores of Europe, and not being those of any known trees in the +Old World, learned men concluded before the time of Columbus, that they must be produced +in lands either in, or beyond, the Atlantic; consequently, they had something to do +with the discovery of America. +</p> +<p>The bottle repacked and put away tea was ready and all the guests assembled. +</p> +<p>Besides the heavy cake just baked,—black with currants, and too rich with cream for +any one to eat much of, there were risen cakes; and apple-cakes, baked on Saturday; +with bread, cream, and honey. +<span class="pageNum" id="pb56">[<a href="#pb56">56</a>]</span></p> +<p>Tea being over, the old Sancras couple left. They wern’t much missed, for they were +a dull old pair, who passed nearly all their time either eating, drinking, or sleeping. +The old man had walked down to Nancherrow, ’tis true, but then he went to visit an +old acquaintance, were he was sure to have more drink; yet he tasted every thing on +the table at tea-time, finishing with bread and honey, as he said the cream was too +“quaffing” (luscious) to eat with honey. +</p> +<p>In the meantime Jackey had placed on the embers a faggot of furze, and on it a few +heathy turves, to keep in the flames and gradually kindle the whole. Then a high-backed +settle was brought to the hearth from the stair-rail against which it usually stood. +The settle-back could be turned down to rest on the ends, so as to form a table if +wanted. Mary sat back by the table, feeling too warm, with all her moving about, to +sit nearer the fire; and looked around with pride on her dresser-shelves, full of +rare old earthenware (the queer faces in her old clome jugs grinned with joy in the +warm firelight;) then on her bright brass warming-pan, candlesticks, pewter flagons, +and other things on the chimney-piece, and she was not less pleased to see the white +“valance,” called the chimney-cloth, which hung along the “cravel” (mantel-stone or +tree.) Old housewives were just as careful to have clean chimney-cloths as caps. They +kept everything about their fire-places as clean as if they venerated the hearth as +an altar. +</p> +<p>Come to Mary’s house at any time, you would always find this room dry and comfortable. +All sloppy work was done in a pretty large room at the back, under a lean-to roof +all the length of the dwelling. +</p> +<p>At one end of this scullery, or back kitchen, a portion was screened off for a dairy. +Over this, and projecting a few feet, was a “talfat” (loft) where some of the children’s +beds were placed. At the other end, a few feet were taken up with a spence; near which +was an outer door opening to a court, with the peeth, large stone-trough, fuel-ricks, +&c. +</p> +<p>Shortly after the old Sancras “pigs’ ” departure, in came two sturdy young fellows,—one +from the north of St. Just, the other from Morvah. +</p> +<p>“Will <span class="corr" title="Source: e">’e</span> have a cup of tea? We’ve only just finished” asked Mary. “They don’t care for the +women’s drink,” Jackey answered for them; “make a jug of toddy.” “They had no business +to come yet,” said that talking elder sister, “we shan’t go yet for a good while.” +“But Tom and I must go early,” said Hannibal, that sister’s sweetheart; <span class="corr" id="xd33e1466" title="Not in source">“</span>Tom to be up early and after the rabbits. I must work the first core to bal or be +spaled (fined.) Es hard that a worken man can’t have a day or two once a year, to +hold the Feast, when those we work for have a feast every day, all the year <span class="pageNum" id="pb57">[<a href="#pb57">57</a>]</span>round. Besides, we’ll all be here early to-morrow evening that we may dance altogether. +Perhaps it’ll be the last time for many years.” +</p> +<p>“My dear Nanny,” said Tom to the younger sister, as she laid her head on his shoulder +and wept, “what art a-cryan for? Thinkan about beean far away from father and mother, +next year this time? Cheer up, my darling, for we shall soon have a comfortable home +there and they will come to us, perhaps, before next Feast; who can tell? Older folks +than they are going away to their children every day, and taking much longer voyages +too. Come now, when over there thy Tom may hunt better game than any here, without +so much as askan leave or licence, and you will make venison pasties instead of dry +‘fuggans’ or ‘hoggans.’ ” +</p> +<p>“Catch thy dears first,” said the teasing elder sister. +</p> +<p>“Well, Nelly,” replied he, “west a believe what Simon Mitchell wrote home? He’s only +been there about two years and he said that he <span class="corr" id="xd33e1474" title="Source: would’nt">wouldn’t</span> be home agen for the fee of Boscarn, and that workan men there may, and do, have +turkeys on their tables oftener than we can get rabbits. Now I’ll tell thee, sister +Nell,” continued he, rising and taking Nanny to the door, “ef I’d been in thy Honny’s +place I’d jest say ef thee westn’t go thee may’st stay, and then we should hear another +tune.” +</p> +<p>“Never mind her, Tom,” replied Hannibal, “es only that I may court her the more.” +</p> +<p>Soon after they had settled on a place to meet next morning with Jackey, the blooming +damsels and their lovers left, with a promise to come again early to-morrow evening. +</p> +<p>Shortly after the young peoples’ departure Dick got out of his warm corner on the +chimney-stool and said “Es time for me to be goan, for I’ve further to go than any +of your other feasters.” +</p> +<p>“No, no,” said Mary, “stop over to-morrow and till servy day” (Feasten Wednesday) +“if you will, and go with me and Grace to the fiddler, for I can shake my shoes in +a three-handed reel yet and shall for years to come, I hope.” +</p> +<p>“I trust thee west,” said Jackey, “for my old grandmother danced of a Feasten Monday +till she was eighty-two, and a better woman there never was. Now do <span class="corr" title="Source: e">’e</span> stop,” said he to the guest, “and keep a ‘Mazed Monday’ for once. Master won’t mind +et. Whilst I’m after the rabbits, only for a few hours, early in the morning, the +boy will go with you to see the youngsters’ games. To be sure they arn’t kept up now +like in old times when there was hurling and wrestling, and all the gentle folks of +the parish came to see, or join in the sports; a hundred years ago there were many +of their old family seats occupied by the owners (one may count five or six of them +now, let as farm houses, at no great distance from the road leading through St. Just, +from Sennen to Morvah, beginning with Brea and ending with Pendeen.) The <span class="pageNum" id="pb58">[<a href="#pb58">58</a>]</span>prize-wrestling was left till Feasten Monday, the standards having been all made many +weeks before hand. Though the weather was often bad and grass wet and slippery, the +youngsters in their well barked canvas jackets, didn’t mind a trifle of mud, and the +ladies encouraged their lovers’ or brothers’ manliness. +</p> +<p>“I’d like to stay and see anything like it now,” said Dick; “but our people have been +expectan goods for a long time. Only yesterday the <i>Furley</i> came in and Captain Hosking es goan to have the cargo broken out to-morrow. So I +must be home to stow our things in the warehouses; else I shall find everything in +a ‘migle-cum-por’ (confusion or mess.) You see the weight of the business es upon +<i>my</i> shoulders. How shud’na be, for I’ve ben weth our people all my life-time—, weth my +present master’s father first, when I was no bigger than your boy Jackey; so I must +love <span class="corr" title="Source: e">’e</span> and leave <span class="corr" title="Source: e">’e</span>, and you will be sure to come in and see me Madron Feasten Sunday won’t <span class="corr" title="Source: e">’e</span> Mary? You shall go to our grand Church and hear the organ. Lots of people go a purpose +to hearn, and you’ll see grand folks and things sure nuf.” +</p> +<p>“Well, thank <span class="corr" title="Source: e">’e</span>,” said Mary, “I’d like to go very well, but don’t see how I can leave Jackey; he’d +be like a fish out of water of a Sunday, home without me.” +</p> +<p>“Jackey must come too,” replied Dick, “and little Mary and John, ef you will.” +</p> +<p>“The four younger ones,” said Mary to her husband, “might be left with their grandmother, +the same as to-day, ef she’ll be troubled weth them agen so soon, for I should dread +to leave them here weth anybody but myself. They will be always playan weth the fire +when they arn’t ploshan in the water, and our wood-corner is a dangerous one.” +</p> +<p>“Now I’ll tell <span class="corr" title="Source: e">’e</span> how you can manage et,” said Grace. “The Sunday I’ll come over early, to see that +you are all to-rights, and the children shall go home weth me; then you can put out +the fire, turn down the brandes on the bakan-ire, cross the fire-hook and prong, sweep +up the hearthstone, put on it a basin of spring water, for the ‘Smale People (fairies) +and good luck,’ like as the old folks ded, and some do still before leaving their +houses shut up, then touch the cravel before crossing the drussel, lock the door, +and away to Feast. I’ll come and see that you are all smart and tidy to go to Penzance +Church and hear the organ. I’ll come over <i>very</i> early and titevate <span class="corr" title="Source: e">’e</span> off, for the credit of the parish, before you go to Penzance Feast to see grand people +and things; and I’m sure you’ll be made very welcome weth Mr. Rostram.” +</p> +<p>“Oh cuss <span class="corr" title="Source: e">’e</span>,” cried Dick, “that esn’t my name; that’s a nickname some blackguards put upon me, +years ago, and fools keep it up still. I’d as soon hear thunder.” +</p> +<p>“Oh laws,” sighed Gracey, “I ded’n know that, and have ben <span class="pageNum" id="pb59">[<a href="#pb59">59</a>]</span>thinkan all day what a pretty name that es and how I shud like to be called by’n.” +</p> +<p>“Then take’n and welcome,” said Dick, going outside the door. +</p> +<p>“Stop a minute,” said Mary “for me to put on my bonnet and shawl; Jackey and I will +go along wh’y to the North Road or farther.” +</p> +<p>They <span class="corr" id="xd33e1535" title="Source: did’nt">didn’t</span> offer a parting dram, knowing that he had taken enough for his old crazy head to +bear, nor try to detain him, lest Gracey might shoot more fools’ bolts. Among other +talk, by the way, Dick remarked that the elder Morvah damsel seemed unwilling to leave +home with the rest. +</p> +<p>“That’s only her way of teazing those best liked by her,” Mary replied, <span class="corr" id="xd33e1540" title="Not in source">“</span>ef Honney were less eager to go with Tom and Nancy then the other would urge him to +go, for she likes her sister, and the two men have always been the same as twin brothers.” +</p> +<p>“And capital fellows they are,” said Jackey, “to get on in any land where their native +tongue is known. Hannibal es as good a man for underground work as may be found; besides, +he can do any rough carpenters’ work better than many who served a time to learn the +trade, and can make a strong wall in the old fashion by laying the stones to bind +each other, without mortar, like they were in our old castle walls, such as Choon; +and Tom, besides beean a good miner es very handy with blacksmiths’ tools and so well +acquainted with a fire-engine that he’s often trusted to work her, in place of the +regular engineman. There’ll few be found in Yankey-land to beat them. And their intended +wives can turn their hands to any kind of work fit for women.” +</p> +<p>“Well ef I’m never married in this world, I’ll never have old snuffy Gracey,” said +Dick to himself. “How can one after seean such dear Morvah maidens?” +</p> +<p>“We’re on the great road now to Penzance,” said Jackey, “and I think, mate, that you’ll +get home very well ef you don’t try to make any short cuts across the fields. The +longest way round is often the shortest way home.” +</p> +<p>“Good night, and I wish ’e well,” said Dick. “You’r coman in to Madron Feast, and +be sure you come early one and all of <span class="corr" title="Source: e">’e</span>.” +</p> +<p>After parting, Dick called back several times, “Be sure to come early Madron Feasten +Sunday.” +</p> +<p></p> +<div class="figure p059width"><img src="images/p059.png" alt="Piskey standing in front of mug." width="167" height="118"></div><p> +<span class="pageNum" id="pb60">[<a href="#pb60">60</a>]</span></p> +</div> +<div class="footnotes"> +<hr class="fnsep"> +<div class="footnote-body"> +<div class="fndiv" id="xd33e1379"> +<p class="footnote"><span class="fnlabel"><a class="noteRef" href="#xd33e1379src" title="Return to note 1 in text.">1</a></span> The name usually given to St. Just feast as it is the nearest Sunday to All-Hallows. <a class="fnarrow" href="#xd33e1379src" title="Return to note 1 in text.">↑</a></p> +</div> +</div> +</div> +</div> +<div id="ch9" class="div1 chapter"><span class="pageNum">[<a title="Go to the table of contents" href="#xd33e222">Contents</a>]</span><div class="divHead"> +<h2 class="main">MILL STORIES.</h2> +</div> +<div class="divBody"> +<p class="first">SUPPLEMENTARY TO HALLANTIDE. +</p> +<p>I remember being down in Uncle Oliver Pooley’s Mill, in Nancherrow Bottom, one afternoon +about the time Dick Rostram went to St. Just feast. Two women were there awaiting +their turn to serge their barley-meal. In making <span class="corr" id="xd33e1561" title="Source: remarsk">remarks</span> about a new house that a neighbour of theirs had just built for himself, one of the +women said to the other, “What do <span class="corr" title="Source: e">’e</span> think, cheeld-vean? They’ve got a planchan put down in the little room, t’other side +of the ‘entry,’ and they cal’n a pare-lar, forsuth; why a es but a good hale and make +the most of n. Aw, the pride of some folks who have jest got a sturt! Es enough to +make one sick to think o’ them, cheeld-vean.” “Now hold thy clack: thee art sick with +envy,” replied the one addressed in such endearing terms. “They have always minded +their own business and ben careful enough to save the money to build a new house weth +a planched parlour. Thee west like to have one thyself, I suppose. I shud, and hope +I may one day, planched parlour and all. Then I’ll have a carpet for’n, to be comfortable +in my old years. Now go and mind thy flour; es nearly all down. Thee west dearly like +to be a witch,” continued the outspoken dame, “to put a spell of ill luck on thy neighbours +and blast both man and beast, but thou artn’t crafty enow yet; but live in hopes that +the devil will teach thee some day, for a es of women like thee that witches are made.” +</p> +<p>The woman thus reviled, then took her meal with no other sifting than what it had +in the jigger, and went away without making any reply. +</p> +<p>Then the angry out-spoken one, turning towards An Polly, the old miller’s wife, said, +“Ef that faggot <span class="corr" id="xd33e1570" title="Source: had’nt">hadn’t</span> stopped her jaw I’d a chucked her, by asking her how the little pig was gettan on +that her boys, weth their dog, chased into the peth t’other night, thinkan a belonged +to somebody else. Have <span class="corr" title="Source: e">’e</span> heard the story, An Polly?” +</p> +<p>“No, nor I waant,” replied she, “for you are all alike in backbitan one another, and +as great as inkle makers sometimes when you’ve got another woman to tear to pieces +among <span class="corr" title="Source: e">’e</span>. I wish, for my part, that old Oliver could bear the mill-dust, and play the fiddle +to set <span class="corr" title="Source: e">’e</span> all a dancing, while you’re waiting, like he used to, and like the mellar of Pendeen +Mill do still, for you <span class="pageNum" id="pb61">[<a href="#pb61">61</a>]</span>can’t be quiet a minute, and a es better to pass the time dansan than slanderan one +t’other.” +</p> +<p>Lovey (Loveday) the daughter, came down from the mill-bed, as her mother went into +the house. “Do tell me, An Jenny,” said she, “what a es about the pig.” “That woman,” +replied An Jenny, “jest gone es as full of spite as an egg es full of meat. She didn’t +know, or perhaps forgote, that those she sneered at were cousins to me; a good wey +off to be sure they are, but blood es thicker than water, and when fourth cousins +get well off they seem nearer than poor first cousins, or others. Well, I was goen +to tell <span class="corr" title="Source: e">’e</span> how a neighbour’s pig can’t show es nose near her door, but a es sure to be scalped +by havan a kettle full of boilan water thrown over am; and her ashes’ pile, close +to her door, es always covered weth pieces of sour half-sooked barley fuggans, left +to go sour and vinneyed; with fish and other things left to go stale and stinkan. +Pigs have good noses, poor things, and when out to lanes will come and muzzle-up the +ashes to get at any offal. One night last week a neighbour’s boys, whose pig had often +ben ill-used,—sometimes burnt over head and ears weth a showl full of turfey fire, +when she had no water boilan,—watched to find the way clear when she was gone out +to ‘coursey’ until et was time for her to get supper for Bill and the two boys when +they come home from bal. The boys whipped into the crow where Bill’s little white +pig had a few days before been put to feed agenst wenter, and they so smeered et with +gudgeon gress<a class="noteRef" id="xd33e1591src" href="#xd33e1591" title="Go to note 1.">1</a> and soot that a looked jest like one of the new sort of black pigs. Soon after, when +they saw light in Bill’s house, they turned his pig out and bolted the crow door. +A few minutes after the boys who painted Bill’s pig heard’n screechan and seed’n tearan +round the town-place like mad, till he got between his crow and the turf-rick and +there stopt. P’raps you dont know what a trap Billy’s peeth es, and more dangerous +than before a hedge was made close to one end ofn; the broad, flat stone in which +the winze-‘millar’ do work es built into this new hedge, and the hook-handle on another +broad stone weth the peeth between, only half-covered weth a few loose, broken pieces +of old bal tember. After the poor pig had been there a few minutes Bill’s boys, as +ugly as their mother, came home, and their snappish cur found the pig and gave chase +to’n; it run’d slap up agen the hedge and tried to turn, but, bean nearly ef not quite +blind, and the dog bitean es hinder parts, tha poor little thing in tryan to scramble +over the peeth fell into’n. Now they were for life to get ropes, and a ladder to take +up the pig lest they got into trouble; they were hours in bringen the pig to grass, +and dedn’t find out tell next day that it was their own! +<span class="pageNum" id="pb62">[<a href="#pb62">62</a>]</span></p> +<p>“Whatever An Polly may say,” continued Jenny, after pausing a moment to take snuff, +“I never say anything but the truth about anybody. I pity them sometimes, from my +very heart, and when I go to meetan pray that the Lord may give them grace to turn +from their wicked ways; and I can’t help pittyan Billy even now that I think what +a wisht feast a had last year, and don’t suppose he’ll have any this.” +</p> +<p>“Stop a minute,” said Lovey, “I must turn off the water from the mill-wheel.” +</p> +<p>“Now tell us about Billy’s feast,” said Lovey, on seating herself, “and we won’t interrupt +<span class="corr" title="Source: e">’e</span>.” +</p> +<p>“You know both of <span class="corr" title="Source: e">’e</span> and everybody else here-abouts,” said An Jenny, “than ef a San Juster don’t keep +up the feast in some way jest as a can he’s looked down on and jeered at.” +</p> +</div> +<div class="footnotes"> +<hr class="fnsep"> +<div class="footnote-body"> +<div class="fndiv" id="xd33e1591"> +<p class="footnote"><span class="fnlabel"><a class="noteRef" href="#xd33e1591src" title="Return to note 1 in text.">1</a></span> Grease which oozes out from the gudgeons of mine machinery. <a class="fnarrow" href="#xd33e1591src" title="Return to note 1 in text.">↑</a></p> +</div> +</div> +</div> +</div> +<div id="ch10" class="div1 chapter"><span class="pageNum">[<a title="Go to the table of contents" href="#xd33e228">Contents</a>]</span><div class="divHead"> +<h2 class="main">A POOR TINNER’S FEAST.</h2> +</div> +<div class="divBody"> +<p class="first">Bill killed his pig, which <span class="corr" id="xd33e1611" title="Source: was’nt">wasn’t</span> half fat,—not so good to kill as many running the lanes. He took one side to market +and left the other hanging in his kitchen. Now Halan Market es the west (worst) in +the year for sellan pork; so many Santusters’ poor lean trash are there that they +keep down the price, and people who want good pork seldom come to that market. Bill +made a few shillans, laid out a trifle in a bit of beef, and kept the rest to pay +off a little of his long score at the shop in churchtown, that he might be trusted +agen. In the Green Market he met a Zennor man who had been an old comrade of his. +He invited him over for feasten Sunday. He didn’t wait to be asked twice before he +promised to come early. +</p> +<p>Whilst Bill was away, Mary Ann began upon the side of pork, hanging up in the kitchen; +cut off a sliver from the back, put the baker upon the brandes, and fried away. Before +she was satisfied, there was a great hole made in the side. Then, when the boys came +home from bal, they fried again; and, believe me, they <span class="corr" id="xd33e1616" title="Source: were’nt">weren’t</span> satisfied before nearly half the side was cut off, except the bones. Then, when Bill +came home, she had to cut into the leg to have a little for his supper. By Saturday +night there was nothing left of the pig but thin flaps of belly-pieces, one shoulder, +and pile of bones. She was puzzled to contrive a feasten dinner out of that for a +hungry Zennor man, who would eat the bit of <span class="pageNum" id="pb63">[<a href="#pb63">63</a>]</span>beef and look over his shoulder for more! At length she determined to make a pie of +all the odds and ends she sould scrape off the bones, the thin bits of skin from the +belly, and other scraps. +</p> +<p>Now, you know, one may make a pie of a’most anything and pascen off for what one will. +If she could have got plenty of parsley she might have passed’n off for a veal-and-paasley +pie, she thought; because Zennor folks never get any better veal than “staggering +bob” (a calf killed before it can stand steady.) The pie was baked, bit of beef cooked, +and plenty of petates boiled (whether there was cabbage or turnips I can’t say;) when +<i>two</i> Zennor men arrived and were ready for dinner. +</p> +<p>“This es my cousin Mathey,” said the man invited, pushing the other forward; “he’s +come for company to me, and he’s one of our best singers. Es late now for church, +I spose, but he will sing to <span class="corr" title="Source: e">’e</span> after denner, for we’ve none better than Mathey for singan that pretty psalm about +the precious ointment runnan down from Aaron’s beard to the skirts of his coat, or +t’other pretty one about a timmersome bird.” Bill said nothing, for he knew that Zennor +men think themselves welcome to feast or funeral, for the sake of their singing. +</p> +<p>They soon finished the bit of beef; then Mary Ann helped them to pie; and even these +goats of Zennor men, whose diet when home es fish and potates every day of the week +and conger-pie of a Sunday for a change, turned up their noses at the mess of “glit” +she put on their plates; then they tried the pie-crust, and found that too dry and +hard, though they arn’t particular, as they get nothing but conger-fat put in their +cakes and pie-crust at home; that will make them eat short enuf ef somewhat nasty. +They stopped to have a cup of tea, but that was hardly coloured, except with the scaled +milk and brown sugar; and the cake she made with scroves (remains of lard which has +been melted), the only fat left. How she could ever manage to bake anything so as +to know when et was ready I can’t tell, I’m sure, for she hadn’t so much as a hour-glass +to keep time. +</p> +<p>Well, the two feasters <span class="corr" id="xd33e1633" title="Source: could’nt">couldn’t</span> be without seean what a bad plight Bill was in, and all through his wife’s bad management; +they took pity upon am, and, when passan the Square on their way home, asked him into +“The Kings Arms,” and treated am to a glass or two of beer. +</p> +<p>So much for Bills feast last year, and this they’ll have none at all. +</p> +<p>An Jenny took the meal, which the miller’s daughter had serged for her, and brought +it to the door. On her coming into the light I noticed that her dress was different +from that usually worn by working women. Instead of a bed-gown, skirt, and check apron, +or a “towser,” she was attired in a long-waisted gown and kirtle <span class="pageNum" id="pb64">[<a href="#pb64">64</a>]</span>over a quilted petticoat, all of some dark stuff. Her abundant grey hair was turned +back over a pad, or cushion, which was crossed by her cap-border, also turned back +on a broad ribbon around her head; and a small silk hat, fixed jauntily on one side, +finished her head-dress. She also wore a necklace of curious, old-fashioned green +and red flowered beads, coated with clear white glass, and large hooped-shaped earrings. +</p> +<p>Her figure was remarkably tall, slim, and upright, and her face what is usually called +long-featured, with a high forehead, straight nose, and pointed chin. +</p> +<p>“Polly would like to set the mill-women a dancing,” said she; “and I han’t forgotten +all my steps yet, as you shall see.” Holding out her dress she then showed off several +dancing steps with much liveliness, and was preparing for others when the dame of +the mill opened the door from her dwelling, and called out, “Come <span class="corr" title="Source: e">’e</span> along in, do, like a good boy, I’ve had a cake baked and tea made this ever so long.” +The sprightly old damsel then took her bag of meal and went away. +</p> +<p>Young Oliver, being gone to buy corn of the neighbouring farmers, and having to await +his return, I was glad to pass the time with An Polly. The dwelling-room, entered +from the mill, was a long one, with a large open fireplace at the inner end; a small +side window near it. All the room was either in strong light or deep shadow, and this +old building of the mill and dwelling together, both within and without, afforded +good subjects for an artist. +</p> +<p>“Well, I should think you liked Miss Jenefer (Genevere) and her stories better than +tea; for I’ve called <span class="corr" title="Source: e">’e</span> ever so many times. What had she to say about Mary Ann’s boys chasean a pig into +a peeth?” +</p> +<p>Having told An Polly what Jenefer said about it, and of Bill’s poor feast, “May the +Lord forgive the old faggot!” said she, “I never can. Only to think she should make +out that one of her parish wed ever be treated by a Zennor man in his own Churchtown, +and on the Feasten Sunday too. No, Bill wed eat’s hat rather than suffer such a disgrace +as that. Her whole story es made out of an old ‘bam’ told in other parishes about +poor tinners tryan to keep up the feast as best they cud. Can <span class="corr" title="Source: e">’e</span> tell whose new house they were talkan about when she got into her ‘fegary’ weth the +poor woman she abused so?” +</p> +<p>“I didn’t hear any name mentioned,” I replied; “they were talkan about a planched +parlour when I entered the mill; yet, from what Jenny afterwards said, it’s one of +her relations.” +</p> +<p>“Her relations,” returned An Polly, “she han’t got a near one in the world, nor has +she ever had one since she was left an orphan when quite a child. Then the nearest +she had were the two old <span class="pageNum" id="pb65">[<a href="#pb65">65</a>]</span>ladies of Kellinack, who took her as their own; they were only her grandfather’s sisters; +and then, when she was about thirteen, with those old ladies she must have heard scores +of such stories. Where she could find any kindred near enow to be called relations +when her great aunts died, I can’t tell. Yet if you believe her, all the old families +of the parish are her kindred; most of them poor folks, whose forefathers owned lands +in the parish; there are such sudden ups-and-downs here that some of the Ellises may +have made a sturt and be building a house. By her account, and theirs as well, they +are all from the same family as the owner of Brea. She says too that the Veals, now +all very poor, once owned much lands in this parish and Sancras; so they must be her +cousins, of course. +</p> +<p>Yet Mary Ann thought to curry favour weth the crazy old thing by speakan with scorn +of such as the other would term upstarts, when none of her kindred, to get knittan +or spinan done for her. +</p> +<p>Now, when Jenefer do have a tiff with anyone, she’ll rake up all the old defaming +stories she ever heard, turn them upside down or inside out, till she can make them +fit to her mind, and then fix them on any one disliked by her. +</p> +<p>That story of a woman scaldan her own painted pig, and her boys chasan of’n into a +peeth was told about a spiteful woman before Mary Ann was born or thought of. ’Tes +merely an old droll, such as used to be told of winters’ nights. When such stories +were in vogue people regarded them as fables, by which none but fools would be deceived; +and from them much worth rememberan was learnt. Now I’ll tell <span class="corr" title="Source: e">’e</span> the old droll, told in other parishes, of the poor tinner’s feast, that you may see +the changes made by Miss Jenefer. +</p> +<p>“Yet they are no greater,” continued the old dame, after taking a pinch of snuff, +“than were purposely made by old story-tellers, and looked for by their hearers, when +the same drolls were often repeated of winters’ nights.<span class="corr" id="xd33e1673" title="Not in source">”</span> +</p> +<p>Having told An Polly that I would much like to hear more of the old ladies of Kellinack, +as I’d often heard them spoken of, but never by any one who remembered them well. +“Ef I once begin to talk about these old dears,” said she, “I shall never know where +to stop; ask Uncle John Williams, the old man of Dowran, you know am very well, and +he can tell more about them than anybody else. Uncle John, when a youngster, used +to keep their garden in order, plant their beds of peppermint, sow summer savory; +and often go with them to collect herbs for distillan and makean ointments. +</p> +<p><span class="corr" id="xd33e1677" title="Not in source">“</span>They much liked to doctor their neighbours, and themselves too; though there was nothing +in the world amiss with them. Yet they <span class="pageNum" id="pb66">[<a href="#pb66">66</a>]</span>were very skilful, and made better <a class="noteRef" id="xd33e1681src" href="#xd33e1681" title="Go to note 1.">1</a>skawdower ointment than one cud get anywhere else. That salve, of their makean, was +better than any doctor’s stuff for curean a skin disease which was very common in +their time, when people lived more on salt pork and fish than they do now, and had +but little greens, or any other garden sass. Often enow then ef poor people <span class="corr" id="xd33e1687" title="Source: had’nt">hadn’t</span> fish, it was +</p> +<div class="lgouter"> +<p class="line">“Pease-porridge hot, pease-porridge cold, +</p> +<p class="line">Pease-porridge in the crock nine days old.”</p> +</div> +<p class="first">“They made an excellent eye-salve, too, with cellandine, that growed about on their +old garden walls; and people came from miles away to get a bit of it for sore eyes. +</p> +<p>“The old dears left Miss Jenny a great oak chest full of grand old fashioned cloathes, +more than she can ever wear out ef she shud live to be as old as Methuselah. +</p> +<p><span class="corr" id="xd33e1697" title="Not in source">“</span>They are much too fine for common use, and only fit for one who may sit down all day +long like +</p> +<div class="lgouter"> +<p class="line">“The King up in his chamber, countan of his money, +</p> +<p class="line">Or the Queen in her parlour eatan bread and honey.”</p> +</div> +<p class="first">“Why didn’t <span class="corr" title="Source: e">’e</span> invite Miss Jenny to take a cup of tea too?” I asked. “She tea! she can’t abide’n,” +replied An Polly; “that’s one of her whimsies, some people say; she’s very welcome, +I’m sure. +</p> +<p>“Nearly all her diet is gerty-milk. She will trot away miles to get a few gallons +of pillas,<a class="noteRef" id="xd33e1709src" href="#xd33e1709" title="Go to note 2.">2</a>—over along to Morvah, or Zennor, because few people grow et now in St. Just. She +do manage et the same as olk folk always ded. Two or three quarts of the grain es +damped, weth her, at a time; then put into a small tray; kept a purpose, till its +beginning to <span class="corr" id="xd33e1712" title="Source: “">‘</span>cheeny’ ” (to show signs of being ready to sprout.) “The tray es put upon her chimney-stool, +where et may have a little warmth. As soon as there’s the least sign of the pillas +bean ready to throw out a shoot it’s put into a ‘baker’ on a slow fire, and stirred +all the time till well dried and ‘scroched’ a little. Roastan of pillas es a very +nice job, that but few can be trusted to do; yet it’s worth all the labour. The change +made in the grain, for the better, <span class="corr" id="xd33e1715" title="Source: wed’nt">wedn’t</span> be believed by anybody not acquainted weth it. +</p> +<p>“It must be left to ‘cheeney’ only till the grains become sweet and ‘plum’ (soft) +enough to crush between one’s finger and thumb. When roasted and spread out on a cloth +to cool Miss Jenny’s plan es to put a handful or two at a time into as pretty a little +moorstone traff (trough) as ever eyes ded see and pound’n till crushed fine enow—the +‘crusher’ es a handy ‘bowl’ (pebble) picked up from the sea-shoar. +<span class="pageNum" id="pb67">[<a href="#pb67">67</a>]</span></p> +<p>“You ought to see her beautiful little pillas-traff; et will only hold about a gallon; +es as smooth as a basen inside and out; and es so light that one can move ’n about +with ease. Miss Jenny had’n boft from Kellinack, where et had been used for hundreds +of years for the same purpose. Old people used to take much the same plan weth their +pillas; they are too lazy now, and buy oatmeal from shops, or thicken their milk with +barley-flour; yet neither of them is half so good as the pillas-gerts that used to +be grown by most everybody here who had a few acres of land. There was much other +good food made with pillas, the gerts, mind ’e, always prepared as I’ve told ’e; et +made a nicer baked puddan than flour or rice. Above all, a little ov’n was often used +to help out malt, when good old housewives wanted to have their ale extra strong. +</p> +<p>“At length—and that was jest as far back as I can remember—the cussed excisemen interfered +with old women puttan their pillas to ‘cheeney.’ I’ve heard Miss Jenefer say that +her Aunts and others detested them more than they ded the press-gang. Excisemen were +all ‘foreigners’ (strangers to the county) then, for no West Country man wed belong +to such a crew. They wed come about, every now and then, mostly when the men were +away to bal, and rummage every hole and corner in search of bay salt,<a class="noteRef" id="xd33e1724src" href="#xd33e1724" title="Go to note 3.">3</a> liquor, and other goods, brought from over sea by the poor men, at the risk of their +lives; and ef they found ever so little pillas-gerts, et was seized and a fine threaten’d, +for they caled’n malt. +</p> +<p>“Besides, I’m afraid that we shan’t have a little coarse salt brought here again, +by the fisher-women, at a reasonable price for a long time; the excisemen have found +out that there are trap-hatches in the floors of nearly all dwellans where the fisher +folk live—over cellars. When the way was clear, the fisher-women drawed up salt with +bags and lines. Now ‘all the fat es in the fire;’ a heedless harum-scarum fool of +a woman hurred away to meetan without takan care to see that the hatch-boards were +down snug upon the beams. Whilst she was out, the exciseman, going his rounds, entered +the cellar and saw the contrivance. On puttan hes head up through the hatch, he saw +that all the sand, with which the floor had been covered, was swept away and a good +lot of salt left on the floor. On examinan other dwellans, over fish-cellars, he found +trap-hatches in nearly all of them. There’s ben the devil of a row amongst them ever +sence; all the other women are ready to kill that thoughtless fool; and—serve her +right. I pray to goodness that they may soon find some other way to fool the plague +of an exciseman, I do. +</p> +<p>“You know seine-owners are allowed what salt they require to <span class="pageNum" id="pb68">[<a href="#pb68">68</a>]</span>cure their fish, duty free. They seldom use all their stock and know what es——” +</p> +<p>“Mother! Mother!” cried Lovey, “stop do, tellan about the excisemen; never fear but +the Bay women will be a match for them yet. You are gettan all crankey because we +have but little ‘fair-trade’ now; yet live in hopes that times will mend, and tell +us the old droll that Miss Jenny twisted into her story of Bill’s feast.” +</p> +<p>Over a while An Polly became more tranquil and told us the following story, which +she called “a mere bam of a Droll.” +</p> +<p></p> +<div class="figure p068width"><img src="images/p068.png" alt="Old woman with pointed hat and pig." width="197" height="281"></div><p> +<span class="pageNum" id="pb69">[<a href="#pb69">69</a>]</span></p> +</div> +<div class="footnotes"> +<hr class="fnsep"> +<div class="footnote-body"> +<div class="fndiv" id="xd33e1681"> +<p class="footnote"><span class="fnlabel"><a class="noteRef" href="#xd33e1681src" title="Return to note 1 in text.">1</a></span> The herb <span lang="la">scrophularia aquatica</span>. <a class="fnarrow" href="#xd33e1681src" title="Return to note 1 in text.">↑</a></p> +</div> +<div class="fndiv" id="xd33e1709"> +<p class="footnote"><span class="fnlabel"><a class="noteRef" href="#xd33e1709src" title="Return to note 2 in text.">2</a></span> Avena nuda. <a class="fnarrow" href="#xd33e1709src" title="Return to note 2 in text.">↑</a></p> +</div> +<div class="fndiv" id="xd33e1724"> +<p class="footnote"><span class="fnlabel"><a class="noteRef" href="#xd33e1724src" title="Return to note 3 in text.">3</a></span> At that time the duty on salt was 4d. per pound; and, at the low price for which pork +was then sold, it took nearly the value of one side of a carcase to buy enough salt +to cure the other side. <a class="fnarrow" href="#xd33e1724src" title="Return to note 3 in text.">↑</a></p> +</div> +</div> +</div> +</div> +<div id="ch11" class="div1 chapter"><span class="pageNum">[<a title="Go to the table of contents" href="#xd33e235">Contents</a>]</span><div class="divHead"> +<h2 class="main">AN OLD DROLL ABOUT A POOR TINNER’S FEAST.</h2> +</div> +<div class="divBody"> +<p class="first">What the miller’s wife said of the old “droll” about a tinner’s feast was to the following +effect:— +</p> +<p>A poor tinner was determined to keep his parish feast as well as he could, that he +<span class="corr" id="xd33e1745" title="Source: might’nt">mightn’t</span> be looked down on, and sneered at by his comrades. He killed his pig before it was +as fat as it should be; sold one side in Hallantide market; and left the other home +to be put in the “kool” against winter. A piece of beef and other things were bought +to keep a decent feast. The tinner whilst stopping at the Market Cross, in the Green +Market, fell in with a Zennor man who had been an old comrade. The Santuster asked +him into the public-house to take a pint, and they had pint upon pint, all at the +tinner’s cost; the other never once offered to stand treat; yet the tinner was so +glad to have met his old mate that he invited him over to feast, and the other said +he’d come, with a half a word of asking. +</p> +<p>The tinner’s wife put all the pork left at home in salt, except the “leans,” and saved +them to make a good pie the Feasten Sunday. She made the “hinges” (liver and light) +and other things serve them till then. +</p> +<p>On Feasten Day the beef was boiled with such vegetables as were liked in broth; and +dumplings made of great Hallan apples; a good “leans of pork pie” and “figgy” pudding +baked. She had made a good cake on Feasten Eve; and that, when cold, had been placed +upon a shelf over the window, just opposite the table. +</p> +<p>They waited a good bit after their usual dinner-time, and, no feaster having arrived, +the tinner began to think he might have promised to come on the Monday (he didn’t +remember clearly what passed between them in the public-house;) so his wife laid by +the beef, the pie, and the pudding till next day, in case the feasters might then +come, so as to be provided for them. They made their own dinner, and a very good one +too, of broth and the apple dumplings. +</p> +<p>When she was going to take the table-cloth off, in came the Zennor man and his wife. +The tinner thought then he must have asked his old mate to bring her. Next came in +half-a-dozen <span class="pageNum" id="pb70">[<a href="#pb70">70</a>]</span>or more children. “Thusey (these) arn’t all mine,” said the feaster; <span class="corr" id="xd33e1755" title="Not in source">“</span>some of ‘themey’ are her sisters cheldran” pointing to his wife; “but they cried to +go to feast too, as their cousins were goan.” +</p> +<p>The tinner’s wife said nothing, and the children took the window-seat, without telling, +that being their place at home. +</p> +<p>All the tinner’s children had gone away out to play with their companions. The feaster +and his wife being seated on the form outside the table, the beef, pork-pie, and such +vegetables as were then in use were placed on the board. +</p> +<p>“You needn’t cut away the beef for the cheldran,” said the Zennor man, “give them +a basin of brath a piece.” +</p> +<p>“No, we waan’t have brath,” cried the youngsters, “for we’ll have flesh too.” +</p> +<p>In short, beef and pie were soon served out and devoured. The tinner’s wife had, happily, +kept her pudding in the spence out of sight, when she found that her feasters would +neither eat bread nor vegetables with their meat. On turnips, carrots, and cabbage +being offered them, “No, no, thank <span class="corr" title="Source: e">’e</span>, all the same,” said they, “for we’ve plenty of ‘themey’ home: we can eat the fat +with the lean, and the whole will go down together, honey sweet.” +</p> +<p>There was nothing left on the table, in the way of meat, but the beef-bones, almost +bare. +</p> +<p>The pie was all eaten, and the children were licking out the dish, as they did at +home, when in came an old couple and seated themselves on a bench at the lower end +of the board. +</p> +<p>“We arn’t come to feast,” said the old man, “for we wern’t asked, and we’ve had dennar +hours ago; but granny couldn’t rest for thinkan about the cheldran, fearan they might +run into shafts and other dangerous places over this way. After you have all finished +your dennar, we’ll sing to ’e, for I and the old oman both belong to our Church choir. +</p> +<p>“You know, I spose, that Zennor people have always been famous singers, and et must +be long ago when a meremaid left the sea, changed her shape, and came to Church, dressed +like a lady, all to hear our singers. She ‘comed,’ Sunday after Sunday, and singed +so sweet herself that she, at last, enticed away a young fellow called Mathey Trewella, +son to the church’warn, and neither of them have ever ben sen sence—that es, upon +land, for I waan’t tell <span class="corr" title="Source: e">’e</span> a word of a lie and know et. You’ve heard, I spose, that in rememberance of this +meremaid, her form, as sen in the sea, or of another like her, was carved on the bench-end +on which she sat and singed so sweet right opposite Trewella up in the singan-laft +(gallery); and even our cheldran are born singers, as you shall hear bem by, you shall.” +</p> +<p>“We want more flesh, granfer, we do,” cried the young singers. +<span class="pageNum" id="pb71">[<a href="#pb71">71</a>]</span></p> +<p>“And seeman to me, I cud eat a mouthful of beef, too,” said granny; “ef you cud cut +a little off themey bones. I like to pick the bones, for you know we say the nearer +the bone the sweeter the flesh.” +</p> +<p>The tinner placed a pewter platter, with all that remained of the beef, before this +dear old couple: then the old man took from his pocket a clasp knife and scraped the +bones, when the youthful singers again cried, “We want more flesh, granny, we haan’t +had half enough.” +</p> +<p>The old grandame, in her eagerness to clutch the scrapings, got her fingers cut, and +slapped the old man’s face with her bloody hand. The tinner’s wife had a tender heart, +poor woman; and, being grieved to hear the children crying, put a “baker” on the “brandes,” +took from the bussa (earthen crock) a piece of nice streaky pork, and fried it for +them. +</p> +<p>Just then it was that the younger Zennor woman, in looking about for something more, +spied the feasten cake, on a shelf over the window. +</p> +<p>“Whatever ded <span class="corr" title="Source: e">’e</span> put that cake there, right in my sight for?” cried she, turning round to the tinner’s +wife, and then said to her own husband, sitting beside her; “Hold my hands behind +my back, do, that I mayn’t touch myself anywhere in sight till I’ve had a piece of +that cake; for fear I mark the cheeld weth that cake. I’m in as bad a condition now +as the poor oman who langed for treacle, and dipped the twopenny loaf she had in her +hand, into a barl of tar, and dedn’t find out her mistake till she had eaten nearly +all the bread,—her mind was so runan upon treacle, poor dear oman.” +</p> +<p>The cake was at once taken down and cut up<span class="corr" id="xd33e1790" title="Source: ,">.</span> The feasters all, young and old, wanted a piece, and nothing of it was left—not even +the “bruyans” (crumbs.) Then the youthful singers cried again because their bellies +ached. +</p> +<p>“Don’t <span class="corr" title="Source: e">’e</span> cry, my dears,” said their granny, “the ‘quaffan’ (fulsomeness) will pass away when +on the road home; hush dears, we shan’t stop much longer.” +</p> +<p>When they had sat to eat, drink, and “squat” (stuff themselves) till they were ready +to burst, they all straddled away as fast as they were able with the heavy loads they +bore in their stomachs, and without so much as once asking the tinner to their own +feast in return. +</p> +<p>“Now, any one with a grain of gumption may see,” said the old miller’s wife, “how +Jenefer made up her story out of this old ‘bam,’ just like the actors in a guise-dance +changing parts. The passon do say that our drolls and guise-dances are hundreds of +years old, and well worth preserving.” +</p> +<p>It appeared, from what the old miller’s wife afterwards said that <span class="pageNum" id="pb72">[<a href="#pb72">72</a>]</span>Miss Jenefer was crazy on the subject of her kindred, and that she had none so near +as to be called relations. If any persons crossed her, when mounted on this hobby, +she would go at them, “full tilt,” like she did at the poor woman who spoke scornfully +of a “planched” parlour, or of its owners, whom the crazed old damsel claimed as her +kinsfolk. +</p> +<p>Yet most people liked the old maid very well and humoured her whims, as far as they +could remember them. +</p> +<p>Like a true Santuster she’ll never bear a “coresy” (a grudge, or ill-will) against +anybody for long, but have it out and be friends. Besides she’s just as good a story-teller +as the old blind droll teller and ballad-singer, Anthoney James, who takes a turn +round the county every summer, and passes the winters in Plymouth, with other old +pensioners. When living there he is often fetched to gentlemen’s houses where there +is company who like to hear him tell his “Drake Droll,” and sing old ballads all about +Sir Francis and privateering. +</p> +<p>The arrival of An Polly’s big happy-looking son put an end to her stories, for the +time. +</p> +<p></p> +<div class="figure p072width"><img src="images/p072.png" alt="Group of dancing people." width="190" height="150"></div><p> +<span class="pageNum" id="pb73">[<a href="#pb73">73</a>]</span></p> +</div> +</div> +<div id="ch12" class="div1 chapter"><span class="pageNum">[<a title="Go to the table of contents" href="#xd33e241">Contents</a>]</span><div class="divHead"> +<h2 class="main">A MADRON FEAST OF FIFTY YEARS AGO.</h2> +</div> +<div class="divBody"> +<p class="first">It may be remembered that Dick Rostram, on taking leave of Mary Angwin and her husband, +on his return from St. Just feast, asked them to come to feast with him at Madrontide; +and be sure and come early, that they might go to Church and hear the organ. Mary +knew where he lived in Back Lane, as she had often noticed his little dwelling when +going to Mr. Luke’s brewery for barm. But Dick saw nothing of them in the three weeks +between the two Tides. Jackey and Mary had expended more money in providing for their +feast than would have served them a month, in their usual frugal way of living; and +Christmas being near, bringing with it bills to be paid, they lived very carefully, +in the interval, buying the few groceries they wanted in Churchtown. +</p> +<p>Dick, too, was much occupied and busier than he needed to have been, owing to his +conceit that unless he had a hand in almost every kind of work going on in the establishment +to which he belonged it would be badly done. When the warehouses were arranged to +his mind he would go into the shop, to see if he were wanted there; if there was nothing +else to do he would take a bundle of Moore’s Almanacks, containing his master’s advertisements, +and away out in the market, calling them. But this was more an excuse for talking +with any one who came in his way than anything else. If Dick met nobody to chat with, +he would talk to himself for hours together, practising crabbed questions and answers. +</p> +<p>Then, before the time of wholesale drug-millers, every druggist made his own preparations, +and his apprentices had often something like real work, in using the pestle and mortar, +if there were no other person to do it. +</p> +<p>Dick, from long practice, had great dexterity in using the pestle and thought the +young men of the shop spoiled the drugs by their irregular action and feebleness of +arm; and the youngsters encouraged a conceit which led to their own ease. +</p> +<p>Dick felt proud when pounding things that might kill or cure, and thought himself +an important member of the medical profession. In working up resinous gums he would +beat slowly, at first, that <span class="pageNum" id="pb74">[<a href="#pb74">74</a>]</span>they might’n warm by the friction, repeating to himself the words “linger and live” +to keep time. The sticky substances being pounded and mixed with dryer things, he’d +sing a lively old ballad and keep time with the pestle. Getting louder as he proceeded, +the chemist’s big bell-metal mortar would be heard ringing merrily all over the Market-place, +as he hammered away and sung until the drugs were sufficiently worked. +</p> +<p>Dick’s mouth always kept in motion with the pestle, just like a fiddler’s with his +bow. The master humoured his cranky ways when not too troublesome, and, in return, +he always confirmed what his master said, though he knew nothing whatever about the +matter; but that only made it the more generous of this old jewel of a servant, by +showing his undoubting faith in his master’s words. +</p> +<p>Madron Feasten Eve was, as usual, a very busy time in shops, and the one to which +Dick belonged dealing in groceries and other articles, as well as drugs, customers +kept coming until very late, and, by the time he got home, had drunk a small bottle +of porter, which was his custom of a Saturday night, and went to bed, it was past +midnight. “But never mind,” said Dick, in closing an outside shutter to his bedroom +window, “this blessed shutter will keep out the daylight, and I’ll have a good long +snooze in the morning.” The ground making a rapid descent from Back-lane to Market-jew-street, +Dick’s bedroom window was only a few feet above the road, and his bed near it. +</p> +<p>An hour or more before most working men in Penzance are accustomed to rise of a Sunday +morning, Dick was disturbed by a knocking on his window-shutter. “Hallo, you stupid +thing,” cried he, “hast a forgotten the day of the week? Go thee way’st to ‘milky,’ +I don’t want to rise for hours yet.” He thought, or dreamt, that the noise was made +by a girl going to milk the cows, kept in a shed near, and who was in the habit of +rousing him on week days, by his request, as she passed if the shutters were closed. +</p> +<p>Whilst he was still muttering something about a fool of a woman, Mary stepped back +from the window and said to Jackey, just behind, “Aw, what fools we were to hurry +away so early; there’s nobody down yet any where in town that I can see but the bakers; +we arn’t expected, I suppose.” “Fools, sure enough,” returned Jackey, “instead of +hearing the organ we are come to hear Dick snoaring, but I don’t think he was awake. +Knock again, and speak to’n; he’ll know your voice.” Over a few minutes she tapped +on the shutter again. “Why I’ve told thee,” said Dick, “that I don’t want to rise +yet; go along home.” “Why, hav’e forgotten that you asked me to feast?” said Mary, +in a tremulous voice<span class="corr" id="xd33e1828" title="Source: ,">.</span> “Asked ’e to feast, ded I, perhaps I ded,” replied Dick; “I’ve asked scores, I bla, +merely for the sake of asking, and that they <span class="pageNum" id="pb75">[<a href="#pb75">75</a>]</span>might have it to say they feel proud to tell their neighbours how they have been invited +to Penzance to feast, but you ought to know ’tes manners to ask and manners to refuse.” +“There now, think of that for a change,” said Mary to her husband, “lev us begone +home again. The little cake I brought in will serve us for a stay-stomach till we +get to New Bridge and have something more.” “We’ll do no such thing,” returned he; +“I am’at without a few shillings in my pocket; lev us begone to the old public-house +where we always put up and leave there this couple of rabbits that I’ve brought in +for Dick.” “No, no, le’s begone before the people throng the streets. I’d rather be +on the top of Dry Carn than in the best house in this town.” “Sa, sa,” said Jackey, +“I’ve a good mind to try again mysel and make sure that he’s awake; he may be just +like I am sometimes of a Sunday morning, after a drop too much of a Saturday night: +the third time may be lucky.” +</p> +<p>Saying this he gave some thundering blows with his stick on the shutter, and bellowed +out “Dick, art a wakean yet, my sonny? Get up and see who’s here, or, by golls, I’ll +smash thy confounded shutter.” “Lord help me, as I’m a sinner,” cried Dick, “why that’s +Jackey’s voice; I’ll be down in a jiffy, my son; where’s Mary? Open the court door +and come in.” “We tried that door first and found’n barred,” replied Jackey. +</p> +<p>By the time the feasters reached the yard-door they heard Dick shouting “I’m coming, +Mary,” whilst hurriedly washing face and hands. +</p> +<p>Dick unbarred the door, and welcomed them heartily. +</p> +<p>“I deserve a sound kolpan (beating with rope’s end) for laying a bed so late,” said +he, “and forget it’s Feasten Sunday, and that you would be in early.” “Here, take +these instead,” said Jackey, laying the rabbits across Dick’s shoulder; “hang them +up and they will keep for days, as they were killed only yesterday.” “Take a dram +and cake, first thing,” said the delighted host, putting a bottle of rum, some cake, +and glasses on the table, to make them drink and eat whilst lighting his fire. +</p> +<p>Tea being made, and bread, butter, and cheese placed on the table, Dick took a jug +and said “I’m going to the ‘Golden Lion’ (inn) for milk; it’s always taken up there +for me; the landlady is a good woman as ever lived; she’s just such another as her +sister out in your Churchtown.” +</p> +<p>When Dick’s back was turned, Mary put the cake she brought for him into his cupboard +and told him nothing about it. Shortly he returned with milk and a large plate, heaping +full of boiled ham. “The dear mistress cut this ham herself,” said he, “on my telling +her that I’d feasters from St. Just. Now you must turn to and make a hearty breakfast.” +“I’ve slept late, sure ’nuf, this morning,” said Dick, “though a woman, in going to +milky, called <span class="pageNum" id="pb76">[<a href="#pb76">76</a>]</span>me, as usual with her on week day mornings; but I slept soundly again till Jackey +roused me out of bed. The bakers will have their oven hot shortly, and I must take +our dinner there to be cooked; that bake-house is a blessing to people living near +it. Making sure you’d be in, I got a pair of ducks and a piece of beef, and we’ll +have a rabbit-pie too.” +</p> +<p>“Then keep the ducks or beef till another day,” said Mary, “we don’t want three dishes +unless you expect more feasters.” “We’ll have them all three,” returned Dick, “and +eat what we like best; I don’t expect anybody else.” +</p> +<p>An hour or so before noon the pie was made, ducks and beef, with potatoes to roast, +were put on tins all ready for the oven, when Dick and his two feasters marched off +to the bake-house, each one taking a dish. +</p> +<p>The feasters wondered to see so much to be cooked, and however the bakers would contrive +to dress all the geese, ducks, and other things, as Mary remarked on their return. +“Now arn’t they good fellows, to work so hard on a Sunday, that we poor folks may +have a holiday then?” said Dick. “Nearly all the neighbours who haven’t the new-fashioned +contrivances, called slabs, send their meat to the bakehouse, though they say of some +bakers, but not of ours, that +</p> +<div class="lgouter"> +<p class="line">‘They cut the meat both ready and raw, +</p> +<p class="line">Skim the fat, and pinch the dough;<span class="corr" id="xd33e1850" title="Not in source">’</span></p> +</div> +<p class="first">and one can’t blame them if they take a little, now and then, for working so hard +of a Sunday.” +</p> +<p>“They well deserve it, poor fellows,” said Jackey, “I’d rather work to bal for my +part.” +</p> +<p>Public ovens being heated with furze, bakers had a very laborious occupation; and, +almost all their customers having ducks or geese at Madrontide, made it much harder +at that particular season. +</p> +<p>The old bachelor, anxious to entertain his visitors handsomely, was “as busy as a +hen with one chick,” and his restlessness made them uncomfortable. On coming in he +placed on the table tobacco and new long pipes; then, thinking he ought to have a +pudding, he proceeded to get the materials for making one, till Mary stopped him by +saying he should do nothing of the sort, as what they had taken to the bakehouse would +be a capital dinner without it. +</p> +<p>“Sit thee down, mate,” said Jackey, “and touch pipe a bit; lev Mary do the rest about +dinner.” +</p> +<p>At last he sat down for a few minutes, and Jackey said, “This es a comfortable little +place, large enough for one man and a cat; it’s like a town house on this side; looking +downwards you see plenty of walls and roofs, with a glimpse of sky, and have the morning +sun, when there’s any going; that’s as much as one can <span class="pageNum" id="pb77">[<a href="#pb77">77</a>]</span>expect in town; and, on ’tother side, it’s like being in the country with green fields +all the way up from Leskenack, and trees growing on the hedge and overhanging the +lane.” +</p> +<p>“Aye, I’m better off here by far,” replied the happy occupier of two small rooms, +“than hundreds who live in other parts of the town where the old gardens and courts +are built on with dwellings for poor people, who are glad to get under a roof anywhere +near their work.” +</p> +<p>When Dick thought his dinner ready, he and his guests fetched it from the bakehouse, +each bearing a dish. +</p> +<p>Vegetables had been boiled and ale fetched in the meanwhile. Having good appetites +they enjoyed their dinner and praised the bakers. +</p> +<p>Whilst drinking their toddy, and the men smoking, in the afternoon, Dick asked, between +puffs, if Mary knew how Conny Trevail’s pig was come? “Why I never heard there was +anything amiss with n,” replied she, “and I saw long-legged Conny, as we call her, +yesterday, gadding about from house to house, as usual, to hear and tell the news, +her clothes all in ‘skethans’ (strips), and one would think she liked them so, for +she’ll never sew up a ‘skate’ (rent) so long as the pieces hang together; and her +stockings (never darned) have the holes dragged together, tell their tops won’t reach +her garters. But what made you ask about her pig?” In reply Dick told the story which +follows, somewhat abridged. +</p> +<p>“On the last Thursday Conny came into the druggist’s shop, in great ‘stroath’ (fussy +haste), her hair all hanging about her face, her bonnet tied down weth a ‘nackan’ +(handkerchief) and cloak all on one shoulder. +</p> +<p>“Going to the master, she asked if he could give her anything to do her pig good. +‘What’s the matter weth n?’ asked he in return. ‘Es like a thing bewitched,’ said +Conny, ‘a’ll neither live nor die, and the best mait I can give n es all muzzled out +of the ‘traff’ weth n, and es gone to skin and bone. I knaw a was begrudged to me +when I was in price for n. I was in two minds when I left home whether a was best +to go to the ‘pellar’ or come to you, but now I’m here I’ll try what you can do.’ +</p> +<p>“ ‘You can have something that may bring the pig to an appetite,’ said the druggist, +‘ef you give it as I’ll direct <span class="corr" title="Source: e">’e</span>.’ +</p> +<p>“Having put up some powders, he told Conny she must thoroughly clean the pig’s trough, +wash it out, and have it sweet; then give the pig fresh food, and a little of the +powders, two or three times a day. ‘The medicine comes to sixpence.’ +</p> +<p>“ ‘Gracious me; es a lot of money,’ said she, ‘and are <span class="corr" title="Source: e">’e</span> sure a’ll do the pig good.’ ‘I can tell <span class="corr" title="Source: e">’e</span> as truly as if I’d been a conjuror,’ answered the druggist, ‘that if you do as I’ve +told <span class="corr" title="Source: e">’e</span>, by next Thursday this time your pig will either be better or worse, or much <span class="pageNum" id="pb78">[<a href="#pb78">78</a>]</span>the same.’ ‘Aw, thank’e sar,’ said Conny, ‘I’ll pay the money with a good heart, now +you’ve told me that.’ +</p> +<p>“The druggist having taken the money went into the house. Now Dick had been at the +mortar all the time, but pounding easily, that he might hear what passed, and get +in a word if he found the chance. +</p> +<p>“Conny turned to leave the shop, but, seeing Dick, she came over to him with the drugs +in her hand, and said, ‘Dost a think, you, that this ‘trade’ ‘ll do any good at all? +I wish I’d gone to the pellar, for his work es sure, ef a do charge three shellans +before he’ll do anything to stop the witchcraft.’ +</p> +<p>“ ‘Well, you heard what master said,’ replied Dick, ‘and I firmly believe him.’ +</p> +<p>“ ‘Now I’ll tell thee what I’ll do before I’m a day older,’ said she, ‘to serve out +that strollop who begrudged me the pig, and ef her ill wishes have fallen upon am +I’ll make her suffer torments. The conjuror can’t tell me any more than I know about +that. I’ll bury the bottle of water before night ef I can; she shall come to me and +beg, and pray, and promise never to ill-wish anything belongan to me agen, she shall.’ +Dick told her to make haste home, and let him know how the pig got on the next time +she came to town.” +</p> +<p>“Aw the old fool,” said Jackey, when the story was ended. “But she is no worse than +scores of others who put more faith in the conjuror than in a doctor. She’s too lazy +to clean the pig’s trough, or mend her clothes, yet she’d go a score miles or more +to consult the pellar. There are many that might be expected to know better than old +Conny who will visit the pellar and pay him well to have what they call their protection +renewed in a few months more. This is done when the sun is coming back and getting +strong—the wise-man has more power then—about the end of March, so they believe; and +soon after the time of visiting the pellar, old Tammy, his wife will ride round the +West Country, bringing the ‘protection’ to such as are unable to go for it. Old bedlyers +have it put into their pillows; others wear it on the breast.” +</p> +<p>An hour or so before sunset, Jackey becoming tired of being shut up in Dick’s bird-cage +of a dwelling, and wishing to breathe sweet country air, said to his wife, “Es time +for us to be jogging home along.” +</p> +<p>“You must have tea first,” said Dick, “then I’ll go part of road wh’y.” +</p> +<p>“Take your hat and pipe and come now,” replied Jackey; “we don’t want tea, and Mary +had a cup after dinner; she can get home before we want any more.” +</p> +<p>They started—all three—and went down along joyfully; and so ended their Penzance feast. +<span class="pageNum" id="pb79">[<a href="#pb79">79</a>]</span></p> +<p>On taking leave of Dick, a mile or two from town, Mary told him to search his cupboard +when he got home,—she never told him of the cake she’d put there for him. They were +satisfied on the whole, yet glad to get home, and never wished to go again. +</p> +<hr class="tb"><p> +</p> +<p>Fifty years ago, and longer, Madron Feast was dying out. The principal people were +strangers there, who cared nothing for the parish feast, and had no sympathy with +the old inhabitants or their customs. +</p> +<p>There is no remembrance or tradition of Madrontide ever having been kept heartily, +by “One and all,” like St. Just feast, nor of any holiday-games on their Feasten Monday, +such as wrestling, hurling, throwing quoits, &c. The old game called “kook” was a +trial of casting quoits the farthest and nearest to goal. This is all but forgotten. +As for hurling, it is now unknown, in every place west of Hayle, except at St. Ives, +and there only in the mild form of hurling to the goal. On the feast their silver +ball is aired for a short time on Permester Sand. +</p> +<p>What is here known as a pellar’s “protection” is usually two or three inches of parchment +inscribed with planetary and other signs or cabalistic words. It is a mystery how +these inscriptions were first acquired, as they are not found in any books which were +likely to have come into the hands of our wise-men; and the words are quite unlike +charms for the cure of many ailments. These are grounded on Christian legends, but +the Pellar’s “protections” have nothing Christian in their construction. They are +probably of greater antiquity than the said charms. +</p> +<p>As an example, here is the only one I have met with which can be given in type. The +others have all, more or less, signs and figures which would require woodcuts to show +them. +</p> +<div class="table"> +<table> +<tr> +<td class="cell-left cell-top">R </td> +<td class="cell-top">O </td> +<td class="cell-top">T </td> +<td class="cell-top">A </td> +<td class="cell-right cell-top">S</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="cell-left">O </td> +<td>P </td> +<td>E </td> +<td>R </td> +<td class="cell-right">A</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="cell-left">T </td> +<td>E </td> +<td>N </td> +<td>E </td> +<td class="cell-right">T</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="cell-left">A </td> +<td>R </td> +<td>E </td> +<td>P </td> +<td class="cell-right">O</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="cell-left cell-bottom">S </td> +<td class="cell-bottom">A </td> +<td class="cell-bottom">T </td> +<td class="cell-bottom">O </td> +<td class="cell-right cell-bottom">R</td> +</tr> +</table> +</div><p> +</p> +<p>This magic square may be read four ways the same; beginning at the top, it must be +read from right to left as Sator, Arepo, &c. This is the case with some others of +the Pellar’s talismans. Our wise-men (call them conjurors if you please, but they +do not like the term) have no knowledge whence their <i>formulæ</i> were obtained, nor what the name of “pellar” means. Yet it is probably a corruption +of the old Cornish word “pystryor” which means a conjuror or magician. The name of +wizard is unknown here amongst old folk who have no book-learning. +<span class="pageNum" id="pb80">[<a href="#pb80">80</a>]</span></p> +</div> +</div> +<div id="ch13" class="div1 chapter"><span class="pageNum">[<a title="Go to the table of contents" href="#xd33e247">Contents</a>]</span><div class="divHead"> +<h2 class="main">ZENNOR HEARTHSIDE STORIES.</h2> +<div class="epigraph"> +<div class="lgouter"> +<p class="line">“And each, in turn, would some fond theme relate; +</p> +<p class="line">Not of perplexing plans to mend the State, +</p> +<p class="line">But seriously renew some oft-told tale, +</p> +<p class="line">Or ancient legend of some spectre pale, +</p> +<p class="line">Or wondrous deeds by their good fathers done, +</p> +<p class="line">And stories strange, long passed, denied by none.”</p> +</div> +<p class="first xd33e759"><span class="sc">John Williams.</span></p> +</div> +</div> +<div class="divBody"> +<p class="first">Being on the road to Zennor with a stranger to Cornwall, who wished to see all he +could of the place and people, we had the good luck to fall in with a very intelligent +old miner, returning to his home from Ding Dong. He at once entered into conversation +with that ease and candour for which the true Cornish have ever been remarkable. +</p> +<p>Our destination for the night being Zennor churchtown, and his cottage not being far +out of our road, we gladly accepted his invitation to accompany him home and rest +awhile; the more so as we were soon sensible that our companionship was mutually agreeable. +</p> +<p>Our comrades’ constant flow of joke and story, told in the quaint way so peculiar +to Droll-tellers of the West, made the time pass unobserved, until we found that night +was closing around us as we sat by his fireside, when (wishing to retain some of the +tinner’s peculiar words, old proverbs, and the novel points of some rare drolls) the +stranger produced pencil and paper. The writing materials seemed to suggest +</p> +<div class="lgouter"> +<p class="line">‘A chield’s amang ye, taking notes, +</p> +<p class="line">And faith he’ll prent it,’</p> +</div> +<p class="first">as our very communicative friend ‘fought shy’ all at once. After we had assured him +that nothing of what he told us should be published without his consent, he gave the +reason for his sudden reticence; which, as he no longer objected to taking notes, +I will give in his own language. +</p> +<p>My old friend began by saying, <span class="corr" id="xd33e1993" title="Source: ‘">“</span>The reason I felt a dislike to your writing down any of the foolish drolls I have +been telling is because many have lately published stories pretended to be Cornish +which would make strangers think us void of common sense, and that our lingo is such +a gibberish as was never jabbered in this <span class="pageNum" id="pb81">[<a href="#pb81">81</a>]</span>world nor any other. They should remember the old saying about foul birds dirting +their own nests. True, I remember the time when many used more old Cornish words, +and spoke broader than we do now; as, for example, in St. Just, where I was born and +bred. In the ‘daddy,’ ‘mammy,’ and ‘porridge’ days we called the cape the caape; and +the hall we called the hale. Then, over a while we got a good schoolmaster among us, +and came to ‘father,’ ‘mother,’ and ‘broth.’ We learned to say the ‘cape’ and ‘hall,’ +just like other folks. At last, what they called good times came, and, would ye believe +it? many of the St. Tusters,—the ‘red-tailed droans,’—got so rich and proud that nothing +would do but they must send their boys and girls away to boarding school. When they +came back it was nothing but ‘pa,’ ‘ma,’ and ‘soup,’ and ‘will you take a walk down +to the keep?’ The poor old ‘hale’ was then refined into ‘hele,’ with their confounded +mincing, unless they called it a ‘parlour.’ A ‘parlour,’ forsooth. It was but the +old hale, make the most of it. Besides, I was rather shy when the paper came in sight, +because we have many manners and customs which appear singular to strangers, when +they first come among us, although we, who are raised in the midst of them, think +all our ways quite natural, and that it must be the same everywhere else. Faith, before +a spell of bad times came, and sent me and a good many other Cousin Johneys off to +the Lakes and Mineral Point for a time, where I believe many of us would have stopped +and sent home for our families if it were not for the cursed kick-up the Yankies made +about their darkies, and old Virginia’s shore. Well, before we crossed the herring-pool +I was as bad as the old woman down in St. Ives, who was four score and had never been +over the hill farther than the top of the Stennack, before Whitfield came one Sunday +to preach on Trecroben, when all the town went to hear him. The old dame, among the +rest, reached the top of the hill, and looking round, declared she never thought the +world was half so large before, and supposed the hills she could see far away must +be in France, or Spain, or <span class="corr" id="xd33e1998" title="Source: perphaps">perhaps</span> some of the foreign countries she had read of in the Bible. +</p> +<p>“I found when I came back from Yankee-land that a lot of our Cousin Johneys who had +learned to read and write a little had been telling what they called Cornish stories +to enlighten strangers; but, the traitors, they have been telling such a lot of stuff +as is only likely to turn their own country and comrades into ridicule. Those who +try to make fun of their mates for the amusement of strangers, or for the sake of +showing off their own fancied superiority, should have their windpipes slit, or their +bread-bags ripped up, the dastardly crew.” +</p> +<p>When we were about to leave, our old friend said “My dears, if you must go to Zennor +churchtown for the night, let me beg of ye <span class="pageNum" id="pb82">[<a href="#pb82">82</a>]</span>don’t take the people you may meet with there for a fair sample of Cornish folks; +that’s the only place in the County where the cow ate the bell-rope and no wonder +the poor half-starved thing should have gone into the belfry and eaten the straw rope +that’s fixed to their old crazy kettle, for their cattle are half-starved in winter +and when they die off in spring they are sure to think they were bewitched, and off +they go to the pellar to know who the old crone is that owes them a grudge? The church +is well worth seeing, if they have not destroyed the curious old carved-work that +used to be there. You need not be surprised if they have, as they but lately allowed +one of their largest quoits (cromlechs) to be broken up and carried off. +</p> +<p>“In the next parish, where they live on fish and potatoes every day, with conger-pie +for a change on a Sunday they arn’t much better. +</p> +<p>“Towednack people say that the devil would never let them raise their tower any higher—a +good thing to have some one to put the fault on, if it’s only Old Nick; but, whatever +he should get up a storm and blow the stones down for, if they only attempt to place +pinnacles on their stumpy tower, it’s hard to say; yet such is the story Towednack +folks will tell ye. +</p> +<p>“About St. Ives, too, the less said the better. I wouldn’t advise you to go there, +unless you can bear the sight and smell of all that’s filthy, without having your +stomach turned. +</p> +<p>“But, Lord, what can one expect of the people who whipped the hake round the market? +When you come round to Lelant you will get among civilized people again, and it’s +well worth going farther to see Trecroben hill and its giant’s castle, with the giant’s +chair on Trink hill, and many other places, which you have no doubt heard of.” We +passed a few days, however, very pleasantly amongst Zennor folk; and gleaned the following +stories, &c., of this section from them. +</p> +<p>We reached Zennor churchtown about eight o’clock, and found very fair accommodation +at the public-house; as good, indeed, as one might expect in such a retired district. +</p> +<p>By the kitchen fire, were seated four elderly men, who appeared to be well pleased +with their ale and each others company. The chief talker of these four old cronies +was the captain or manager of Zennor tin-stamps. +</p> +<p>He said much about the witches and tin-streamers who lived in Trewey or Trewey-bottom, +long ago; and of Kerrow and other ancient hamlets, with the people who dwelt there +in days of yore. +</p> +<p>During the evening, Cap’n Henny, as they called him, spoke of a retired seaman who +had been much troubled by a shipmate’s ghost, until he plucked up courage and spoke +to his old comrade’s spirit. One story brought up another, till it was near midnight, +when the company left for their homes. +<span class="pageNum" id="pb83">[<a href="#pb83">83</a>]</span></p> +<p>The hostess said, that Jackey (her husband) was gone over to Trevidja to gulthise<a class="noteRef" id="xd33e2019src" href="#xd33e2019" title="Go to note 1.">1</a>, if he should be home to-morrow, he would tell us some stories she believed to be +true, because her husband knew the people the stories were told of; “but as for Uncle +Henny’s,” said she, “they are all, or nearly all, about people who lived so long ago +that one don’t know whether they’re true or no.” +</p> +<hr class="tb"><p> +</p> +<p>The schoolmaster referred to, Mr. John Davey, was well versed in various branches +of mathematics, and took good care that his pupils should be thoroughly grounded in +the most practically useful problems. Many young miners of St. Just acquired such +a taste for geometry about this time that the boards, &c., near mine-workings were +often found covered with diagrams from Euclid. They hit on the Chinese method of demonstrating +the famous <span class="corr" id="xd33e2026" title="Corrected by author from: 32nd">47th</span> problem, 1st book, by drawing the diagram to a scale, producing the squares of the +three sides, dividing them into small squares by scale, thus proving that the sum +of the squares of the two lesser sides was equal to the square of the larger. With +many other problems of the same class, they took similar practical means of demonstration +and were not slow to see their application. Mr. <span class="corr" id="xd33e2029" title="Source: Davy">Davey</span> and his pupils also took great pride in answering mathematical queries proposed in +the ‘Ladies and Gentlemen’s Diary,’ and other magazines of this period. Nor did he +neglect general literature for the more practical subjects, as an anecdote, which +was told me by a pupil of Mr. Davey, will prove:—This young man was much addicted +to spending his evenings in public-houses for the sake of having company and excitement +more than from any love of drink. +</p> +<p>Being in Penzance Market, and seeing some curious old books, illustrated with rare +engravings, and knowing that Mr. <span class="corr" id="xd33e2034" title="Source: Davy">Davey</span> was fond of such works, he bought two or three volumes for the sake of gratifying +the old gentleman, not attempting to understand them himself. One was an odd volume +of Shakespeare, containing some of the historical plays; another Spenser’s Faerie +Queene; the other Goldsmith’s poems and plays. Mr. <span class="corr" id="xd33e2037" title="Source: Davy">Davey</span> pointed out the most beautiful passages in the plays of the royal Henrys, and explained +the history of the time of these dramas, helping him at the same time to enjoy the +beauties of Fairy-land and all its revelries. The young miner no longer wanted public-house +amusements. Before the winter was over, with a small portion of the money he would +have wasted, but for the delight he had in <span class="pageNum" id="pb84">[<a href="#pb84">84</a>]</span>reading the old volumes over and over again, he bought complete editions of Shakespeare, +Spenser, &c., and soon acquired a good acquaintance with many of the best English +authors. +</p> +<p>A few years afterwards he received a hurt at the mine, which disabled him for hard +work, when he opened a school in Buryan Churchtown, which procured him a comfortable +<span class="corr" id="xd33e2044" title="Source: maintainance">maintenance</span>, and his greatest pleasure seemed to be to speak of his old master with love and +gratitude. +</p> +<p>No doubt much of the superior intelligence of St. Just men of the present time is +owing to the training of the excellent old schoolmaster, who was altogether a remarkable +man for the time and place. We want more such schoolmasters and fewer preachers in +the West. +</p> +</div> +<div class="footnotes"> +<hr class="fnsep"> +<div class="footnote-body"> +<div class="fndiv" id="xd33e2019"> +<p class="footnote"><span class="fnlabel"><a class="noteRef" href="#xd33e2019src" title="Return to note 1 in text.">1</a></span> Literally corn-feast; the last day of corn carrying, when neighbours usually assist +each other, then have a good supper and carouse. <a class="fnarrow" href="#xd33e2019src" title="Return to note 1 in text.">↑</a></p> +</div> +</div> +</div> +</div> +<div id="ch14" class="div1 chapter"><span class="pageNum">[<a title="Go to the table of contents" href="#xd33e253">Contents</a>]</span><div class="divHead"> +<h2 class="main">THE SEAMAN’S GHOST.</h2> +</div> +<div class="divBody"> +<p class="first">James <span class="sic">Botterell</span>, one of the St. Just family of that name, after having served many years aboard a +privateer when he was a young man, in Bonaparte’s time, settled in Zennor, about fifty +years ago. Shortly after he left sea, he was much troubled with a drowned shipmate’s +ghost. Towards the morning part of a stormy winter’s night, he was aroused by three +loud raps on his chamber window; and, on raising his head, he saw standing by his +bedside the apparition of one John Jones, who had been his favourite comrade—looking +pale and sad, and, apparently, dripping wet. In a few minutes it disappeared with +the misty light which surrounded it. +</p> +<p>Next day James tried to persuade himself that the vision might be merely a troubled +dream, but the apparition continued to come on each succeeding night, stopping longer +than at first. There was also much noise and disturbance in and around his dwelling, +by day as well as by night. +</p> +<p>Over a week or so the ghost, often casting an angry look at the man, followed him +about in broad daylight, so that James became weary of his life. His friends advised +him to speak to the ghost and have confidence, as they had always been good friends; +they <span class="pageNum" id="pb85">[<a href="#pb85">85</a>]</span>told him that a spirit would never speak until spoken to; and they believed that his +shipmate merely wanted him to do something that the ghost was unable to perform. Moreover, +they warned him that there was danger to be apprehended when a spirit was angered +by delay in speaking to it. +</p> +<p>At length James plucked up courage, and one day, being at work in a field, when his +old mate’s ghost stood by him—as usual, looking sad and angry by turns—he spoke, and +said, “Tell me, John Jones, what shall I do to give thee rest?” The spirit replied, +“It is well thou hast spoken, for I should have been the death of thee if thou hadst +much longer refused to speak! What grieved and vexed me most was to see that thou +seemedst to fear thy old comrade, who always liked thee the best of all his shipmates.” +</p> +<p>“I no longer fear thee, Jack,” replied James; “and wish I could grasp that hand of +thine as in times gone by.” Indeed, he now felt no more dread of his messmate’s ghost +than if he were still a living man. The spirit, looking pleased, said, “Now I see +thee art like thyself again, staunch and true to thy comrade in life and death. Listen +and learn why I am come to seek thy aid. The other stormy night, a few minutes before +I first appeared at thy bedside, I was on board a good ship in the Bay of Biscay, +with a strong gale and a rolling sea. In clewing up a topsail, the ship gave a lurch: +I lost my hold, fell overboard, and was drowned before anybody noticed my mishap. +When sinking I thought of thee. Now much of my prize-money is in a chest, left in +Plymouth at a public-house well-known to thee—the one we used most to frequent, when +everything was in common between us. My son, I want thee to go thither; take my chest +to another house; pay what I owe to various people in Plymouth, and keep what remains +for thyself. I’ll meet thee there and direct thee how to act.” +</p> +<p>Jim having promised to do all that was required, Jack’s ghost looked happy, and a +moment after said, “I wish thee well, mate, till we meet again,” and disappeared. +</p> +<p>Early next morning James took a strong young horse and rode away to Plymouth. It was +after candlelighting of the second night when he arrived there, and put up at an inn—a +short distance from the one where the chest was left. +</p> +<p>Whilst he lay awake, thinking how he should proceed on the morrow, Jones appeared +by his bedside, and, as if knowing what passed in the man’s mind, said, “Don’t <span class="corr" title="Source: e">’e</span> think, my son, that the landlady will make any difficulty about taking away the chest, +for she don’t know, d’ye see, that it contains valuables, nor that I shipped aboard +an Indiaman and got drowned a few weeks ago. But she remembers how—not long since—we +wore each other’s clothes and shared each other’s rhino, just as brothers should. +<span class="pageNum" id="pb86">[<a href="#pb86">86</a>]</span>Tell her I’m in town and will see her before I leave! To-morrow bring here the chest +and I’ll direct <span class="corr" title="Source: e">’e</span> how to deal with my creditors; and now good night, mate.” Saying this he vanished. +</p> +<p>The landlady was very glad to see James, and more so to have the sailor’s chest taken +out of her way; told him to give her love to Captain Jones (as she called him), and +to say she hoped he wouldn’t fail to call before he left port. The chest being opened, +there was nothing to be seen in it but the seaman’s best clothing; for all the money +was concealed in secret drawers of the skibbet, and under a false bottom. The ghost +accompanied James—though invisible to others—all the time, until the business was +settled. Then it left him—without saying good bye, however. +</p> +<p>James went over to Dock. Whilst he was there admiring the shipping, on turning around +he saw Jones close beside him. If he had been visible to other people they would have +taken him for an able seaman in his prime, for he appeared rigged out in <span class="corr" id="xd33e2077" title="Source: bran">brand</span> new sailor’s garb and looked hale and hearty as when alive. “I’ve just passed by +the old inn,” said he, “showed myself as I now appear, and kissed my hand to our old +hostess, who was at her work near an open window; but, before she could reach her +door to welcome home the man she used to admire, lo! I’m here. So you see it’s convenient +to be a ghost!” +</p> +<p>James didn’t think so, however; and they walked on in silence till they came near +a fine ship ready to sail on a long voyage. Then the spirit stopped, and, looking +sorrowfully in the man’s face said, “My dear Jim, I will now bid thee farewell. I’m +off to sea again, for, with an occasional trip to the Green, I know no way of passing +the time that better suits me.<span id="xd33e2083"></span> Thou wilt nevermore see me whilst thou art alive, but if thou thinkest of me at the +hour of thy death we shall meet, as soon as the breath leaves thy body. My poor clay +lies deep in the Bay of Biscay, and when thine is laid in Zennor churchyard we will +rove the seas together. A truehearted tar has nothing to fear, and now my son adieu.” +A moment after James saw him glide aboard the ship, and in the twinkling of an eye +he vanished. +</p> +<p>James returned to the inn, feeling very wisht, and his sadness continued till he came +in sight of Zennor Hills. Then he felt in pretty good heart; and well he might, for +hadn’t he brought home a bundle of capital clothes that he found in his comrade’s +chest and many more pounds in his pocket than when he left Zennor? But the horse was +never fit for anything again, from having been ridden to and from Plymouth in less +than a week. +</p> +<p>Sailors say that ships are often haunted with drowned seamen’s ghosts, and they believe +that such vessels are seldom wrecked, for the friendly spirits give warning of approaching +tempests, and tokens of other dangers to their craft. +<span class="pageNum" id="pb87">[<a href="#pb87">87</a>]</span></p> +<hr class="tb"><p> +</p> +<p><span class="sc">Cornish Sailors’ Isle of Avalon.</span> — It is known to most persons who have mixed much with Cornish sailors that they +often speak of the “Green,” which they frequently call Fiddler’s Green amongst themselves. +They describe this place as an “Isle of the Blest,” in which honest Tars, after the +toils of this life, are to enjoy unmixed bliss with their old comrades and favourite +fair ones. In orchards of fruit, ever ripe, they are to be entertained with music, +dancing, and everything else in which they delighted in their lifetime. The idea of +this Fairy Land is probably derived from Celtic mythology, as well as that of +</p> +<div class="lgouter"> +<p class="line">“The island valley of Avilion, +</p> +<p class="line">Where falls not hail, or rain, or snow; +</p> +<p class="line">Nor ever wind blows loudly; but it lies +</p> +<p class="line">Deep-meadow’d, happy, fair with orchard lawns, +</p> +<p class="line">And bowery hollows crown’d with summer seas.”</p> +</div> +<p class="first">Thither King Arthur was wafted in a barge with three fair queens when his table, man +by man, +</p> +<div class="lgouter"> +<p class="line">“Had fallen in Lyonness about their Lord.”</p> +</div> +<p class="first">Breton and Welsh sailors have similar notions. +</p> +<p></p> +<div class="figure p087width"><img src="images/p087.png" alt="Sailing-ship at sea." width="210" height="213"></div><p> +<span class="pageNum" id="pb88">[<a href="#pb88">88</a>]</span></p> +</div> +</div> +<div id="ch15" class="div1 chapter"><span class="pageNum">[<a title="Go to the table of contents" href="#xd33e259">Contents</a>]</span><div class="divHead"> +<h2 class="main">THE OLD WOMAN’S GHOST.</h2> +</div> +<div class="divBody"> +<p class="first">Not long since there lived at Trewey, in Zennor, a poor and aged woman, who much loved +her neighbour’s little girl, and, when dying, bequeathed to her a shawl, which was +all she had to leave of any value. +</p> +<p>The departed woman’s wish, however, was disregarded; and a few evenings after her +funeral, the child would burst out in shrieks. On being asked what made her screech +so, “Oh! there’s An Katty,” cried she, “with her face tied up in a white nackan and +nothing on her but a sheet!” Thus the old woman’s ghost continued to haunt her; until +one evening a strong man, of great faith, took the child and carried her out of doors, +when, over a while, the little girl exclaimed, “Oh, there she es again.” Then the +man saw the spirit too, and said to her, “In the name of goodness I command thee to +tell me why thou art come back to trouble this cheeld?” The spirit answered, “Because +the shawl isn’t given to the cheeld, I cannot rest.” Then the man said he would see +her wish complied with, bade her depart in peace, and told her that if she hadn’t +been “an old fool of a sperat, she would have scared the ones who kept the shawl and +have left the cheeld alone!” By that, the ghost had vanished, without saying another +word. +</p> +<p>The same night the shawl was given to the cheeld, and Trewey folks thought that all +was then settled with the old woman; but, in the course of two or three evenings, +the little girl, being out in the town-place with her playmates, was taken up over +the furze-ricks by invisible means, and borne away out of sight in a minute. The other +children ran home frightened. +</p> +<p>She often stayed out in neighbours’ houses for hours together, so her mother didn’t +miss her till bedtime. Then, as the woman was going to look for her, in she came, +with only one shoe on. +</p> +<p>Being questioned as to where she had been to lose her shoe, the child answered that +she didn’t know—only that she was taken up over the “housen” and carried away as easy +as if she had been rocked in a cradle to a Churchtown with lots of trees in it, and +laid in the churchyard on a new grave; she saw nobody, but heard like singing around +her; somebody kissed her; then she shivered with cold, and was again carried up over +the trees and back to her own town-place. She believed that her shoe was loosened +as she skimmed the tree-tops, but where it dropped she couldn’t tell. +</p> +<p>From what the child said, all Trewey people thought she had been <span class="pageNum" id="pb89">[<a href="#pb89">89</a>]</span>taken to Ludgvan, where the old woman was buried; and it was put beyond doubt next +day, when her missing shoe was found on the old woman’s grave. There it was left; +for the old woman “might want something belonging to the child, to put her to rest,” +and nobody would risk bringing her back again for the sake of a shoe. +</p> +<p>And she has “kept quiet” from that day to this. +</p> +<hr class="tb"><p> +</p> +<p>The stranger, by the way of applauding this story, or the droll-teller, exclaimed, +“Hear, hear, and cheers!” “Iss, they’re all in rags and tatters,” said the landlady, +who was laying the table, “es the confounded children’s work; they’re always pullan +the heer (hair) out of the cheers, od drat tham.” When the gentleman explained that +no allusion was made to her chairs, the jolly dame laughed heartily at her mistake, +and speaking to the story-teller said, “Cap’n Henny, don’t ’e tell any more stories +about sperats, lev es have the St. Ives mutton feast, or somethan cheerful.” +</p> +<p>Then the man who had told the two preceding drolls recited the following verses. +</p> +</div> +</div> +<div id="ch16" class="div1 chapter"><span class="pageNum">[<a title="Go to the table of contents" href="#xd33e265">Contents</a>]</span><div class="divHead"> +<h2 class="main">THE MUTTON FEAST AT ST. IVES.</h2> +</div> +<div class="divBody"> +<p class="first">An old tradition says that a flock of sheep were blown from Gwithian sands into St. +Ives Bay, and that St. Ives fishermen caught them, believing them to be a new variety +of fish, either with their nets, or with hook and line, and brought them ashore as +their night’s catch. +</p> +<p>About eighty years ago, Mr. Fortescue Hitchins wrote the following verses on this +tradition. +</p> +<div class="lgouter"> +<div class="lg"> +<p class="line">Sometime ago in days of yore, +</p> +<p class="line">On Cornwall’s northern sandy shore, +</p> +<p class="line">A borough town, as some folks say, +</p> +<p class="line">Stood on the margin of a bay; +</p> +<p class="line">And through all the country round +</p> +<p class="line">Its folks for wisdom were renowed. +</p> +</div> +<div class="lg"> +<p class="line">East of this famous borough’s bay +</p> +<p class="line">A barren, sandy common lay, +</p> +<p class="line">Where the farmers naught could keep, +</p> +<p class="line">Except some flocks of half-starved sheep. +</p> +</div> +<p><span class="pageNum" id="pb90">[<a href="#pb90">90</a>]</span></p> +<div class="lg"> +<p class="line">One dusky night the wind blew high, +</p> +<p class="line">Black, lowering clouds obscured the sky: +</p> +<p class="line">With furious sway the eastern blast +</p> +<p class="line">Swept all before it as it past; +</p> +<p class="line">Storm-driven stores of frighted sheep +</p> +<p class="line">Were hurried down the sandy steep; +</p> +<p class="line">Nor could they face the sweeping sway, +</p> +<p class="line">Which sent them headlong into sea. +</p> +</div> +<div class="lg"> +<p class="line">Bad are the winds, as all must know, +</p> +<p class="line">That never good to any blow; +</p> +<p class="line">Since two or three, at dawn of day, +</p> +<p class="line">Wreck-hunters ranging round the bay, +</p> +<p class="line">With joy beheld the fleecy flock +</p> +<p class="line">Lie dead around on sand and rock. +</p> +<p class="line">They, with good Ammon, when they spied, +</p> +<p class="line">Opened their throats and “heava!” cried. +</p> +<p class="line">This well-known sound aroused them all, +</p> +<p class="line">And out they tumbled great and small: +</p> +<p class="line">Fish-bulkers, chimney-sweepers, sailors, +</p> +<p class="line">Parson, clerk, tinkers, and tailors, +</p> +<p class="line">Coopers, crabpot-makers, cobblers, +</p> +<p class="line">Hewers, hake-whippers, and hoblers, +</p> +<p class="line">Boat-menders, seiners, and warp-hawlers, +</p> +<p class="line">And all the gape-mouth heava bawlers. +</p> +</div> +<div class="lg"> +<p class="line">With joy they see the mutton store, +</p> +<p class="line">And “heava” sound from shore to shore: +</p> +<p class="line">So counting honestly the sheep +</p> +<p class="line">A God-send from the stormy deep, +</p> +<p class="line">All hands turned-to, with wonderous pain, +</p> +<p class="line">To share the unexpected gain; +</p> +<p class="line">Brought home of mutton such a store +</p> +<p class="line">Which lasted them ten days or more; +</p> +<p class="line">And from each hide made shift to pull +</p> +<p class="line">Almost a pound-and-half of wool. +</p> +</div> +<div class="lg"> +<p class="line">Now, mutton roasted, mutton boiled, +</p> +<p class="line">And mutton fried, and baked, and broiled, +</p> +<p class="line">Which, savoury, smoaking from a dish, +</p> +<p class="line">Had almost drowned the smell of fish. +</p> +</div> +<div class="lg"> +<p class="line">Five days they watched the foaming tide, +</p> +<p class="line">Hoping more sheep might yet be spied. +</p> +<p class="line">And now and then their longing eyes +</p> +<p class="line">With joy salute the mutton prize; +</p> +<p class="line">And when, at length, a heavy sea +</p> +<p class="line">Has fairly thrown them in their way, +</p> +<p class="line">Surrounded like a flock of crows, +</p> +<p class="line">Which carrion want to fill their maws. +</p> +</div> +<div class="lg"> +<p class="line">Now those who have to feed on fish +</p> +<p class="line">Ten minutes took to enjoy that dish; +</p> +<p class="line">An hour now to dinner linger, +</p> +<p class="line">To pick the bones and lick their fingers. +</p> +</div> +<div class="lg"> +<p class="line">These thankful folks were heard to say— +</p> +<p class="line">“O blessed was that happy day +</p> +<p class="line">That brought such stormy sway to sweep +</p> +<p class="line">Into our Bay such flocks of sheep! +<span class="pageNum" id="pb91">[<a href="#pb91">91</a>]</span></p> +<p class="line">O might such storms, ten times a year, +</p> +<p class="line">Send such good store of such good cheer! +</p> +<p class="line">O that the storm would also bring +</p> +<p class="line">A few good ankers from the sling, +</p> +<p class="line">Buried by smugglers in the sea, +</p> +<p class="line">And throw them plump into our Bay! +</p> +</div> +<div class="lg"> +<p class="line">Then we lazy lubbers all +</p> +<p class="line">Might lean our backs against the wall, +</p> +<p class="line">And thankfully enjoy the sun,— +</p> +<p class="line">That would be glorious lazy fun!”</p> +</div> +</div> +<hr class="tb"> +<p>“Heava” is shouted from the high ground on which a watch is kept for pilchards as +soon as the “huers” signal their approach. These signals are made to seiners in the +boats, by the means of bushes, or wire-frames covered with white cloth. +</p> +<p>The cheering sound of “heava” no sooner reached St. Ives than it resounded from street +to street, and soon reached the country. +</p> +<p>It has been said that this word “heava” was either a contraction of “we have them, +or here they are;” but its origin is uncertain. +</p> +</div> +</div> +<div id="ch17" class="div1 chapter"><span class="pageNum">[<a title="Go to the table of contents" href="#xd33e271">Contents</a>]</span><div class="divHead"> +<h2 class="main">THE WITCH OF KERROW.</h2> +</div> +<div class="divBody"> +<p class="first">About seventy years ago, Sir Rose Price often started a hare near Kerrow, in Zennor. +His dogs would run it into the village, where it would always escape by entering a +“bolt” (drain) that ran from a pool up under a house, not far from the pool. At last, +one day the hunters loaded their guns to hinder it from escaping by that strange way. +Having started the hare it took the usual course, when one of the guards shot at it, +but didn’t kill it, for it went up town and entered the bolt as usual. Sir Rose lifted +the latch and, followed by some others, entered the dwelling to ask leave to open +the bolt, when lo! there, sitting on the hearthstone, they beheld an old woman of +the house, much bleeding about her head and face, with her hair all hanging down. +Beside her, on the chimney-stool, sat a monstrous big black cat, with his back up +and eyes like coals of fire, showing his teeth as if ready to spring at the intruders, +who turned tail and went away, without speaking a word, when they saw how they had +hunted and shot a witch. And not one of these hunters ever prospered after! At least +so runs the legend. +<span class="pageNum" id="pb92">[<a href="#pb92">92</a>]</span></p> +</div> +</div> +<div id="ch18" class="div1 chapter"><span class="pageNum">[<a title="Go to the table of contents" href="#xd33e277">Contents</a>]</span><div class="divHead"> +<h2 class="main">FAIRIES ON THE EASTERN GREEN.</h2> +</div> +<div class="divBody"> +<p class="first">Returning somewhat late on the following evening, from a long ramble to see remarkable +places in the neighbourhood, we found the manager of Zennor stamps and the other old +cronies seated in their accustomed places by the fireside. +</p> +<p>Shortly after the landlord came in from his work. He was a sturdy fellow of fifty +or thereaway, burnt as brown as a berry. Most of his time was passed at work on his +farm; he had a good size one for that part of Zennor, and the public-house was left +to his wife’s management. +</p> +<p>During the evening, after much coaxing, our host told the story which his wife had +spoken of as a true one: telling how a company of smugglers, of his acquaintance, +had been driven away from Market-jew Green by small-folks (fairies.) +</p> +<p>There is some hope that all the fairy-folk have not yet entirely forsaken this neighbourhood, +as there are persons now living who have seen them dancing and holding their revels +on the Eastern Green within the last fifty years. At that time, however, there were +many acres of grass-grown sandy banks there; and a broad belt of soft green-sward, +which skirted the carriage road, afforded a pleasant walk from Chyandour to Market-jew +bridge. +</p> +<p>Great part of this green has now been swept away by the waves, and much of what the +sea spared has been enclosed by the grasping owners of adjacent land, though their +right to this ancient common is very questionable. +</p> +<p>The following fairy adventure was told to me a short time since by a grave elderly +man who heard it related by the principal person concerned in it. +</p> +<p>Tom Warren, of Paul, was noted as one of the boldest smugglers round. On a summer’s +night, about forty years ago, he and five other men landed a boat-load of smuggled +goods at a short distance from Long Rock. The brandy, salt, &c., having been taken +above high-water mark, two of the men departed for Market-jew, where their best customers +lived, and one went over to Newtown to procure horses that the goods might be secured +before daybreak. +</p> +<p>Tom and the other two, being very tired, lay down by a heap of goods, hoping to get +a doze whilst their comrades were away. They were soon disturbed, however, by the +shrill “tweeting” of “feapers” (slit quills or reeds, which give a shrill note when +blown in.) Besides there was a constant tinkling, just like old <span class="pageNum" id="pb93">[<a href="#pb93">93</a>]</span>women make by rattling pewter plates or brass pans to frighten their swarming bees +home, or to make them settle. +</p> +<p>The men thought this noise might be from a company of young folks keeping up a dance +on the Green till a very late hour. Tom went to see who they were and to send them +home, for it wasn’t desirable for everybody to pry into the fair traders’ business. +Having passed the beach, he mounted a high sand-bank to have a look round, as the +music seemed very near him. +</p> +<p>At a little distance, in hollows, between sand-banks, he saw glimmering lights, and +persons like gaily dressed dolls skipping about and whirling round. Going nearer, +he beheld, perched on a pretty high bank in their midst, a score or so of little old-looking +chaps; many of them blew in mouth-organs (Pan’s pipes); some beat cymbals or tambourines; +whilst others played on jew’s-harps, or tweeted on May whistles and feapers. +</p> +<p>Tom noticed that the little men were rigged all in green, except their scarlet caps +(small people are so fond of that coloured head-gear that they used to be nick-named +“red-caps.”) But what struck him and tickled his fancy most was to see the little, +old, grave-looking pipers with their long beards wagging. +</p> +<p>In moving their mouths over the reeds, stuck in their breasts, they looked more like +buck goats than anything human, so Tom said; and that for the life of him he couldn’t +forbear shouting—“Will <span class="corr" title="Source: e">’e</span> be shaved—will <span class="corr" title="Source: e">’e</span> be shaved old red-caps?” +</p> +<p>He hailed them twice, and was about to do so again when all the dancers, with scores +and hundreds more than he noticed at first sprang up, ranged themselves in rank and +file; armed themselves in an instant with bows and arrows, spears and slings; then +faced about, looking like vengeance. The band being disposed alongside, played a quick +march, and the troops of “<span class="corr" id="xd33e2256" title="Source: sprigans">spriggans</span>” stamped on towards Tom, who saw them getting taller as they approached him. Their +threatening looks were so frightful that he turned tail and ran down to his comrades, +and roused them, saying, “Put to sea for your lives. There’s thousands of small people +and bucca-boos ’most on our backs! They’ll soon surround us!” +</p> +<p>Tom made off to the boat, and his comrades followed close at his heels; but, on the +way, a shower of pebbles fell on them, and “burned like coals ’o fire wherever they +hit them.” +</p> +<p>The men pulled many fathoms from shore before they ventured to look up, though they +knew themselves safe when on the sea, because none of the fairy tribe dare touch salt +water. +</p> +<p>At length, casting a glance landward, they saw, ranged along the shore, a company +of as ugly-looking creatures as they ever beheld, making threatening gestures and +vain endeavours to sling stones at them. +</p> +<p>When a furlong or so from land, the men rested on their oars, <span class="pageNum" id="pb94">[<a href="#pb94">94</a>]</span>and kept watching their assailants, till near daybreak; then horses being heard galloping +along the road from Market-jew, the small people retreated to the sand-banks and the +smugglers rowed to land. Tom again shouted to the retiring host, “We’ll shave <span class="corr" title="Source: e">’e</span> all, and cut your tails off, ef you ever show here any more.” But the fairies disdained +to notice his impudence and presently disappeared. +</p> +<p>The other smugglers, who were now on the beach with plenty of help, on seeing their +mates leaving the boat, inquired if the riding-officer had hove in sight. In such +a case smugglers usually took to sea that they might not be known; they didn’t mind +his seeing the goods, for the most valuable would be secured before the king’s men +came to take them. +</p> +<p>After spileing an anker (tapping a keg) and treating all the neighbours who came to +help or purchase, or both, Tom related how they had to run for their lives and take +to sea in order to escape an army of small-people. Some could scarcely believe it, +though others thought the story likely enow. All blamed Tom for mocking the fairies, +and said bad luck would cross his path, ere long, for that night’s work. Aye, and +their forebodings were verified before another summer came round. However, without +further mishap for that night, the goods were quickly disposed of—the greater part +in Market-jew, and the rest left at an old tin work, near the Marsh, till wanted. +</p> +<p>We have not heard of fairies having been seen on the Eastern Green since they were +thus shamefully derided by Tom Warren. +</p> +<p>“They’re never was a better pare (company) of fair-traders than Tom and his mates,” +continued the landlord, “and they found good customers in the old well-to-do farmers +of Zennor, who dearly loved their toddy, the Lord rest them.” +</p> +<p></p> +<div class="figure p094width"><img src="images/p094.png" alt="Two piskies." width="226" height="216"></div><p> +<span class="pageNum" id="pb95">[<a href="#pb95">95</a>]</span></p> +</div> +</div> +<div id="ch19" class="div1 chapter"><span class="pageNum">[<a title="Go to the table of contents" href="#xd33e283">Contents</a>]</span><div class="divHead"> +<h2 class="main">THE LAST THREATENED INVASION:<br> +COMMOTION AND FALSE ALARM IN THE WEST.</h2> +</div> +<div class="divBody"> +<p class="first">The landlady had told her husband, when he came in from his work, that their stranger-guest +much wished to hear our old drolls and songs; and to see the remarkable places round +about. That was the chief reason why the master of the house was so desirous that +the company might tell something, of native growth, which a stranger might deem noteworthy. +</p> +<p>Having told the fairy-tale, our host, addressing his wife, said “now Jenny, I’ve told +that story to please thee, tell us how Betty Stags was served by a kindlier sort of +spriggans (sprites).” +</p> +<p>“When I’ve cleaned up a bit, perhaps I may,” replied she, “and Uncle Honney (Hanibal) +may sing us a song that while ef he will be so good.” +</p> +<p>“That I wed, weth all my heart,” said an old man belonging to the stamps, <span class="corr" id="xd33e2289" title="Not in source">“</span>ef we had one worth singan; but there’s none known, in these parts, good for anything. +Such cheerful songs and rare old ballads as we used to sing, to lighten our labour, +are all condemned now, and the singer cried down as ‘carnal-minded.’ In place of them +we hear nothan but revival hymns, and I for one can’t make out any sense in them.” +</p> +<p>“You have worked in bals up along as far as Dolcoath, or farther,” said our host, +“and I have surely heard ’e tell a song or an old ballad that you had heard up that +way long ago.” +</p> +<p>“But the west es I can’t tell enough of’n to make out the rhymes,” replied the old +man; “I only remember that when I was a youngster workan on the floors in Dolcoath, +about the time that Boney was expected to invade, and that his troops wed be landed +here in the West; et might be on Market-jew Green, or Gwenvor Sand, in Whitsand Bay, +out westward. Boney had flat-bottomed boats made, to be sent with the transport ships, +and in such boats his troops cud come ashore in shallow water.” +</p> +<p>“I only jest remember that time,” said another old man, “there was much alarm amongst +the farmers; the ‘guides’ were called out, and the cattle branded on horns and hoofs, +that they might be known to their owners, when all the stock belongan to a neighbourhood, +should be herded together, and drivan away up along, as it was expected they wed, +that the enemy should not come at them.” +<span class="pageNum" id="pb96">[<a href="#pb96">96</a>]</span></p> +<p>“Don’t ’e mind, too,” resumed Uncle Honney, “how notices were put upon Church doors, +and other places, forbiddan any bonfires to be made at Midsummer, lest they might +be mistaken for bickan-fires,<a class="noteRef" id="xd33e2298src" href="#xd33e2298" title="Go to note 1.">1</a> and give a false alarm, like Santusters ded, when they thoft the French had one night +landed on Gwenvor Sand, where the Danes used to come ashore and pillage the country +round. There were trusses of dry furze kept upon all the bickan-hills, ready for firan; +it was the women in Santust ’Chtown who raised the alarm and caused the bickans to +blaze from Chapel Carn Brea to Plymouth; troops were dispatched from garrison, but +they didn’t know where to take to, lost their way west of Falmouth, and were found +down in Gweek, a week after ‘jousters’ and other market-folk had brought news of this +false alarm to Falmouth. About that time it was when this song was often singed by +tinners around Redruth. +</p> +<p>“I don’t remember how the words were broft into rhymes mind ’e. Et said how Englishmen +had beaten the French over and over again; taken countries they once ruled over, had +them still, and meant to keep them too. Ef Boney’s men landed upon Cornish shores, +we wed beat them to bruss. Then it was said how the French were a ‘heap of poor pelyacks’<a class="noteRef" id="xd33e2303src" href="#xd33e2303" title="Go to note 2.">2</a> who, at home, had neither decent meat nor clothes; but were glad to catch quilkans,<a class="noteRef" id="xd33e2306src" href="#xd33e2306" title="Go to note 3.">3</a> bullhorns,<a class="noteRef" id="xd33e2309src" href="#xd33e2309" title="Go to note 4.">4</a> and padgy-paws;<a class="noteRef" id="xd33e2312src" href="#xd33e2312" title="Go to note 5.">5</a> and to stampy about in temberan shoes. +</p> +<p>“The burden, or running verse, that came in at every four lines was this:— +</p> +<div class="lgouter"> +<p class="line">‘They shall not eat of our good meat, +</p> +<p class="line">Our pelchers and petates.’ ”</p> +</div> +<p class="first">“There was an old Cornish Dialogue in verse, too,” said another old man, “which gave +much the same account.” +</p> +<p>“I should dearly like,” said the visitor, “to get copies of that song and dialogue, +or of as much as is known of them.” +</p> +<p>“That old piece Uncle Honney spoke of es forgotten among us,” replied our host, “but +I know another, not so old, that’s often told for Christmas pastime, in place of a +Guise-dance of St. George and the Turkish Knight; we’ll get’n up for ’e now, the same +as we do at Christmastide; ef Jenny will be Mal Treloar, I’ll take the part of Sandry +Kemp.” +</p> +<p>“That I will,” said our hostess, “and Uncle Honney can give me the word when I may +forget et, jest as he do to youngsters actan a Christmas play; he’ll speak for the +Cap’n, too, and say other bits requiran a third speaker.” +</p> +<p>The company having placed themselves as the landlady directed, gave the following +Cornish Dialogue: +<span class="pageNum" id="pb97">[<a href="#pb97">97</a>]</span></p> +</div> +<div class="footnotes"> +<hr class="fnsep"> +<div class="footnote-body"> +<div class="fndiv" id="xd33e2298"> +<p class="footnote"><span class="fnlabel"><a class="noteRef" href="#xd33e2298src" title="Return to note 1 in text.">1</a></span> Beacon. <a class="fnarrow" href="#xd33e2298src" title="Return to note 1 in text.">↑</a></p> +</div> +<div class="fndiv" id="xd33e2303"> +<p class="footnote"><span class="fnlabel"><a class="noteRef" href="#xd33e2303src" title="Return to note 2 in text.">2</a></span> Mean men. <a class="fnarrow" href="#xd33e2303src" title="Return to note 2 in text.">↑</a></p> +</div> +<div class="fndiv" id="xd33e2306"> +<p class="footnote"><span class="fnlabel"><a class="noteRef" href="#xd33e2306src" title="Return to note 3 in text.">3</a></span> Frogs. <a class="fnarrow" href="#xd33e2306src" title="Return to note 3 in text.">↑</a></p> +</div> +<div class="fndiv" id="xd33e2309"> +<p class="footnote"><span class="fnlabel"><a class="noteRef" href="#xd33e2309src" title="Return to note 4 in text.">4</a></span> Shell-snails. <a class="fnarrow" href="#xd33e2309src" title="Return to note 4 in text.">↑</a></p> +</div> +<div class="fndiv" id="xd33e2312"> +<p class="footnote"><span class="fnlabel"><a class="noteRef" href="#xd33e2312src" title="Return to note 5 in text.">5</a></span> Small Lizards. <a class="fnarrow" href="#xd33e2312src" title="Return to note 5 in text.">↑</a></p> +</div> +</div> +</div> +</div> +<div id="ch20" class="div1 chapter"><span class="pageNum">[<a title="Go to the table of contents" href="#xd33e289">Contents</a>]</span><div class="divHead"> +<h2 class="main">MAL TRELOARE AND SANDRY KEMP KISS AND BECOME GOOD FRIENDS AGAIN:<br> +OR<br> +BACKBITING CRULL OUTWITTED.</h2> +<div class="sp"> +<p class="line">’Twas Kendle teenan, when jung Mal Treloare +</p> +<p class="line">Trudg’d hum from Bal, a bucken copper ore; +</p> +<p class="line">Her clathing hard and ruff, black was her eye, +</p> +<p class="line">Her face and arms like stuff from Cairn Kye. +</p> +<p class="line">Full butt she mit jung Sandry Kemp, who long +</p> +<p class="line">She had been token’d to, come from Ding Dong; +</p> +<p class="line">Hes jacket wet, his faace rud like his beard, +</p> +<p class="line">And through his squarded hat hes heer appeared. +</p> +<p class="line">She said, “Oh Kemp, I thoft of thee well leer, +</p> +<p class="line">Thees naw that daay we wor to Bougheehere, +</p> +<p class="line">That daay with ale and cakes, at three o’clock, +</p> +<p class="line">Thees stuff’d me so, I jist neen crack’d me dock: +</p> +<p class="line">Jue said to me, ‘Thee mayst depend thee life +</p> +<p class="line">I love thee, Mal, and thee shust be ma wife.’ +</p> +<p class="line">And to ma semmen, tes good to lem ma naw +</p> +<p class="line">Whether the words were aal in jest or no.”</p> +</div> +<div class="sp"> +<p class="speaker"><i>Sandry.</i>—</p> +<p class="line">Why, truly, Mal, I like a thing did zay +</p> +<p class="line">That I wud have thee next Chewiden daay. +</p> +<p class="line">But zence that time I like a thing ded hear +</p> +<p class="line">Thees went wi’ some one down, I naw where; +</p> +<p class="line">Now es that fitty, Mal? What dost think?</p> +</div> +<div class="sp"> +<p class="speaker"><i>Mal.</i>—</p> +<p class="line">Od rat tha body, Sandry, who said so? +</p> +<p class="line">Now, faath and traath, I’ll naw afore I go; +</p> +<p class="line">Do lem ma naw the Gossenbary dog.</p> +</div> +<div class="sp"> +<p class="speaker"><i>Sandry.</i>—</p> +<p class="line">Why, then, Crull said jue wor down to Wheal Bog +</p> +<p class="line">With he and Tabban, and ded play some tricks +</p> +<p class="line">By dabben clay at jungsters makan bricks; +</p> +<p class="line">Aand that from there jue went to Aafe-waye house, +</p> +<p class="line">Aand drink’t some lecker. Mal, now there’s down souse. +</p> +<p class="line">Aand jue to he, like a think ded zay, +</p> +<p class="line">Jue wed have he, and I mait go away.</p> +</div> +<div class="sp"> +<p class="speaker"><i>Mal.</i>—</p> +<p class="line">I tell the lubber so! I to Wheal Bog! +</p> +<p class="line">I’ll scat hes chacks, the emprent, saucy dog. +</p> +<p class="line">Now hire me, Sandry Kemp, now down and full, +</p> +<p class="line">Ef thee arten hastes, the shust hire the whole. +</p> +<p class="line">Fust jue must naw, tes true as thee art theere, +</p> +<p class="line">Aant Blanch and I went to Golsinney feer. +</p> +<p class="line">Who overtookt us in the dusty road, +</p> +<p class="line">In common hum but Crull, the cloppen toad. +</p> +<p class="line">Zes he to Aant, “What cheer? Aant Blanch, what cheer? +</p> +<p class="line">Jue makes good coose, suppose jue ben to feer.” +</p> +<p class="line">“Why, hiss,” zes Aant, “ben there a pewer spur; +</p> +<p class="line">I wedn’t a gone ef nawed ed ben so fur. +<span class="pageNum" id="pb98">[<a href="#pb98">98</a>]</span></p> +<p class="line">I bawft a pair of shods for Sarah’s cheeld.” +</p> +<p class="line">By this time, lock! we cum jist to the field. +</p> +<p class="line">We went to clember up the temberen style, +</p> +<p class="line">(Haw keept his eye upon me all the while.) +</p> +<p class="line">Zes haw to Aant, “Then whos es thees braa maide? +</p> +<p class="line">Come tha wayst long, dasent be afraid.” +</p> +<p class="line">Then mov’d by my side, like a thing, +</p> +<p class="line">Aand pull’d my mantle, and jist touch’d my ching. +</p> +<p class="line">“How arry, jung woman?” zes haw. “How dost do?” +</p> +<p class="line">Zes I, “Jue saucy dog, what’s that to jue? +</p> +<p class="line">Keep off, jung lad, else thees have a slap.” +</p> +<p class="line">Then haw fooch’d some great big doat figs in me lap, +</p> +<p class="line">So I thoft, as haw had ben so kind, +</p> +<p class="line">Haw might go by Aant Blanch, ef haw had a mind. +</p> +<p class="line">Aand so haw ded, aand tookt Aant Blanch’s arm. +</p> +<p class="line">“Areah!” zes haw, “I dedn’t mane no harm.” +</p> +<p class="line">So then Aant Blanch and he ded talk and jest +</p> +<p class="line">Bout dabbing clay and bricks at Perran feast.</p> +</div> +<div class="sp"> +<p class="speaker"><i>Sandry.</i>—</p> +<p class="line">Ahah then, Mal, ’twas there they dabbed the clay?</p> +</div> +<div class="sp"> +<p class="speaker"><i>Mal.</i>—</p> +<p class="line">Plaase Faather, Kemp, tes true wot I do saay. +</p> +<p class="line">Aand hire me now, pla-sure, haw dedn’t budge +</p> +<p class="line">From Aanty’s arm tell jest this side Long Brudge. +</p> +<p class="line">Aand then zes he to Aant, “Shall we go in +</p> +<p class="line">To Aafe-way house, and have a dram of gin +</p> +<p class="line">Aand trickle mixt. Depend ol do es good, +</p> +<p class="line">Taake up the sweat and set to rights the blud.” +</p> +<p class="line">So Aant ded say, “Such things she dedn’t chuse,” +</p> +<p class="line">Aand squeeze my hand, aand loike a thing refuse. +</p> +<p class="line">So when we passed along by Wheal Bog moor, +</p> +<p class="line">Haw jumpt behind, and pok’t us in the door. +</p> +<p class="line">Haw caal’d for gin, aand brandy too, I think. +</p> +<p class="line">He clunk’d the brandy, we the gin ded drink. +</p> +<p class="line">So when haw wish’d good night as es the caase, +</p> +<p class="line">Haw kiss’t Aant Blanch, and jist neen touch’d my faace. +</p> +<p class="line">Now, Sandry Kemp, there’s nothing shure in this, +</p> +<p class="line">To my moinde, then, that thee shust taake amiss.</p> +</div> +<div class="sp"> +<p class="speaker"><i>Sandry.</i>—</p> +<p class="line">No fath, then Mal, ef this es all, aand true, +</p> +<p class="line">I had a done the same ef I was jue.</p> +</div> +<div class="sp"> +<p class="speaker"><i>Mal.</i>—</p> +<p class="line">Next time in any house I see or hear am, +</p> +<p class="line">I’ll down upon the plancheon, rat am, scat am, +</p> +<p class="line">Aand I will so poam am,—</p> +</div> +<div class="sp"> +<p class="speaker"><i>Sandry.</i>—</p> +<p class="line">Our Kappen’s there, just by thickey bush. +</p> +<p class="line xd33e2462">Hush! now Mally, hush! +</p> +<p class="line">Aand as hes here, so close upon the way +</p> +<p class="line">I wedent wish haw nawed what we ded zay, +</p> +<p class="line">Aand jett I dedent care, now fath and soul, +</p> +<p class="line">Ef so be our Kappen wor to hire the whole. +</p> +<p class="line">How arry Kappen? Where be going so fast? +</p> +<p class="line">Jure goin’ hum, suppose, juse in sich haste.</p> +</div> +<div class="sp"> +<p class="speaker"><i>Kappen<span class="corr" id="xd33e2475" title="Not in source">.</span></i>—</p> +<p class="line">Who’s that than? Sandry, arten thee ashamed +</p> +<p class="line">To coosy so again? Thee wust be blamed +</p> +<p class="line">Ef thees stay here all night to prate wi’ Mal! +</p> +<p class="line">When tes thy cour, thee wusten come to Bal. +</p> +<p class="line">Aand thee art a Cobbe, I tell thee so. +</p> +<p class="line">I’ll tell the owners ef thee dosent go.</p> +</div> +<p><span class="pageNum" id="pb99">[<a href="#pb99">99</a>]</span></p> +<div class="sp"> +<p class="speaker"><i>Sandry.</i>—</p> +<p class="line">Why, harkee, Kappen, don’t skoal poor I, +</p> +<p class="line">Touch pipe a crum, jue’ll naw the reason why. +</p> +<p class="line">Coozen Mal aand I ben courtain bout afe a year. +</p> +<p class="line">Hould up tha head, Mal; don’t be ashamed, dost hire? +</p> +<p class="line">Aand Crull one day made grief ’tween I and she; +</p> +<p class="line">But he shall smart for it now, I swear by G——. +</p> +<p class="line">Haw told me lies, as round as any cup. +</p> +<p class="line">Now Mal and I have mit, we’ve made it up; +</p> +<p class="line">So, Kappen, that’s the way I stopt, I vow.</p> +</div> +<div class="sp"> +<p class="speaker"><i>Kappen.</i>—</p> +<p class="line">Ahah! I dedent giss the caase jist now. +</p> +<p class="line">But what dost think of that last batch of ore?</p> +</div> +<div class="sp"> +<p class="speaker"><i>Sandry<span class="corr" id="xd33e2507" title="Not in source">.</span></i>—</p> +<p class="line">Why pewer and keenly gossen, Kappen sure; +</p> +<p class="line">I bleeve that day, ef Franky’s pair wornt drunk, +</p> +<p class="line">We shud had pewer stuff too from the sump. +</p> +<p class="line">But there, tes all good time, as people saay, +</p> +<p class="line">The flooken now, aint throw’d us far away; +</p> +<p class="line">So hope to have bra tummalls soon to grass. +</p> +<p class="line">How ded laast batch down to Jandower pass?</p> +</div> +<div class="sp"> +<p class="speaker"><i>Kappen.</i>—</p> +<p class="line">Why, hang thy body, Sandry, speed, I saay, +</p> +<p class="line">Thees keep thy clacker going till tes day. +</p> +<p class="line">Go speak to Mally now, jue foolish toad, +</p> +<p class="line">I wish both well, I’ll keep my road.</p> +</div> +<div class="sp"> +<p class="speaker"><i>Sandry.</i>—</p> +<p class="line">Good nightie, Kappen, then I wishee well. +</p> +<p class="line">Where artee, Mally? Dusten haw hire me, Mal? +</p> +<p class="line">Dusent go away, why jue must think of this, +</p> +<p class="line">Before we part, shure we must have a kiss. +</p> +<div class="lg"> +<p class="line xd33e1043"><i>She wiped her muzzle from the mundic stuff,</i> +</p> +<p class="line xd33e1043"><i>And he rubb’d his, a little stain’d with snuff.</i> +</p> +</div> +<p class="line">Now then, there, good night Mal, there’s good night; +</p> +<p class="line">But, stop a crum.</p> +</div> +<div class="sp"> +<p class="speaker"><i>Mally.</i>—</p> +<p class="line">Good night.</p> +</div> +<div class="sp"> +<p class="speaker"><i>Kappen.</i>—</p> +<p class="line">Good night.</p> +</div> +<hr class="tb"> +<ul> +<li><i>Kendle teenan</i>, candle lighting. +</li> +<li><i>Squarded hat</i>, broken or cracked hat. +</li> +<li><i>Lem ma knaw</i>, let me know, tell me. +</li> +<li><i>Wheal Bog</i>, wheal, or, correctly spelt, huel, is old Cornish, and signifies a mine or work. +</li> +<li><i>Doat figs</i>, broad figs. +</li> +<li><i>A Cobbe</i>, a simpleton, a bungler. +</li> +<li><i>Bra tummalls</i>, brave heaps, large piles of ore.</li> +</ul> +<hr class="tb"> +</div> +<div class="divBody"> +<p>The guest, for whose entertainment the old men had furbished up their memories, said, +“that piece is a capital one, and it seems all the better from the way in which you +have told it. Your dialect is pleasant to hear; it is softer and more musical than +that of most other parts of England. +</p> +<p>“Many Cornish drolls remind me of Irish stories, which show similar traits of character. +I have seen a piece by Tregellas, a St. Ann’s man, I suppose, as he says much about +people in that parish and its neighbourhood. +<span class="pageNum" id="pb100">[<a href="#pb100">100</a>]</span></p> +<p>“There is one story of his which shows how prone Cornish people are to stretch a point +or two, as you call it. I mean that story of a boy telling his mother there are scores +and hundreds of cats caterwauling upon the roof; his mother reproves him for making +such an unreasonable stretch, and sends him out to see how many are there; he returned, +and, condescending to tell the truth at last, says that he could ‘only see grammar’s +cat and ours.’ +</p> +<p>“An Irish story, called ‘The Three Geese,’ shows the habit of augmenting the number +of things, and of obstinacy in sticking to the words said. +</p> +<p>“I’ll tell the Irish story, if you’d like to hear it, as it’s told by my old friend +Patrick Kennedy.” +</p> +<p>“We should all be delighted to hear et, I’m sure,” said the host. +</p> +<p>“Then let us have a good large jug of toddy—half-a-gallon or so—that all the company +may drink together of the same, and make the story seem less dry,” said the Irish +gentleman. +</p> +<p>A jorum of hot grog having been brought and served, all the company wished the guest +health, happiness, and a long life; and “may your shadow never grow less,” added our +host. +</p> +<p>Then the following Irish story was told in native style. +</p> +</div> +</div> +<div id="ch21" class="div1 chapter"><span class="pageNum">[<a title="Go to the table of contents" href="#xd33e295">Contents</a>]</span><div class="divHead"> +<h2 class="main">THE THREE GEESE.</h2> +</div> +<div class="divBody"> +<p class="first">Oh, dear! O, dear! what headstrong crathers the womankind is! The more you want them +to do any thing that’s right, the surer they are not to do it, unless the advice is +given to a young girl by a gay deludher of a young man something above her station, +or to a mistress of a family by some tay-dhrinking, gossiping, cabin-hunting, idle +sthra that does nothing but go about pretending to knit a stocking, and she does knit +it at the rate of four rounds in the day. It reminds me of the tailor and his wife +that were not satisfied without bringing trouble into their cabin, when it pleased +Providence not to be sending any. The poor man was sitting contentedly on his board +stitching away (I’m sure I wish I knew how a tailor manages to keep his thraneens +of legs the way he does for so long), and his wife that was cabin-hunting may be, +bawled out, just as she was darkening the door, “Ah, you idle sthronshuch! there you +are sitting at your <span class="pageNum" id="pb101">[<a href="#pb101">101</a>]</span>aise, and a hundred geese trampling down our little oats; get up, you lazy drone, +and drive them away.” “Musha, I think,” says he, “you’re more at leisure yourself; +but rather than have a scolding match, here we go.” So getting up, he went out, and +when he looked to the field, “Arrah, woman,” says he, “what’s on your eyes at all? +I see but two geese.” “Two geese, inagh! purshuin’ to the goose less than fifty there, +any way.” “Fifty? I wish I was as sure of fifty guineas as that there is only two +in it.” “Ah! goodness help poor creatures of women with their tyrants of husbands! +I tell you up to your teeth, there is forty geese there destroying the oats, as sure +as there is one.” “Well, well, two, or forty, or a hundred, I had better drive them +off.” +</p> +<p>When dinner came she poured out the potatoes, and laid his noggin of milk and plate +of butter out for him; but went and sat in the corner herself, and threw her apron +over her head, and began to sob. “Arrah, Judy acushla,” says he, “what’s this for? +come over and take your dinner, and let us be thankful, instead of flying in God’s +face.” “N-n-n-no indeed, I w-w-w-will not. To say such a thing as that there was only +two ge-ge-ge-geese there when I reckoned a whole score!” “Oh! to Halifax with them +for geese: let them go and be shot, woman, and come over to the table.” “Indeed and +I will not till you own to the truth.” Well not a bit did she eat; and when night +came, she make a shake down for herself, and would not gratify the poor tailor by +sleeping in her own good high-standing bed. Next morning she did not rise; but when +her husband spoke kindly, and brought some breakfast to the bedside, she asked him +to go for her mother and relations till she’d take leave of them before she’d die, +as there was no use living any more, when all love was gone from him. “But, Judy dear, +why do you go on in this way? what have I done?” “Don’t you say there was only two +geese there, and at the very lowest there could not be less than a dozen. Can’t you +acknowledge the truth, you obstinate pig of a man, and let us be at peace again?” +</p> +<p>Instead of making any answer, he walked over to her mother’s house, and brought her +over, with two or three of her family; and they laid siege to the wife, but they might +as well be preachin’ to a stone wall; and she almost persuaded them that her husband +was to blame. “Now call him,” says she, “and I’ll insense you who is wrong. Darby, +on the nick of your soul, and if you don’t intend to send me to my grave, speak the +truth like a Christian, and don’t be heapin’ sins on your miserable head. I’ll leave +you no back door, for I’ll only insist on three geese, though I’m sure there was six +at the very least; wasn’t there three geese in the field when I called you out!” “Och, +Judy asthore? never mind: let there be three-and-thirty if you like, but don’t let +us be idlin’ and tormentin’ our people here. Get up in the name of goodness <span class="pageNum" id="pb102">[<a href="#pb102">102</a>]</span>and eat a bit.” “But wasn’t there three geese there, I say, Darby?” “Ah, dickens a +one but two if you go to that.” “Oh, Vuya, Vuya! isn’t this a purty story? Go home, +go home, all of yez, and bid Tommy Mulligan prepare my coffin, and bring it over about +sun-down, and just give me one night’s dacent waking:<a class="noteRef" id="xd33e2598src" href="#xd33e2598" title="Go to note 1.">1</a> I won’t ax the two, for I don’t wish to give so much trouble to the neighbours, and +indeed I think I couldn’t stand the ungratitude and conthrāriness of them that ought +to know better, and feel for a body; and after all that I done and slaved for him, +and gave up Neddy Brophy for him, that was six inches taller, and a carpenter besides.” +</p> +<p>Well, thinking it might give her a fright, they went and brought a coffin that was +ready made at the time, and some fresh shavings in the bottom; and the women of the +town, that gathered as soon as the coffin came, ordered out the men till they’d wash +the corpse. +</p> +<p>She said nothing till the men were outside; but then she gave tongue, and asked how +dare they think that she wanted washing! It might do well enough for a real dead body, +but she was thankful it <span class="corr" id="xd33e2612" title="Source: had’nt">hadn’t</span> come to that with her yet, and if she chose to die it was no concern of theirs; and +if any one attempted to lay a drop of water on her skin, she’d lay the marks of her +ten nails on their face. Well, she was got some way into the coffin, and a clean cap +and frill put round her face; and, as she was not pale enough, a little girl shook +some flour on her cheeks. Before the men and boys were let in, she asked for a looking +glass, and when she saw what a fright she looked with the flour, she got a towel and +rubbed every bit of it off again. +</p> +<p>She bid her husband be called in, and gave her sister and mother charge, in his hearing, +to be kind and attentive to the poor <i>angashore</i> after she was gone: at any rate till he’d get a new wife, which she supposed would +not be very far off; for though he was <span class="pageNum" id="pb103">[<a href="#pb103">103</a>]</span>unkind and conthrāry, thank goodness she knew her duty, and she supposed he could +not help his nature, and it was better as it was, before they’d grow old, and she +might get peevish and lose her temper, and they might become a gazabo to the neighbours +by fightin’ and scoldin<span class="corr" id="xd33e2621" title="Source: .’">’.</span> “I’ll engage now, after all is said and done, he <span class="corr" id="xd33e2624" title="Source: wo’nt">won’t</span> give way an inch, nor acknowledge the three geese.” Well, the moment the geese were +mentioned, he put on his hat without a word, and walked out. +</p> +<p>So evenin’ came, and the candles were lighted, and the tobacco and pipes were all +laid out, and the poor dead woman had to listen to a good deal of discourse not at +all to her liking; and the talk went on in this way. “Musha, neighbour, doesn’t the +corpse look mighty well? When did she die, poor woman? What ailed her, did you hear?” +“Indeed I believe it was <i>Gusopathy</i>, as Tom K. the schoolmaster called it just now; something with ‘goose’ in it any +way: you know the way the skin does be in a sudden cold, with little white risings +on it, they call it a goose’s skin. May be she had it very bad, and her husband could +not bear it, and so she died of grief.” “Poor man, he’ll feel her loss for a week +or two, she was a careful woman.” “Ah, but hadn’t she a bitter tongue of her own?” +“Troth I think Darby will bear her loss with Christian patience. He is a young man +for his years; he doesn’t look forty, he’ll be getting his choice of wives. I think +poor Judy was careful and laid by a few guineas; won’t the new wife feel comfortable, +and may be soon put wind under the money!” “To my notion, Judy was in too great a +hurry to die. From her looks there, she might bury two tailors yet, and may be get +a big bodagh of a farmer for her third husband. Well, it can’t be helped, but I would +not like to be warming a bed for the best woman in the townland if I was Judy. She +is at peace at last, poor woman; and mighty hard she found it to keep the peace with +her neighbours while she was alive. Who is that you said used to be walking with Darby +of odd Sunday evenings before his marriage? If ghosts are allowed to take the air +on Sunday evenings, poor Judy’s will have something to fret her in a few weeks.” +</p> +<p>Well, all this time, the poor dead woman’s blood was rushing like mad through her +veins; and something was swelling in her throat as if she was going to be choked, +but still the divel was so strong in her that she never opened her eyes nor her mouth. +The poor broken-hearted husband came up after some time, and leaning over her face +he whispered, “Judy, acushla, isn’t it time to be done with this foolery? Say but +one reasonable word, and I’ll send all these people about their business.” “Ah, you +little-good-for crather, you havn’t the spirit of a man, or you would never bear all +they have been saying of your poor neglected wife these two hours past. Are the three +geese there?” “Not a goose but <span class="pageNum" id="pb104">[<a href="#pb104">104</a>]</span>two if you were to be waked for a twelvemonth;” and off he went and sat in a dark +part of the room till daylight. +</p> +<p>He made another offer next morning, just as the <i>led</i> was puttin’ on the coffin, and the men were goin’ to hoise it on their shoulders; +but not a foot she’d move unless he’d give in to the three geese. +</p> +<p>So they came to the churchyard, and the coffin was let down in the grave, and just +as they were preparing to fill all up, poor Darby went down, and stooping to where +he had left some auger holes in the lid, he begged of her even after the holy show +she made of himself and herself, to give up the point, and come home. “Is the three +geese there?” was all he could get out of her, and this time his patience got so thread-bare, +and he was so bothered by want of sleep, and torment of mind, that he got beside himself, +and jumped up, and began to shovel the clay like mad, down on the coffin. +</p> +<p>The first rattle it made, however, had like to frighten the life out of the buried +woman, and she shouted out, “Oh, let me up! I’m not dead at all: let there be only +two geese, Darby asthore, if you like.” “Oh, be this and be that,” said Darby, “it +is too late: people have come far and near to the funeral, and we can’t let them lose +their day for nothing: so for the credit of the family, don’t stir,” and down went +the clay in showers, for the tailor had lost his senses. Of course the by-standers +would not let the poor woman be buried against her own will; so they seized on Darby +and his shovel, and when his short madness was checked, he fell in a <span class="corr" id="xd33e2643" title="Source: stump">slump</span> on the sod. When poor Judy was brought to life, the first sight she beheld was her +husband lyin’ without a kick in him, and a wag of a neighbour proposed to her to let +Darby be put down in her place, and not give so many people a disappointment after +coming far and near. The dead woman, by way of thanks, gave him a slap across the +face that he felt for two days; and not minding the figure she cut in her grave-clothes, +fell on poor Darby, and roared and bawled for him to come to life, and she’d never +say a conthrāry word to him again while she lived. So, some way or other they brought +the tailor round; but how <i>her</i> and him could bear to look each other in the face for a while, I don’t know. May +be as there was a good deal of love under all the crossness, they found a way to get +into their old habits again, and whenever she felt a tart answer coming to her tongue, +she thought of the rattling of the clay on the coffin, and of the three geese that +were only two after all; and if they didn’t live happy——but that’s the end they put +to lying fairy stories, and as this one is so true and moral, it can afford to do +without a tail. +</p> +<hr class="tb"><p> +</p> +<p>When the applause and remarks occasioned by this story had somewhat subsided, our +hostess spoke a few words in her husband’s <span class="pageNum" id="pb105">[<a href="#pb105">105</a>]</span>ear; she might have meant to whisper, but the guest asked what she said about trouble. +“That she and the rest,” replied our host, “wed beg and pray for <span class="corr" title="Source: e">’e</span> to tell them another story, but they were afraid to trouble <span class="corr" title="Source: e">’e</span>.” +</p> +<p>“It will give me much pleasure,” said the Irish gentleman, “to tell another, of quite +a different sort,” and he presently told the following story of a brave Irish boy’s +luck. +</p> +</div> +<div class="footnotes"> +<hr class="fnsep"> +<div class="footnote-body"> +<div class="fndiv" id="xd33e2598"> +<p class="footnote"><span class="fnlabel"><a class="noteRef" href="#xd33e2598src" title="Return to note 1 in text.">1</a></span> Patrick Kennedy’s description of an Irish wake, may remind elderly Cornish people +of a custom generally observed in West Cornwall, at least, in the last century; that +of holding watch-night, with the deceased, for one night, and keeping lighted candles +in the room in which the body was laid out, every night until the funeral. +</p> +<p class="footnote cont">All those friends of the family who intended to follow the body to its grave, as “mourners” +were expected to join the watchers. It was customary to have a supper for them (the +watchers) about midnight; and a few hours afterwards the watching was concluded. +</p> +<p class="footnote cont">It was never the custom here, within our remembrance to address the spirit, supposed +to be hovering near its body, until the latter was consigned to earth, as the Irish +do at this day. In their “croneing” the spirit is mostly spoken to in consoling or +flattering words; and often a little blarney is added also. Both in Ireland and here, +it was thought a great slight or an insult if friends, who had formal notice of a +decease, did not attend at the watch-night or wake. It is evident, however, that these +customs are remnants of the same ancient British usage, amongst those of the Celtic +race. +</p> +<p class="footnote cont">A pleasing picture of this ancient observance may be seen in Cymbeline,—<i>Act</i> iv. <i>Scene</i> 2. <a class="fnarrow" href="#xd33e2598src" title="Return to note 1 in text.">↑</a></p> +</div> +</div> +</div> +</div> +<div id="ch22" class="div1 chapter"><span class="pageNum">[<a title="Go to the table of contents" href="#xd33e302">Contents</a>]</span><div class="divHead"> +<h2 class="main">THE EARL OF STAIRS’ SON.</h2> +</div> +<div class="divBody"> +<p class="first">The father was called the Earl of Stairs, because his little house was just on the +side of Black Stairs, looking towards Puck’s Bridge. One eave rested on the side of +the rock, and the walls were good strong stone walls (there is no scarcity of stones +in them parts), and the roof was as snug as <i>scraws</i> and heath could make it. The Earl enclosed as much land off the common as he could +till; so there was no scarcity of oaten bread, or potatoes, or eggs, or goats’ milk; +and small thanks to him for keeping up a good fire, for the turf bog was within a +hen’s race of his castle. Both he and his wife were of old respectable families; and +so, as they had the good drop of blood, and some larning, and were mighty genteel +in their manners, they were called Lady Stairs and the Earl of Stairs. One day, an +ignorant omadhaun of a mountaineer came in on some business, and he sat down, and +kept looking at a bunch of keys that was hanging from a table-drawer, and says he, +after a long pause, “Ma’am,” says he, “do you sell kays here?” +</p> +<p>Well, when the little boy was about fifteen years old, and knew more nor any school-master +within ten miles of him, he was so eager after the learning, that he set out over +the mountain, and through Carlow, and Kilkenny, and whatever lies at the back of them, +till he came to Munster. He got into a capital school there, and learned all them +branches I mentioned while ago, ay, and grammar along with them; I forgot the grammar. +A Mr. Blundell teached in that school about twenty years ago, but I don’t know the +name of the young Earl’s master who lived long before that time. He paid nothing for +his knowledge, but helped the master now and then; and the farmers’ children going +to the school were <span class="pageNum" id="pb106">[<a href="#pb106">106</a>]</span>glad to take him home at night, as he was so ready to share his knowledge with them. +No wonder he should find it so easy to pick up learning in Munster, where they say +the little boys minding the cows converses with one another in Latin. +</p> +<p>At last and at long, he returned home, a fine genteel young man; and did not his poor +mother cry with joy, when she heard him talking to the priest the next Sunday, after +Mass, and conversing with him in Latin, and French, and Portugee. +</p> +<p>Well, there was nothing to hinder him now from being a priest himself, if he chose, +as the old people had some guineas laid up in the thatch in an old stocking; but though +he was pious enough in his own way, he said he had no vocation; and that any one becoming +a priest without a vocation, would be only endangering his own soul and the souls +of his flock. Every week he used to get an invitation to some great farmers’ house +for tay and hot cake, and wherever the priest had a station, he was sure to be there. +The girls had an eye on him, but though he was polite enough, he paid no particular +attention to any one; and then they began to find out that his parents were below +their own rank in life, and that his geese were all swans in his own eyes, and that +the concait of some people was astonishing. He used to ramble about the rocks with +a book in his hands; and though he was ready enough to help the Earl at his work, +the deuce a hand would the old fool let him lay to a single thing. +</p> +<p>At last as they were sitting round the fire on a winter’s night, the young fellow +up and told the old couple, that he was tired of doing nothing and having nothing +to do, and that he would set out on his travels, and that he hoped he would have something +pleasant to write home about before long. +</p> +<p>The poor old people were sad enough at this; but after doing all they could to persuade +him to stay at home, and marry, and take a farm, or open a shop in Newtownbarry (it +was only Bunclody then), or Enniscorthy, or New Ross, he still held out, and one fine +day he set forward to Dublin, and took ship there, and tale or tidings were not heard +from him for two years, except one letter that he sent them from Paris about five +months after he set sail; and in this letter he said he was well off teaching English +to a merchant’s children. +</p> +<p>A last one fine summer afternoon, a fine looking gentleman with a foreign appearance, +and speaking English in a queer style, and travelling in a post-chaise, stopped at +the inn at the cross of Rathduff, and put up there till next day; but said he wanted +a guide to show him the way to the Earl of Stairs’ castle. The people knew the nickname +well enough, and after he got some refreshment, a boy was sent to show him the way. +When they came nigh the cabin which was on the open common, and near the <span class="pageNum" id="pb107">[<a href="#pb107">107</a>]</span>ending of a lane that came up straight through the enclosed fields, they heard a great +grunting and squeeling, and there they saw two stout two-year old pigs with their +noses to the half-door, shrovellin’ at it with all their might, and only for the rings +in their snouts they’d have it down in less than no time; and the squeelin’ they kept +up all the time was enough to vex a saint. A puckawn<a class="noteRef" id="xd33e2679src" href="#xd33e2679" title="Go to note 1.">1</a> and eleven <i>meenshogues</i><a class="noteRef" id="xd33e2683src" href="#xd33e2683" title="Go to note 2.">2</a> were surnadin’ along the ridge of the roof, and cantherin’ round the bawn, and givin’ +a puck now and then to the musicianers at the door to quicken the tune a bit. Well, +the gorsoon got through the goats and gave a welt or two to the pigs, and got them +out of the way, and then he bawled out, “Earl of Stairs, are you within if you please, +sir? Here’s a gentleman from foreign parts come to see you.” So with that the Earl +came and opened the half-door, and requested the gentleman to walk in. There was as +fine a dish of white eyes on their little table as you could wish to see, and a couple +of noggins of boiled goats’ milk by the side of it, and a plate of butter, and the +moment the gentleman entered, they pressed him to sit down and join them; and Lady +Stairs filled out a mug of milk, and laid a knife and a pat of butter for the stranger. +</p> +<p>He thought to explain his business at once, but they would not hear a word till he +would first eat and drink. So he hung his hat on a peg, and taking the knife in his +hand, he cut one of the potatoes in two, and watched to see how the master and mistress +managed theirs. And he was so polite that he laid down his knife, and began to peel +off the potato skins with his fingers. Well, he did not relish that way of going to +work much, so he took up the knife again and dispatched a couple of potatoes, and +took a pull at the milk which I’m sure was good enough for a queen. Well, the table +was small, and the mistress thinking that the potatoes were not much to their visitor’s +taste, took down a wooden bowl, filled with good home-made cakes; and laying it on +her lap, as the little table was crowded, she buttered a good slice, and asked him +to try it if he pleased. He done his best to seem to relish every thing, and the Earl +holding a lighted dipped rush in one hand, pressed him to make a hearty supper. +</p> +<p>When the cloth was off the table, the Earl wiped his hands on a wisp of straw in the +corner: you will know by and by, why I mention this straw, and the other things. When +he was done with it he threw it into the blaze, and it was burnt. Now, don’t forget +the dish held on the lady’s lap, nor the rush in the Earl’s hand, nor the straw. +</p> +<p>At last says the Frenchman in broken English, as soon as they would let him speak, +“Madame, the mistress of the house, havn’t <span class="pageNum" id="pb108">[<a href="#pb108">108</a>]</span>you a son that left you about two years ago?” The poor woman got into such a tremble, +that some of the cakes fell out of the bowl, and the father opened his eyes and his +mouth, but couldn’t say a word. “Oh sir, dear,” says the mother, “have you seen our +poor boy!” “Yes,” says he, “I have seen him, and he is alive and well, and well to +do, and likely to be better.” “And when is he coming home, and why didn’t he write, +and how does he look, and why didn’t he come with you?” +</p> +<p>“As I can’t speak the English very easily, you may better let me tell my story in +my own way,” says the Frenchman, for a Frenchman he was: “I am the head man of business +to a merchant in Paris; and about a year and half ago, a young genteel looking Irishman +was engaged by my employer to teach his children English. There was something so mild +and engaging about the young fellow, that the children and the elder people got very +much attached to him, and the young lady their eldest daughter began to like him better +than the others. Your son, for so he was, never took any airs on himself, and the +young lady seeing that he paid no particular attention to her, began to mope and be +dismal, and at last took to her bed, and was sick in earnest. The mother, by some +means, found out what ailed her, and let her husband know; but he was very angry, +and indeed herself was not much better, but still the girl was ailing without making +any complaint. The young teacher made a great many mistakes in the lessons from the +first day he missed the young lady from her place; and some of the servants remarked +him several nights in the street at late hours, and looking up at the light of one +of the windows. At last, fearing that they would lose their daughter altogether, the +mother began to question the young Irishman about his family at home. He made no boast, +except that he was descended from good old Irish families on both sides; and that +the lands belonging to his forefathers were taken from them, because they would not +renounce their religion nor their king; and he mentioned that his own father and mother +were still called in jest, Earl and Lady Stairs. +</p> +<p>“Well they had no great occasion to ask him what he thought of their daughter, for +one of her young brothers happening to call one day at his lodging, and stepping in +on tiptoe, and peeping over his shoulder, he found him sobbing and kissing a little +picture which he had made of his sister, unknown to any body. +</p> +<p>“So the old gentleman at last gave his consent, on condition that a person he’d send +over to Ireland, to his father’s place, would be able to give a satisfactory account +of the state of things here. I think he expected that by getting time, and leaving +the lady to herself, she might change her mind; especially as there is no end to the +balls and entertainments going on, and as all the young <span class="pageNum" id="pb109">[<a href="#pb109">109</a>]</span>gentlemen of their acquaintance are invited to the house, night after night. Miss +Mary is a very lively, rattling young damsel, with dark sparkling eyes; and we all +wondered how she was so taken with your son, who is very quiet in his manner, and +used to say so little. My master hopes from the briskness of her character, that she +will get tired of his quietness; but I am sure he will be mistaken; and now a good +deal depends on the news I am to send home in a day or two.” +</p> +<p>“Oh dear,” says the poor mother, “what will you be able to say about such humble people +as we, to make your employer think well of the match?” +</p> +<p>“At all events,” says the stranger, “I can say of you, that before you knew anything +of my business, you shared the best you had with me, and what more could you do if +you were a real lady? Now if you have any way for me to sleep, I’ll let my guide go +back and bring up my dressing-case from the inn; and we will take to-morrow to go +to the top of this mountain here, and walk about, and settle how every thing is to +be; and next day I’ll write home.” +</p> +<p>Well, then, he pulled out a letter from their son; and, between laughing and crying, +they read, how at first he wrote after getting into business, and then when the trouble +came, he did not wish to send any letter till he would have something pleasant to +say. He put in everything to make them cheerful; and now and then something about +the young lady would slip out, and her mother’s kindness, and the love he had for +the little brothers, and what a charitable good young lady she was, etc. So when the +evening got late, Mounseer was put to rest in a snug little room where their son had +his bed long ago, and well he might sleep too, for there was a feather pallet, with +a nice dry mat under it; and the fresh air of the mountain got in through chinks and +crannies, and did not let the place feel too close; and the sheets were clean and +well aired, and the quilt had all the beautifulest flowers in the world cut out on +it in the neatest patterns. +</p> +<p>Lady Stairs going in and out took notice that he spent a good deal of time about his +razhurs and other dressing implements; but if he passed any time on his kness, it +was a mighty short one entirety. Next morning they contrived to give the Frenchman +a decent breakfast of tay, and white bread, and butter, though them things didn’t +often get so high up in the mountains; and they say that the French don’t use tay +at breakfast; and after that he walked in his thin boots along with the Earl, to the +very top of Blackstairs. I’m sure they had a delightful view from it, over the castles +and demesnes of Mr. Colclough, Mr. Blacker, Mr. Carew, and all their plantations, +and the woods of Kilaughrim, and Tombrick, and the Slaney flowing along, and the towns +of Enniscorthy <span class="pageNum" id="pb110">[<a href="#pb110">110</a>]</span>and New Ross looking so small, and all the snug farmers’ houses down in the county +Carlow, with the green paddocks around them, and the bogs here and there, and the +dry stone fences to the fields, and the town of Carlow, and the fine broad Barrow +flowing off towards Graigue and New Ross. If they turned around to the sunrise, they +could enjoy the view of Mount Leinster, and the Wicklow hills, and Ferns, and Corrig +Rua, and the far-off sea beyond all. +</p> +<p>Well, that evening he pulled out his letter paper, and his pen, and ink-horn; and +began a letter to the merchant in Paris, and this is the way a part of it was wrote. +</p> +<blockquote> +<p class="first">“Most respected sir, +</p> +<p>“I write these few lines to you, hoping they shall find you in health as it leaves +me at present, thanks, etc., etc., and the mistress, and Miss Mary, and the young +Irish gentleman, and the other children. This country is very different from France; +land is so cheap and plenty that they cut away a great deal of every field to make +a big dyke, and they build up a great big ditch with the clay and stones they take +out. The people are cheerful, and hospitable, and obliging; but they are too fond +of staying in their chapels, and saying long prayers. Our young gentleman was rather +modest in speaking of his father’s rank and possessions. I can hardly make a guess +at the extent of the demesne that spreads round his mansion for miles and miles, without +hedge or ditch, and the sheep and cattle that graze on it are beyond counting. When +I drew nigh to the castle, up an avenue half a mile long, it was in the evening, and +the Earl and his Lady were at their supper. There were two musicianers stationed before +the hall-door, and they played during the whole time, such music as you never heard +in your life at any entertainment, no nor the King of France himself. Twelve halberd-men +were drawn up in front by way of royal guard; so venerable as they looked, and such +beards as they had! and while they were on duty they would not return a salute, nor +answer a question to the King nor the Lord Lieutenant himself. Though the Earl and +his Lady were at their supper in state, they showed me the greatest respect, when +they heard from where I came. Will I ever forget the splendour of that supper! The +<i>side table</i> could not be valued by the owner at less than fifty thousand pounds; and I am sure +that the Earl would not part with the chief <i>candlestick</i> that gave light to the feast for ten thousand any way. +</p> +<p>“After supper, the nobleman dried his hands on a towel with gold fringes, at least +they looked very like gold; and so little regard had he for it that when he was done +he thrune it into the fire. Moreover, he need not go out of his own <span class="corr" id="xd33e2718" title="Source: desmesne">demesne</span> for firing for a hundred years to come; and by the end of that time, <span class="pageNum" id="pb111">[<a href="#pb111">111</a>]</span>I’m sure you would hardly miss the trees that would be cut down. Such is the wonderful +splendour of every thing here that I can hardly believe my own account of it; and +I’m sure the young Earl when he came to Paris, and ever since, pretended to be poor, +that he might find some good young lady who would marry him for his own sake, and +not for his rank nor his riches. +</p> +<p>“I will take a look at Dublin, and the Wicklow and the Welsh mountains on my return; +and I hope to see my young mistress with the ring on her hand when I get home. +</p> +<p class="signed">“I am, etc., etc.”</p> +</blockquote><p> +</p> +<p>Well, the clever Frenchman was asked to the priest’s house to take tea that evening, +and two or three of the gentlemen-farmers met him there. He was very glad to get in +company with the priest, as he spoke French well, having studied at a place abroad +called Louvain, and he told him the sort of letter he was sending home. The clergyman +wondered at it, you may be sure, but he said that the young lady would be thankful +for the invention; and that her mother was won over already; and that the father only +wished to make the thing look well in the eyes of their acquaintance; and so the letter +would satisfy everybody; and from all he could hear of the young man from his old +neighbours, his young mistress would never meet a better husband; for he had good +manners and a good appearance, and was a good scholar, and what few young Paris gentlemen +were, he was a good Christian into the bargain. +</p> +<p>Well to make my long story short, the Earl of Stairs soon made an addition of two +rooms to his castle, a parlour and a bed-room, and the next year, there was joy and +merriment in his house, for his son and his beautiful black-eyed bride came home; +and they brought only a boy and a girl to wait on them; and the servants were harder +to please than their master and mistress; and the merry young lady ran about among +the heath and rocks, and her serious young husband and she were as fond as fond could +be of one another; and she laughed till the tears ran down her cheeks at the notion +of the halberd-men, and the musicianers, and the demesne, and the side table, and +the candlestick, and the towel with the gold fringes; and she was as serious and devout +at the little chapel as the poorest person there. They came to spend a part of every +summer at Blackstairs during the life of the old people; and if they didn’t live happy, +<span class="sc">THAT WE MAY</span>!” +</p> +<hr class="tb"><p> +</p> +<p>“These stories,” continued the guest, “are pretty fair examples of such as are still +related at Irish hearths.” +</p> +<p>“We once had stories told here,” said the host, “which were full of action and adventures, +but they are forgotten now. Instead of such old tales, we have now mere quibbles on +words, or modern <span class="pageNum" id="pb112">[<a href="#pb112">112</a>]</span>anecdotes, with but little in them worth remembering. As Henny Quick said, years ago,— +</p> +<div class="lgouter"> +<p class="line">“Our Cornish drolls are dead, each one. +</p> +<p class="line">The fairies from their haunts have gone; +</p> +<p class="line">There’s scarce a witch in all the land, +</p> +<p class="line">The world has grown so learn’d and grand.”</p> +</div> +<p class="first">“Henny wrote many short pieces,” continued our host, “had them printed, and he sold +them, with his mother’s help; yet what Henny called his copies of verses were on very +doleful subjects when there was any new matter in them. +</p> +<p>“There was also a rhymster in Sancras, called Billy Foss, who would talk for ever +so long in doggerel verse, but the greater part of it was very abusive; this es what +he said of Boslow:— +</p> +<div class="lgouter"> +<div class="lg"> +<p class="line">“As I traversed Boslow +</p> +<p class="line">I saw an old cow, +</p> +<p class="line">A hog, and a flock of starved sheep; +</p> +<p class="line">Likewise an old mare, +</p> +<p class="line">Whose bones were so bare +</p> +<p class="line">They made her old master to weep: +</p> +</div> +<div class="lg"> +<p class="line">A few acres of ground +</p> +<p class="line">As bare as a pound, +</p> +<p class="line">An old house just ready to fall; +</p> +<p class="line">Beside, there was no meat +</p> +<p class="line">For the people to eat, +</p> +<p class="line">And that was the worst thing of all: +</p> +</div> +<div class="lg"> +<p class="line">No grass for the flocks, +</p> +<p class="line">But a carn of dry rocks, +</p> +<p class="line">Which afforded a horrible sight; +</p> +<p class="line">If you chance go that way, +</p> +<p class="line">You must do so by day, +</p> +<p class="line">For you’d smash out your brains in the night. +</p> +</div> +<div class="lg"> +<p class="line">No crock, pan, nor kettle; +</p> +<p class="line">No goods, much nor little, +</p> +<p class="line">Was there to be found in the house; +</p> +<p class="line">No tables nor chairs, +</p> +<p class="line">No bedding upstairs— +</p> +<p class="line">Not so much as to cover a mouse.”</p> +</div> +</div> +<p class="first">“There are rhymes enough in that,” said the guest, “and whether there’s any reason +you may best know.” +</p> +<p>About this time the Cap’n of the tin-stamps and other old men rose and came to wish +us good night, saying, “we must love <span class="corr" title="Source: e">’e</span> and leave <span class="corr" title="Source: e">’e</span> my dears, for we haave to get to work early; the time es gone quickly, es past our +landlord’s hour for closean; ef you are goan away to-morrow we wish <span class="corr" title="Source: e">’e</span> well, and hope you may come to ‘Sennor’ agen soon.” +</p> +<p>We were glad to get sleep too, having had a long ramble in the morning, and expecting +a tiresome walk back to Penzance before the next night. +<span class="pageNum" id="pb113">[<a href="#pb113">113</a>]</span></p> +<p>In Zennor church we noticed, on a bench-end, the curious carving of a mermaid, which +has probably given rise to a legend<a class="noteRef" id="xd33e2794src" href="#xd33e2794" title="Go to note 3.">3</a> well known in the neighbourhood. +</p> +<p>The following epitaph on a mural tablet, in the same church, is also somewhat remarkable:— +</p> +<p class="center"><span class="sc">Here rest the Mortal part of +<br>John Quick, of Wicka, Yeoman. +<br>He was hospitable, sociable, peaceable, humble, +<br>honest, and devout in manner.</span> +<br>HE EXCELLED HIS EQUALS. +<br><span class="sc">In piety he was their example. +<br>He met death with composure. +<br>Sept. 12th, 1784, aged 74.</span> +</p> +<p class="center">“<i>The Memory of the Just is Blessed.</i>” +</p> +<p></p> +<div class="figure p113width"><img src="images/p113.png" alt="Mermaid with harp." width="178" height="205"></div><p> +<span class="pageNum" id="pb114">[<a href="#pb114">114</a>]</span></p> +</div> +<div class="footnotes"> +<hr class="fnsep"> +<div class="footnote-body"> +<div class="fndiv" id="xd33e2679"> +<p class="footnote"><span class="fnlabel"><a class="noteRef" href="#xd33e2679src" title="Return to note 1 in text.">1</a></span> He-Goat. <a class="fnarrow" href="#xd33e2679src" title="Return to note 1 in text.">↑</a></p> +</div> +<div class="fndiv" id="xd33e2683"> +<p class="footnote"><span class="fnlabel"><a class="noteRef" href="#xd33e2683src" title="Return to note 2 in text.">2</a></span> She-Goat. <a class="fnarrow" href="#xd33e2683src" title="Return to note 2 in text.">↑</a></p> +</div> +<div class="fndiv" id="xd33e2794"> +<p class="footnote"><span class="fnlabel"><a class="noteRef" href="#xd33e2794src" title="Return to note 3 in text.">3</a></span> See page <a href="#pb70">70</a>. <a class="fnarrow" href="#xd33e2794src" title="Return to note 3 in text.">↑</a></p> +</div> +</div> +</div> +</div> +<div id="ch23" class="div1 chapter"><span class="pageNum">[<a title="Go to the table of contents" href="#xd33e308">Contents</a>]</span><div class="divHead"> +<h2 class="main">FROM PENZANCE TO CARN GALVA:<br> +NOTEWORTHY OBJECTS BY THE WAY.</h2> +<div class="lgouter"> +<p class="line">The past is slipping from our hold, as shadowy as dreams,</p> +<p class="line">The dim, mysterious, lifeless past,—how faint, unreal it seems.</p> +<p class="line">But here and there we come across some waif upon the shore,</p> +<p class="line">Thrown landward by the waves of time, for man to ponder o’er.—J. B.</p> +</div> +</div> +<div class="divBody"> +<p class="first">Having the day before us, we take our course to Madron, and only pause when near the +village to turn round and admire the splendid landscape. +</p> +<div id="ch24" class="div2 section"><span class="pageNum">[<a title="Go to the table of contents" href="#xd33e314">Contents</a>]</span><div class="divHead"> +<h3 class="main"><span class="sc">Madron.</span></h3> +</div> +<div class="divBody"> +<p class="first">Madron Church is interesting to the archæologist: the east end is said to be that +of the original early English Church of about 1260. Among the objects worthy of notice +in the interior, are the font, sedile, and piscina, and also several mural monuments. +</p> +<p>On one old tomb may be seen the following matter-of-fact inscription:— +</p> +<div class="lgouter"> +<p class="line">“Belgium me birth, Braitaine me breeding gave, +</p> +<p class="line">Cornwalle a wife, ten children, and a grave.”</p> +</div> +<p class="first">Observe also the inscription on the brass of John Clies, in which the place now called +Penzance is spelt Penzour; and the north-west end window, recently presented to this +Church by the Rev. M. N. Peters, the Vicar. There are many quaint inscriptions on +the old tombs, besides that to George Daniel. +</p> +<p>At Landithy farm house, near at hand, note the ancient doorway, which formed a portal +to the preceptory of the Knights’ Templars; a considerable portion of the college +of these warrior monks, with some of the rooms adorned with curious portraits, supposed +to be those of the early kings and queens of England, was standing until a few years +ago, when the interesting old building was taken down and a farm-house erected on +its site. +</p> +<p>From the old portal of Landithy college, we pass up the road north of the Church; +at the corner of the Union garden, take the path across the fields; at the bottom +of the lane leading out of the third field, turn down through the moors on the right, +and a path <span class="pageNum" id="pb115">[<a href="#pb115">115</a>]</span>over soft grass and camomile brings us to a stile, which takes us into the moor where +are St. Madron’s Well and Chapel. +</p> +</div> +</div> +<div id="ch25" class="div2 section"><span class="pageNum">[<a title="Go to the table of contents" href="#xd33e320">Contents</a>]</span><div class="divHead"> +<h3 class="main"><span class="sc">Madron Well.</span></h3> +</div> +<div class="divBody"> +<p class="first">To find the Holy Well, on entering the lower enclosure, pass down across the moor +at a right angle to the hedge, and a minute’s walk will bring us to the noted spring, +which is not seen until very near, as it has no wall above the surface, nor any mark +by which it can be distinguished at a distance. Much has been written of the remarkable +cures effected by these holy waters, and the intercession of good St. Madron. This +was when Madron Well was so famous that the maimed, halt, and lame made pilgrimages +from distant parts of the country to the heathy moor. +</p> +<p>The water is still resorted to on the first three Wednesdays in May by some few women +of the neighbourhood, who bring children to be cured of skin diseases by being bathed +in the Well water. And its old repute as a divining fount has not yet quite died out, +though young folks come here now to drop pins or pebbles into the spring, more for +fun and the pleasure of each other’s company, than through any belief that the falling +together, or <span class="corr" id="xd33e2865" title="Source: seperation">separation</span> of pins or pebbles, will tell how the course of love will run between the parties +indicated by the objects dropped into the spring; or that the number of bubbles which +rise in the water, on stamping near the well, mark the number of years, in answer +to any question of time; but there was not such want of faith in the virtues of this +water half a century ago. +</p> +<p>A few weeks before the Excursion, we took a ramble through Boswarva, <span class="corr" id="xd33e2870" title="Source: Bossullow">Bosullow</span>, and some other ancient hamlets on the higher side of Madron, to see if we could +glean anything from the old inhabitants about the rites formerly practised at the +Crick-stone, Madron Well, and elsewhere. +</p> +<p>An elderly dame, who had lived the best part of her time near Lanyon, gave us the +following account of the doings at the Well about fifty years ago. “At that time, +when she lived in Lenine, scores of women from Morvah, Zennor, Towednack, and other +places, brought their children to Madron Well to be cured of the shingles, wildfires, +tetters, and various skin diseases, as well as to fortify them against witchcraft +and other mysterious ailments. +</p> +<p>“An old dame, called An (aunt) Katty, who then mostly lived about in the <span class="corr" id="xd33e2876" title="Source: Bossullows">Bosullows</span>, or some place near, and who did little but knitting-work, picked up a good living +in the spring of the year, by attending at the Well, to direct the high country folks +how they were to proceed in using the waters. +</p> +<p>“First she had the child stripped as naked as it was born; then the creature was plunged +or popped three times through the water against the sun; next, the child was passed +quickly nine times <span class="pageNum" id="pb116">[<a href="#pb116">116</a>]</span>round the spring, going from east to west, or with the sun; then the babe was dressed, +rolled up in something warm, and laid to sleep near the water; if the child slept +and plenty of bubbles rose in the water, it was a good sign.” +</p> +<p>We enquired if a prayer, charm, or anything was spoken during the operations? “Why, +no, to be sure,” the dame replied, “there mustn’t be a word spoken all the time they +are near the water, or it will spoil the spell; and a piece rented off from some part +of the clothes worn by the child or any other person using the Well, must be left +near the water for good luck, ever so small a bit will do; this is mostly placed out +of sight, alongside of the stream, which runs from the Well. +</p> +<p>“Whilst one party went through the rites at the spring, all the others remained over +the stile, in the higher enclosure, or by the hedge, till they came up from the water, +because if a word were spoken by anyone near the well, during the dipping, they had +to come again. The old woman, An Katty, was never paid in money, but balls of yarn, +or anything else she wanted, were dropped on the road, outside the Well-moors, for +her. This old dame also got good pickings by instructing the young girls how to try +for sweethearts at the Well. +</p> +<p>“Scores of maidens” (the dame’s words) “used, in the summer evenings, to come down +to the Well, from ever so far, to drop into it pins, gravel, or any small thing that +would sink. The names of the persons were not spoken when the objects, which represented +them, were dropped into the water; they were only thought of, and as they remained +together or <span class="corr" id="xd33e2887" title="Source: seperated">separated</span>, such would be the fate of the couple. It was only when the spring was working (rising +strongly) that it was of any use to try the spells; it was always unlucky to speak +when near the Well at such times.” +</p> +<p>Such is the substance of what the dame told us. She never heard that any saint had +anything to do with the water, except from somebody who told her there was something +in a book about it; nor had she or anybody else heard the water called St. Madron’s +Well, except by the new gentry, who go about giving new names to the places, and think +they know more about them than the people who have lived here ever since the world +was created. +</p> +<p>We enquired if the people ever went to the old chapel to perform any ceremony? Not +that she ever heard of; Morvah folks, and others of the Northern parishes who mostly +resort to the spring pay no regard to any saint or to any body else, except some old +woman who may come down with them to show how everything used to be done. We were +also informed that there is a spring in some moor in Zennor, not far from Bosporthenes, +which is said to be as good as Madron Well, and that children are often taken thither +and treated in the same way. +<span class="pageNum" id="pb117">[<a href="#pb117">117</a>]</span></p> +<p>The silent proceedings were altogether new to us, because we had often gone to other +Wishing Wells with parties of young folks who always kept noise and fun enough; yet +the old dame regarded the proceedings as a very solemn matter. +</p> +<p>In answer to the questions of “What was the reason for going round the Well nine times? +leaving the bits of rags? following the sun?” &c.; it was always the same reply, “Such +were the old customs, and everybody knew it was unlucky to go, or to do anything, +against the course of the sun; no woman, who knew anything, would place pans of milk +in the dairy, so as to have to unream them against the sun.” +</p> +</div> +</div> +<div id="ch26" class="div2 section"><span class="pageNum">[<a title="Go to the table of contents" href="#xd33e326">Contents</a>]</span><div class="divHead"> +<h3 class="main"><span class="sc">Madron Chapel.</span></h3> +</div> +<div class="divBody"> +<p class="first">By following down the brooklet from the Well, in a minute’s space we came to the Chapel. +In the southern wall may be noticed an opening for letting the water from the Well-brook +flow into a baptistry in the South-western corner of the Chapel. Entering by a door-way, +on the northern side of the Chapel, we see that this simple font appears to have been +arched over, after the manner of the bee-hive huts, by one row of stones projecting +over the other. The table-slab of the altar (which still remains at the east end) +has a square pit, worked in the centre to mark the place on which an image, or the +monstrance, was probably placed. There is a step to mark the division between the +little nave and the sacrarium, and remains of the stone seats which were carried all +round against the walls. A rare and beautiful little plant, the Cornish Money-wort, +may be found among stones beside the Well-brook. +</p> +</div> +</div> +<div id="ch27" class="div2 section"><span class="pageNum">[<a title="Go to the table of contents" href="#xd33e333">Contents</a>]</span><div class="divHead"> +<h3 class="main"><span class="sc">Lanyon Quoit.</span></h3> +</div> +<div class="divBody"> +<p class="first">We return to the highway, and continuing on the Morvah road, pass a broken cross, +which once served to direct the pilgrim to the Holy Well and shrine, or to the Templar’s +roof. A little farther on, a church-way path through fields makes a short cut across +the hill; from the road at the foot of this hill, on the Lanyon side, one gets the +most striking, though not the first view of the Quoit. From this low ground, the mass +of rock (more than eighteen feet long and nine abroad) is seen looming against the +sky like a gigantic tripod. When near it, we find that its height from the ground +is only from five to six feet; yet Dr. Borlase says, that in his time it was high +enough for a man to sit under it on horseback. +</p> +<p>In 1816, the cap-stone of the cromlech was thrown down by a violent storm, and a large +piece of one supporting stone broken off. In 1824, after the Logan Rock was replaced, +the powerful machinery brought into the country for that purpose, was used for raising +the Quoit; and, preparatory to replacing it, the other two uprights <span class="pageNum" id="pb118">[<a href="#pb118">118</a>]</span>were sunk several feet. One may speculate on the means first employed to raise the +ponderous mass, which has been beaten by the storms of more than twice ten hundred +years. Few can view “this lonely monument of times that were” without joining in the +prayer of the following beautiful lines:— +</p> +<div class="lgouter"> +<p class="line">* * * “Let no rude hand remove, +</p> +<p class="line">Or spoil thee; for the spot is consecrate +</p> +<p class="line">To thee, and thou to it; and as the heart +</p> +<p class="line">Aching with thoughts of human littleness +</p> +<p class="line">Asks, without hope of knowing, whose the strength +</p> +<p class="line">That poised thee here.”</p> +</div> +<p class="first">It does not seem likely to be soon decided whether these weird-looking monuments on +our silent hills were giants’ altars, kist veans, or the tombs of giants who have +left the marks of their footsteps on all our granite cairns and hills. Our mythic +giants may not be altogether fabulous, and it seems beyond dispute that gigantic remains +have been found under cromlechs when first denuded of the barrows with which many, +perhaps all, were formerly covered. +</p> +<p>Another idea, in connection with them, may be suggested by what we have farther to +state. A Cornish gentleman,<a class="noteRef" id="xd33e2921src" href="#xd33e2921" title="Go to note 1.">1</a> who resided many years in various parts of India, and to whom we are grateful for +much exact and curious information on various antiquarian subjects, informs us that +he has, in many remote parts of India (where the most ancient and simple forms of +Hindooism prevail), seen huge monuments of unhewn stone so like some of our cromlechs +in their construction, that they always reminded him of our giants’ quoits, and his +distant home on the Cornish hills. He says that in the granite districts, they were +precisely <span class="corr" id="xd33e2924" title="Source: simular">similar</span> in plan to our cromlechs; and in the slate districts the slabs were thinner and the +construction more regular. +</p> +<p>In all, an opening was left on one side. Between the supporting stones and within +the recesses of these rude structures sacred lamps were always kept burning. The priesthood, +who attended these sacred fires, were so much opposed to Christians coming near their +sacred places, that the gentleman referred to had no means of ascertaining whether +these Hindoo cromlechs were regarded as altars, tombs, or shrines. They might have +been all three combined, as it has been usual, in all times, for the sacredotal hierarchy +of all gloomy creeds to make the most of the bones of the dead to impress the minds +of the living with awe for the unearthly mystery with which they ever aim to invest +priestly functions. At last, by the gloomy creeds and rites of these mysterious religions, +they make a personification of death their deity. +</p> +<p>We must leave it for our learned antiquaries to decide whether <span class="pageNum" id="pb119">[<a href="#pb119">119</a>]</span>this huge Quoit was a giant’s tomb, or anything else which was ever applied to any +mortal use, except to make us feel that the ancient Cornish who could raise such ponderous +masses, high enough for a man to sit under on horseback, were no despicable race. +</p> +</div> +</div> +<div id="ch28" class="div2 section"><span class="pageNum">[<a title="Go to the table of contents" href="#xd33e339">Contents</a>]</span><div class="divHead"> +<h3 class="main"><span class="sc">Lanyon Town Place and House.</span></h3> +</div> +<div class="divBody"> +<p class="first">As we proceed on the Morvah road toward Lanyon, the rugged top of Carn Galva is seen +rising over the northern hills. The first sight of this huge carn, piled up against +the sky, suggests the thought that the good old giant who lived there in ancient times +could not have selected a better place for his stronghold. We now approach the town-place +of Lanyon, Lanion, or rather Lanine, for every one here calls the place by the latter +name, as well as the family, who probably took their name from this, their ancient +home. If you enquire of any person hereabouts for Lanyon, they will wonder where you +came from, and it is not at all easy for a stranger to get any information out of +our good folk by abrupt questioning, which they detest. The best way is to tell them +frankly what you want. Then, they will do their utmost to gratify your wishes. So +now we are here, we shall always speak of the place as Lanine, and tell a yarn to +get two in return. +</p> +<p>Many fanciful meanings have been given for the name of Lanyon or Lenine; yet there +appears to be little doubt that the name is a contraction of Lanython, which is composed +of <span class="sc">Lan</span>, an enclosure, and <span class="sc">Ython</span>, or <span class="sc">Eithin</span>, furze (the adjective comes after the noun in Cornish); or the name may be simply +the plural form of Lan. This word Lan (often contracted into la) enters into the construction +of many names of ancient places, as Landithy, Lamoran, Lamorna, &c. In Wales and Brittany, +names are equally common, which are formed of Llan or lan, followed by some qualifying +word; and as some of the oldest settlements or enclosures were the first places in +which Churches were erected, the word Lan came to be regarded as designating the Church. +In Lamorna and other similar words the n is dropped, from a natural disposition to +avoid the exertion which the pronunciation of certain combinations of consonants entails +on the speaker. The strongly-built dwelling-house of Lenine shows that Madron masons +of the last century were good craftsmen. Note the sturdy strength of the broad chimney-stacks, +which seem determined to put a hard face on all the fierce blasts they encounter in +this unsheltered place. The sturdy expression of this simple building harmonises well +with the bleak character of surrounding scenery. +</p> +</div> +</div> +<div id="ch29" class="div2 section"><span class="pageNum">[<a title="Go to the table of contents" href="#xd33e345">Contents</a>]</span><div class="divHead"> +<h3 class="main"><span class="sc">The Crick-stone.</span></h3> +</div> +<div class="divBody"> +<p class="first">Another noteworthy object, on this site of ancient enclosures, is the remarkable group +of three stones called by antiquaries the <span class="pageNum" id="pb120">[<a href="#pb120">120</a>]</span>men-an-tol, and by country folk the crick-stone, from the old custom (not yet extinct) +of “craming” (crawling on all fours) round the centre stone, and of creeping through +the hole in the same (when the person was thin enough) for the cure of lumbago, sciatic, +and other “cricks” and pains in the back. +</p> +<p>This mysterious monument is situated in a croft to the right of the Morvah road, about +half-a-mile in a northerly direction from Lenine town-place. Our antiquaries are as +much at variance with respect to the purpose for which this remarkable group was erected +as they are about the real purpose of the cromlech. Some hold that it is a sepulchral +monument, as well as the Men Scryfa (written stone) farther on, because there is a +tradition that in Gendhal, or Gednhal moor, a little below, there was once a battle +so great that the moor “ran with blood.” Others suppose it to have been used for some +druidical ceremonies similar to those not long since practised there; and by a great +number it is conjectured that this mysterious monument served for the computation +of time. Among those who think that the object of its erection was probably astronomical +is Professor Max Müller. This gentleman, in the <i>Quarterly Review</i> for August, 1867, after stating that the three stones are in a line bearing nearly +east and west, says:— +</p> +<p>“This men-an-tol may be an old dial, erected originally to fix the proper time for +the celebration of the autumnal equinox, and, though it may have been applied to other +purposes likewise, such as the curing of children by dragging them several times through +the hole, still its original intention may have been astronomical.” +</p> +<p>In another place, after speaking of the Mên-heers, or long stones (which, being mostly +found in pairs bearing nearly east and west, he thinks served the same purpose), he +continues:— +</p> +<p>“If their astronomical character could once be firmly established, it might even be +possible, at least approximately, to fix the time of their erection. If we suppose +that the shadow of the stones on each side of the men-an-tol was intended to fall +through the hole on the day of the autumnal equinox, then, if there is any slight +deviation at present, and that deviation in the direction demanded by the precession +of the equinoctial, points of difference might be calculated, and translated into +years, and we should thus be enabled to fix, at least with a margin of a century or +two, the time when that time piece was first set up on the high plains of Cornwall.” +</p> +<p>In concluding his notice of the Holed-stone of Lanine, he says:— +</p> +<p>“A mere shepherd, though he had never heard the name of astronomy, might have erected +such a stone for his own convenience, in order to know the time when he might safely +bring his flocks out, or take them back to their safer stables. But this would in +no way diminish the interest of the men-an-tol. It would still <span class="pageNum" id="pb121">[<a href="#pb121">121</a>]</span>remain one of the few relics of the childhood of our race; one of the witnesses of +the earliest workings of the human mind in its struggle against, and in its alliance +with, the powers of nature; one of the vestiges in the first civilization of the British +Isles.” +</p> +<p>Less than half-a-mile over the downs, in a northerly direction, brings us to the +</p> +</div> +</div> +<div id="ch30" class="div2 section"><span class="pageNum">[<a title="Go to the table of contents" href="#xd33e351">Contents</a>]</span><div class="divHead"> +<h3 class="main"><span class="sc">Men Scryfa (written stone.)</span></h3> +</div> +<div class="divBody"> +<p class="first">The safest plan for a stranger to take, in order to find this interesting monument, +is to return to, and proceed on, the Morvah road until nearly opposite Bosullow, where +a path will be found, on the right hand, leading to this ancient inscribed pillar, +which is one of the most important monuments in the west country, if not in the kingdom. +One side of the stone will be found inscribed with the words <span class="sc">Rialobran-Cunoval Fil</span>, signifying that Rialobran, the son of Cunoval, was here buried. The tradition of +the country folks says that a king slain in the battle of Gendhal moor, was buried +here with all his arms and treasures; and that the king stood nine feet high, which +was found to be the length of this pillar monument, when about half a century ago +an old curmudgeon of the neighbourhood upset the tombstone of Rialobran, the son of +Cunoval, in searching for the crock of gold, which he, in common with many others, +believed to be buried there. It is not known whether he found any treasures by his +digging, but he caused the stone to fall face downward, in which position it remained, +little heeded, until 1862, when it was replaced by the Antiquarian Society over the +warrior’s grave. +</p> +<p>A large tract of ground covered with furze and heath, surrounding this monument, used +to be called “Goon-men-scryfa” (inscribed stone downs.) +</p> +</div> +</div> +<div id="ch31" class="div2 section"><span class="pageNum">[<a title="Go to the table of contents" href="#xd33e357">Contents</a>]</span><div class="divHead"> +<h3 class="main"><span class="sc">The Four Parishes.</span></h3> +</div> +<div class="divBody"> +<p class="first">At a short distance to the northward of Men-scryfa, there is a large flat stone, with +a cross cut on it, to show that the four parishes of Madron, Gulval, Morvah, and Zennor +meet there. There is a tradition that some Saxon kings dined on this stone in days +of yore. +</p> +<p>According to another tradition, when Prince Arthur and four British kings were on +their way to drive the Danes from Penwith, they rested on this rock. +</p> +<p>Then, on their way down along towards the Land’s End, Prince Arthur and the four kings +collected the native Cornish, who fought the Danes, and under guidance of the royal +personages, conquered them, in the battle of Vellan-drucchar (wheel-mill) moor; where +the Danes were nearly all killed, and so great was the slaughter, that “the mill was +worked with blood,” so old folk said. +<span class="pageNum" id="pb122">[<a href="#pb122">122</a>]</span></p> +<p>From Goon-men-scryfa, the bold and curious pile of <span class="corr" id="xd33e2990" title="Source: Garn">Carn</span> Galva (goats’ carn) is a very striking object in the view, standing out as it does +near the sea, and six hundred feet or more above the sea level. +</p> +<p>From Men-scryfa, we take a northerly course, over the downs, to Carn Galva. +</p> +<p>One can’t fail to pass a pleasant time, should the weather be fine, among the rocks +and glades of Carn Galva. Above all, if we ramble hither through the ferns, heath, +and furze, in the whortleberry season, we may pick the rich fruit, roll in the shade, +or bask in the sun, on the beautiful green patches of turf, as soft as velvet, to +be found everywhere; or one may ramble in and out, and all around, playing hide-and-seek, +through the crellas between the carns, whence the good old Giant of the Carn often +sallied forth to protect his Morvah and Zennor people and their cattle against the +incursions of the giants of other carns and hills. Those of Trink and Trecrobben were +the most troublesome, because they lived near in castles strong and high. +</p> +<p>Now they say that when the Trecrobben giant once got the cattle, or tin, into his +stronghold, he would defy all other giants in the country. By the traditions, still +preserved in Morvah and its neighbourhood, +</p> +</div> +</div> +<div id="ch32" class="div2 section"><span class="pageNum">[<a title="Go to the table of contents" href="#xd33e363">Contents</a>]</span><div class="divHead"> +<h3 class="main"><span class="sc">The Giant of Carn Galva</span></h3> +</div> +<div class="divBody"> +<p class="first">was more playful than warlike. Though the old works of the giant now stand desolate, +we may still see, or get up and rock ourselves upon, the logan-stone which this dear +old giant placed on the most westerly carn of the range, that he might log himself +to sleep when he saw the sun dip into the waves and sea-birds fly to their homes in +the cleeves. Near the giant’s rocking-seat, one may still see a pile of cubical rocks, +which are almost as regular and shapely now as when the giant used to amuse himself +in building them up, and kicking them down again, for exercise or play, when alone +and he had nothing else to do. People of the northern hills have always had a loving +regard for the memory of this giant, because he appears to have passed all his life +at the carn in single blessedness, merely to protect his beloved people of Morvah +and Zennor from the depredations of the less honest Titans who then dwelt on Lelant +hills. Carn Galva giant never killed but one of the Morvah people in his life, and +that happened all through loving play. +</p> +<p>The giant was very fond of a fine young fellow, of Choone, who used to take a turn +over to the Carn, every now and then, just to see how the old giant was getting on, +to cheer him up a bit, play a game of bob, or anything else to help him pass his lonely +time away. One afternoon the giant was so well pleased with the good play they had +together, that when the young fellow of Choone <span class="pageNum" id="pb123">[<a href="#pb123">123</a>]</span>threw down his quoit to go away home, the giant, in a good-natured way, tapped his +playfellow on the head with the tips of his fingers. At the same time he said, “Be +sure to come again to-morrow, my son, and we will have a capital game of bob.” Before +the word “bob” was well out of the giant’s mouth, the young man dropped at his feet. +The giant’s fingers had gone right through his playmate’s skull. When, at last, the +giant became sensible of the damage he had done to the young man’s brain-pan, he did +his best to put the inside workings of his mate’s head to rights and plugged up his +finger-holes, but all to no purpose; for the young man was stone dead and cold, long +before he ceased doctoring his head. +</p> +<p>When the poor giant found it was all over with his playmate, he took the body in his +arms, and, sitting down on a large square rock at the foot of the carn, he rocked +himself to and fro; pressing the lifeless body to his bosom, he wailed and moaned +over him, bellowing and crying louder than the booming billows breaking on the rocks +in Permoina. +</p> +<p>“Oh, my son, my son, why didn’t they make the shell of thy noddle stronger? A es as +plum (soft) as a pie-crust, dough-baked, and made too thin by the half! How shall +I ever pass my time without thee to play bob and mop-and-heede? (hide-and-seek.)” +</p> +<p>The Giant of Carn Galva never rejoiced any more, but, in seven years or so, he pined +away and died of a broken heart. +</p> +<p>So Zennor people say, and that one may judge of the size of their giant very well, +as he placed his logan-rock at such a height that, when seated on it, to rock himself, +he could rest his feet comfortably on the green turf below. +</p> +<p>Some say that he gathered together the heap of square blocks, near his favourite resting-place, +that he might have them at hand to defend his people against the giants of Trecrobben +and Trink, with whom he fought many a hard battle. Yet when they were all on good +terms they would pass weeks on a stretch in playing together, and the quoits which +served them to play bob, as well as the rocks they hurled at each other when vexed, +may still be seen scattered all over this hilly region. +</p> +<p>Surely a grateful remembrance of this respectable giant will ever be preserved by +the descendants of those he protected in the northern hills. +</p> +<p>We have often heard the high country folks relate this legend of their giant in a +much more circumstantial manner than we can attempt, because we do not, like the good +Morvah folk, give implicit credence to all the traditions of Carn Galva. Yet this +romantic region makes us feel that +</p> +<div class="lgouter"> +<p class="line">“Surely there is a hidden power that reigns +</p> +<p class="line">Mid the lone majesty of untamed nature, +</p> +<p class="line">Controlling sober reason.”</p> +</div> +<p><span class="pageNum" id="pb124">[<a href="#pb124">124</a>]</span></p> +</div> +</div> +<div class="div2 last-child section"><span class="pageNum">[<a title="Go to the table of contents" href="#toc">Contents</a>]</span><div class="divHead"> +<h3 class="main"><span class="sc">Ding-Dong, Wheal Malkin, and Pusser Hosking’s Moils.</span></h3> +</div> +<div class="divBody"> +<p class="first">On our return from Carn Galva we may visit Ding-Dong. The works of Ding-Dong both +“at grass” and under ground, are very near our road to Carn Galva, and much of the +former visible nearly all the way from Men-scryfa. It is one of the most ancient and +extensive mines in the County. There are traditions (if not more trustworthy records) +that part of this old bal, called by a somewhat similar name (Din-an-doyng, if I remember +rightly), and other ancient workings known as Wheal Malkin, which are now united to +Ding-Dong, were wrought by the Jews in the time of King John. +</p> +<p>Little more than half a century ago, Wheal Malkin portion of this rich old mine was +solely in the hands of four or five adventurers. All of them, but one, held large +shares in Ding-Dong. They wished the two speculations to be united, as they might, +it was thought, be thus worked to greater advantage. But Mr. Hosking, of Lanyon, the +only one of the owners of Wheal Malkin who had no share in Ding-Dong, being averse +to this arrangement, his co-adventurers proposed that he should either sell his share, +or buy theirs. Mr. Hosking became the purchaser of the whole of Wheal Malkin. Some +say that a device, sometimes resorted to in similar transactions, was put in practice +by a working miner, to induce him to close with the dear bargain. However that may +have been, it is well known that he continued to work this property more to benefit +the public than himself. +</p> +<p>This worthy gentleman was generally known as Captain Hosking, from having been for +many years captain of the Mount’s Bay Yeomanry Cavalry, or the Guides, as they were +often styled, but his most popular designation in the part we are now rambling over +was the Pusser (purser) Hosking; and this latter title seems likely to be long preserved, +as well as some remembrance of the “Pusser’s” moils, in one of our odd every-day sayings. +</p> +<p>After Mr. Hosking built the sturdy-looking house we still see in Lenine, he resided +there for some years, and held the farm in hand. For the purpose of taking his tin +to smelting house, the captain kept a great number of mules (here called moils) on +the extensive furze-grounds of Lanyon. Some of the tinners, in passing over the downs, +to and from their work, often tried to get a ride on the “Pusser’s moils” and others, +for fun’s sake or out of pure wantonness, took great pleasure in tormenting these +sedate-looking animals; but the Pusser’s moils, to show how they disapproved of practical +joking, often imprinted the marks of their hoofs and teeth on their tormentors; and, +at last, they, one and all, took to give chase to every person who ventured on their +ground, except, indeed, the boys who brought them out straw or hay, now and <span class="pageNum" id="pb125">[<a href="#pb125">125</a>]</span>then, in winter, and their well-known driver, Mr. Hosking’s Ralfey, who was as fond +of the moils, and they of him, as if they had been brothers. +</p> +<p>If one only pointed a finger, in derision, at these testy animals, and called them +by their names, in a tone which they didn’t like, when they were filing along the +lanes with sacks of tin on their backs, they would at once leave their ranks and show +fight in spite of all Ralfey could do to soothe them. From these mulish traits of +inordinate self-esteem and combativeness in Mr. Hosking’s cattle originated the common +saying, often applied to a teasy person, “He’s like Pusser Hosking’s moils—waant bear +jestan.” +</p> +<p>Near Ding-Dong there are some ancient barrows, and the remains of what is supposed +to have been a Druidic circle called the Nine Maidens. +</p> +<p></p> +<div class="figure p125width"><img src="images/p125.png" alt="Long-haired goat." width="203" height="288"></div><p> +<span class="pageNum" id="pb126">[<a href="#pb126">126</a>]</span></p> +</div> +</div> +</div> +<div class="footnotes"> +<hr class="fnsep"> +<div class="footnote-body"> +<div class="fndiv" id="xd33e2921"> +<p class="footnote"><span class="fnlabel"><a class="noteRef" href="#xd33e2921src" title="Return to note 1 in text.">1</a></span> Mr. W. J. Henwood. <a class="fnarrow" href="#xd33e2921src" title="Return to note 1 in text.">↑</a></p> +</div> +</div> +</div> +</div> +<div id="ch33" class="div1 chapter"><span class="pageNum">[<a title="Go to the table of contents" href="#xd33e370">Contents</a>]</span><div class="divHead"> +<h2 class="main">THE PENZANCE OF OUR GRANDFATHERS.</h2> +<div class="argument"> +<p class="first">THE OLD MARKET-HOUSE AND ITS SURROUNDINGS—BATTLE OF ARCHITECTURAL STYLES—THE SELF-TAUGHT +ARCHITECT OF THE LAND’S END—BUSTLE OF A MARKET DAY—MADAM TREZILLIAN’S HEAD-DRESS—THE +ANCIENT FISH-WOMEN OF PENZANCE—NEW MANSIONS IN THE NEIGHBOURHOOD—THE SCHOOLDAYS AND +HOME OF PELLEW—THE WESTERN APPROACH TO PENZANCE (ALVERTON LANE)—PARSON SPRY, THE CURATE +OF SENNEN AND ST. LEVAN, HALF-A-CENTURY AGO, AND HIS WOODEN HORSE AND DOG “SPORT”—“SPORT’S” +BEHAVIOUR AT CHURCH AND IN CHURCHYARD—THE REV. JAMES BEVAN—COUNTRY CLERKS AND COUNTRY +CHOIRS—OLD CHRISTMAS CAROLS—ANCIENT MODE OF CONDUCTING FUNERALS—FORMER MEANS OF INFORMATION +AMONG THE PEOPLE—ASTROLOGERS OF THE WEST—CONJURORS AND THEIR SPELLS—OLD JUSTICE JONES +AND CHEAP LABOUR—THE VINGOES OF TREVILLE—THE JUSTICE’S PUNISHMENT—PELLEW AND HIS CORNISH +CREW—THE ANCIENT GAMES OF HURLING AND WRESTLING—OLD METHODS OF CONVEYANCE—RIDING PILLION—POPULAR +SONGS OF THE TIME, MALBROOK, AND SENTIMENTAL DITTIES—GREEN LANES AND FOOTPATHS—PACK-SADDLES, +OX-BUTTS, AND THE FIRST CARRIAGE—GOING TO TOWN ON MARKET-DAY—PENZANCE IN THE EARLY +PART OF THIS CENTURY, &c.—<i>Written September, 1867.</i></p> +</div> +<div class="epigraph"> +<div class="lgouter"> +<p class="line">Dim, dream-like forms! Your shadowy train +</p> +<p class="line">Around me gathers once again, +</p> +<p class="line">The same as in life’s morning hour, +</p> +<p class="line xd33e3048">Before my troubled gaze you pass’d: +</p> +<p class="line">Oh! this time shall I have the power— +</p> +<p class="line xd33e3048">Shall I essay to hold you fast?</p> +</div> +<p class="first xd33e759">—<i>Goethe’s Faust, Filmore’s Translation.</i> </p> +</div> +</div> +<div class="divBody"> +<div id="ch34" class="div2 section"><span class="pageNum">[<a title="Go to the table of contents" href="#xd33e376">Contents</a>]</span><div class="divHead"> +<h3 class="main"><span class="sc">The Old Market-House, and its Surroundings.</span></h3> +</div> +<div class="divBody"> +<p class="first">The completion of Penzance Public Buildings forms an epoch in the history of the place, +and an elderly person cannot help contrasting the present appearance of the town with +what it was three score years, or a century, ago; as we know it to have been from +well-remembered vestiges of the old time, and from the accounts of our grandparents, +who, if they revisited the glimpses of the gaslight in our town at the present time +would be much surprised, and not over well pleased, at all the changes which have +taken place during the last hundred years, many of <span class="pageNum" id="pb127">[<a href="#pb127">127</a>]</span>which are alterations without improvement, nay often wanton destruction of what can +never be restored, however regretted. Who that remembers the picturesque and interesting +old market-house, with the corresponding buildings surrounding or near it, such as +the house in which Sir Humphry Davy was born, the cosy nook under the balcony of the +‘Star’ Inn, where often of an evening he held his youthful comrades spellbound by +the wonderful stories that his poetical imagination inspired, can help regretting +removal and loss? I can’t understand, nor can many others, what was the inducement +to remove the old balcony from this inn, and other houses throughout the town. They +were no obstruction to the footpath, and the very aspect of these appropriate, cosy-looking +entrances to the old inns infused a feeling of comfort and seclusion that one misses +very much in the glaring lantern-like modern hotels. Besides, as an interesting memorial +of our most illustrious townsman, it is ten thousand pities it should have been destroyed. +The picturesque scene is gone, never to be restored, which was formed by the projecting +balcony, with its rustic pillars and casemented lights, combined with the high gables, +mullioned and labled windows, with the penthouse-like projections of the old market-house. +It is much to be regretted that, when the old building was taken down, its site should +have been occupied by any structure more massive than an elegant monument to Sir Humphry +Davy—suppose it had been a fountain, of an antique Gothic pattern, surmounted by the +statue of Sir Humphry, with niches in the basement for memorials of other celebrities +connected with the town, or its vicinity, as Pellew, Davies Gilbert, &c., &c. The +first mistake was to build on the site at all; the second to adopt the Italian style +for a building to be erected in such a confined space. It must be apparent to anyone +who has studied the matter that the Gothic or old English style, with its acute gables, +pinnacles, pendants, balconies, oriels, and other projecting appendages for use or +ornament, which that style admits, is felt to be more suitable to a confined space, +because any imitation of the classical styles is very unsatisfactory, unless it has +sufficient breadth and massiveness to produce the impression of grandeur, as well +as just proportion, which cannot be appreciated, however just it may be, unless there +is sufficient space around to allow the spectator the choice of a station from which +the whole facade of the building may be taken into the view. In the old English, on +the contrary, one does not look for breadth, massiveness, and correspondence in the +various portions of the structure, but rather to that lightness and variety which +is even more interesting when seen only in such broken portions, and from such points +of sight as would spoil the effect of the regular styles. Besides, perhaps from being +accustomed to meet with the picturesque old style in ancient <span class="pageNum" id="pb128">[<a href="#pb128">128</a>]</span>walled towns, where the streets are always narrow, it never seems out of place in +a confined space, if the surrounding buildings are of a simple or corresponding style, +or at least are not such as to produce a violent contrast. +</p> +<p>Any small building, designed after classical examples, looks naked and poor, and particularly +mean, unless the building-materials are of the best description and finish, and is +quite unsuitable for the houses of a narrow street, which must necessarily be small +and irregular, where the frontages range only from about 20 to 40 feet, and where +the adjoining houses belong to different proprietors, who delight to display their +independence of each other and common sense, by each one building on his 20 or 30 +feet frontage according to his own caprice, and desire to show off his own originality +of conception. +</p> +</div> +</div> +<div id="ch35" class="div2 section"><span class="pageNum">[<a title="Go to the table of contents" href="#xd33e382">Contents</a>]</span><div class="divHead"> +<h3 class="main"><span class="sc">The Battle of Architectural Styles.</span></h3> +</div> +<div class="divBody"> +<p class="first">If our beautiful old English style (which is the most suitable for the climate and +everything else) cannot be again restored, the next best is the Venetian, which may +be defined as the Saracenic (or what the French call the Grec-Arab) engrafted on the +Italian. The Venetian, like our old English (or domestic Gothic, if you will), admits +of great irregularity, and of great variety in the ornamentation. French architects +have shown their appreciation of the peculiar suitableness of this variety for irregular +and comparatively narrow streets, from their having adopted it in many of the old +narrow streets abutting on the Seine, as may have been noted by some of our townsmen, +who have recently visited the Exhibition and the gay capital generally. +</p> +</div> +</div> +<div id="ch36" class="div2 section"><span class="pageNum">[<a title="Go to the table of contents" href="#xd33e388">Contents</a>]</span><div class="divHead"> +<h3 class="main"><span class="sc">The Self-Taught Architect of the Land’s End.</span></h3> +</div> +<div class="divBody"> +<p class="first">As pretty fair examples of the adaptability of the old English to all the exigencies +of modern comfort and refinement, and to prove that one may do whatever one likes +with this pliable style, we have the Abbey, the Marine Retreat, some small cottages +in Back Lane, also two or three pairs of semi-detached cottages near the Catholic +Church. There are also some caricatures and abominable shams about, which throw discredit +on the style. As interesting looking, therefore pleasing, villa residences we have +Pendrea and Trewidden. Farther afield, there is an excellent example of picturesque +simplicity and variety in the parsonage-house near Halsetown. This house is well worth +the study of builders for its convenient arrangement on a square plan, for the variety +of pleasing forms in the doorways, windows, and well-proportioned chimney-stacks and +gables, as well as the ornamental slate-work with which some of its gables are dressed, +as being more durable than ordinary barge-boards, which soon decay, whereas the slate +<span class="pageNum" id="pb129">[<a href="#pb129">129</a>]</span>is everlasting. Nothing can form more picturesque groupings than this parsonage, and +its church of corresponding style. As another example to show how our old English +seems at home and at its ease everywhere, observe how well the addition made to the +“First and Last,” becomes its site. This portion of the ancient inn at Sennen, and +the cottages in Back Lane, Penzance, were designed by a self-taught architect, born +and bred in Sennen, Mr. Charles Hutchens, who resided many years at Torpoint, constructed +many buildings in Devonport, in the Three Towns generally, and in other parts of the +country, of which any architect might be proud. The nephew of this gentleman, Mr. +Thomas Hutchens, of Sennen, is now Mr. Gilbert Scott’s right-hand man; and, like his +master, his whole heart and soul is devoted to Gothic architecture. +</p> +<p>In the opinion of many persons of taste, the quaint old market house—low, irregular, +and devoid of all pretentions to ornament—when surrounded by houses of as simple a +mode, was a more pleasing object than the present insipid, silly-looking structure, +which, when first seen from Market-jew-street, looks like a heavy wall to support +a portico and dome to which there is no body of building. A grand entrance, to which +one cannot see the means of access, and which apparently leads to nothing. This end +is the more faulty, because the most pretentious. +</p> +<p>The old French chateau style, with its steep pitched roofs, turrets, galleries, balconies, +&c., (of which we have a fair example in the Queen’s Hotel) is far better adapted +for a private residence in our wet and windy climate than the naked, cold-looking +Italian, with its flat, low-pitched roof, ashamed to be seen, and such other appurtenances +as are only suitable for a temple, or other large public building, in a sunny clime. +</p> +</div> +</div> +<div id="ch37" class="div2 section"><span class="pageNum">[<a title="Go to the table of contents" href="#xd33e394">Contents</a>]</span><div class="divHead"> +<h3 class="main"><span class="sc">The Bustle of a Market Day.</span></h3> +</div> +<div class="divBody"> +<p class="first">We cannot think of the old market-house without remembering the animated scene around +it of a market day. On the higher side, at the corn-market steps, opposite the ‘Golden +Lion,’ the jolly farmers and their buxom wives would be seen arriving, seated each +on two or more sacks of grain, with a basket of butter and eggs on the dame’s arm, +and probably a basket of poultry on that of her lord. The crowing, squalling, laughing, +and scolding, showed a sound heart and lungs, and that the old folks were neither +ashamed nor afraid to be seen to do their own work; and the appetizing steam which +ascended through the open kitchen window of the <span class="corr" id="xd33e3089" title="Source: cozy">cosy</span> hostel, at the foot of the stairs, told them, as the screeching, hard-labouring, +roasting-jack, as plainly as jack could speak, that plenty of good substantial fare +would soon be ready for their equally substantial appetites. There is no mistake about +it; there was less nonsense about people then than now. <span class="pageNum" id="pb130">[<a href="#pb130">130</a>]</span>At that time the ladies of squires, merchants, and farmers, did their own marketing, +aye and often such dames as Mesdames Noye, Trezillian, Ustick, Pender, in the west +country, and others of equal rank in town, would ride to mill on sacks of corn and +bolt the meal themselves. The sturdy butchers—to be seen in the meat market then—were +mostly occupiers of land near the town, and cultivated many of the farms of Madron. +The crooks with which the transverse bars (between the stalls and overhead in all +parts of the house) were armed, sometimes caught in the ladies’ towering head-dresses. +</p> +</div> +</div> +<div id="ch38" class="div2 section"><span class="pageNum">[<a title="Go to the table of contents" href="#xd33e400">Contents</a>]</span><div class="divHead"> +<h3 class="main"><span class="sc">Madam Trezillian’s Head-Dress.</span></h3> +</div> +<div class="divBody"> +<p class="first">There is a story told of a gay Madam Trezillian, of Raftra, who outdid all other ladies +in the west country in the breadth of her hoops and the height of her tete, as the +tower of cushions, ribbons, lace, and hair was called with which the heads of the +dames were surmounted. Against one St. Levan feast a barber was had out from Penzance +to dress the lady’s head-piece in the most approved mode of the town. It must be understood +that when the heads of these ancient belles were put <i>en grande</i> toilette they were not taken down at night, often for weeks together. +</p> +<p>That these monstrous head-pieces might not be deranged, the bedsteads were made a +foot or two longer than the ordinary affair of the present day. During the feasten +week, having company to entertain all the time, madam’s tete of course was not disturbed, +nor for a week or two after, when she was engaged in visiting, until she felt such +a head-ache that she was obliged to send for Dr. Maddron, from St. Just, that he might +see what ailed her noddle. Still the precious mass of wool, pomatum, &c., remained +undisturbed on the outside, when the doctor arrived, and insisted on having it taken +down and opened. Then they say that he found a nest of mice had been littered in the +greasy pads which raised the lady’s hair, besides any quantity of fly-blows in their +different stages of growth. No doubt, the old mother mouse came every night to nurse +her interesting tender brood of young ones. Madam’s head was in such a state that +she was obliged to have it shaved. The hair was carefully saved and made up into a +false head-dress (one could hardly call it a wig) against Madron-tide, when she came +to pass the feast with Squire Daniel at Alverton. The feasten eve, in walking through +the market house with Madam Daniel, the bows of her towering tete caught on the crooks. +Still, on she walked the whole length of the market, when she discovered her loss +by the uproar of laughter with which the lady’s bald pate and her suspended head-dress +were greeted by the butchers and their boys, and by their wives as well. +<span class="pageNum" id="pb131">[<a href="#pb131">131</a>]</span></p> +</div> +</div> +<div id="ch39" class="div2 section"><span class="pageNum">[<a title="Go to the table of contents" href="#xd33e406">Contents</a>]</span><div class="divHead"> +<h3 class="main"><span class="sc">The Ancient Fish-Women of Penzance.</span></h3> +</div> +<div class="divBody"> +<p class="first">One can’t take leave of the old market without some notice of the handsome fisherwomen, +in their picturesque old costume of short scarlet cloaks and broad felt hats, which +well became their coal-black eyes and hair, and heightened the oriental cast of their +countenances. Then their tongues, loud and musical, hailing every one who passed the +street:—“Wount <span class="corr" title="Source: e">’e</span> buy some nice fresh fish to-day, my dear?” “Cheeld vean; why you shall have en for +nothan; do come here!” As well as their chaffing and slack jaw at each other and all +the world besides. Above all, the shoemakers, who kept their stalls near by, came +in for a good share of their gibes. People had a heart to laugh then, and were all +the better friends even for a little rough talk, before so much organised hypocrisy, +whining cant, and morbid feeling became the fashion, which seems, if possible, to +be increasing in intensity and stupidity in Penzance. +</p> +<p>The buildings surrounding the Market Place, Green-Market, and many other parts of +the town, were mongrelized about the time of the erection of the new structure by +taking the mullions out of the windows of many houses, lowering the pitch of their +roofs, erecting useless unmeaning parapets, covering walls of dressed granite and +ornamental slate work with plaster and other shams, until the surrounding buildings +were changed into worse-looking objects if possible than the centre piece. A specimen +of the true appreciation of just proportion which seems to have been intuitive with +old masons may yet be seen in the dressed chimney-stacks, with embattled mouldings, +belonging to an old house at the north-western corner of the market-place. In the +premises, more examples of the old style will be found. When this old house was first +built, it was said to have been the grandest mansion in Buriton, as a good part of +what is now included with old Penzance was then named,—all around the Market Place. +</p> +</div> +</div> +<div id="ch40" class="div2 section"><span class="pageNum">[<a title="Go to the table of contents" href="#xd33e412">Contents</a>]</span><div class="divHead"> +<h3 class="main"><span class="sc">The School-Days and Home of Pellew.</span></h3> +</div> +<div class="divBody"> +<p class="first">Near the Alverton entrance to Fox’s gardens is an old thatched cottage<a class="noteRef" id="xd33e3121src" href="#xd33e3121" title="Go to note 1.">1</a> which ought to have been regarded with much interest, as it was the home of Pellew +(Admiral Lord Exmouth) during his boyish days. Here he lived with his aged grandmother, +Madam Woodhouse, until he left to commence his career of usefulness and glory that +added much to the renown of the British nation. I have heard many anecdotes of the +hero’s boyish days from an old lady of the West Country (the daughter of a gentleman +farmer of Sennen) who, when a girl in her teens, was sent to Penzance <span class="pageNum" id="pb132">[<a href="#pb132">132</a>]</span>to reside with her uncle and aunt, that she might attend a better school than was +to be found in the West Country. +</p> +<p>At that time boys and girls often went to the same school until they were much older +than it would be considered decorous for them to remain together in these thin-skinned, +fastidious times. +</p> +<p>Young Pellew went to the same school as the girl from the Land’s End, who, being two +or three years older than the boy, called for him at his grandmother’s house; but +the country girl always had a hard task to get him to school, and often, in spite +of all she could do, and threats of the old lady’s cane, young Pellew would take off +to the Quay, whither the girl had to follow, as, if she was known to have let him +escape, she would get a sound thrashing from her own aunt, who was a great friend +of the boy’s grandmother and paid the same attention to the boy Edward Pellew as to +her own children. As soon as the boy reached the pier he would spring into the first +boat he found afloat, cast off the painter, and away to sea, without staying to notice +if there were oars in the boat or not. +</p> +<p>His companion and guardian in petticoats would remain on the Battery rocks, or pier, +with her knitting or needle-work, that she might signal to Pellew when it was time +for him to come in, to return home to dinner. +</p> +<p>Often the fishermen and sailors at the Quay, who all loved the daring boy and kept +a watch over him, would go out in another boat and help him to come ashore in time +to save his bacon. Sometimes one or both of the old ladies would find out the truants, +come to the Quay after them, and beat them both home to Alverton lane, where Pellew +would take refuge with old Mr. Boase, who always took the boy’s part, as well as that +of his niece (the west country girl) in spite of all the old ladies and the schoolmaster +might say. +</p> +<p>To make amends for the beatings the Sennen girl got for letting Edward Pellew escape +from school (which she liked to do very well herself now and then) and for doing his +sums for him (whilst he occupied himself in making boats and ship’s gearing under +the desk), he would often drive her uncle’s cows from the Weeths (the ground that +is now Mr. Bolitho’s lawn) down to Alverton to water, or bring them home to their +yard in Alverton lane—the site of which was near where our worthy Mayor’s (Mr. Francis +Boase) garden now stands—to be milked of an evening. +</p> +<p>As he was soon taught to be a famous boxer by his friends the sailors of the Quay, +who would always have him with them if they could, he wanted to put his science in +practice by thrashing any boy double his size, if they happened to offend his protectress, +who, when fourscore years of age, has often shown me a lot of trifles Pellew sent +home to his grandmother for his old school-mate; <span class="pageNum" id="pb133">[<a href="#pb133">133</a>]</span>among other things a variety of perforated foreign coins, such as sailors like to +suspend from their watch chains, a pair of ladies’ silver shoe-buckles, &c. +</p> +<p>When Pellew went to sea the old lady, his grandmother, used often to say, “If I could +but live to see my Teddy made a captain I would die contented.” The old lady lived +long enough to see him knighted, and I think made an Admiral, before she died. +</p> +<p>How Sir Edward Pellew would have none, or few, but Cornish men for his crew; how the +Mount’s Bay and St. Just men would volunteer for him, when the press gang (who wanted +men, and the devil a man could they get for other ships but his) were beaten out of +Mousehole by the women, led on by Ann St. Doyd (Ann’s right name was Pentreath), armed +with a red-hot poker, is well known. As every incident of his life, after he went +to sea, became matter of history, we cannot claim any more of it as belonging exclusively +to Penzance. +</p> +</div> +</div> +<div id="ch41" class="div2 section"><span class="pageNum">[<a title="Go to the table of contents" href="#xd33e418">Contents</a>]</span><div class="divHead"> +<h3 class="main"><span class="sc">The Western Approach to Penzance (Alverton Lane.)</span></h3> +</div> +<div class="divBody"> +<p class="first">From the house in which Admiral Lord Exmouth passed his boyish days there was a pleasant +footpath, long after that time, through the fields to Alverton, <span class="corr" id="xd33e3143" title="Source: seperated">separated</span> from the lane by a high hedge and shady trees; and the lane itself, from the Ellises’ +Mansion (or the site of the Western hotel) to the seat of the Daniels, in Alverton +(or probably the Jenkin’s at that time), was like a bower all the way, with the overhanging +trees, except a good strip of green extending from Mr. F. Boase’s house down almost +to the pathway leading to Alverton well. On this green the fair was formerly held. +It has but recently been removed to a field. All the highroads at this time were pleasant +green lanes. There was no such thing as a cart West of Penzance. Here and there an +ox-butt might be found. We will return to the green lanes, and those who jogged along +them on bow-pad or pillion, when we come to take a retrospective view of the country. +</p> +</div> +</div> +<div id="ch42" class="div2 section"><span class="pageNum">[<a title="Go to the table of contents" href="#xd33e424">Contents</a>]</span><div class="divHead"> +<h3 class="main"><span class="sc">Parson Spry, the Curate of Sennen and St. Levan, Half a Century Ago, and His Wooden +Horse and Dog “Sport.”</span></h3> +</div> +<div class="divBody"> +<p class="first">Before leaving this part of the town, let us cast a glance at the three or four little +cottage-like dwellings just opposite the lane leading to the Well fields, on the higher +side of the entrance to The Hollies. These cottages were regarded as very genteel +residences, half a century ago, before the North Parade and some score of other terraces, +which now form the most pleasant portions of the town, were ever born or thought of. +Then, the cottage nearest to The Hollies’ gate was the residence of the Rev. William +Spry, many years curate of Sennen and St. Levan. The reverend <span class="pageNum" id="pb134">[<a href="#pb134">134</a>]</span>gentleman was one of those eccentric, or independent, characters who pay no regard +either to conventional modes or to the opinion of those who have no need to trouble +themselves about their harmless whims. His dapper little figure, dressed up in the +most anti-clerical, not to say ridiculous, of costumes, must still be well remembered +by many in town and country. Notwithstanding his eccentric vagaries, he was always +a welcome guest, for the sake of his never-failing good humour, quick repartee, and +the droll stories of which he was generally the hero. His most extravagant freaks +were mostly harmless, and always amusing, at least to the spectators (yet with all +the care taken to qualify his characteristics, we may have to make some exceptions +when the parson mounts his wooden horse.) +</p> +<p>When in the reading-room, public library, or any other place of resort for gentlemen +of the town, the parson was always the centre of attraction and fun. One day, in the +library, Mr. Spry was, as usual, relating some of his amusing drolls, when an elderly +gent, Gen. Tench (who very much liked to hear himself talk), finding that he could +not have the chance to get in a word edgeways even, interrupted the parson by saying +“Come, Mr. Spry, as you appear to know a great deal about everything, be pleased to +explain the difference between a major canon and a minor canon?” “Pho! pho!” replied +Mr. Spry, in his lisping accent, “what a general! not to know the difference between +a major cannon and a minor cannon. Why a major cannon is a great gun, and a minor +cannon is a thun (son) of a cun (gun), to be thure (sure.)” The general wheeled on +his heels, and went away without firing any more of his guns at the parson for that +day. +</p> +<p>The reverend gentleman, finding the hire of a horse to take him to the scene of his +clerical duties more than he could well afford out of his slender income, took it +into his head to have a velocipede, hoping, with the assistance of the machine, to +be able to ride out to the Land’s End at his ease, hills excepted, when he would have +to drag his horse. He first exercised his wooden horse, by way of breaking it in, +on the descent from St. Just lane’s end to Alverton. He was very proud of his horse, +when he found it would run down the hill with so much speed. The next market day, +early in the morning, the parson stationed himself, mounted on his horse, on the top +of Tul-tuf hill, to challenge anybody coming from, or going to the market, to try +a race, always down the hill be it understood. Plenty of the farmers desired no better +fun than to try a race with the parson on his wooden horse; but their own nags, not +knowing what to make of the parson’s queer beast, going like the wind on three legs, +in their fears and doubts about the nature of the thing threw their riders in the +ditch, and sprung over the hedges, that they might not be overtaken by what <span class="pageNum" id="pb135">[<a href="#pb135">135</a>]</span>they must have thought a most unnatural-looking affair. So the parson won the wager, +and boasted long and loud that his horse was the best in the West; but in the last +race that Thursday morn, the three-legged Bucephalus attained such velocity in descending +the hill near Alverton that it became quite unmanageable and fairly ran away with +its gallant rider as fast as its wheels could spin. When it came to Alverton water +(there was no bridge over the water which then worked the old factory) several market +women were on their nags, in the midst of the pooled-up water, to let their horses +drink and breathe awhile. +</p> +<p>Whilst their heavy baskets of butter and eggs rested carelessly on their knees to +give rest to their weary arms whilst having a chat, in dashed the parson, on his horse, +in the very midst of them. He tumbled over in the water, with the machine between +his legs. All the women were thrown off their horses, which galloped away—some home, +some like mad into the town to their accustomed yards and stables, others ran they +<span class="corr" id="xd33e3162" title="Source: did’nt">didn’t</span> know where; but fancy what a wreck was there, with the broken eggs, barm-jars, butter, +and baskets on the road, or floating down the stream! The women were so exasperated +that they half-killed the parson between them. In the heat of their passion they pelted +him with butter and eggs, then rolled him in the mud, until luckily some gentlemen +came to the rescue of the parson and his steed. +</p> +<p>The next Sunday the reverend gentleman being unable to attend to his duties at the +Land’s End, his parishioners, as well as most of the people of the West, who had congregated +at St. Levan church and along the roads, hoping to see the parson racing his horse, +were much disappointed. The fame of his Thursday’s adventure had spread far and near, +so that such a gathering was never seen before in the church except at the feasten +tide. Against the following Sunday the parson had sufficiently recovered his broken +skin and his courage to be off early in the morning, for fear of disappointing his +congregation again. The people waited long about the cliff and Rospletha hill, looking +out in vain; at last, fearing some accident had happened, from seeing neither sight +nor sign of their pastor, a good number of them proceeded along the road towards Penzance, +two miles or more, when they saw the parson’s well-known dog, Sport, coming towards +them. Sport testified his joy at seeing some of his friends, and ran back, yelping +and barking, and looking behind him to beg the people to follow him fast. In a few +minutes, on turning the corner of Cotneywilley, they found the parson and his horse +in a deep pool of mud at the bottom of the hill, or rather the runaway steed was deep +in the muddy hole. The rider had contrived to scramble out and shake himself just +as they arrived. Old Mr. Ellis, of Trendrennen, being among the people who came to +the relief of their forlorn pastor, he was helped along to that <span class="pageNum" id="pb136">[<a href="#pb136">136</a>]</span>old gentleman’s house, which the parson usually made his resting-place. +</p> +<p>Mr. Spry never trusted his wooden horse to make such long journeys any more, and people +of the two western parishes, who liked their parson very much, because he was very +sociable, never wearied them with tiresome platitudes, nor bothered them with what +some call deep (that is inexplicable) dogmas and notions, were very indulgent, and +never complained whether he came early or late, or stayed away for weeks together +on account of bad weather. +</p> +</div> +</div> +<div class="div2 section"><span class="pageNum">[<a title="Go to the table of contents" href="#toc">Contents</a>]</span><div class="divHead"> +<h3 class="main"><span class="sc">“Sport’s” Behaviour at Church and in Churchyard.</span></h3> +</div> +<div class="divBody"> +<p class="first">The doings of the parson’s handsome black dog Sport added much to the interest of +the Sunday’s performances. Sport seemed to think that some dogs belonging to his master’s +parishes had not so much right to enjoy church privileges as himself. To others—larger +dogs than himself—he was more indulgent, and even condescended to wag his tail at +them, but woe to any audacious dog of a smaller size, or a shorter tail, that presumed +to venture into the more respectable or parson’s portion of the church East of the +rud locks (rood loft.) Sport would then show the rustic dogs the colour of his teeth +and drive them into the belfry, where the other country dogs would follow to see fair +play, or perhaps to give the town-bred puppy a bite by the sly, if they saw their +own comrade likely to get the worst of the game. +</p> +<p>One Sunday, a dog belonging to a farmer who sat near the chancel, seemed inclined +to come nearer the parson’s ground than he liked. Both dogs then said as plain as +looks could express, “Come then, to decide which shall look the biggest; let’s try +our right, down in the belfry, by a quiet bit of a fight.” Off walked the two dogs, +began and continued their fight without making much noise, until the parson was in +the midst of reading the second lesson. Then Sport gave some dreadful yells, which +so much alarmed his master, that he stopped reading, bundled up his surplice under +his arm, ran in all haste down to the belfry, drove out the country dog, and shut +in his own by way of penance among the shovels, brooms, pickaxes, bell-ropes, planks, +and other lumber. When the parson returned to the reading-desk, he leaned over towards +the old clerk, and asked “Where was I, Josey?” meaning the verse of the lesson at +which he left off. Uncle Josey, the clerk, being rather deaf, like most deaf people +spoke rather loud—loud enough to be heard all over the church—when he intended only +to whisper “Where war <span class="corr" title="Source: e">’e</span>? What do <span class="corr" title="Source: e">’e</span> mean, master? Why down in the belfry, parting the dogs to be sure!” Sport took it +in high dudgeon, to be imprisoned like a felon. When he found barking and howling +of no use towards procuring his release from durance <span class="pageNum" id="pb137">[<a href="#pb137">137</a>]</span>vile, he contrived to entangle himself in the bell-rope (left dangling up and down) +by getting his head into the running noose, made by the sexton for his foot, to assist +in tolling the great bell, which Sport set a ringing and soon rung himself out. +</p> +<p>Another day, whilst the parson was reading the burial service over the defunct, his +dog Sport behaved himself in a very unseemly manner, for such a solemn occasion, by +kicking up a dust among the dry-bones, howling at the mourners, catching their dresses +in his mouth, and renting off yards of the deepest affliction or crape from the young +widow, and other such like pranks. The parson, reading, with one eye on the book, +the other on his dog, at the end of every portion where the clerk had to respond Amen, +called “Sport!” and Sport replied with a bark. At the conclusion, in the same breath +with the words, “Ashes to ashes, dust to dust, I commit this body to the ground,” +the parson called out louder than ever “Sport! Sport! Come here;” turning quickly +round at the same time as if to catch the dog and bury him. +</p> +<p>There is much more told by good folks of the two most western parishes about the freaks +of this reverend gentleman who had the cure of their souls half a century ago; but +enough has been related to give some idea of the greater simplicity of those times, +when there certainly was not the same sourness, and disposition to magnify faults +and failings into mortal sins, as there is now by the rampant religionists, who display +their ferocious virtue principally by circulating slander, under the guise of pity +for those who do not choose to adopt their morbid notions, whining cant, and grimace. +</p> +<p>A short time after the velocipede adventure, Mr. Spry removed hence to Morwelham, +and soon became as well known on the Tamar as here, for his eccentric freaks. +</p> +</div> +</div> +<div id="ch43" class="div2 section"><span class="pageNum">[<a title="Go to the table of contents" href="#xd33e430">Contents</a>]</span><div class="divHead"> +<h3 class="main"><span class="sc">The Rev. James Bevan.</span></h3> +</div> +<div class="divBody"> +<p class="first">A little more than sixty years ago, the Rev. James Bevan, of Glamorganshire, died +at St. Levan. This gentleman lived amongst his parishioners, and served as curate +in the two western parishes, nearly half a century. Old folks of the West always speak +with great respect of this venerable clergyman and his family, who were regarded by +the people with as much affection as if they had been their near relatives. A handsome +tablet has recently been erected to the memory of this gentleman in St. Levan church, +as also one to Miss Thomazine Dennis. This lady was born at Sawah, and noted for her +literary and scientific acquirements, which were the more notable in one brought up +in that remote part of the world. We hope these memorials, and many other objects +of interest in the remarkable old church, will long remain <span class="pageNum" id="pb138">[<a href="#pb138">138</a>]</span>undisturbed in spite of the contemplated destruction of one of the most interesting +monuments of ecclesiastical architecture to be found in the county, and which is hallowed +by traditions dear to the people who properly belong to the place. +</p> +</div> +</div> +<div id="ch44" class="div2 section"><span class="pageNum">[<a title="Go to the table of contents" href="#xd33e437">Contents</a>]</span><div class="divHead"> +<h3 class="main"><span class="sc">Country Clerks and Country Choirs.</span></h3> +</div> +<div class="divBody"> +<p class="first">In conjunction with the good parsons, we have a pleasing remembrance of the respectable, +unaffected old clerks, to be found in most of the country churches half a century +ago. In general, the clerks were small farmers sufficiently well educated to be able +to read the Bible and church service fluently (occasionally passing over hard words); +but, from their having no other books to read in country schools than the universal +spelling-book, psalter, and Bible, they were incapable of understanding any work of +general literature (as a great part of our agricultural population are now, in fact.) +</p> +</div> +</div> +<div id="ch45" class="div2 section"><span class="pageNum">[<a title="Go to the table of contents" href="#xd33e443">Contents</a>]</span><div class="divHead"> +<h3 class="main"><span class="sc">Old Christmas Carols.</span></h3> +</div> +<div class="divBody"> +<p class="first">Our clerks were mostly the leaders of the choir, if such a term may be applied to +the four or five old men who droned out the psalms from the singing-loft, where every +Sunday one or two psalms from the old version were sung in parts, much after the manner +of the old three-man’s-songs. One might often hear the old clerk in Sennen give out +the lines beginning with, “My saule is like a timmersone bur-r-d-e, &c.” Then, after +he had made the pitch-pipe produce a shrieking squeak, the three or four old souls, +accompanied by their bass-viol, would quaver on, making such shrill and startling +sounds as would set your hair on end and shake your teeth loose. Down in St. Levan, +Uncle Josey, the clerk, would always have his own way about the singing, in spite +of the parson and everybody else. His favourite psalm was all about “the precious +ointment running from Aaron’s beard down unto the skirts of his raiment.” From the +old man’s admiration of this odorous and unctuous song of praise, one seldom had any +other than what were known as the Aaron psalm and “t’other.” In the carol singing, +on Christmas eve at night, the old men sang, and their brass buttons shone in all +their glory, when, with heart and soul, they were ringing out such joyous strains +as “Now let us be merry, and set sorrow aside,” &c. +</p> +<p>Another favourite was an older carol, with the chorus of “Noel, noel, noel, born is +the king of Israel.” There were often sung still older ones, which contain many such +old catholic traditions as are found in the apocryphal gospel of St. Nichodemus and +Lives of the Saints, such as one about the blessed Mary walking through the orchard, +when she longed for a red ripe apple far above her reach, “Then up spoke the babe +in blessed Mary’s womb; bow <span class="pageNum" id="pb139">[<a href="#pb139">139</a>]</span>down, apple tree, bow down, apple tree, that mother may have some.” +</p> +<p>These simple ditties were then regarded with much reverence for their high antiquity. +Some of the old manuscript carol-books, formerly used in churches at Christmas-tide, +are still preserved with religious care by old folks of the West. +</p> +</div> +</div> +<div id="ch46" class="div2 section"><span class="pageNum">[<a title="Go to the table of contents" href="#xd33e449">Contents</a>]</span><div class="divHead"> +<h3 class="main"><span class="sc">Ancient Mode of Conducting Funerals.</span></h3> +</div> +<div class="divBody"> +<p class="first">At this time, and long before, the men of Zennor were noticeable for their singing +and other musical attainments, which they made a source of pleasure and profit, to +themselves at least, from their being often asked to parish-feasts from a good distance +off, especially down West (the wise folk live t’other side) that the feasters might +be gratified by their harmonious strains in church on the Sunday, and brisk dancing +tunes on their fiddles to set their heels a-shaking on other nights of the feasten +week, besides for the sake of the new songs they often contrived to learn from the +show people in Corpus Christi fair. But they were not often asked two years following, +because when they once got into comfortable quarters, it was no easy matter to get +rid of them until long after servy-day,<a class="noteRef" id="xd33e3217src" href="#xd33e3217" title="Go to note 2.">2</a> when they had more than eaten their welcome. For the sake of their psalm-singing +they used also to be often asked to attend funerals round about, when the friends +wished to show more than ordinary respect to the deceased or themselves, and have +the disconsolate widows cheered. The Zennor men, with their wives and children, never +failed to come, with half a word’s asking, from miles away, and they have the same +fondness for funerals still; whether seed-time or harvest, sunshine or rainy day, +Zennor folks, old and young, will leave their work and scamper over hills and moors +miles away to “a good buryal” (burying), where there is likely to be plenty of toddy +and tobacco, cake and biscuit, provided for all comers. But their room is often better +liked than their company; for, after the men have smoked and pocketed up as much good +shag as opportunity would favour them to take, by stuffing into the palm of the hand +instead of the bowl of the pipe, drunk as much toddy as they could possibly contrive +to get hold of by shifting about from place to place, so as to be always near the +jug of hot liquor as it is carried round for the people who remain outside, the women +and children all push indoors that can, to look sharp after the cake and biscuits, +of which they contrive to pocket up a good store for the children left home, and don’t +forget the toddy, believe me, even if they have a “dish of nice, sweet, strong tea, +shure enough.” After having stuffed and quaffed till near bursting point, they will +scamper away home like prall’d<a class="noteRef" id="xd33e3220src" href="#xd33e3220" title="Go to note 3.">3</a> dogs, and the devil a finger will they lend to help take the poor defunct <span class="pageNum" id="pb140">[<a href="#pb140">140</a>]</span>to his last home, often miles away, leave alone the singing. They are often too drunk +to raise the funeral note, and make some fun, which serves just as well, by getting +into an old ballad-tune by mistake. Zennor folks are not often asked to parish feasts +for the sake of their singing now: they may stay home and bleat to Carn Galver for +what anyone cares about the greedy goats. +</p> +</div> +</div> +<div id="ch47" class="div2 section"><span class="pageNum">[<a title="Go to the table of contents" href="#xd33e456">Contents</a>]</span><div class="divHead"> +<h3 class="main"><span class="sc">Former Means of Information Among the People.</span></h3> +</div> +<div class="divBody"> +<p class="first">We may here take leave of our old clerks, observing that they were in general better +educated, or at least better informed, than the rest of the community, few of whom +knew anything about what might be regarded as the current literature of the time. +Yet, with all their ignorance of every work of fiction, except Robinson Crusoe and +the Pilgrim’s Progress (the former always regarded as literally true), the oldest +of old folks of fifty years ago knew many scraps of Grecian and Roman lore, as well +as rare legends of ordinary saints, besides all those of our local ones. The story +of the taking of Troytown was as well known to many as the game of that name. I well +remember an old farm labourer who did not know his a, b, c; yet he would tell you +much about the principal heroes of mythic history, and acquired the nickname of Plato +from his always going about singing, when alone, the old song almost worthy of the +sage, “Says Plato, why should man be vain, since bounteous heaven has made him great?” +&c., or another about Aurora and Flora. +</p> +<p>How came these uneducated and poor folks to get hold of so much of the old world lore? +It may partly be accounted for by the more gregarious, or sociable, customs of the +olden times, when there was much less to do in the winter season, before turnips were +introduced into the west country (in a great measure by the example of the late Colonel +Scobell), there being then but few cattle housed. Great part of the winter’s day was +passed in hunting, in which sport one and all joined. After the substantial supper—no +slops of tea then, but good home-brewed, with bread and cheese, beef, mutton, or bacon—the +mistress and her maids spun, whilst the men carded the wool, song-singing and story-telling +going on all the time, or the master read from their favourite Robinson Crusoe, or +from Moore’s Almanack, which was also a great resource, or recited some drolls which +all knew by heart; yet they never tire of hearing them repeated, with such variations +and embellishments as some recent occurrence might often suggest. +</p> +<p>A vast amount of curious information may also be traced to the sociable and beloved +old parson, who kept up such familiar intercourse with his flock as to sympathise +with all their joys and griefs, and to join in all their sports and pastimes during +nearly half a century. +<span class="pageNum" id="pb141">[<a href="#pb141">141</a>]</span></p> +</div> +</div> +<div id="ch48" class="div2 section"><span class="pageNum">[<a title="Go to the table of contents" href="#xd33e462">Contents</a>]</span><div class="divHead"> +<h3 class="main"><span class="sc">The Astrologers of the West.</span></h3> +</div> +<div class="divBody"> +<p class="first">We are long lingering amongst those old folks whom we are much inclined to regard +as rude and uncouth. Yet our vaunted refinement has not discovered anything much better +to supply the loss of the honest simplicity and the all-above board character of people +of the last century. +</p> +<p>We may observe that the foregoing remarks, with respect to the restricted education +of the generality of people of the west, do not apply to many who were regarded as +the bettermost class of farmers, or rather gentlemen-farmers, as they all resided +on, and farmed their own estates. Many of this class were kept long enough at a grammar-school, +in Penzance, or elsewhere, to learn a little Latin and mathematics; at least they +acquired a sufficient knowledge of mensuration to enable them to measure their own +fields. Many of those gentlemen were so much given to the study of astrology that +they were regarded as conjurors by their domestics and more ignorant neighbours, who, +seeing the horoscopes and schemes in the gentlemen’s old books, believed these strange-looking +figures to be the secret signs of the means used for dealing with the invisible world, +or for commanding the spirits of light and darkness, over whom it was devoutly believed +that many skilful astrologers of the west had (by means of their books) perfect control. +Among the most noted adepts in this science, the best known were Parson Corker, of +Buryan; Mr. Jenkyn, of Trezidder, or Alverton; Dr. Maddron, of St. Just; Mr. Ustick, +of Morvah; and Mr. Matthew Williams, of Mayon. +</p> +<p>Some of the stories still related of this gentleman will serve as examples of the +light in which he, and others of his class, were regarded by the more ignorant:— +</p> +<p>One Sunday morning, whilst this gentleman was in Sennen church (which is only a few +minutes’ walk from his house) he felt very uncomfortable. Something told him that +all was not right at home. He left the church in the midst of the service, and ran +home just in time to find that his over-curious old housekeeper had taken one of the +conjuring-books out of the chest, the key of which he had missed and which she had +stolen that morning for the sake of satisfying her itching curiosity. When he entered +the room, he found her transfixed in her master’s arm-chair looking like death in +a fright, the book open before her in the place of some of the most powerful spells +for calling up the worst of evil spirits. The woman appeared like one in a fit, without +the power to speak or move, until her master came in the very nick of time to prevent +the spirits (that she had unwittingly summoned by reading the words, and tracing over +the signs in the book with her finger) from carrying her off bodily. Some of the spirits +became visible; <span class="pageNum" id="pb142">[<a href="#pb142">142</a>]</span>others lifted her, chair and all, off the floor when she stopped reading; and her +fright made her fall into a fit. Mr. Williams read and read till the sweat boiled +from his body, before he had the power to drive the evil spirits from the room, and +the old housekeeper had to undergo a severe penance before she could be free of all +danger from them. +</p> +<p>Another time it was found that the gentleman’s furze rick was diminishing much faster +than could be accounted for, for the consumption of fuel in his own house. He consulted +his books, and discovered by his art that some women from the Cove made a practice +of carrying away the furze every night. The very next night, after all honest folks +should be in their beds, an old woman of the Cove came as usual to the rick for a +burn of furze. She made one of no more than the usual size, which she tried to lift +on to her back, but found that she could not move it. Then she took out half the furze, +but was still unable to lift the faggot or so left in the rope. Becoming frightened, +she tried to get out the rope and run, but found that she had neither the power to +draw out the rope, nor move from the spot herself. Of course, the conjuror had put +a spell on her, and there she had to remain throughout the cold winter’s night, until +Mr. Williams came out and released her in the morning from the spell, and as she was +a very poor old soul let her have a burn of furze, but she took good care never to +come any more, nor any of the rest of the women, who soon found out how she had been +served. +</p> +<p>These puerile stories, and many more of the same class, often recounted about Mr. +Williams, and many other gentlemen comparatively well educated for those times, are +not without some significance, as they denote the power that in all times and places +may be acquired by the learned over the minds of the ignorant, through their fears +of the mystical and unknown. +</p> +<p>It has been said that Miss Dennis (the learned lady before spoken of) caught the disorder, +which was the cause of her slow but premature decease, by watching the courses of +the stars during cold winter’s nights, for the sake of making calculations. This lady +corresponded with many of the learned of her time. As these old astrologers had perfect +faith in the principles of their ancient science, Astrology with them was not such +mere imposition as it is generally supposed to have been. +</p> +</div> +</div> +<div id="ch49" class="div2 section"><span class="pageNum">[<a title="Go to the table of contents" href="#xd33e468">Contents</a>]</span><div class="divHead"> +<h3 class="main"><span class="sc">Conjurors and their Spells.</span></h3> +</div> +<div class="divBody"> +<p class="first">They were consulted, not only with regard to the fortunes of those whose exact time +of coming to light was known (the time of birth was then carefully registered, even +to a minute, to serve as data on which to construct the horoscope), but were relied +on for raising the spells of witchcraft, and often by their hints, advice, or <span class="pageNum" id="pb143">[<a href="#pb143">143</a>]</span>threats of exposure, procured the restoration of stolen property. They were generally +believed to have the same faculty of divination as is now assumed by the Pellar of +Redruth, who is making a fortune out of the credulity of people in our enlightened +times. +</p> +<p>We will now however leave them, and (by way of change) endeavour, after a few more +tales, to get back to town by the usual mode of travelling in the last century. +</p> +</div> +</div> +<div id="ch50" class="div2 section"><span class="pageNum">[<a title="Go to the table of contents" href="#xd33e474">Contents</a>]</span><div class="divHead"> +<h3 class="main"><span class="sc">Old Justice Jones and Cheap Labour.</span></h3> +</div> +<div class="divBody"> +<p class="first">As the notion of the transmigration of souls is not at all new to Cornish people, +you may imagine that, in some former state of existence, you lived out west about +the time that old Justice Jones resided in Penrose, and was long the unquestioned +tyrant of that part of the country. In complaisance with the good pleasure of the +justice, many old men in the parish, even farmers, did the work on his farms of Penrose +and Brew, for no other payment than his worthless promise that their sons should not +be impressed and sent off to serve the king on board a man-of-war. It seems that in +the time of this ancient edition of Colonel Peard, the magistrates were intrusted +with warrants which empowered them to draft off whomsoever they pleased for the king’s +service, and to gratify their ill-will they had only to intimate to the press-gang +that the disliked were eligible men. +</p> +</div> +</div> +<div id="ch51" class="div2 section"><span class="pageNum">[<a title="Go to the table of contents" href="#xd33e480">Contents</a>]</span><div class="divHead"> +<h3 class="main"><span class="sc">The Vingoes of Treville.—The Justice’s Punishment.</span></h3> +</div> +<div class="divBody"> +<p class="first">Old Jones’s usual mode of proceeding was to compel all the labouring class to go to +church every Sunday (in case of non-attendance these guardians of the law might also +fine or imprison.) The justice would be first to leave the church, and would remain +in the churchyard (where those who feared him were collected to learn his pleasure) +until he had intimated what work he wished to have done, and by whom, during the week. +When he wanted any extra hands during the week, as was often the case in harvest, +furze-carrying, and other times of work requiring quick despatch, he would hoist a +flag on a flag-staff which used to be placed in a large holed stone, which was perforated +for that purpose, and built into the top of the angle formed by the green court and +garden walls. It was a common saying that not to give anyone sufficient wages was +like old Jones’s payment, of a kick in the rear, which many, who neglected their own +harvest work to save the old justice’s corn, richly deserved. But he was not long +allowed to domineer over the poor folks of the west. Many of the old families belonging +to the parish, among whom the Vingoes, of Treville, were the most prominent, did all +they could to check his proceedings. <span class="pageNum" id="pb144">[<a href="#pb144">144</a>]</span>This ancient Norman family, who had held Treville ever since the Conquest, and had +been the wine-tasters to unknown Norman chiefs for equally unknown ages, regarded +old Jones, for all his riches, as nothing but an upstart stranger in the west; yet +they did not succeed in bringing the justice to act in a reasonable way until a smuggling +crew came to their aid. Most of the young men of the west country (many of them farmers’ +sons) belonged to this band, as well as two young men of Morvah—a Daniel and Ustick, +who were related to the Vingoes, and might be styled gentlemen. Their head-quarters +were at Priest’s Cove and Pendeen, as best suited their convenience. One fine day +in the harvest, when old Jones had summoned folks from all over the parish to save +his corn, the smugglers, taking the law into their own hands, marched down to Penrose +well-armed, took the old justice and his man (as big a rogue as himself) from the +house, hung them head downwards to a tree in the town-place, and gave them the bastinado +until they were within an inch of giving up the ghost; then made the old sinner give +them money to treat the men, and sent them off to pass a jovial day, “One and All,” +at the First and Last. Before the smugglers left, they told the justice that, if he +ever attempted to practice any of his old tricks again, they would come some fine +morning when he least expected, and take him off to his cousin Davy Jones’s locker, +and from this time he had such a wholesome fear of the smugglers that he seldom left +his den, nor any more interfered in the neighbourhood. +</p> +</div> +</div> +<div id="ch52" class="div2 section"><span class="pageNum">[<a title="Go to the table of contents" href="#xd33e486">Contents</a>]</span><div class="divHead"> +<h3 class="main"><span class="sc">Pellew and His Cornish Crew.</span></h3> +</div> +<div class="divBody"> +<p class="first">It was not to be thought of that any of the race of those who, a few years later, +made the press-gang afraid to show their noses in the west, would allow Justice Jones +to continue to act oppressively. It was about this time that upwards of four score +men from St. Just, and scores from other western parishes, volunteered to man the +Nymph, and went off in crowds to their Captain Pellew (whether he wanted them or no, +they wouldn’t leave his ship, unless some few of them were to go a privateering, when +he couldn’t tell what to do with all his Cornish crew.) But this is a matter of history, +that all know or ought to know: above all, how he would never suffer any of his Cornish +crew to be flogged, and, if old men’s tales are true, he allowed them such licence, +when not in action, as the martinets of the service would now think very irregular. +</p> +</div> +</div> +<div id="ch53" class="div2 section"><span class="pageNum">[<a title="Go to the table of contents" href="#xd33e492">Contents</a>]</span><div class="divHead"> +<h3 class="main"><span class="sc">The Ancient Games of Hurling and Wrestling.</span></h3> +</div> +<div class="divBody"> +<p class="first">We will now start for town in good earnest, as we don’t know what fine doings may +be going on there this week, besides the wrestling-match on the Western Green, where +the best gentlemen <span class="pageNum" id="pb145">[<a href="#pb145">145</a>]</span>in the land do not disdain to try a hitch with the poorest labouring man—not for the +value of the prize, but for the honour of proving their manliness. There is also to +be a grand hurling-match on the Eastern Green between Ludgvan hurlers<a class="noteRef" id="xd33e3284src" href="#xd33e3284" title="Go to note 4.">4</a> and any two other parishes who have a mind to accept the challenge. There we shall +see all the gentry from the eastward, who no more think themselves degraded by joining +the commontry, in the ancient manly game, than a real old squire’s lady would think +it unbecoming to ply the spinning-wheel in the ancient hall, surrounded by her maidens +at the same work. So now we bid good morrow to the hearty old folks of the Land’s +End, and hope we shall have a pleasant journey to Penzance. +</p> +</div> +</div> +<div id="ch54" class="div2 section"><span class="pageNum">[<a title="Go to the table of contents" href="#xd33e498">Contents</a>]</span><div class="divHead"> +<h3 class="main"><span class="sc">Old Methods of Conveyance.</span></h3> +<h3 class="main"><span class="sc">Riding Pillion.</span></h3> +<h3 id="ch55" class="main"><span class="sc">Popular Songs of the Times, Marlbrook, and Sentimental Ditties.</span></h3> +</div> +<div class="divBody"> +<p class="first">No people in the West Country had ever yet dreamed of such things as gigs, or any +other wheel conveyance to take them to fair or market: so we must either go on foot, +or jog into town on horseback. If your horse will carry double, you may be honoured +with the company of a lady on a pillion behind you. If possible, decline the favour, +unless the lass is young and fair; for to take one who wishes to pass for a maiden +lady of a certain age is often as great a punishment as was ever invented in Purgatory, +for the time. But if you cannot decently <span class="corr" id="xd33e3299" title="Source: gid">get</span> rid of Miss Priscilla, or Aunt Jenefer, pray the Lord grant you an extra dose of +patience. +</p> +<p>First, before mounting Dobbin, you must have a handkerchief fastened round your middle +for her to grasp with her long bony fins, because she does not think it decorous forsooth +to put her arm round your waist and hug you comfortably, like a less-affected girl +might, to steady herself on a rough road: with such a one we can jog along as happy +as Darby and Joan. Fasten the handkerchief with a bow-knot, and if Priscilla gets +too tormenting you can slip the knot and let her tumble off in going up hill. +</p> +<p>As soon as Dobbin begins to trot she will be working her bony knuckles into your ribs: +when she wants to take snuff or perform any other never-ending fidgety movements, +the arm will be slipped inside the nackan, as far as her bony sharp elbow, which will +be bored into the small of your back like a spit. +<span class="pageNum" id="pb146">[<a href="#pb146">146</a>]</span></p> +<p>The lanes, in many places, are more like rocky water-courses than roads, and so narrow +that a horse and panniers can scarcely pass between the high furzy hedges, and so +uneven that one must be constantly on the look out to keep the nag from stumbling. +However, you will be kept pretty straight and steady, with the dame pulling on the +handkerchief behind, and the hard-mouthed horse dragging on the bridle in front (to +get his head the nearer the ground, the better to see where he may tumble down without +cutting his knees), till the girths give away. Dobbin gives a grunt, and down you +tumble, heels over head, in going down some such rocky lane as that which crossed +Trelew hill a short time ago. Ten to one but in the tumble you will be under. There +is not the least danger of the lady being hurt, because with the protection of her +cork-rump and the long stays of leather and steel, wood and whalebone, in which she +is encased, the old girl is as safe from harm as a lobster in its shell, or a warrior +in his coat of mail. +</p> +<p>Her first concern will be to see if the cordial bottle of brandy-and-cloves is safe +and sound among all the things in her knapsack of a pocket; then, if her pattens or +clogs are fast and firm to the bow of her pillion. +</p> +<p>The horse has long kicked himself clear of all the trappings, and galloped off toward +home: yet take it easy, sit ye down and drain the bottle until you have sucked out +the last drop. But hearken! There is a regular drove of market-women, you may know +by their clatter, coming down the hill. Get up quick do, and shake yourselves straight, +before they arrive, for you don’t know what a story the old dames will make of it +before they leave the butter-market; above all, they delight to overhaul such a precise +piece of prudery as Miss Priscilla, who, by pretending to be shocked into “high strikes” +at what are most innocent things to the simple, shows as plain as a pike-staff that +something bad is always uppermost in her thoughts. +</p> +<p>The runaway horse is caught and brought back, by some of the market folks; the girths +mended with a piece of rope-yarn; and from the rock at the bottom of the hill you +mount again. The worst of the road being passed, you will get on like fighting cocks, +and tune your pipes for the new song of +</p> +<div class="lgouter"> +<p class="line">“Moll Brooks<a class="noteRef" id="xd33e3313src" href="#xd33e3313" title="Go to note 5.">5</a> is gone to the wars. +</p> +<p class="line">Vezy vazzy vumfra. +</p> +<p class="line">She will never return no more. +</p> +<p class="line">Ran tan tore, ran tan tore.<span class="corr" id="xd33e3361" title="Not in source">”</span></p> +</div> +<p><span class="pageNum" id="pb147a">[<a href="#pb147a">147</a>]</span></p> +<p class="first">The tender Priscilla will treat you to some such touching ballad as— +</p> +<div class="lgouter"> +<p class="line">“Cold blows the wind to-day, sweetheart; +</p> +<p class="line">Cold are the drops of rain; +</p> +<p class="line">The first true love that ever I had, +</p> +<p class="line">In the green wood he was slain,” &c., &c.</p> +</div> +<p><span class="pageNum" id="pb148">[<a href="#pb148">148</a>]</span></p> +<p class="first">If that does not bring the briny tears, she will try another doleful sentimental ditty +that was very fashionable in her time— +</p> +<div class="lgouter"> +<p class="line">“I have been bad, since you have been gone; +</p> +<p class="line">Tweedle, tweedle, go twee; +</p> +<p class="line">If you had been out in the garden green, +</p> +<p class="line">You would have heard the great moans +</p> +<p class="line">Of me, of me, of me, of me.”</p> +</div> +<p class="first">Then you may both join in singing the innocent old song of— +</p> +<div class="lgouter"> +<p class="line">“There did a frog live in a well, +</p> +<p class="line">Close by a merry mouse in a mill. +</p> +<p class="line">To my rigdom bomenary kimey. +</p> +<p class="line">Kimé naré gildé caré, +</p> +<p class="line">Kimé naré caré,” &c., &c.</p> +</div> +<p class="first">By the time you have got throughout this you will have arrived in town, and be safely +landed at the “Duke of Cumberland” public-house, which is one of the oldest, and was +one of the most respectable, hostels in Penzance. +</p> +</div> +</div> +<div id="ch56" class="div2 section"><span class="pageNum">[<a title="Go to the table of contents" href="#xd33e511">Contents</a>]</span><div class="divHead"> +<h3 class="main"><span class="sc">Green Lanes and Footpaths.</span></h3> +</div> +<div class="divBody"> +<p class="first">Those who walked to town always found near the narrow lanes a pleasant foot-path, +which often cut off the corners and shortened the route. In other places, where the +road passed between the lands, which formerly belonged to different proprietors, or +when the adjoining land was enclosed for different farms, broad pieces of ground were +left by ancient proprietors for the purpose of the king’s highway, that, when one +horse-track was worn impracticable, others might be found in better condition, at +the same time affording plenty of pleasant greensward for the foot-passenger and poor +man’s cow. Almost all these broad green lanes have now been stolen from the public, +by the greedy proprietors of adjoining farms, who had no more right than you or I +to the ground which was open to the Queen’s highway. A few years ago, many such pleasant +green glades might be found in the road from Penzance to Hayle; as, for example, where +Canon’s town now stands was one of those old broad highways which belonged to the +public, and which the public should have kept, as well as many other strips of greensward, +that the weary, worn, and footsore traveller might find some verdant spot whereon +to repose his feet and eyes. +</p> +<p>These old green lanes were altogether distinct from the commons through which a highway +might pass. There are some portions,—few and far between,—yet remaining of these old +highways, to which the foot passenger turns with pleasure, to get out of the way of +the wheels and dust. +</p> +</div> +</div> +<div id="ch57" class="div2 section"><span class="pageNum">[<a title="Go to the table of contents" href="#xd33e517">Contents</a>]</span><div class="divHead"> +<h3 class="main"><span class="sc">Packsaddles, Ox-Butts, and the First Carriage.</span></h3> +</div> +<div class="divBody"> +<p class="first">About four score years ago, there was no wheel-carriage for the high-road West of +Trereife. On some of the farms, there were <span class="pageNum" id="pb149">[<a href="#pb149">149</a>]</span>werries, with three solid wheels (druchars.) These things, between wheel-barrow and +cart, were used for bringing home the turf from the moors, taking out manure on level +ground, &c. Corn, hay and furze were carried in trusses on horse-back; but horses, +furnished with pack-saddles, dung-pots, or crooks, were then generally used for conveying +almost everything we now see on some sort of wheel-carriage. Ox-butts and wains were +in use long before carts became common. One end of the axle was fast in the wheel, +and the axle was made to work in gudgeons under the butt or wain. For building the +many large mansions about in the West, the timber had to be dogged from Market-jew, +or floated to some of the Coves near the building site. Slate, lime, laths, &c., were +all borne on the poor horses’ backs. +</p> +<p>I have often heard that the first coach, or chariot, as the old Noah’s arks on slings +or springs were called, was the old machine still at Trewinnard, which was constructed +to take out the old Hawkins’ in great state, if not in a state of comfort. The Hawkins’ +lived in such grand style at the time their chariot was set up (so that everything +might be in keeping with the grandeur of their land-ship) that they very much impoverished +themselves, and their descendants were consequently obliged to live with such economy +as appeared mean for persons of their rank, which gave rise to the lines about Trewinnard:— +</p> +<div class="lgouter"> +<p class="line">“Here is a grand hall, and no cheer; +</p> +<p class="line">A great cellar, and no beer; +</p> +<p class="line">A great park, and no deer; +</p> +<p class="line">And Sir Christopher Hawkins lives here.”</p> +</div> +<p class="first">When the ladies and gentlemen of Trewinnard drove out in their chariot, accompanied +by a cavalcade of belles and beaux, with hawk and hound, they must have thought themselves +as grand and glorious as the Queen of Sheba and King Solomon, till stuck fast in a +hole, or jolted out in the mud, when the half-a-dozen or more men by whom they were +attended, with poles and ropes, picks, spades, and led horses, contrived to set them +in motion again, at about the rate of three miles an hour, at least where the roads +were the best. +</p> +</div> +</div> +<div id="ch58" class="div2 section"><span class="pageNum">[<a title="Go to the table of contents" href="#xd33e523">Contents</a>]</span><div class="divHead"> +<h3 class="main"><span class="sc">Going to Town on Market Day.</span></h3> +</div> +<div class="divBody"> +<p class="first">Many farmers’ wives and daughters would now think it too fatiguing to ride on horseback +ten miles or more with the marketing in all sorts of weather. Yet I remember that +the inconvenience was little felt half a century ago; on the contrary, old and young +looked with pleasure for the market-day to come round—the young folks especially, +large parties of whom would always contrive to meet together in rain or shine, and +race along the lanes to the tune of “the devil take the hindmost,” often jumping over +hedges and <span class="pageNum" id="pb150">[<a href="#pb150">150</a>]</span>ditches, to try the springing qualities of their horses, or galloping off to fair, +“three on a horse,” as is still proverbial for Morvah fair. +</p> +<p>Then old folks would often stop to have a chat with people working in the fields, +or with the smiling women looking out of the open doors of their wayside cottages +for the accustomed gossip of the market-day, when they hail their cronies with something +like “Alight, and come in, my dear; how glad I am to see <span class="corr" id="xd33e3417" title="Source: é">’e</span> looking so well. Fasten your horse to the crook in the wall close by the heaping-stock, +and we will soon have something warm to drink.” Then they would soon have a merry +chat, and often coursey for an hour or two. The dear old souls were never in such +a violent hurry as we all seem to be in now: they didn’t care whether they had to +return by daylight or dark night. +</p> +<p>Many used to go to Penzance every Thursday more for the sake of hearing the news than +on any business of importance. Besides, it was a welcome relief from the wearying +monotonous life at the Land’s End and other remote, lonely places. +</p> +<p>It seems to me that the market was more like a fair then, from the crowd of people +in the street, than the fair is like a market now. Perhaps it is only a fancy; or +the reason of the more crowded appearance of the streets might be owing to the various +markets being more concentrated fifty years ago. So many alterations and improvements +have taken place during the last half century that there are scarcely any indications +remaining to show what Penzance was in the days of our grandfathers. +</p> +</div> +</div> +<div id="ch59" class="div2 section"><span class="pageNum">[<a title="Go to the table of contents" href="#xd33e529">Contents</a>]</span><div class="divHead"> +<h3 class="main"><span class="sc">Penzance in the Early Part of this Century, &c.</span></h3> +</div> +<div class="divBody"> +<p class="first">Yet, fortunately, Dr. Davy has given us a graphic description of the town and country +as it existed about the year 1780. “Cornwall,” the doctor observes, “was then without +roads. Those which traversed the country were rather bridle-paths than carriage roads; +carriages were almost unknown, and even carts were very little used. I have heard +my mother relate that when she was a girl there was only one cart in the town of Penzance, +and, if a carriage occasionally appeared in the streets, it attracted universal attention. +Pack-horses were then in general use for conveying merchandise, and the prevailing +manner of travelling was on horseback at that period, the luxuries of furniture and +living now enjoyed by people of the middle class were confined almost entirely to +the great and wealthy, and in Penzance, where the population was about two thousand +persons, there was only one carpet. The floors of the rooms were sprinkled over with +sea-sand, and there was not a single silver fork. The only newspaper which then circulated +in the West of England was the ‘Sherbourne Mercury,’ and it was carried through the +country, <span class="pageNum" id="pb151">[<a href="#pb151">151</a>]</span>not by the post but by a man on horseback specially employed in distributing it. In +the year 1761, the turnpike road only reached as far as Falmouth. At that period the +Land’s End district must have been a sort of unknown land.” +</p> +</div> +</div> +<div id="ch60" class="div2 last-child section"><span class="pageNum">[<a title="Go to the table of contents" href="#xd33e535">Contents</a>]</span><div class="divHead"> +<h3 class="main"><span class="sc">An Old-Fashioned Greeting.</span></h3> +</div> +<div class="divBody"> +<p class="first"><span class="sc">We leave it for those, better qualified for the Task, to describe how the Arduous +Labour of Years, in endeavouring to obtain Public Buildings worthy of the town has +progressed until, crowned with the Success</span> WHICH WE UNITE IN CELEBRATING <span class="sc">to-day with Joy and Gratitude; only hoping that the Sun may be as bright and cheering +as the open countenance of our Indefatigable Chief Magistrate, that</span> THE GLADSOME SOUNDS OF TRUMPET, BUGLE, FIFE, AND DRUM MAY PENETRATE THE GLOOMY HAUNTS +OF ALL THE SOUR AND SULLEN, MAKING THEM LEAVE THEIR MOPING MELANCHOLY, AND HEARTILY +UNITE, “ONE AND ALL,” LIKE TRUE CORNISH PEOPLE, IN SHOWING THAT THEY PARTICIPATE IN +THE GENERAL SATISFACTION NOW FELT, AND SOUGHT TO BE EXPRESSED IN THE MOST PLEASING +MODE THAT AT LAST THE NOBLE BUILDING HAS BEEN RAISED. LONG MAY IT GATHER WITHIN ITS +WALLS A HEALTHY, UNITED, AND PROSPEROUS PEOPLE. +</p> +<p></p> +<div class="figure p151width"><img src="images/p151.png" alt="Coat of arms of Cornwall: black shield with 15 yellow discs arranged in a triangle pointing downwards." width="105" height="101"></div><p> +<span class="pageNum" id="pb152">[<a href="#pb152">152</a>]</span></p> +</div> +</div> +</div> +<div class="footnotes"> +<hr class="fnsep"> +<div class="footnote-body"> +<div class="fndiv" id="xd33e3121"> +<p class="footnote"><span class="fnlabel"><a class="noteRef" href="#xd33e3121src" title="Return to note 1 in text.">1</a></span> Before this old building was demolished, a few months since, it was photographed by +Mr. R. H. Preston. <a class="fnarrow" href="#xd33e3121src" title="Return to note 1 in text.">↑</a></p> +</div> +<div class="fndiv" id="xd33e3217"> +<p class="footnote"><span class="fnlabel"><a class="noteRef" href="#xd33e3217src" title="Return to note 2 in text.">2</a></span> Wednesday in Feasten week. <a class="fnarrow" href="#xd33e3217src" title="Return to note 2 in text.">↑</a></p> +</div> +<div class="fndiv" id="xd33e3220"> +<p class="footnote"><span class="fnlabel"><a class="noteRef" href="#xd33e3220src" title="Return to note 3 in text.">3</a></span> Dogs with old tin pans, or the like, tied to their tails. <a class="fnarrow" href="#xd33e3220src" title="Return to note 3 in text.">↑</a></p> +</div> +<div class="fndiv" id="xd33e3284"> +<p class="footnote"><span class="fnlabel"><a class="noteRef" href="#xd33e3284src" title="Return to note 4 in text.">4</a></span> A century or so ago, the people of Ludgvan were so much celebrated for their dexterity +in throwing and catching the silver ball, that they were known far and near as the +Ludgvan hurlers, and still hold in remembrance their ancient renown by retaining it +to this day as a nickname. Formerly, they were as proud of this name as of their holy +well, and of the tradition they firmly believe—that none who have been baptized in +its waters ever have been, or ever will be, hanged. <a class="fnarrow" href="#xd33e3284src" title="Return to note 4 in text.">↑</a></p> +</div> +<div class="fndiv" id="xd33e3313"> +<p class="footnote"><span class="fnlabel"><a class="noteRef" href="#xd33e3313src" title="Return to note 5 in text.">5</a></span> “Malbrook is gone to the wars.” This once popular ditty was a version of the celebrated +French song of +</p> +<div class="q"> +<div class="nestedtext"> +<div class="nestedbody"> +<div lang="fr" class="lgouter footnote"> +<p class="line">“Malbrough s’en va-t-en guerre, +</p> +<p class="line">Mironton, mironton, mirontaine,”</p> +</div> +</div> +</div> +</div><p> +</p> +<p class="footnote cont">which was composed after the battle of Malplaquet in 1709, by some French officers; +<span class="pageNum" id="pb147">[<a href="#pb147">147</a>]</span>who, after being defeated by the Duke of Marlborough, consoled themselves by making +the facetious song in which they imagined +</p> +<div class="q"> +<div class="nestedtext"> +<div class="nestedbody"> +<div class="lgouter footnote"> +<p class="line">“Monsieur Malbrough is dead.— +</p> +<p class="line">What’s more—he’s buri-ed,”</p> +</div> +</div> +</div> +</div><p> +</p> +<p class="footnote cont">many years before he gave up the ghost and ceased to be the object of the soldier’s +admiration and terror. +</p> +<p class="footnote cont">The name of Marlborough having been first corrupted by the French into Malbrough, +was further changed by the English into Malbrook. Only a few years since the old song +was republished in Paris, in the collection of “<span lang="fr">Chansons Populaires</span>,” under the title of “<span lang="fr">Mort et convoi de l’invincible Malbrough</span>.” From the translation of an amusing essay, which precedes the song in this collection, +we quote the following. Speaking of Marlborough, the writer says, “Not being able +to conquer, the enemy lampooned him, and each of his victories was followed by a new +satirical song; such verses being in France then, as in the good times of Cardinal +Mazarin, the people’s most ordinary means of taking their revenge.” +</p> +<p class="footnote cont">The song was preserved only by tradition in some of the provinces, where it had been +probably left by the soldiers of Villars and de Bufflers; but in 1781 it resounded, +all of a sudden, from one end of the kingdom to the other. It happened that when Marie +Antoinette gave to the throne of France an heir, he was nursed by a peasant named +(probably nicknamed) Madame Poitrine, who had been chosen, among other qualifications, +for her healthy appearance, and good humour. The nurse, while rocking the royal cradle, +sung Malbrough, and the dauphin, it is said, opened his eyes at the name of the great +general. The name, the simplicity of the words, singularity of the burthen, and the +touching melodiousness of the air, interested the queen, and she frequently sang it. +Everybody repeated it after her, and even the king condescended to quaver out the +words, “<span lang="fr">Malbrough s’en va-t-en guerre</span>.” Malbrough was sung in the state apartments of Versailles; in the kitchens; in the +stables; it became quite the rage: from the Court it was adopted by the tradespeople +of Paris, and passed thence from town to town, and country to country; it was wafted +across to England, where it soon became as popular as in France. It is said that a +French gentleman, wishing, when in London, to be driven to Marlborough Street, had +totally forgotten its name, but, on singing the air of Malbrough, the coachman understood +him immediately, and drove him to the proper address with no other direction. +</p> +<p class="footnote cont">Goethe, who travelled in France about the same time, was so teased with the universal +concert of Malbrough, that he took a hatred to the duke, who was the innocent cause +of the musical epidemic. Malbrough made itself heard, without ceasing. Apropos of +everything, and apropos of nothing, it gave its name to the fashions, to silks, head-dresses, +carriages, and soups—was reproduced, in short, in all manner of ways and forms, and, +nothing short of the Revolution, the fall of the Bastile, and the Marsellaise hymn, +were sufficient to smother the sounds of that hitherto never ceasing song. The warlike +and melancholy air of the song did not, any more than its hero, originate in France, +and we have sought in vain to trace its history back from the time when Napoleon—in +spite of his general antipathy to music—roared it out whenever he got into his saddle +to start on a fresh campaign. We are not unwilling to believe, with M. de Chateaubriand, +that it was the same air which the crusaders of Godefroid de Bouillion sang under +the walls of Jerusalem. The Arabs still sing it, and pretend that their ancestors +learned it at the battle of Massoura, or else from the brothers-in-arms of De Joinville, +who repeated it to the clashing of bucklers while pressing forward to the cry of +</p> +<div class="q"> +<div class="nestedtext"> +<div class="nestedbody"> +<div class="lgouter footnote"> +<p class="line">“Mountjoy, Saint Denis!”</p> +</div> +</div> +</div> +</div><p></p> +</div> +</div> +</div> +</div> +<div id="ch61" class="div1 chapter"><span class="pageNum">[<a title="Go to the table of contents" href="#xd33e542">Contents</a>]</span><div class="divHead"> +<h2 class="main">THE GHOSTS OF CHAPEL-STREET AND<br> +<span class="sc">St.</span> MARY’S CHAPEL-YARD.</h2> +</div> +<div class="divBody"> +<p class="first">Little more than fifty years ago, the building in Chapel street, which now (1867) +serves as a dispensary, with the adjoining house at the entrance to Vounderveor-lane, +formed a mansion which belonged to, and was occupied by an elderly lady, Mrs. Baines. +At that time there was, in the rear of this mansion, a large garden, or rather orchard +and garden, extending westward nearly to New-road, and bounded on the south by Vounderveor. +The south side of the lane was an open field, and at its west end there were no dwellings. +</p> +<p>Where the School of Art, the Methodist vestries, and other houses stand, was all known +as Mrs. Baines’s orchard. This pleasant spot, in which the lady took great delight, +was stocked with the choicest apple, pear, plum, and other fruit trees then known. +The town boys soon found out the fine flavour of Mrs. Baines’s fruit, which was to +them all the sweeter for being stolen. When the apples were ripe and most tempting, +the mistress and her serving-man watched the garden by turns—the man during the first +part of the night, and madam would descend in her night-dress, every now and then, +to see that all was right, in the small hours of morning. +</p> +<p>One night Mrs. Baines, suspecting that man John was rather careless in keeping guard, +sallied forth to see if he was attending to his duty; and, not finding him anywhere +about the garden, she went to a tree of highly-prized apples and shook down a good +quantity, intending to take them away, and thus prove to John that, through his remissness, +the fruit was stolen. But her man Jan, armed with an old blunderbus, charged with +peas and small shot, was at no great distance dozing under a hedge. The rustling of +shaken branches, and noise of falling apples, awoke him, and, seeing somebody, as +he thought, stealing apples from their favourite tree, he up with his gun and let +fly at his mistress, exclaiming, at the same time, “Now you thief, I’ve paid ’e off +for keeping me out of bed to watch ’e! I know ’e, I do, and will bring ’e before his +worship the mayor to-morrow!” “Lord help me, I’m killed!” cried the lady, as she fell +on the ground. Jan stayed to see no more, but, frightened out of his wits, ran away +and couldn’t be found for several days. At last he was discovered up in Castle-an-dinas, +<span class="pageNum" id="pb153">[<a href="#pb153">153</a>]</span>half starved. By good luck the old lady’s back was towards her man when he fired, +and the greatest portion of the charge took effect below her waist. Doctor Giddy was +fetched, and, after some delicate surgical operations, which the lady bore with exemplary +patience, pronounced her fright to be more than the hurt. +</p> +<p>However, a short time after the old lady got shot, she died; and then she kept such +ward and watch over her orchard that few were so bold as to enter, after day-down, +into the haunted ground, where the ghost of Mrs. Baines was often seen under the tree +where she was shot, or walking the grounds of her garden. Everybody knew the old lady +by her upturned and powdered grey hair under a lace cap of antique pattern; by the +long lace ruffles hanging from her elbows; her short silk mantle, gold-headed cane, +and other trappings of old-fashioned pomp. +</p> +<p>There are many still living in Penzance who remember the time when they wouldn’t venture +on any account to pass through Vounderveor-lane after night-fall, for fear of Mrs. +Baines’ ghost. Sometimes she would flutter up from the garden or yard (just like an +old hen flying before the wind), and perch herself on the wall: then, for an instant, +one might get a glance of her spindle legs and high-heeled shoes before she vanished. +</p> +<p>Her walking in the garden might have been put up with, but she soon haunted all parts +of the premises, and was often seen where least expected both by night and at noon. +The ghost became so troublesome, at last, that no person could be found to occupy +the house, where she was all night long tramping about from room to room, slamming +the doors, rattling the furniture, and often making a fearful crash amongst glass +and crockery. Even when there was no living occupant in the house, persons, standing +in Chapel street, often saw through the windows a shadowy form and lights glimmering +in the parlours and bed-rooms. +</p> +<p>The proprietors, driven to their wits’ end, unwilling that such valuable property +should become worse than useless, all through the freaks of this vexatious ghost, +at last sent for a parson, who was much famed in this neighbourhood as an exorcist +(we think the name of this reverend ghost-layer was Singleton), that he might remove +and lay the unresting spirit; and he succeeded (by what means our informant knoweth +not) in getting her away down to the sand-banks on the Western Green, which were then +spread over many acres of land where the waves now roll. Here, this powerful parson, +single-handed, bound her to spin from the banks ropes of sand for the term of a thousand +years, unless she, before that time, spun a sufficiently long and strong one to reach +from St. Michael’s Mount to St. Clement’s Isle. The encroaching sea having swept away +the sandbanks, Mrs. Baines’ ghost is probably <span class="pageNum" id="pb154">[<a href="#pb154">154</a>]</span>gone with them, as she hasn’t been heard of for some years, and, if she returns, the +present occupiers of the old abode wouldn’t mind her. +</p> +<p>About the time that Mrs. Baines’s ghost carried on its freaks in the mansion, an open +pathway passed through St. Mary’s chapel-yard, which was then often crossed, as it +shortened the distance to the Quay; but, for a long time, few persons liked to pass +through the burial-ground by night, because a ghostly apparition, arrayed in white, +was often seen wandering amongst the tombs, from which doleful sounds were frequently +heard. Sometimes the fearful figure was also met on the path or seen in the chapel +porch. One dark and rainy night, however, a sailor, who neither knew nor cared anything +about the ghost of St. Mary’s, in taking the short cut through the chapel-yard, came +as far as the chapel-porch, when the ghost issued forth on the path and there stood, +bobbing its head and waving its shroudings before him. +</p> +<p>“Halloa! Who or what are you?” said the sailor. +</p> +<p>“I am one of the dead!” the ghost answered. +</p> +<p>“If you are one of the dead, what the deuce do you do here above ground? go along +down below!” said the sailor, as he lifted his fist and dealt the ghost a stunning +blow over its head, which laid it sprawling on the stones, where it remained some +time, unable to rise or descend, until a person passing by assisted it to get on its +legs, and discovered that a frolicksome gentleman, called Captain Carthew, who then +lived in the house which is now Mrs. Davy’s property, had long been diverting himself +and frightening the towns’-folk out of their wits by personating the ghost, which +was most effectually laid by Jack Tar, and served out for its tricks on the timid +and credulous. +</p> +<p></p> +<div class="figure p154width"><img src="images/p154.png" alt="Two piskies riding snails." width="181" height="164"></div><p> +<span class="pageNum" id="pb155">[<a href="#pb155">155</a>]</span></p> +</div> +</div> +<div id="ch62" class="div1 chapter"><span class="pageNum">[<a title="Go to the table of contents" href="#xd33e548">Contents</a>]</span><div class="divHead"> +<h2 class="main">LOCAL NICKNAMES.</h2> +<div class="argument"> +<p class="first">CAMBORNE MERRY-GEEKS AND MARKET-JEW CROWS.—LUDGVAN HURLERS AND GULVAL BULLS.—MOUSHAL +CUT-THROATS AND NEWLYN BUCKAS.—SANCRAS PIGS AND BURYAN BOARS.—ST. LEVAN WITCHES AND +SENNEN ——.—SANTUST FUGGANS AND MORVAH CHICK-CHACKS.—NANCLEDREA RATS AND ZENNOR GOATS.—TOWEDNACK +CUCKOOS AND ST. IVES HAKES.</p> +</div> +</div> +<div class="divBody"> +<p class="first">The inhabitants of almost all West-country parishes and of several villages are known +by nicknames peculiar to them as natives of the respective places. The origin of these +names is for the most part forgotten. A few, however, may be accounted for. +</p> +<div id="ch63" class="div2 section"><span class="pageNum">[<a title="Go to the table of contents" href="#xd33e554">Contents</a>]</span><div class="divHead"> +<h3 class="main"><span class="sc">Camborne Merry-geeks and Market-jew Crows.</span></h3> +</div> +<div class="divBody"> +<p class="first">Camborne people are now frequently called “Merry-geeks.” +</p> +<p>This modernized name conveys the idea that Camborne boys are much inclined to frolicsome +fooling. Some old folks, however, still call them Merry-sicks or Merry-sickers. No +doubt they acquired their nickname from their patron, St. Meriasek, who, according +to his legend, as given in the old Cornish Mystery-play, was one of the most noted +wonder-workers in this land of saints. +</p> +<p>Camborne folks, of three centuries or so ago, must have highly appreciated this rare +old “Guary Miracle” of St. Meriasek, if only for the way in which they are lauded +in it. Redruth Plan-an-Guary must have rung with applause when it was performed there +during Queen Elizabeth’s reign, and probably much later. +</p> +<p>With regard to Marazion people’s appellation of “Crows,” it is said that, until a +little while ago, a remarkable variety of party-coloured crows frequented this ancient +town and its neighbourhood from very remote times. The saying of “All black and white, +like a Market-jew crow,” is still frequently heard; as well as that of “Like the Mayor +of Market-jew, sitting in his own light.” +</p> +</div> +</div> +<div id="ch64" class="div2 section"><span class="pageNum">[<a title="Go to the table of contents" href="#xd33e560">Contents</a>]</span><div class="divHead"> +<h3 class="main"><span class="sc">Ludgvan Hurlers and Gulval Bulls.</span></h3> +</div> +<div class="divBody"> +<p class="first">Ludgvan folks got the name of “Hurlers,” because they were wont to beat all-comers +at their favourite game of hurling. They are still proud of their name. +</p> +<p>Gulval people obtained their nickname of “Bulls” long ago when they had a custom of +bringing their young bulls (mostly yearlings) together to fight. The cattle were always +matched <span class="pageNum" id="pb156">[<a href="#pb156">156</a>]</span>according to their ages. Often heavy bets were staked on the extent and result of +their prowess, and the strongest was preferred as a sire for the future herd. Strength +was then more desirable than now, since most of the team-labour on the land was done +by oxen, and it was desirable that they should be tough and muscular. Feasten Monday +was the usual time for this bovine trial of strength. +</p> +</div> +</div> +<div id="ch65" class="div2 section"><span class="pageNum">[<a title="Go to the table of contents" href="#xd33e566">Contents</a>]</span><div class="divHead"> +<h3 class="main"><span class="sc">Moushal Cut-throats and Newlyn Buckas.</span></h3> +</div> +<div class="divBody"> +<p class="first">We will now follow the sun’s course, for good luck, and pass over the Bay to Moushal +and its “Cut-throats.” +</p> +<p>Shortly after the Spaniards burnt this old town, many young men of Paul and the adjacent +parishes—eager to retaliate on the Dons—went privateering. Some of them joined the +Jamaica buccaneers, a few turned pirates, and all of them scoured the Spanish Main. +One and all of the West Country men hailed from Moushal, which was then a noted place, +and the chief port west of Market-jew. +</p> +<p>When the adventurous rovers returned home, laden with gold and treasures, envious +land-lubbers, out of spite, dubbed them “Moushal’s Cut-throats.” Old folks used to +say that, a century or so ago, the head proprietors of Paul and some of Buryan were +the descendants of Buccaneers and “Madagascar Birds.” Those old families are, for +the most part, become extinct in this neighbourhood, though two or three of them are +flourishing elsewhere. +</p> +<p>Our old privateering stories always speak of Moushal as the general rendezvous of +western sea-rovers; thus this bad-sounding nickname was acquired +</p> +<div class="lgouter"> +<p class="line">“In the days we went a pirating, +</p> +<p class="line xd33e3048">A long time ago.”</p> +</div> +<p class="first">One needs go no farther than Moushal to learn how Newlyn people got the name of “Buccas.” +What old folks say is to the effect that the fishermen of that place (within the remembrance +of persons yet alive) were accustomed, on their return to shore, to make a propitiatory +offering to a spirit (Bucca) by placing for him a fish, just within high-water mark, +in order that the spirit might ensure them good luck in their fishing. It was believed +that Bucca came at night and took away the fish. Those who continued to observe this +remnant of an old religious rite were derided by their more “enlightened” neighbours +of recent times, and by them nicknamed “Buccas.” +</p> +</div> +</div> +<div id="ch66" class="div2 section"><span class="pageNum">[<a title="Go to the table of contents" href="#xd33e573">Contents</a>]</span><div class="divHead"> +<h3 class="main"><span class="sc">Sancras Pigs and Buryan Boars.</span></h3> +</div> +<div class="divBody"> +<p class="first">Old folks say that the inhabitants of Sancreed were called “Sancras Pigs” because, +formerly, pork from that inland parish was preferred to what was raised elsewhere +in this neighbourhood. +</p> +<p>All the other parishes west of Hayle have some part of their <span class="pageNum" id="pb157">[<a href="#pb157">157</a>]</span>boundaries on the seaboard: consequently, from the abundance of fish and the want +of any but the home market for it, until recently, much good fish was cast on manure +heaps, in places near fishing-coves; and the great, long-sided, razor-backed swine, +then foraging at their pleasure in lanes and hamlets, ate so much fishery offal that +it communicated a bad flavour and worse smell to their meat. Much pork was then sold +to the “jousters” (retailers from the eastward) as “Sancras Pigs” that never saw Sancras +parish; and the natives of that favoured place might be heard all over the Market-house +calling out, “Come ’e here, my dears, look at this, ah es a Sancras pig, born and +reared; see the fat ov en es as white as a crud (curd); no fear ov en beean trainey, +like Paul and Sennen-cove trade, that have lived upon fish all their time.” +</p> +<p>At length these inlanders’ brag procured them the nickname of “Sancras Pigs,” which +they still retain. +</p> +<p>We must pass over Buryan, for there seems to be no satisfactory account as to how +the swinish nickname bestowed on the natives of that important parish originated. +</p> +</div> +</div> +<div id="ch67" class="div2 section"><span class="pageNum">[<a title="Go to the table of contents" href="#xd33e579">Contents</a>]</span><div class="divHead"> +<h3 class="main"><span class="sc">St. Levan Witches and Sennen ——.</span></h3> +</div> +<div class="divBody"> +<p class="first">St. Levan people are said to have acquired their remarkable name of St. Levan Witches +from the belief—once general—that the inhabitants of that remote parish were, in days +of yore, much addicted to the practice of necromancy, particularly witchcraft. Old +folks held that all the West Country witches used to meet and hold their revels in +Castle Trereen; until they mounted to the Castle Peak, and, bestriding their brooms +or ragwort stalk, thence took their departure for Wales, Brittany, and even to Spain. +Most nights, however, they merely went over and got a good “blow out” (feast) on the +milk of Taffy’s cows. At times, too, Tol-pedn-penwith was their place of assembly, +whence they started to wreck ships and perform other deviltry. +</p> +<p>If old traditions may be relied on, the unseemly nickname of Sennen —— originated +in a somewhat remarkable way. They say that it was given long ago, owing to the Danish +blood inherited by a few families who lived on the shore of Whitsand Bay. +</p> +<p>Many Land’s End folks have still a strong antipathy to what they regard as marks of +descent from northern pirates, who ravaged the West more than a thousand years ago. +</p> +<p>Here, in old times, Scandinavians generally seem to have been called Danes; and from +the prevalence, in some families of this parish, of the fiery-hued hair ascribed to +those northern marauders, the inference is obvious, and the vulgar nickname accounted +for which was given in ages past, and “originated with kind and discriminating neighbours.” +<span class="pageNum" id="pb158">[<a href="#pb158">158</a>]</span></p> +<p>No doubt the neighbouring witches, just mentioned, kindly performed their share of +the nicknaming. +</p> +<p>The stories referring to the “red-haired Danes’ ” incursions seem to be handed down +from a time more remote than that of King Olof’s conversion at the Scilly Islands, +and much of what they say is confirmed by Snorri Sturluson in his <i>Heimskringla</i>. +</p> +</div> +</div> +<div id="ch68" class="div2 section"><span class="pageNum">[<a title="Go to the table of contents" href="#xd33e585">Contents</a>]</span><div class="divHead"> +<h3 class="main"><span class="sc">Santust Fuggans and Morvah Chick-chacks.</span></h3> +</div> +<div class="divBody"> +<p class="first">St. Just people do not seem to have had one of long standing, but they are favoured +with two at present. +</p> +<p>Many called them “Santust Fuggans,” and others “Red-tailed Drones.” The former is +given them from the heavy-cakes (fuggan) which they take to “ball” for a stay-stomach; +and the latter from their red working dress dyed with tin-stuff. +</p> +<p>One may remark that what we country folks call “drones” are large wild bees with orange-coloured +or red tails, and never the large male bees of the hive. When a slice of meat is baked +on a “fuggan” it then becomes a “hoggan.” +</p> +<p>Perhaps these peculiar words are old Cornish. A haws is also called a “hoggan,” but +that may be from the Saxon. +</p> +<p>It is uncertain how Morvah folks acquired the sobriquet of “Chick-chacks.” It is very +general: consequently one may suppose it to be of ancient date. Some say it was given +because the gabble of old Morvah people sounded like the chatter of birds commonly +called Chick-chacks, from their cry or note. Morvah Devils is also a common nickname. +</p> +</div> +</div> +<div id="ch69" class="div2 section"><span class="pageNum">[<a title="Go to the table of contents" href="#xd33e591">Contents</a>]</span><div class="divHead"> +<h3 class="main"><span class="sc">Nancledrea Rats and Zennor Goats.</span></h3> +</div> +<div class="divBody"> +<p class="first">Nancledrea folk owe their nickname of “rats” to their mill, or rather to their millers. +This may be understood by such scenes as the following, which often occurred:—The +“loader” (miller’s boy) having brought the grist to a farmhouse, the good wife would +“peze” (weigh by hand) the sacks of flour, bran, &c.—looking very wise, or sour the +while,—then relieve her mind by saying, “Look here, thou ‘pilyack’ (good-for-nothing +rascal), thee hast broft me up ‘tummals’ enow to be sure, but more than hafe of en +es secands and brand, that a es; and what thee hast broft for brand es most of am +barley hulls and ‘ishan’ (corn husks and dust,) but thee dosn’t care. The cunan old +Nancledrea rats have eat the best flour agen and left all the secands and brand. Dost +a hear me, you? I spose, too, that after the sacks had been twice tull’d, the millar’s +old wife dipped in her dish agen, for doubtan that they hadn’t ben tull’d enow before.” +</p> +<p>The loader, very unconcerned, lets the dame talk on, and she continues:— +</p> +<p>“Now, tell the old rat from me—dost a heer me?—ef a don’t <span class="pageNum" id="pb159">[<a href="#pb159">159</a>]</span>sarve me better next time, I’ll carry my corn to ‘four parishes round’ before I’ll +be cheated so; that I will; the devil take the hungry old rat and his wife too.” +</p> +<p>After some rough talk the boy was generally dismissed with a good slice of bread thickly +spread with cream and treacle. +</p> +<p>It is said that Zennor people obtained their nickname of “Goats” from the great number +of these animals which were formerly kept on the high rocky hills, amongst them Carn +Galva (goat’s carn), on the western side of this parish. +</p> +<p>It was also said that Zennor people would contrive, by their thrifty habits, to live +like goats, where other animals and ordinary human beings would starve. “As careful +as Zennor people” was a common saying in neighbouring parishes. Yet their care or +stinginess was often mistaken for economy, when their rearing cattle, and working +beasts as well, were so badly fed in winter that they came to “heaving” time, if not +before, in the spring. +</p> +<p>It was what we call “funny but whist” to see, of a morning, men or women, out in their +“crafts” (where such cattle were usually wintered) helping a poor, half-starved beast +to rise, and holding on to its tail until it could stand steady enow to devour the +little jerffel (armful) of straw, put before it. Yet, when they contrived to keep +alive their poor yearlings until summer, these hardy young cattle, then turned to +lanes, would often wander away for miles and get at the grass, or any crop to be found +on a remarkably fertile strip of land between the wild hills and the sea-shore, in +spite of all their spanning or steeping (tying the head down to a leg), or “mopping,” +by a piece of board hung before the eyes. +</p> +<p>On this strip of land, forming the morrab of Zennor, the principal farms of this parish +are situated. +</p> +</div> +</div> +<div id="ch70" class="div2 last-child section"><span class="pageNum">[<a title="Go to the table of contents" href="#xd33e597">Contents</a>]</span><div class="divHead"> +<h3 class="main"><span class="sc">Towednack Cuckoos and St. Ives Hakes.</span></h3> +</div> +<div class="divBody"> +<p class="first">Towednack people were nicknamed “Cuckoos” from the institution of what was called +their “Cuckoo Feast.” The story runs that, in old times, “Towednackers” fretted themselves +very much because the winters were so long “up there” in that bitter cold country; +besides, they grieved all the more on account of their having no feast, as in parishes +round. +</p> +<p>They owed this grievance either to their not having had a patron saint, or he had +ceased to be commemorated by an annual festival, if he ever were thus honoured. At +length the principal people of the parish agreed to meet at the public-house that +they might lay their heads together and, by their united wisdom, devise some plan +for bettering their condition in both respects. Abundance of strong drink and some +eatables were provided for the occasion. They met on the last week of April, and, +after a long deliberation, <span class="pageNum" id="pb160">[<a href="#pb160">160</a>]</span>one of the wisest proposed to hedge in a cuckoo, if ever she came there again, which +was a rare occurrence. +</p> +<p>One and all declared that nothing could be better; they would go the very next day +and begin to hedge in a place on Cold Harbour Downs, and leave a gap in the enclosure +through which she could be driven into it. They stayed together a week rejoicing over +their schemes, and singing the old refrain,— +</p> +<div class="lgouter"> +<p class="line">“The cuckoo is a pretty bird, +</p> +<p class="line xd33e3048">And sings as she flies; +</p> +<p class="line">And brings us fine weather, +</p> +<p class="line xd33e3048">And <span class="corr" id="xd33e3579" title="Source: tell">tells</span> us no lies.”</p> +</div> +<p class="first">They would have remained longer but their drink ran short. +</p> +<p>The story doesn’t say if they commenced hedging or not. They were so well pleased, +however, with the joyous way in which they had passed a week together that all of +them determined, henceforward to meet every year, at the same date, to hold a feast, +and to invite their friends from other parishes to come there and be entertained. +</p> +<p>The good folk kept their resolution, held a feasten week in a jovial way, and their +winters seemed shorter to them ever after. There are other versions of this old droll, +all of them intended to ridicule simple folk for confounding cause and effect; all +show, too, that there was something unusual in the establishment of Towednack feast. +</p> +<p>This feast was also called “Crowder feast,” from an old custom which was there kept +up at “the tide,” long after it had fallen into disuse in other parishes. +</p> +<p>On the feasten-Sunday morning, the people, with their “feasters” (visitors from other +parishes) met in Churchtown, at or near the inn. Whilst the bells rung, they arranged +themselves to form a kind of procession; when the bells ceased calling them, the fiddler +struck up a lively tune on his “crowd” (fiddle) and led them on to the Church door. +</p> +<p>After service they again formed in order on leaving the Church, and headed by the +“crowder,” fifers, and others playing a cheerful strain—whilst the bells rung,—as +was their wont at “the tide,”—they marched together three times round or through the +village before they dispersed and took their various roads home. +</p> +<p>This custom was regarded, by good people, as natural enough in more simple and sociable +times, when it was “Merrie England.” +</p> +<p>There is a saying that calves are christened at Towednack Quay Head. One would like +to know how this arose? +</p> +<p>St. Ives people are known as “hake whippers,” the tradition running that upon one +occasion they flogged the hakes out of the bay, which accounts for none having been +seen there since. But at St. Ives they will tell you that the Hake flogged was a man +of that name, and that he well deserved it. +<span class="pageNum" id="pb161">[<a href="#pb161">161</a>]</span></p> +</div> +</div> +</div> +</div> +<div id="ch71" class="div1 chapter"><span class="pageNum">[<a title="Go to the table of contents" href="#xd33e603">Contents</a>]</span><div class="divHead"> +<h2 class="main">A CORNISH DROLL:<br> +BETTY TODDY AND HER GOWN.</h2> +<h2 class="sub">(<i>RE-PRINTED BY DESIRE.</i>)</h2> +</div> +<div class="divBody"> +<p class="first">We almost every day hear the saying “As gay as Betty Toddy’s gown.” Yet few know anything +more of Betty, or her gown, although both were rather remarkable in their way and +day. Betty’s right name was Elizabeth Williams. There were four, if not five families +of this name in St. Just about a hundred years ago; when Betty flourished in all her +glory. To distinguish one of them from another, each family had a nickname, by which +they were better known than by their proper name, as Bibbs, Cobbler, Toddy, &c. The +family to which Betty belonged gained their queer name by some old granny of theirs +giving the children toddy (spirit and water) with their bread and butter, instead +of the usual milk, or pillas-porridge. When the old folks “went round land,” Betty +and her brother Jacob were left with a little holding in or near Churchtown. They +had ground enough to keep a cow or two, raise a little pease, barley, pillas, or naked +oats, which were very much used then before the murphies came into the country: the +everlasting pease porridge, broth and herby-pies, with milk instead of tea (only then +used by the gentry) was the every day fare. Jacob worked to bal, and brought home +his gettings to provide the few articles that their little quilletts didn’t supply. +Betty had all the profit of what she could spare to sell from her cows and poultry—not +much, for Jacob could eat as much as half-a-dozen men, and do as much work as half-a-score +of those going now, who have their inside washed out with tea and stuffed with potatoes. +The Toddy’s had been people of consequence in their time, and many rich and queer +articles of old-fashioned dress came to Betty from grandmothers and great-mothers, +in which she would appear in state at Church on Sundays, decked out in all sorts of +worn-out finery, put on any how, over the humblest of working-day clothing; as a black +silk mantle over a bed-gown, check apron, and quilted petticoat so patched that it +was hard to tell which was the first piece; high-heeled velvet shoes, with silver +buckles, over sheep-grey stockings; fan, rings, beads, pointed hat, lace ruffles hanging +from her elbows to her knees; all <span class="pageNum" id="pb162">[<a href="#pb162">162</a>]</span>the odds and ends of old-fashioned grandeur would be pitched on any how. But Betty +was not the only one in the parish then who dressed just in the same way. Betty determined +(when nearly out of her teens) that she would have a <span class="corr" id="xd33e3607" title="Source: bran">brand</span> new gown, the smartest in the parish. After saving her money for years—sometimes +half starving Jacob on “bread and scrape,” that she might have the more butter to +sell, allowing him no more than half-a dozen eggs with his breakfast and so on—she +thought that, by the Feast, surely she would have money enough to buy as gay a gown +as “heart could wish.” +</p> +<p>So Hallan Thursday, Betty started off with her basket of three weeks’ butter, and +the money she had been saving for years tied up in her pocket. Betty was so proud +that day that, when any found fault with the grey look of her butter, she said they +were fools and buckas not to know that the butter was always that colour from a black-and-white +cow. +</p> +<p>The grey butter was sold at last. Betty went up to Mr. Pidwell’s shop, called out +to the old gentleman before she got down the steps into the shop, “Mr. Pidwell, here +I am look’e, and I do want as strong a piece of dowlas as you have got in your shop +to make a smock, for I must have something that will stand plenty of wear, besides +a piece of something brave and smart to make a new gownd against the Feast.” Dowlas +for the smock was soon cut out. After, Mr. Pidwell turned over all his gayest prints +and chintz, but nothing could be found smart enough to please Betty, when she happened +to spy some bed furniture, covered with trees and flowers of all colours, birds singing +in the branches, cows couranting, with more sorts of beasts than ever entered the +ark—birds and beasts all as gay as the flowers. “Dear lord, Mr. Pidwell, there’s the +very thing I do want to have, but I suppose you do think that’s too smart for me; +that’s the sort of stuff for the ladies of the town to deck themselves in on Sundays +and high Holy-days; or else that I havn’t money enough to pay for’n. What es et a +yard than?” “Two and twenty pence,” says Mr. Ben. “No, don’t ye believe et, I arn’t +going to be taken in like that, for mammy only gave two and a grate (groat) for her +best gownd.” Mr. Pidwell let her have it at her own price, and made up the difference, +without taking the poor soul in. All the way home from Penzance to Church-town, Betty +and her comrades never tired of admiring the red and blue sheep, goats and deer, rabbits +and hares, horses, bulls, and such animals as were never born nor created. By the +Feasten Eve, the mantua-maker had made the precious gown to Betty’s mind. They contrived +to cut the stuff so as to have one of the red sheep on each shoulder, and a blue bull +on the back. +</p> +<p>In these good old times, everybody kept up the Feast as they ought. Jacob had killed +the pig for Winter’s use that week, and <span class="pageNum" id="pb163">[<a href="#pb163">163</a>]</span>a fine fat calf (none of your “staggering bob,” three weeks old, but something worth +calling veal, more than two months in this world), a noble piece of beef, to cut and +come again, hares and rabbits, geese and ducks, enough that all the cousins and old +acquaintances (not a few) expected to come to Feast might have a good “blow-out.” +Don’t ye believe it, that they went short of plenty of good drink in these roaring +times, when there was none of your cussed boat-men sneaking about—trying to hinder +one, but they can’t, from having plenty of good brandy from France. +</p> +<p>The feasten day, Betty was up in the morning early. The morning work was soon done; +the great crock put on with the beef, calf’s head, and dumpling; not more water than +just enough to cover them, as Betty said “She wouldn’t make dish-wash for Feasten +broth; no not she;” rabbit pie, veal and parsley pies, with the figgy-puddings, all +were put to bake, and the chimney full of turfey-fire, all in a glow from end to end, +when a poor half-witted fellow called Bucca,<a class="noteRef" id="xd33e3618src" href="#xd33e3618" title="Go to note 1.">1</a> who thought himself Betty’s sweetheart, came <span class="pageNum" id="pb164a">[<a href="#pb164a">164</a>]</span>in to watch the cooking, that Betty might dress in time to go to church to shew her +new gown. +</p> +<p>When Betty came out in her new gown, with all the rest of her faldelals, Bucca said +she was a grander lady, by ever so much than Madam down to Pendeen even, leave alone +the little gentry and many others thought the same, when Betty stopped at the cross, +where they waited long after the parson had gone into Church that they might see all +the beauty of Betty’s gay new gownd. +</p> +<p>The feasters, from the other parishes, were not expected to arrive much before dinner +time. Jacob had started off to meet some cousins from Sancrass on the road. Betty +told Bucca, be sure to keep the crock to boil, and when the broth was ready to take +up some and a dumpling or two for himself. The basins were breaded on the table, ready +for the feasters to help themselves as soon as they came in, according to custom. +</p> +<p>The sermon was begun before Betty entered the church door. Then the parson stopped +preaching, and everybody stood up to see Betty’s smart gown, and she was brave and +proud to stand up that they might see it. At last the parson went on again. Betty +and the rest had scarcely seated themselves, when Bucca tore into church crying out +“Betty! Betty! make haste home; the calf’s head have eat the dumplings all but one, +and es chasing that round the crock like mad, and the feasters are all come too!” +The parson now stopped for good, and all went out of church as fast as they could +tumble, to get a sight of Betty Toddy’s gay gown, and such a gay gown has never been +seen in Church-town from that day to this. As might be expected, Bucca found the dumplings +so good that he eat them all but one and put the fault on the calf’s head. No matter. +The feasters didn’t lack good cheer. +</p> +<p>Best part of the Sunday afternoon was passed in doing justice to the good cheer. Towards +night, Jacob and the men went round to see their old comrades; then one and all went +to the public-house for a spell. Betty and her female friends remained at home, that +<span class="pageNum" id="pb165">[<a href="#pb165">165</a>]</span>they might have a good chance of talking by themselves of what they never get weary—their +sweethearts. By the time they had told each other about all the youngsters who were +fighting for them, or getting drunk because they had been slighted by them, supper +being cooked in the meantime, all came in, and found the board laid with as substantial +a meal as they had for dinner, and plenty of nice kick-shaws besides. About midnight, +after taking eggy-beer and brandy, the old folks went home. The youngsters remained +to see, and join in, the games of the feasten week. +</p> +<p>Monday morning early, all the men were off to the wrestling. The ring was in a field +near Church-town. All the standards had been made before; they had only then to contend +for the prizes, which were given by the ladies of the parish, and usually consisted +of a pair of spurs for the first prize, a laced hat or <span class="corr" id="xd33e3645" title="Source: waiscoat">waistcoat</span> for the second, and a pair of gloves for the third. The sports of the wrestling-ring +and plan-an-guare (the round) which was given up to the boys for their games at quoits, +were kept up from daylight till dark night, when all went home for a hasty meal and +to take the girls to the public-house, where the fiddle and fife in every room put +life into the legs of the dancers; but they seldom found fiddles enough, and many +a merry jig and three-handed reel was kept agoing by the tune being sung to such old +catches as +</p> +<div class="lgouter"> +<p class="line">“Here’s to the devil, +</p> +<p class="line">With his wooden-spade and shovel, +</p> +<p class="line">Digging tin by the bushel, +</p> +<p class="line">With his tail cocked up;”</p> +</div> +<p class="first">or to “Mall Brooks is gone to the wars,” with a rattling chorus to suit the measure. +The end to another old catch to which they shoot their heel and toe was +</p> +<div class="lgouter"> +<p class="line">“A guinea will sink and a note will float, +</p> +<p class="line">Better is a guinea than a five-pound note.”</p> +</div> +<p class="first">Sometimes they merely sang hal-an-toe (heel-and-toe) to keep the mill a-going. At +the same time the sober old folks would be below stairs singing their “three-men’s-songs.” +At last, when all had danced and drunk so much that they could dance or drink no more, +it was “hurrah for home, comrades, to be up for the hurling-match in the morning.” +</p> +<p>Tuesday morning you would hear the noble old hurling cry of “Guare wheag y guare teag” +(fair play is good play) when the silver ball, with this motto engraved on it, was +thrown up from the cross. At the feast the match was usually between St. Just and +Burian or Sancreed; or Sennen and St. Levan together were regarded as a fair match +for St. Just. The run was often from Church-town to the stone marking the boundary +of the four <span class="pageNum" id="pb166">[<a href="#pb166">166</a>]</span>parishes, but when Pendeen was kept up in its glory then the goal was down to the +green-court gate, where the noble old squire would have a barrel of strong beer, with +abundance of other good cheer, to treat all comers. +</p> +<p>Pendeen didn’t look wisht and dreary then, with the place crowded with ladies, decked +in all that was rich and rare, to see the hurling-ball brought in. You should have +been there to see all the beautiful chimney-stacks of the grand old house sending +out the turf-smoke, to note the clouds coming out of that noble hall-chimney, just +beside the door; doesn’t it tell one of the comfort and free heart of all within? +What is it that makes that old building look so noble? Is it the angle at which the +roof is pitched, the exact proportion and variety of the chimney-stacks, or the just +proportions and correspondence of the whole, that makes the old mansion so pleasing +to the eye as well as interesting? +</p> +<p>Whilst we are admiring the house, all the hurlers are drinking health and a happy +long life to the squire and all his family. If the old stories may be credited there +was always good store of something stronger than “old October” no farther off than +the Vow, which the squire, being a justice, was supposed to know nothing about. They +say that when a cargo from France was expected to be run into the Cove, the ladies +would contrive to send the good old squire from home, or keep him indoors till the +liquor was safe in the Vow—the silks and laces in the ladies’ chests. +</p> +<p>Few were so curious as to venture near the Vow by night, scarcely by day, as all said +the place was haunted by the spirit of a lady which had often been seen coming out +of the cavern in the depth of Winter, dressed all in white, with a red rose in her +mouth; and woe betide the person who had the bad luck to see the ghost—misfortune +was sure to follow. We know now that great part of the ghosts which were said to haunt +many old mansions in the west were mere creations of the smugglers’ brains, to scarce +away the over-curious from the convenient hiding-places furnished by these old houses +in their vaults, caverns, secret closets behind or beside the chimneys, with many +other contrivances for the concealment of persons and property. +</p> +<p>The hurlers from the other parishes, whether they lost or won, were made to go back +to church-town or home with our St. Tusters to be treated. If the strangers would +neither eat or drink with them they would soon have to fight with them, and all in +friendship too. They would like enough be asked, “Dost thee think thyself too good +to eat or drink with me then? If that’s the case, come let’s see which is the best +man of us.” When they had half-killed each other, and had been only parted by their +comrades to save their lives, then they would shake hands, and say “Well thee art +worth having for a comrade; thee art just as good a man as myself,” <span class="pageNum" id="pb167">[<a href="#pb167">167</a>]</span>and be the best friends in the world ever after; and the night would be passed in +dancing and other fun till morning. +</p> +<p>When the feast was over with many, yet others would turn out for slinging matches, +on the Wednesday. This sport, if it may be called so (often more like a battle), is +as ancient as wrestling, or hurling, and has no doubt been in vogue as a pastime ever +since the sling was regarded as next in importance, as an offensive arm, to the bow +and arrow. The stories about the giants slinging rocks at each other on Morvah Downs +is proof enough of the antiquity of the sport. In the time of Betty and Jacob, the +boys and girls, by constant practice with the sling, were so dexterous in its use +that they could hit a mark at a very great distance. The men of St. Just, and many +of the women too, liked the sport so well that they would often draw for sides. The +two parties place themselves on the burrows of old tin works at a convenient distance, +and sling stones at each other, for dear life; they didn’t mind a few cut heads, for +the fun of the thing. +</p> +<p>We have said nothing about Jacob, Betty and their feasters this good while, but then, +you must know, they took their share in all the games that were going on, the same +as the rest. +</p> +<p>When Wednesday came, which is known as servy-day, when all the odds and ends of the +feast are served up, early in the afternoon the feasters return home. It wasn’t come +to servy-day either with Jacob and Betty; but as they intended to hold the “Little +Feasten Day” (for some visitors who could not come the feasten week) they didn’t press +the cousins to stay any longer. +</p> +<p>On Thursday, Betty thought they might as well return to the ordinary fare of pease-porridge, +and save the joints of meat for next Sunday’s visitors. Jacob went to bal, just for +the saying of the thing. Nobody thought of doing much before the next week, as it +takes days to tell all the news about the feast, the news brought to the parish by +the strangers, and to get to rights, as we say. The crock, with water to boil a gallon +or so of peas for Jacob’s supper, was only put on in the afternoon, as he was sure +to be late home. Betty placed some coals of turf fire under the crock, and enough +(as she thought) of fursey-turves round the brandes (trivet) to keep peas to boil: +then she went out to “coursey” a bit. +</p> +<p>Besides the feasten news, there was then, and always had been, a never-ending subject +for them to talk of in their constant fears of some foreigners or other landing in +Whitsand Bay or Priest’s Cove. Who they were to be, they couldn’t tell exactly. Only +they knew that the red-haired Danes<a class="noteRef" id="xd33e3676src" href="#xd33e3676" title="Go to note 2.">2</a> were to come again, when <span class="pageNum" id="pb168a">[<a href="#pb168a">168</a>]</span>Vellandruchar<a class="noteRef" id="xd33e3683src" href="#xd33e3683" title="Go to note 3.">3</a> mill would again be worked with blood, and the kings would dine on Table-māyon (mēn) +for the last time (as the world was to come to an end soon after). This they still +firmly believe may take place any day, because Merlin uttered a prophecy to that effect +more than a thousand years ago. As the time of Betty Toddy’s glory was about the commencement +of the American war of independence, when the French took sides with cousins over +the water, the greatest fear then was that the French would land some night and carry +off the tin; they didn’t fear much for what the French would do in the way of fighting, +so they said. Betty and the rest passed the evening, or night rather, in going round +Churchtown to hear the news and drinking confusion to the French in almost every house. +Long before Betty came in, Jacob came home pretty well slewed (tipsy) and very hungry, +but the peas were just as hard as when put in the crock; for soon after Betty went +out, the fire went out. However, Jacob ate about a gallon of the peas, ready or raw, +and, that he <span class="corr" id="xd33e3687" title="Source: might’nt">mightn’t</span> have the mully-grubs, <span class="pageNum" id="pb169">[<a href="#pb169">169</a>]</span>took an extra glass of brandy; and was in bed snoring, grunting, groaning, and tossing +like a porpoise, when Betty came in. We know that ill-boiled peas are very indigestable, +so one may guess how they troubled Jacob, among the beer and brandy, half raw as they +were. Betty could hear all Jacob’s uneasiness, as there was only a screen of thin +boards between their chambers, but she little heeded Jacob’s groaning, having enough +to do (as she wasn’t very steady in the head) to get into bed, to sleep herself sober. +</p> +<p>Towards the morning part of the night Betty awoke in a terrible fright. She had lost +all recollection of Jacob’s groans, as she went to bed, and, when she was fairly sensible +now, his roars were frightful. Her first thought was of the French! Without staying +to dress, she tore out of the house, roused all the neighbours from their beds, by +crying out at everybody’s door as she went tearing, half-naked, round Churchtown “Get +up! Get up! You’ll be murdered alive, the French es landed. I heard some of <span class="corr" id="xd33e3694" title="Source: em">’em</span> in our house!” +</p> +<p>In a few minutes after, half the women in Churchtown were racing round the place, +crying “Fire!” and “Murder,” “Blood and Thunder; you’ll all be killed in your beds +and be buried alive; the French es landed, get up! get up!” The bells were set ringing +in the tower. Will Tregear fired the furze on the Biccan (Beacon). The Biccan hills +were soon all a blaze from St. Just to Plymouth, where the nearest troops were stationed +then. Whilst the bells were still ringing, and women screeching in Churchtown, trumpet +and drum sounded reveillé in Plymouth garrison. The troops in red-hot haste got under +arms, and were marching Westward ho! Jan Trezise was sent off, fast as horse could +go, to meet the troops and guide them to St. Just. There were relays of horses kept +in all the principal towns on the road to Plymouth, ready saddled as soon as the Biccan +fires gave notice of the enemy landing in the West. +</p> +<p>They say that Jan didn’t ride very fast after he passed Penzance, for the pack-saddle +he took in his hurry to ride on so galled him that he could hardly sit on the horse’s +back when he arrived at Crowlas, sitting sidelong for more ease. The landlady took +pity on him, gave him the best pillow she had in the house to make a softer seat for +him, and a good dram of course; then on he went as best he could for Redruth, cussing +the French all the way. +</p> +<p>When Betty had alarmed all the town she came in and waked up her brother, but Jacob +only cussed the peas, the French, and Betty too; then snored away again. Betty, knowing +that the smugglers brought the silks, laces, and other smart things from France, and +that the French greatly admired dress and fashion, donned her gay gown, with all her +trinkets and trappings; placed bread, cream, and honey on the board, that the French +officers, <span class="pageNum" id="pb170">[<a href="#pb170">170</a>]</span>whom she expected to see every minute, might take her for a grand lady of the land, +and treat her with great respect. So she seated herself on the chimney-stool ready +to rise and make her curtsey, and thinking what she should say when the French Captain +came in. There leave her. +</p> +<p>At last, when daylight came to dispel the fears of the people of Churchtown, they +traced all the alarm spread by Betty to the indigestible peas eaten by Jacob for supper. +Yet they seem never to have thought of the consequences of the false alarm, and of +having the troops quartered on them for nothing, till the parson hearing of it in +Penzance (where he lived) came out the Saturday to see what was the matter. To make +sure that no Frenchmen were lurking about, all the creeks and coves were searched, +the hills and carns inspected. When satisfied that all the fuss was for nothing they +had the sense to send off countermanding orders by the parson’s man. +</p> +<p>The troops left Plymouth, and came on West in uncertainty as to where the enemy had +landed, Jan Trezise having lost his road, and got down to Gweek, where he was found +a month after in clover, for Gweek people treated him like a gentleman for bringing +them the news (there was no fear of the French finding them, yet they liked to know +what was going on in the rest of the world). +</p> +<p>The parson’s courier found the troops wandering about in a fog on the Four-burrow +downs, not knowing what way to steer. When told of the false alarm they were glad +enough to turn tail and cut off home again. +</p> +<p>There are plenty more queer things told about Betty Toddy, and others who lived about +this time in St. Just, but they are such wild rants that one don’t like to mention +them now, in these precise times, for fear the prim, sour folks who call themselves +enlightened may accuse one of romancing like an Old Celt. Not that any one need care +anything about their grimace; least of all an Old Celt. +</p> +<p>[Perhaps this story may be somewhat embellished or exaggerated through the volant +fancies of the Drolls; yet, from all that we have heard about the matter, there is +good reason for believing that a false alarm of the French having landed in St. Just +occurred, as stated above, on the Feasten week, when they were so muddle-headed that +they didn’t think of, nor care about the consequences of signalling to Plymouth for +troops. “They might all come to Feast, if they would; and welcome.” In some versions +of the story the troops are said to have arrived in Market-jew, without knowing where +they were wanted; yet the alarm had spread, from seeing the Beacons blazing, that +the French had landed in various parts of the county.] +<span class="pageNum" id="pb171">[<a href="#pb171">171</a>]</span></p> +</div> +<div class="footnotes"> +<hr class="fnsep"> +<div class="footnote-body"> +<div class="fndiv" id="xd33e3618"> +<p class="footnote"><span class="fnlabel"><a class="noteRef" href="#xd33e3618src" title="Return to note 1 in text.">1</a></span> This old Cornish word Bucca (still in common use) has various significations, and +none very clearly defined. It appears to belong to the same family of words as the +Irish “Pooka,” and the Welsh “Pwcca.” As above, it is often applied to a poor, half-witted +person of a <span class="corr" id="xd33e3621" title="Source: mischevious">mischievous</span> disposition—one about whom there is anything weird or wisht—to a ghost, or any kind +of frightful apparition, and by association of ideas to a scarecrow. By Buccaboo, +which is probably a corruption of Buccadhu (black spirit) we mean Old Nick, or one +of his near relations. As an example of this, there is a story told of an old lady +who lived long ago at Raftra, in St. Levan. The old dame, when more than fourscore, +was so fond of card playing that she would walk almost every Winter’s night, in spite +of wind or weather, to the village of Trebear, distant a mile or more, that she might +enjoy her favourite pastime with a family of congenial tastes who resided there. The +old lady’s step-daughter wished to put a stop to what she regarded as rather scandalous +vagaries, the old dame seldom arriving home before the small hours of the morning; +with this intention the young mistress persuaded the serving-man to array himself +in a white sheet, &c., so as to personate a ghost that was accused of wandering about +a lonely spot over which old madam would have to pass. The Winter’s night was dark +and rainy, when, about midnight, the ghost seated himself on the side of Goon-proynter +stile, where he had to wait two or three hours. The dear old lady was in no hurry +to leave pleasant company as it was Christmas time. At last the old lady passed Padz-jigga, +mounted the stile, and seated herself to draw breath opposite the ghost. Over a while, +she said, “<span class="corr" id="xd33e3624" title="Source: hallo">Hallo</span>! Bucca gwidden (white spirit) what cheer? And what in the world dost thee do here +with Bucca Dhu close behind thee?” This cool address so frightened Bucca-gwidden that +he ran off as fast as he could lay feet to ground, the old lady scampering after, +clapping her hands and calling “Good boy, Buccadhu; now thee west catch Bucca gwidden +and take’n away with thee!” The ghost was so frightened that he fell in a fit and +was never right in the head after. Then he was a real bucca in the sense of our Betty’s +sweetheart, and the strong minded sociable old lady enjoyed many more years of her +favourite pastime with her friends in Trebear. +</p> +<p class="footnote cont">Another Bucca of the mischievous class lived in St. Just but a short time since, who +gave rise to the saying “Between both,” as Bucca said. Being, as usual, loafing about +the public-house of a pay day, when there is more than the ordinary good cheer about, +Bucca happened to look into a room where Capt. Chynolds and another gentleman were +sitting in the window-seat. The captain said to the intruder, “Which art thee, Bucca, +a fool or a rogue?” Before making any reply, Bucca placed himself between them, then +answered “I’m between both, I believe!” <span class="pageNum" id="pb164">[<a href="#pb164">164</a>]</span>Another day he was idling about a new shaft that two men were engaged in sinking—one +filling the kibbal, the other winding up the stuff with a hand winze. The man to grass +told Bucca to take hold of the winze and wind up a few kibbals whilst he lighted his +pipe. Bucca wound up two or three all right. When the next kibbal full was near the +top of the shaft he called out “Hold on there below while I spit on my hands a minute.” +Down went the kibbal, winze and all smash, and half killed the man below. Bucca took +to his heels crying “Triz-wiz, triz-wiz; whipper-snapper, catch me if thee cust.” +(canst). +</p> +<p class="footnote cont">Another trick of the Bucca was to watch when the women put a nice bit of cake to bake +that they might have a comfortable cup of tea before the good man came home from work. +They would be sure to go out to coursey (gossip) a bit while the cake was baking. +Then Bucca would steal in, carry off the cake, and place a turf under the bake-pan, +carefully covered with fire again. When the gossip came to take up the nice bit she +might be heard to exclaim “Well I never thought I’d been out so long; my cake is burned +to ashes.” <a class="fnarrow" href="#xd33e3618src" title="Return to note 1 in text.">↑</a></p> +</div> +<div class="fndiv" id="xd33e3676"> +<p class="footnote"><span class="fnlabel"><a class="noteRef" href="#xd33e3676src" title="Return to note 2 in text.">2</a></span> The “red-haired Danes” have continued a source of terror and a name of reproach to +the present day. On the first of this month a Longrock quarrel was the subject of +a magisterial inquiry at the Penzance town-hall, when it was <span class="pageNum" id="pb168">[<a href="#pb168">168</a>]</span>proved that the defendant, Jeffery, had called one of the complainants, Lawrence, +who has rubrick hair, a “red-haired Dane.” In Sennen Cove, St. Just, and the western +parishes generally, there has existed, time out of mind, a great antipathy to certain +red-haired families, who were said to be descendants of the Danes, and whose ancestors +were supposed, centuries before, to have landed in Whitsand Bay, and set fire to, +and pillaged the villages. Indeed, this dislike to the Rufus-headed people was carried +so far that few families would allow any member to marry them, so that the unfortunate +race had the less chance of seeing their children lose the objectionable tinge of +hair. <a class="fnarrow" href="#xd33e3676src" title="Return to note 2 in text.">↑</a></p> +</div> +<div class="fndiv" id="xd33e3683"> +<p class="footnote"><span class="fnlabel"><a class="noteRef" href="#xd33e3683src" title="Return to note 3 in text.">3</a></span> As the name Vellandruchar means wheel-mill, the mill which was formerly in this place +was probably one of the oldest in the West. At no great distance from Vellandruchar +is the site of another ancient mill called Vellansager. This name is equally suggestive, +as denoting that the serging or bolting apparatus was not then common in the mills. +These old mills were situated in the lower part of Burrien, on the stream which divides +that parish from Paul. According to tradition, a sanguinary battle was fought on the +moors a little above Vellandruchar, between Arthur and the Danes, when they say the +mill was worked with blood, and that arrow, spear and axe-heads, with the remains +of other weapons, have frequently been found in the bog-turf (peat soil) which is +cut for fuel from Vellandruchar Moors. These moors were also said to be so much infested +with adders, in old time, that cattle could not be turned into them in Summer, until +one day an adder got into a pot of milk, which a man who was cutting turf on the moor +brought with him to drink. The man placed a turf on the mouth of the pot, and stopped +the adder in it. In a short time the imprisoned adder made a peculiar noise, which +attracted other adders round the pot. These, in turn, seemed to call others, until +from all parts of the moors the adders were seen directing their course straight to +the interesting captive. The men cutting turf on the moors were all obliged to flee +the low grounds. Towards night, when they ventured into the moor, they found that +a mass of adders, as large as an ordinary hay-cock, had interlaced themselves into +a solid heap over and round the pot. The people then formed a ring of dry furze, and +other fuel they found ready cut, around the mass of adders, now apparently torpid. +When many scores of trusses of furze were collected, fire was placed at the same instant +to several parts of the ring of furze. They say that the noise made by the burning +adders was frightful, and that a great number of milpreaves were found in the ashes. +</p> +<p class="footnote cont">This story of the adders is also told about Trevethow Moors, the ground now called +the Hay Meadow, and many other places. <a class="fnarrow" href="#xd33e3683src" title="Return to note 3 in text.">↑</a></p> +</div> +</div> +</div> +</div> +<div id="ch72" class="div1 chapter"><span class="pageNum">[<a title="Go to the table of contents" href="#xd33e609">Contents</a>]</span><div class="divHead"> +<h2 class="main">THE GHOST-LAYER.</h2> +</div> +<div class="divBody"> +<p class="first">There need be no difficulty about getting a ghost laid. We have just heard of a local +preacher, living in the district between Camborne and Helston, who, according to his +own account, has put many troublesome spirits to rest, generally by settling for them +their mundane affairs, about which they were troubled, by reasoning with and advising +them to stay below, bear their punishment with a good heart, make the best of a bad +matter, and hope for better times. He allowed that sometimes he was merely deluding +the ghosts; yet, no matter, the end sought was attained—anything to get rid of them! +</p> +<p>As he had a rather uncommon adventure in laying one ghost, we give an account, somewhat +abridged, of this enterprise. +</p> +<p>From some trifling cause the spirit got back again to its late abode, before the mourners +had quitted the public-house, in Churchtown, where, as is customary, they stopped +awhile to treat and take leave of their friends, who had come to the funeral from +a distance. +</p> +<p>The ghost became, at once, so annoying, that none could rest in the house with it, +and, a few nights after the burial, the family of the deceased, not knowing what to +do to obtain any rest, fetched the preacher, who was believed to possess extraordinary +knowledge of spiritual matters and power over the ghostly world and its inhabitants. +He entered the haunted house alone. After many hours passed in prayer and expostulation +with the obstinate spirit, it at last consented to return to its grave and stay there, +if the exorcist and preacher would accompany it to the churchyard to see it landed +there. +</p> +<p>And now happened the most remarkable part of this affair. About midnight, the ghost +layer bound the spirit with a piece of new rope, and fastened the other end of it +round his own waist, that the spirit mightn’t give him the slip. The spirit, gentle +as a lamb, was then led out of the house; but it had no sooner crossed the door-sill +than the dwelling was surrounded by a pack of yelping hounds, of which the town-place +was full, and the old one riding up the lane in a blaze of fire. +</p> +<p>The spirit, to save itself from being caught by hounds and huntsman, mounted high +up in the air, taking the man (hanging by the middle) with it. Away they went, over +trees, hills, and water. In less than a minute they passed over some miles, and <span class="pageNum" id="pb172">[<a href="#pb172">172</a>]</span>alighted in the churchyard, close by the spirit’s grave, which the man saw open, and +blue sulphurous flames issuing therefrom, and he heard, coming from below, most horrid +shrieks and moans. +</p> +<p>The ghost, knowing it was no use to contend with the man of faith, only stopped to +say farewell, and then descended into its grave, which immediately closed. The man—overcome, +by being borne, with lightning speed, through the air, or by the infernal fumes rising +from the open grave,—fell down in a fit, from which he didn’t recover till daybreak, +and then he was scarcely able to leave the churchyard. When near the town-place, which +he had left with the spirit, in the branch of a tree he found his hat, that must have +fallen from his head on first mounting through the air. +</p> +<p>The most probable solution of this story (told in good faith and firmly believed) +is that the ghost-layer, after taking too much spirit in the public-house, rambled +into the churchyard, there fell asleep, and dreamed the rest. +</p> +<p></p> +<div class="figure p172width"><img src="images/p172.png" alt="Two menhirs with moon at night." width="325" height="183"></div><p> +<span class="pageNum" id="pb173">[<a href="#pb173">173</a>]</span></p> +</div> +</div> +<div id="ch73" class="div1 chapter"><span class="pageNum">[<a title="Go to the table of contents" href="#xd33e615">Contents</a>]</span><div class="divHead"> +<h2 class="main">CORNISH DIALOGUE BETWEEN TWO OLD MEN.</h2> +</div> +<div class="divBody"> +<p class="first center"><i>Job Munglar.</i> +</p> +<div class="lgouter"> +<p class="line">Loard! uncle Jan Trudle, dost a hire the news</p> +<p class="line">How belike we shall stompey in temberan shoes?</p> +<p class="line">For the Franchmen and Spangars be coaming, they saey,</p> +<p class="line">For to carry us ale from ould Inglant away!</p> +</div> +<p class="first center"><i>Jan Trudle.</i> +</p> +<div class="lgouter"> +<p class="line">Hould tha toang, tha’ great toatledum pattick of Newlyn,</p> +<p class="line">What becaze the old wemmen be dwailing and druling,</p> +<p class="line">And fright’ning one tother with goblins and goastes,</p> +<p class="line">And a squaling “The Franchmen be got ’pon the coastes!”</p> +<p class="line">Shoar thee beestu’n sich a whit-liver’d saft-bak’d Tim-doodle</p> +<p class="line">As to think they’ll titch ground this <span class="corr" id="xd33e3750" title="Source: em">’em</span> side of the poodle.</p> +<p class="line">Noa—drat’em! they weant bring thick noashion to bear,</p> +<p class="line">While there’s bould Coarnish curridge to give ’em a cheer.</p> +<p class="line">And trust me, Job Munglar, I’ll weage me ould hat!</p> +<p class="line">They have too much of slydom to venture ’pon that.</p> +<p class="line">Besides ef they shud, as a body may saeya,</p> +<p class="line">Dust a think that we’d let ’em goa deancing aweay?</p> +<p class="line">Noa—Faith! thof I stand here so ould as thy vaather,</p> +<p class="line">And thee and thy bastards ale reckon’d togeather;</p> +<p class="line">Thof I’m lame in my click-hand, and blind ’pon one eye,</p> +<p class="line">Yet by Gambers! Jan Trudle would scoarn to fight shy,</p> +<p class="line">Or stand gogling for gapes, like an owl at an eagle,</p> +<p class="line">Or yowling just ain like a Jany Tregeagle!</p> +<p class="line">Noa—dost hire ma! Job Munglar, cheeld veane! dest a hire?</p> +<p class="line">There’s no mortal can saey I’m afeard to stand fire.</p> +<p class="line">And thee knawst et for sartin, as how, and so be,</p> +<p class="line">When the marchants wor sheppin the bearley, dest see,</p> +<p class="line">And we run’d off to Padsta to nack their purceedings;</p> +<p class="line">Ded I mind the riat-act-man and ’es readings?</p> +<p class="line">Noa, I called out the Hubbar—soa hard as I cud,</p> +<p class="line">And cried, stand to et boys! tes for bearly or blood!</p> +<p class="line">And when ale the soadgers ded loady their guns,</p> +<p class="line">I made the purpoashals to dost ’an weth stoans.</p> +<p class="line">Soa we cobb’d et away jest like lyants and tygars</p> +<p class="line">Till we made am at laste fale a snapping the trigars.</p> +<p class="line">And drat <span class="corr" id="xd33e3781" title="Source: em">’em</span>! Job Munglar! I’m bould for to saey</p> +<p class="line">That I steev’d down three rud-coats so ded as a daey.</p> +<p class="line">But I scorn to stand speeching braggashans and soa,</p> +<p class="line">As ale round the Bal here do very well knoaw.</p> +<p class="line">Yet in caze, ef so be, as the Papishes coame,</p> +<p class="line">For to roust us ale out from our houzen and hoam,</p> +<p class="line">I’ll be cut up in slivers for meat for the crowas,</p> +<p class="line">Ef I doant slam this tamlyn souse into their joaws.</p> +<p class="line">Thof I’ve been ever sence that I noozled the nepple,</p> +<p class="line">Durk as pitch a won side, and a hafe of a crepple;<span class="pageNum" id="pb174">[<a href="#pb174">174</a>]</span></p> +<p class="line">Yet I’ve heart’s-blood enow if we chance to fale too’t,</p> +<p class="line">For to murder five Franch and a Spangar to boot!</p> +<p class="line">But et es noa moar likely to coam unto pass,</p> +<p class="line">Than thick moyle to fale talkeing like Balaamses ass!</p> +</div> +<p class="first center"><i>Job Munglar.</i> +</p> +<div class="lgouter"> +<p class="line">Well! that maey be thickey suppoashal’s o’ thine;</p> +<p class="line">But fath! ’tis noa mazedish condudle o’ mine!</p> +<p class="line">Noa—soa sartin as thickey there place es Kearn Braey,</p> +<p class="line">The Franchmen be coaming to car us awey.</p> +<p class="line">They’ve five hundred great sheps, and mashes of men,</p> +<p class="line">And sich powars of cannons, as ever was sen!</p> +<p class="line">But the worstest of ale (sez a man cum’d from Famuth),</p> +<p class="line">They have swared to burn ale from Tol Ped’n to Plemuth;</p> +<p class="line">And to force ale the people, boath Chrestians and Jews,</p> +<p class="line">For to live upon quilkins and pagetopooes;</p> +<p class="line">And moar too than thickey, they’ll hitch in a roap</p> +<p class="line">Every soual that weant pray to the Devel and Poap!</p> +<p class="line">Thof I beant quite soa rich-like in cuyn as a squire,</p> +<p class="line">Yet I’ve soam little cob-shans, Jan Trudle! dedst hire?</p> +<p class="line">Soa for doubting, cheeld lookey! I’ve steev’d et, oak farm,</p> +<p class="line">And “fast bind it, fast find it,” weant do one noa harm.</p> +<p class="line">Soa for doubting cheeld vean! (as I tould tha afoar)</p> +<p class="line">I’ve squadg’d et down ninety good fathoms and moar,</p> +<p class="line">In a drang, where ould scratch, ef ha ever inclin’d et,</p> +<p class="line">Might sclau ale his claws off afoar he wud find et.</p> +<p class="line">For the outlandish Pagans, in caze they do landey,</p> +<p class="line">Will go drifting for cuyn, like excise-men for brandey;</p> +<p class="line">But ef ever they smill out the pleace where I’ve poat et,</p> +<p class="line">May my corps like a pelchard be saleted and goated!</p> +</div> +<p class="first center"><i>Jan Trudle.</i> +</p> +<div class="lgouter"> +<p class="line">Why then zounds! let <span class="corr" id="xd33e3836" title="Source: em">’em</span> coam, ef soo be they’ve a mind</p> +<p class="line">Thee hast shanks for to skeyce with thy fardle behind.</p> +<p class="line">Thee maeyest scamp wi’ the wemmen and cheldren, thee goose!</p> +<p class="line">And the oather gret gaukums that take the same coose.</p> +<p class="line">And may ale the <a class="noteRef" id="xd33e3844src" href="#xd33e3844" title="Go to note 1.">1</a>big thunder-bolts up in the clouds</p> +<p class="line">Tumble down ’pon my body, and squat <span class="corr" id="xd33e3849" title="Source: em">’em</span> to jouds,</p> +<p class="line">May I broyle like grain-tin in a blowing-house fire,</p> +<p class="line">’Tell I’m rud as the smith makes the pieces of ire;</p> +<p class="line">Ef I weant be shut ded, afoar enny soap-meagar,</p> +<p class="line">Shall slavify me like a blackey-moor negar,</p> +<p class="line">And make me ate quilkins and pagetepooes,</p> +<p class="line">And worship the Devel and wear woaden shoes!<a class="noteRef" id="xd33e3860src" href="#xd33e3860" title="Go to note 2.">2</a></p> +<p class="line">Noa fath! by the sperit and soal of my body,</p> +<p class="line">I’d rather be toarn’d to a hoddymandoddy!</p> +<p class="line">Doan’t stand, tha’ great lutterpooch! chewing tha thumb;</p> +<p class="line">For they’ll get a mayn dousting when ever they coam!</p> +</div> +<p><span class="pageNum" id="pb175">[<a href="#pb175">175</a>]</span></p> +</div> +<div class="footnotes"> +<hr class="fnsep"> +<div class="footnote-body"> +<div class="fndiv" id="xd33e3844" lang="la"> +<p class="footnote" lang="la"><span class="fnlabel"><a class="noteRef" href="#xd33e3844src" title="Return to note 1 in text.">1</a></span> At pater omnipotens adigat me fulmine ad umbras, Pallentes umbras Erebi, noctemque +profundam, &c., &c. <a class="fnarrow" href="#xd33e3844src" title="Return to note 1 in text.">↑</a></p> +</div> +<div class="fndiv" id="xd33e3860"> +<p class="footnote"><span class="fnlabel"><a class="noteRef" href="#xd33e3860src" title="Return to note 2 in text.">2</a></span> This was nearly the language of our learned countryman, Mr. Moyle, in “A charge to +the Grand Jury at Liskeard, April, 1706.” “If France (says he) prevails in this war, +we shall be dragooned into idolatry, slavery, and wooden shoes.”—See Moyle’s works, +vol. 1, p. 163. <a class="fnarrow" href="#xd33e3860src" title="Return to note 2 in text.">↑</a></p> +</div> +</div> +</div> +</div> +<div id="ch74" class="div1 chapter"><span class="pageNum">[<a title="Go to the table of contents" href="#xd33e621">Contents</a>]</span><div class="divHead"> +<h2 class="main">A DIALOGUE BETWEEN GRACEY PENROSE AND MALLY TREVISKY.</h2> +</div> +<div class="divBody"> +<p class="first center"><i>Gracey.</i> +</p> +<div class="lgouter"> +<p class="line">Faith and trath then, I b’leve, in ten parishes round,</p> +<p class="line">Sickey roage, sichey vellan, es nat to ba found!</p> +</div> +<p class="first center"><i>Mally.</i> +</p> +<div class="lgouter"> +<p class="line">Whot’s tha fussing, un Gracey! long wetha, cheel vean?</p> +</div> +<p class="first center"><i>Gracey.</i> +</p> +<div class="lgouter"> +<p class="line">A fussing aketha! od splet es ould braeane!</p> +<p class="line">Our Martin’s cum’d hum, cheeld, so drunk as a beast,</p> +<p class="line">So cross as the gallish from Perranzan veast,</p> +<p class="line">A kicking, a tottering, a cussin, and swearing,</p> +<p class="line">So hard as the stomses a tarving and tearing.</p> +</div> +<p class="first center"><i>Mally.</i> +</p> +<div class="lgouter"> +<p class="line">Naver mind et, un Gracey!—cheeld, put en to bed:</p> +<p class="line">Aal slepe ale the lecker away from hes head.</p> +</div> +<p class="first center"><i>Gracey.</i> +</p> +<div class="lgouter"> +<p class="line">I wudden go neast an to fang the King’s crown;</p> +<p class="line">For a swears, ef I speke t’un, aal cleave my skull down.</p> +<p class="line">Thee never in aal thy born days, fath and shoar,</p> +<p class="line">Dedst behould sickey mazegerry pattick afore.</p> +<p class="line">Why a scatt all to midjans and jouds for the nons</p> +<p class="line">A cloam buzza of scale milk about on the scons;</p> +<p class="line">And a catch’d up a shoul for to steve me outright;</p> +<p class="line">And I run’d away ready to fainty for fright.</p> +<p class="line">Loard! tell ma, un Mally! what shall I do by an—</p> +<p class="line">For zountikins! death! I’m affeared to go nigh an.</p> +</div> +<p class="first center"><i>Mally.</i> +</p> +<div class="lgouter"> +<p class="line">I know what I’d gee’n, ef sa bee ’twor my caze:</p> +<p class="line">I’d scatt the ould chacks an, I’d trem an, un Grace!</p> +</div> +<p class="first center"><i>Gracey.</i> +</p> +<div class="lgouter"> +<p class="line">I’m affear’d a ma life to go nigh the ould vellan,</p> +<p class="line">Else, please father, I bleve I should parfectly kell an,</p> +<p class="line">But I’ll never no more be so bauld and abus’d:</p> +<p class="line">My arms here like bazam the roage have abruis’d!</p> +<p class="line">I made for hes supper a muggetty pye;</p> +<p class="line">But a shant clunk a croom ate, I wish a may die!</p> +</div> +<p><span class="pageNum" id="pb176">[<a href="#pb176">176</a>]</span></p> +<p class="first center"><i>Mally.</i> +</p> +<div class="lgouter"> +<p class="line">I tould thee, afore that the job was adone,</p> +<p class="line">That theedst find out tha odds ate so sure as a gun:</p> +<p class="line">But thee wusent hark to me for doubting, for why,</p> +<p class="line">Becase thee didst know en much better than I?</p> +<p class="line">But I know’d the trem aan before thee hads got an,</p> +<p class="line">And tould thee a mashes of stories about an.</p> +<p class="line">But thee answered so toytish, and skrink’d up tha noze,</p> +<p class="line">A gissing ’twas gret stramming lyes I suppoze.</p> +<p class="line">There’s one of es pranks I shall always remembar,</p> +<p class="line">(’Twill be dree years agon come the ighth of Novembar),</p> +<p class="line">I’d two purty young mabyers as eyes cou’d behould,</p> +<p class="line">So fat as the butter, just ighteen weeks ould:</p> +<p class="line">They were picking about in town-place for meat:</p> +<p class="line">So I hove down some pellase among mon to eat;</p> +<p class="line">When who but your man cum’d a tottering along,</p> +<p class="line">So drunk that I thoft he wud fale in the dung:</p> +<p class="line">Aleft fale hes hoggan-bag jest by the door;</p> +<p class="line">So I caal’d to the man (as one would to be sure)</p> +<p class="line">Says I: “Martin! dust hire, cheeld? cum take up tha bag;”</p> +<p class="line">“Arra, (sezza) for what art a caleing me dog!”</p> +<p class="line">An a run’d forth, tha roage, an nar better nar wus,</p> +<p class="line">Nact the mabyers both stef with a geart maur of fusse.</p> +<p class="line">Like anow ef I eadnt got hasty’s away,</p> +<p class="line">He’d adone as a ded by Jan Rose t’other day;</p> +<p class="line">When a got in his tantrums, a wilful ould devil,</p> +<p class="line">And slam’d the poor soal in the head with a kebbal.</p> +</div> +<p class="first center"><i>Gracey.</i> +</p> +<div class="lgouter"> +<p class="line">When the cyder is run’d away every drap,</p> +<p class="line">’Tis too late to be thinkene of plugging the tap:</p> +<p class="line">And marriage must go as the Loard doth ordain:</p> +<p class="line">Yet ef I’d know’d the coose aan, un Mally, cheel vean?</p> +<p class="line">Ef I’d known the coose aan but nine weeks ago</p> +<p class="line">I’d never ha had the ould vellan, I know.</p> +<p class="line">But a vow’d and a swared that ef I’d be hes wife,</p> +<p class="line">I never should want all the days of my life;</p> +<p class="line">And a broft me a nakin and corn-save from Preen—</p> +<p class="line">En ma conscience, thoft I, I shall live like a Queen!</p> +<p class="line">But tes plagy provoking, adsplet hes ould head!</p> +<p class="line">To be pooted and slopt so! I wish a were dead!</p> +<p class="line">Why a spent half hes fangings last Saturday night:</p> +<p class="line">Like anow, by this time, tes gone every dyte.</p> +<p class="line">But I’ll tame the ould deval afore et es long—</p> +<p class="line">Ef I caant wa ma vistes I will wa ma tonge!</p> +</div> +<p class="first"></p> +<div class="figure p176width"><img src="images/p176.png" alt="Head of snake." width="227" height="104"></div><p> +<span class="pageNum" id="pb177">[<a href="#pb177">177</a>]</span></p> +</div> +</div> +<div id="ch75" class="div1 chapter"><span class="pageNum">[<a title="Go to the table of contents" href="#xd33e627">Contents</a>]</span><div class="divHead"> +<h2 class="main">CHRISTMAS CAROLS.</h2> +</div> +<div class="divBody"> +<p class="first">Some of us remember when it was a custom, in the parishes of West Cornwall, for a +few elderly persons to meet in Church, late on Christmas Eve, and sing till after +midnight, a good number of cheerful, quaint old carols, which were quite different +from the solemn Christmas hymns that have supplanted them. +</p> +<p>The favourite carols, for the most part contained such legends as are preserved in +the <i>Mysteries</i>, or <i>Old Miracle Plays</i>, which continued to be performed in the western parishes, on Sunday afternoons, down +to Elizabeth’s reign or later. Others may have been derived from the Apocryphal Gospels. +</p> +<p>Such, for instance, are the circumstances referred to in the <i>Cherry-tree</i> carol, beginning with +</p> +<div class="lgouter"> +<p class="line">“Joseph was an old man, an old man was he, +</p> +<p class="line">When he wedded Mary, in the land of Galilee, +</p> +<p class="line">When Joseph and Mary walked in the garden good, +</p> +<p class="line">There were cherries and berries as red as the blood.”</p> +</div> +<p class="first">And the <i>Holy-well</i>, which thus begins:— +</p> +<div class="lgouter"> +<p class="line">“As it fell out, one May morning, +</p> +<p class="line xd33e3048">And upon one bright holiday, +</p> +<p class="line">Sweet Jesus asked of His dear mother, +</p> +<p class="line xd33e3048">If He might go out to play.”</p> +</div> +<p class="first">Many other examples might be given of these legendary pieces, which are now almost +forgotten. +</p> +<p>We were delighted, however, last Christmas, to hear a few youngsters singing in Penzance +streets the pleasant one called the <i>Sunny Bank</i>, or the <i>Three Ships</i>, which is also very old. +</p> +<p>Among those of special interest may be noticed “In those Twelve Days,” “The Joys of +Mary,” and “Man’s Duty.” Slightly different versions of these are common here and +in Wales; and according to Mr. W. Sandys, there is a Breton song, as old as the fifth +century, in the dialect of Cornouaille, called “Ar Rannou,” or “Les Series,” arranged +as a dialogue between a Druid and his disciple on their ancient maxims and rites, +which is similar in idea and construction to “In those Twelve Days,” or “What is that +which is but one?” +</p> +<p>The early missionaries engrafted on this ancient Armorican poem a Latin hymn, in the +same form, where the series of twelve subjects is connected with the Christian religion +and agrees with those of the carol, +</p> +<div class="lgouter"> +<p class="line">“What is that which is but one?”</p> +</div> +<p><span class="pageNum" id="pb178">[<a href="#pb178">178</a>]</span></p> +<p class="first">At the end of each verse in the <i>Druid’s Song</i>, the Latin hymn, and the three last-mentioned carols, all the previous subjects are +repeated in the style of “The House that Jack built.” The whole piece can be constructed +from the last verse. That of “In those Twelve Days,” is given as an example:— +</p> +<div class="lgouter"> +<div class="lg"> +<p class="line">“In those <span class="sc">TWELVE</span> days, and in those twelve days, let us be glad, +</p> +<p class="line">For God of His power hath all things made. +</p> +</div> +<div class="lg"> +<p class="line xd33e2462">What are they that are but twelve? +</p> +<p class="line xd33e2462">Twelve Apostles Christ did choose +</p> +<p class="line xd33e2462">To preach the Gospel to the Jews. +</p> +<p class="line xd33e4046">And in those twelve days, &c. +</p> +</div> +<div class="lg"> +<p class="line xd33e2462"><span class="sc">Eleven</span> thousand virgins did partake, +</p> +<p class="line xd33e2462">And suffered death for Jesu’s sake. +</p> +</div> +<div class="lg"> +<p class="line xd33e2462"><span class="sc">Ten</span> commandments God hath given, +</p> +<p class="line xd33e2462">Use them well, and go to Heaven. +</p> +</div> +<div class="lg"> +<p class="line xd33e2462"><span class="sc">Nine</span> degrees of angels high, +</p> +<p class="line xd33e2462">Which praise God continually. +</p> +</div> +<div class="lg"> +<p class="line xd33e2462"><span class="sc">Eight</span> beatitudes are given, +</p> +<p class="line xd33e2462">Use them well, and go to Heaven. +</p> +</div> +<div class="lg"> +<p class="line xd33e2462"><span class="sc">Seven</span> days in the week have we, +</p> +<p class="line xd33e2462">Six to work and the seventh holy. +</p> +</div> +<div class="lg"> +<p class="line xd33e2462"><span class="sc">Six</span> ages this world shall last, +</p> +<p class="line xd33e2462">Five of them are gone and past. +</p> +</div> +<div class="lg"> +<p class="line xd33e2462"><span class="sc">Five</span> senses we have to tell, +</p> +<p class="line xd33e2462">God grant us grace to use them well. +</p> +</div> +<div class="lg"> +<p class="line xd33e2462"><span class="sc">Four</span> Gospels written true— +</p> +<p class="line xd33e2462">John, Luke, Mark, and Matthew. +</p> +</div> +<div class="lg"> +<p class="line xd33e2462"><span class="sc">Three</span> persons in the Trinity, +</p> +<p class="line xd33e2462">The Father, Son, and Ghost Holy. +</p> +</div> +<div class="lg"> +<p class="line xd33e2462"><span class="sc">Two</span> Testaments, as we are told, +</p> +<p class="line xd33e2462">The one is New, the other Old. +</p> +</div> +<div class="lg"> +<p class="line xd33e2462"><span class="sc">We</span> have but <span class="sc">One</span> God alone, +</p> +<p class="line xd33e2462">In Heaven above sits on His throne. +</p> +<p class="line xd33e4046">And in those twelve days,” &c.</p> +</div> +</div> +<p class="first">Old country folk may still be often heard chanting this ancient effusion, with all +its repetitions. It is more frequently, however, recited or taught to children as +a kind of pious exercise for their memories at Christmastide. +</p> +<p>Cornish people have been famous for their carols from an early date. Scawen says:—“They +had them at several times, especially at Christmas, which they solemnly sung, and +sometimes used in their churches, after prayers, the burthen of them being <span class="corr" id="xd33e4134" title="Source: “">‘</span>Nowell, Nowell, good news, good news, of the Gospel.<span class="corr" id="xd33e4137" title="Not in source">’</span>” +</p> +<p>These old joyful Christmas songs have long held their own—thanks to their wonderfully +interesting legends and their lively tunes, that seem like the echoes of merry peals +of bells. +<span class="pageNum" id="pb179">[<a href="#pb179">179</a>]</span></p> +</div> +</div> +<div id="ch76" class="div1 chapter"><span class="pageNum">[<a title="Go to the table of contents" href="#xd33e633">Contents</a>]</span><div class="divHead"> +<h2 class="main">ANCIENT MIDSUMMER CUSTOMS.</h2> +</div> +<div class="divBody"> +<p class="first">Our bonfires, torches, and tar-barrels, with the peculiar hand-in-hand dance around +the blazing piles, remind us of ancient times when similar customs were regarded as +sacred rites by our forefathers; and it would seem as if some vestiges of these time-honoured +religious notions were still connected with Midsummer bonfires in the minds of old-fashioned +people, living in remote and primitive districts, where the good folks still believe +that dancing in a ring over the embers, around a bonfire, or leaping (singly) through +the flames, is calculated to ensure good luck to the performers, and to serve as a +protection from witchcraft and other malign influences during the ensuing year. +</p> +<p>Many years ago, on Midsummer’s eve, when it became dusk, very old people in the West +country would hobble away to some high ground, whence they obtained a view of the +most prominent hills, such as Bartinney, Chapel Carn-brea, Sancras Bickan, Castle-an-dinas, +Trecrobben, Carn Galvar, St. Ann’s Bickan, and many other beacon hills far away to +north and east, which vied with each other in their Midsummer’s blaze. Some of them +anxiously watched for a sight of the first fire. From its position, with respect to +them, they drew a presage of good or bad luck. If first beheld in the east it was +a good sign. There are now but few bonfires seen on the western heights; yet we have +observed that Tregonan, Godolphin, and Carn Marth hills, with others away towards +Redruth, still retain their Baal fires. We would gladly go many miles to see the weird-looking +yet picturesque dancers around the flames on a carn, or high hill top, as we have +beheld them some thirty years ago. +</p> +<p>We are sorry to find that another pleasing Midsummer’s observance, which also appears +to be ancient, has almost died out. Yet within the memory of many who would not like +to be called old, or even aged, on a Midsummer’s eve, long before sunset, groups of +girls, of from ten to twenty years of age, neatly dressed and decked with garlands, +wreaths, or chaplets of flowers, would be seen dancing in the streets. +</p> +<p>One favourite mode of adornment was to sew or pin on the skirt of a white dress, rows +of laurel-leaves, often spangled with gold leaf. Before Midsummer small wooden hoops +were in great demand, to be wreathed with green boughs and flowers for garlands, <span class="pageNum" id="pb180">[<a href="#pb180">180</a>]</span>to be worn over one shoulder and under the opposite arm. Towards sunset, groups of +graceful damsels, joined by their brothers, friends or lovers, would be seen “threading +the needle,” playing at “kiss-in-the-ring,” or simply dancing along, every here and +there from Chyandour to Alverton, from the Quay to Caunsehead, as the upper part of +the town used then to be called, perhaps with more propriety than Causewayhead. +</p> +<p>And here, at Caunsehead, this innocent pastime was most generally observed and lingered +longest. +</p> +<p></p> +<div class="figure p180width"><img src="images/p180.png" alt="Group of miners in mine." width="258" height="208"></div><p> +<span class="pageNum" id="pb181">[<a href="#pb181">181</a>]</span></p> +</div> +</div> +<div id="ch77" class="div1 chapter"><span class="pageNum">[<a title="Go to the table of contents" href="#xd33e640">Contents</a>]</span><div class="divHead"> +<h2 class="main">THE “HILLA.”</h2> +</div> +<div class="divBody"> +<p class="first">From the ideas of old folks respecting this distemper, one may conjecture that its +Cornish name meant some kind of spirit which had, for the time, taken a material form. +Forty years or more ago, an old farmer of Sancreed, who had been a noted hurler when +in his prime, told me that in his younger days, when hurling matches came off between +Sancras and some neighbouring parish almost every Sunday afternoon, he seldom missed +a game, and if the silver ball came into his hands it seldom left them until he brought +it to Sancras churchtown. When hard pressed, as they always were on arriving near +the “gold” (goal) the cry of “Gare teag” (fair play) “for Sancras boys” would be heard +for a mile or more from churchtown, and put them in heart for their last run; while +St. Just men would be calling “One and ale (all) for Santusters,” as they came down +round the Bickan to cut off their opponents, if they could, as their last hope. But +that they could seldom do. Then, after resting awhile, with his comrades, he steered +his course for Sellan, where he lived with an uncle, or grandfather, one old Uter +Bossence. “I can’t say how long we stayed in the comfortable old public house, I’m +sure,” said the hurler, “for we were all so happy together and loath to part; those +from a distance just stepped in, had a drink, and away; at such times, too, the usually +quiet old inn would wake up an be all alive for a bit. Then the ‘tenders’ (waiters) +on coming into the rooms with pewter flagons of foaming ale would sing out, ‘The bird +in hand, my dears; we can’t stay to use the chalk!’ A fluttering bird with his legs +grasped by a hand, was painted on the old signboard, and under this picture the couplet:— +</p> +<div class="lgouter"> +<p class="line">‘A bird in hand is better fare +</p> +<p class="line">Than two that in the bushes are.’ ”</p> +</div> +<p class="first">The old man went on to say how every now and then, he got piskey-led on his way home +to Sellan. As sure as he missed the church-road he would be led miles about, round +and round the same field, ere he could find it again. If he left the field he seldom +knew where he was again before the break o’ day, and then was most likely to find +himself near Brane Rings (Caer Brane) instead of on the other side of churchtown. +Near the Rings piskey would leave him, laughing like nothing else but a piskey! +<span class="pageNum" id="pb182">[<a href="#pb182">182</a>]</span></p> +<p>When once inside the Castle enclosure, he lay down and slept soundly till sunrise +or after. For everybody knew that anywhere within the Rings on Brane hill, the same +as at <span class="corr" id="xd33e4168" title="Source: Bartiney">Bartinney</span>, nothing evil that wanders the earth by night could harm them. They meant spirits +of the Bucka-boo (<i>dhu</i>) tribe. Small people (fairies) are friendly to man and beast, unless interfered with, +and Brane Rings was one of their haunts. +</p> +<p>If he wanted to get home early and tried to break through the fog, which always surrounds +a piskey, he would oftener find himself in broad daylight, down by Chappel Uny than +over in Sellan. Sometimes, however, when by bad luck the ball was carried off to another +parish, he was ready, on returning homeward, to drop down and sleep in a pool of water. +“At such times,” said he, “I tumbled into the first house I came by, no matter where +’twas, for in these times, a Bossence was home anywhere in Sancras or Santust either.” +Just as soon as he lay down—whether in bed, among the hay, or elsewhere,—the Hilla +would be on him and lay with such a dead weight that he could neither move hand nor +foot, nor call for help if it were to save his life, which seemed to be almost squeezed +out of him sometimes. When the Hilla left he came to himself and found all about him +wet with sweat. “And I felt as sore,” said the old hurler in conclusion, “as if I’d +ben thrashed with a thrashal on a barn-boards; then, when I cud, I stretched myself +in the sunshine on the bare ground, for there’s nothing like the sun and earth for +healing the bruises in one’s flesh and getting the pain out of one’s bones; and I’m +sure as I’m speakan to thee, my son, that the Hilla was nothan else but the same cussed +piskey, in another form; and older and wiser people say the same thing.” +</p> +<p>Only a few weeks since an elderly native of St. Just told me he had often heard his +father say that people who were subject to the Hilla, or feared it, were in the habit +of taking to bed with them a couple of forks, one of which was placed on either side +within reach of the hand. If the troubled person could stretch his or her arms, or +only one arm, and touch a fork with one finger even, that instant the Hilla would +decamp; for this sprite, like all other evil ones, feared cold iron so much that the +Hilla-ridden never had the chance to stab the thing. +</p> +<p>The elder St. Just man did not know for certain about the Hilla’s form, as it was +never seen; yet, from the feeling on the breast, or whatever it was, people said it +was a great hairy thing which lay on them with a dead weight that almost stopped their +breathing. +</p> +<p>The “Stag” is a lighter creature of the same class. People whose rest has only been +slightly troubled say they only had the “Stag” and not the “Hilla,” by good luck. +<span class="pageNum" id="pb183">[<a href="#pb183">183</a>]</span></p> +</div> +</div> +<div id="ch78" class="div1 chapter"><span class="pageNum">[<a title="Go to the table of contents" href="#xd33e646">Contents</a>]</span><div class="divHead"> +<h2 class="main">THE ANCIENT CORNISH LANGUAGE IN THE COLONIES.</h2> +</div> +<div class="divBody"> +<p class="first">Cornishmen’s clannish propensities are well known and are most apparent when they +meet in foreign lands. At the gold-fields of Australia, as elsewhere, they stand by +and support each other “through thick and thin.” Cornishmen are also preferred for +many kinds of work which require some degree of engineering skill, and they seldom +undertake any employment for which they are incompetent. Consequently, many persons +from other shires who have never been west of the Tamar try to pass themselves off +as Cornishmen, and sometimes succeed in being received into the fellowship of “One +and All.” If, however, the stranger be suspected of “sailing under false colours,” +when they are all in familiar chat about nothing in particular, “Cousin Jackey” will +take occasion to say to the new chum “My dear; ded ’e ever see a duck <i>klunk a gay</i>?” If the stranger be up to the intent of the question he will probably reply, “Learn +thy granny to lap ashes,” which is the West Country equivalent for teaching the same +venerable dame to suck eggs; but, if ignorant of what the question means, he is given +to understand that they regard him as an interloper and will be no more deceived by +him than a duck can be made to <i>klunk</i> (swallow) a <i>gay</i> (fragment of broken crockery.) +</p> +<p>The proverbial saying of “nobody ever saw a duck klunk a gay”—meaning that no one +will be deceived beyond a certain point—may be puzzling to some Cornish readers as +well as to strangers; those, however, who are country-born and bred remember that +when children they often left the table with their meals unfinished and ran out with +their morsels in their hands and their “gays” in their pockets, eager to join their +playmates in the town-place; and how the village ducks—knowing the childrens’ custom—gathered +around them to pick up the crumbs, or to snatch the food from the childrens’ hands, +and the urchins often tossed them a “gay,” which the greedy fowl gobble up and drop, +one after the other, but never swallow. It is a comical sight to see how the ducks, +on having discovered the cheat, look askaunt at the “didjan” of broken clome, shaking +their tails and quacking in anger or scorn the while. +</p> +<p>The Gileadites’ Shibboleth served much the same purpose in the <span class="pageNum" id="pb184">[<a href="#pb184">184</a>]</span>times of the Judges of Israel as the old proverb does to-day among Cornishmen abroad. +(Judges xii chap., 5 and 6 verses.) +</p> +<p>The usual test above-mentioned fails sometimes, chiefly from young Cornishmen making +comrades of strangers, as they are apt to do for short spells, in which case they +have other tests for the next opportunity, but all turn on the same idea—that of using +words only understood by themselves. One more will serve as an example. +</p> +<p>A Cornishman will come behind the stranger who wishes to pass for a genuine Cornubian +and say, quite natural-like, “Mate! there’s a green <i>myryan</i> on thy <i>nudack</i>.” The venomous bite or sting of a green myryan (ant) being much dreaded, a Cornishman +would either put his hand to the nape of his neck, to brush it off, or show in some +way that he understood the meaning—looking “as dazed as a duck against (on hearing) +thunder” the while. +</p> +</div> +</div> +<div id="ch79" class="div1 chapter"><span class="pageNum">[<a title="Go to the table of contents" href="#xd33e652">Contents</a>]</span><div class="divHead"> +<h2 class="main">ACCORDING HOW ET MAY DROP.</h2> +</div> +<div class="divBody"> +<p class="first">Shortly after Jackey came a-courting, one Sunday afternoon, his sweetheart placed +on the board all she required for making a heavy cake. Last thing, before mixing flour +and cream, she took a hearty pinch of snuff and wiped her fingers on her “touser.” +Whilst making the cake, she said to Jackey, “thee hast been courtan me now for years, +off and on, and always promised thee west marry me soon; now west a marry me before +Christmas?” Whilst the woman was talking and working up the cake, Jackey noticed a +snuffy drop quivering on the tip of her nose. “Can’t tell thee yet,” Jackey replied, +“es accordan how a may drop.” An instant after he stamped away to the door, and turning +round, called out, “No! I’ll neither marry thee before Christmas nor after, nor eat +any more cakes of thy makean.” How it dropped was made plain enough by Jackey’s behaviour. +<span class="pageNum" id="pb185">[<a href="#pb185">185</a>]</span></p> +</div> +</div> +<div id="ch80" class="div1 chapter"><span class="pageNum">[<a title="Go to the table of contents" href="#xd33e658">Contents</a>]</span><div class="divHead"> +<h2 class="main">CORNISH WORDS IN USE.</h2> +<h2 class="sub">“SA! SA!”</h2> +</div> +<div class="divBody"> +<p class="first">The exclamation “Sa!” which is frequently heard in the country, and sometimes in town, +is probably the old Cornish word <i>sa</i>, “stand!” It has continued in use, though its meaning has been forgotten. It is employed +instead of “stand still!” “hold!” “avast!” “enough!” and such-like words, uttered +in haste to arrest speech or action. Its usage, however, will <span class="corr" id="xd33e4215" title="Source: be be">be</span> best shown by a few familiar examples. +</p> +<p>In all parts of the country hereabouts, it is spoken to a restless cow to bid her +be still whilst milked,—“Sa! Molly! sa!” Very likely most words used to cattle and +poultry are ancient Cornish, and had meanings, now lost. “Sa, sa! eat petats, let +the crust for supper!” is a saying often addressed to persons who want to enjoy all +their good things at once. It is suggested by the well-known potato-pie with its substantial +roll of crust and the custom of reserving a good portion of the latter, to serve, +instead of cake for supper. +</p> +<p>A short time ago, a butcher belonging to a western town had a horse of an uncertain +age and no remarkable qualities; yet the owner was always “cracking it up” as the +best beast in town, of its size—equally good for saddle and harness; sure-footed, +staunch to collar, and so on. He also gave his fellow tradesmen to understand that +anyone who coveted this choice animal must pay a good sum to tempt him to part with +it. For a few days, butchers in surrounding stalls, to their surprise, heard no mention +of the famous horse; then they learnt that it had changed owners, and for a lower +price than it was expected the seller would have accepted. Butchers in general are +much given to banter, and those of the town in question, liking this pastime very +much, renewed their jibes by telling the seller of Dobbin that if he had at first +only asked a fair price for his horse he would have got much more for it. One of them +remarked that what he had stated in favour of the beast was as near the truth as could +be expected from a jockey, and nearer than the owner knew of. Another, who was two +or three stalls off, bellowed, “Aye by golls!<a class="noteRef" id="xd33e4221src" href="#xd33e4221" title="Go to note 1.">1</a> He <span class="pageNum" id="pb186">[<a href="#pb186">186</a>]</span>nearly told the truth, for a wonder, but all through’s ign’rance.” In short, they +tried to persuade the seller that he had made a bad bargain, though they knew the +horse had fetched its full value, or more. The jockey-butcher sat listening to the +others’ jeers with good humour, or returning them in the same vein, till, becoming +tired of their long harping on the same string he sprang up, and shouted, “Sa! sa! +lev’n go, es dry eatan” (let him go, he is dry eating), “as the old man said for the +hare.” +</p> +<p>The (native?) fable, or story from which our jolly butcher took his apt reply, runs +thus:— +</p> +<p>An old couple lived all alone in a little old house “out by night” (an out-of-the-way +place). The old woman was constantly in a bad temper, because a hare got into their +garden and ate the cabbages; she scolded and tormented her old man all day long because +he didn’t build the garden hedges higher, or do something else to keep the hare out. +To all her aggravating “jaw,” he would only reply, “Sa, sa, dear, when that hare es +fat enow we’ll have a good pie.” One Saturday night, accordingly, he set a jin among +the cabbages. On Sunday morning he got up by break o’ day, and ran out to see if the +hare were “come to trap.” There it was, a fine one, caught by a fore leg. The old +man, overjoyed by his good luck, without stopping to take up the hare, ran in, calling +to his wife all the way, “come ’e along out, my dear; be quick; and see what a capital +pie we shall have for dinner to-day.” She tore out in great “stroath” (confused haste), +slipped on her clogs, crossed the garden, and got to the trap before her old man; +but all she saw of the hare was a fore foot in the jin, and the white of its tail +passing through a hole in the hedge, as it scampered off. The hare, on hearing the +old woman’s clogs coming clap-a-clap among the cabbages, gave a twist, severed a bit +of skin, which alone held it; the trap in closing had broken the bone. “That’s like +thee, thee old buffle-head,” screamed she, “not to take up the hare at once and bring +am in, instead of hobblan away to bring me out, draglan through the dew to catch my +death this cold mornan, all undressed as I am; and that while, the hare, twistan and +turnan, broke’s leg and es gone.” +</p> +<p>“Sa! sa!” said the old man, “lev’n go, es dry eatan.” +</p> +<p></p> +<div class="figure p186width"><img src="images/p186.png" alt="Three piskies riding a horse, hanging on its manes." width="265" height="173"></div><p> +<span class="pageNum" id="pb187">[<a href="#pb187">187</a>]</span></p> +</div> +<div class="footnotes"> +<hr class="fnsep"> +<div class="footnote-body"> +<div class="fndiv" id="xd33e4221"> +<p class="footnote"><span class="fnlabel"><a class="noteRef" href="#xd33e4221src" title="Return to note 1 in text.">1</a></span> “Golls” or “gollies” is the Phœnician name for Hercules, according to the Rev. Mr. +Hogg, in his <i>Fabulous History of Cornwall</i>, so that the use of the term, vulgar as it may appear to some, connects the butcher +of our narrative with a favourite deity of the Phœnicians. <a class="fnarrow" href="#xd33e4221src" title="Return to note 1 in text.">↑</a></p> +</div> +</div> +</div> +</div> +<div id="ch81" class="div1 chapter"><span class="pageNum">[<a title="Go to the table of contents" href="#xd33e664">Contents</a>]</span><div class="divHead"> +<h2 class="main">CORNISH OBSERVANCES WITH REGARD TO THE SUN AND MOON.</h2> +</div> +<div class="divBody"> +<p class="first">Only a few years ago elderly farmers of the Land’s End district commenced the breaking +of grass land with a sort of religious solemnity, to bring it into its three years’ +course of tillage. On entering the field, the cattle, attached to the plough, were +turned towards the west; and the ploughman saying, “In the name of God let’s begin,” +proceeded with the course of the sun to “break ground” by turning a few yards of sod +in that direction; afterwards the field might be ploughed towards any point that was +convenient. +</p> +<p>The same rite was observed by some on beginning to plough an arable field; and when +they commenced to sow a few handfuls of grain were cast round—with the same formality—from +east to west, for luck. Following the sun’s course in several other kinds of work +was also regarded as a means of ensuring success. +</p> +<p>Dairy-women always place their pans of milk so that they shall be skimmed, in turn, +going with the sun, or from left to right. The scalded or clouted cream, for making +butter, being placed in a shallow tub, is stirred round with the hand, or a wooden +peel, in the direction of the sun’s course; if turned in a reverse manner, butter +cannot be properly made—so it is believed. Young people dance round the Midsummer’s +bonfire in the same order; if any of them take the wrong course it is believed, or +at least said, they will die unmarried. When the bonfire has burned sufficiently low, +old and young leap through the flames towards the place of the setting sun. +</p> +<p>In the spring, people visit a “Pellar” (conjuror) as soon as there is “twelve hours’ +sun,” to have “their protection renewed,” that is, to be provided with charms; and +the wise man’s good offices to ward off, for the ensuing year, all evil influences +of beings who work in darkness. The reason assigned for observing this particular +time is, that “when the sun is come back the Pellar has more power to goodé” (do good). +</p> +<p>In curing diseases, charms are worked against the sun to backen the complaint. Ricketty +children bathed in a holy well on the three Wednesdays in May, are dipped thrice and +taken round the spring as often against the sun’s course. For the cure of boils or +<span class="pageNum" id="pb188">[<a href="#pb188">188</a>]</span>eruptions, the afflicted crawl nine times from east to west, under a bramble, rooted +at both ends. Many other examples might be given of practices regarding the sun, but +are much to the same effect. +</p> +<p>One may notice a remarkable belief, however, that if a person, by false swearing, +compasses the life of another, the sun is thereafter invisible to the perjured one. +This idea is so well known that to hint at a person’s inability to behold the sun +is regarded as a great insult. +</p> +<p>An observance with regard to the moon may be here mentioned. Most folks are acquainted +with a practice called “washing in a dry dish,” for the cure of warts and other ailments. +To get rid of warts on the hands they are shown the moon nine times on three successive +nights before full moon; three times on the full, at intervals of three quarters of +an hour; and thrice afterwards, on three following nights. On each occasion the patient, +or rather the supplicant, looks from the moon to his hands, and from his hands to +the moon—whilst rubbing them together as if washing them—and holds them towards the +moon nine times, saying:— +</p> +<div class="lgouter"> +<p class="line">“I wash my hands in this thy dish, +</p> +<p class="line">O, Man in the Moon, do grant my wish, +</p> +<p class="line">And come take away this.”</p> +</div> +<p class="first">For the cure of various other ailments this charm is worked in much the same way. +The above-mentioned remnants of Zabaism are suggestive of Phœnician tin-traders’ connection +with old Bellerion. +</p> +<hr class="tb"><p> +</p> +<p>There are many ancient beliefs and practices with respect to the moon still lingering +in West Cornwall, which seem to be almost forgotten elsewhere. The following are a +few examples amongst many. +</p> +<p>Herbs for drying, to be used in fomentation, or for other medicinal purposes, are +gathered at the full of the moon; when winter’s fruit should also be picked and stored, +in order that it may retain its plumpness. Elderly persons prefer to sow their garden +seeds and others during the moon’s first quarter, from the idea that they will then +germinate quicker and grow stronger than on the decrease. +</p> +<p>Timber should be felled on the “bating” of the moon, because the “sap is then down,” +and the wood will be more durable. +</p> +<p>When the old iron “chills” (lamps) were in general use, rushes for making “porvans” +(wicks) were cut at the full moon, because it was believed that they were then fuller +of pith and less liable to shrink than if cut at other times. +</p> +<p>Old gentlemen who wore their hair long behind, or in “pigtails <span class="pageNum" id="pb189">[<a href="#pb189">189</a>]</span>or queues,” and other persons as well, of that day, were very particular about having +their heads trimmed at the time of full moon, that their hair might grow the more +luxuriantly. +</p> +<p>The first money taken of a market-day is still frequently spit on for good luck; and +if silver, kept for luck-money, to be shown to the next new moon, and turned three +times towards the person who shows it. Three wishes were made whilst showing the money, +which the wisher turned three times from the moon towards himself. +</p> +<p>It is considered unlucky to get the first sight of a new moon through glass, and many +persons go out of doors purposely to see her for the first time, when they hold towards +her a piece of silver to ensure their success whilst that moon lasts. Those who offer +this kind of adoration to Luna are mostly provided with a crooked sixpence, which +they call a pocket-piece, and wear as a means to retain good luck. This observance +of showing money to the new moon is, probably, a vestige of an ancient rite connected +with the worship of Luna or Astarte. +</p> +<p>Another belief, which still holds good, is that when a child is born in the interval +between an old moon and the first appearance of a new one, it will never live to attain +to puberty. A recent observation confirms this as well to animals as children. Hence +the saying of “no moon no man.” Other popular notions, among old folks, are that when +a boy is born on the waning moon the next birth will be a girl, and <i>vice versâ</i>; they also say that when a birth takes place on the “growing of the moon,” the next +child will be of the same sex. Many of these fancies, however, may be astrological +notions, handed down from ancient times and common to many places. Here much of such +lore has been learnt from Sibley’s “Treatise on the Occult Sciences,” which is the +oracle of our western astrologers; though they seldom let their study of that and +similar works be known for fear of the ridicule with which it is now the fashion to +regard such pursuits. +</p> +<p></p> +<div class="figure p189width"><img src="images/p189.png" alt="Star of David with the word “abracadabra” and alchemist symbols." width="209" height="224"></div><p> +<span class="pageNum" id="pb190">[<a href="#pb190">190</a>]</span></p> +</div> +</div> +<div id="ch82" class="div1 chapter"><span class="pageNum">[<a title="Go to the table of contents" href="#xd33e670">Contents</a>]</span><div class="divHead"> +<h2 class="main">CORNISH CONJURORS’ CHARMS AGAINST WITCHCRAFT.</h2> +</div> +<div class="divBody"> +<p class="first">The following are some of the spells supplied by West Country “Pellars” to those who +seek their protection, as stated in a notice of “Cornish Observances with regard to +the Sun.” +</p> +<p>A strip of parchment, inscribed with the words SATOR AREPO TENET OPERA ROTAS, is regarded +as a protection from many evils when worn as an amulet; all the more so because these +magical words read the same backwards as forwards. These words also form a magical +square, and can be read up or down, backwards or forwards, or any way—thus +</p> +<div class="table"> +<table> +<tr> +<td class="cell-left cell-top">S </td> +<td class="cell-top">A </td> +<td class="cell-top">T </td> +<td class="cell-top">O </td> +<td class="cell-right cell-top">R</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="cell-left">A </td> +<td>R </td> +<td>E </td> +<td>P </td> +<td class="cell-right">O</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="cell-left">T </td> +<td>E </td> +<td>N </td> +<td>E </td> +<td class="cell-right">T</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="cell-left">O </td> +<td>P </td> +<td>E </td> +<td>R </td> +<td class="cell-right">A</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="cell-left cell-bottom">R </td> +<td class="cell-bottom">O </td> +<td class="cell-bottom">T </td> +<td class="cell-bottom">A </td> +<td class="cell-right cell-bottom">S</td> +</tr> +</table> +</div><p> +</p> +<p>At the time of an old lady’s decease, a little while ago, on her breast was found +a small silk bag containing various charms; among others, a piece of parchment, about +three inches square, having written on one side of it NALGAH. Under this is a pen-and-ink +drawing of a figure somewhat like a bird, with two pairs of wings, a pair extended +and the others folded beneath them. The creature appears to be hovering, and at the +same time brooding on a large egg, sustained by one of its legs; whilst it holds a +smaller egg at the extremity of its other leg, which is outstretched and long. Its +head, round and small, is unlike that of a bird; from the rudeness of the sketch, +and its faded state, it is difficult to trace all the outlines. Under this singular +figure is the word TETRAGRAMMATON. On the reverse, in large letters, +</p> +<ul> +<li>JEHOVAH</li> +<li>JAH, ELOHIM,</li> +<li>SHADDAY,</li> +<li>ADONAY,</li> +<li>HAVE MERCY ON A POOR WOMAN.</li> +</ul><p> +<span class="pageNum" id="pb191">[<a href="#pb191">191</a>]</span></p> +<p>A Pellar of great repute in this neighbourhood tells me, however, that this precious +document is inscribed with two distinct charms—that the Nalgah is the figure only. +</p> +<p>The <span class="ex">ABRACADABRA</span> is supplied by our “white-witches” for the cure or prevention of some diseases; the +letters, arranged in the usual way, are enclosed in two intersecting triangles. +</p> +<p>Another potent spell is a rude draft of the planetary signs for the Sun, Jupiter, +and Venus, followed by a cross, pentagram, and a figure formed by a perpendicular +line, and a divergent one on each side of it, united at the bottom. Under them is +written, “Whosoever beareth these tokens will be fortunate and need fear no evil.” +</p> +<p>The charms are folded in a paper on which is usually written, “By the help of the +Lord these will do thee good,” and enclosed in a little bag to be worn on the breast. +Bed-ridden folks have them placed in their pillows, and the conjurors visit such infirm +ones yearly to “renew their protection.” +</p> +<p>Western Pellars are ignorant of the meaning of the above formulas, but regard them +as powerful words and signs that have been handed down from wise men of ancient times +who followed a like profession. +</p> +<p>There is one practitioner in the vicinity of Penzance who is well versed in Astrology, +from having made this science the study of a long life. +</p> +<p>Besides the above-mentioned counter spells to sorcery and other mysterious evils, +persons are furnished with witch powders, to be cast over such children or cattle +as may be ill-wished, begrudged, or “over-looked;” with regard to the latter, holding +two forked (spread) fingers towards a person that has evil eyes, is believed to be +a safeguard from their blasting influence. +</p> +<p>A short time ago one might obtain blood-stones, milpreves, or snake-stones, but these +are become rare; the blue stone or glass rings, in which were seen the figure of an +adder, or the pattern of a snake, were much prized, because it was believed that those +who wore them were by that means safe from being harmed by any of the serpent tribe, +and that man or beast having been stung, if given water to drink wherein this stone +had been infused, would soon recover from the poison. +</p> +<p>Cornish folks have such confidence in their conjurors’ mysterious science, that many +go a great distance to consult them, and the mere threat of “going to the Pellar” +is often sufficient to procure the restitution of stolen goods, or compensation for +injury; and, after all, their remedies may be as beneficial as those usually prescribed +for imaginary ailments. +<span class="pageNum" id="pb192">[<a href="#pb192">192</a>]</span></p> +<p>Most Cornish folks are familiar with the following lines, or others of the same import:— +</p> +<div class="lgouter"> +<p class="line">Born on a Sunday a gentleman. +</p> +<p class="line">Monday’s child is fair in face. +</p> +<p class="line">Tuesday’s child is full of grace. +</p> +<p class="line">Wednesday’s child is sour and sad. +</p> +<p class="line">Thursday’s child is merry and glad. +</p> +<p class="line">Friday’s child is loving and giving. +</p> +<p class="line">Saturday’s child works hard for its living.</p> +</div> +<p class="first">Another version says— +</p> +<div class="lgouter"> +<p class="line">Wednesday’s child <span class="corr" id="xd33e4377" title="Source: if">is</span> full of woe. +</p> +<p class="line">Thursday’s child has far to go.</p> +</div> +<p class="first">The assumed principles of astrology furnish a key to the above; as the subject is +supposed to be influenced according to the nature of the planet or divinity after +whom the day is named, and which is regarded in medical astrology, as lord of the +first house for the respective day. +</p> +</div> +</div> +<div id="ch83" class="div1 chapter"><span class="pageNum">[<a title="Go to the table of contents" href="#xd33e676">Contents</a>]</span><div class="divHead"> +<h2 class="main">ALL ON ONE SIDE, LIKE SMOOTHY’S WEDDING.</h2> +</div> +<div class="divBody"> +<p class="first">Some eighty or ninety years ago a male member of a well-known family was about to +be married. He was a soft-spoken individual, and, in the days when nearly every one +had a nickname, he was called and known generally as “Smoothy.” When the wedding-day +came it was found that all the invited guests were his relatives and friends—not one +the bride’s. Hence the saying. +</p> +<p>“All on one side, like Smoothy’s wedding,” is often applied to cases of biassed judgment, +or an unfair award from a prejudiced view of the subject. +</p> +<p>“Smoothy” is a nickname commonly given to a double-faced, fair-spoken hypocrite,—one +who runs with the hare and holds with the hounds. +<span class="pageNum" id="pb193">[<a href="#pb193">193</a>]</span></p> +</div> +</div> +<div id="ch84" class="div1 chapter"><span class="pageNum">[<a title="Go to the table of contents" href="#xd33e682">Contents</a>]</span><div class="divHead"> +<h2 class="main">PISKIES, SPRIGGANS, SMALL PEOPLE, AND KNOCKERS.</h2> +</div> +<div class="divBody"> +<p class="first">According to the Fairy belief of the old Cornish folk, the Piskey has seldom been +seen in any other shape than that of a weird, wizzened-looking, little old man. As +such he has often been spied of moonlight winter’s nights threshing the corn in the +barns of lonely places. Boslow and Lejarn are often spoken of as being favourite haunts +of the goblin. Another of his well-known pranks is to mount on the necks of the colts, +where he plaits his Piskey stirrups in the winter, and rides the colts after the cows +like mad in the summer. Leading the folks into the bogs, by appearing like a person +with a lantern or light from a window, were of constant occurrence unless the night +wanderer took the precaution to turn some garment inside out, to break the spell. +</p> +<p>The Spriggans, quite a different class of beings, are the <i>dourest</i> and most ugly set of sprights belonging to the elfin tribe; they are only seen about +old ruins, barrows, giant’s quoits and castles, or other places where treasure is +buried, of which they have the charge. They also steal children, leaving their own +ugly brats in their place, bring bad weather to blight the crops, whirlwinds over +the fields of cut corn, and do much other mischief to those who meddle with their +favourite haunts. +</p> +<p>The innocent Small-people, on the contrary, are always described as being extremely +beautiful by all who have had the luck to see them, holding their merry fairs and +sprightly dances on the velvety turf of the greens, sheltered glades between the cairns, +or in other secluded pleasant places, dressed in their bright green nether garments, +sky-blue jackets, three-cornered hats on the men and pointed ones on the ladies, all +decked with lace and silver bells. They are as lovely as the flowers of the fields. +These good small folks often showed great kindness to those people to whom they took +a fancy, and have frequently been known to come into poor cottages, divert good old +bed-ridden folks with their merry pranks and gambols, and fill the air with the delicious +odours of flowers, and such sweet melody as few but angels ever hear and live. +</p> +<p>The Bockles, or Knockers, can scarcely be classed as fairies; they seem rather to +be a hybrid race between ordinary ghosts and elves, as the miners believe them to +be the restless souls of the Jews who formerly worked in the tin-mines of Cornwall. +The <span class="pageNum" id="pb194">[<a href="#pb194">194</a>]</span>tinners often hear them working when underground; sometimes, these ghostly workers +may be heard even from the surface; yet they so rarely make their appearance now that +we hardly know what they are like. +</p> +<p>There are a few other mythical beings belonging to our elvin creed, but they have +been so seldom seen of latter days, that very little is now known of the Buccas, Browneys, +Mermaids, &c. Probably the mermaids so much dislike steam ships that the fair syrens +have taken themselves off, with all their combs and glasses, to the China seas, so +as to be out of the way of the fiery monsters of the deep. +</p> +<p></p> +<div class="figure p194width"><img src="images/p194.png" alt="Woman aiming sword next to long-haired goat, with house in the background." width="222" height="243"></div><p> +<span class="pageNum" id="pb195">[<a href="#pb195">195</a>]</span></p> +</div> +</div> +<div id="ch85" class="div1 last-child chapter"><span class="pageNum">[<a title="Go to the table of contents" href="#xd33e688">Contents</a>]</span><div class="divHead"> +<h2 class="main">OLD CORNISH WORDS.</h2> +</div> +<div class="divBody"> +<p class="first">Strangers are often puzzled to know what we Cornish people mean by some of our words. +Let us take some old Cornish words still in common use, as <i>skaw</i> for the elder-tree; <i>skaw-dower</i>, water-elder; <i>bannel</i>, broom; <i>skedgewith</i>, privet; <i>griglans</i>, heath; <i>padzy-paw</i> (from padzar, four), the small grey lizard; <i>muryan</i>, the ant; <i>quilkan</i>, the frog (which retains its English name when in the water); <i>pul-cronack</i> (literally pool-toad) is the name given to a small fish with a head much like that +of a toad, which is often found in the pools (<i>pulans</i>) left by the receding tide among the rocks along shore; <i>visnan</i>, the sand-lance; <i>bul-horn</i>, the shell-snail; <i>dumble-dory</i>, the black-beetle (but this may be a corruption of the dor-beetle). A small, solid +wheel has still the old name of <i>drucshar</i>. Finely pulverized soil is called <i>grute</i>. The roots and other light matter harrowed up on the surface of the ground for burning +we call <i>tabs</i>. <i>Guldaize</i>, harvest feast. <i>Plum</i> means soft; <i>quail</i>, withered; <i>crum</i>, crooked; <i>bruyans</i>, crumbs; with a few other terms more rarely used. +</p> +<p>Many of our ordinary expressions (often mistaken for vulgar provincialisms) are French +words slightly modified, which were probably introduced into the west by the old Norman +families who long resided there. For instance; a large apron to come quite round, +worn for the sake of keeping the under clothing clean, is called a <i>touser</i> (<i lang="fr">tout serre</i>); a game of running romps, is a <i>courant</i> (from <i>courir</i>). Very rough play is a regular <i>cow’s courant</i>. Going into a neighbour’s for a spell of friendly chat is going to <i>cursey</i> (<i>couser</i>) a bit. The loins are called the <i>cheens</i> (old French, <i lang="fr">echine</i>.) The plant sweet-leaf, a kind of St. John’s wort, here called <i>tutsen</i>, is the French <i lang="fr">toute saine</i> (heal all). There are some others which, however, are not peculiar to the west, as +<i>kick-shaws</i> (<i lang="fr">quelque chose</i>), &c. We have also many inverted words, as <i>swap</i> for wasp, <i>cruds</i> for curds, &c. Then again we call a fly a <i>flea</i>; and a flea a <i>flay</i>; and the smallest stream of water a <i>river</i>. +</p> +<p><i>Ishan</i> is a genuine old Cornish word; it is only given to such dust as comes from winnowing, +the result of which process is husks, chaff, &c. +</p> +<p>Refuse, consisting of defective grains, seeds, &c., on the “tail” (leeward end) of +a winnowing sheet, was, by old “winsters,” called <i>attal</i>. +<span class="pageNum" id="pb196">[<a href="#pb196">196</a>]</span></p> +<p>Harvest-time reminds one of our free-hearted old farmers and their bountiful <i>goolthise</i>, at which all comers were welcome to eat, drink, and be merry. This name for an entertainment +given on the principal corn-carrying day—generally the last—is preserved from our +ancient language. +</p> +<p>In Scilly a harvest feast is called <i>Nicklethise</i>. +</p> +<p>In addition to the above we have the following terms connected with harvest work and +the preparation of corn for mill or market. <i>Dram</i>, a swathe of cut corn; <i>croust</i>, the afternoon’s refreshment, generally of hot <i>fuggans</i> (cakes) and ale (Latin <i lang="la">crusta</i>). +</p> +<p><i>Collebrands</i>, defective and smutty ears, supposed to be blighted by the fine weather lightning, +called by the same name. +</p> +<p><i>Pederack</i> and <i>brummal</i>, arish mows. The former is conical in shape, with the ear ends of all the sheaves +turned inward and upwards; the latter, which is also called a <i>culver-house</i> mow, is in shape much like an old-fashioned, round, stone-built pigeon-house; having +the part which answers to a culver-house roof finished with the sheaves turned, ear +end, downwards and outwards. A <i>brummal</i> mow is the best for continued moist weather, because the ears on a mow-top are less +liable to sprout when reversed. An ill-shaped, bulging <i>pederack</i> mow is said, in derision, to be “like an old culver-house,” by those who don’t know +what the object of their comparison means. +</p> +<p><i>Brummal</i> is so much like a Gallic name for the sort of weather we call <i>slaggy</i> (full of misty rain), that they are, probably, offshoots from the same old root. +</p> +<p><i>Colp</i>, a short rope for carrying sheaves from a mow-hay to the barn; also a blow. <i>Keveran</i>, a strip of hide or leather which unites the two sticks of a “threshal” (flail) here +called the “hand staff and slash-staff.” <i>Liners</i>, threshed wheaten sheaves. <i>Kayer</i>, a coarse sieve (probably a modern corruption of <i>Cadar a-Chair</i>, <i>e.g.</i>, <i>Cader Michel</i>; St. Michael’s Chair on St. Michael’s Mount). <i>Layer</i>, a winnowing-sheet. To <i>reeve</i>, to separate with a fine sieve, small corn, seeds, &c., from the good grain. +</p> +<p>Most West Country folk use many other words connected with husbandry which sound very +unlike English, and are unknown in the eastern part of the county, as <i>Colpas</i>, anything which serves as a prop, or an underset, to a crowbar, or other object when +used as a lever. <i>Visgey</i> (mutation for <i>Pigol</i>), a large pick, or mattock; <i>tubble</i> is another name for the same. <i>Piggal</i>, a beat-axe. <i>Monger</i>, a straw horse-collar, &c., &c. +<span class="pageNum" id="pb197">[<a href="#pb197">197</a>]</span></p> +</div> +</div> +</div> +<div class="back"> +<div id="ch86" class="div1 glossary"><span class="pageNum">[<a title="Go to the table of contents" href="#xd33e694">Contents</a>]</span><div class="divHead"> +<h2 class="main">GLOSSARY OF LOCAL WORDS.</h2> +<ul> +<li><i>Aree faa</i>, exclamation: “dear me.”</li> +<li><i>Bal</i>, a mine.</li> +<li><i>Bannel</i>, a broom, a yellow flowering shrub.</li> +<li><i>Beety</i>, to mend nets.</li> +<li><i>Benen-vat</i>, a good woman.</li> +<li><i>Benkeyl</i>, a living stream.</li> +<li><i>Ben-ma-brea</i>, woman of my heart.</li> +<li><i>Balsh</i>, small rope.</li> +<li><i>Boobun</i>, wick of the “chill.”</li> +<li><i>Bowjowler</i>, a place in the fishing-boat, to keep the foot-line.</li> +<li><i>Breal</i>, mackerel.</li> +<li><i>Breedy</i>, to make nets, by meshing with needle and pin-roller.</li> +<li><i>Broaze</i>, on the point of boiling.</li> +<li><i>Broazen</i>, briskly; the fire burns briskly.</li> +<li><i>Bruz</i>, small furze; remnants.</li> +<li><i>Bucca-boo</i>, a fool; a bogey.</li> +<li><i>Bussa</i>, a salting pot for meat.</li> +<li><i>Bussa-head</i>, a blockhead.</li> +<li><i>Caboolen</i>, a stone used by seiners.</li> +<li><i>Caboose</i>, portable fishing-boat’s fire-place.</li> +<li><i>Capis</i>, very large meshes in a trammel-net.</li> +<li><span class="corr" id="xd33e4653" title="Added by author"><i>Cavers</i>, the darnel.</span></li> +<li><i>Chea</i>, word used in calling swine to feed.</li> +<li><i>Chea-chanter</i>, hold your tongue.</li> +<li><i>Chill</i>, a lamp.</li> +<li><i>Clibby</i>, sticky, like molasses.</li> +<li><i>Clomb</i>, earthenware.</li> +<li><i>Clunk</i>, to swallow.</li> +<li><i>Cobesta</i>, a part of fishing tackle.</li> +<li><i>Codgy</i> or <i>Clidgy</i>, adhesive; gummy.</li> +<li><i>Coits</i>, a pile of rocks; group of stones.</li> +<li><i>Costan</i>, straw and bramble baskets.</li> +<li><i>Cowal</i>, fish basket, with a band for the head, carried by fishwomen.</li> +<li><i>Cowl</i>, fish-bladder.</li> +<li><i>Cowleck</i>, a glutton.</li> +<li><i>Cravel</i>, mantel-beam.</li> +<li><i>Croggan</i>, limpet-shell.</li> +<li><i>Crowse</i>, refreshment, carried to field in hay, corn, and potato harvests.</li> +<li><i>Crum</i>, crooked.</li> +<li><i>Crush</i>, shrunk with age.</li> +<li><i>Derns</i>, a door-frame.</li> +<li><i>Didgen</i>, a bit; a small portion.</li> +<li><i>Dien</i>, a man.</li> +<li><i>Dowse</i>, to throw on the ground.</li> +<li><i>Dowsing-rod</i>, divining rod, used to discover minerals, water, &c.</li> +<li><i>Drethen</i>, a sand-pot, a sand-area ’neath the sea.</li> +<li><i>Drizzle</i>, small rain.</li> +<li><i>Drizzling-dour</i>, small stream.</li> +<li><i>Enys</i>, an island.</li> +<li><i>Flucan-courses</i>, a term in mining; cross-courses.</li> +<li><i>Freathed out</i>, frayed.</li> +<li><i>Friday cum-sennet</i>, next Friday week<span class="corr" id="xd33e4751" title="Not in source">.</span></li> +<li><i>Fuggan</i>, a cake; dinner cake.</li> +<li><i>Fun</i>, a small kind of rush.</li> +<li><i>Fusy</i>, good.</li> +<li><i>Geek</i>, a sly look; a peep.</li> +<li><i>Ging</i>, to fasten a fish hook to line with wire.</li> +<li><i>Gord</i>, a nine-feet rod to measure land.</li> +<li><i>Griglens</i>, remains of a heath broom.</li> +<li><i>Guldize</i>, harvest home.</li> +<li><i>Gurry</i>, a four-handled barrow with enclosed sides.</li> +<li><i>Gwarrah</i>, the farthest, the most distant.</li> +<li><i>Gweean</i>, perry-winkle.</li> +<li><i>Hayl</i>, a river.</li> +<li><i>Heevil</i>, three-prong fork, a stable implement.</li> +<li><i>Hilla</i>, the nightmare.</li> +<li><i>Hogan</i>, miners’ dinner.</li> +<li><i>Huel</i>, a mine.</li> +<li><i>Ianken</i>, walking quickly.</li> +<li><i>Jonic</i>, fair, straightforward.</li> +<li><i>Jsenequick</i>, italian-iron.</li> +<li><i>Jouder</i>, fish overboiled.</li> +<li><i>Jowdy</i>, to walk in water with boots and stockings on.</li> +<li><i>Kanker</i>, a small crab.</li> +<li><i>Kay-yer</i>, a coarse winnowing machine.</li> +<li><i>Keals</i> (quilles) nine-pins.</li> +<li><i>Keal-alley</i>, a bowling-green.</li> +<li><i>Keddened</i> and <i>Cabageed</i>, booted with mud; dirty.</li> +<li><i>Keg</i>, a dog.</li> +<li><i>Kente-pathen-gy</i>, wooden pins belonging to the stone anchor used in punts.<span class="pageNum" id="pb198">[<a href="#pb198">198</a>]</span></li> +<li><i>Keygans</i>, small refuse roots.</li> +<li><i>Kibbal</i>, a mine bucket.</li> +<li><i>Kibbin</i>, to steal.</li> +<li><i>Kicker</i>, fishing boats’ small mizen sail.</li> +<li><i>Keggil</i>, a piece of wood used by thread-spinners.</li> +<li><i>Kiskey</i>, a rotten stick.</li> +<li><i>Kist-vaen</i>, stone chest.</li> +<li><i>Ku-lar</i>, to lend.</li> +<li><i>Laggen</i>, to splash in the water.</li> +<li><i>Laister</i>, yellow iris, or water flag.</li> +<li><i>Lasking</i>, keep near shore, a term used by fishermen.</li> +<li><i>Lenth</i>, shelter, cover from the weather.</li> +<li><i>Ligge</i>, broth; soup.</li> +<li><i>Ludras</i>, a frame for the (<i>Killick</i>).</li> +<li><i>Meanolas</i>, a <span class="corr" id="xd33e4890" title="Source: fire place">fire-place</span>, a square box made of stones and clay, made by fishermen.</li> +<li><i>Midge-go-morrah</i>, hesitation, doubt, excuse.</li> +<li><i>Miggle-cum-par</i>, mixed fuel—a term used in swine feeding; confusion, a mixture.</li> +<li><i>Minch</i>, to play truant—shun school.</li> +<li><i>Moppeneede</i>, hide and go seek, a game.</li> +<li><i>Mowaz</i>, a maid.</li> +<li><i>More</i>, the root.</li> +<li><i>Muryan</i>, an ant, emmet.</li> +<li><i>Nacken</i>, pocket handkerchief.</li> +<li><i>Nuddick</i>, back part of the neck.</li> +<li><i>Padger-paw</i>, a lizard.</li> +<li><i>Pag-ae</i>, please.</li> +<li><i>Peacher</i>, a lure, an enticement.</li> +<li><i>Pedna-a-mean</i>, heads and tails, a game of pins.</li> +<li><i>Pedn-borbas</i>, cod’s head.</li> +<li><i>Pigal</i>, a farm implement.</li> +<li><i>Piler</i>, a farm implement, used to pound, or cut the beards from barley in winnowing.</li> +<li><i>Pilles</i>, <span class="corr" id="xd33e4946" title="Corrected by author from: gleanings in the harvest-field">naked oats (<i lang="la">avena nuda</i>)</span>.</li> +<li><i>Planchen</i>, wood floor.</li> +<li><i>Podn</i>, mine dust; tailings.</li> +<li><i>Pol</i>, a pool<span class="corr" id="xd33e4961" title="Not in source">.</span></li> +<li><i>Polyn</i>, a stick.</li> +<li><i>Punick</i>, a small person; a dwarf.</li> +<li><i>Purvans</i>, shreds of cotton used in wick-making for a “chill.”</li> +<li><i>Quail</i>, withered.</li> +<li><i>Quilken</i>, a young frog.</li> +<li><i>Raf</i>, refuse, waste.</li> +<li><i>Riggling</i>, cleaning out the fire-place with the poker.</li> +<li><i>Rût</i>, to rub; friction.</li> +<li><i>Scabby-gullion</i>, a stew.</li> +<li><i>Scat</i>, to knock; break to pieces.</li> +<li><i>Schecojan</i>, call; invitation.</li> +<li><i>Scraggen</i>, straggling.</li> +<li><i>Scrof</i>, the refuse.</li> +<li><i>Scroggan</i>, a worthless person.</li> +<li><i>Scud</i>, to spill any liquid.</li> +<li><i>Scruff of the nuddick</i>, nape of the neck.</li> +<li><i>Shong</i>, a broken mesh.</li> +<li><i>Shethen</i>, any thing long; a piece of hake used as bait.</li> +<li><i>Skillet</i>, small tin saucepan.</li> +<li><i>Skubmaw</i>, small parts; bits of wreck<span class="corr" id="xd33e5024" title="Not in source">.</span></li> +<li><i>Slag</i>, small driving rain (drizzle).</li> +<li><i>Slintrim</i>, an incline; going down an incline.</li> +<li><i>Slotter</i>, a sticky wet mess.</li> +<li><i>Stag’d</i>, booted in mud.</li> +<li><i>Stroath</i>, wild haste.</li> +<li><i>Strop</i>, string; a piece of rope.</li> +<li><i>Swap</i>, a wasp.</li> +<li><i>Sabs</i>, to burn tabs,—grass tufts, raked together into piles for burning, in preparing ground +for seed.</li> +<li><i>Tabs</i>, turf, harrowed fine.</li> +<li><i>Thurl</i>, leary.</li> +<li><i>Timmy-noggy</i>, a notched square piece of wood, used to support the lower end of the Vargord.</li> +<li><i>To garm</i>, to shout in anger; scold.</li> +<li><i>Tolyer-predu</i>, baking-dish.</li> +<li><i>Toust</i>, toiled or rumpled.</li> +<li><i>Towse</i>, noise; tumult.</li> +<li><i>Towser</i>, coarse apron.</li> +<li><i>Trantums</i>, friskiness; wildness.</li> +<li><i>Tre</i>, a farm.</li> +<li><i>Tubbal</i>, double ball-pick.</li> +<li><i>Tubban</i>, a tuft of earth.</li> +<li><i>Tummels</i>, large quantity, applied in agriculture to crops of straw and hay.</li> +<li><i>Tut</i>, hassock.</li> +<li><i>Vargord</i>, a spar, used as a foresail; bowline in fishing-boats.</li> +<li><i>Vean</i>, little; “child vean,” little child; kerris vean, little kerris; treveneth vean, +&c.</li> +<li><i>Vezy</i>, without; distant; away.</li> +<li><i>Vumfra</i>, blow; a heavy slap.</li> +<li><i>Widden</i>, white.</li> +<li><i>Widdles</i>, nonsense; foolishness; romancing.</li> +<li><i>Whinz</i>, mine-winch.</li> +<li><i>Zawn</i>, a cavern.</li> +<li><i>Zelli</i>, a conger eel.</li> +</ul> +<p><span class="pageNum" id="pb199">[<a href="#pb199">199</a>]</span></p> +</div> +</div> +<div id="ch87" class="div1 subscribers"><span class="pageNum">[<a title="Go to the table of contents" href="#xd33e700">Contents</a>]</span><div class="divHead"> +<h2 class="main">SUBSCRIBERS’ NAMES.</h2> +<ul> +<li>Allen, C. B., Kilburn, London.</li> +<li>Allsop, Miss, Penzance, 3 copies.</li> +<li>Anderson, T., Penzance.</li> +<li>Andrews, William, F.R.H.S., Hull.</li> +<li>Barwis, J. C., Penzance.</li> +<li>Batten, Joseph Childs, London.</li> +<li>Bennett, E. G., Plymouth.</li> +<li>Berryman, Alexander, Penzance.</li> +<li>Blewett, J. P., Penzance.</li> +<li>Boase, Francis, J.P., Penzance, 2 copies.</li> +<li>Boase, Geo., Queen Anne’s Gate, Westminster.</li> +<li>Boase, Rev. Charles W., Exeter College, Oxford.</li> +<li>Bolitho, Mrs. W., Polwithen.</li> +<li>Bolitho, William, Jun., J.P., Ponsandine, 3 copies.</li> +<li>Borlase, John, Castle Horneck.</li> +<li>Borlase, W. C., Larrigan.</li> +<li>Borlase, Rev. William M., Zennor, 2 copies.</li> +<li>Botheras, R. Gorton, Manchester.</li> +<li>Brokenshire, E., Penzance.</li> +<li>Brooks, William, Reigate, Surrey.</li> +<li>Brune, Charles G. Prideaux, Prideaux Place, Padstow, 2 copies.</li> +<li>Carne, Henry, Penzance.</li> +<li>Chevely, J. C., Madron.</li> +<li>Chope, Rev. R. R., Wilton House, London.</li> +<li>Colenso, Richard, 2 copies.</li> +<li>Colenso, W.</li> +<li>Commins, Thos. T., 3, St. Paul’s Churchyard.</li> +<li>Cornish, Miss, Penzance.</li> +<li>Cornish, C. H., Skaton Chapel.</li> +<li>Cornish, Henry R., Penzance.</li> +<li>Cornish, James M., Penzance.</li> +<li>Cornish, Thomas, Penzance, 2 copies<span class="corr" id="xd33e5160" title="Not in source">.</span></li> +<li>Cornish, Thomas R., Buenos Ayres.</li> +<li>Couch, J. Q., M.R.C.S.E., Penzance.</li> +<li>Coulson, J. B., Penzance.</li> +<li>Courtenay, James, Bristol.</li> +<li>Craig, Mrs. S., 11, Parliament Street, Liverpool.</li> +<li>Dent, Mrs., Sudeley Castle, Winchcombe.</li> +<li>Dingley, Mrs., Beachfield House, 2 copies.</li> +<li>Drake, Rev. W. N., Ruan, 2 copies.</li> +<li>Drew, J. E., Penzance.</li> +<li>Fagan, Rev. H. S., St<span class="corr" id="xd33e5173" title="Not in source">.</span> Just Vicarage.</li> +<li>Field, Thomas W., Marazion.</li> +<li>Fisher, Edward, Sidmouth.</li> +<li>Geoffroi, H. M., School of Science and Art, Penzance.</li> +<li>Gilbert, Hon. Mrs., Trelissick.</li> +<li>Green, William, 9, Cullum-street, London, E.C.</li> +<li>Grylls, Thos., Penzance.</li> +<li>Harry, R., London.</li> +<li>Harvey, Miss, Penzance.</li> +<li>Harvey, J. S., Penzance.</li> +<li>Hattam, Thomas, St. Anthony.</li> +<li>Hosking, Samuel, Bank Buildings, Hull.</li> +<li>Hudson, Robert S., Redruth.</li> +<li>James, Arthur H., St. Just.</li> +<li>James, John, Rosevean House, 2 copies.</li> +<li>James, Stephen H., St. Just.</li> +<li>James, Stephen H., B.C.S.</li> +<li>Jennings, E., Linares, Spain.</li> +<li>Kevern, J. T., 2 copies.</li> +<li>Lach-Szyrma, Rev. W. S., Newlyn.</li> +<li>Lanyon, J. J., Penzance.</li> +<li>Lea, Henry Carey, Philadelphia, U.S.</li> +<li>Lovell, James, Jun., Chyandour, Penzance.</li> +<li>Mann, Capt. Benjamin P., London.</li> +<li>Matthews, Robert, Penzance.</li> +<li>Matthews, R., Jun<span class="corr" id="xd33e5204" title="Not in source">.</span>, Tregoose, Helston.</li> +<li>Mauleverer, Miss, The Mall, Armagh, Ireland.</li> +<li>Menneer, Miss A., 7, Trewartha Terrace, Penzance.</li> +<li>Michell, A. O., Marazion.</li> +<li>Michell, W. H., Penzance.</li> +<li>Millett, George Bown, M.R.C.S., Penzance.</li> +<li>Millett, J. N., Lelant.</li> +<li>Mitchell, W., “Western” Hotel, Penzance.</li> +<li>Montgomery, H. M., 5, Clarence Place, Penzance.<span class="pageNum" id="pb200">[<a href="#pb200">200</a>]</span></li> +<li>Morewood, R. D., Trinity House, London.</li> +<li><span class="corr" id="xd33e5218" title="Source: Muller">Müller</span>, Professor Max, Oxford.</li> +<li>Nance, Capt. Francis, St. Martin’s, Scilly Isles.</li> +<li>Ninnis, Paul C., Linares, Spain.</li> +<li>Noy, W. D., London<span class="corr" id="xd33e5226" title="Not in source">.</span></li> +<li>Paull, A., M.R.C.S.E., Truro.</li> +<li>Paull, Nicholas, Penzance.</li> +<li>Pellew, W. H., Penzance.</li> +<li>Pentreath, Dr. F. R., Head Master of Winborne School.</li> +<li>Pentreath, Capt. Wm., Pentreath Villa, Mousehole.</li> +<li>Pentreath, Richard, Australia Villa, Exmouth, Devon.</li> +<li>Pentreath, Richard, H.M.C., London, 2 copies.</li> +<li>Pentreath, William B., H.M. Customs, London.</li> +<li>Peter, Thurstan C., Redruth, 2 copies.</li> +<li>Preston, R. H., Penzance, 3 copies.</li> +<li>Price, Charles, Birmingham.</li> +<li>Prynne, C<span class="corr" id="xd33e5241" title="Not in source">.</span> M., <i>The Republican</i>, Springfield, Mass., U.S.A.</li> +<li>Ralfs, John, M.R.C.S.E., 2 copies.</li> +<li>Rawlings, W. J., Downes, Hayle.</li> +<li>Richards, Mrs., Newlyn.</li> +<li>Rickarby, James W. B., Brixton, S. W.</li> +<li>Rundle, Rev. S., Ladock.</li> +<li>Stewart, Henry, Penzance.</li> +<li>The Penzance Public Library.</li> +<li>Thomas, Henry, Clarence place.</li> +<li>Trenoweth, Captain James, Jun., London.</li> +<li>Trenwith, Charles, Hayle.</li> +<li>Trevail, Silvanus, Tywardreath.</li> +<li>Trowsdale, T. B., Young People’s Institute, Hull.</li> +<li>Uren, J. C., Penzance.</li> +<li>Uren, J. G., Penzance.</li> +<li>Victor, H., Penzance.</li> +<li>Wellington, R., Penzance.</li> +<li>White, Miss, Penzance.</li> +<li>White, W. N., Covent Garden.</li> +<li>White, R., Jun., 6, Cornwall Terrace, Penzance.</li> +<li>Wildman, A. C., Penzance.</li> +<li>Wildman, Henry E., R.N., Halifax, Nova Scotia.</li> +<li>Williams, Henry, Penzance.</li> +<li>Williams, J. H., London.</li> +<li>Williams, J<span class="corr" id="xd33e5272" title="Not in source">.</span> H., Higher Penrose Farm, near Helston.</li> +<li>Williams, Major, Washington, U.S.A.</li> +<li>Williams, T., Trinity House, London.</li> +</ul> +</div> +<div class="divBody"> +<p></p> +<div class="figure p200width"><img src="images/p200.png" alt="Five piskies holding flags with the letters “FINIS.”" width="262" height="198"></div><p> +</p> +</div> +</div> +<div class="transcriberNote"> +<h2 class="main">Colophon</h2> +<p>The new cover art included with this eBook is hereby granted to the public domain.</p> +<h3 class="main">Revision History</h3> +<ul> +<li>2025-03-05 Started. +</li> +</ul> +<h3 class="main">Corrections</h3> +<p>The following 164 corrections have been applied to the text:</p> +<table class="correctionTable"> +<tr> +<th>Page</th> +<th>Source</th> +<th>Correction</th> +<th>Edit distance</th> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="width20"><a class="pageref" href="#xd33e141">N.A.</a></td> +<td class="width40 bottom" lang="en"> +[<i>Not in source</i>] +</td> +<td class="width40 bottom" lang="en">(</td> +<td class="bottom">1</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="width20"><a class="pageref" href="#xd33e453">vi</a></td> +<td class="width40 bottom" lang="en">132</td> +<td class="width40 bottom" lang="en">139</td> +<td class="bottom">1</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="width20"><a class="pageref" href="#xd33e793">3</a></td> +<td class="width40 bottom" lang="en">have have</td> +<td class="width40 bottom" lang="en">have</td> +<td class="bottom">5</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="width20"><a class="pageref" href="#xd33e821">5</a>, <a class="pageref" href="#xd33e1195">35</a>, <a class="pageref" href="#xd33e1408">52</a>, <a class="pageref" href="#xd33e1430">53</a>, <a class="pageref" href="#xd33e1850">76</a>, <a class="pageref" href="#xd33e4137">178</a></td> +<td class="width40 bottom" lang="en"> +[<i>Not in source</i>] +</td> +<td class="width40 bottom" lang="en">’</td> +<td class="bottom">1</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="width20"><a class="pageref" href="#xd33e845">7</a></td> +<td class="width40 bottom" lang="en">’</td> +<td class="width40 bottom" lang="en">,</td> +<td class="bottom">1</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="width20"><a class="pageref" href="#xd33e880">10</a>, <a class="pageref" href="#xd33e929">14</a>, <a class="pageref" href="#xd33e950">16</a>, <a class="pageref" href="#xd33e1356">49</a>, <a class="pageref" href="#xd33e1466">56</a>, <a class="pageref" href="#xd33e1540">59</a>, <a class="pageref" href="#xd33e1677">65</a>, <a class="pageref" href="#xd33e1697">66</a>, <a class="pageref" href="#xd33e1755">70</a>, <a class="pageref" href="#xd33e2289">95</a></td> +<td class="width40 bottom" lang="en"> +[<i>Not in source</i>] +</td> +<td class="width40 bottom" lang="en">“</td> +<td class="bottom">1</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="width20"><a class="pageref" href="#xd33e946">16</a>, <a class="pageref" href="#xd33e1252">40</a>, <a class="pageref" href="#xd33e1358">49</a>, <a class="pageref" href="#xd33e1365">49</a>, <a class="pageref" href="#xd33e1434">54</a>, <a class="pageref" href="#xd33e1673">65</a>, <a class="pageref" href="#xd33e3361">147</a></td> +<td class="width40 bottom" lang="en"> +[<i>Not in source</i>] +</td> +<td class="width40 bottom" lang="en">”</td> +<td class="bottom">1</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="width20"><a class="pageref" href="#xd33e980">18</a></td> +<td class="width40 bottom" lang="en">controling</td> +<td class="width40 bottom" lang="en">controlling</td> +<td class="bottom">1</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="width20"><a class="pageref" href="#xd33e1012">21</a></td> +<td class="width40 bottom" lang="en">grandparents</td> +<td class="width40 bottom" lang="en">grandparents’</td> +<td class="bottom">1</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="width20"><a class="pageref" href="#xd33e1053">25</a></td> +<td class="width40 bottom" lang="en">disenherited</td> +<td class="width40 bottom" lang="en">disinherited</td> +<td class="bottom">1</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="width20"><a class="pageref" href="#xd33e1086">26</a></td> +<td class="width40 bottom" lang="en">mischievious</td> +<td class="width40 bottom" lang="en">mischievous</td> +<td class="bottom">1</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="width20"><a class="pageref" href="#xd33e1147">32</a>, <a class="pageref" href="#xd33e1535">59</a>, <a class="pageref" href="#xd33e3162">135</a></td> +<td class="width40 bottom" lang="en">did’nt</td> +<td class="width40 bottom" lang="en">didn’t</td> +<td class="bottom">2</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="width20"><a class="pageref" href="#xd33e1163">33</a>, <a class="pageref" href="#xd33e1474">57</a></td> +<td class="width40 bottom" lang="en">would’nt</td> +<td class="width40 bottom" lang="en">wouldn’t</td> +<td class="bottom">2</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="width20"><a class="pageref" href="#xd33e1192">35</a>, <a class="pageref" href="#xd33e1712">66</a>, <a class="pageref" href="#xd33e4134">178</a></td> +<td class="width40 bottom" lang="en">“</td> +<td class="width40 bottom" lang="en">‘</td> +<td class="bottom">1</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="width20"><a class="pageref" href="#xd33e1202">36</a></td> +<td class="width40 bottom" lang="en">’</td> +<td class="width40 bottom" lang="en"> +[<i>Deleted</i>] +</td> +<td class="bottom">1</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="width20"><a class="pageref" href="#xd33e1215">37</a></td> +<td class="width40 bottom" lang="en">Stenack</td> +<td class="width40 bottom" lang="en">Stennack</td> +<td class="bottom">1</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="width20"><i title="48 occurrences">Passim. +</i></td> +<td class="width40 bottom" lang="en">e</td> +<td class="width40 bottom" lang="en">’e</td> +<td class="bottom">1</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="width20"><a class="pageref" href="#xd33e1316">46</a></td> +<td class="width40 bottom" lang="en">encumberance</td> +<td class="width40 bottom" lang="en">encumbrance</td> +<td class="bottom">1</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="width20"><a class="pageref" href="#xd33e1352">49</a></td> +<td class="width40 bottom" lang="en"> +[<i>Not in source</i>] +</td> +<td class="width40 bottom" lang="en">,</td> +<td class="bottom">1</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="width20"><a class="pageref" href="#xd33e1362">49</a>, <a class="pageref" href="#xd33e1421">53</a></td> +<td class="width40 bottom" lang="en">es’nt</td> +<td class="width40 bottom" lang="en">esn’t</td> +<td class="bottom">2</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="width20"><a class="pageref" href="#xd33e1369">49</a>, <a class="pageref" href="#xd33e1633">63</a></td> +<td class="width40 bottom" lang="en">could’nt</td> +<td class="width40 bottom" lang="en">couldn’t</td> +<td class="bottom">2</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="width20"><a class="pageref" href="#xd33e1390">51</a></td> +<td class="width40 bottom" lang="en">you’ll</td> +<td class="width40 bottom" lang="en">You’ll</td> +<td class="bottom">1</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="width20"><a class="pageref" href="#xd33e1396">51</a></td> +<td class="width40 bottom" lang="en">seperate</td> +<td class="width40 bottom" lang="en">separate</td> +<td class="bottom">1</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="width20"><a class="pageref" href="#xd33e1399">51</a></td> +<td class="width40 bottom" lang="en">rabbbit-pie</td> +<td class="width40 bottom" lang="en">rabbit-pie</td> +<td class="bottom">1</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="width20"><a class="pageref" href="#xd33e1410">52</a></td> +<td class="width40 bottom" lang="en">should’nt</td> +<td class="width40 bottom" lang="en">shouldn’t</td> +<td class="bottom">2</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="width20"><a class="pageref" href="#xd33e1427">53</a></td> +<td class="width40 bottom" lang="en">hav’nt</td> +<td class="width40 bottom" lang="en">havn’t</td> +<td class="bottom">2</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="width20"><a class="pageref" href="#xd33e1438">54</a></td> +<td class="width40 bottom" lang="en">much</td> +<td class="width40 bottom" lang="en">Much</td> +<td class="bottom">1</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="width20"><a class="pageref" href="#xd33e1561">60</a></td> +<td class="width40 bottom" lang="en">remarsk</td> +<td class="width40 bottom" lang="en">remarks</td> +<td class="bottom">2</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="width20"><a class="pageref" href="#xd33e1570">60</a>, <a class="pageref" href="#xd33e1687">66</a>, <a class="pageref" href="#xd33e2612">102</a></td> +<td class="width40 bottom" lang="en">had’nt</td> +<td class="width40 bottom" lang="en">hadn’t</td> +<td class="bottom">2</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="width20"><a class="pageref" href="#xd33e1611">62</a></td> +<td class="width40 bottom" lang="en">was’nt</td> +<td class="width40 bottom" lang="en">wasn’t</td> +<td class="bottom">2</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="width20"><a class="pageref" href="#xd33e1616">62</a></td> +<td class="width40 bottom" lang="en">were’nt</td> +<td class="width40 bottom" lang="en">weren’t</td> +<td class="bottom">2</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="width20"><a class="pageref" href="#xd33e1715">66</a></td> +<td class="width40 bottom" lang="en">wed’nt</td> +<td class="width40 bottom" lang="en">wedn’t</td> +<td class="bottom">2</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="width20"><a class="pageref" href="#xd33e1745">69</a>, <a class="pageref" href="#xd33e3687">168</a></td> +<td class="width40 bottom" lang="en">might’nt</td> +<td class="width40 bottom" lang="en">mightn’t</td> +<td class="bottom">2</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="width20"><a class="pageref" href="#xd33e1790">71</a>, <a class="pageref" href="#xd33e1828">74</a></td> +<td class="width40 bottom" lang="en">,</td> +<td class="width40 bottom" lang="en">.</td> +<td class="bottom">1</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="width20"><a class="pageref" href="#xd33e1993">80</a></td> +<td class="width40 bottom" lang="en">‘</td> +<td class="width40 bottom" lang="en">“</td> +<td class="bottom">1</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="width20"><a class="pageref" href="#xd33e1998">81</a></td> +<td class="width40 bottom" lang="en">perphaps</td> +<td class="width40 bottom" lang="en">perhaps</td> +<td class="bottom">1</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="width20"><a class="pageref" href="#xd33e2026">83</a></td> +<td class="width40 bottom" lang="en">32nd</td> +<td class="width40 bottom" lang="en">47th</td> +<td class="bottom">4</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="width20"><a class="pageref" href="#xd33e2029">83</a>, <a class="pageref" href="#xd33e2034">83</a>, <a class="pageref" href="#xd33e2037">83</a></td> +<td class="width40 bottom" lang="en">Davy</td> +<td class="width40 bottom" lang="en">Davey</td> +<td class="bottom">1</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="width20"><a class="pageref" href="#xd33e2044">84</a></td> +<td class="width40 bottom" lang="en">maintainance</td> +<td class="width40 bottom" lang="en">maintenance</td> +<td class="bottom">2</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="width20"><a class="pageref" href="#xd33e2077">86</a>, <a class="pageref" href="#xd33e3607">162</a></td> +<td class="width40 bottom" lang="en">bran</td> +<td class="width40 bottom" lang="en">brand</td> +<td class="bottom">1</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="width20"><a class="pageref" href="#xd33e2083">86</a></td> +<td class="width40 bottom" lang="en">”</td> +<td class="width40 bottom" lang="en"> +[<i>Deleted</i>] +</td> +<td class="bottom">1</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="width20"><a class="pageref" href="#xd33e2256">93</a></td> +<td class="width40 bottom" lang="en">sprigans</td> +<td class="width40 bottom" lang="en">spriggans</td> +<td class="bottom">1</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="width20"><a class="pageref" href="#xd33e2475">98</a>, <a class="pageref" href="#xd33e2507">99</a>, <a class="pageref" href="#xd33e4751">197</a>, <a class="pageref" href="#xd33e4961">198</a>, <a class="pageref" href="#xd33e5024">198</a>, <a class="pageref" href="#xd33e5160">199</a>, <a class="pageref" href="#xd33e5173">199</a>, <a class="pageref" href="#xd33e5204">199</a>, <a class="pageref" href="#xd33e5226">200</a>, <a class="pageref" href="#xd33e5241">200</a>, <a class="pageref" href="#xd33e5272">200</a></td> +<td class="width40 bottom" lang="en"> +[<i>Not in source</i>] +</td> +<td class="width40 bottom" lang="en">.</td> +<td class="bottom">1</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="width20"><a class="pageref" href="#xd33e2621">103</a></td> +<td class="width40 bottom" lang="en">.’</td> +<td class="width40 bottom" lang="en">’.</td> +<td class="bottom">2</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="width20"><a class="pageref" href="#xd33e2624">103</a></td> +<td class="width40 bottom" lang="en">wo’nt</td> +<td class="width40 bottom" lang="en">won’t</td> +<td class="bottom">2</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="width20"><a class="pageref" href="#xd33e2643">104</a></td> +<td class="width40 bottom" lang="en">stump</td> +<td class="width40 bottom" lang="en">slump</td> +<td class="bottom">1</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="width20"><a class="pageref" href="#xd33e2718">110</a></td> +<td class="width40 bottom" lang="en">desmesne</td> +<td class="width40 bottom" lang="en">demesne</td> +<td class="bottom">1</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="width20"><a class="pageref" href="#xd33e2865">115</a></td> +<td class="width40 bottom" lang="en">seperation</td> +<td class="width40 bottom" lang="en">separation</td> +<td class="bottom">1</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="width20"><a class="pageref" href="#xd33e2870">115</a></td> +<td class="width40 bottom" lang="en">Bossullow</td> +<td class="width40 bottom" lang="en">Bosullow</td> +<td class="bottom">1</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="width20"><a class="pageref" href="#xd33e2876">115</a></td> +<td class="width40 bottom" lang="en">Bossullows</td> +<td class="width40 bottom" lang="en">Bosullows</td> +<td class="bottom">1</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="width20"><a class="pageref" href="#xd33e2887">116</a>, <a class="pageref" href="#xd33e3143">133</a></td> +<td class="width40 bottom" lang="en">seperated</td> +<td class="width40 bottom" lang="en">separated</td> +<td class="bottom">1</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="width20"><a class="pageref" href="#xd33e2924">118</a></td> +<td class="width40 bottom" lang="en">simular</td> +<td class="width40 bottom" lang="en">similar</td> +<td class="bottom">1</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="width20"><a class="pageref" href="#xd33e2990">122</a></td> +<td class="width40 bottom" lang="en">Garn</td> +<td class="width40 bottom" lang="en">Carn</td> +<td class="bottom">1</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="width20"><a class="pageref" href="#xd33e3089">129</a></td> +<td class="width40 bottom" lang="en">cozy</td> +<td class="width40 bottom" lang="en">cosy</td> +<td class="bottom">1</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="width20"><a class="pageref" href="#xd33e3299">145</a></td> +<td class="width40 bottom" lang="en">gid</td> +<td class="width40 bottom" lang="en">get</td> +<td class="bottom">2</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="width20"><a class="pageref" href="#xd33e3417">150</a></td> +<td class="width40 bottom" lang="en">é</td> +<td class="width40 bottom" lang="en">’e</td> +<td class="bottom">2 / 1</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="width20"><a class="pageref" href="#xd33e3579">160</a></td> +<td class="width40 bottom" lang="en">tell</td> +<td class="width40 bottom" lang="en">tells</td> +<td class="bottom">1</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="width20"><a class="pageref" href="#xd33e3621">163</a></td> +<td class="width40 bottom" lang="en">mischevious</td> +<td class="width40 bottom" lang="en">mischievous</td> +<td class="bottom">2</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="width20"><a class="pageref" href="#xd33e3624">163</a></td> +<td class="width40 bottom" lang="en">hallo</td> +<td class="width40 bottom" lang="en">Hallo</td> +<td class="bottom">1</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="width20"><a class="pageref" href="#xd33e3645">165</a></td> +<td class="width40 bottom" lang="en">waiscoat</td> +<td class="width40 bottom" lang="en">waistcoat</td> +<td class="bottom">1</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="width20"><a class="pageref" href="#xd33e3694">169</a>, <a class="pageref" href="#xd33e3750">173</a>, <a class="pageref" href="#xd33e3781">173</a>, <a class="pageref" href="#xd33e3836">174</a>, <a class="pageref" href="#xd33e3849">174</a></td> +<td class="width40 bottom" lang="en">em</td> +<td class="width40 bottom" lang="en">’em</td> +<td class="bottom">1</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="width20"><a class="pageref" href="#xd33e4168">182</a></td> +<td class="width40 bottom" lang="en">Bartiney</td> +<td class="width40 bottom" lang="en">Bartinney</td> +<td class="bottom">1</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="width20"><a class="pageref" href="#xd33e4215">185</a></td> +<td class="width40 bottom" lang="en">be be</td> +<td class="width40 bottom" lang="en">be</td> +<td class="bottom">3</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="width20"><a class="pageref" href="#xd33e4377">192</a></td> +<td class="width40 bottom" lang="en">if</td> +<td class="width40 bottom" lang="en">is</td> +<td class="bottom">1</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="width20"><a class="pageref" href="#xd33e4653">197</a></td> +<td class="width40 bottom" lang="en"> +[<i>Not in source</i>] +</td> +<td class="width40 bottom" lang="en"><i>Cavers</i>, the darnel.</td> +<td class="bottom">19</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="width20"><a class="pageref" href="#xd33e4890">198</a></td> +<td class="width40 bottom" lang="en">fire place</td> +<td class="width40 bottom" lang="en">fire-place</td> +<td class="bottom">1</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="width20"><a class="pageref" href="#xd33e4946">198</a></td> +<td class="width40 bottom" lang="en">gleanings in the harvest-field</td> +<td class="width40 bottom" lang="en">naked oats (<i lang="la">avena nuda</i>)</td> +<td class="bottom">23</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="width20"><a class="pageref" href="#xd33e5218">200</a></td> +<td class="width40 bottom" lang="en">Muller</td> +<td class="width40 bottom" lang="en">Müller</td> +<td class="bottom">1 / 0</td> +</tr> +</table> +</div> +</div> +<div style='text-align:center'>*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 75799 ***</div> +</body> +</html> + |