# The Folk-Lore Journal/Volume 5/Cornish Folk-Lore (pp. 177-220)

CORNISH FOLK-LORE.
By Miss M. A. Courtney.
(Continued from p. 112.)
Part III.
The fairies of Cornwall may be divided into four classes, the Small People, the Pixies (pronounced Piskies or Pisgies), the Spriggans, and the Knockers. The first are harmless elfish little beings known all over England, whose revels on fine summer nights have often been described by those favoured individuals who have accidentally had the privilege of seeing them. As a rule they, however, wish to think themselves invisible, and in this county it is considered unlucky to call them by the name of fairies. The stories told about them by our old folk differed but slightly from those related elsewhere. There was the well-known cow that gave the finest yield of milk, and retained it all the year round when others of the herd ran dry, but always ceased the flow at a certain time, and if efforts were made to draw more from her, kicked over the milking-pail. The milkmaid discovered that the cow belonged to the small people by reason of her wearing in her hat a bunch of flowers having in it a four-leaved clover, which rendered them visible, when she saw them climbing up the cow's legs and sucking at her teats. The greedy mistress, when the maid told her of this discovery, contrary to advice, washed the poor animal all over with salt water, which fairies particularly dislike (as well as the smell of fish and grease), in order to drive them away. Of course she succeeded in her object, and by so doing brought nothing but ill luck for ever after on herself and family. When unmolested fairies bring good fortune to places they frequent; but they are spiteful if interfered with, and delight in vexing and thwarting people who meddle with ​them. It is well known "that they can't abear those whom they can't abide." Then there were the tales of persons spirited away to fairyland, to wait upon the small people's children and perform various little domestic offices, where the time has passed so pleasantly that they have forgotten all about their homes and relations, until by doing a forbidden thing they have incurred their master's anger. They were then punished by being thrown into a deep sleep, and on awakening found themselves on some moor close to their native villages. These unhappy creatures never, after their return, settled down to work, but roamed about aimlessly doing nothing, hoping and longing one day to be allowed to go back to the place from whence they had been banished. They had first put themselves into the fairies' power by eating or drinking something on the sly, when they had surprised them at one of their moonlight frolics; or by accepting a gift of fruit from the hands of one of these little beings. There are also two or three legends of curious women, who by underhand dealings have got hold of a mysterious box of green ointment belonging to the fairies, which, rubbed on the eyes, gave them the power of seeing them by daylight, when they look old, withered, and grey, and hate to be spied upon by mortals. These women are always interrupted when they have put the ointment on one eye before they have time to anoint both, and by an inadvertent speech they invariably betray their ill-gotten knowledge. They cannot resist making an exclamation when they see a fairy pilfering or up to some mischievous trick. Neither can they keep the secret of the side on which they see, and they are quickly made to pay the penalty of their misdeeds by a well-directed blow from the elf's fist which deprives them of the sight of that eye for ever. All these old wives' tales are fully related by Mr. Bottrell in his three series of Traditions, &c. of West Cornwall.
Fairies haunt the ancient monuments of this county, and are supposed to be the beings who bring ill-luck on the destroyers of them. "Not long ago a woman of Moushal (a village near Penzance) told me that troops of small people, not more than a foot and a-half high, used, on moonlight nights, to come out of a hole in the cliff, opening on to the beach, Newlyn side of the village, and but a short distance from it. The little people were always dressed very smart, and if any ​one came near them would scamper away into the hole. Mothers often told their children that if they went under cliffs by night the small people would carry them away into 'Dicky Danjy's hole.'"—Bottrell.
These small people are said to have been half-witted people who had committed no mortal sin, but who, when they died, were not good enough to go to Heaven. They are also thought, in some state, to have lived before.
The small people go about in parties, but pisky in his habits, at least in West Cornwall, is a solitary little being. I gather, however, from Mr. T. Q. Couch's History of Polperro that in the eastern part of the county the name of Pisky is applied indiscriminately to both tribes. He says two only of them are known by name, and quotes the following rhyme:
"Jack o' the lantern! Joan the wad, Who tickled the maid and made her mad; Light me home the weather's bad."
Here in the west he is a ragged merry little fellow (to laugh like a pisky is a common Cornish simile), interesting himself in human affairs, threshing the farmer's corn at nights, or doing other work and pinching the maidservants when they leave a house dirty at bedtime. Margery Daw, in our version of the nursery-song, meets with punishment at his hands for her misdoings—
"See saw, Margery Daw, Sold her bed and lay upon straw; Sold her bed and lay upon hay, And pisky came and carried her away. For wasn't she a dirty slut To sell her bed and lie in the dirt?"
Should the happy possessor of one of these industrious, unpaid fairy servants (who never object to taking food left for them by friends) express his thanks aloud, thus showing that he sees him, or try to reward him for his services by giving him a new suit of clothes, he leaves the house never to return, and in the latter case may be heard to say:
"Pisky fine, pisky gay! Pisky now will fly away."
​Or in another version:
"Pisky new coat, and pisky new hood, Pisky now will do no more good."—(T.Q.C.)
Mr. Cornish, the Town Clerk of Penzance, mentioned at an antiquarian meeting recently held in that town, "that there was a brownie still existing in it; that a gentleman, whose opinion he would take on many matters, had told him that he had often seen it sitting quietly by the fireside." When mischievously inclined pisky often leads benighted people a sad dance; like Will of the Wisp, he takes them over hedges and ditches, and sometimes round and round the same field, from which they in vain try to find their way home (although they can always see the path close at hand), until they sit down and turn their stockings the wrong side out, as an old lady, born in the last century, whom I well knew, once told me she had done. To turn a pocket inside out has the same effect. But to quote the words of a late witty Cornish doctor, "Pisky led is often whiskey led."
Mr T. Q. Couch in his before-mentioned book has two or three amusing stories of their merry pranks. One is called "A Voyage with the Piskies." A Polperro lad meeting them one night as he was going on an errand heard them say in chorus, "I'm for Portallow Green" (a place in the neighbourhood). Repeating the cry after them, "quick as thought he found himself there surrounded by a throng of laughing piskies." The next place they visited was Seaton Beach, between Polperro and Plymouth; the third and last cry was "I'm for the King of France's cellar." Again he decided on joining them, dropped the bundle he was carrying on the sands, and "immediately found himself in a spacious cellar, engaged with his mysterious companions in tasting the richest wines." Afterwards they strolled through the palace, where in a room he saw all the preparations made for a feast, and could not resist the temptation of pocketing one of the rich silver goblets from the table. The signal for their return was soon given, and once more he found himself on Seaton Beach, where he had just time to pick up his bundle before he was whisked home. All these voyages were made in the short space of five minutes. When on his return he told his adventures they were listened to with ​incredulity until he produced the goblet, which proved the truth of his tale. After having been kept for generations this trophy has disappeared. "These little creatures seem sometimes," Mr. Couch says, "to have delighted in mischief for its own sake. Old Robin Hicks, who formerly lived in a house at 'Quay Head' (Polperro), has more than once, on stormy winter nights, been alarmed at his supper by a voice sharp and shrill 'Robin! Robin! your boat is adrift.' Loud was the laughter and the tacking of hands (clapping) when they succeeded in luring Robin as far as the quay, where the boat was lying safely at its moorings."
Another of his legends is about a fisherman of his district, John Taprail, long since dead, who was, on a frosty night, aroused from his sleep by a voice which called to him that his boat was in danger. He went down to the beach to find that some person" had played a practical joke on him. As he was returning he saw a group of piskies sitting in a semicircle under a much larger boat belonging to one of his neighbours. They were dividing a heap of money between them by throwing a piece of gold alternately into each of the hats which lay before them. John was covetous, and forgot that piskies hate to be spied upon; so he crept up and pushed his hat slily in with the others. When the pile was getting low he tried to get off with his booty without their detecting the fraud. He had got some distance before the cheat was discovered; then they pursued him in such hot haste that he only escaped with his treasure by leaving his coat-tails in their hands. "The pisky's midwife" is common; but she sees them by accidentally rubbing her eye with a bit of soap whilst washing their baby. Like those who have stolen and applied the green ointment, she loses the sight of it by a blow from an angry pisky's fist. She meets and recognizes the father at a fair where, as usual, he is pilfering, and foolishly asks after the welfare of mother and child. But all these stories in West Cornwall would be told of the "small people" as well as the well-known "Colman Grey" (of course the name varies) which relates how a farmer one day found a poor, half-starved looking bantling, sitting alone in the middle of a field, whom he took home and fed until he grew quite strong and lively. A short time after a shrill voice was suddenly heard calling thrice upon "Colman Grey." ​Upon which the imp cried "Ho! ho! ho! my daddy is come!" flew through the keyhole, and was never heard of after. Unbaptised children were, in this county at the beginning of the century, said to turn, when they died, into piskies; they gradually went through many transformations at each change, getting smaller until at last they became "Meryons" (ants) and finally disappeared. Another tradition is that they were Druids, who, because they would not believe in Christ, were for their sins condemned to change first into piskies, gradually getting smaller, they too, as ants, at last are lost. It is on account of these legends considered unlucky to destroy an ant's nest, and a piece of tin put into one could, in bygone days, through pisky power be transmuted into silver, provided that it was inserted at some varying lucky moment about the time of the new moon.
Moths were formerly believed in Cornwall to be departed souls, and are still, in some districts, called piskies.
There is also a green bug which infests bramble-bushes in the late autumn that bears the same name, and one of the reasons assigned for blackberries not being good after Michaelmas is that pisky spoils them then. Pisky is in some places invoked for luck at the swarming of bees.
It was once a common custom in East Cornwall, when houses were built, to leave holes in the walls by which these little beings could enter; to stop them up would drive away all luck. And in West Cornwall knobs of lead, known as pisky's pows or pisky feet, were placed at intervals on the roofs of farm-houses to prevent the piskies from dancing on them and turning the milk sour in the dairies.
Country people in East Cornwall sometimes put a prayer book under a child's pillow as a charm to keep away piskies. I am told that a poor woman, near Launceston, was fully persuaded that one of her children was taken away and a piskey substituted, the disaster being caused by the absence of a prayer book on one particular night. —H. G. T. Notes and Queries, December, 1850.
If piskies are kind and helpful little beings, spriggans or sprites are spiteful creatures, never doing a good turn for any one. It is they ​who carry off poor babies from their mothers, when they have been obliged to leave them for a few hours alone, putting their own ugly peevish brats in their cradles, who never thrive under the foster-mother's care, in spite of all the trouble they may bestow upon them, Mr. Bottrell tells the story of a spriggan, a married man with a family, who took the place of a poor woman's child one evening when she was at work in the harvest field. For although an innocent baby held in the arms is thought in Cornwall to protect the holder from mischief caused by ghosts and witches, it has no power over these creatures, who are not supposed to have souls. This legend took place under Chapel Carn Brea on the old road from Penzance to St. Just in Penwith. The mother, Jenny Trayer by name, was first alarmed on her return one night from her work in the harvest field by not finding her child in its cradle, but in a corner of the kitchen where in olden days the wood and furze for the then general open fires was kept. She was however too tired to take much notice, and went to bed, and slept soundly until the morning. From that time forth she had no peace; the child was never satisfied but when eating or drinking, or when she had it dandling in her arms. The poor woman consulted her neighbours in turn as to what she should do with the changeling (as one and all agreed that it was). One recommended her to dip it on the three first Wednesdays in May in Chapel Uny Well, which advice was twice faithfully carried out in the prescribed manner. The third Wednesday was very wet and windy, but Jenny determined to persevere in this treatment of her ugly bantling, and holding the brat (who seemed to enjoy the storm) firmly on her shoulders, she trudged off. When they got about half way, a shrill voice from behind some rocks was heard to say,
"Tredrill! Tredrill! Thy wife and children greet thee well."
Not seeing any one, the woman was of course alarmed, and her fright increased when the imps made answer in a similar voice
"What care I for wife or child, When I ride on Dowdy's back to the Chapel Well, And have got pap my fill?"
​After this adventure, she took the advice of another neighbour, who told her the best way to get rid of the spriggan and have her own child returned was "to put the small body upon the ashes' pile, and beat it well with a broom; then lay it naked under a church stile I there leave it and keep out of sight and hearing till the turn of night; when nine times out of ten, the thing will be taken away and the stolen child returned." This was finally done, all the women of the village after it had been put upon a convenient pile "belabouring it with their brooms," upon which it naturally set up a frightful roar. After dark it was laid under the stile, and there next morning the woman "found her own 'dear cheeld' sleeping on some dry straw" most beautifully clean and wrapped in a piece of chintz. "Jenny nursed her recovered child with great care, but there was always something queer about it, as there always is about one that has been in the fairies power—if only for a few days."
There are many other tales of changelings, but they resemble each other so much that they are not worth relating. In the one above quoted from Mr. Bottrell he gives a third charm for getting a child restored as follows, "Make by night a smoky fire, with green ferns and dry. When the chimney and house are full of smoke as one can bear, throw the changeling on the hearthstone; go out of the house, turn three times round; when one enters the right child will be restored." Spriggans too guard the vast treasures that are supposed to be buried beneath our immense cams and in our cliff castles. No matter if the work be carried on by night or by day, they are sure to punish the rash person who ventures to dig in hopes of securing them. When he has got some way down, he finds himself surrounded by hundreds of ugly beings, in some cases almost as tall as he, who scare the unhappy man until he loses all control over himself, throws down his tools, and rushes off as fast as he can possibly go. The fright often makes him so ill that he has to lie for days in bed. Should he ever »ummon up courage to return to the spot, he will find the pit refilled, and no traces to show that the ground had been disturbed.
Knockers (pronounced knackers) are mine fairies, popularly supposed to be (as related elsewhere) the souls of the Jews who crucified Christ, sent by the Romans to work as slaves in the tin ​mines. In proof of this, they are said never to have been heard at work on Saturdays, nor other Jewish festivals. They are compelled to sing carols at Christmas time. Small pieces of smelted tin found in old smelting-works are known as "Jew's bowels." These fairies haunt none but the richest tin mines, and many are reputed to have been discovered by their singing and knocking underground; and miners think when they hear them that it is a sign of good luck, because when following their noises they often chance on lodes of good ore. When a miner goes into an "old level" and sees a bright light, it is a sure sign that he will find tin there. Knockers like spriggans are very ugly beings, and, if you do not treat them in a friendly spirit, very vindictive. "As stiff as Barker's knee" is a common saying in Cornwall; he having in some way angered the knockers, either by speaking of them disrespectfully or by not leaving (as was formerly the custom) a bit of his dinner on the ground for them (for good luck), they in revenge threw all their tools in his lap, which lamed him for the rest of his life. Mr. Bottrell tells a similar story of a man named Tom Trevorrow, who when he was working underground heard the knockers just before him, and roughly told them "to be quiet and go." Upon which, a showers of stones fell suddenly around him, and gave him a dreadful fright. He seems however to have quickly got over it, and soon after when eating his dinner, a number of squeaking voices sang,
"Tom Trevorrow! Tom Trevorrow! Leave some of thy 'fuggan' for bucca Or bad luck to thee to-morrow!"
But Tom took no notice and ate up every crumb, upon which the knockers changed their song to
"Tommy Trevorrow! Tommy Trevorrow! We'll send thee bad luck to-morrow; Thou old curmudgeon, to eat all thy fuggan, And not leave a 'didjan' for bucca."
After this such persistent ill-luck followed him that he was obliged to leave the mine.
​Bacca is the name of a spirit that in Cornwall it was once thought necessary to propitiate. Fishermen left a fish on the sands for bucca, and in the harvest a piece of bread at lunch-time was thrown over the left shoulder, and a few drops of beer spilled on the ground for him to ensure good-luck. Bucca, or bucca-boo, was, until very lately (and I expect in some places still is) the terror of children, who were often when crying told "that if they did not stop he would come and carry them off." It was also the name of a ghost; but nowadays to call a person a "great bucca" simply implies that you think him a fool. There were two buccas—
"'Bucca Gwidden,' the white, or good spirit, 'Bucca Dhu,' the black, malevolent one."
Miners, too, had some superstition in regard to snails, known in Cornwall as "bulhorns," for if they met one on their way to work they always dropped a bit of their dinner or some grease from their lanthom before him for good-luck.
Although Cornish miners, or "tinners" as they are generally called, are a very intelligent, and since the days of Wesley a religious body of men, many of these old-world beliefs still linger. To this day it is considered unlucky to make the form of a cross on the sides of a mine, and when underground you may on no account whistle for fear of vexing the knockers and bringing ill-luck, but you may sing or even swear without producing any bad effect. Down one mine-shaft a black goat is often seen to descend, but is never met below; in another mine a white rabbit forbodes an accident. A hand clasping the ladder and coming down with, or after a miner, foretells misfortune or death. This superstition prevails, too, in the slate quarries of the eastern part of the county.
The miners in the slate-quarries of Delabole have a tradition that the right hand of a miner, who committed suicide, is sometimes seen following them down the ladders, grasping the rings as they let them go, holding a miner's light between the thumb and finger. It forebodes ill to the seer.—Esmé Stuart. See "Tamsins Choice," Longman, June, 1883.
Miraculous dreams are related; warnings to some miners, which ​have prevented on particular days their going down below with their comrades, when serious accidents have happened and several have lost their lives. Rich lodes, too, have been discovered through the dreams of fortunate women, who have been shown in them where their male relatives should dig for the hidden treasure.
Miners still observe some quaint old customs; a horse-shoe is sometimes placed on a convenient part of the machinery, which each, as he goes down to his day's work, touches four times to ensure good-luck. These must be "Tributers" (pronounced trib-ut-ers), who work on 'trib-ut," when a percentage is paid on ores raised; in contradistinction to "Tut-workers," who are paid by the job.
Last year, 1886, at St. Just, in Penrith, two men of Wheal Drea had their hats burnt one Monday morning, after the birth of their first children.
Three hundred fathoms below the ground at Cook's Kitchen mine, near Camborne, swarms of flies may be heard buzzing, called by the men, for some unknown reason, "Mother Margarets." From being bred in the dark, they have a great dislike to light.
Swallows in olden times were thought to spend the winter in deep, old disused Cornish tin-works; also in the sheltered nooks of its cliffs and cairns. It is the custom here to jump on seeing the first in spring.
A water-wagtail, in Cornwall a "tinner," perching on a windowsill, is the sign of a visit from a stranger.
Carew says—"The Cornish tynners hold a strong imagination, that in the withdrawing of Noah's floud to the sea the same took his course from east to west, violently brealdng vp, and forcibly carrying with it the earth, trees and rocks, which lay anything loosely neere the vpper face of the ground. To confirme the likelihood of which supposed truth, they doe many times digge vp whole and huge timbertrees, which they conceiue at that deluge to haue been ouerturned and whelmed."
Miners frequently in conversation make use of technical proverbs, such as "Capel rides a good horse." Capel is schorl, and indicates the presence of tin. "It's a wise man that knows tin" alludes to the various forms it takes. To an old tune they sing the words—
"Here's to the devil, with his wooden spade and shovel, Digging tin by the bushel, with his tail cocked up."
And on the signboard of a public-house in West Cornwall a few years ago (and probably still) might be read—
"Come all good Cornish boys walk in, Here's brandy, rum, and shrub, and gin; You can't do less than drink success To copper, fish, and tin."
Miners believe that mundic (iron pyrites) being applied to a wound immediately cures it; of which they are so sure that they use no other remedy than washing it in the water that runs through the mundic ore.—A Complete History of Cornwall, 1730.
It is an easy transition from mines to fish, the next staple industry of Cornwall, and to the superstitions of its fishermen and sailors. Fish is a word in West Cornwall applied more particularly to pilchards (pelchurs). They frequent our coasts in the autumn.
"When the corn is in the shock, Then the fish are on the rock."
And if on a close foggy day in that season you ask the question,—"Do you think it will rain?" the answer often is—"No! it is only het (heat) and pelchurs," that sort of weather being favourable for catching them.
"A good year for fleas is a good year for fish," the proverb says; and when eating one the flesh must not be always taken off the bone from the tail to the head. To eat them from head to tail is unlucky and would soon drive the fish from the shore. There are many other wise sayings about pilchards; but I will only give one more couplet, which declares that—
"They are food, money, and light, All in one night."
Should pilchards when in bulk make a squeaking noise, they are crying for more, and another shoal will quickly be in the bay.
​Fishermen dread going near the spot where vessels have been wrecked, as the voices of the drowned often call to them there, especially before a storm. Sometimes their dead comrades call them by their names, and then they know for certain that they will soon die, and often when drowning the ghosts of their friends appear to them. They are seen by them sometimes taking the form of animals.
Mr. Bottrell speaks of a farmer's wife who was warned of her son's death by the milk in the pans ranged round her dairy being agitated like the sea waves in a storm. There is a legend common to many districts of a wrecker who rushed into the sea and perished, after a voice had been heard to call thrice, "The hour is come, but not the man." He was carried off by the devil in a phantom ship seen in the offing. But ships haunted with seamen's ghosts are rarely lost, as the spirits give the sailors warning of storms and other dangers. In a churchyard near the Land's End is the grave of a drowned captain, covered by a flat tombstone; proceeding from it formerly the sound of a ghostly bell was often heard to strike four and eight bells. The tale goes that when his vessel struck on some rocks close to the shore, the captain saw all his men safely off in their boat, but refused himself to leave the ship, and went down in her exactly at midnight, as he was striking the time. His body was recovered, and given decent burial, but his poor soul had no rest. It is said that an unbelieving sailor once went out of curiosity to try if he could hear this bell; he did, and soon after sailed on a voyage from which he never returned.
Spectre ships are seen before wrecks; they are generally shrouded in mist; but the crew of one was said to consist of two men, a woman, and a dog. These ships vanish at some well-known point. Jack Harry's lights, too, herald a storm; they are so called from the man who first saw them. These appear on a phantom vessel resembling the one that will be lost.
The apparition of a lady carrying a lanthorn always on one part of the Cornish coast foretells a storm and shipwrecks. She is supposed to be searching for her child, who was drowned, whilst she was saved, because she was afraid to trust it out of her arms. For the legends ​of "The Lady of the Vow" and "The Hooper or Hooter of Sennen Cove, see ante, p. 99. Mermaids are still believed in, and it is very bad to offend them, for by their spite harbours have been filled up with sand. They, however, kindly take idiot children under their protection. The lucky finder of one of their combs or glasses has the power (as long as it remains in his possession) of charming away diseases.
Boats are said to come to a sudden standstill when over the spot where lies the body of a drowned man, for whom search is being made. Sailors regard many things as bad omens, such "as a loaf of bread turned upside-down on a table." (This will bring some ship to distress.) They will not begin a voyage on Childermas-day, nor allow a piece of spar-stone (quartz) to be carried on board a vessel: that would ensure her striking on a rock. Of course, they neither whistle when there, nor speak of hares, two most unlucky things; and should they meet one of these animals on their way to the place of embarkation they think it far wiser to turn back home, and put off sailing for a tide. Hares (as already noticed) play a great part in Cornish folk-lore. The following amusing story I had from a friend:—"Jimmy Treglown, a noted poacher living in a village of "West Cornwall, became converted at a revival meeting; he was tempted on his way to class-meeting one Sunday morning soon after by the devil in the form of a beautiful hare. Jimmy said, 'There thee art, my dear; but I waan't tooch thee on a Sunday—nor yet on a weeky day, for that matter.' He went briskly on his way for a few paces, and then, like Lot's wife, he was tempted to look behind him. Alas I in Jimmy's own words, 'There she was in her seat, looking lovely. I tooked up a stone, and dabbed at her. Away she runned, and fare-ee well, religion. Mine runned away with her. I went home, and never went to class no more. You see, it was the devil and 'simmen to me ' (seeming) I heard 'un laugh and say, 'Ah I ah I Jimmy, boy, I had thee on the hip then. Thee must confess thee'st had a fair fall.' So I gave in, and never ​went nigh the 'people' (Wesleyans) no more. Nobody should fire at hares of this sort, except with a silver bullet; they often appear as white, but the devil knowed I couldn't be fooled with a white 'un.'" Nothing is too ridiculous to be told of hares. Another old man from St. Just (still living) once recited this anecdote in our kitchen, and from his grave manner evidently expected it to be believed:—"I was out walking (he said) one Sunday morning, when I saw a hare in a field which I longed to have; so I shied a bit of 'codgy wax ' (cobbler's wax), the only thing I had in my pocket, at un, when he ran away. What was my surprise on getting over a stile to see two hares in the next field face to face, the 'codgy wax' had stuck to the nose of the first, and he in his fright had runned against the other, and was holden 'un fast, too. So I quietly broke the necks of both, and carried em home."
"The grapes are sour" is in Cornwall often changed to "Lev-un go! he's dry eaten after all," as the old man said when he couldn't catch the hare.
Sailors and fishermen naturally have many weather proverbs, of which I will give a few:—
"A north wind is a broom for the Channel."
"A Saturday's moon is a sailor's curse."
"A Saturday's and Sunday's moon."
"Come once in seven years too soon."
"Between twelve and two you'll see what the day will do."
"A southerly wind with a fog bring an easterly wind in 'snog' (with certainty)."
"Friday's noon is Sunday's doom."
"Friday and the week are never alike," &c. &c.
"Weather dogs" are pillars of light coloured like the rainbow, which appear on the horizon generally over the sea in unsettled weather, and always foretell storms. The inland dwellers of Cornwall have also their wise sayings on this subject. Rooks darting around a rookery, sparrows twittering, donkeys braying, are signs of rain. Cats running wildly about a house are said to bring storms on their tails. Some of their omens are simply ludicrous, such as "We may look for wet when a cat, in washing its face, puts its paw over its ​ear," or when "hurlers" (small sparks) play about the bars of a grate. A cock crowing on a stone is a sign of fine weather; on the doorstep, of a stranger. But here it is well known "That fools are weather-wise," and "That those that are weather-wise are rarely otherwise."
In West Cornwall not very long ago farmers, before they began to break up a grass field or plough for sowing, always turned the faces of the cattle attached to the plough towards the west and solemnly said, "In the name of God let us begin," and then with the sun's course proceeded on their work. Everything in this county, even down to such a small thing as taking the cream off the milk-pans set round the dairy, must for luck be done from left to right. Invalids, on going out for the first time after an illness, must walk with, not against, the sun, for fear of a relapse.
Farmers here are taught that if they wish to thrive they must "rise with the craw (crow), go to bed with the yow (ewe)," not be "like Solomon the wise, who was loth to go to bed and loth to rise," for does not "the master's eye make the mare fat?" "A February spring," according to one proverb, "is not worth a pin," and another says "a dry east wind raises the spring." Sayings current in other counties, such as "a peck of March dust is worth a king's ransom," are also quoted here, but those I shall not give. There should be as many frosty mornings in May as in March, for "a hot May makes a fat church-hay." A wet June makes a dry September, and there is always a black month before Christmas. The farmer too is told—
"A rainbow in the morn, put your hook in the corn. A rainbow in the eve, put your hook in the sheave."
A swarm of bees in May is worth a "yow" (ewe) and lamb same day. It is considered lucky in these parts for a stray swarm to settle near your house; and if you throw a handkerchief over it you may claim it as your own. The inside of hives should be rubbed with "scawnsy buds" (elderflowers) to prevent anew swarm from leaving them. Honey should be always taken from the hive on St. Bartholomew's Day, he being the patron saint of bees. Of course all the principal events happening in the families to whom they belonged, in ​this as in other counties, were formerly whispered to them, that the bees might not think themselves neglected, and leave the place in anger. At a recent meeting of the Penzance Natural History and Antiquarian Society a gentleman mentioned that when a boy he had seen thirty hives belonging to Mr. Joshua Fox, of Tregedna, tied up in crape (an universal practice) because of a death in the Fox family. Another at the same time said that when, some years since, the land-lady of the First and Last Inn, at the Land's End, died, the bird-cages and flower-pots were also tied with crape, to prevent the birds and plants from dying. Snails as well as bees are thought here to bring luck, for "the house is blest where snails do rest," and children on meeting theln in their path, for some reason stamp their feet and say,
"Snail! snail! come out of your hole, Or I will beat you black as a coal."
Another Cornish farmer's superstition is that "ducks won't lay until they have drunk 'Lide' (March) water;" and the wife of one in 1880 declared "that if a goose saw a Lent lily (daffodil) before hatching its goslings it would, when they came forth, destroy them." Some witty thieves, many years ago, having stolen twelve geese from a clergyman in the eastern part of the county, tied twelve pennies and this doggrel around the gander's neck,
"Parson Peard, be not afeard, Nor take it much in anger. We've bought your geese at a penny a-piece, And left the money with the gander."
Moles in this county are known as "wants," and once in the Land's End district I overtook an old man and asked him what had made so many hillocks in a field through which we were passing. His answer was, "What you rich people never have in your houses, 'wants.'"
To this day in Cornwall, when anything unforeseen happens to our small farmers or they have the misfortune to lose by sickness some of their stock, they still think that they are "ill-wished," and start off (often on long journeys) to consult a "pellar," or wise man, sometimes called "a white witch" (which term is here used indiscriminately for persons of both sexes). The following I had from a ​dairy-man I know, who about twelve years ago quarrelled with a domestic servant, a woman living in a neighbouring house. Soon after, from some reason, two or three of his cows died; he was quite sure, he told me, that she had "overlooked" and "ill-wished" him. To ease his mind he had consulted a "pellar" about the matter, who had described her accurately to him, and, for payment, removed the "spell" (I do not know what rites were used), telling him to look at his watch and note the hour, as he would find, when he returned home, that a cow he had left sick would have begun at that moment to recover (which he says it did). The "pellar" also added, "The woman who has 'ill-wished' you will be swaddled in fire and lapped in water"; and by a strange coincidence she emigrated soon after, and was lost in the ill-fated Cospatrick, that was burnt at sea.
Water from a font is often stolen to sprinkle "ill-wished" persons or things.
The two next examples were communicated to me by a friend: "Some twenty-six years ago a farmer in a neighbouring village (West Cornwall) sustained during one season continual losses from his cows dying of indigestion, known as 'loss of cud,' 'horn-bloom,' &c. After consulting an old farrier called Armstrong he was induced to go to a 'pellar' in Exeter. His orders were to go home, and, on nearing his farm, he would see an old woman in a field hoeing turnips, and that she was the party who had cast the 'evil eye' on him. When he saw her he was to lay hold of her and accuse her of the crime, then tear off some of her dress, take it to his farm, and burn it with some of the hair from the tails of his surviving stock. These directions were fully carried out, and his bad health (caused by worry) improved, and he lost no more cows. A spotted clover that grew luxuriantly that summer was no doubt the cause of the swelling." "Another farmer in the same village eighteen years since lost all his feeding cattle from pleuro-pneumonia; believing them to be 'ill-wished' by a woman, he also consulted the Exeter 'pellar.' He brought home some bottles of elixir, potent against magic, and made an image of dough, pierced it from the nape of the neck downward, in the line of the spine, with a very large blanket-pin. In order to make the agonies of the woman with the 'evil eye' excruciating in ​the last degree, dough and pin were then burnt in a fire of hazel and ash. The cure failed, as any one acquainted with the disease might have forecast."
Besides those remedies already mentioned for curing cattle, you may employ these:—"Take some blood from the sick animal by wounding him; let the blood fall on some straw carefully held to the place; not a drop must be lost; burn the straw, when the ill-wisher will be irresistibly drawn to the spot; then by violence you can compel him to take off the spell." Or, "Bleed one animal to death to save the whole herd."
A local newspaper, in 1883 (Cornishman), gives the following:—"Superstitions die hard.— A horse died the other day on a farm in the neighbourhood of St. Ives. Its carcase was dragged on a Sunday away up to the granite rock basins and weather-worn bosses of Trecroben hill, and there burnt, in order to drive away the evil spell, or ill-wishing, which afflicted the farm where the animal belonged." I, a few years since, saw a dying cat taken out of a house, on a mat, by two servants, that it might not die inside and bring ill-luck. In 1865 a farmer in Portreath sacrificed a calf, by burning, for the purpose of removing a disease which had long followed his horses and cows. And in another case a farmer burnt a living lamb, to save, as he said, "his flock from spells which had been cast on them."—Robert Hunt.
The Cornishman, in another paragraph, says:—"Our Summercourt (East Cornwall) correspondent witnessed an amusing affair on Thursday morning (April, 1883). Seemg a crowd in the street, he asked the reason, and found that a young lady was about to perform the feat of throwing a pig's nose over a house for good luck! This is how it was done. The lady took the nose of a pig, that was killed the day before, in her right hand; stood with her back to the house, and threw the nose over her head, and over the house, into the back garden. Had she failed in the attempt her luck was supposed to be bad." "Whet your knife on Sunday, you'll skin on Monday," is a very old Perran rhythm and St. Hilary (West Cornwall) superstition, so that, however blunt your knife may be, you must use it as it is, lest by sharpening it you bring ill-luck on the farmer, and he lose a sheep or ​bullock." Mr. T. Q. Couch, W. Antiquary, 1883, says of one, "He is an old-fashioned man, and, amongst his other 'whiddles' (whims), keeps a goat amongst his cattle, for the sake of keeping his cows from slipping their calves." Branches of carr (mountain ash) were, in the east of the county, hung over the cattle in their stalls to prevent their being "ill-wished," also carried in the pocket as a cure and prevention of rheumatism.
The belief in witchcraft in West Cornwall is much more general than most people imagine. Several cases have lately come under my own notice; one, that of a man-servant in our employ who broke a blood-vessel, and for a long time was so ill that his life was despaired of. He was most carefully attended by a Penzance physician, who came to see him three times a day. But directly that his strength began to return he asked permission to go to Redruth to consult a "pellar," as he was quite sure that he had been "overlooked" and "ill-wished." An old Penzance man, afflicted with rheumatism, who gained his living by selling fruit in the streets, fancied himself ill-wished. He went to Helston to see a "wiseman" residing there, to whom he paid seven-and-sixpence, with a further promise of five pounds on the removal of the "spell." As he was too poor to pay this himself a brother agreed to do it for him, but somehow failed to perform his contract. Now the poor old man thinks that the pellar's ill-wishes are added to his former pains.
The "pellars" wore formerly magical rings, with a blue stone in them, said to have been formed by snakes breathing on hazel-twigs. Our country-people often searched for these stones. Many are the charms against ill-wishing worn by the ignorant. I will quote some mentioned by Mr. Bottrell: "A strip of parchment inscribed with the following words forming a four-sided acrostic:—
SATOR AREPO TENET OPERA ROTAS
"At the time of an old lady's decease, a little while ago, on her breast was found a small silk bag containing several charms, among ​others a piece of parchment, about three inches square, having written on one side of it 'Nalgah' (in capital letters); under this is a pen-and-ink drawing something like a bird with two pairs of wings, a pair extended and another 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' (in capitals); on the reverse in large letters—
'Jehovah.' 'Jah, Eloim.' 'Shadday.' 'Adonay.' 'Have mercy on a poor woman.'
"A pellar of great repute in the neighbourhood tells me that this is inscribed with two charms, that Nalgah is the figure only. The Abracadabra is also supplied, the letters arranged in the usual way. Another potent spell is the 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 at each side of it united at the bottom. Under them is written, 'Whosoever beareth these tokens will be fortunate, and need fear no evil.' The charms are folded in a paper on which is usually written, 'By the help of the Lord these will do thee good,' and inclosed in a little bag to be worn on the breast."
People in good health visited these pellars every spring to get their charms renewed, and bed-ridden people who kept theirs under their "pillow-beres" were then visited by the pellar for the same purpose. In every small Cornish village in olden times (and the race is not yet extinct) lived a charmer or "white witch." Their powers were not quite as great as those of a pellar, but they were thoroughly believed in and consulted on every occasion for every complaint. They were not only able to cure diseases, but they could, when offended, "overlook" and ill-wish the offender, bringing ill-luck on ​him, and also on his family and farm-stock. The seventh son of the seventh son, or seventh daughter of the seventh daughter, were born with this gift of charming, and made the most noted pellars; but any one might become a witch who touched a Logan rock nine times at midnight. Places mentioned elsewhere, as being in Cornwall their favourite resorts, and where they went, it is said, riding on ragwort stems, instead of the traditional broomsticks.
Or, he might, says another writer, use the following charm: "Go to the chancel of a church to sacrament, hide away the bread from the hands of the priest, at midnight carry it around the church from south to north, crossing east three times. The third time a big toad, open-mouthed, will be met, put the broad in it; as soon as swallowed he will breathe three times upon the man, and from that time he will become a witch. Known by five black spots diagonally placed under the tongue." There is also a strange glare in the eye of a person who can "overlook," and the eyelids are always red.
They could in this county change themselves into toads, as well as hares. Mr. Robert Hunt relates the story of one who met her death in that form, and Mr. T. Q. Couch tells the tale of a sailor who was a "witch" which received several injuries whilst in the shape of that animal. When a very small child, having a "kennel" (an ulcer) on my eye, I was unknown to my parents taken by an old servant to a Penzance "charmer," who then made a great deal of money by her profession. All I can remember about it is, that she breathed on it, made some curious passes with her hands and muttered some incantation.
About twelve years ago, a woman who lived in the "west country" (Land's End district) as well as being a "white witch was a famous knitster," and we amongst others frequently gave her work. When she brought it back she was treated by our maids, who lived in great fear of her "ill-wishing" them, to the beat our kitchen could afford, and many were the marvellous stories she told me of her power to staunch blood, &c.,, when doctors failed. It was not necessary for her to see the person; she could cure them sitting by her fireside if they were miles away.
​A part of Launceston Castle is locally known as Witch's Tower, from the tradition that one was burnt at its foot, no grass grows on the spot; another is said to have met with the same fate on a flat stone close to St. Austell market-house.
I will give some of their charms culled from various sources, and remedies for diseases still used in Cornwall:—Take three burning sticks from the hearth of the "overlooker," make the patient cross over them three times and then extinguish with water. Place nine bramble-leaves in a basin of "Holy Well's water, pass each leaf over and from the diseased part, repeating three times to each leaf. Three virgins came from the east, one brought fire, the others brought frost. Out fire! In frost! In the name of the Father, Son, and Holy Ghost." Or take a stick of burning furze from the hearth, pass over and above the diseased part, repeating the above nine times. If you can succeed by any means in drawing blood from the "illwisher" you are certain to break and remove the spell. Stick pins into an apple or potatoe, carry it in your pocket, and as it shrivels the "illwisher" will feel an ache from every pin, but this I fancy does not do the person "over-looked" any good. Another authority says, "Stick pins into a bullock's heart, when the illwisher will feel a stab for every one put in and in self defence take off the curse."
A friend writes, "An old man called Uncle Will Jelbart, who had been with the Duke of Kent in America, and also a very long time in the Peninsula, about forty years ago lived in West Cornwall; he had a small pension, and in addition made a good income by charming warts, wildfire (erysipelas), cataracts, &c. He used to spit three times and breathe three times on the part affected, muttering 'In the name of the Father, Son, and Holy Ghost I bid thee begone.' For cataract he pricked the small white 'dew-snail' (slug) found about four a.m., with a hawthorn spine, and let a drop fall into the eye; and in the case of skin diseases occasionally supplemented the charm with an ointment made of the juice extracted from house-leeks and 'raw cream'; he sometimes changed the words and repeated those which with slight variations are known all over Cornwall:
'Three ladies (or virgins) come from the east: One with fire and two with frost; Out with thee, fire, and in with thee, frost, In the name of the Father, Son, and Holy Ghost.'
This is often said nine times over a scald. In prose it begins thus, 'As I passed over the river Jordan, I met with Christ. He said, What aileth thee? Oh Lord, my flesh doth burn. The Lord said unto me. Two angels,'" &c.
A lady once told me that about forty years ago she was taken to a "charmer" who stood in a Cornish market-place on fixed days, to have her warts cured. The remedies for this childish complaint are very numerous. I once had my forehead rubbed with a piece of stolen beef, which was then buried in a garden, to send them away, the idea being that as the beef decayed the warts would fall off or dwindle gradually. There are two or three other ways of getting rid of them of a similar kind. Touch each wart with a new pin, enclose them in a bottle, either bury them in a newly-made grave of the opposite sex, or at four cross-roads; as the pins rust, the warts will disappear. Or, touch them with a knot made in a piece of string, there should be as many knots as there are warts, bury it, when the rope decays so will the warts. The two next are selfish remedies. Touch each wart with a pebble, put the stones in a bag, throw them away, and the finder will get them and they will leave you. Or, in coming out of church, wish them on some part of another person's body (or on a tree); they will go from you and appear on him, or on the spot named. One method employed by professional "charmers" is to take two pieces of charred stick from a fire, form them into a cross and place them on the warts and repeat one of the formulae above quoted. Yet another is to wash the hands in the moon's rays focussed in a dry metal basin, saying,
I wash my hands in this thy dish, Oh man in the moon, do grant my wish, And come and take away this."
When pricked by a thorn, use one of the following charms:—
"Christ was of a virgin born: And he was pricked by a thorn. And it did never 'bell' (fester), And I trust in Jesus this never will."
​Or,
"Christ was crowned with thorns, The thorns did bleed bnt did not rot, No more shall thy—(mentioning the part affected): In the name of the Father, Son, and Holy Ghost."
In prose: "When Christ was upon the middle earth, the Jews pricked him, his blood sprung up into heaven, his flesh never rotted nor 'fustered,' no more I hope will not thine. In the name,'" &c.—From Mr. T. Q. Couch, who gives two others very similar.
For Tetters.
"Tetter, tetter, thou hast nine sisters, God bless thee, flesh, and preserve thee, bone; Perish thou, tetter, and be thou gone: In the name," &c. "Tetter, tetter, thou hast eight sisters," &c.
This charm is thus continued until it comes to the last, which is,—
"Tetter, tetter, thou hast no sister," &c.—Bottrell.
Toothache.
In prose and verse slightly varied, common in all parts of the county,—
"Christ passed by his brother's door, Saw Peter his brother lying on the floor; What aileth thee, brother, Pain in thy teeth? Thy teeth shall pain thee no more; In the name of," &c.
This is to be worn in a bag around the neck. Mr. T. Q. Couch gives this charm in prose; it begins thus, "Peter sat at the gate of the Temple, and Christ said unto him. What aileth thee?" &c. Another remedy against toathache is, always in the morning to begin dressing by putting the stocking on the left foot.—Through Rev. S. Bundle.
A knuckle-bone is often carried in the pocket as a cure and preventive of cramp. I once saw an old woman turn out her pocket; ​amongst its contents, as well as the knuckle-bone, was the tip of an oxtongue kept for good-luck.
Slippers on going to bed are when taken off, for the same complaint, often placed under the bed with the soles upwards, or on their heels against the post of the bed with their toes up. The following is from Mr. T. Q. Couch: "The cramp is keenless, Mary was sinless, when she bore Jesus: let the cramp go away in the name of Jesus." All the charms published by the above-named author in his History of Polperro were taken from a manuscript-book, which belonged to a white witch.
When a foot has "gone to sleep" I have often seen people wet their forefingers in their mouths, stoop and draw the form of a cross on it. This is said to be an infallible remedy. Mr. Robert Hunt has a rather similar cure for hiccough." "Wet the forefinger of the right hand with spittle, and cross the front of the left shoe (or boot) three times, repeating the Lord's Prayer backwards." The most popular cure for this with children is a heaping spoonful of moist sugar. A sovereign remedy for this and almost every complaint is a small piece of a stale Good Friday bun grated into a glass of cold water. This bun is hung up in the kitchen from one year to the other. Bread baked on this day never grows mouldy.
For A Strain.
"Christ rode over the bridge, Christ rode under the bridge; Vein to vein, strain to strain, I hope, God, will take it back again."
For Ague.
When our Saviour saw the cross, whereon he was to be crucified, his body did shake. The Jews said, "Hast thou an ague?" Our Saviour said, "He that keepeth this in mind, thought, or writing, shall neither be troubled with ague or fever."
For Wildfire (Erysipelas).
"Christ, he walketh over the land, Carried the wildfire in his hand, He rebuked the fire, and bid it stand; Stand, wildfire, stand (three times repeated), In the name of," &c.—T. Q. Couch.
​Mr. Robert Hunt gives in his book on Old Cornwall a Latin charm for the staunching of blood. I find, however, on making inquiries that it is not the one generally used, which is as follows:
"Christ was born in Bethlehem, Baptised in the river Jordan; There he digged a well, And tnrned the water against the hill, So shall thy hlood stand still, In the name," &c.
There are other versions all much alike; a prose one runs thus, "Baptised in the river Jordan, when the water was wild, the water was good, the water stood, so shall thy blood. In the name," &c.—T. Q. C.
The Rev. S. Rundle says a charmer once told him the charm for staunching blood consisted in saying a verse from the Psalms; but she could not read, and he was inclined to believe the form was, "Jesus came to the river Jordan, and said, Stand, and it stood, and so I bid thee, blood, stand. In the name," &c. For bleeding at the nose, a door-key is often placed against the back. Cuts are plugged with cobwebs; flue from a man's hat, tobacco leaves, and oocasionally filled with salt.
Club-moss is considered good for eye diseases. On the third day of the moon, when the thin crescent is seen for the first time, show it the knife with which the moss for the charm is to be cut, and repeat,
"As Christ healed the issue of blood, So I bid thee, begone, In the name of," &c.
Mr. Robert Hunt says,
"Do thou cut what thou cuttest for good!"
"At sun-down, having carefully washed the hands, the club-moss is to be cut kneeling. It is to be carefully wrapped in a white cloth, and subsequently boiled in water taken from the spring nearest its place of growth. This may be used as a fomentation. Or the club-moss made into an ointment with butter made from the milk of a new cow."
A "stye" on the eye is often stroked nine times with a cat's tail; with a wedding ring taken from a dead woman's, or a silver one ​from drowned man's, hand. The belief in the efficacy of a dead hand in curing diseases in Cornwall is marvellous. I, in a short paper read at an antiquarian meeting, gave this instance, related to me by a medical man about ten years ago (now dead). A day or two after a number of other cases in proof of my statement appeared, to my surprise, in our local papers, which, as well as my own, I will transcribe. "Once I attended a poor woman's child for an obstinate case of sore eyes. One day when leaving the house the mother said to me, 'Is there nothing more, doctor, I can do for my little girl?' I, jokingly, answered, 'Nothing, unless you care to stroke them with a dead man's hand.' About a week after I met the woman in the streets, who stopped me, and said, 'My child's eyes are getting better at last, doctor.' I expressed myself pleased that the ointment I had given her was doing good. To my astonishment, she replied, 'Oh, it is not that, we never used it, we took your advice about the dead man's hand.' Until she recalled it to my memory, I had quite forgotten my foolish speech." "I am one of those who can bear testimony to the fact of a cure having been effected by the means above-named. I was born with a disfigurement on my upper lip. My mother felt a great anxiety about this, so my nurse proposed that a dead man's hand should be passed seven times over my lip. I was taken to the house of one Robin Gendall, Causeway-head, Penzance, who at that time was lying dead, and his hand was passed over my lip in the manner named. By slow degrees my friends had the satisfaction of seeing that the charm had taken effect."—Octogenarian.
"I may add my testimony to Miss Courtney's remarks as to the belief in Cornwall in the virtue of the touch of a diseased part by a dead man's hand. A case came under my knowledge at Penzance of a child who had from birth a peculiar tuberous formation at the junction of the nose with the forehead, which the medical men would not cut for fear of severing veins. The child was taken by her mother to a friend's house, in which were lying the remains of a young man who had just died from consumption. The deceased's hand was passed over the malformation seven times, and it soon began to grow smaller and smaller." "I have myself seen the child since Miss Courtney read her paper (November, 1881), and, though ​the mark is still apparent, I am assured it is surely, if slowly, disappearing. A relation of mine also tells me that, like Miss Courtney, she was taken to the Penzance witch for the purpose of having a 'stye' removed from one of her eyes by charming."—Tramp.
I was told of many other cases—one by another surgeon; but it would be useless to repeat them. I will end with one I have taken from Notes and Queries, December, 1859:—
"A lady who was staying lately at Penzance attended a funeral, and noticed that whilst the clergyman was reading the burial service a woman forced her way through the pall-bearers to the edge of the grave. When he came to the passage, 'Earth to earth, ashes to ashes, dust to dust,' she dropped a white cloth upon the coffin, closed her eyes, and apparently said a prayer. On making inquiries as to the cause of this proceeding, this lady found that a superstition exists amongst the peasantry in that part that if a person with a sore be taken secretly to a corpse, the dead hand passed over the sore place, and the bandage afterwards be dropped upon the coffin during the reading of the burial service, a perfect cure will be the result. This woman had a child with a bad leg. and she had followed this superstition with a firm belief in_its efficacy. The peasants, also, to the present day wear charms, believing they will protect them from sickness and other evils. The wife of the clergyman of the parish was very charitable in attending the sick and dispensing medicines, and one day a woman brought her a child having sore eyes to have them charmed, having more faith in that remedy than in medicines. She was greatly surprised to find that medicines only were given to her."—E. K.
There is no virtue in the dead hand of a near relation. A curious old troth plight was formerly practised in Cornwall: The couple broke a wedding ring taken from the finger of a corpse, and each kept one half. The editor of a local paper (Cornishman) once obtained a piece of rope, with which a man was hanged, for a poor woman who had walked fourteen miles to Bodmin in the hopes of getting it, that she might effect the cure of her sore eyes.
The Rev. S. Bundle writes that "a Cornish surgeon recommended a charmer as being more efficacious than himself in curing shingles. ​According to the same authority, a liquid composed of bramble and butter-dock leaves is poured on the place, whilst a light stick is waved over the decoction by the charmer, who repeats an incantation." It is popularly supposed in Cornwall that should shingles meet around your waist, you would die The cures and charms against epilepsy are also very numerous, and very generally used here. Thirty pence are collected at the church door by the person afflicted, from one of the opposite sex, changed for sacrament money (silver), and made into a ring to be worn day and night. Very lately, at St. Just in Penwith, a young woman begged from young men pennies to buy a silver ring, a remedy which she believed would cure her fits. Another charm, which it requires a person of strong nerves to perform, is to walk thrice around a church a midnight, then enter and stand before the altar. In connection with this rite the Rev. S. Rundle relates the following:—"At Crowan (a village in West Cornwall), an epileptic subject entered the church at midnight. As he was groping his way through the pitchy dark, his heart suddenly leaped, and almost stood still. He uttered shriek upon shriek, for his hand had grasped a man's head. He thought it was the head of the famous Sir John St. Aubyn. He was removed in a fainting state, and it was then discovered that he had seized the head of the sexton, who had come in to see that nothing was done to frighten the man. The unfortunate fellow never recovered from the shock, but died in a lunatic asylum." "A middle-aged Camborne man was subject to violent fits until two years ago, when some one told him to kill a toad, put one of its legs in a bag, and wear it suspended by a string around his neck. He did so, and has never had a fit since."—Cornishman, December, 1881.
Toads are also worn as charms for other diseases in this county:—"On the 27th July, 1875, I was lodging with a very intelligent grazier and horse-dealer, at Tintagel, Cornwall, when he was knocked down by a very serious attack of quinsey, to which he had been subject for many years. He pulled through the crisis; and on being sufficiently recovered he betook himself to a 'wise woman' at Camelford. She prescribed for him as follows: —'Get a live toad, fasten a string around its throat, and hang it up till the body drops from the head; then tie the string around your own neck, and never ​take it off, night or day, till your fiftieth birthday. You'll never have quinsey again. When I left Tintagel, I understood that my landlord, greatly relieved in mind, had already commenced the operation."—Augustus Jessop, D.D.
When a kettle won't boil, instead of the old adage, "A watched pot never boils," Cornish people say, "There is a toad or a frog in it." It is here considered lucky for a toad to come into the house.
Snakes avoid and dread ash-trees, a branch will keep them away. A small piece of mountain ash-wood "bare" is also one of the numerous cures and preventives of rheumatism. Our peasantry believe however much you may try to kill quickly an adder or snake, it will never die before sunset. Mr. Robert Hunt says, "When an adder is seen, a circle is to be rapidly drawn around it and the sign of the cross made within it, whilst the first two verses of the 68th Psalm are repeated." This is to destroy it; there are also charms to be said for curing their bites, when they are apostrophised "under the ashen leaf." This charm for yellow jaundice I culled from the Western Antiquary, "I was walking in a village churchyard near the town of St. Austell (I think in the autumn of 1839), when I saw a woman approach an open grave. She stood by the side of it and appeared to be muttering some words. She then drew out from under her cloak a good-size baked meal-cake, threw it into the grave and then left the place. Upon inquiry I found the cake was composed of oatmeal mixed with dog's wine, baked, and thrown into the grave as a charm for the yellow jaundice. This cure was at that time commonly believed in by the peasantry of the neighbourhood."—Joseph Cartwright, March 1883.
The words of charms must be muttered, they lose their efficacy if recited aloud, and the charmer must never communicate them to one of the same sex, for that transfers the power of charming to the other person. Of superstitious rites practised for the cure of whooping-cough, &c., I will speak a little further on. Cornishmen in the last century from their cradles to their graves might have been guided in their actions by old women's "widdles" (superstitions), some as already shown are still foolishly followed; but I hope that few people are silly enough at the present day to leave their babies' heads a ​twelvemonth unwashed, under the mistaken notion that it would be unlucky to do it.
I have often and very recently seen the creases in the palms of children's hands filled with dirt; to clean them before they were a year old would take away riches—they would live and die poor. Their nails too for the same period should be bitten, not cut, for that would make them thieves. Hair at no age must be cut at the waning of the moon, that would prevent its growing luxuriantly; locks shorn off must be always burnt, it is unlucky to throw them away; then birds might use them in their nests and weave them in so firmly that there would be a difficulty in your rising at the last day. Children's first teeth are burnt to prevent dog's or "snaggles" irregular teeth coming in their stead. "All locks are unlocked to favour easy birth (or death)."—A. H. Bickford, M.D., Camborne, 1883.
A popular notion amongst old folks is, that when a boy is born on the waning moon the next birth will be a girl, and vice versa. They also say that when a birth takes place on the growing of the moon, the next child will be of the same sex." A child born in the interval between the old and new moons is fated to die young, and babies with blue veins across their noses do not live to see twenty-one. A cake called a groaning cake is made in some houses in Cornwall after the birth of a child, of which every caller is expected to partake. The mother often carries "a groaning cake" when she is going to be "upraised" (churched); this she gives to the first person she meets on her way.
"Kimbly" is the name of an offering, generally a piece of bread or cake, still given in some rural districts of this county to the first person met when going to a wedding or a christening. It is sometimes presented to any one who brings the news of a birth to an interested party. Two young men, I knew about thirty years ago, were taking a walk in West Cornwall; crossing over a bridge they met a procession carrying a baby to the parish church, where the child was to be baptised. Unaware of this curious custom, they were very much surprised at having a piece of cake put into their hands. A magistrate wrote to the Western Morning News, in January 1884, saying, that on his way to his petty sessions he had had one of these ​christening cakes thrust into his hand, but unluckily he did not state in what parish this happened. This called forth several letters on the subject, parts of which I will quote.
"About thirty years ago at the christening of a brother (in the Meneage district, Helston), and when the family party were ready for the walk to the afternoon service in Cury church, I well recollect seeing the old nurse wrap in a pure white sheet of paper what she called the 'cheeld's fuggan.' This was a cake with plenty of currants and saffron, about the size of a modern tea -plate. It was to be given to the first person met on returning, after the child was christened. It happened that, as most of the parishioners were at the service, no one was met until near home, almost a mile from the church, when a tipsy village carpenter rambled around a corner, right against our party, and received the cake. Regrets were expressed that the 'cheeld's fuggan' should have fallen to the lot of this notoriously evil liver, and my idea was that it was a bad omen. However as my brother has always been a veritable Rechabite, enjoys good health, a contented mind, and enough of this world's goods to satisfy every moderate want, no evil can thus far be traced to the mischance."—J. C, Western Morning News.
"Kimbly" in East Cornwall is the name of a thing, commonly a piece of bread, which is given under peculiar circumstances at weddings and christenings. When the parties set out from the house to go to church, or on their business, one person is sent before them with this selected piece of bread in his or her hand (a woman is commonly preferred for this office), and the piece is given to the first individual that is met. I interpret it to have some reference to the idea the evil eye and its influence, which might fall on the married persons or on the child, which is sought to be averted by this unexpected gift. It is also observed in births, in order that by this gift envy may be turned away from the infant or happy parents. This 'kimbly' is commonly given to the person bringing the first news to those interested in the birth."'—T. Q. Couch, Western Morning News.
"I witnessed this custom very frequently at Looe in South-east Cornwall from fifty to sixty-five years ago. I believe it is correct to ​say that this gift was there a small cake, made for the occasion, and termed the 'christening-crib,' a crib of bread or cake being a provincialism for a bit of bread," &c.—William Pengelly, Western Morning News.
Children, when they leave small bits of meat, &c. on their plates, are in Cornwall often told "to eat up their cribs."
The Rev. S. Rundle, Vicar of Godolphin, says, "That once he was sent for to baptise a child, around whose neck hung a little bag, which the mother said contained a bit of a donkey's ear, and that this charm had cured the child of a most distressing cough."
In some parts of Cornwall it is considered a sure sign of being sweethearts if a young man and woman "stand witness together," i.e. become godfather and godmother of the same child.—T.C. But not in all, for I remember once hearing in Penzance a couple refuse to do so, saying that it was unlucky. "First at the font, never at the altar." When I was young, old nurses often breathed in babies' mouths to cure the thrush, thrice repeating the second verse of the Eighth Psalm, "Out of the mouths of babes and sucklings," &c. "May children and 'chets' (kittens) never thrive," and it is unlucky to "tuck" (short coat) children in that month.
"Tuck babies in May, You'll tuck them away."
It is of course considered an unfortunate month for marriages. Neither should babies "be tucked" on a week day, but on a Sunday, which day should also be chosen for leaving off any article of clothing; as then you will have the prayers of every congregation for you, and are sure not to catch cold. A friend lately sent me the following charm of one year's duration which prevents your feeling or taking a cold. "Eat a large apple at Hallow-een under an apple-tree just before midnight; no other garment than a bed-sheet should be worn. A kill or cure remedy."
An empty cradle should never be rocked unless you wish to have a large family, for—
"Rock the cradle empty You'll rock the babies plenty."
​The jingles which follow are often repeated by Cornish nursemaids with appropriate actions to amuse their little charges. First, touching each part of the face as mentioned with the forefinger,
"Brow brender, Eye winker, Nose dropper, Mouth eater, Chin chopper. Tickle-tickle."
Second—
"Tap a tap shoe, that would I do, If I had but a little more leather. We'll sit in the sun till the leather doth come, Then we'll tap them both together."
Here the two little feet are struck lightly one against the other.
Children with rickets were taken by their parents on the three first Sundays in May to be dipped at sunrise in one of the numerous Cornish holy wells, and then put to sleep in the sun; this was thought to strengthen them. Small pieces torn from their clothes were left on the bushes to propitiate the pixies; or for the same disease they were passed nine times through a Mên-an-tol (holed stone). A man stood on one side, and a woman on the other, of the stone. The child was passed with the sun from east to west, and from right to left; a boy from the woman to the man, a girl from the man to the woman. This order is always, in these charms, strictly observed. As lately as 1883, in the village of Sancred, West Cornwall, a little girl, suffering from whooping-cough, was passed from a man to a woman nine times under a donkey's belly; a little boy standing the while at the donkey's head feeding it with "cribs" of wheaten bread. My informant did not know if on this occasion any incantation was repeated. Another family, he tells me, some years back were in the same neighbourhood cured of the whooping-cough by donkey's hair, which was dried on the baking iron of the open hearth, reduced to powder, and administered to them. There are very various ways of ​doing this, one is between thin slices of bread and butter. Some authorities say the latter ingredients must belong to a couple called John and Joan. Mr. Robert Hunt gives a charm which in a measure combines the two above-mentioned. "The child must be passed naked nine times over the back and under the belly of a female donkey. Three spoonfuls of milk drawn from the teats of the animal, three hairs cut from its back, and three from its belly, are to stand in the milk three hours, and to be given in three doses repeated on three mornings." Mr. Hunt also says, "There were some doggrel lines connected with the ceremony which have escaped my memory, and I have endeavoured in vain to find any one remembering them. They were to the effect that as Christ placed the cross on the ass's back when he rode into Jerusalem and so rendered the animal holy, if the child touched where Jesus sat it should cough no more." I will quote another of Mr. Hunt's charms. "Gather nine spar-stones (quartz) from a running stream, taking care not to interrupt the free passage of the water in doing so. Then dip a quart of water from the stream, which must be taken in the direction in which the stream runs—by no means must the vessel be dipped against the stream. Then make the nine stones red-hot, and throw them into the quart of water. Bottle the prepared water, and give the afflicted child a wineglass of this water for nine mornings." Other remedies are to cross the child over running water nine times, or under a bramble bough bent into the ground (this latter and through a cleft ash are also tried for hernia). Some nurses take children, with whooping-cough, out for a walk, in hopes of meeting a man on a white or piebald horse. Should they be fortunate enough to do so, they ask the rider how they can cure the patient: whatever advice he gives is implicitly followed. Children with dirty habits are often threatened with "a mousey pasty" (made of mice), which they are told shall be cooked for their dinners.
Cornish children are warned by their nurses not to grimace, lest, whilst so doing, the wind should change and their faces always remain contorted. There is another form in which this warning is often given: "Don't make mock of a 'magum' (May-game), for you may be struck comical yourself one day." 'Magum' in most cases ​means a facetious person, one who is full of merry pranks, and the expressions, "He's a reg'lar magum," or "He's full of his magums," are often heard. But the idea intended to be conveyed in the first saying is that it is wrong to make fun of a person suffering from an infirmity, which may at any time afflict the jeerer. The puritanical notion of Sunday lingers in the belief in Cornwall that it is unlucky to use a scissors on that day, even to cut your nails; you must
"Cut them on Monday, before your fast you break, And you'll have a present in less than a week,"
Children here are pleased to see "gifts" (white spots) on their thumbnails, as
"Gifts on the thumb are sure to come, But gifts on the finger are sure to linger."
Occasionally white spots on the five fingers are named as follows: "A gift, a friend, a fee, a true lover, a journey to go." Should the little ones, when picking flowers, sting themselves with nettles, they are of course in this locality, as elsewhere in England, taught to rub the spot with dock-leaves, repeating the words, "In dock, out nettle "; but they are often told in addition to wet the place affected with their spittle, and make a cross over it with their thumbnails, pressed down as heavily as possible. School-boys and school girls often years ago practised a cruel jest on their more innocent companions. They induced them to pick a nettle by saying "Nettles won't sting this month." When the children were stung and complained the retort was, "I never said they would not sting you." The blue scabious in Cornwall is never plucked. It is called the devil's bit, and the superstition is handed down from one generation of children to another that, should they transgress and do so, the devil will appear to them in their dreams at night. But any one who wishes to dream of the devil should pin four ivy-leaves to the corners of his pillow. Flowers plucked from churchyards bring ill-luck, and and even visitations from spirits on the plucker. "Wrens and robins are sacred in the eyes of Cornish boys, for
"Hurt a robin or a wran, Never prosper, boy nor man."
​A groom who had, when a lad, shot a robin and held it in one of his hands told me that it shook ever after. But they always chase and try to kill the first butterfly of the season; and, should they succeed, they will overcome their enemies—I suppose, in football, &c.
Earwigs they hold in detestation, as they believe that, should they get into their ears, they will cause madness. There is a legend popular amongst them which relates that a poor man was once driven frantic by a very queer sensation in his head. At last, not being able to bear it any longer, he went into a meat-market, laid it down upon a block, and asked a butcher to chop it off. Whilst in this recumbent position an earwig crept out of his ear, and the pain instantly ceased. Our school-boys have other fallacies, such as, the pain caused by a "custice," i. e. a stroke across the palm of the hand with a cane, may be neutralised by placing two hairs on it crossways. Also that the wound made by a nail can be kept from festering by wrapping the nail in a piece of fat bacon to prevent its rusting.
School-girls' superstitions are more sentimental, and often connected with wishing. If, when talking together, one accidentally makes a rhyme, she wishes; and, should she be asked a question, before she speaks again, to which she can answer Yes, she thinks that she is sure to get it. When an eyelash falls out its owner puts it on the tip of her nose, wishes and blows at it; should she blow it off, she will have her wish. Should she by chance hear a dog dreaming, she stands up, puts a foot on each side of it, and then wishes. Years ago one gravely told me that if I wanted to know a dog's dreams I must throw a pocket-handkerchief over it when sleeping and keep it there until it awoke; then, before getting into bed, put it under my pillow, and I should have the same dream. Dreams in Cornwall are always said to go by contraries. "If you dream of the dead you will hear tell of the living," &c. To dream any one is kissing you is a sign of deceit. "Of fruit out of season, trouble without reason."
"A Friday's dream on Saturdays told Is stue to come trae, be it ever so old."
To see if a friend loves her, a Cornish girl pulls out a hair from ​her friend's head, and then tries to suspend it by the root from the palm of her own hand. If this can be done the test is successful. When a little older there are many ways in which our maidens "try for their sweethearts." A few of the rules prescribed for these rites, which have been handed down from generation to generation, may be worth transcribing. "Draw a bracken fern, cut it at the bottom of the stalk; there you will find your lover's initials." Take an applepip between the forefinger and the thumb, flip it into the air, saying, "North, south, east, west, tell me where my love doth rest," and watch the direction in which it falls. Go into the fields at the time of the new moon and pluck a piece of herb yarrow; put it when going to bed under your pillow, saying—
"Good night, fair yarrow, Thrice good night to thee; I hope before to-morrow's dawn My true love I shall see."
If you are to be married your sweetheart will appear to you in you in dreams.
"Look out of your bed-room window on St. Valentine's morn, note the first man you see, and you will marry the same, or one of the name."
To lose your apron or your garter shows that your lover is thinking of you. Three candles burning at the same time is the sign of a wedding; and the girl who is nearest to the door, the cupboard, and the shortest candle will be married first. When two people accidentally say the same thing at the same time the one who finishes first will be married first. There are a great number of omens similar to these last, equally stupid, and not worthy of notice.
"Friday is a cross day for marriage," and "If you marry in Lent you'll live to repent." Should you in marrying
"Change the name, and not the letter, You'll change for the worse, and not the better."
but it is lucky if your initials form a word.
When a younger sister marries first the elder is said to dance in the "bruss" (short twigs of heath or furze), from an old custom of ​dancing without shoes on the furze prickles which get detached from the stalk. It is considered extremely unlucky here to break or lose your wedding-ring, also for a wedding-cake to crack after baking. A lady told me of one made for a couple she knew, which fell to pieces when taken out of the oven. Before the wedding came the bride had sickened of some disorder, was dead and buried. A hole in a loaf, too, foretells a separation in a family; and to turn one upside down on a table wrecks a vessel.
Only old maids can rear a myrtle, and they will not blossom when trained against houses where there are none.
"A young woman who has been three times a bridesmaid will never be a bride." "It was an old custom, religiously observed until lately in Zennor and adjacent parishes on the north coast of Cornwall, to waylay a married couple on their wedding night and flog them to bed with cords, sheep-spans, or anything handy for the purpose, believing that this rough treatment would ensure them happiness and the 'heritage and gift that cometh from the Lord,' of a numerous family. At more modish weddings, the guests merely entered the bridal chamber, and threw stockings in which stones or something to make weight were placed, at the bride and bridegroom in bed. The first one hit of the happy pair betokened the sex of their first-born."—Bottrell.
Should there be a great discrepancy between the ages of the bride and bridegroom, or the marriage of a couple in any way be a matter of notoriety, they are in West Cornwall on their wedding night often treated to a "shallal," a serenade on tin-kettles, pans, marrow-bones, &c. Any great noise in this part of the county is described as being "a reg'lar shallal." In olden times, and in fact the custom is not quite discontinued at the present day, for I heard a whisper of one having taken place in a small fishing-village two years ago. Married people accused of immorality were in Cornwall punished by a "riding." I will give the description of one by Mr. T. Q. Couch.
"A cart was got, donkeys were harnessed in, and a pair personating the guilty or suspected were driven through the streets, attended by a train of men and boys. At Polperro (East Cornwall) the attendants acted as trumpeters; the bullock's horns used by the fishermen at sea ​for fog or night signals were always available for the purpose. The mummers were very cautious, by careful disguise in dress or voice, and avoiding of anything directly libellous in their rather ribald dialogue, to keep themselves out of the clutches of the law. I remember one riding when an old rusty cannon of the smuggling period was waked up from its long quiet for service for the occasion, and bursting, led to the mutilation of several and the death of one." On the borders of Devon and in that county this ceremony was known as a "mock-hunt."
A lock of hair hanging down over the forehead is in Cornwall called "a widow's lock"; and children are still here told when that happens "to shed their hair back out of their eyes." A foolish warning says,
"Go thro' a gate when there's a stile hard by You'll be a widow before you die.
The sudden appearance of rats or mice in Cornish houses is said to be a certain forerunner of sickness and death. Many curious tales are told in confirmation of this superstition; one I particularly remember was in connection with a young man who was killed on the West Cornwall Railway. After the accident, they vanished as quickly as they came. It is also considered to be very unlucky for a bird to perch on the window-sill of a sick person's room, farewell then to all chances of recovery; and strange birds coming into a house foretell the death of some one in it, or connected with the family. I was once where a little child lay dying, a small brown bird sang on the window-sill, the nurse told me that it was waiting to carry away the child's soul. "But when a flea bites a sick person he is sure not to be dangerously ill, as it is well known that they never bite those who have had their death-stroke." The superstitions that you cannot die easily on pillows stuffed with wild bird's feathers, and that life goes out with the tide, are as current here as in other places. Death in Cornwall is often spoken of as "going round land," and "gone dead" is a common idiom. A threat to kill is occasionally conveyed in the words "I will give you your quietus." In some cases it is supposed that life may be restored after death if when the breath stops the ​body be violently shaken. When a member of a family dies, his death it is said will bring two others with it, from the idea that one misfortune never comes alone. A Cornish country vicarage was lately startled by the tolling at an unwonted hour of the church bell. On sending to ascertain the cause of the disturbance an "old inhabitant was found in the belfry, who had been engaged in the absence or illness of the usual sexton to dig the grave. He said in explanation that in his time it was always usual for the gravedigger to toll the bell three times before breaking the consecrated ground,"—J. H. C, Notes and Queries, 5th series, vol. ii. August, 1874.
A corpse should never be carried to church by a new road, and should a hearse stop on its way to the churchyard there will soon be another death in the house. Singing funerals, or as they are called in Cornwall buryings (pronounced "berrins"), were once almost universal (and one may still occasionally be met). The mourners and friends following the coffin sang as they walked through the streets or lanes their favourite hymns, often to most elaborate tunes.
"To shaw our sperrits lev-us petch The laast new berrin tune."—Tregellas.
Flowers and shrubs planted in Cornish churchyards are never plucked from the fear that the spirits of the departed will at night visit the desecrator. Cross-roads, the former burying-place of suicides, are after nightfall avoided, such spots being haunted.
With a few general superstitions, I shall bring this work to an end. It is unlucky in Cornwall to see the new moon first over the left shoulder, or through a window, especially if the day should happen to be a Friday. To ensure good luck on your first sight of her, you should curtsey, spit on your money and turn it in your pocket. (A man well paid for any chance job early in the day calls it here "a hansel," and spits on the money for good luck). If you particularly desire anything, look at the new moon and wish before you speak. You may also wish when you see a falling star, and if you can succeed ​in framing it before it disappears your wish will be granted. Seeing the new moon in the old moon's arms is a sign of a change in the weather, so is a star passing over it. The change will be for the worse if the moon goes over the star. "Herbs for drying must be gathered at full moon; winter fruit picked and stored at full moon, not to lose its plumpness. Timber should be felled on the bating of the moon, because the sap is then down, and the wood will be more durable."—Bottrell.
Two weather proverbs say, "That Cornwall will stand a shower every day, and two for Sundays;" and
"There is never a Saturday in the year But what the sun it doth appear."
Card-table Superstitions:—"Good luck in cards, bad luck in a husband (or wife)." "A shuffling cut is good for the dealer." "1 2 3 4 played in succession, kiss the dealer." To cut an honour for the trump card is unlucky, for "When quality opens the door there is poverty behind;" but "Good luck lurks under a black deuce" (it should be touched by the cutter).
Superstitions connected with the body:—A twitching in the eyelid is lucky; but you must not say when it comes nor when it goes. Eight eye itching, a sign of laughter; but left over right, you'll cry before night.
Right cheek burning, some one praising you; left one, abusing (a knot tied in the apron-string will cause the slanderer to bite his or her tongue); but left or right are both good at night. Nose itching, you will be kissed, cursed, or vexed; or shake hands with a fool.
Right hand itching, some one will pay or give you money; but the left you will be the payer. In regard to the former,
"If you rub it on wood, It will be sure to come good."
Fire Superstitions:—A difficulty in kindling the fire in the mornings is a sign of anger; burning only on one side, of a separation in the family (some say of a wedding). A flake of smut on the bar of the grate shows that a stranger is coming to the house. Should the ​fire be burning brightly, he will bring good news; but if the contrary, bad. If after you poke the fire it burns up brightly, your sweetheart is in a good temper; but should it not improve he is in a bad one. A coal popping out of the fire is either a cradle or coffin, or a purse. It is allowed to cool and then examined to find out the shape; if pronounced to be a purse, it is shaken close to the ear, when should it jingle it is said to contain money. I once saw this done in a school by its mistress.
"Ladies' trees," small branches of dried seaweed, are sometimes hang up in chimneys to protect houses from fire; or a Passover biscuit is suspended by a string from a nail in the wall for the same purpose.
A bright spark on a candle foretells a letter, but if pointed out it never arrives.
There are so many unlucky omens in Cornwall that to believe in them all would make life miserable, and to enumerate them would fill a volume. The major part of them too are silly and not worth transcribing; three or four of them as examples will I am quite sure amply suffice.
"If you sing afore bite, You'll cry before night."
"It is unlucky to sing carols before Christmas;" also, "To scat hands before Christmas," i.e., beat them for warmth.
"It is unluckly to pour out water or any other liquor back-handed."
"It is unlucky to lend, or say thank you for a pin." And
"If you see a pin, and pass it by, You'll want a pin before jou die."
"It is unlucky to mend your clothes on you, for then you will never grow rich."
It is unlucky to wear a hole in the bottom of a shoe for,
"A hole in the sole, You'll live to spend whole."
And with this distich, I will at last conclude this already, I am afraid, much too long a work.
* ↑ The word Meryons is also used in Cornwall as a term of endearment, "She's faather's little Meryon."
* ↑ See ante, "Cornish Feasts and Feasten Customs."
* ↑ Fuggan, a cake made of flour and raisins often eaten by miners for dinner.
* ↑ Didjan, a tiny bit.
* ↑ Some say you must neither whistle nor swear, but you may sing and laugh.
* ↑ All men are boys in Cornwall.
* ↑ Train-oil is expressed from them.
* ↑ To "bulk" pilchards is to place them, after they have been rubbed with salt, in large regular heaps, alternately heads and tails.
* ↑ And "Cornish Feasts and Feasten Customs."
* ↑ The illiterate Cornish often double their negatives: "I don't knowr, not I," "I'll never do it, no, never no more."
* ↑ See ante.
* ↑ Fuggan, a flat cake.
* ↑ Brend, to knit the brows.
* ↑ Tap a shoe, to sole.
* ↑ A similar superstition prevails about breakages, and a servant who has had the misfortune to break a valuable piece of china will sometimes smash a common basin or tea-cup to arrest the ill-luck.
* ↑ "Pitch a tune," to give the keynote.
* ↑ Scat, to slap.