Chapter XXII: Appendix (7)

About Boston a similar game is much played under the name of "Otadama," or "Japanese jacks." Seven little silk bags are filled with rice, one, of a different color from the rest, being called the "jack." The game consists of four parts. In the first figure, the silk bags being placed on the floor, the "jack" is thrown up, and the other six picked up one by one, being so deposited as to keep them together in groups of twos, so that two at a time may be caught up, which is the next thing to be done. Then come groups of three, four and two, and five and one, next the six together, the bags, after being caught, being so dropped as to prepare for the following movements. The next motion is "tattoo," which consists in throwing up the "jack" and catching it on the back of the hand, then throwing it up again from the back of the hand and catching it in the fingers, without turning over the palm.

The second figure contains "second ones," "second twos," "second threes," "second fours," "second fives," "second sixes." These are the same as in the first figure, except that in each case the bags caught, instead of being merely dropped from the hand, as before, are tossed up together with the "jack," which last must be caught again before falling. In the second and third figures "tattoo" follows every movement.

The third figure begins with "third sixes," in which, the six bags being caught up and held tightly, the "jack" is again tossed, the six slapped on the floor, and the "jack" caught on the back of the hand. The second motion is "fourth sixes," which resembles second sixes, except that the "jack" is now caught on the back of the hand. Next comes "touch." The six bags are caught up, thrown with the "jack" into the air, and the floor is touched with the middle finger, before catching the "jack." After this follows "fours and threes," in which, the six bags having been caught up, the palm is turned uppermost with the seven bags (including the "jack"), and it is required to throw off first four at a time, and afterwards the other three. "Pack up" is the next motion. The six bags are caught up, compactly arranged in the palm of the hand, and must be thrown up and caught on the back of the hand. Two chances are allowed. The bags dropped the first time may be tried by themselves. Then "third ones," which is the same as "second ones," except that, the bags being placed in a row with the "jack" at the left, the "jack" is constantly exchanged for each bag that is caught up. "Tattoo" follows each of these movements.

The fourth and last figure is done with the left hand. The palm is turned towards the floor, upon which all the bags lie in a row, the "jack" at the right; a bag is then picked up by the thumb and forefinger, keeping the other fingers extended, and is tossed on the back of the hand. It must remain there while the second bag is picked up, and is tossed off the hand when the second is tossed on. This motion is repeated with the other five, ending with the "jack," and the game is finished with "tattoo."

The game is played by two or more. In case of an error, the next plays; but an error in the last figure requires the player to go back to the beginning of the game. The "jack" is often made square and somewhat flat, while the other bags are drawn up at two ends, and have a rounder shape. It is necessary that they should be soft and flexible.

This game is of Japanese origin, "Tedama"[116]--that is, "Hand-balls"--being its proper name. As the specimen given shows, it closely resembles the ancient game of "Five-stones." We are informed, on Japanese authority, that stones are habitually used by boys in playing, and that the number of these varies. There can be no doubt that the two forms of this amusement are branches of the same root; and we thus have an example of a game which, having preserved its essential characteristics for thousands of years, has fairly circumnavigated the globe, so that the two currents of tradition, westward and eastward, from Europe and Asia, have met in America.

FOOTNOTES:

[107] "Do you like best to stay at father's or grandma's?" "There's the most berries at grandma's--I'll rather be there."

_Georgia Boy._

[108] Sphaeromachia.

[109] Made, according to Johnson, with the leaves of newly sprung herbs.

[110] The identical name in Austria, "Kinder."

[111] They are descendants of emigrants from the Upper Rhine, and speak a dialect resembling that of the Palatinate, but mixed with English words.

[112] The like method in Austria, where the general idea of the game, and many particulars, are the same. There are, however, only two bases. The same way, even to the ability to throw the bat with two fingers, which is the test of a doubtful hold, is used in Switzerland to determine choice of sides in the game answering to No. 139. These coincidences seem to point to a remote antiquity of usage.

[113] "Fen burnings!" "Roundings!" "Dubs!" "Knuckle down tight where you lay!" "Burnings" signifies breathing on a marble, and thereby getting certain advantages. The lads whom we quote never used the word marbles, but _mibs_. "Let's play mibs."

[114] "Cherry-pits are in now; buttons won't be in for a fortnight."--_New York boy._

[115] Communicated by the late Mr. George Nichols, of Cambridge, Mass., formerly of Salem. The common name, _Jack-stones_, seems to be a corruption for _Chuck-stones_, small stones which can be chucked or thrown. "Chuckie-stanes," in Scotland, means small pebbles. "Checkstones, small pebbles with which children play."--_Dialect of Craven._

[116] O-tédama (pronounce as in Italian) is, we learn, compounded of _O_, the, _te_, hand, and _tama_, balls. It is played with song, which consists in chanting the titles of the several movements; thus, in the first figure, (1) O Hito, (2) O Fu, (3) O Mi, (4) O Yo, (5) O Itzu, (6) O Mu. The second figure, in which begins _Tonkiri_ ("tattoo"), is called Zakara (a meaningless word); and the chant is, (1) O Hito Zakara, (2) O Fu Zakara, (3) O Mi Zakara, etc. These numbers are children's numeration, of which there are two sorts; the present series continues, (7) Nana, (8) Ya, (9) Kono, (10) To. We have varying forms from a friend in Hartford, Conn., where the song has been borrowed from Japanese students. Probably provincial usages in Japan differ. We give the above terms (not the game, which is current in the United States), as written by a Japanese gentleman. It is noteworthy that this childish system has no connection with the regular table.

XIV.

_RHYMES FOR COUNTING OUT._

Petite fille de Paris,
Prête-moi tes souliers gris,
Pour aller en Paradis.
Nous irons un à un,
Dans le chemin des Saints;
Deux à deux,
Sur le chemin des cieux.

_French Counting Rhyme._

No. 149.

_Counting Rhymes._

There are various ways in which children decide who shall begin in a game, or, as the phrase is, be "it."[117] When this position is an advantage, it is often determined by the simple process of "speaking first." So far as can be determined when all are shouting at once, the first speaker is then entitled to the best place. Otherwise it is the practice to draw straws, the shortest gaining; to "toss up" a coin, "heads or tails;" or to choose between the two hands, one of which holds a pebble.

The most interesting way of decision, however, is by employing the rhymes for "counting out." A child tells off with his finger one word of the rhyme for each of the group, and he on whom the last word falls is "out."[118] This process of exclusion is continued until one only is left, who has the usually unpleasant duty of leading in the sport. All European nations possess such rhymes, and apply them in a like manner. These have the common peculiarity of having very little sense, being often mere jargons of unmeaning sounds. This does not prevent them from being very ancient. People of advanced years often wonder to find their grandchildren using the same formulas, without the change of a word. The identity between American and English usage establishes the currency of some such for three centuries, since they must have been in common use at the time of the settlement of this country. We may be tolerably sure that Shakespeare and Sidney directed their childish sports by the very same rhymes which are still employed for the purpose. Furthermore, German and other languages, while they rarely exhibit the identical phrases, present us with types which resemble our own, and obviously have a common origin. Such a relation implies a very great antiquity; and it becomes a matter of no little curiosity to determine the origin of a practice which must have been consecrated by the childish usage of all the great names of modern history.

This origin is by no means clear; but we may make remarks which will at least clear away misconceptions. We begin with that class of formulas which we have marked from 1 to 13 inclusive.

Respecting these rhymes, we observe, in the first place, that they are meaningless. We might suppose that they were originally otherwise; for example, we might presume that the first of the formulas given below had once been an imitation or parody of some list of saints, or of some charm or prayer. A wider view, however, shows that the rhymes are in fact a mere jargon of sound, and that such significance, where it appears to exist, has been interpreted into the lines. We observe further, that, in despite of the antiquity of some of these formulas, their liability to variation is so great that phrases totally different in sound and apparent sense may at any time be developed out of them.

These variations are effected chiefly in two ways--rhyme and alliteration. A change in the termination of a sound has often involved the introduction of a whole line to correspond; and in this manner a fragment of nursery song may be inserted which totally alters the character of the verse. Again, the desire for a quaint alliterative effect has similarly changed the initial letters of the words of the formulas, according as the whim of the moment suggested.

From the fact that neither rhyme nor alliteration is any guide to the relations of these formulas, but seem arbitrarily introduced, we might conclude that the original type had neither one nor the other of these characteristics. This view is confirmed by European forms in which they appear as mere lists of unconnected words, possessing some equality of tone. Rhythm is a more permanent quality in them than termination or initial. From these considerations it appears likely that the original form of the rhymes of which we speak was that of a comparatively brief list of dissyllabic or trisyllabic words.

Now, when we observe that the first word of all the rhymes of this class is obviously a form of the number _one_; that the second word appears to be _two_, or a euphonic modification of _two_, and that numbers are perpetually introducing themselves into the series, it is natural to suppose that these formulas may have arisen from simple numeration.

This supposition is made more probable by a related and very curious system of counting up to twenty (of which examples will be found below), first brought into notice by Mr. Alexander J. Ellis, vice-president of the Philological Society of Great Britain, and called by him the "Anglo-Cymric Score." Dr. J. Hammond Trumbull, of Hartford, Conn., noticing the correspondence of Mr. Ellis's score with numerals attributed to a tribe of Indians in Maine (the Wawenocs), was led to make inquiries, which have resulted in showing that the method of counting in question was really employed by Indians in dealing with the colonists, having been remembered in Rhode Island, Connecticut, Massachusetts, New Hampshire, and Ohio (where it passed for genuine Indian numeration), and in this way handed down to the present generation as a curiosity. Mr. Ellis has found this score to be still in use in parts of England--principally in Cumberland, Westmoreland, and Yorkshire, where it is employed by shepherds to count their sheep, by old women to enumerate the stitches of their knitting, by boys and girls for "counting out," or by nurses to amuse children. It is, therefore, apparent that this singular method of numeration must have been tolerably familiar in the mother-country in the seventeenth century, since the Indians evidently learned it from the early settlers of New England. It appears, indeed, that not only the score itself, but also its chief variations, must have been established at that time. Mr. Ellis, however, who has shown that the basis of these formulas is Welsh, is disposed "to regard them as a comparatively recent importation" into England. Be that as it may, we see that the elements of change we have described, alliteration and rhyme, have been busy with the series. While the score has preserved its identity as a list of numerals, the successive pairs of numbers have been altered beyond all recognition, and with perfect arbitrariness.

It is plain that our counting rhymes cannot have been formed from the "Anglo-Cymric score," since the latter is only in use in parts of England, while the former are common to many European nations. Nothing, however, prevents the supposition that they owe their origin to a similar root. All that can be said is, that no modern language is responsible for the practice, which can hardly be supposed to have originated within the last thousand years.

Turning now to other types of formulas for counting, we see that any game-rhyme or nursery verse may do duty for such. Of lines used solely for this purpose, we find forms which have analogies on the continent of Europe. Some of the childish verses so used, like the French rhyme we have set at the head of our chapter, contain allusions which stamp them as ancient. On the other hand, it seems that, in our own country, little American inventions of the sort, recommended by some attractive quaintness, have gained currency, unwritten as of course they are, from Canada to the Gulf.

It appears, from foreign usage, that it was formerly common for each game to have its own especial formula for "counting out," a practice of which we have an example in No. 107.

(1.) Onery, uery, hickory, Ann,
Fillison, follason, Nicholas John,
Queevy, quavy, Virgin Mary,
Singalum, sangalum, buck.

--_Philadelphia._

(2.) Onery, uery, ickory, Ann,
Filisy, folasy, Nicholas John,
Queevy, quavy, Irish Mary,
Stingalum, stangalum, buck.[119]

--_New England._

(3.) Onery, uery, ickory, Ann,
Fillison, follason, Nicholas John,
Queevy, quavy, English navy,

Stinkalum, stankalum, John Buck.
=B-u-c-k= spells buck.

--_Cincinnati_ (1880).

(4.) Onery, uery, ickory, a,
Hallibone, crackabone, ninery-lay,
Whisko, bango, poker my stick,
Mejoliky one leg!

--_Scituate, Mass._ (about 1800).

(5.) Onery, uery, hickory, able,
Hallowbone, crackabone, Timothy, ladle,
* * * * *

--_Salem, Mass._[120]

(6.) One's all, zuzall, titterall, tann,
Bobtailed vinegar, little Paul ran,
Harum scarum, merchant marum,
Nigger, turnpike, toll-house, out.

--_Salem, Mass._[121]

(7.) One-amy, uery, hickory, seven,
Hallibone, crackabone, ten and eleven,
Peep--O, it must be done,
Twiggle, twaggle, twenty-one.

--_Georgia._[122]

(8.) Onery, uery, ickery, see,
Huckabone, crackabone, tillibonee;
Ram pang, muski dan,
Striddledum, straddledum, twenty-one.[123]

--_Connecticut._

(9.) Eny, meny, mony, my,
Tusca, leina, bona, stry,
Kay bell, broken well,
We, wo, wack.[124]

--_Massachusetts._

(10.) Eny, meny, mony, mine,
Hasdy, pasky, daily, ine,
Agy, dagy, walk.

--_Connecticut._

(11.) Eny, meny, mony, mite,
Butter, lather, bony strike,
Hair cut, froth neck,
Halico balico,
We, wo, wack.

--_Philadelphia._

(12.) Ena, mena, mona, my,
Panalona, bona, stry,
Ee wee, fowl's neck,
Hallibone, crackabone, ten and eleven,
O-u-t spells out.

(13.) Intery, mintery, cutery corn,
Apple-seed and apple-thorn,
Wire, briar, limber lock,
Five mice in a flock;
Catch him Jack,
Hold him Tom,
Blow the bellows,
Old man out.

--_Massachusetts._

(14.) Ikkamy, dukkamy, alligar, mole,
Dick slew alligar slum,
Hukka pukka, Peter's gum,
Francis.

--_Massachusetts._

(15.) 1. ane.
2. tane.
3. tother.
4. feather.
5. fip.
6. sother.
7. lother.
8. co.
9. deffrey.
10. dick.
11. een dick.
12. teen dick.
13. tother dick.
14. feather dick.
15. bumfrey.
16. een bumfrey.
17. teen bumfrey.
18. tother bumfrey.
19. feather bumfrey.
20. gig it.

(16.) 1. een.
2. teen.
3. tuther.
4. futher.
5. fip.
6. sother.
7. lother.
8. porter.
9. dubber.
10. dick.
11. een dick.
12. teen dick.
13. tuther dick.
14. futher dick.
15. bumpit.
16. een bumpit.
17. teen bumpit.
18. tuther bumpit.
19. futher bumpit.
20. gig it.[125]

(17.) Stick, stock, stone dead,
Set him up,
Set him down,
Set him in the old man's crown.

--_Philadelphia._

(18.) Apples and oranges, two for a penny,
Takes a good scholar to count as many;
O-u-t, out goes she.

--_Philadelphia._

(19.) a, b, c, d, e, f, g,
h, i, j, k, l, m, n, o, p,
q, r, s, t,
u are out.

--_Cincinnati._

(20.) 1, 2, 3, 4,
Mary at the kitchen-door,
5, 6, 7, 8,
Mary at the garden-gate.

--_Massachusetts_ (1820).

(21.) 1, 2, 3, 4,
Lily at the kitchen-door,
Eating grapes off the plate,
5, 6, 7, 8.

--_Philadelphia_ (1880).

(22.) 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8,
Mary sat at the garden-gate,
Eating plums off a plate,
1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8.

(23.) 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7,
All good children go to heaven.

--_Massachusetts to Pennsylvania._

(24.) 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8,
All bad children have to wait.

--_Massachusetts._

(25.) Monkey, monkey, bottle of beer,
How many monkeys are there here?
1, 2, 3,
You are he (she).

--_Massachusetts to Georgia._

(26.) Linnet, linnet,
Come this minute,
Here's a house with something in it;
This was built for me, I know.

--_Philadelphia._

(27.) School's up, school's down,
School's all around the town.

(28.) Three potatoes in a pot,
Take one out and leave it hot.

--_Philadelphia._

(29.) Mittie Mattie had a hen,
She laid eggs for gentlemen,
Sometimes nine and sometimes ten.

--_Georgia._

(30.) William a Trimbletoe,
He's a good fisherman,
Catch his hands, put them in pens,
Some fly East, some fly West,
Some fly over the cuckoo's nest--
O-u-t spells out and be gone.

--_Georgia._

(31.) Red, white, and blue,
All out but you.

--_Philadelphia._

(32.) Engine No. 9,
Out goes she.

--_Philadelphia._

(33.) As I went up the apple-tree,
All the apples fell on me;
Bake a pudding, bake a pie,
Did you ever tell a lie?
Yes, you did, you know you did,
You broke your mother's teapot-lid--
L-i-d, that spells lid.

--_Cincinnati._

(34.) Little man, driving cattle,
Don't you hear his money rattle?
One, two, three,
Out goes he (she).

--_Massachusetts._

(35.) Monday's child is fair of face,
Tuesday's child is full of grace,
Wednesday's child is sour and sad,
Thursday's child is merry and glad,
Friday's child is full of sin,
Saturday's child is pure within;
The child that is born on the Sabbath day,
To heaven its steps shall tend alway.[126]

--_Georgia._

FOOTNOTES:

[117] The French expression is the same, _l'être_ or _en être_. The Germans do not use an equivalent, but say to be _in_, to be _out_; _sein daran, sein daraus_.

[118] An old way of arranging this is for each of the group to put a finger inside a hat, in order that the words may be told off on the fingers.

[119] English _onery_, _twoery_, etc. The forms we give date back to about 1820, before the publication of the "Nursery Rhymes of England." There are numerous small variations. "_Virgin_ Mary" we have from informants in the Middle States; "_Irish_ Mary" was the common New England phrase.

[120] This rhyme was used only by _girls_. Boys employed No. 2, and would have been laughed at for counting like girls.

[121] Used by _boys_ in the western part of the town, where were the toll-house and negro settlement.

[122] English rhymes:

Oneery, twoery, ziccary, zan,
Hollowbone, crackabone, ninery, ten--etc.

[123] This class of formulas (Nos. 1 to 8) appear to be mere variations of the same type, a fact which does not prevent individual forms from exhibiting a wonderful permanence. We consider as identical a class of German formulas, very wide-spread and variable, thus:

(_a._) Unichi, dunichi, tipel-te! Tibel, tabel, domine.
(_b._) Eckati peckati zuchati me, Avi schavi domine.
(_c._) Aeniga mäniga tumpel-ti, Tifel, tafel numine.
(_d._) Anigl panigl subtrahi! Tivi tavi, domini.
(_e._) Endeli bändeli deffendé, Gloria tibi domine.

A rhyme quoted by Mr. Ellis from the _Millhill Magazine_ (a school paper), and credited to America, is similar:

(_f._) Eeney, meeny, tipty te, Teena, Dinah, Domine.

The following formulas from Transylvania are of a simpler type; the first is said to imitate the _Gipsy_, the second the _Magyar_, speech:

(_g._) Unemi, dunemi, tronemi, ronemi, donemi,
ronza, konza, jewla, dewla, tschok!

(_h._) Aketum, täketum, tinum, tanum, ärsak, märsak, etc.

We take the latter type to be a nearer approach to the original form. All sorts of intermediate stages can be observed from between these lists and the more complicated examples; but we find no signs of numbers above ten, as in the "Anglo-Cymric score." The Russian and Finnish tongues present similar rhymed lists, while many Italian rhymes are of like origin, though disguised and extended.

[124] In North Germany:

Ene tene mone mei, Paster Lone bone, strei,
Ene fune herke berke, Wer? wie? wo? was?

As this is but one case of identity out of many hundreds, we suppose the rhyme borrowed from the English. There are many German rhymes beginning "Ene mene mu," or similarly; but the variation of the first sounds is endless: ene dene, ene tene, ene mene, ente twente, entele mentele, ane tane, unig tunig, oringa loringa, etc.; by association or rhyme, any nursery song may be introduced, or the first words may be dropped.

[125] These examples of the "Anglo-Cymric score" (see page 196) were obtained, No. 15 from Mrs. Ellis Allen of West Newton, now ninety years of age, who was born at Scituate, Mass., where she learned the formula; and No. 16 of her daughter, who learned it from an Indian woman, _Mary Wolsomog_, of Natick. Though mother and daughter, neither had ever heard the other's version of the score. To illustrate the relation of this score with Welsh numerals, we add two examples from Mr. Ellis's paper ("reprinted for private circulation from the Transactions of the Philological Society for 1877-8-9," pp. 316-372), selected from his fifty-three versions; the first is from England, the second from Ireland:

1. aina.
2. peina.
3. para.
4. peddera.
5. pimp.
6. ithy.
7. mithy.
8. owera.
9. lowera.
10. dig.
11. ain-a-dig.
12. pein-a-dig.
13. par-a-dig.
14. pedder-a-dig.
15. bumfit.
16. ain-a-bumfit.
17. pein-a-bumfit.
18. par-a-bumfit.
19. pedder-a-bumfit.
20. giggy.

1. eina.
2. mina.
3. pera.
4. peppera.
5. pinn.
6. chester.
7. nester.
8. nera.
9. dickera.
10. nin.
11. eina dickera.
12. mina dickera.
13. pera dickera.
14. peppera dickera.
15. pumpi.
16. eina pumpi.
17. mina pumpi.
18. pera pumpi.
19. peppera pumpi.
20. ticket.

The modern Welsh numerals, as given by Mr. Ellis:

1. un.
2. dau.
3. tri.
4. pedwar.
5. pump.
6. chwech.
7. saith.
8. wyth.
9. nau.
10. deg.
11. un ar deg.
12. deuddeg.
13. tri ar deg.
14. pedwar ar deg.
15. pymtheg.
16. un ar bymtheg.
17. dau ar bymtheg.
18. tri ar bymtheg.
19. pedwar ar bymtheg.
20. ugain.

The numbers 4, 5, 15, and combinations 1+15, 2+15, 3+15, 4+15, seem to make the connection unmistakable; but 2, 3, 6, 7, 8, 9 appear to have been arbitrarily affected by rhyme and alliteration.

[126] This verse is used as a counting rhyme by children in the state mentioned.

XV.

_MYTHOLOGY._

In the olde dayes of the Kyng Arthour,
Of which that Britouns speken gret honour,
Al was this land fulfilled of fayrye.

_The Wife of Baths Tale._

No. 150.

_London Bridge._

No game has been more popular with children than this, and any summer evening, in the poorer quarters of the cities, it may still be seen how six years instructs three years in the proper way of conducting it. Two players, by their uplifted hands, form an arch, representing the bridge, under which passes the train of children, each clinging to the garments of the predecessor, and hurrying to get safely by. The last of the train is caught by the lowered arms of the guardians of the bridge, and asked, "Will you have a diamond necklace or a gold pin?" "a rose or a cabbage?" or some equivalent question. The keepers have already privately agreed which of the two each of these objects shall represent, and, according to the prisoner's choice, he is placed behind one or the other. When all are caught, the game ends with a "Tug of War," the two sides pulling against each other; and the child who lets go, and breaks the line, is pointed at and derided. The words of the rhyme sung while the row passes under the bridge are now reduced to two lines,

London Bridge is falling down,
My fair lady!

Readers may wonder why this well-known game should be classed as _mythological_; but such a character appears in the European versions. Thus, in Suabia, the two keepers of the "Golden Bridge" are called respectively the "Devil" and the "Angel," and the object is to decide who shall be devils and who angels. In France the game is known as "Heaven and Hell." The children who have made a good choice, after the selection is finished, pursue the devils, making the sign of horns with fingers extended from the forehead. In Italy, the name of the sport is "Open the Gates." The gates are those of the Inferno and of Paradise; _St. Peter_ is the keeper of one, _St. Paul_ of the other. The children choose between _wine_ and _water_; but when the destiny of the last child is decided, the two girls who represent the keepers of the bridge break their arch of lifted hands and move in different directions, followed by their subjects, "while the cries and shrieks of the players condemned to the Inferno contrast with the pathetic songs and sweet cadences of those destined to the happiness of Paradise."

The game is mentioned by Rabelais (about A.D. 1533) under the name of the "Fallen Bridge."

In German versions, the keepers are called "Devil and Angel," "King and Emperor," or "Sun and Moon." In this latter form the game has been one of the few kept up by the Germans of Pennsylvania, who call it the "Bridge of Holland."[127]

Connected with this game in Massachusetts is a curious piece of local lore. A lady[128] recollects that, in the first years of the century, a pedler came to her father's house in Plymouth, Mass., and, in default of three cents change, left a "chap-book" or pamphlet of that value, called "Mother Goose's Melodies." In this pamphlet (the first authentic mention of a publication of that title) the song was included, in the familiar words; but, instead of _London_ bridge, _Charlestown_ bridge was substituted in the rhyme. In that form only the verses were familiar to herself and her companions.

Charlestown Bridge, over Charles River, connected Boston with Cambridge and other suburban towns, before that time only accessible by ferry or a long detour. The bridge was "dedicated" July 17, 1786; and was, in the eyes of the rustic population of Massachusetts, quite as important a structure as the London erection of the thirteenth century. The project was undertaken after a long incubation of sixty years, and not without many apprehensions lest the vast masses of ice rushing down the river in winter should sweep it away. The cost was fifteen thousand pounds. At the celebration, a salute of thirteen guns was fired from Fort Hill, "almost every person of respectable character in private and public life walked in the procession," and eight hundred persons sat down to dinner. No wonder that its fame superseded, locally at least, that of the celebrated structure which was so long the wonder of London, and so sacred in nursery lore. We may thus form an idea of the importance of bridges in earlier times--which importance, and the superstitions consequent, were the root of our game--and also of the tendency of each town to localize its traditions, even those of the nursery.

With the exception of the name, the words of the song, in the chap-book referred to, were identical with those of the familiar English version. We learn from another informant that these same words (this time, however, under the proper title of London Bridge) were often used as a dance-song at children's parties about the beginning of the century. The dancers sat in a circle, a boy next a girl; as each verse was sung, the lad whose turn it was led out his partner and promenaded, suiting action to meaning. The exact verbal correspondence, and absence of the original mode of playing, show that this version of the song, and consequently the rhymes of the pamphlet called "Mother Goose's Melodies," were not taken from the lips of Americans, but reprinted from English sources.

The version repeatedly printed in books for children is not truly popular. It has been remodelled by the recorder, and so the original idea has been disguised. We have, however, the pleasure of offering a genuine English version. We add fragments of American forms, and finally a curious text, for which Ireland is ultimately responsible. From these, taken together, the character of the old English game can be made out.

* * * * *

A.--Song of Charlestown Bridge, as printed (probably about 1786) in the chap-book, "Mother Goose's Melodies:"

Charlestown Bridge is broken down,
Dance o'er my lady Lee;
Charlestown Bridge is broken down,
With a gay lady.

How shall we build it up again?
Dance o'er my lady Lee, etc.

Build it up with silver and gold,
Dance o'er my lady Lee, etc.

Silver and gold will be stole away,
Dance o'er my lady Lee, etc.

Build it up with iron and steel,
Dance o'er my lady Lee, etc.

Iron and steel will bend and bow,
Dance o'er my lady Lee, etc.

Build it up with wood and clay,
Dance o'er my lady Lee, etc.

Wood and clay will wash away,
Dance o'er my lady Lee, etc.

Build it up with stone so strong,
Dance o'er my lady Lee,
Huzza! 'twill last for ages long,
With a gay lady.

B.--

London Bridge is broken down,
Dance over my lady Lee;
London Bridge is broken down,
With the gay lady.

How shall we mend it up again?
Dance over my lady Lee;
How shall we mend it up again
For the gay lady?

We will mend it up with gravel and sand,
Dance over my lady Lee;
We will mend it up with gravel and sand
For the gay lady.

But gravel and sand will wash away,
Dance over my lady Lee;
Gravel and sand will wash away
From the gay lady.

We will mend it up with iron and steel,
Dance over my lady Lee;
We will mend it up with iron and steel
For the gay lady.

But iron and steel will bend and break,
Dance over my lady Lee;
Iron and steel will bend and break,
With the gay lady.

We will mend it up with silver and gold,
Dance over my lady Lee;
We will mend it up with silver and gold
For the gay lady.

Silver and gold will be stolen away,
Dance over my lady Lee;
Silver and gold will be stolen away
From the gay lady.

We will put a man to watch all night,
Dance over my lady Lee;
We will put a man to watch all night
For the gay lady.

Suppose the man should fall asleep?
Dance over my lady Lee;
Suppose the man should fall asleep?
My gay lady!

We will put a pipe into his mouth,
Dance over my lady Lee;
We will put a pipe into his mouth,
For the gay lady.[129]

C.--

London Bridge is falling down,
Falling down, falling down,
London Bridge is falling down,
My fair lady!

You've stole my watch and kept my keys,
My fair lady!

Off to prison she must go,
My fair lady!

Take the key and lock her up,
My fair lady![130]

--_Boston, Mass._

D.--

London Bridge is falling down,
My fair lady!

What did the robber do to you?
My fair lady!

He broke my watch and stole my keys,
My fair lady!

Then off to prison he must go,
My fair lady!

--_Savannah, Ga._

E.--Our last version is from the convent-school of Savannah, and, although recited by a girl of American birth, is of Irish origin:

London Bridge is falling down, etc.
_My fair lady!_
How shall we build it up again?--
Build it up with lime and stone.--
Stone and lime would wash away.--
Build it up with iron bars.--
Iron bars would bend and break.--
Build it up with gold and silver.--
Gold and silver would be stole away.--
Get a watch to watch all night.--
Suppose the watch should fall asleep?--
Get him a pipe to smoke all night.--
Suppose the pipe should fall and break?--
Get a dog to bark all night.--
Suppose the dog should get a bone?--
Get a cock to crow all night.--
Suppose the cock should fly away?--
What has this poor prisoner done?--
He's broke my box and stole my keys.--
A hundred pounds will set him free.--
A hundred pounds he has not got.--
Off to prison he must go,
_My fair lady!_[131]

As to the origin of this remarkable game, our citations have already made clear that one of its features consists in a representation of the antagonism of celestial and infernal powers, and the final decision by which each soul is assigned a place on the one side or the other. It was universally believed in the Middle Ages, that the soul, separated from the body, had to cross a dangerous bridge, and subsequently undergo a literal weighing in the balance, according to the result of which its destiny was decided. It is in the nature of things that children, conversant with these ideas, should have dramatized them in their sports. We see no reason, with the German writers, to go back to ancient Northern mythology; nor do we find any ground for believing that our game is more likely to be of Teutonic than Romance descent.

We suspect, however, that that part of the sport which relates to the warfare of good and evil powers does not belong to the original idea, but that a still more primitive game has taken on an ending which was common to many amusements in the Middle Ages. The central point of the whole is the repeated downfall of the structure. Now there is a distinct mythologic reason for such a representation. In early times no edifice was so important as a bridge, which renders intercourse possible between districts heretofore separated. Hence the sanctity attributed in mediæval times to the architects of bridges. The Devil, or (in more ancient guise) the elemental spirit of the land, who detests any interference with the solitude he loves, has an especial antipathy to bridges. His repeated and successful attempts to interfere with such a structure, until he is bought off with an offering like that of Iphigenia, are recorded in legends which attach to numerous bridges in Europe. It is on such supernatural opposition that the English form of the game appears to turn. The structure, which is erected in the daytime, is ruined at night; every form of material--wood, stone, and gold--is tried in vain; the vigilance of the watchman, or of the cock and the dog--guardian animals of the darkness--is insufficient to protect the edifice from the attack of the offended spirits.

The child arrested seems to be originally regarded as the price paid for allowing the structure to stand. In times when all men's thoughts were concerned about the final judgment, a different turn was given to the sport--namely, whether the prisoner should belong to the devils or to the angels, who wage perpetual warfare, and dispute with each other the possession of departed souls. Finally, in quite recent days, religious allusions were excluded, and the captive, now accused of mere theft, was sentenced to be locked up, not in the Inferno, but in a commonplace jail.

No. 151.

_Open the Gates._

This game is a variation of the last, and is played similarly, ending with a "tug of war," as described on page 204.

Open the gates as high as the sky,
And let the King of Spain pass by;
Choose one,
Choose two,
Choose a pretty little girl like you.

More usual is a shorter rhyme, thus:

Open the gates as high as the sky,
And let King George and his troops[132] pass by.

No. 152.

_Weighing._

Two children, linking hands, form a "basket" (each grasping with the left hand the right wrist of the other, and with the right hand his left wrist), in which another child is lifted, who embraces with his arms the necks of his bearers. He is then swung to and fro, and finally made to strike the wall. If he lets go his hold, he is called "Rotten egg," which is regarded as a highly ignominious name.

This title is also applied to the child who lets go in the "tug of war" in "London Bridge." A similar lifting in a basket (as we have been told by one who remembered so playing in youth) formed, in Philadelphia, part of the same game.

The original meaning of this exercise is made clear by an Italian counterpart, in which it is called "Weighing." The child after being lifted is made to jump over one of the lowered arms of his bearers, and if he escapes from their grasp is destined for _Paradise_, otherwise for the _Inferno_. The French usage is the same.[133] Weighing, to decide whether the child should be angel or devil, sometimes forms part, also, of the German game corresponding to "London Bridge."

Another English game shows us a relic of this practice--namely, that called "Honey-pots," from which, as usual in children's sports, the original religious idea has disappeared. A child is lifted and swung until the hold is relaxed, when the _pot_ is said to weigh so many pounds.[134]

Other tests used in German games to decide whether a child shall be an angel or not, are--tickling, in which a sober face must be kept; jumping over a cord, or measuring the height. These customs of play are surviving forms of usages once equally common in English sports.

No. 153.

_Colors._

A.--A row of children, on the doorsteps of a house, or against a chamber wall. Opposite each other stand two girls, representing, one the good, the other the bad, angel. Every child selects a color. The mother stands at the foot of the steps. The "Good Angel" knocks at the door (_i.e._, the side of the flight of house-steps), and is answered by the mother:

"Who's knocking at the door?"
"The Angel with the Golden Star."
"What do you want?"
"Blue" (or any color).

The "Good Angel" names a color. If this color is represented among the children, the angel takes the child, but if the application is unsuccessful, must retire, whereon the "Bad Angel," or the "Angel with the Pitchfork," comes forward in like manner. When all the children are divided, a "tug of war" ensues, as in "London Bridge."

This form of the game is probably a recent translation from the German, by New York children.[135]

B.--In the convent-school of Savannah, Ga., as we learn from a former pupil, birds instead of colors represented the children, and the formula was, "Barn, barn,[136] who comes here?" It was replied, "Good angel," or "Bad angel." The angels then "fought and tried to get the child."

C.--In Philadelphia there is a game in which the children, having received birds' names, are pursued by the mother, and, if captured, are put into the slop-bowl; otherwise, into the sugar-bowl.

Similarly, in a Swiss game, we have the mother and a bird-catcher. The latter endeavors to guess the titles of the children, who are called after birds or colors. When the name of a child is guessed, she takes flight, and if she can escape, returns to the mother; if caught, she belongs to the pursuer, and the game ends with a "tug of war."

Corresponding is the French game of "Animals." The devil and a purchaser are first chosen. The seller names the animals, and shuts them up in an enclosure. The devil, who has not heard the naming, comes up[137] and guesses the title of the beast. If he guesses right, the seller says "Go!" while the animal makes a circuit to return to his den. The devil must first buy (with so many taps on the palm of the hand of the dealer) the beast, before he can pursue. If he catches the latter, he marks him with three blows on the head and tail, and the animal becomes the devil's dog. The game finishes when all the animals have been so captured.

The conflict which ends this game is curious. In Switzerland, the angel who obtains a child carries it in his arms within his limit, and the devil similarly. After all the children are divided, a struggle begins, the devils defending themselves with claws, the angels with wings. In Austria the boundary between Heaven and Hell is marked out by a piece of wood, called "Fire." Each child grasps the waist of his predecessor with both arms, the leaders join hands over the "Fire," and the contest lasts until all are pulled to one side or the other.

These battles between opposing supernatural forces rest on a basis older than Christianity. The "Game of the Shell" is thus described by Pollux: "The shell-game; where the boys draw a line on the ground and choose sides, one side selecting the outside of a shell, the other the inside. One who stands on the line having thrown up the shell, whichever face comes uppermost, those who belong to that give chase, and the other party turn and fly. Any fugitive who gets caught is called the _ass_. He who pitches the shell says, 'Night, day;' for the outside is smeared with pitch, and signifies night; whence this boys' game is also called the 'turning of the shell.'"

The word _ass_ here means that the boy caught had to carry home his pursuer on his back.

Plato alludes to this game in the "Republic," saying of the efforts of the soul to pass from the realm of darkness to that of light, "it does not depend on the turn of a shell."

We thus see the successive mental conceptions of antiquity, the Middle Ages, and modern time reflected in the changes of children's sports.

No. 154.

_Old Witch._

A.--Ten girls, a mother, a witch, and eight children--namely, Sunday, Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday, Thursday, Friday, Saturday, and the eldest daughter Sue. The mother, preparing to go out, addresses her children:

Now all you children stay at home,
And be good girls while I am gone;
Let no one in[138]
* * * * *
Especially you, my daughter Sue,
Or else I'll beat you black and blue.[139]

The witch knocks at the door, and is refused entrance by the children. She beguiles them by promises to admit her, which they finally do. She then holds out her pipe (a bit of stick), which she carries between her teeth, saying to Sue, "Light my pipe!" Sue refusing, she makes the same demand to each child, in the order of the days of the week, in which they are ranged. All refuse till she reaches the last, who consents and touches her pipe, whereupon the witch seizes her hand, and drags her out of the house to her "den."

The mother then returns, counts the children, and Sue is questioned and punished. This is played over until each child is taken, Sue last.

When the mother has lost all her children, the witch calls, and invites her to dinner. Upon going to the witch's door, she finds a table set for the meal, and the witch asks her to order a dish to suit her taste. She does so, whereupon the witch produces Sunday, and lays her upon the table, with considerable assistance from Sunday.

A very amusing dialogue now ensues between the witch and the mother. The former urges the mother to eat, with many blandishments, and the mother (recognizing her child) declines, with such excuses as any ingenious child can devise.

The mother, upon pretence of inability to eat the food, calls for another dish, and, when the witch leaves the room, hurries the child from the table and places her behind the chair. When the witch returns, she says that she found the dish so good that she ate it all, and calls for another.

Each child is produced in turn, with the same result. When all are arranged behind their mother, she calls for another dish, and when the witch leaves the room to get it, runs home with all her children.

_Hartford, Conn._

* * * * *

Our second version (B) is from the lips of a little girl in New York city. The persons represented are the same, except that a servant instead of one of the daughters is left to take care of the children. Scene, the doorsteps, or "stoop," of a New York dwelling-house.

_Mother_ [_sings_]. Chickany, chickany, crany, crow.
Went to the well to wash her great toe,
And when she came back her chicken was dead.[140]

[_To Servant_]. I am going out, and let nobody come in.

[_Exit. Enter presently, Witch._

_Witch_ [_to Servant_]. Give me a match to light my pipe.

_Servant._ I haven't any.

_Witch._ Your kettle's boiling over.

_Servant._ No.

_Witch._ Your kettle is boiling over.

_Servant_ [_goes to look_]. _Witch seizes a child and carries her
off._ [_Re-enter Mother._

_Mother_ [_to servant_]. Where's my Monday?

_Servant._ Under the table.

_Mother_ [_calls_]. Monday!

_Servant._ Up in the band-box![141]

_Mother._ How to get up?

_Servant._ Put two broken chairs on a broken table.

_Mother._ Suppose I should fall and break my neck?

_Servant._ Good enough for you.

Mother beats servant, but recovering from her loss, goes out again. Witch enters as before, and carries off successively all the children, and at last the servant. Witch then puts the children in a row, cooks them, and makes them into pies, naming them apple-pie, peach-pie, etc. Mother goes out to buy pies.

_Mother_ [_to Witch_]. Have you any pies?

_Witch_. Yes, some very nice apple-pies, which you will like.

_Mother_ [_tastes_]. This tastes like my Monday. [_Re-animates
Monday_.] Monday, who brought you here? [_Beats her, and sends
her home._]

The mother proceeds in the same manner, and brings to life the other children.

C.--The name of the witch in this variation is "Old Mother Cripsy-crops," and the game begins by playing No. 89. When the mother goes out, the children call after her, "Old mother, the kettle boils." She answers, "Take a spoon and stir it." "We haven't got any." "Buy one." "We have no money." "Borrow," says the mother. "People won't lend," reply the children.

The witch comes in, and entices Sunday away by fine promises. When the mother comes back, she inquires, "Where's my Sunday?" The children make some excuse, as, "Perhaps he has gone down cellar," etc. She tells Tuesday to take care of Monday, as she had previously placed Monday in charge of Sunday, and goes out again, when the same scene is repeated, until all the children have been carried off.

The mother now calls at the witch's house, and asks to be let in. The witch refuses, saying, "No, your shoes are too dirty." "But I will take off my shoes." "Your stockings are too dirty." "Then I will take off my stockings." "Your feet are too dirty." "I will cut off my feet." "That would make the carpet all bloody." "But I must see my children, and you have got them." "What should I know about your children? But if you like you may call to-morrow at twelve."

The mother departs, and as soon as she is gone the witch goes to the children and renames them all. One she calls Mustard, another Pepper, another Salt, another Vinegar, etc. Then she turns their faces to the wall, and tells them to give these names if they are asked who they are. The mother calls again at the house of the witch, and this time is admitted. She asks the children what their names are, and they all answer as they were instructed by the witch. She then asks the first child to let her feel his toe. He puts up his foot, and when the mother feels it she says, "This is my Sunday! let your big toe carry you home;" whereupon he runs off. The same process is gone through with all the other children.

D.--To the mother (this time present), in the midst of her children, approaches the witch, who comes limping, leaning on a cane. The dialogue is between mother and witch.

"There's old mother Hippletyhop; I wonder what she wants to-day?"
"I want one of your children."
"Which one do you want?"

The witch names any child of the row.

"What will you give her to eat?"
"Plum-cake" (a different delicacy for each child).

The witch carries off the child, and observes: "Walk as I do, or else I'll kill you." She takes the child home and kills her, then returns for another. When all are gone the mother goes out to look for her children. She goes to the witch's house, and finds all the children (presumed to be dead) against the wall, making the most horrible faces. She points to a child, and asks, "What did [Mary] die of?" "She died of sucking her thumbs" (naming the child's gesture). Suddenly all the children come to themselves, and cry out, "Oh, mother, we are not dead!"

_Portsmouth, N. H._

E.--In a fifth version, which we have failed to obtain in full, the witch changed the children into birds; and the mother, in order to recover them, must guess the name of the bird. Colors, instead of birds, were also used to represent the children.

F.--We have already spoken of the old English game of "Honey-pots" as an imitation of "Weighing." This trait, however, as might be supposed from its insignificant character, is a mere fragment of the original. In London (as we learn from an informant of the laboring class, who remembers taking part in the amusement), a child as market-woman arranges the rest in a row to indicate honey-pots, each with its specific flavor. While she is busy at one end of the row, a thief comes in and steals a pot from the other end. This process is repeated, until all the pots are taken. The dealer then goes out to buy honey-pots, and recognizes her own by the flavor, so recovering the stolen goods.

* * * * *

This game without doubt is the most curious of our collection, both on account of its own quaintness, and because of the extraordinary relation in which it stands to the child's lore of Europe. We have, in a note, endeavored to show that our American versions give the most ancient and adequate representation now existing of a childish drama which has diverged into numerous branches, and of which almost every trait has set up for itself as an independent game. Several of these offshoots are centuries old, and exist in many European tongues; while, so far as appears, their original has best maintained itself in the childish tradition of the New World.

Among a great number of German forms, only one (from Suabia) nearly corresponds to ours, with the exception of a corrupted ending.

In this childish drama a mother has many children, who sleep. In her absence comes "Old Urschel" with her two daughters, the "Night-maidens" (a sort of fairies), who steal three children, and carry them off to their cave (hiding them behind their extended dresses). The mother visits Urschel's abode to complain of the theft, but the "Night-maidens," with deprecating gestures, deny any knowledge of the lost. The action is then repeated, the eldest daughter (who plays the same part as in our first version) being taken last.

When the mother's complaints are useless, she becomes a witch. The next day Urschel takes her stolen family for a walk. The mother comes up and pulls the dress of a child; by her magic art all feel it at the same time, and cry to Urschel, "Oh, mother, somebody is pulling my gown!" The latter replies, "It must be a dog." The mother then asks and obtains leave to join the party, but endeavors to bewitch (or disenchant) her children, who cry, "The Witch of London!" and scatter, but are captured by the latter and turned into witches.[142]