Page images
PDF
EPUB

was overjoyed at the prospect of success, and as soon as he saw the casks, he exclaimed, "I believe I shall have it." The door immediately closed with a loud clang, and a voice in the air exclaimed

[blocks in formation]

The belief that the quicken-tree is of great efficacy against the power of witches is still in force in the North of England. The yew-tree was formerly employed in witchcraft, a practice alluded to in Macbeth :

Liver of blaspheming Jew,
Gall of goats, and slips of yew,
Sliver'd in the moon's eclipse.

FINGER-NAILS.

There is a superstition, says Forby, ii. 411, respecting cutting the nails, and some days are considered more lucky for this operation than others. To cut them on a Tuesday is thought particularly auspicious. Indeed if we are to believe an old rhyming saw on this subject, every day of the week is endowed with its several and peculiar virtue, if the nails are invariably cut on that day and no other. The lines are as follow:

Cut them on Monday, you cut them for health; Cut them on Tuesday, you cut them for wealth; Cut them on Wednesday, you cut them for news; Cut them on Thursday, a new pair of shoes; Cut them on Friday, you cut them for sorrow; Cut them on Saturday, see your true love to-morrow; Cut them on Sunday, the devil will be with you all the week. The following divination-rhymes refer to the gifts, or white spots on the nails, beginning with the thumb, and

going on regularly to the little finger. The last gift will show the destiny of the operator pro tempore,—

[blocks in formation]

Monday's child is fair in face,
Tuesday's child is full of grace,
Wednesday's child is full of woe,
Thursday's child has far to go,
Friday's child is loving and giving,
Saturday's child works hard for its living;
And a child that's born on Christmas day
Is fair and wise, good and gay.

COLOURS.

Colour-superstitions, though rapidly disappearing, still obtain in the remote rural districts. The following lines were obtained from the East of England:

Blue is true,
Yellow's jealous,
Green's forsaken,
Red's brazen,

White is love,

And black is death!

THE MAN IN THE MOON.

The Man in the Moon

Sups his sowins with a cutty-spoon.

A Northumberland dish called sowins, is composed of the coarse parts of oatmeal, which are put into a tub, and covered with water, and then allowed to stand till it turns sour. A portion of it is then taken out, and sapped with milk. It may easily be imagined that this is a substance not very accessible to the movements of a cutty or very small spoon.

Grimm, Deutsche Mythologie, p. 412, informs us that there are three legends connected with the Man in the Moon; the first, that this personage was Isaac carrying a bundle of sticks for his own sacrifice; the second, that he was Cain; and the other, which is taken from the history of the Sabbath-breaker, as related in the Book of Numbers. The last is still generally current in this country, and is alluded to by Chaucer, and many early writers. The second is mentioned by Dante, Inferno, xx., Cain sacrificing to the Lord thorns, the most wretched production of the ground,

It

-chè già tiene 'l confine

D'amenduo gli emisperi, e tocca l'onda
Sotto Sibilia, Caino e le spine.

appears that sowins were not the only food of the lunary inhabitant, for it is related by children he once favoured middle-earth with his presence, and took a fancy to some pease-porridge, which he was in such a hurry to devour that he scalded his mouth :

The Man in the Moon
Came tumbling down,

And asked his way to Norwich;

He went by the south,

And burnt his mouth

With supping hot pease-porridge.

His chief beverage, as everybody knows, was claret:

The Man in the Moon drinks claret,
But he is a dull Jack-a-Dandy;

Would he know a sheep's head from a carrot,
He should learn to drink cyder and brandy.

Another old ballad commences,

--

The Man in the Moon drinks claret,
With powder-beef, turnip, and carrot.

230

X.-CUSTOM-RHYMES.

It is greatly to be feared that, notwithstanding the efforts made within the last few years by individuals who have desired to see the resuscitation of the merry sports and customs of old England, the spirit which formerly characterised them is not to be recovered. The mechanical spirit of the age has thrown a degree of ridicule over observances which have not been without use in their day; and might even now be rendered beneficial to the public, were it possible to exclude the influence which tells the humbler subject such matters are below his regard. Yet it must be confessed that most of our ancient customs are only suited to the thinly-populated rural districts, where charity, goodwill, and friendship may be delicately cultivated under the plea of their observance.

CHRISTMAS.

Ha wish ye a merry Chresamas,
An a happy new year,

A pantry full a' good rost beef,
An a barril full a' beer.

To these lines we may add the following North-country nursery song:

Now Christmas is come, and now Pappy's come home,
Wi' a pegtop for Tammie, a hussif for Sue;
A new bag o' marbles for Dick; and for Joan,
A workbox; for Phoebe a bow for her shoe:
For Cecily singing a humming-top comes,

For dull drowsie Marie a sleeping-top meet;
For Ben, Ned, and Harry, a fife and two drums,
For Jennie a box of nice sugar-plums sweet.

CHRISTMAS MUMMERS' PLAY.

A rude drama is performed at Christmas by the guisers or mummers in most parts of England and Scotland, but the versions are extremely numerous, and no less than six copies have reached me differing materially from each other. In the following copy, which is the most perfect one I have been able to procure, the dramatis persona consist of a Fool, St. George, Slasher, a Doctor, Prince of Paradine, King of Egypt, Hector, Beelzebub, and little Devil Doubt. I am informed that this drama is occasionally acted at Easter as well as at Christmas.

Enter Actors.

Fool. Room, room, brave gallants, give us room to sport, For in this room we wish for to resort,

Resort, and to repeat to you our merry rhyme,
For remember, good sirs, this is Christmas time!
The time to cut up goose-pies now doth appear,
So we are come to act our merry Christmas here;
At the sound of the trumpet and beat of the drum,
Make room, brave gentlemen, and let our actors come!
We are the merry actors that traverse the street,
We are the merry actors that fight for our meat;
We are the merry actors that show pleasant play.
Step in, St. George, thou champion, and clear the way.

Enter ST. GEORGE.

I am St. George, who from old England sprung,
My famous name throughout the world hath rung;
Many bloody deeds and wonders have I made known,
And made the tyrants tremble on their throne.
I followed a fair lady to a giant's gate,
Confined in dungeon deep to meet her fate;
Then I resolved, with true knight-errantry,
To burst the door, and set the prisoner free;
When a giant almost struck me dead,
But by my valour I cut off his head.
I've searched the world all round and round,
But a man to equal me I never found.

« PreviousContinue »