Chapter X: Part 10

From the ideas of old folks respecting this distemper, one may conjecture that its Cornish name meant some kind of spirit which had, for the time, taken a material form. Forty years or more ago, an old farmer of Sancreed, who had been a noted hurler when in his prime, told me that in his younger days, when hurling matches came off between Sancras and some neighbouring parish almost every Sunday afternoon, he seldom missed a game, and if the silver ball came into his hands it seldom left them until he brought it to Sancras churchtown. When hard pressed, as they always were on arriving near the “gold” (goal) the cry of “Gare teag” (fair play) “for Sancras boys” would be heard for a mile or more from churchtown, and put them in heart for their last run; while St. Just men would be calling “One and ale (all) for Santusters,” as they came down round the Bickan to cut off their opponents, if they could, as their last hope. But that they could seldom do. Then, after resting awhile, with his comrades, he steered his course for Sellan, where he lived with an uncle, or grandfather, one old Uter Bossence. “I can’t say how long we stayed in the comfortable old public house, I’m sure,” said the hurler, “for we were all so happy together and loath to part; those from a distance just stepped in, had a drink, and away; at such times, too, the usually quiet old inn would wake up an be all alive for a bit. Then the ‘tenders’ (waiters) on coming into the rooms with pewter flagons of foaming ale would sing out, ‘The bird in hand, my dears; we can’t stay to use the chalk!’ A fluttering bird with his legs grasped by a hand, was painted on the old signboard, and under this picture the couplet:—

‘A bird in hand is better fare
Than two that in the bushes are.’”

The old man went on to say how every now and then, he got piskey-led on his way home to Sellan. As sure as he missed the church-road he would be led miles about, round and round the same field, ere he could find it again. If he left the field he seldom knew where he was again before the break o’ day, and then was most likely to find himself near Brane Rings (Caer Brane) instead of on the other side of churchtown. Near the Rings piskey would leave him, laughing like nothing else but a piskey!

When once inside the Castle enclosure, he lay down and slept soundly till sunrise or after. For everybody knew that anywhere within the Rings on Brane hill, the same as at Bartinney, nothing evil that wanders the earth by night could harm them. They meant spirits of the Bucka-boo (dhu) tribe. Small people (fairies) are friendly to man and beast, unless interfered with, and Brane Rings was one of their haunts.

If he wanted to get home early and tried to break through the fog, which always surrounds a piskey, he would oftener find himself in broad daylight, down by Chappel Uny than over in Sellan. Sometimes, however, when by bad luck the ball was carried off to another parish, he was ready, on returning homeward, to drop down and sleep in a pool of water. “At such times,” said he, “I tumbled into the first house I came by, no matter where ’twas, for in these times, a Bossence was home anywhere in Sancras or Santust either.” Just as soon as he lay down—whether in bed, among the hay, or elsewhere,—the Hilla would be on him and lay with such a dead weight that he could neither move hand nor foot, nor call for help if it were to save his life, which seemed to be almost squeezed out of him sometimes. When the Hilla left he came to himself and found all about him wet with sweat. “And I felt as sore,” said the old hurler in conclusion, “as if I’d ben thrashed with a thrashal on a barn-boards; then, when I cud, I stretched myself in the sunshine on the bare ground, for there’s nothing like the sun and earth for healing the bruises in one’s flesh and getting the pain out of one’s bones; and I’m sure as I’m speakan to thee, my son, that the Hilla was nothan else but the same cussed piskey, in another form; and older and wiser people say the same thing.”

Only a few weeks since an elderly native of St. Just told me he had often heard his father say that people who were subject to the Hilla, or feared it, were in the habit of taking to bed with them a couple of forks, one of which was placed on either side within reach of the hand. If the troubled person could stretch his or her arms, or only one arm, and touch a fork with one finger even, that instant the Hilla would decamp; for this sprite, like all other evil ones, feared cold iron so much that the Hilla-ridden never had the chance to stab the thing.

The elder St. Just man did not know for certain about the Hilla’s form, as it was never seen; yet, from the feeling on the breast, or whatever it was, people said it was a great hairy thing which lay on them with a dead weight that almost stopped their breathing.

The “Stag” is a lighter creature of the same class. People whose rest has only been slightly troubled say they only had the “Stag” and not the “Hilla,” by good luck.

THE ANCIENT CORNISH LANGUAGE IN THE COLONIES.

Cornishmen’s clannish propensities are well known and are most apparent when they meet in foreign lands. At the gold-fields of Australia, as elsewhere, they stand by and support each other “through thick and thin.” Cornishmen are also preferred for many kinds of work which require some degree of engineering skill, and they seldom undertake any employment for which they are incompetent. Consequently, many persons from other shires who have never been west of the Tamar try to pass themselves off as Cornishmen, and sometimes succeed in being received into the fellowship of “One and All.” If, however, the stranger be suspected of “sailing under false colours,” when they are all in familiar chat about nothing in particular, “Cousin Jackey” will take occasion to say to the new chum “My dear; ded ’e ever see a duck klunk a gay?” If the stranger be up to the intent of the question he will probably reply, “Learn thy granny to lap ashes,” which is the West Country equivalent for teaching the same venerable dame to suck eggs; but, if ignorant of what the question means, he is given to understand that they regard him as an interloper and will be no more deceived by him than a duck can be made to klunk (swallow) a gay (fragment of broken crockery.)

The proverbial saying of “nobody ever saw a duck klunk a gay”—meaning that no one will be deceived beyond a certain point—may be puzzling to some Cornish readers as well as to strangers; those, however, who are country-born and bred remember that when children they often left the table with their meals unfinished and ran out with their morsels in their hands and their “gays” in their pockets, eager to join their playmates in the town-place; and how the village ducks—knowing the childrens’ custom—gathered around them to pick up the crumbs, or to snatch the food from the childrens’ hands, and the urchins often tossed them a “gay,” which the greedy fowl gobble up and drop, one after the other, but never swallow. It is a comical sight to see how the ducks, on having discovered the cheat, look askaunt at the “didjan” of broken clome, shaking their tails and quacking in anger or scorn the while.

The Gileadites’ Shibboleth served much the same purpose in the times of the Judges of Israel as the old proverb does to-day among Cornishmen abroad. (Judges xii chap., 5 and 6 verses.)

The usual test above-mentioned fails sometimes, chiefly from young Cornishmen making comrades of strangers, as they are apt to do for short spells, in which case they have other tests for the next opportunity, but all turn on the same idea—that of using words only understood by themselves. One more will serve as an example.

A Cornishman will come behind the stranger who wishes to pass for a genuine Cornubian and say, quite natural-like, “Mate! there’s a green myryan on thy nudack.” The venomous bite or sting of a green myryan (ant) being much dreaded, a Cornishman would either put his hand to the nape of his neck, to brush it off, or show in some way that he understood the meaning—looking “as dazed as a duck against (on hearing) thunder” the while.

ACCORDING HOW ET MAY DROP.

Shortly after Jackey came a-courting, one Sunday afternoon, his sweetheart placed on the board all she required for making a heavy cake. Last thing, before mixing flour and cream, she took a hearty pinch of snuff and wiped her fingers on her “touser.” Whilst making the cake, she said to Jackey, “thee hast been courtan me now for years, off and on, and always promised thee west marry me soon; now west a marry me before Christmas?” Whilst the woman was talking and working up the cake, Jackey noticed a snuffy drop quivering on the tip of her nose. “Can’t tell thee yet,” Jackey replied, “es accordan how a may drop.” An instant after he stamped away to the door, and turning round, called out, “No! I’ll neither marry thee before Christmas nor after, nor eat any more cakes of thy makean.” How it dropped was made plain enough by Jackey’s behaviour.

CORNISH WORDS IN USE.

“SA! SA!”

The exclamation “Sa!” which is frequently heard in the country, and sometimes in town, is probably the old Cornish word sa, “stand!” It has continued in use, though its meaning has been forgotten. It is employed instead of “stand still!” “hold!” “avast!” “enough!” and such-like words, uttered in haste to arrest speech or action. Its usage, however, will be best shown by a few familiar examples.

In all parts of the country hereabouts, it is spoken to a restless cow to bid her be still whilst milked,—“Sa! Molly! sa!” Very likely most words used to cattle and poultry are ancient Cornish, and had meanings, now lost. “Sa, sa! eat petats, let the crust for supper!” is a saying often addressed to persons who want to enjoy all their good things at once. It is suggested by the well-known potato-pie with its substantial roll of crust and the custom of reserving a good portion of the latter, to serve, instead of cake for supper.

A short time ago, a butcher belonging to a western town had a horse of an uncertain age and no remarkable qualities; yet the owner was always “cracking it up” as the best beast in town, of its size—equally good for saddle and harness; sure-footed, staunch to collar, and so on. He also gave his fellow tradesmen to understand that anyone who coveted this choice animal must pay a good sum to tempt him to part with it. For a few days, butchers in surrounding stalls, to their surprise, heard no mention of the famous horse; then they learnt that it had changed owners, and for a lower price than it was expected the seller would have accepted. Butchers in general are much given to banter, and those of the town in question, liking this pastime very much, renewed their jibes by telling the seller of Dobbin that if he had at first only asked a fair price for his horse he would have got much more for it. One of them remarked that what he had stated in favour of the beast was as near the truth as could be expected from a jockey, and nearer than the owner knew of. Another, who was two or three stalls off, bellowed, “Aye by golls! [29] He nearly told the truth, for a wonder, but all through’s ign’rance.” In short, they tried to persuade the seller that he had made a bad bargain, though they knew the horse had fetched its full value, or more. The jockey-butcher sat listening to the others’ jeers with good humour, or returning them in the same vein, till, becoming tired of their long harping on the same string he sprang up, and shouted, “Sa! sa! lev’n go, es dry eatan” (let him go, he is dry eating), “as the old man said for the hare.”

The (native?) fable, or story from which our jolly butcher took his apt reply, runs thus:—

An old couple lived all alone in a little old house “out by night” (an out-of-the-way place). The old woman was constantly in a bad temper, because a hare got into their garden and ate the cabbages; she scolded and tormented her old man all day long because he didn’t build the garden hedges higher, or do something else to keep the hare out. To all her aggravating “jaw,” he would only reply, “Sa, sa, dear, when that hare es fat enow we’ll have a good pie.” One Saturday night, accordingly, he set a jin among the cabbages. On Sunday morning he got up by break o’ day, and ran out to see if the hare were “come to trap.” There it was, a fine one, caught by a fore leg. The old man, overjoyed by his good luck, without stopping to take up the hare, ran in, calling to his wife all the way, “come ’e along out, my dear; be quick; and see what a capital pie we shall have for dinner to-day.” She tore out in great “stroath” (confused haste), slipped on her clogs, crossed the garden, and got to the trap before her old man; but all she saw of the hare was a fore foot in the jin, and the white of its tail passing through a hole in the hedge, as it scampered off. The hare, on hearing the old woman’s clogs coming clap-a-clap among the cabbages, gave a twist, severed a bit of skin, which alone held it; the trap in closing had broken the bone. “That’s like thee, thee old buffle-head,” screamed she, “not to take up the hare at once and bring am in, instead of hobblan away to bring me out, draglan through the dew to catch my death this cold mornan, all undressed as I am; and that while, the hare, twistan and turnan, broke’s leg and es gone.”

“Sa! sa!” said the old man, “lev’n go, es dry eatan.”

CORNISH OBSERVANCES WITH REGARD TO THE SUN AND MOON.

Only a few years ago elderly farmers of the Land’s End district commenced the breaking of grass land with a sort of religious solemnity, to bring it into its three years’ course of tillage. On entering the field, the cattle, attached to the plough, were turned towards the west; and the ploughman saying, “In the name of God let’s begin,” proceeded with the course of the sun to “break ground” by turning a few yards of sod in that direction; afterwards the field might be ploughed towards any point that was convenient.

The same rite was observed by some on beginning to plough an arable field; and when they commenced to sow a few handfuls of grain were cast round—with the same formality—from east to west, for luck. Following the sun’s course in several other kinds of work was also regarded as a means of ensuring success.

Dairy-women always place their pans of milk so that they shall be skimmed, in turn, going with the sun, or from left to right. The scalded or clouted cream, for making butter, being placed in a shallow tub, is stirred round with the hand, or a wooden peel, in the direction of the sun’s course; if turned in a reverse manner, butter cannot be properly made—so it is believed. Young people dance round the Midsummer’s bonfire in the same order; if any of them take the wrong course it is believed, or at least said, they will die unmarried. When the bonfire has burned sufficiently low, old and young leap through the flames towards the place of the setting sun.

In the spring, people visit a “Pellar” (conjuror) as soon as there is “twelve hours’ sun,” to have “their protection renewed,” that is, to be provided with charms; and the wise man’s good offices to ward off, for the ensuing year, all evil influences of beings who work in darkness. The reason assigned for observing this particular time is, that “when the sun is come back the Pellar has more power to goodé” (do good).

In curing diseases, charms are worked against the sun to backen the complaint. Ricketty children bathed in a holy well on the three Wednesdays in May, are dipped thrice and taken round the spring as often against the sun’s course. For the cure of boils or eruptions, the afflicted crawl nine times from east to west, under a bramble, rooted at both ends. Many other examples might be given of practices regarding the sun, but are much to the same effect.

One may notice a remarkable belief, however, that if a person, by false swearing, compasses the life of another, the sun is thereafter invisible to the perjured one. This idea is so well known that to hint at a person’s inability to behold the sun is regarded as a great insult.

An observance with regard to the moon may be here mentioned. Most folks are acquainted with a practice called “washing in a dry dish,” for the cure of warts and other ailments. To get rid of warts on the hands they are shown the moon nine times on three successive nights before full moon; three times on the full, at intervals of three quarters of an hour; and thrice afterwards, on three following nights. On each occasion the patient, or rather the supplicant, looks from the moon to his hands, and from his hands to the moon—whilst rubbing them together as if washing them—and holds them towards the moon nine times, saying:—

“I wash my hands in this thy dish,
O, Man in the Moon, do grant my wish,
And come take away this.”

For the cure of various other ailments this charm is worked in much the same way. The above-mentioned remnants of Zabaism are suggestive of Phœnician tin-traders’ connection with old Bellerion.

There are many ancient beliefs and practices with respect to the moon still lingering in West Cornwall, which seem to be almost forgotten elsewhere. The following are a few examples amongst many.

Herbs for drying, to be used in fomentation, or for other medicinal purposes, are gathered at the full of the moon; when winter’s fruit should also be picked and stored, in order that it may retain its plumpness. Elderly persons prefer to sow their garden seeds and others during the moon’s first quarter, from the idea that they will then germinate quicker and grow stronger than on the decrease.

Timber should be felled on the “bating” of the moon, because the “sap is then down,” and the wood will be more durable.

When the old iron “chills” (lamps) were in general use, rushes for making “porvans” (wicks) were cut at the full moon, because it was believed that they were then fuller of pith and less liable to shrink than if cut at other times.

Old gentlemen who wore their hair long behind, or in “pigtails or queues,” and other persons as well, of that day, were very particular about having their heads trimmed at the time of full moon, that their hair might grow the more luxuriantly.

The first money taken of a market-day is still frequently spit on for good luck; and if silver, kept for luck-money, to be shown to the next new moon, and turned three times towards the person who shows it. Three wishes were made whilst showing the money, which the wisher turned three times from the moon towards himself.

It is considered unlucky to get the first sight of a new moon through glass, and many persons go out of doors purposely to see her for the first time, when they hold towards her a piece of silver to ensure their success whilst that moon lasts. Those who offer this kind of adoration to Luna are mostly provided with a crooked sixpence, which they call a pocket-piece, and wear as a means to retain good luck. This observance of showing money to the new moon is, probably, a vestige of an ancient rite connected with the worship of Luna or Astarte.

Another belief, which still holds good, is that when a child is born in the interval between an old moon and the first appearance of a new one, it will never live to attain to puberty. A recent observation confirms this as well to animals as children. Hence the saying of “no moon no man.” Other popular notions, among old folks, are that when a boy is born on the waning moon the next birth will be a girl, and vice versâ; they also say that when a birth takes place on the “growing of the moon,” the next child will be of the same sex. Many of these fancies, however, may be astrological notions, handed down from ancient times and common to many places. Here much of such lore has been learnt from Sibley’s “Treatise on the Occult Sciences,” which is the oracle of our western astrologers; though they seldom let their study of that and similar works be known for fear of the ridicule with which it is now the fashion to regard such pursuits.

CORNISH CONJURORS’ CHARMS AGAINST WITCHCRAFT.

The following are some of the spells supplied by West Country “Pellars” to those who seek their protection, as stated in a notice of “Cornish Observances with regard to the Sun.”

A strip of parchment, inscribed with the words SATOR AREPO TENET OPERA ROTAS, is regarded as a protection from many evils when worn as an amulet; all the more so because these magical words read the same backwards as forwards. These words also form a magical square, and can be read up or down, backwards or forwards, or any way—thus

S A T O R
A R E P O
T E N E T
O P E R A
R O T A S

At the time of an old lady’s decease, a little while ago, on her breast was found a small silk bag containing various charms; among others, a piece of parchment, about three inches square, having written on one side of it NALGAH. Under this is a pen-and-ink drawing of a figure somewhat like a bird, with two pairs of wings, a pair extended and the others folded beneath them. The creature appears to be hovering, and at the same time brooding on a large egg, sustained by one of its legs; whilst it holds a smaller egg at the extremity of its other leg, which is outstretched and long. Its head, round and small, is unlike that of a bird; from the rudeness of the sketch, and its faded state, it is difficult to trace all the outlines. Under this singular figure is the word TETRAGRAMMATON. On the reverse, in large letters,

JEHOVAH
JAH, ELOHIM,
SHADDAY,
ADONAY,
HAVE MERCY ON A POOR WOMAN.

A Pellar of great repute in this neighbourhood tells me, however, that this precious document is inscribed with two distinct charms—that the Nalgah is the figure only.

The ABRACADABRA is supplied by our “white-witches” for the cure or prevention of some diseases; the letters, arranged in the usual way, are enclosed in two intersecting triangles.

Another potent spell is a rude draft of the planetary signs for the Sun, Jupiter, and Venus, followed by a cross, pentagram, and a figure formed by a perpendicular line, and a divergent one on each side of it, united at the bottom. Under them is written, “Whosoever beareth these tokens will be fortunate and need fear no evil.”

The charms are folded in a paper on which is usually written, “By the help of the Lord these will do thee good,” and enclosed in a little bag to be worn on the breast. Bed-ridden folks have them placed in their pillows, and the conjurors visit such infirm ones yearly to “renew their protection.”

Western Pellars are ignorant of the meaning of the above formulas, but regard them as powerful words and signs that have been handed down from wise men of ancient times who followed a like profession.

There is one practitioner in the vicinity of Penzance who is well versed in Astrology, from having made this science the study of a long life.

Besides the above-mentioned counter spells to sorcery and other mysterious evils, persons are furnished with witch powders, to be cast over such children or cattle as may be ill-wished, begrudged, or “over-looked;” with regard to the latter, holding two forked (spread) fingers towards a person that has evil eyes, is believed to be a safeguard from their blasting influence.

A short time ago one might obtain blood-stones, milpreves, or snake-stones, but these are become rare; the blue stone or glass rings, in which were seen the figure of an adder, or the pattern of a snake, were much prized, because it was believed that those who wore them were by that means safe from being harmed by any of the serpent tribe, and that man or beast having been stung, if given water to drink wherein this stone had been infused, would soon recover from the poison.

Cornish folks have such confidence in their conjurors’ mysterious science, that many go a great distance to consult them, and the mere threat of “going to the Pellar” is often sufficient to procure the restitution of stolen goods, or compensation for injury; and, after all, their remedies may be as beneficial as those usually prescribed for imaginary ailments.

Most Cornish folks are familiar with the following lines, or others of the same import:—

Born on a Sunday a gentleman.
Monday’s child is fair in 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 loving and giving.
Saturday’s child works hard for its living.

Another version says—

Wednesday’s child is full of woe.
Thursday’s child has far to go.

The assumed principles of astrology furnish a key to the above; as the subject is supposed to be influenced according to the nature of the planet or divinity after whom the day is named, and which is regarded in medical astrology, as lord of the first house for the respective day.

ALL ON ONE SIDE, LIKE SMOOTHY’S WEDDING.

Some eighty or ninety years ago a male member of a well-known family was about to be married. He was a soft-spoken individual, and, in the days when nearly every one had a nickname, he was called and known generally as “Smoothy.” When the wedding-day came it was found that all the invited guests were his relatives and friends—not one the bride’s. Hence the saying.

“All on one side, like Smoothy’s wedding,” is often applied to cases of biassed judgment, or an unfair award from a prejudiced view of the subject.

“Smoothy” is a nickname commonly given to a double-faced, fair-spoken hypocrite,—one who runs with the hare and holds with the hounds.

PISKIES, SPRIGGANS, SMALL PEOPLE, AND KNOCKERS.

According to the Fairy belief of the old Cornish folk, the Piskey has seldom been seen in any other shape than that of a weird, wizzened-looking, little old man. As such he has often been spied of moonlight winter’s nights threshing the corn in the barns of lonely places. Boslow and Lejarn are often spoken of as being favourite haunts of the goblin. Another of his well-known pranks is to mount on the necks of the colts, where he plaits his Piskey stirrups in the winter, and rides the colts after the cows like mad in the summer. Leading the folks into the bogs, by appearing like a person with a lantern or light from a window, were of constant occurrence unless the night wanderer took the precaution to turn some garment inside out, to break the spell.

The Spriggans, quite a different class of beings, are the dourest and most ugly set of sprights belonging to the elfin tribe; they are only seen about old ruins, barrows, giant’s quoits and castles, or other places where treasure is buried, of which they have the charge. They also steal children, leaving their own ugly brats in their place, bring bad weather to blight the crops, whirlwinds over the fields of cut corn, and do much other mischief to those who meddle with their favourite haunts.

The innocent Small-people, on the contrary, are always described as being extremely beautiful by all who have had the luck to see them, holding their merry fairs and sprightly dances on the velvety turf of the greens, sheltered glades between the cairns, or in other secluded pleasant places, dressed in their bright green nether garments, sky-blue jackets, three-cornered hats on the men and pointed ones on the ladies, all decked with lace and silver bells. They are as lovely as the flowers of the fields. These good small folks often showed great kindness to those people to whom they took a fancy, and have frequently been known to come into poor cottages, divert good old bed-ridden folks with their merry pranks and gambols, and fill the air with the delicious odours of flowers, and such sweet melody as few but angels ever hear and live.

The Bockles, or Knockers, can scarcely be classed as fairies; they seem rather to be a hybrid race between ordinary ghosts and elves, as the miners believe them to be the restless souls of the Jews who formerly worked in the tin-mines of Cornwall. The tinners often hear them working when underground; sometimes, these ghostly workers may be heard even from the surface; yet they so rarely make their appearance now that we hardly know what they are like.

There are a few other mythical beings belonging to our elvin creed, but they have been so seldom seen of latter days, that very little is now known of the Buccas, Browneys, Mermaids, &c. Probably the mermaids so much dislike steam ships that the fair syrens have taken themselves off, with all their combs and glasses, to the China seas, so as to be out of the way of the fiery monsters of the deep.

OLD CORNISH WORDS.

Strangers are often puzzled to know what we Cornish people mean by some of our words. Let us take some old Cornish words still in common use, as skaw for the elder-tree; skaw-dower, water-elder; bannel, broom; skedgewith, privet; griglans, heath; padzy-paw (from padzar, four), the small grey lizard; muryan, the ant; quilkan, the frog (which retains its English name when in the water); pul-cronack (literally pool-toad) is the name given to a small fish with a head much like that of a toad, which is often found in the pools (pulans) left by the receding tide among the rocks along shore; visnan, the sand-lance; bul-horn, the shell-snail; dumble-dory, the black-beetle (but this may be a corruption of the dor-beetle). A small, solid wheel has still the old name of drucshar. Finely pulverized soil is called grute. The roots and other light matter harrowed up on the surface of the ground for burning we call tabs. Guldaize, harvest feast. Plum means soft; quail, withered; crum, crooked; bruyans, crumbs; with a few other terms more rarely used.

Many of our ordinary expressions (often mistaken for vulgar provincialisms) are French words slightly modified, which were probably introduced into the west by the old Norman families who long resided there. For instance; a large apron to come quite round, worn for the sake of keeping the under clothing clean, is called a touser (tout serre); a game of running romps, is a courant (from courir). Very rough play is a regular cow’s courant. Going into a neighbour’s for a spell of friendly chat is going to cursey (couser) a bit. The loins are called the cheens (old French, echine.) The plant sweet-leaf, a kind of St. John’s wort, here called tutsen, is the French toute saine (heal all). There are some others which, however, are not peculiar to the west, as kick-shaws (quelque chose), &c. We have also many inverted words, as swap for wasp, cruds for curds, &c. Then again we call a fly a flea; and a flea a flay; and the smallest stream of water a river.

Ishan is a genuine old Cornish word; it is only given to such dust as comes from winnowing, the result of which process is husks, chaff, &c.

Refuse, consisting of defective grains, seeds, &c., on the “tail” (leeward end) of a winnowing sheet, was, by old “winsters,” called attal.

Harvest-time reminds one of our free-hearted old farmers and their bountiful goolthise, at which all comers were welcome to eat, drink, and be merry. This name for an entertainment given on the principal corn-carrying day—generally the last—is preserved from our ancient language.

In Scilly a harvest feast is called Nicklethise.

In addition to the above we have the following terms connected with harvest work and the preparation of corn for mill or market. Dram, a swathe of cut corn; croust, the afternoon’s refreshment, generally of hot fuggans (cakes) and ale (Latin crusta).

Collebrands, defective and smutty ears, supposed to be blighted by the fine weather lightning, called by the same name.

Pederack and brummal, arish mows. The former is conical in shape, with the ear ends of all the sheaves turned inward and upwards; the latter, which is also called a culver-house mow, is in shape much like an old-fashioned, round, stone-built pigeon-house; having the part which answers to a culver-house roof finished with the sheaves turned, ear end, downwards and outwards. A brummal mow is the best for continued moist weather, because the ears on a mow-top are less liable to sprout when reversed. An ill-shaped, bulging pederack mow is said, in derision, to be “like an old culver-house,” by those who don’t know what the object of their comparison means.

Brummal is so much like a Gallic name for the sort of weather we call slaggy (full of misty rain), that they are, probably, offshoots from the same old root.

Colp, a short rope for carrying sheaves from a mow-hay to the barn; also a blow. Keveran, a strip of hide or leather which unites the two sticks of a “threshal” (flail) here called the “hand staff and slash-staff.” Liners, threshed wheaten sheaves. Kayer, a coarse sieve (probably a modern corruption of Cadar a-Chair, e.g., Cader Michel; St. Michael’s Chair on St. Michael’s Mount). Layer, a winnowing-sheet. To reeve, to separate with a fine sieve, small corn, seeds, &c., from the good grain.

Most West Country folk use many other words connected with husbandry which sound very unlike English, and are unknown in the eastern part of the county, as Colpas, anything which serves as a prop, or an underset, to a crowbar, or other object when used as a lever. Visgey (mutation for Pigol), a large pick, or mattock; tubble is another name for the same. Piggal, a beat-axe. Monger, a straw horse-collar, &c., &c.

GLOSSARY OF LOCAL WORDS.

Aree faa, exclamation: “dear me.”

Bal, a mine. Bannel, a broom, a yellow flowering shrub. Beety, to mend nets. Benen-vat, a good woman. Benkeyl, a living stream. Ben-ma-brea, woman of my heart. Balsh, small rope. Boobun, wick of the “chill.” Bowjowler, a place in the fishing-boat, to keep the foot-line. Breal, mackerel. Breedy, to make nets, by meshing with needle and pin-roller. Broaze, on the point of boiling. Broazen, briskly; the fire burns briskly. Bruz, small furze; remnants. Bucca-boo, a fool; a bogey. Bussa, a salting pot for meat. Bussa-head, a blockhead.

Caboolen, a stone used by seiners. Caboose, portable fishing-boat’s fire-place. Capis, very large meshes in a trammel-net. Cavers, the darnel. Chea, word used in calling swine to feed. Chea-chanter, hold your tongue. Chill, a lamp. Clibby, sticky, like molasses. Clomb, earthenware. Clunk, to swallow. Cobesta, a part of fishing tackle. Codgy or Clidgy, adhesive; gummy. Coits, a pile of rocks; group of stones. Costan, straw and bramble baskets. Cowal, fish basket, with a band for the head, carried by fishwomen. Cowl, fish-bladder. Cowleck, a glutton. Cravel, mantel-beam. Croggan, limpet-shell. Crowse, refreshment, carried to field in hay, corn, and potato harvests. Crum, crooked. Crush, shrunk with age.

Derns, a door-frame. Didgen, a bit; a small portion. Dien, a man. Dowse, to throw on the ground. Dowsing-rod, divining rod, used to discover minerals, water, &c. Drethen, a sand-pot, a sand-area ’neath the sea. Drizzle, small rain. Drizzling-dour, small stream.

Enys, an island.

Flucan-courses, a term in mining; cross-courses. Freathed out, frayed. Friday cum-sennet, next Friday week. Fuggan, a cake; dinner cake. Fun, a small kind of rush. Fusy, good.

Geek, a sly look; a peep. Ging, to fasten a fish hook to line with wire. Gord, a nine-feet rod to measure land. Griglens, remains of a heath broom. Guldize, harvest home. Gurry, a four-handled barrow with enclosed sides. Gwarrah, the farthest, the most distant. Gweean, perry-winkle.

Hayl, a river. Heevil, three-prong fork, a stable implement. Hilla, the nightmare. Hogan, miners’ dinner. Huel, a mine.

Ianken, walking quickly.

Jonic, fair, straightforward. Jsenequick, italian-iron. Jouder, fish overboiled. Jowdy, to walk in water with boots and stockings on.

Kanker, a small crab. Kay-yer, a coarse winnowing machine. Keals (quilles) nine-pins. Keal-alley, a bowling-green. Keddened and Cabageed, booted with mud; dirty. Keg, a dog. Kente-pathen-gy, wooden pins belonging to the stone anchor used in punts. Keygans, small refuse roots. Kibbal, a mine bucket. Kibbin, to steal. Kicker, fishing boats’ small mizen sail. Keggil, a piece of wood used by thread-spinners. Kiskey, a rotten stick. Kist-vaen, stone chest. Ku-lar, to lend.

Laggen, to splash in the water. Laister, yellow iris, or water flag. Lasking, keep near shore, a term used by fishermen. Lenth, shelter, cover from the weather. Ligge, broth; soup. Ludras, a frame for the (Killick).

Meanolas, a fire-place, a square box made of stones and clay, made by fishermen. Midge-go-morrah, hesitation, doubt, excuse. Miggle-cum-par, mixed fuel—a term used in swine feeding; confusion, a mixture. Minch, to play truant—shun school. Moppeneede, hide and go seek, a game. Mowaz, a maid. More, the root. Muryan, an ant, emmet.

Nacken, pocket handkerchief. Nuddick, back part of the neck.

Padger-paw, a lizard. Pag-ae, please. Peacher, a lure, an enticement. Pedna-a-mean, heads and tails, a game of pins. Pedn-borbas, cod’s head. Pigal, a farm implement. Piler, a farm implement, used to pound, or cut the beards from barley in winnowing. Pilles, naked oats (avena nuda). Planchen, wood floor. Podn, mine dust; tailings. Pol, a pool. Polyn, a stick. Punick, a small person; a dwarf. Purvans, shreds of cotton used in wick-making for a “chill.”

Quail, withered. Quilken, a young frog.

Raf, refuse, waste. Riggling, cleaning out the fire-place with the poker. Rût, to rub; friction.

Scabby-gullion, a stew. Scat, to knock; break to pieces. Schecojan, call; invitation. Scraggen, straggling. Scrof, the refuse. Scroggan, a worthless person. Scud, to spill any liquid. Scruff of the nuddick, nape of the neck. Shong, a broken mesh. Shethen, any thing long; a piece of hake used as bait. Skillet, small tin saucepan. Skubmaw, small parts; bits of wreck. Slag, small driving rain (drizzle). Slintrim, an incline; going down an incline. Slotter, a sticky wet mess. Stag’d, booted in mud. Stroath, wild haste. Strop, string; a piece of rope. Swap, a wasp. Sabs, to burn tabs,—grass tufts, raked together into piles for burning, in preparing ground for seed.

Tabs, turf, harrowed fine. Thurl, leary. Timmy-noggy, a notched square piece of wood, used to support the lower end of the Vargord. To garm, to shout in anger; scold. Tolyer-predu, baking-dish. Toust, toiled or rumpled. Towse, noise; tumult. Towser, coarse apron. Trantums, friskiness; wildness. Tre, a farm. Tubbal, double ball-pick. Tubban, a tuft of earth. Tummels, large quantity, applied in agriculture to crops of straw and hay. Tut, hassock.

Vargord, a spar, used as a foresail; bowline in fishing-boats. Vean, little; “child vean,” little child; kerris vean, little kerris; treveneth vean, &c. Vezy, without; distant; away. Vumfra, blow; a heavy slap.

Widden, white. Widdles, nonsense; foolishness; romancing. Whinz, mine-winch.

Zawn, a cavern. Zelli, a conger eel.

SUBSCRIBERS’ NAMES.

Allen, C. B., Kilburn, London. Allsop, Miss, Penzance, 3 copies. Anderson, T., Penzance. Andrews, William, F.R.H.S., Hull.

Barwis, J. C., Penzance. Batten, Joseph Childs, London. Bennett, E. G., Plymouth. Berryman, Alexander, Penzance. Blewett, J. P., Penzance. Boase, Francis, J.P., Penzance, 2 copies. Boase, Geo., Queen Anne’s Gate, Westminster. Boase, Rev. Charles W., Exeter College, Oxford. Bolitho, Mrs. W., Polwithen. Bolitho, William, Jun., J.P., Ponsandine, 3 copies. Borlase, John, Castle Horneck. Borlase, W. C., Larrigan. Borlase, Rev. William M., Zennor, 2 copies. Botheras, R. Gorton, Manchester. Brokenshire, E., Penzance. Brooks, William, Reigate, Surrey. Brune, Charles G. Prideaux, Prideaux Place, Padstow, 2 copies.

Carne, Henry, Penzance. Chevely, J. C., Madron. Chope, Rev. R. R., Wilton House, London. Colenso, Richard, 2 copies. Colenso, W. Commins, Thos. T., 3, St. Paul’s Churchyard. Cornish, Miss, Penzance. Cornish, C. H., Skaton Chapel. Cornish, Henry R., Penzance. Cornish, James M., Penzance. Cornish, Thomas, Penzance, 2 copies. Cornish, Thomas R., Buenos Ayres. Couch, J. Q., M.R.C.S.E., Penzance. Coulson, J. B., Penzance. Courtenay, James, Bristol. Craig, Mrs. S., 11, Parliament Street, Liverpool.

Dent, Mrs., Sudeley Castle, Winchcombe. Dingley, Mrs., Beachfield House, 2 copies. Drake, Rev. W. N., Ruan, 2 copies. Drew, J. E., Penzance.

Fagan, Rev. H. S., St. Just Vicarage. Field, Thomas W., Marazion. Fisher, Edward, Sidmouth.

Geoffroi, H. M., School of Science and Art, Penzance. Gilbert, Hon. Mrs., Trelissick. Green, William, 9, Cullum-street, London, E.C. Grylls, Thos., Penzance.

Harry, R., London. Harvey, Miss, Penzance. Harvey, J. S., Penzance. Hattam, Thomas, St. Anthony. Hosking, Samuel, Bank Buildings, Hull. Hudson, Robert S., Redruth.

James, Arthur H., St. Just. James, John, Rosevean House, 2 copies. James, Stephen H., St. Just. James, Stephen H., B.C.S. Jennings, E., Linares, Spain.

Kevern, J. T., 2 copies.

Lach-Szyrma, Rev. W. S., Newlyn. Lanyon, J. J., Penzance. Lea, Henry Carey, Philadelphia, U.S. Lovell, James, Jun., Chyandour, Penzance.

Mann, Capt. Benjamin P., London. Matthews, Robert, Penzance. Matthews, R., Jun., Tregoose, Helston. Mauleverer, Miss, The Mall, Armagh, Ireland. Menneer, Miss A., 7, Trewartha Terrace, Penzance. Michell, A. O., Marazion. Michell, W. H., Penzance. Millett, George Bown, M.R.C.S., Penzance. Millett, J. N., Lelant. Mitchell, W., “Western” Hotel, Penzance. Montgomery, H. M., 5, Clarence Place, Penzance. Morewood, R. D., Trinity House, London. Müller, Professor Max, Oxford. Nance, Capt. Francis, St. Martin’s, Scilly Isles. Ninnis, Paul C., Linares, Spain. Noy, W. D., London.

Paull, A., M.R.C.S.E., Truro. Paull, Nicholas, Penzance. Pellew, W. H., Penzance. Pentreath, Dr. F. R., Head Master of Winborne School. Pentreath, Capt. Wm., Pentreath Villa, Mousehole. Pentreath, Richard, Australia Villa, Exmouth, Devon. Pentreath, Richard, H.M.C., London, 2 copies. Pentreath, William B., H.M. Customs, London. Peter, Thurstan C., Redruth, 2 copies. Preston, R. H., Penzance, 3 copies. Price, Charles, Birmingham. Prynne, C. M., The Republican, Springfield, Mass., U.S.A.

Ralfs, John, M.R.C.S.E., 2 copies. Rawlings, W. J., Downes, Hayle. Richards, Mrs., Newlyn. Rickarby, James W. B., Brixton, S. W. Rundle, Rev. S., Ladock.

Stewart, Henry, Penzance.

The Penzance Public Library. Thomas, Henry, Clarence place. Trenoweth, Captain James, Jun., London. Trenwith, Charles, Hayle. Trevail, Silvanus, Tywardreath. Trowsdale, T. B., Young People’s Institute, Hull.

Uren, J. C., Penzance. Uren, J. G., Penzance.

Victor, H., Penzance.

Wellington, R., Penzance. White, Miss, Penzance. White, W. N., Covent Garden. White, R., Jun., 6, Cornwall Terrace, Penzance. Wildman, A. C., Penzance. Wildman, Henry E., R.N., Halifax, Nova Scotia. Williams, Henry, Penzance. Williams, J. H., London. Williams, J. H., Higher Penrose Farm, near Helston. Williams, Major, Washington, U.S.A. Williams, T., Trinity House, London.

NOTES

[1] The once general custom of “touching the cravel” for the purpose of averting evils foreshadowed by ill-omens, &c., seems to have almost died out with the disuse of open fire-places for burning furze and turf.

Some fifty years ago the practice must have been known all over the county, and farther off. A “pellar,” called Lutey, then in great repute, enjoined those under his “protection” to perform the rite at stated periods, as a safeguard against witchcraft and bad luck generally. In the spring—as soon as there was twelve hours sun—this wise man was resorted to by people from all parts of the county, and farther away, to have their “protection” renewed. This was always the term used, and its meaning well understood. Great numbers came over from the Scilly Islands, and the captains and crews of Welsh vessels trading to Hayle often sought this conjurer’s aid.

One may hope that the pleasant old Christmas pastime of burning ivy-leaves and rushes was still observed, last Twelfth-night, in some outlying hamlets where the good folks are not yet so “enlightened” as to conceive that they know much more than their grandparents.

Those who have taken part in this old observance for obtaining presages regarding the most important events of life, know that “touching the cravel” must be carefully complied with on leaving the hearth to gather what they require; and the first thing on their return, before any of them may speak, and their more interesting rites commence.

If any of the company happen to speak by the way, the charm is spoiled, and the seeming presages will be unreliable, unless the incautious ones return, touch the cravel, and resume the work.

One may be excused for dwelling so long on these almost forgotten customs, as they may have some significance, interesting to antiquaries at least. It is high time to glean the little that remains of old-world observances; for even in such remote places as the northern parishes, most folks, under middle age, are chary of giving any information about them.

[2] See the Tinner, page 21.

[3] The name usually given to St. Just feast as it is the nearest Sunday to All-Hallows.

[4] Grease which oozes out from the gudgeons of mine machinery.

[5] The herb scrophularia aquatica.

[6] Avena nuda.

[7] At that time the duty on salt was 4d. per pound; and, at the low price for which pork was then sold, it took nearly the value of one side of a carcase to buy enough salt to cure the other side.

[8] Literally corn-feast; the last day of corn carrying, when neighbours usually assist each other, then have a good supper and carouse.

[9] Beacon.

[10] Mean men.

[11] Frogs.

[12] Shell-snails.

[13] Small Lizards.

[14] Patrick Kennedy’s description of an Irish wake, may remind elderly Cornish people of a custom generally observed in West Cornwall, at least, in the last century; that of holding watch-night, with the deceased, for one night, and keeping lighted candles in the room in which the body was laid out, every night until the funeral.

All those friends of the family who intended to follow the body to its grave, as “mourners” were expected to join the watchers. It was customary to have a supper for them (the watchers) about midnight; and a few hours afterwards the watching was concluded.

It was never the custom here, within our remembrance to address the spirit, supposed to be hovering near its body, until the latter was consigned to earth, as the Irish do at this day. In their “croneing” the spirit is mostly spoken to in consoling or flattering words; and often a little blarney is added also. Both in Ireland and here, it was thought a great slight or an insult if friends, who had formal notice of a decease, did not attend at the watch-night or wake. It is evident, however, that these customs are remnants of the same ancient British usage, amongst those of the Celtic race.

A pleasing picture of this ancient observance may be seen in Cymbeline,—Act iv. Scene 2.

[15] He-Goat.

[16] She-Goat.

[17] See page 70.

[18] Mr. W. J. Henwood.

[19] Before this old building was demolished, a few months since, it was photographed by Mr. R. H. Preston.

[20] Wednesday in Feasten week.

[21] Dogs with old tin pans, or the like, tied to their tails.

[22] A century or so ago, the people of Ludgvan were so much celebrated for their dexterity in throwing and catching the silver ball, that they were known far and near as the Ludgvan hurlers, and still hold in remembrance their ancient renown by retaining it to this day as a nickname. Formerly, they were as proud of this name as of their holy well, and of the tradition they firmly believe—that none who have been baptized in its waters ever have been, or ever will be, hanged.

[23] “Malbrook is gone to the wars.” This once popular ditty was a version of the celebrated French song of

“Malbrough s’en va-t-en guerre,
Mironton, mironton, mirontaine,”

which was composed after the battle of Malplaquet in 1709, by some French officers; who, after being defeated by the Duke of Marlborough, consoled themselves by making the facetious song in which they imagined

“Monsieur Malbrough is dead.—
What’s more—he’s buri-ed,”

many years before he gave up the ghost and ceased to be the object of the soldier’s admiration and terror.

The name of Marlborough having been first corrupted by the French into Malbrough, was further changed by the English into Malbrook. Only a few years since the old song was republished in Paris, in the collection of “Chansons Populaires,” under the title of “Mort et convoi de l’invincible Malbrough.” From the translation of an amusing essay, which precedes the song in this collection, we quote the following. Speaking of Marlborough, the writer says, “Not being able to conquer, the enemy lampooned him, and each of his victories was followed by a new satirical song; such verses being in France then, as in the good times of Cardinal Mazarin, the people’s most ordinary means of taking their revenge.”

The song was preserved only by tradition in some of the provinces, where it had been probably left by the soldiers of Villars and de Bufflers; but in 1781 it resounded, all of a sudden, from one end of the kingdom to the other. It happened that when Marie Antoinette gave to the throne of France an heir, he was nursed by a peasant named (probably nicknamed) Madame Poitrine, who had been chosen, among other qualifications, for her healthy appearance, and good humour. The nurse, while rocking the royal cradle, sung Malbrough, and the dauphin, it is said, opened his eyes at the name of the great general. The name, the simplicity of the words, singularity of the burthen, and the touching melodiousness of the air, interested the queen, and she frequently sang it. Everybody repeated it after her, and even the king condescended to quaver out the words, “Malbrough s’en va-t-en guerre.” Malbrough was sung in the state apartments of Versailles; in the kitchens; in the stables; it became quite the rage: from the Court it was adopted by the tradespeople of Paris, and passed thence from town to town, and country to country; it was wafted across to England, where it soon became as popular as in France. It is said that a French gentleman, wishing, when in London, to be driven to Marlborough Street, had totally forgotten its name, but, on singing the air of Malbrough, the coachman understood him immediately, and drove him to the proper address with no other direction.

Goethe, who travelled in France about the same time, was so teased with the universal concert of Malbrough, that he took a hatred to the duke, who was the innocent cause of the musical epidemic. Malbrough made itself heard, without ceasing. Apropos of everything, and apropos of nothing, it gave its name to the fashions, to silks, head-dresses, carriages, and soups—was reproduced, in short, in all manner of ways and forms, and, nothing short of the Revolution, the fall of the Bastile, and the Marsellaise hymn, were sufficient to smother the sounds of that hitherto never ceasing song. The warlike and melancholy air of the song did not, any more than its hero, originate in France, and we have sought in vain to trace its history back from the time when Napoleon—in spite of his general antipathy to music—roared it out whenever he got into his saddle to start on a fresh campaign. We are not unwilling to believe, with M. de Chateaubriand, that it was the same air which the crusaders of Godefroid de Bouillion sang under the walls of Jerusalem. The Arabs still sing it, and pretend that their ancestors learned it at the battle of Massoura, or else from the brothers-in-arms of De Joinville, who repeated it to the clashing of bucklers while pressing forward to the cry of

“Mountjoy, Saint Denis!”