June 16. 1855.] 



NOTES AND QUERIES. 



457 



LONDON. SATURDAY, JUNE IG. 1855. 



THE FOLK LORE OF A CORNISH VILLAGE ! FAIRY 

 MYTHOLOGT. 



(Continued Jrom p. 398.) 



The Pisky Threshers. — The next legend, though 

 connected by us with a particular farm-house in 

 the neighbourhood, is of much wider fame, and 

 well illustrates the capriciousness of their tempers, 

 and shows that the little folk are easily offended by 

 an offer of reward, however delicately tendered. 



Long, long ago, before threshing-machines were 

 thought of, the farmer who resided at C, in going 

 to his barn one day, was surprised at the extra- 

 ordinary quantity of corn that had been threshed 

 during the previous night, as well as puzzled to 

 discover the mysterious agency by which it was 

 effected. His curiosity led him to inquire into 

 the matter ; so at night, when the moon was up, 

 he crept stealthily to the barn-door ; and looking 

 through a chink, saw a little fellow, clad in a very 

 tattered suit of green, wielding the " dreshel " 

 (flail) with astonishing vigour, and beating the 

 floor with blows so rapid that the eye could not 

 follow the motions of the implement. The farmer 

 slunk away unperceived, and crept to bed ; where 

 he lay a long while awake, thinking in what way 

 he could best show his gratitude to the pisky for 

 such an important service. He came to the con- 

 clusion, at length, that, as the little fellow's clothes 

 were getting very old and ragged, the gift of a 

 new suit would be a proper way to lessen the 

 obligation ; and, accordingly, on the morrow he 

 had a suit of green made of what was supposed to 

 be the proper size, which he carried early in the 

 evening to the barn, and left for the pisky's ac- 

 ceptance. At night, the farmer stole to the door 

 again to see how his gift was taken. He was just 

 in time to see the elf put on the suit ; which was 

 no sooner accomplished than, looking down on 

 himself admiringly, he sung : 



" Pisky fine, and pisky gay, 

 Pisky now will fly away." 



Or, according to other narrators : 



" Pisky new coat, and pisky new hood, 

 Pisky now will do no more good." 



From that time the farmer received no assistance 

 from the fairy flail. 



Another story tells how the farmer, looking 

 through the key-hole, saw two elves threshing 

 lustily, now and then interrupting their work to 

 say to each other, in the smallest falsetto voice : 

 "I tweat, you tweat ?" The poor man, unable to 

 contain his gratitude, incautiously thanked them 

 through the key-hole ; when the spirits, who love 

 to work or play, " unheard and unespied," in- 



stantly vanished, and have never since visited 

 that barn. 



They seem sometimes to have delighted in mis- 

 chief for its own sake. Old Robin Hicks, who 

 formerly lived in a house on the cliff, has more 

 than once, on stormy winter nights, been alarmed 

 at his supper by a voice sharp and shrill : " liobin ! 

 Robin ! your boat is adrift." Loud was the 

 laughter and the tacking of hands when they suc- 

 ceeded in luring Robin as far as the quay, where 

 the boat was lying safely at her moorings. 



The Fisherman and the Piskies. — ^John Taprail, 

 long since dead, moored his boat one evening 

 beside a barge of much larger size, in which his 

 neighbour John Rendle traded between this place 

 and Plymouth ; and as the wind, though gusty, 

 was not sufficient to cause any apprehension, he 

 went to bed and slept soundly. In the middle of 

 the night he was awoke by a voice from without 

 bidding him get up, and "shift his rope ovei* 

 Rendle's," as his boat was in considerable danger. 

 Now, as all Taprail's capital was invested in his 

 boat and gear, we may be sure that he was not 

 long in putting on his sea-clothes, and going to its 

 rescue. To his great chagrin, he found that » 

 joke had been played upon him, for the boat and 

 barge were both riding quietly at their ropes. On 

 his way back again, when within a ^Qvr yards of 

 his home, he observed a crowd of the little people 

 congregated under the shelter of a boat that was 

 lying high and dry on the beach. They were sit-, 

 ting in a semicircle, holding their hats towards 

 one of their number, who was engaged in dis-. 

 tributing a heap of money, pitching a gold piece 

 into each hat in succession, after the manner ia, 

 which cards are dealt. Now John had a covetou? 

 heart ; and the sight of so much cash made him. 

 forget the respect due to an assembly of piskies, 

 and that they are not slow to punish any intrusion 

 on their privacy ; so he crept slyly towards them, 

 hidden by the boat, and, reaching round, managed 

 to introduce his hat without exciting any notice. 

 When the heap was getting low, and Taprail was 

 awaking to the dangers of detection, he craftily 

 withdrew his hat and made off with the prize. 

 He had got a fair start, before the trick was dis- 

 covered ; but the defrauded piskies were soon ,on 

 his heels, and he barely managed to reach his 

 house and to close the door upon his pursuers. 

 So narrow indeed was his escape, that he had left 

 the tails of his sea-coat in their hands. Such is 

 the evidently imperfect version of an old legend, 

 as it is remembered by the fishermen of the pre- 

 sent generation. We may suppose that John 

 Taprail's door had a key-hole; and there would 

 have been poetical justice in the story, if the elves 

 had compelled the fraudulent fisherman to turn 

 his hat or pocket inside out. 



Our legend of the pisky midwife is so well re- 

 lated by Mrs. Bray, that it need not again be 



