CHARMING, PROPHETIC POWER, ETC.

CHARMING, AND PROPHETIC POWER.

I cannot more appropriately preface this section, than by quoting the remarks of a medical gentleman in large practice, on the subject of charms:—“In common with most of the lower classes of the West of England, the miner is not free from many absurd superstitions, (though I am glad to observe, even in the last few years, a great change has taken place, and such follies are gradually declining.) Some think themselves endowed with a species of supernatural agency, and, like the Egyptian alluded to by Othello, call themselves charmers, and profess to stop the flowing of blood, (no matter from what cause—a divided artery even,) to remove specks from the cornea, (which, in the dialect of the country, are called canons!) and cure erysipelas, by charming. But I have never been able to ascertain by what means the charm is supposed to work. I only know that it is an everyday occurrence for mothers to bring children to the surgery, afflicted with either of the diseases mentioned, and say that they have had them charmed; but they were no better, such want of improvement having obviously excited the greatest feelings of astonishment. I knew a person connected with the mines, who felt himself endowed with prophetic powers; and in his case the divination was not confined to events momentous and terrible, but extended to the most trifling minutiæ of life.

“He with grave simplicity told me one day, by way of exemplifying the proper estimation in which his prophetic powers were held by his wife, that on one occasion, his pig having wandered from his sty, she came to him to ascertain in what direction it was to be sought for; and on his professing utter ignorance of the animal’s peregrinations, she exclaimed, in reproachful tones, ‘Ah, you are not so pious as you used to be. I remember the time when you could have told me in an instant the exact spot to have found it.’”[57]

FORTUNE-TELLING, CHARMS, ETC.

In relation to this subject, and confirming an opinion already expressed in the existence still of a belief in magic and charms, I print the following communication from a lady of considerable literary ability:—

“Every country, it may be safely inferred, has its own individual, perhaps characteristic, Charm-record; and inquiry into it would more than probably recompense the labour, by the light it would let in on the still but little investigated philosophy of the human mind, and the growth of popular superstitions. The portion of our country best known to the writer of these remarks is Cornwall, remarkable for the picturesque wildness of its scenery, and not less so for its numerous superstitions. The Rev. Charles Kingsley, in his ‘Yeast,’ has availed himself, with his usual tact and power, of one of the most striking of these, having reference to the cruel treatment of the Jews, who were sold as slaves to work in the mines; the evil treatment they experienced being avenged on modern miners, by the terrors the souls of the departed Hebrews inflicted, in returning to the scene of their former compulsory toil, and echoing the sounds of the workmen now labouring in flesh and blood. But this is a digression from the main object of this article—viz., the belief in charms. Several years ago, while residing at Falmouth, I remember to have heard of a man in humble life, named Thomas Martin, whose abode was said to be at a village in the neighbourhood of Redruth, and who accomplished wonderful cures of children subject to fits, or personally injured by any deformity, by his power of charming. This man also practised soothsaying to a considerable extent, and revealed, with unquestionable accuracy, where articles mysteriously abstracted were concealed. If a cow suddenly lost her milk, whether witchcraft had exerted its malignant influence on the non-producing animal or no, such a personage could not but exercise an important power over the rustic population of the neighbourhood. But belief in the mysterious intelligence of Martin was by no means confined to the peasant class. A highly-respected and even ladylike person told the writer, with all the gravity becoming such a communication, that she had once made an appointment with Thomas Martin to meet him at a certain stile, for the purpose of receiving from him the prediction of her future lot,—in other words, having her fortune told; and hastening thither at the time appointed, was horrified to find the stile occupied by a large black snake. As Martin did not make his appearance, she inferred that he had assumed the serpent form, and not being disposed to hold any intercourse with a being of such questionable exterior, she hastened away, determined never more to risk the attainment of the knowledge she coveted through a probably diabolic channel.

“This anecdote is given as veritable experience of the belief which may prevail in a mind fairly intelligent, and generally rational in conducting the ordinary business of life.

“Martin’s reputation was disputed by no one, and that it continued unimpaired to the close of his life reflects no inconsiderable credit on the shrewdness and sagacity of his mind and his power of guessing.

“In the town where the writer has been residing for the last four months, there is a female, advanced in years and of good character, who, according to the report of many persons,—one a relative of her own,—is peculiarly endowed with the power of charming away the disease called the “kennel,” an affection of the eye, which causes extreme pain. A young lady’s father was one evening suffering severe pain in the right eye, and after trying various remedies without effect, (the agony having greatly increased,) in her despair she sought an occasion to leave the house, and hastened at once to the abode of the charmer. She told her errand to the woman, who said that many had come to her for the purpose of ridiculing her, and she did not like to say anything about charming—she did not wish to be laughed at. On this the young lady assured her that her object in true faith was to obtain relief for her suffering father, and by no means to indulge the spirit of ridicule. On this representation she was satisfied, and desired to know the kind of kennel which affected the gentleman’s eye. This information the daughter was unable to give her, being unacquainted with their peculiarities; ‘because,’ said the charmer, ‘there are nine kinds of kennels,’ intimating at the same time that a different charm might be said or applied to each,—so that, to avoid omitting any, she must say the charms for all, in order that the one especially affecting the diseased eye should be certainly included in the charm. She went up-stairs, and remained about half an hour. On her return she addressed the young lady, and told her she might go home, where she would learn whether the eye had been relieved. She took no money for her incantation. Any little present might be offered at a subsequent visit, but no direct payment was ever requested, and indeed would have been declined. The amazement and pleasure of the anxious daughter, on her arrival at home, will be imagined, on learning from her father that the intense pain in the eye had ceased during her absence, though he had not been made acquainted with her errand. The influence of the faith of another, in this case, on the relief of the afflicted person, has no verisimilitude save with that of the father of the demoniac in the gospel, or the removal of the son’s fever in consequence of the faith of the father. I have no reason whatever to question the truth of this story, which was confirmed by the wife of the gentleman thus relieved.

“A still more curious instance of the effect of charm, though quite of another character, was related to me by the same party. The gentleman referred to being much afflicted with cramp, his wife was earnestly advised, by a country woman to whom she mentioned the circumstance, to request her husband to place his slippers, with the toes turned upward, at the foot of the bed. Half smiling at the wise counsel, yet perhaps not altogether incredulous, he followed the good woman’s advice, and to his great comfort found himself unaffected by his dreaded enemy throughout the night. His faith being thus established in the anti-cramp influence of upturned slippers, he took care to place them, or to have them placed, in the prescribed attitude on several successive nights. One night, however, he was again seized with some appalling twinges, and bethinking himself of the cause, suddenly recollected that in hastening into bed he had not observed the important rule; instantly he had the slippers restored to their proper position, and, to his astonishment and delight, the pain ceased, and visited him no more. After this experience of the wonderful effects that followed so simple a specific, it may be easily imagined that he did not again risk the return of the cramp from neglecting it. Such phenomena seem beyond the power of explanation on any known medical principles. If any one more than usually versed in the subtle power exercised on the body by the mind, can throw light on the slipper cure of the cramp, he will deserve much at the hands of physiological and mental science.”

S. E. M.

THE ZENNOR CHARMERS.

Both men and women in this parish possessed this power to a remarkable degree. They could stop blood, however freely it might be flowing. “Even should a pig be sticked in the very place, if a charmer was present, and thought of his charm at the time, the pig would not bleed.” This statement, made by a Zennor-man, shews a tolerably large amount of faith in their power. The charmers are very cautious about communicating their charms. A man would not on any account tell his charm to a woman, or a woman communicate hers to a man. People will travel many miles to have themselves or their children charmed for “wildfires,” (erysipelas,) ringworms, pains in the limbs or teeth, “kennels” on the eyes, (ulcerations.) A correspondent writes me:—“Near this lives a lady charmer, on whom I called. I found her to be a really clever, sensible woman. She was reading a learned treatise on ancient history. She told me there were but three charmers left in the west,—one at New Mill, one in Morva, and herself.” Their charm for stopping blood is but another version of one given on another page.

J—— H——, The Conjurer of St Colomb.

This old man was successful in persuading his dupes that he owed his powers over evil spirits to his superior learning and his unblemished life. This assumption of piety was well preserved, and to the outside world his sanctity was undoubted. The only practice which can be named as peculiar to H—— was that of lighting scores of candles and placing them around the meadow near his house. Of course such a display would attract much attention; and J—— succeeded in conveying an impression to the minds of the country people that this process was required to counteract the spells of the witches. When this old fellow has been summoned, as he often was, to the houses supposed to be under the influence of evil, or to be bewitched, his practice was not a little original, though wanting in all that dignifies the office of an exorcist. When he arrived at the house, before speaking to any one, he would commence operations by beating with a heavy stick on the wooden partitions, screens, or pieces of furniture, so as to make the greatest possible noise, shouting loudly all the time, “Out! out! out!—Away! away! away!—to the Red Sea—to the Red Sea—to the Red Sea.” Frequently he would add, with violent enunciation and much action, a torrent of incoherent and often incomprehensible words, (locally, “gibberish.”) The proceeding being brought to a close, and the spirits of evil flown, every part of the house was ordered to be well cleansed, and the walls and ceilings to be thoroughly lime-washed,—certainly the only sensible part of the whole operation. When J—— H—— was applied to respecting stolen property, his usual practice was to shew the face of the thief in a tub of water. J—— drove a considerable trade in selling powders to throw over bewitched cattle.[58]

CURES FOR WARTS.

I.

The vicar of Bodmin found, not long since, a bottle full of pins laid in a newly-made grave. I have heard of this as an unfailing remedy; each wart was touched with a new pin, and the pin then dropped into the bottle. I am not quite certain that it was necessary that the bottle should be placed in a newly-made grave; in many cases burying it in the earth, and especially at a “four cross-roads,” was quite sufficient. As the pins rust, the warts decay.

II.

A piece of string should be taken, and as many knots tied on it as there are warts on the body; each wart being carefully touched with the knot dedicated to it. The string is then to be buried, and the warts fade away as it decays. A few years since a shipwright in Devonport dockyard professed to cure warts by merely receiving from an indifferent person a knotted string,—the knots of which had been tied by the afflicted. What he did with the string I know not.

III.

To touch each wart with a pebble, place the pebbles in a bag, and to lose the bag on the way to church, was for many years a very favourite remedy; but the unfortunate person who found the bag received the warts. A lady once told me that she picked up such a bag, when a child, and out of curiosity, and in ignorance, examined the contents. The result was that she had, in a short time, as many warts as there were stones in the bag.

IV.

Another remedy was to steal a piece of meat from a butcher’s stall in the public market, and with this to touch the warts, and bury it. As the meat putrefied the warts decayed.

V.

I remember, when quite a child, having a very large “seedy wart” on one of my fingers. I was taken by a distant relation, an elderly lady, residing in Gwinear, to some old woman, for the purpose of having this wart charmed. I well remember that two charred sticks were taken from the fire on the hearth, and carefully crossed over the fleshy excrescence, while some words were muttered by the charmer. I know not how long it was before the wart disappeared, but certainly, at some time, it did so.

A CURE FOR PARALYSIS.

Margery Penwarne, a paralysed woman, about fifty years of age, though from her affliction looking some ten years older, sat in the church porch of St ——, and presented her outstretched withered arm and open palm to the congregation as they left the house of God after the morning service.

Penny after penny fell into her hand, though Margery never opened her lips. All appeared to know the purpose, and thirty pennies were speedily collected. Presently the parson came with his family, and then she spoke for the first time, soliciting the priest to change the copper coins into one silver one. This wish was readily acceded to, and the paralytic woman hobbled into the church, and up the aisle to the altar rails. A few words passed between her and the clerk; she was admitted within the rails, and the clerk moved the communion-table from against the wall, that she might walk round it, which she did three times.

“Now,” said Margery, “with God’s blessing, I shall be cured; my blessed bit of silver must be made into a ring,” (this was addressed to the clerk, half aside;) “and within three weeks after it is on my finger I shall get the use of my limbs again.”

This charm is common throughout the three western counties for the cure of rheumatism,—the Devonshire halt,—or for any contraction of the limbs.

A CURE FOR RHEUMATISM.

Crawl under a bramble which has formed a second root in the ground. Or get a woman who has been delivered of a child, feet foremost, to tread the patient.

SUNDRY CHARMS.

The vicar of a large parish church informs me that a woman came to him some time since for water from the font after a christening; she required it to undo some spell. The vicar states, that all the fonts in the country were formerly locked, to prevent people from stealing the “holy water,” as they called it.

CURE FOR COLIC IN TOWEDNACK.

To stand on one’s head for a quarter of an hour.

FOR A SCALD OR BURN.

Bramble-leaves, or sometimes the leaves of the common dock, wetted with spring water, are employed in this charm, as also in the following one.

CHARMS FOR INFLAMMATORY DISEASES.

A similar incantation to that practised for a burn is used. Three angels are invoked to come from the East, and this form of words is repeated three times to each one of nine bramble-leaves immersed in spring water, making passes with the leaves from the diseased part.

CHARMS FOR THE PRICK OF A THORN.

I.

II.

CHARMS FOR STANCHING OF BLOOD.

As this is repeated by ignorant old men or women, it becomes a confused jargon of unmeaning words, but it impresses the still more ignorant sufferer with awe, approaching to fear. The following is more common:—

CHARM FOR A TETTER.

Thus the verses are continued until tetter, having “no brother,” is imperatively ordered to begone.

CHARM FOR THE STING OF A NETTLE.

Many a time do I remember, when a child playing in the fields, having suffered from the stings of the nettle, and constantly seeking for the advantages of the charm of the dock-leaf. The cold leaf was placed on the inflamed spot, and the well-known rhyme three times repeated:—

CHARM FOR TOOTHACHE.

CHARM FOR SERPENTS.

The body of a dead serpent bruised on the wound it has occasioned, is said to be an infallible remedy for its bite. Common report is sufficient to warrant a poetical allusion:—

THE CURE OF BOILS.

The sufferer is to pass nine times against the sun, under a bramble-bush growing at both ends. This is the same as the cure prescribed for rheumatism.

RICKETS, OR A CRICK IN THE BACK.

The holed stone—Mên-an-tol—in Lanyon, is commonly called by the peasantry the crick-stone. Through this the sufferer was drawn nine times against the sun—or, if a man, he was to crawl through the hole nine times.

Strumous children were not unfrequently treated after another fashion.

A young ash-tree was cleft vertically, and the parts being drawn forcibly asunder, the child was passed “three times three times” against the sun through the tree. This ceremony having been performed, the tree was carefully bound together: if the bark grew together and the tree survived, the child would grow healthy and strong; if the tree died, the death of the child, it was believed, would surely follow.

THE CLUB-MOSS, (LYCOPODIUM INUNDATUM.)

If this moss is properly gathered, it is “good against all diseases of the eyes.”

The gathering is regarded as a mystery not to be lightly told; and if any man ventures to write the secret, the virtues of the moss avail him no more. I hope, therefore, my readers will fully value the sacrifice I make in giving them the formula by which they may be guided.

On the third day of the moon—when the thin crescent is seen for the first time—shew it the knife with which the moss is to be cut, and repeat,—

At sun-down, having carefully washed the hands, the club-moss is to be cut kneeling. It is to be carefully wrapped in a white cloth, and subsequently boiled in some water taken from the spring nearest to its place of growth. This may be used as a fomentation. Or the club-moss may be made into an ointment, with butter made from the milk of a new cow.

MOON SUPERSTITIONS.

The following superstitions are still prevalent on the north coast of Cornwall:—

“This root, (the sea-poppy,) so much valued for removing all pains in the breast, stomach, and intestines, is good also for disordered lungs, and is so much better here than in other places, that the apothecaries of Cornwall send hither for it; and some people plant them in their gardens in Cornwall, and will not part with them under sixpence a root. A very simple notion they have with regard to this root, which falls not much short of the Druids’ superstition in gathering and preparing their selago and samolus. This root, you must know, is accounted very good both as an emetic and cathartic. If, therefore, they design that it shall operate as the former, their constant opinion is that it should be scraped and sliced upwards—that is, beginning from the root, the knife is to ascend towards the leaf;—but if that it is intended to operate as a cathartic, they must scrape the root downwards. The senecio also, or groundsel, they strip upwards for an emetic and downwards for a cathartic. In Cornwall they have several such groundless opinions with regard to plants, and they gather all the medicinal ones when the moon is just such an age; which, with many other such whims, must be considered as the reliques of the Druid superstition.”[61]

They, the Druids, likewise used great ceremonies in gathering an herb called samolus, marsh-wort, or fen-berries, which consisted in a previous fast, in not looking back during the time of their plucking it, and, lastly, in using their left hand only; from this last ceremony, perhaps, the herb took the name of samol, which, in the Phœnician tongue, means the left hand. This herb was considered to be particularly efficacious in curing the diseases incident to swine and cattle.—(C. S. Gilbert.)

CURES FOR WHOOPING-COUGH.

I.

Gather nine spar stones from a running stream, taking care not to interrupt the free passage of the water in doing so. Then dip a quart of water from the stream, which must be taken in the direction in which the stream runs;—by no means must the vessel be dipped against the stream.

Then make the nine stones red hot, and throw them into the quart of water. Bottle the prepared water, and give the afflicted child a wine-glass of this water for nine mornings following. If this will not cure the whooping-cough, nothing else can, says the believer.

II.

A female donkey of three years old was taken, and the child was drawn naked nine times over its back and under its belly. Then three spoonfuls of milk were drawn from the teats of the animal, and three hairs cut from the back and three hairs cut from the belly were placed in it. This was to stand for three hours to acquire the proper virtue, and then the child drank it in three doses.

This ceremony was repeated three mornings running, and my informant said the child was always cured. I knew of several children who were treated in this manner in one of the small villages between Penzance and Madron Church-town, some twenty or thirty years since. There were some doggerel lines connected with the ceremony, which have escaped my memory, and I have endeavoured, in vain, to find any one remembering them. They were to the effect that, as Christ placed the cross on the ass’s back when He rode into Jerusalem, and so rendered the animal holy, if the child touched where Jesus sat, it should cough no more.

CURE OF TOOTHACHE.

One good man informed me that, though he had no faith in charming, yet this he knew, that he was underground one day, and had the toothache “awful bad, sure enough; and Uncle John ax’d me, ‘What’s the matter?’ says he. ‘The toothache,’ says I. ‘Shall I charm it?’ says he. ‘Ees,’ says I. ‘Very well,’ says he; and off he went to work in the next pitch. Ho! dedn’t my tooth ache, Lor’ bless ee; a just ded ye knaw; just as if the charm were tugging my very life out. At last Uncle John comed down to the soller, and sing’d out, ‘Alloa! how’s your tooth in there?’ says he. ‘Very bad,’ says I. ‘How’s a feeling?’ says he. ‘Pulling away like an ould hoss with the “skwitches,”’ says I. ‘Hal drag my jaw off directly,’ says I. ‘Ees the charm working?’ says he. ‘Es, a shure enuf,’ says I. ‘Es,’ says he, ‘al be better d’rectly.’ ‘Hope a will,’ says I. Goodness gracious! dedn’t a ache; I believe a did you; then a stopped most to once. ‘Es better,’ says I. ‘I thought so,’ says he; ‘and you waan’t have un no more for a long time,’ says he. ‘Thank ee, Uncle John,’ says I; ‘I’ll give ee a pint o’ beer pay-day,’ and so I ded; an’ I haben’t had the toothache ever since. Now, if he dedn’t charm un, how ded a stop? and if he dedn’t knaw a would be better a long time, how ded he say so? No, nor I haven’t had un never since. So that’s a plain proof as he knaw’d all about it, waden’t a you?”

I nodded assent, convinced it was useless to argue against such reasoning as that.

THE CONVALESCENT’S WALK.

If an invalid goes out for the first time and makes a circuit, this circuit must be with the sun; if against the sun, there will be a relapse.

ADDERS, AND THE MILPREVE.

The country people around the Land’s-End say that in old times no one could live in the low grounds, which were then covered with thickets, and these swarming with adders. Even at a much later period, in the summer-time, it was not safe to venture amongst the furze on the Downs without a milpreve. (I have never seen a milpreve; but it is described to me as being about the size of a pigeon’s egg, and I am told that it is made by the adders when they get together in great numbers. Is it not probable that the milpreve may be one of the madrepore corals—millepore—found sometimes on the beaches around Land’s-End?)

A friend writes me:—“I was once shewn a milpreve; it was nothing more than a beautiful ball of coralline limestone, the section of the coral being thought to be entangled young snakes.”

When some old men were streaming the “Bottoms” up near Partimey, they were often obliged to leave work on account of the number of adders that would get together as if by agreement, and advance upon them.

One day one of the tin streamers chanced to leave his pot of milk, uncovered, out of the moor-house, when an adder got into it. The man cut a turf and put over the pot to prevent the reptile from escaping. In a few minutes the tinners saw “the ugly things crawling and leaping from all quarters towards the pot.” The streamers were obliged to run, and take which way they would; the adders seemed to be coming from every direction, further and further off.

At last “they formed a heap round the pot as large as a pook [cock] of hay.” Towards night all the reptiles were quite still, then the men gathered together, around the mass of adders, a great quantity of furze, (being summer, there was plenty cut and dry close at hand,) and piled it up like sheaves to make a mow, laying a circle of well-dried turf without it. They then fired the turf on every side, and when it was well ignited, they fired the furze. “Oh, it was a sight to see the adders when they felt the smoke and the flame! they began to boil, as it were, all in a heap, and fell back into the flaming furze; those which leaped through perishing on the brilliant ring of burning peat. Thus were killed thousands upon thousands of adders, and the moors were clear for a long, long period.”

This is related nearly as the story was told; but it appears necessary to make some allowance for that spirit of exaggeration which is a characteristic of all Celtic people, ere they have been tutored to know the dignity of truth.

“The country people retaine a conceite, that the snakes, by their breathing upon a hazel-wand, doe make a stone ring of blew colour, in which there appeareth the yellow figure of a snake, and that beasts which are stung, being given to drink of the water wherein this stone hath bene socked, will there-through recover.”[62]

This was clearly one of the so-called “Druidic rings,”—examples of which may be seen in our museums,—which have been found in England and in Ireland. It is curious that at the glassworks of Murano, near Venice, they still make rings, or beads, precisely resembling the ancient ones, and these are used largely as money in Africa.

Snakes were formerly held in great reverence; and Camden asserts that one of the prevailing superstitions concerning them was that, about midsummer-eve, they all met together in companies, and, joining their heads, began a general hiss, which they continued until a kind of bubble was formed, which immediately hardened, and gave to the finder prosperity in all his undertakings.[63]

Lhuyd, in a letter written in 1701, gives a curious account of the then superstitious character of the people in this district. “The Cornish retain variety of charms, and have still towards the Land’s-End the amulets of Maen Magal and Glain-neider, which latter they call a Melprer, a thousand worms, and have a charm for the snake to make it, when they have found one asleep, and struck a hazel-wand in the centre of its spiræ.” Camden mentions the use of snake-stones as a Cornish superstition.

“The very same story, in fact, is told of the Adder-stane in the popular legends of the Scottish Lowlands, as Pliny records of the origin of the Ovum Anguinum. The various names by which these relics are designated all point to their estimation as amulets or superstitious charms; and the fact of their occurrence, most frequently singly, in the sepulchral cist or urn, seems to prove that it was as such, and not merely as personal ornaments, that they were deposited with the ashes of the dead. They are variously known as adder-beads, serpent-stones, Druidical beads; and, amongst the Welsh and Irish, by the synonymous terms of Gleini na Droedh and Glaine nan Druidhe, signifying the magician’s or Druid’s glass.”—Wilson’s Archæology and Prehistoric Annals of Scotland, p. 304.

SNAKES AVOID THE ASH-TREE.

It is said that no kind of snake is ever found near the “ashen-tree,” and that a branch of the ash-tree will prevent a snake from coming near a person.

A child, who was in the habit of receiving its portion of bread and milk at the cottage door, was found to be in the habit of sharing its food with one of the poisonous adders. The reptile came regularly every morning, and the child, pleased with the beauty of his companion, encouraged the visits. The babe and adder were close friends.

Eventually this became known to the mother, and, finding it to be a matter of difficulty to keep the snake from the child whenever it was left alone,—and she was frequently, being a labourer in the fields, compelled to leave her child to shift for itself,—she adopted the precaution of binding an “ashen-twig” about its body.

The adder no longer came near the child; but from that day forward the child pined, and eventually died, as all around said, through grief at having lost the companion by whom it had been fascinated.

TO CHARM A SNAKE.

When an adder or snake is seen, a circle is to be rapidly drawn around it, and the sign of the cross made within it, while the two first verses of the 68th Psalm are repeated:—

“Let God arise, let his enemies be scattered: let them also that hate him flee before him.

“As smoke is driven away, so drive them away: as wax melteth before the fire, so let the wicked perish at the presence of God.”

When a child, I well remember being shewn a snake, not yet dead, within a circle of this kind; the gardener who drew my attention to the reptile informing me that he had charmed it in the manner related.

THE ASH-TREE.[64]

Weakly children—“children that wouldn’t goode,” or thrive—were sometimes drawn through the cleft ash-tree. I have seen the ceremony performed but in one case.

The tree was young, and it was taken by the two forks,—bifurcation having taken place,—and by force rended longitudinally. The cleft was kept open, and the child, quite naked, was passed head first through the tree nine times. The tree was then closed and carefully tied together. If the severed parts reunited, the child and the tree recovered together; if the cleft gaped in any part, the operation was certain to prove ineffectual.

I quote another example. A large knife was inserted into the trunk of the young tree, about a foot from the ground, and a vertical rending made for about three feet. Two men then forcibly pulled the parts asunder, and held them so, whilst the mother passed the child through it three times. This “passing” alone was not considered effective; it was necessary that the child should be washed for three successive mornings in the dew from the leaves of the “charmed ash.”

In the Athenæum for September 1846, Ambrose Merton—Mr Thoms—has some interesting notices of the widespread belief in, and the antiquity of, this superstition.

RHYME ON THE EVEN ASH.

A TEST OF INNOCENCY.

A farmer in Towednack having been robbed of some property of no great value, was resolved, nevertheless, to employ a test which he had heard the “old people” resorted to for the purpose of catching the thief. He invited all his neighbours into his cottage, and when they were assembled, he placed a cock under the “brandice,” (an iron vessel formerly much employed by the peasantry in baking, when this process was carried out on the hearth, the fuel being furze and ferns.) Every one was directed to touch the brandice with his, or her, third finger, and say, “In the name of the Father, Son, and Holy Ghost, speak.” Every one did as they were directed, and no sound came from beneath the brandice. The last person was a woman, who occasionally laboured for the farmer in his fields. She hung back, hoping to pass unobserved amidst the crowd. But her very anxiety made her a suspected person. She was forced forward, and most unwillingly she touched the brandice, when, before she could utter the words prescribed, the cock crew. The woman fell faint on the floor, and, when she recovered, she confessed herself to be the thief, restored the stolen property, and became, it is said, “a changed character from that day.”

THE BONFIRE TEST.

A bonfire is formed of faggots of furze, ferns, and the like. Men and maidens by locking hands form a circle, and commence a dance to some wild native song. At length, as the dancers become excited, they pull each other from side to side across the fire. If they succeed in treading out the fire without breaking the chain, none of the party will die during the year. If, however, the ring is broken before the fire is extinguished, “bad luck to the weak hands,” as my informant said.

LIGHTS SEEN BY THE CONVERTED.

There is, in many parts of the county, a belief, derived no doubt from the recollection of St Paul’s conversion, that, when sinners are converted, they see shining lights about themselves. I have many times heard this, but every one seems to have his own particular mode of describing the phenomenon,—where they can be prevailed on to describe it at all,—and usually that is derived from some picture which has made an impression on their minds: such as, “exactly like the light shining round the angel appearing to St Peter, in fayther’s Bible.”

THE MIGRATORY BIRDS

I find a belief still prevalent amongst the people in the outlying districts of Cornwall, that such birds as the cuckoo and the swallow remain through the winter in deep caves, cracks in the earth, and in hollow trees; and instances have been cited of these birds having been found in a torpid state in the mines, and in hollow pieces of wood. This belief appears to be of some antiquity, for Carew writes in his “Survey of Cornwall” as follows:—

“In the west parts of Cornwall, during the winter season, swallows are found sitting in old deep tynne-works, and holes in the sea cliffes: but touching their lurking-places, Olaus Magnus maketh a far stranger report. For he saith that in the north parts of the world, as summer weareth out, they clap mouth to mouth, wing to wing, and legge to legge, and so, after a sweet singing, fall downe into certain lakes or pools amongst the caves, from whence at the next spring they receive a new resurrection; and he addeth, for proofe thereof, that the fishermen who make holes in the ice, to dip up such fish in their nets as resort thither for breathing, doe sometimes light on these swallows congealled in clods, of a slymie substance, and that, carrying them home to their stoves, the warmth restored them to life and flight.”

A man employed in the granite quarries near Penryn, informed me that he found such a “slymie substance” in one of the pools in the quarry where he was working, that he took it home, warmth proved it to be a bird, but when it began to move it was seized by the cat, who ran out on the downs and devoured it.

SHOOTING STARS.

A mucilaginous substance is found on the damp ground near the granite quarries of Penryn, this is often very phosphorescent at night. The country people regard this as the substance of shooting stars. A tradesman of Penryn once brought me a bottle full of this substance for analysis, informing me that the men employed at the quarries, whenever they observed a shooting star, went to the spot near which they supposed it to fall, and they generally found a hat full of this mucus. It is curious that the Belgian peasants also call it “the substance of shooting stars,” (“Phosphorescence,” p. 109. By T. L. Phipson.) This author says, “I have sketched the history of this curious substance in the Journal de Médecine et de Pharmacologie of Bruxelles, for 1855. It was analysed chemically by Mulder, and anatomically by Carus, and from their observations appears to be the peculiar mucus which envelops the eggs of the frog. It swells to an enormous volume when it has free access to water. As seen upon the damp ground in spring, it was often mistaken for some species of fungus; it is, however, simply the spawn of frogs, which has been swallowed by some large crows or other birds, and afterwards vomited, from its peculiar property of swelling to an immense size in their bodies.”

In Mulder’s account of its chemical composition, given by Berselius in his Rapport Annual, he distinguishes it by designation of mucilage atmosphérique.

THE SUN NEVER SHINES ON THE PERJURED.

There appears to exist a very old superstition, to the effect that when a man has deeply perjured himself,—especially if by his perjury he has sacrificed the life of a friend,—he not merely loses the enjoyment of the sunshine, but he actually loses all consciousness of its light or its warmth. Howsoever bright the sun may shine, the weather appears to him gloomy, dark, and cold.

I have recently been told of a man living in the western part of Cornwall, who is said to have sworn away the life of an innocent person. “The face of this false witness is the colour of one long in the tomb; and he has never, since the death of the victim of his forswearing, seen the sun.” It must be remembered the perjured man is not blind. All things around him are seen as by other men, but the sense of vision is so dulled that the world is for ever to him in a dark, vapoury cloud.

CHARACTERISTICS.

An esteemed and learned correspondent, himself a Cornishman, writing to me on the Cornish character, says:—

“There are some adages in which beadledom receives various hard knocks—that abstraction mostly taking the shape of some unlucky mayor; and I have heard in Cornwall, but never elsewhere, that the greatest fool in the place for the time being is always made the mayor.

“There is an adage of the Mayor of Calenich, (and yet I doubt if ever that hamlet had such an officer.) Calenich is one mile from Truro, and the mayor’s hackney was pastured two miles from home; so, as his worship would by no means compromise his dignity by walking to Truro, he invariably walked to his horse to ride there, so that it was said of any one who would keep up appearances at great trouble, that he was ‘like the Mayor of Calenich, who walked two miles to ride one.’

“The class who never know on which side their bread is buttered, are said to be ‘like the Mayor of Market-Jew, sitting in their own light;’ and the stupid man whose moods, whether of sadness or merriment, are inopportune, is, as may be, said to be ‘like the Mayor of Falmouth, who thanked God when the town-jail was enlarged.’

“Many persons are chronicled in the same manner.

“‘Like Nicholas Kemp, he’s got occasion for all.’ Nicholas was said to be a voter in a Cornish borough, who was told to help himself (so that no one should have given him a bribe,) from a table covered with gold, in the election committee-room. Taking off his hat, he swept the whole mass into it, saying, ‘I’ve occasion for all.’

“‘Like Uncle Acky Stoddern, the picture of ill luck.’ This was always applied to a once well-known Gwennap-man.

“When a boy is asked what he will be, it is sometimes answered on his behalf, ‘I’ll be like Knuckey, be as I am.’

“‘Like Nanny Painter’s hens, very high upon the legs,’ is applied to a starveling or threadpaper.

“‘Like Malachi’s cheeld, choke-full of sense,’ applied derisively to any one boasting of himself or of his children. This is, I believe, purely Cornish.

“‘Like a toad under a harrow, I don’t know whichee corse to steer.’ The first division of this adage is common property, the last is confined to Cornwall.

“‘He is coming home with Penny Liggan,’ sometimes ‘Peter Lacken,’ signifies the return of a pennyless scapegrace. The term was probably ‘penny lacking’ originally.

“Are the Cornish folk given to making ‘bulls,’ like the Irish?” asks my correspondent. “I have heard of one or two curious inversions of speech.

“Once upon a time a little boy having vainly importuned his seniors for a penny to go and buy sweets, being determined not to be disappointed, went off, exclaiming, ‘I don’t care; I’ll go and trust Betty Rule,’ (the sweetmeat vendor.) This is native and genuine Gwennapian.

“The common people are fond of figures of speech. Port-wine negus was christened by the miners ‘black wine toddy.’ They go on Midsummer-day to Falmouth or Penzance, to get ‘a pen’ord o’ say’—that is, they go out in a boat on payment of a penny.

“With them, when their health is inquired after, every man is ‘brave,’ and every woman ‘charming;’ and friendship takes dear household names into its mouth for more expressiveness.

“‘Well, Billy, my son, how’s faether?’

“‘Brave, thank ee.’

“‘How are you, Coden [Cousin] Jaan, and how’s Betty?’

“‘She’s charming, thank ee.’

“Trade is a word of special application, ‘a pa’cel o’ trade.’

“A precious mess is ‘a brave shape.’

“Of an undecided person it is said, ‘He is neither Nim nor Doll.’ Does this mean he is neither Nimrod nor Dorothy?

“A phrase descriptive of vacuity of expression is, ‘He looks like anybody that has neither got nor lost.’”

Years since it was a common custom to assign some ridiculous action to the people of a small town or village. For example, the people of one place were called “Buccas,” “because some one of them was frightened at his shadow.”

Those of another town were named “Gulls,” “because two of the townsmen threw a gull over a cliff to break its neck.”

The men of a fishing-village were nicknamed “Congers,” “because they threw a conger overboard to drown it.”

“Who whipped the hake?” was applied to the inhabitants of another town, because hake, it is said, being excessively plenty, the fishermen flogged one of those fish, and flung it back into the sea; upon which all the hakes left that coast, and kept away for years.[65]

“Who drowned the man in a dry ditch?” belongs especially to another place.

Certain Cornishmen built a wall around the cuckoo, to prevent that bird from leaving the county, and thus to insure an early spring. When built, the bird flew out, crying “Cuckoo! cuckoo!” “If we had put one course more on the wall we should a’ kept’n in,” said they.

Camborne is so called from Camburne, a crooked well-pit of water. This crooked well was at one time far famed for the cure of many diseases.

The persons who washed in this well were called Merrasicke. I know not the meaning of the word. According to an old Cornish custom of fixing nicknames on people, the inhabitants of Camborne are called Mearageeks, signifying perverse, or obstinate.—(Lanyon.)

The Church was anciently called Mariadoci. I therefore suspect that the above terms have some connexion with this name. By an easy corruption, and the addition of geeks, or gawks, (meaning awkward,) either word can be produced.

Of the Gorran men it is asked, “Who tried to throw the moon over the cliffs?”

THE MUTTON FEAST.

An old tradition—the particulars of which I have failed to recover—says that a flock of sheep were blown from the Gwithian Sands over into St Ives Bay, and that the St Ives fishermen caught them,—believing them to be a new variety of fish,—either in their nets, or with hook and line, and brought them ashore as their night’s catch.

I learn that Mr Fortescue Hitchins, some fifty or sixty years since, wrote a “copy of verses” on this tradition, but I have never seen this production.

THE FLOATING GRINDSTONE.

I have already told of St Piran and his grindstone. I have, however, another and a more modern story, which is told with great glee at some of the social meetings of the fishermen. This is given merely to indicate the simplicity of this honest race.

A party was got together on a promontory at the extremity of the bay which enclosed a fishing-town. They were gathered to see a wonder, a floating grindstone. Seeing that grindstones were grindstones in those days, and worth many pounds sterling, a boat was manned, and away they went, the mover of the expedition being in the bow of the boat.

As they approached the grindstone, this man planted his foot on the gunwale, ready for a spring. They were close aboard the circular mass,—“All my own, and none for nobody,” he cries, and sprang off, as he fancied, on to the grindstone. Lo! to his great surprise, he sank under water, presently popping up again within his charmed circle, to be greeted with roars of laughter. He had leaped into a sheet of “salt sea foam” which had gathered, and was confined within a large hoop.

CELTS—FLINT ARROW-HEADS, ETC.

The common people believe these to be produced by thunder, and thrown down from the clouds, and that they shew what weather will ensue by changing their colour.

I have also found a belief prevailing in many districts, that Celts impart a virtue to water in which they have been soaked, and that diseases have been cured by drinking it.

HORNS ON THE CHURCH TOWER.

When the masons were building the tower of Towednack Church, the devil came every night and carried off the pinnacles and battlements. Again and again this work was renewed during the day, and as often was it removed during the night, until at length the builders gave up the work in despair, feeling that it was of no use to contend with the evil one.

Thus it is that Towednack Church stands lonely, with its squat and odd-looking tower, a mark of the power of evil to the present day. Associated with this tower is a proverb: “There are no cuckolds in Towednack, because there are no horns on the church tower.”

TEA-STALKS AND SMUT.

Stems of tea floating in that beverage indicate strangers. Flakes of smut hanging loose to the fire-bars do the same thing.

The time of the stranger’s arrival may be known by placing the stem on the back of one hand, and smacking it with the other; the number of blows given before it is removed indicates the number of days before his arrival.

The flake of carbon is blown upon, and according as it is removed by the first, second, or third blow, so is the time at the end of which the visitor may be expected.

AN OLD CORNISH RHYME.

The pilchard visits this coast in the early autumn. These are the “fish” par excellence of the Cornish, and they are thus distinguished.

TO CHOOSE A WIFE.

Ascertain the day of the young woman’s birth, and refer to the last chapter of Proverbs. Each verse from the 1st to the 31st is supposed to indicate, either directly or indirectly, the character, and to guide the searcher—the verse corresponding with her age indicating the woman’s character.

THE ROBIN AND THE WREN.

This feeling is deeply impressed on every young mind; there are few, therefore, who would injure either of those birds.

I remember that a boy in Redruth killed a robin: the dead robin was tied round his neck, and he was marched by the other boys through the town, all of them singing the above lines.

TO SECURE GOOD LUCK FOR A CHILD.

Give the first person whom you meet between your own house and the church to which you are taking the infant to be christened, a piece of bread and salt.

INNOCENCY.

To wash the hands is an attestation of innocency. To call a man “dirty fingers,” is to accuse him of some foul or unjust deed.

RAIN AT BRIDAL OR BURIAL.

If it rains while a wedding party are on their way to the church, or on returning from it, it betokens a life of bickering and unhappiness.

If the rain falls on a coffin, it is supposed to indicate that the soul of the departed has “arrived safe.”

CROWING HENS, ETC.

A whistling maid and a crowing hen in one house, is a certain sign of a downfall to some one in it. I have known hens killed for crowing by night.

The braying of an ass is a sign of fair weather; so is also the crowing of a cock. The quacking of ducks foretells rain.

THE NEW MOON.

To see the new moon for the first time, through glass, is unlucky; you may be certain that you will break glass before that moon is out. I have known persons whose attention has been called to a clear new moon, hesitate. “Hev I seed her out a’ doors afore?” if not, they will go into the open air, and if possible shew the moon “a piece of gold,” or, at all events, turn their money.

LOOKING-GLASSES.

Breaking a looking-glass is certain to insure seven years of misfortune.

THE MAGPIE.

A scolding woman is called a magpie. Whenever you see a magpie, take off your hat to it; this will turn away the anger.

THE MONTH OF MAY UNLUCKY.

May is regarded by many as an unhealthy and unlucky month.

Children born in the month of May are called “May chets,” and kittens cast in May are invariably destroyed, for—

Another rhyme is—,

meaning that funerals will be plenty.

ON THE BIRTHS OF CHILDREN.

ON WASHING LINEN.

ITCHING EARS.

When the ears are red and itch, it is a sign that some one is talking of the suffering individual. If it is the left ear, they are being scandalised; if the right ear, they are being praised.

Often have I heard, when the lower and middle class people have been indulging in some gossip of their neighbours or friends, “I’ll bet how their ears do itch.”

THE SPARK ON THE CANDLE.

A bright spark on the candle-wick indicates a letter coming to the house. The person towards whom it shines will receive it. The time of its arrival is determined by striking the bottom of the candlestick on the table. If the spark comes off on the first blow, it will be received to-morrow; if two blows are required, on the second day, and so on.

THE BLUE VEIN.

A fond mother was paying more than ordinary attention to a fine healthy-looking child, a boy about three years old. The poor woman’s breast was heaving with emotion, and she struggled to repress her sighs. Upon inquiring if anything was really wrong, she said “the old lady of the house had just told her that the child could not live long, because he had a blue vein across his nose.”

THE CROAKING OF THE RAVEN.

There is a common feeling that the croaking of a raven over the house bodes evil to some member of the family. The following incident, given to me by a really intelligent man, illustrates the feeling:[66]—

“One day our family were much annoyed by the continued croaking of a raven over our house. Some of us believed it to be a token; others derided the idea; but one good lady, our next-door neighbour, said, ‘Just mark the day, and see if something does not come of it.’ The day and hour were carefully noted. Months passed away, and unbelievers were loud in their boastings and inquiries after the token.

“The fifth month arrived, and with it a black-edged letter from Australia, announcing the death of one of the members of the family in that country. On comparing the dates of the death and the raven’s croak, they were found to have occurred on the same day.”

WHISTLING.

To whistle by night is one of the unpardonable sins amongst the fishermen of St Ives. My correspondent says, “I would no more dare go among a party of fishermen at night whistling a popular air than into a den of untamed tigers.”

No miner will allow of whistling underground. I could never learn from the miners whether they regarded it as unlucky or not. I rather think they feel that whistling indicates thoughtlessness, and they know their labour is one of danger, requiring serious attention.

MEETING ON THE STAIRS.

It is considered unlucky to meet on the stairs, and often one will retire to his or her room rather than run the risk of giving or receiving ill luck.

I find this superstition prevails also in the Midland counties.

TREADING ON GRAVES.

So sings Coleridge in his ballad of “The Three Graves.”

Whenever a person shivers from a sensation of cold down the spine, it is said some one is walking over his or her grave.

Persons believing this will give directions that they may be buried in some secluded corner of the churchyard, so that their corpse may not be disturbed by unholy footsteps.

A LOOSE GARTER.

If an unmarried woman’s garter loosens when she is walking, her sweetheart is thinking of her.

TO CURE THE HICCOUGH.

Wet the forefinger of the right hand with spittle, and cross the front of the left shoe or boot three times, repeating the Lord’s Prayer backwards.

THE SLEEPING FOOT.

This irregularity in the circulation is at once removed by crossing the foot with saliva.

THE HORSE-SHOE.

To nail a horse-shoe, which has been cast on the road, over the door of any house, barn, or stable, is an effectual means of preventing the entrance of witches.

THE BLACK CAT’S TAIL.

Those little gatherings which occur on the eye-lids of children, locally called “wilks,” are cured by passing a black cat’s tail nine times over the place. If a ram cat, the cure is more certain.

UNLUCKY THINGS.

To put the loaf on the table upside down—to cut the butter at both ends—to place the bellows on the table—to upset the salt—to cross your knife and fork—to pour gravy out of a spoon backwards, (or back-handed,) is each unlucky, and leads to quarrels. To borrow or lend a bellows is most unlucky, and many would rather give than lend one.

If you are going on an errand, never turn back to your house, it presages ill luck to do so. If, however, you are compelled to it, fail not to sit down. By doing this, some mischief may be avoided.

THE LIMP CORPSE.

If a corpse stiffens shortly after death, all is thought to proceed naturally; but if the limbs remain flexible, some one of the family is shortly to follow. If the eyes of a corpse are difficult to close, it is said “they are looking after a follower.”

To find a louse on one’s linen, is a sign of sickness. To find two, indicates a severe illness. If three lice are so found within a month, it is a “token to prepare.”

Talking backwards, or putting one word incorrectly before another,—“the cart before the horse,”—is considered to foretell that you will shortly see a stranger.

If two young people, in conversation, happen to think of the same thing at the same time, and one of them utters the thought before the other, that one is certain to be married first.

“BY HOOK OR BY CROOK.”

In the parish of Egles-Hayle are two crosses, known as “Peverell’s Crosses;” and near Mount Charles, also in this parish, is another “moorstone” cross, called the Prior’s Cross, whereon is cut the figure of a hook and a crook, in memory of the privileges granted by a prior, belonging to the family of the Peverells, who are said to have possessed lands in this parish since the time of Richard II.

The poor of Bodmin were greatly distressed through the scarcity of fuel, the “turf,” or peat of the moors being insufficient to supply their wants. The prior gave “privilege and freedom” to the poor of Bodmin for gathering, for “fire-boote and house-boote,” such boughs and branches of oak-trees in his woods of Dunmear, as they could reach to, or come at, with a “hook and a crook,” without further damage to the trees.

Hence the proverb concerning filching, “that they will have it by hook or by crook.”

WEATHER SIGNS.

The Weather Dog.—It frequently happens in unsettled weather that banks of rain-cloud gather around the horizon, and that, over isolated tracts, the rain falls. If these depositions from this low stratum of clouds occur opposite to the sun, the lower limb of a bow is formed, often appearing like a pillar of decomposed light; and sometimes two of these coloured bands will be seen, forming indeed the two extremities of the arch. These are “weather dogs,” and they are regarded as certain prognostications of showery or stormy weather.[67]

The usual proverb with regard to the full bow; which prevails generally, is common in Cornwall,—

But, as far as I know, the “weather dog” is peculiarly Cornish.

WEATHER AT LISKEARD.

THE FIRST BUTTERFLY.

“One of the superstitions prevailing in Devonshire is, that any individual neglecting to kill the first butterfly he may see for the season, will have ill luck throughout the year.”[68] The following recent example is given by a young lady:—“The other Sunday, as we were walking to church, we met a man running at full speed, with his hat in one hand, and a stick in the other. As he passed us he exclaimed, ‘I shan’t hat ’en now, I b’lieve.’ He did not give us time to inquire what he was so eagerly pursuing; but we presently overtook an old man, whom we knew to be his father, and who, being very infirm, and upwards of seventy, generally hobbled about by the aid of two sticks. Addressing me, he observed, ‘My zin a took away wan a my sticks, miss; wan’t be ebble to kill’n now though, I b’lieve.’ ‘Kill what?’ said I. ‘Why, ’tis a butterfly, miss,—the furst hee’th a zeed for the year; and they zay that a body will have cruel bad luck if a ditn’en kill a furst a zeeth.’”

I have found this belief prevailing in the east, but never in the west, of Cornwall.

PECULIAR WORDS AND PHRASES.

“The people in the west,” writes a correspondent, “have adopted many words from the Danish invaders.” Tradition assures us that the sea-rovers of the North frequently landed at Witsand Bay, burned and pillaged the villages of Escols and Mayon, sometimes took off the women, but never made a settlement. Certain red-haired families are often referred to as Danes, and the dark-haired people will not marry with “a red-haired Dane.” He continues:—“If you were in Buryan Church-town this evening, you might probably hear Betty Trenoweth say, ‘I’ll take off my touser, [toute serve,] and run up to Janey Angwins to cousey [causer] a spell; there’s a lot of boys gone in there, so there’ll be a grand courant, [de courir,] I expect.’ In a short time Betty may come back disappointed, saying, ‘’Twas a mere cow’s courant after all, cheld vean—all hammer and tongs.’”

The touser is a large apron or wrapper to come quite round and keep the under garments clean. By a courant with the boys, they mean a game of running romps. It is not at all uncommon in other parts of the country to hear the people say, “It was a fine courant,” “We’ve had a good courant,” when they intend to express the enjoyment of some pleasure party. These are, however, probably more nearly allied to Norman-French.

There are some proverbial expressions peculiar to the west:—

“Sow barley in dree, and wheat in pul.”[69]

“To make an old nail good, right it on wood.”

“Fill the sack, then it can stand.”

The last meaning that neither man nor beast can work on an empty stomach.

The following are a few of less common expressions, preserving remarkable words:—

’Tis not bezibd—It is not allotted me.

He will never scrip it—He will never escape it.

He is nothing pridy—He is not handsome.

Give her dule—Give her some comfort or consolation.

Hark to his lidden—Listen to his word or talk.

It was twenty or some—It was about twenty.

The wind brings the pilme—The wind raises the dust.

How thick the brusse lies—How thick the dust lies.

He is throyting—He is cutting chips from sticks.

He came of a good havage—He belongs to a good or respectable family.

Hame—a straw collar with wooden collar-trees, to which are fastened the rope traces.

Scalpions (buckthorn, or rather buckhorn)—salt dried fish, usually the whiting.

“Eating fair maids, or fermades—(fumadoes)—[pilchards,] and drinking mahogany, [gin and treacle.]”