CHAPTER VIII

OMENS, CHARMS, RECIPES

Quite a volume might be written on the above; their number and variety is legion. Therefore in brief only will it be possible to treat many of our omens, &c. To some few of the more striking a few details will be given.

Many of the omens, charms, &c., quoted are in no sense peculiar either to our riding or county. They are with us, they are duly observed, and the belief in them is not wholly dead yet.

To break a looking-glass foreshadows an early death, or great evil in the near future, and for any one (if they have not previously seen or spoken to the person that day) to look over his or her shoulder, so that their reflection is seen in the glass, foretells an untimely death to one or both. Should a hen crow, the reward for its exhibiting such marvellous vocal powers would be immediate death. The old song says (date, the early seventies)—

Than awn a crawing hen, Ah seeaner wad t’ au’d divil meet, Hickity O, pickity O, pompolorum jig, Or breed a whistling lass, Ah seeaner wad t’ au’d divil treeat, Hickity O, pickity O, pompolorum jig. Nowt bud ill-luck ’ll fester wheear Ther craws an’ whistles sike a pair; Maay hens an’ wimin breed neea mair, Pompolorum jig.

A dog howling under your window three nights in succession portends evil or death in the near future. A picture falling, if the glass be broken, speaks clearly of a death in the family at no very distant date; the glass being intact, implies that misfortune of some kind is hanging overhead, but possibly everything may come right in the end.

A strange cat coming to your house, if black, should never be driven away; if you do so, you simply drive luck from your door.

If you are unmarried, be very careful to keep in mind the fact that, having attended three funerals, you must at least be present during part of a wedding service before standing at the graveside of a fourth, or you will die single, unless you are exceedingly rash, and get married in spite of everything.

If you accidentally break anything, it is a good plan to let two other articles of little or no value slip from your hand. This will save you from breaking two other things of value, because you are bound to smash three, and it is really an advantage to be allowed to choose two of them yourself.

Yes, things go by threes. If one death takes place in a street, it won’t be long ere the bell tolls for two others—so say they.

If the youngest daughter in a family is married first, the eldest had better unravel one of her garters, knitting the same, mixed with other wool, into something a man can wear. This she must present to the one she has a special regard for, and it most likely will incline his heart towards her. Garters, by-the-way, are rather out of it now; they once were articles in great request, to work charms and spells with, but that was in the days when either a long band with a buckle, or a knitted affair about an inch wide and a yard long, was universally worn. In these days of patent things and other inventions, some of which do not encircle the leg at all, the girls are debarred from resorting to many of the old-time spells. In days past, so long as a fellow wore one of his lady love’s garters round his neck, he was bound to be true to her and she to him. Did a fellow try the same thing now, he would strangle himself. The old-time garters, by-the-way, had other uses; the Bible, a key, and a garter often playing the part of a private detective, or infallibly making known to some doubting maiden the name of the man she would marry. The _modus operandi_ was as follows:—In the case of an undetected thief, a key was placed within the Bible; this was bound securely within by winding a garter round it, the whole being suspended from a nail. The name of the supposed thief was now mentioned three times—in some districts seven—and if the key turned round, the thief was discovered.

Very similar were the rites used for the discovery of a future husband. In this case, however, the maiden wishing to know her fate, had to use one of her own garters, and it was also needful that the Bible should be opened at Ruth i. 16, 17. Some part of the key resting on the verses named, the Bible was then closed, and the key as before bound fast with the garter. The questioner and some other person now seated themselves opposite each other, each placing an elbow on a table and resting the open part of the key on their index fingers. All being thus arranged, the names of several of their male acquaintances were mentioned, the key turning on the name of the future husband being uttered. Not long ago the writer helped a maiden through the ceremony. The above, and the two following, are still commonly resorted to.

There is no difficulty in obtaining information touching the time you will be married. Simply let an anxious maiden take a looking-glass, and an apron which she has never worn or held between herself and the light, into the garden when the moon is at full; she must be careful not to look upon the queen of night until the rites are concluded. Keeping her back, then, to the moon, let her stand upon something she has never stood upon before—a newspaper, an old box, anything—and drawing the apron over the glass, hold it so that the moon shines upon it; let her now count the number of moons she sees reflected through the apron, and so many years will it be before the happy day arrives. I may mention, if such a one is in any violent hurry to get married, it is best to choose the apron of some light material, and to draw it tightly over the glass; careful attention to these small details has a marvellous tendency to lessen the number of moons.

Throughout Cleveland the maidens have recourse to the following method of divination for the discovery whether they are to be married or die old maids. From a stream running southward a maiden fills a clean glass with water, and having borrowed an old wedding ring, or one worn by a widow—the ring must grace maternity—she suspends it over the glass of water hanging by a single hair drawn from her own head, her elbow resting on the table and the hair being laid over the ball of the thumb. Should the ring hit the side of the glass, her fate is sealed—she will die an old maid; if, however, it spins round quickly, she will have to wait a year; if slowly, she will be wedded more than once.

It is commonly held that if you can find a four-leaved clover, and then walk backward upstairs to bed, sleeping with the leaf under your pillow, you will dream of the man you will marry.

It is considered most unlucky to see the new moon for the first time through glass. To break the spell cast upon you by such an unfortunate occurrence, make the sign of the cross on the doorstep, and jump backwards over it into the house.

Should a hairy worm cross your path, pick it up, throw it over your shoulder, and wish.

If you tread on an ordinary road beetle, rain will presently fall.

Whenever you hear a cuckoo, turn the money over in your pocket for luck.

To see a single magpie is very unlucky; two together is the reverse.

To see a single owl is also unlucky; but to hear one hoot, and then see it, foretells that you will have timely warning of some impending evil.

Wet your finger and cross your left shoe and wish every time you see a piebald horse.

Should two persons utter the same words at the same time, they must link their little fingers together and wish, keeping their wish secret.

The deciduous teeth of a male child, which have not touched the ground, if kept about the person are a specific against all manner of evil.

To ensure the child having a good and sound set of teeth, those which fall out of themselves, or which the child itself pulls out, should be dipped in salt and thrown into the fire.

A tooth found in a churchyard is believed to charm away the toothache if rubbed on the cheek.

And lastly, children’s teeth must either be carefully preserved or utterly destroyed by fire with salt, as should one accidentally be swept away and fall into the ground, or be buried by some evil-minded person, the child will not live long, the first rites of ashes to ashes having been consummated.

No luck will follow a declaration of love if made on St. Dunstan’s Day.

To be wed on St. Thomas’s Day makes a bride a widow ere long.

A young woman, a native of Great Ayton, assured me the following was a certain charm for obtaining a sight of one’s future spouse. The individual desirous of obtaining such a vision must make a cake of the following ingredients:—flour, a small pinch of graveyard mould taken from nine different graves, sufficient water from nine distinct sources, a pinch of salt, and a drop or two of blood from her third finger. The resulting dough had to be baked at midnight on the eve before that of St. Agnes, and whilst warm placed under the pillow; if found whole in the morning, well and good; if not, the charm could not be carried to its conclusion until the following year. The cake, if whole, had to be carried on the eve of St. Agnes and laid where four cross roads meet. All being accomplished, just before midnight the future husband or wife would come along, halt, look at the cake, and then vanish. Although the night might be pitch-dark, the apparition, it seems, would be quite visible. Immediately the spirit form vanished, the watcher must regain possession of the cake at once, or the water elves would seize it and work all manner of evil. These water elves keep cropping up, but little of their doings and nothing of their appearance seems to be known amongst our people. It is a bit of lost myth.

During harvest time you may easily discover how long you are destined to wait before being led to the altar. When the moon is at full, pluck three ripe ears of barley, which must be carefully wrapped up together with something belonging to him you love best. The parcel must be laid under your pillow, and on arising in the morning, open it, and if all the grains have remained _in situ_, then you will be wed that year; but if any have broken away, count how many—they tell how many years you will remain single.

If a young fellow is in love, and the girl’s heart does not incline towards him, there is a charm which will cast a spell about her from which she cannot escape. There is a difficulty, and rather a grave one, but love surmounts all things, so they say. He must cut off a willow knot and chew it. So far, it is quite a simple affair; given time, a love-lorn swain might manage to masticate the whole tree. But now comes the difficulty—having chewed the said knot, he must secrete the same in the bed of the girl he loves. Once she falls asleep with that chewed knot as her companion, she will be bound to yield to his importunities. Should, however, the knot be so placed that it causes the fair sleeper such inconvenience that she is compelled to find the cause, and having done so, throws it away, that young man may consider his case as hopeless.

If you can, within three days after becoming engaged, seize a snail by its horns and throw it over your left shoulder, you will to a very considerable extent reduce the roughness of the road which true love is said to journey along.

And remember it is unlucky to say good-night three times to the girl you love, without returning to the house and starting the whole thing over again, but one doesn’t mind that. When parting with friends for any length of time, never say goodbye without adding that you hope to see them again, and never watch the parting ones out of sight—it is most unlucky.

The various nostrums administered, and the methods employed in days past for the cure of all the diseases man is heir to, one cannot help but think, if carefully observed, would usually have terminated in a funeral feast. The rank filth our forefathers had prepared for them, and doubtless were induced to swallow, has left behind the unsolvable mystery of accounting for the fact that specimens of the Anglo-Saxon race are still extant. Putting on one side for the moment the wretched stuff they had to swallow, let us turn to a few things usually employed to effect a cure.

If any one was seized with a colic, and colic water was not handy, all that was necessary was for some one to slip out and catch either a carp or a pike, slit the fish open whilst alive, and clap it on the stomach of the sufferer—and lo! a cure. This sounds all very nice, but it has often taken me three days to catch a pike, and carp, by-the-way, are not very widely distributed; and as colic water required for the making thereof nearly every flower which blooms in our woods and gardens, and of two or three others which never do so in ’perfidious Albion’—and when actually all things had been obtained, it could not be properly prepared under nine months—possibly there may have been some other remedy I have not heard of, and which could be applied during the time the pike was being captured, otherwise the patient would often have a lengthy squirm of it.

For pains in the joints, a toad tied belly downwards over the affected part would enable the patient to walk as well as ever. Now this is something sensible; just you find a poor body suffering from pains in the joints, and then produce a toad, and you will work a miracle. Long before you can tie it belly downwards anywhere, the patient, if a female, will be beating her best running record; if a male, his joints will be right in an instant, and you will have to take the toad outside, minus dignity.

An old lady tells me she has known a drink made from the following ingredients do a power of good in case of fever:—a handful of dandelion, agrimony, verjuice, rue, powdered crab’s eyes and claws, and yarrow from off a grave. These had to be boiled for some hours, and taken when the moon was on the wane. Doubtless there was another recipe equally efficacious for those who unfortunately were struck down with fever when the moon was on the rise.

The tongue of a still-born calf, if dried and worn so that it touched the spine, would prevent fits of almost any kind.

Wart-charmers are not defunct yet. I know several who, after pronouncing an inaudible incantation, rub the wart with a special stone, and then you are assured the wart or warts will die. Frog spit rubbed on a wart is said to be a certain cure. If you rub your wart with a black snail, sticking the snail on a thorn where you will never see it again, the wart, as the snail dies, will disappear. If you yearn to afflict any one with warts, let them wash in water in which eggs have been boiled. This belief is quite common to-day. A plate of salt, upon which a dead man’s hand has rested overnight, used to be considered good for chilblains.

Master Sadler of Bedale, in the year 1773, undertook the cure of ague in quite a simple way. After the patient had answered a few searching questions touching his past private life—which information doubtless he would much rather have kept to himself—his name was chalked at the back of the hob, an incantation pronounced, and he went home whole. I am inclined to the belief that many in these days would have to take the ague back with them. The ague is bad enough, but for a fellow to systematically trot out one’s past doings would be infinitely worse. That was a hundred years ago; but only the other day I was told that if a field-mouse was skinned and made into a small pie and eaten, and the warm skin bound hair-side against the throat, and kept there for nine days, the worst whooping cough ’’at ivver was’ would be cured.

Speaking of whooping cough, I remember a lady at Guisborough, only a few years ago, taking both her boys to the gasworks for them to inhale the fumes from the gas-tank. It nearly poisoned the whole three, but the cough survived it nicely. However, that and the field-mouse were infinitely preferable to the recipe I had from an old dame, who assured me ’no cough o’ no kind whatsoever could stan’ agaan it.’ It was this: equal quantities of hare’s dung and owl’s pellets—the latter are the disgorged remains of feathers, bones, &c., which the owl objects to digest. Well, having carefully mixed these two ingredients with dill-water, clay, and the blood of a white duck, the resulting filth had to be made into pills the size of a nut, three of which had to be taken fasting on going to bed. This was to be continued until the cough was cured or the patient buried. A much simpler method is to catch a frog, open its mouth and cough into it three times, throw the poor brute over your left shoulder, and the patient will be cured at once. If not, depend upon it there is some very good reason why the charm has failed. One woman I knew, used to take her little girl and hold her over an old well when a bad fit of coughing seized the child. She declared, if at the time either a frog or a toad happened to be at the bottom of the well with its mouth open, the child would be cured instantly. I offered to catch her a frog and open its mouth for the child to cough into; this she objected to, because, as she said, the frog might spit at it and injure it for life. This belief in the poisonous and spitting power of frogs is still retained by the good people of Great Ayton, and also of many other places. I remember an old angler once saying to me, ‘Ya see, the Lord gav’ t’ fishes understan’ing; tha knaw ’at frogs is venomous, an’ tha’re a gran’ bait foor pike, bud neea pike’ll tak ho’d if ya deean’t run t’ heuk thruff baith ther lips, seea ez tha can’t spit at ’em.’ ‘But,’ said I, ‘how do the pike catch them when they are swimming in a natural state?’ ‘Easy eneeaf,’ answered he; ‘tha tak hodden ’em fra behint, an’ tha can’t spit backkards waay ower ther heeads, ya knaw.’

Still another plan may be tried to ease the little sufferers. If they be passed nine times under the belly and over the back of either a piebald pony or an ass (the latter preferred), the cough will be immediately charmed away, whilst a touch on the larynx from the hand of a seventh son of a seventh son is held to be a certain cure. And a hairy caterpillar or small wood-lizard tied round the child’s neck, having been stitched in a small bag, was, and I believe is yet, looked upon as a sovereign remedy.

Snail soup is drunk even to-day for the cure of consumption. And the skin of an eel (if skinned when alive), placed in a silken bag and worn so as to rest on the chest, is believed to cut phlegm when nothing else will.

To cure the ‘water-springs,’ an old name for acidity or heartburn, old people tell me the following is an infallible cure if taken in time—a very wise proviso—burnt oyster, cockle, and mussel shells ground to powder, equal parts, and mixed in worm-water. This latter was prepared by gathering a handful of worms from the churchyard and boiling them. The burnt shells might do good; ordinary water and chalk would have been equally efficacious, had they but known it.

But nearly every disease or complaint had its cure in days past, and, in a more or less degree, all were nasty.

For the moment let us return to wart-charmers. There is room here for both speculation and research. They did cure warts, of that there is not the least shadow of a doubt. The amount of evidence on record is such that contradiction and disbelief amounts to crass folly, and shows an ignorance of well-authenticated facts. A man I know, whose hand was covered with warts—warts which simply jeered at caustic and all such applications—at last went to the charmer. What did the man do? He simply asked the old chap if he believed he could remove them. Having answered in the affirmative, the charmer just rubbed his hand over the whole lot, muttered some words, and told the warty one to go home—in a fortnight’s time he was wartless. Hundreds of cases could be given. Absolute faith that they would disappear, may have exercised some mental action over the physical, and the trick was done. In this way, if we admit some hypnotic power which they unconsciously used, we may account for many of the wonders which these charmers and wise men worked in days past, often bringing about results at which possibly no one was more surprised than the wise men themselves; but they, like many of to-day, had the sense to hold their peace, and that has often dressed many a conjuring trick with all trappings of philosophy.

It is held to-day, when any one is bitten by a dog, that the only certain remedy against hydrophobia is to have the brute killed at once. For, say they, should the dog in years to come go mad, all those bitten by it will go mad at the same time.

The wearing of silver rings made from a single coin presented at Holy Communion, was once held as a sovereign remedy and preventive against epileptic fits.

The cures for children and others afflicted with worms are many and curious. A few of the more striking will be noticed. A bunch of fine yarrow, gathered from off a maiden’s grave, had to be boiled in water, and a wineglassful of the liquor, with the addition of as much finely powdered glass as would lie on a groat, had to be taken fasting for six alternate mornings, bearing in mind that each morning the patient was not fattening himself on corpse yarrow and broken window-panes; he had also to swallow a stiff glass of salts and senna, which not only made every kind of worm quit its hold of his inside, but left him in a condition almost, if not quite, ready for the worms to commence their attack from the outside. Worms, however, are seized with such a sudden fear when a live trout is brought near them, that they die right off. Hence it is not an uncommon thing for a father to procure a live trout, and lay the same on the stomach of a wormy one. And then, what with the fish kicking and the bairn screaming, the poor worms have no chance, and they know it, and throw up the sponge accordingly.

In days past cramp seems to have awakened people three or four times a week. But sleeping with your stockings on, with a piece of sulphur in each, or the skin of a mole bound round the left thigh, or even crossing your shoes on retiring to rest, would drive the cramp away. Cramp, it would seem, was formerly looked upon as having a very close connexion with the devil, and was often the result of an evil wish, spell, or witch-work. In cases when it arose from any of the latter, something more potent than sulphur and the crossing of shoes had to be resorted to. A silken thread which had been passed round a coffin, care having been taken to thread the silk through the handles, would, if worn round the leg, just below the knee-joint, securely guard the wearer against wicked spells of that nature.

The skin of an eel, if tied round the leg, prevents cramp whilst bathing.

Rings fashioned from any metal accidentally turned up whilst digging a grave, were until quite recently in great repute, especial virtue being attached to one made from a coffin handle. Such rings acted as a charm against almost every kind of evil spell.

Years ago it was commonly believed that there was some kind of sympathy existing between the cause and the injury itself. An illustration of this has been given in the case of a dog-bite, but it had a much wider application; e.g. should any one be injured by a nail, or anything else, the nail, &c., was carefully cleaned, polished, wrapped up, and put away each time after dressing the wound.

I remember a case in point within the last ten years. A plough lad was hurt by the colter, the cutting iron of the plough; the ploughing was stopped, the colter removed, and sent to the blacksmith, with orders to remove all dirt and rust, and to polish all parts to which blood was adhering; and during the recovery, each time the wound was dressed, the colter was cleaned and polished with equal care.

Flint arrow-heads were for ages looked upon as elf-stones, and are to-day worn as charms against unseen evils. They also possess healing power in certain diseases. So, too, do the belemnites—a fossilized portion of an extinct cuttle-fish. These, in the hand of a skilled person, work wonders in the case of sore eyes and ringworm. Unfortunately, though belemnites are common enough, the skilled hands are rare, and so their virtue in thousands of instances lies dormant. These belemnites are supposed to fall from the clouds during a thunderstorm; the same is said of rounded pieces of quartz or flints, one and all being called thunder-bolts, or ’thunner-steeans.’

When a boy, I was an ardent archaeologist. I remember on one occasion having been told that chipped flints were to be found in a field near Blois Hall[28]. Hurrying thither the first whole holiday, I was fortunate enough on that occasion to find a flint arrow-head—the only one I ever did find. This I showed to an old fellow who was hedging; without hesitation he pronounced it to be an elf-stone, declaring that the elves were evil spirits, who in days past used to throw them at the kie—I had up to that time always been told they were shot at cattle—but my informant stuck to throwing. I well remember that he also said the elves got them out of whirlpools, where they were originally made by the water spirits, but he could not say what the water spirits used them for, though he knew of several instances in which both cattle and horses had been injured by the elves throwing their elf-stones at them. He further informed me that when the elves got them from the whirlpools, they had much longer shanks than was on the one I had found: this was so that better aim might be taken with them. ‘But,’ said he, ‘tha’re nivver fund wi’ lang shanks on, acoz t’ fairies awlus brak ’em off, seea ez t’ elves wadn’t be yabble ti potch ’em at t’ beasts neea mair;’ and he had been told that fairies often wore them as ornaments. Sore eyes could be cured by the touch from an elf-stone, if a fairy had ever worn it, and they were also a potent love-charm if worn so that they rested near the heart.

Speaking of fairies, I know an old lady who still fully believes in their existence. She assures me they have most beautiful houses at a great depth below the surface. It seems no one ever finds them, because the little folk possess the magical power of transporting them to a distance in an instant, should there be the least likelihood of their being disturbed; owing to this, ‘Nobody nivver cums across ’em when well-sinking, mining, or owt o’ that soart.’

The old body told me the following story:—

In the days when tailors went out to work, she remembered one who came to work for her aunt being lost for a long time in a big field, and unable to find his way out, and all because he had said, ‘If ever he saw a fairy he would catch her, and take her home, and put her in a bottle and keep her there.’ So it happened, when he left the house to go home, and just when he entered the long pasture, he dropped his scissors, and for long he could not find them, and when he did place his hand on them, his sleeve-board was snatched from him. He heard it drop quite close to him, but when he stooped to pick it up, a pork pie which the farmer’s wife had given him mysteriously disappeared; how, he did not know. However, a little way off, he saw a most beautiful damsel carrying a light; he implored her to come to his aid, and as the damsel and the light would not come to him, like Mahomet he went after them. This proved a most bootless errand, for the damsel and light led him on and on, hither and thither, now shining quite close at hand, then disappearing, and at last vanishing altogether, leaving the tailor utterly lost; and for long the poor fellow wandered about, until his cries for help were fortunately heard, ‘bud nut afoor he’d bed aboon tweea hours on ’t.’

That he had been under a fairy charm, and that she (the fairy) had been making sport of him, was evident to all. Never again did that man say he would bottle a fairy—at least, I imagine so. When a sleeve-board, a pair of scissors, and a pork pie are snatched from you, and you see a beautiful damsel carrying a light of some kind, which she snuffs out every time she is going to be caught, only to light up again some yards ahead, and then finally disappear altogether—well! even a tailor can draw his own conclusions after a game of that kind.

The other day I met an old lady in the train—a Mrs. Peary, of Sand Hill Farm, near Picton. Although the old lady told me she was turned seventy-three, she was as active as a woman of forty, and boasted she could do the work of two lasses yet. I soon discovered she possessed a fund of both witch and other lore. Next day I paid a visit to Sand Hill, and had a couple of hours’ chat, or rather, I asked a few leading questions, and then made notes as quickly as I could.

For many years she lived in Bilsdale, her native place. Now, the dale in question is only a few miles distant from the borders of Cleveland, and yet she had never heard of many of the customs so common to that division of the North Riding. ‘Mell suppers,’ she told me, were kept up in Bilsdale in all their pristine glory so lately as twenty years ago—guisers, mell doll, and everything. She did not know the word ‘spurrings,’ meaning putting the banns in. The common expression in her part was, and still is, ‘So-and-so ’ev tumm’l’d ower t’ bauk an’ brokken ther legs.’ I fail to see the application.

Again, though it was the custom for the bridesmaids to undress the bride, and see her comfortably into bed, she never remembered a case of stocking throwing, though she had heard of it, or of any attempt to keep the bridegroom amongst the revellers all night. Running for the bride’s garter was common in her mother’s time, but mostly a ribbon in her own. She had never heard of the custom of letting a child go up before it went down, or that it was unlucky to mention what name the child should be christened before its birth.

I mention these facts because it bears out a previous statement, that it is inadvisable to draw conclusions as to the non-existence of customs or superstitions on evidence of a purely local character.

Although much of what the old lady told me was general throughout the riding, the following was new to me.

For whooping cough I was assured that nothing was better than to walk along a road until you found nine frogs; these had to be carried home and made into soup. The patient on no account must see the frogs, or be told of what the soup was composed—a most wise precaution—but on his or her finishing the whole nine, soup and all, they would be found to be quite recovered. It’s marvellous!

Those who suffered from a weak bladder had a remedy at hand: they simply had to stand astride at the head of an open grave, after the coffin had been lowered, but before being filled in, and then walk backwards to the foot of the same. It seems simple enough, but when you come to look at it, nine people out of ten, in endeavouring to perform the feat, would assuredly have surprised the onlookers by turning a somersault and landing flat on their backs upon the coffin below.

Again, count your warts, then unknown to any one take a small pebble from as many different graves, put the lot in a small bag, throw it over your left shoulder, and the warts will all disappear in a few days. My old friend would not commence or conclude any business on a Friday, and to break a clock-face was equally as unlucky as breaking a looking-glass. Neither did she ever allow a candle to die out; to do such a thing was, to her way of thinking, equal to passing sentence of death on some one of the household. The cutting of the pepper-cake by the doctor, on the birth of each grandchild, is still rigidly adhered to by the old lady. Being farmers, one ceremony they still observed, which was quite new to me. On the birth of a calf it was always carried rear first to the stall in which it was to lie, a little salt and water was given it to drink, and no one ever allowed to stride over it, as that would mean death or ill-luck to it; but generally ’an ower-stridden cauf deed,’ said she[29].

It is a bad sign, when starting on a journey, should the first person you meet be a woman. In such fear was this held until quite recently, that the fishermen near Staithes would not have gone to sea that day; neither was it a good omen for a four-footed animal to cross their path when going to their boat, or at any time.

If whilst a fisherman was baiting his nets any one mentioned anything in connexion with a pig, or Dakky, as it was called, the worst of luck would be looked for, and in many cases the fisherman would have ceased to bait his lines for a time.

Again, no fisherwife would dream of winding wool by candle-light—to do such a wicked thing would be tantamount to winding the husband overboard.

Some years ago a young fisherman paid a visit to some relations inland; during his stay he fell in love with a maiden whom in time he took home as his bride. She, new to their ways and beliefs, simply laughed at their superstitions. It happened one night, when her husband was away on a voyage, that a fisherwife looked in for a bit of friendly gossip, and discovered the young wife by candle-light about to wind some wool. She implored her not to do so, telling her of the dreadful and sure result of such wicked folly; others, too, who had also dropped in, joined in declaring what a fearful and certain risk she ran, but it was all of no avail. With a laugh at such nonsense the winder laid the wool over a chair-back, daring them to wait and watch her wind it; but not a woman would stay in the house—they dare not. They fled, and the wool was wound. Three times did the ball slip from her hand. When the good wives heard of it, they shook their heads—it was a bad omen, so said they. When the husband returned hearty and well from his voyage, the young wife laughed at them more than ever, but they shook their heads. The ball had slipped from her hand thrice; he might go and return again, it was the third journey they feared. When he was told what his wife had done, his face blanched—if she had no fear, he had. He had been taught the belief all his life, she only, in a way, for five minutes. One more voyage would he make, and then the sea should know him no more; he would not, dare not chance a third voyage. Again he returned safely to his wife, but, as he had said, that was his last voyage. The two set up a little shop, and for three or four years all went well. Then there came a great storm. Volunteers were needed for the lifeboat—few able-bodied men were in the village at the time. For the moment everything was forgotten; Jack jumped in, and off they went, the women helping to launch the brave crew. The wrecked ones were saved, but in getting the last half-drowned wretch into the boat, Jack overbalanced and fell into the foaming sea; nothing could save him, and his body was found lying peacefully on the beach next morning. And then they remembered. Aye, and so should we, had we been taught the same belief when round our mother’s knee. The neighbours were kind—they were more than that, they gave to the sorrowing one all their sympathy—but, in spite of their kindness, the widow felt that they held her guilty of her husband’s death. So the little shop was closed, and she went forth from amongst them, and the village knew her no more.

There is a superstition in Cleveland that you must not eat a ’cock’s egg,’ i.e. a small egg, the last one a hen lays before sitting. When such are found, the contents are blown from the shell and burnt—the merest speck of the contents even adhering to the clothes has a baneful influence. The devil is said to superintend the laying of this last egg.

It is considered advisable that a new broom should sweep something into the house before it is used in the contrary direction, otherwise you sweep good luck away from your threshold.

I am told years ago it was considered ’a ventersome thing ti deea’ for any one to speak disparagingly of their broom; the reason given being that no one was ever certain as to whether or no it had been witch-ridden. For should it have happened that a passing witch had one night borrowed their broom for a ride, it became witch-ridden, and was ever afterwards jealously watched over by the witch, and any indignity offered to her steed was sure to be resented.

It is looked upon as a most unwise thing for any one to give salt out of the house. In days past it was supposed to give witches power over the giver. Cases could be mentioned in which the work of the wise man was totally frustrated by such a proceeding.

It is most unlucky to give any one either a knife or any sharp instrument: such folly severs love, and breeds suspicion in the breasts of those who hitherto have held you in sincere regard. You may buy such a present by giving something in return for it, and such payment may be of the most trivial kind—a pin, a bit of paper, or anything.

When you discover your shoe-lace is loose, walk nine paces before tying it, otherwise you will tie ill-luck to you for that day.

Should a mouse run across the room, throw something at it, or, anyway, in the direction in which it ran. It may happen to have escaped from a witch’s cat, and you will please either the cat or the witch, or both, by making some kind of pretence to stop it.

It is lucky, and acts as a charm, if you spit on, or place in your mouth, the first money you receive each day. This is common to-day, but I doubt if those who do so know its origin.

Years ago witches were supposed to watch over or, as my informant put it, ‘eye-spell’ the first money paid, and often used to spirit it away. This they were unable to do after it had been placed in the mouth. It has now degenerated into what is vulgarly called ’spitting on ’t fer luck.’ It is quite commonly done in our markets to-day.

A weasel crossing your path is most unlucky: it speaks of treachery. This evil omen may be counteracted by the performance of a very mean trick: drop a coin on the road where you saw the weasel cross, and the evil which was yours by right, will cling to those who are unlucky enough to find it. If there is a tramp behind you, when you see a coin lying, leave it for him; he won’t mind about the ill-luck.

Always pass an old shoe so as to have it on your right hand; and don’t move it, lest you should help some unknown person on in the world, which would only be done to the detriment of yourself, for just as much as you advanced them, to that extent you would be the loser. An old hat you may kick about as much as you have a mind, always being careful to see some one has not placed a big stone underneath it—in that case it is always unlucky to kick a hat.

When a child was born, and it proved either unhealthy or deformed, it was generally supposed some evil-disposed person must have pricked its name with pins on a pincushion. When such a discovery was made by an expectant wife, nothing was said to the person working the evil, but the cushion was stolen, the pins withdrawn one by one, and stuck into the heart of a calf. This had to be buried in the churchyard, care being taken to bury it sufficiently deep, so that the dogs would not scratch it up. All this had to be done before the child was born, and by the mother. Such a discovery was made, and a heart stuck with pins and buried, within the last twenty years.

Sores or other evil diseases caused by witchcraft could be speedily cured if attended to when the moon was on the wane. I do not know in what form the application was used, but here are the ingredients as given to me by an old fellow who, though he had never used it, had heard ’’at nowt cud cum up tiv it.’

Tak’ tweea ’at’s red an’ yan ’at’s blake (yellow) O’ poison berries three, Three fresh-cull’d blooms o’ Devil’s glut, An’ a sprig o’ rosemary; Tak’ henbane, bullace, bumm’lkite, An’ t’ fluff frev a deead bulrush; Nahn berries shak’ fra t’ rowan-tree, An’ nahn fra botterey bush.

To this day there are fisher lasses who wear their chemises wrong side out when their sailor lads are away at sea, and stormy weather threatens.

A friend of mine within the last five years heard a fisher lass say to a group of her friends, ‘Ah deeant leyke t’ leeak o’ yon cloods, an’ t’ winds gittin up; let’s gan yam an’ to’n wer sarks,’ and every one of those who had a loved one on the water promptly did so.

Again, does a maiden fear that her lover is growing cold, she turns her chemise, so as to win back his cooling affections. This, like most other old beliefs, is dying out now. It is rather an undertaking, as fashion goes, for a lass to undress and dress again nowadays.

... Her Jack war on t’ sea, An’ t’ tuckkins marked her swelling breast, Fer her sark war to’n’d aboot.

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