602 



NOTES AND QUERIES. 



[No. 139. 



of masticable solidity, and not, as some one has it, 

 mere 



" Shadowry dancers by the summer streams." 

 So the old lady went to the place where the 

 fairies dwelt, and knocked at the hill-top: — 

 " Pretty little Jip ! " said she ; " come and see the 

 sack of cherries I have brought thee, so large, so 

 red, so sweet." Fairies, be it known, are ex- 

 tremely fond of this fruit, and the elf rushed out 

 in eager haste. " Ha ! ha ! " said One-eye, as she 

 pounced upon him, and put him in her bag 

 (witches always carry bags), " take care the stones 

 don't stick in thy throttle, my little bird." On the 

 way home, she has to visit a place some distance from 

 the road, and left Jip meanwhile in the charge of 

 a man who was cutting faggots. No sooner was 

 her back turned, than Jip- begged the man to let 

 him out; and they filled the bag with thorns. 

 One-eye called for her burden, and set off towards 

 home, making sure she had her dinner safe on her 

 back. " Ay, ay I my lad," said she, as she felt the 

 pricking of the thorns ; " I'll trounce thee when I 

 get home for stinging me with thy pins and 

 needles." When she reached her house, she be- 

 laboured the bag with a huge stick, till she thought 

 she had broken every bone in the elf's body ; and 

 when she found that she had been wasting her 

 strength upon a "kit" of thorns, her rage knew 

 no bounds. Next day, she again got possession of 

 Jip in a similar manner, and this time left him in 

 care of a man who was breaking stones by the 

 road- side. The elf makes his escape as before, 

 and they fill the sack with stones. " Thou little 

 rogue ! " said the witch, as she perspired under the 

 burden ; " I'll soften thy bones nigh-hand." Her 

 appetite was only whetted, not blunted, by these 

 repeated failures ; and despairing of again catch- 

 ing her prey in the same way as before, she 

 assumed the shape of a pedlar with a churn on his 

 shoulder, and contrived to meet Jip in a wood. 

 'J Ah ! Master Redcap," quoth she ; " look alive, my 

 little man, the fox is after thee. See ! here he 

 comes : hie thee into my churn, and I will shelter 

 thee. Quick! quick!" In jumped the elf. "Pretty 

 bird!" chuckled the old Crocodile; "dost thee 

 scent the fox?" This time she went straight 

 home, and gave Jip to her daughter, with strict 

 orders that she should cut off his noddle and boil 

 it. When the time came for beginning the cook- 

 ing, Miss One-eye led her captive to the chopping- 

 block, and bade him lay down his head. " How f " 

 quoth Jip ; " I don't know how." " Like this, to 

 be sure," said she ; and, suiting the action to the 

 word, she put her poll in the right position. In- 

 stantly the fairy seizes the hatchet, and serves her 

 in the manner she intended to serve him. Then 

 picking up a huge pebble, he climbs up the chim- 

 ney to watch the progress of events. As he ex- 

 pected, the witch came to the fire to look after 

 her delicacy ; and no sooner does she lift up the 



lid of the pot, than "plop" came down Jip's peb- 

 ble right into the centre of her remaining optic, 

 the light of which is extinguished for ever; or, 

 according to some versions, killed her stowe-dead.* 



Some of the stories are so extremely like the 

 German ones, that, with very slight alterations, they 

 would serve as translations. These, for obvious 

 reasons, it will not be worth while to trouble you 

 with. Among them, I may particularise the fol- 

 lowing from the Kinder und Hausmarchen : — Hans 

 im Gluck : Der Frieder und das Catherlieschen ; 

 Von der Frau Fiichsin ; and Van den Nachandel- 

 Boom. 



Modern tales of diablerie are not so uncommon 

 as might be expected. In the time of Chaucer, 

 the popular belief ascribed the departure of the 

 elves to the great number of wandering friars who 

 mercilessly pursued them with bell, book, and 

 candle ; and at the present day, in the opinion of 

 our uneducated peasantry, the itinerant sectarian 

 preachers are endowed with similar attributes. 

 The stories told of these men, and their encounters 

 with the powers of darkness, would fill a new 

 Golden Legend. There is one tale in particular 

 which comes within our designation of " popular 

 stories," as is well known in almost all parts of 

 England, — How a godly minister falls over the 

 company of wicked scoffing elves, and how he gets 

 out.f The last time I heard it, it was related of 

 a preacher of the Ranting persuasion, well known 

 some dozen years ago in a certain district of 

 Warwickshire ; and I prefer to give it in this local- 

 ised form, as it enables me to present your readers 

 with " Positively the last from Fairyland." 



Providence B was a well-known man 



throughout that whole country-side. He had 

 made more converts than all his brethren put to- 

 gether, and, in the matter of spirits and demons, 

 would stand a comparison with Godred or Gutlac, 

 or, by'r Lady, St. Anthony himself. Now it fell 

 out one day, that Providence was sent for to the 

 house of a wealthy yeoman to aid in expelling an 

 evil spirit which had long infested his daughter. 

 I must here remark, en pai-enthese, that scenes of 

 this fearfully ludicrous nature are far from un fre- 

 quent in our country districts. The besotted 

 state of ignorance in which a great portion of our 

 rural population are still enwrapt, renders them 

 peculiarly open to the fleecing of these fanatics, 

 who, marvellous to relate, are almost everywhere 



* This story is from Northamptonshire, and by some 

 oversight was omitted in my Dialect and Folk-Lore. 



f I use the term elves advisedly ; for though, of course, 

 the creed of rantism does not recognise the existence ot' 

 the mere poetic beings, yet it absolutely inculcates 

 belief in all sorts of fcona _;?c/e corporeal demons: which, 

 like the club-footed gentry of the saintly hermits, are 

 nothing more than Teutonic elfen in ecclesiastical mas- 

 querade. 



