CHAPTER XII.

Thick with wet woods, and many a beast therein,And none or few to scare or chase the beast;So that wild dog and wolf and boar and bearCame night and day, and rooted in the fields,And wallow'd in the gardens of the king.And ever and anon the wolf would stealThe children and devour, but now and then,Her own brood lost or dead, lent her fierce teatTo human sucklings; and the children, housedIn her foul den, there at their meal would growl,And mock their foster-mother on four feet,Till, straighten'd, they grew up to wolf-like men,Worse than the wolves.

The fatal cuckoo, on yon spreading tree,Hath sounded out your dying knell already.Cowley.

The fatal cuckoo, on yon spreading tree,Hath sounded out your dying knell already.

Cowley.

Amongstthe various lightning birds of the Aryan mythology, some were regarded as portentous of evil; others, as the robin, the stork, and the woodpecker, on the contrary, were regarded with favour, and especially protected. The red breast of the robin, the red legs of the stork, and the red mutch of the woodpecker, were believed to result from their lightning origin. In Germany the robin is held in as much regard as it is in England. The Anglo-Saxon name,Hrodhbeorht, orHrodhbriht, signifies flamebright, which was one of the appellations of Thor. In illustration of the reverence paid to the redbreast, a writer in "Notes and Queries" relates the following beautiful story, which he had from his nurse, a native of Cærmarthenshire:—

"Far, far away, is a land of woe, darkness, spirits of evil, andfire. Day by day does the little bird bear in his bill a drop of water to quench the flame. So near to the burning stream does he fly, that his dear little feathers are scorched; and hence he is namedBronrhuddyn(i.e., breast-burned, or breast-scorched). To serve little children, the robin dares approach the infernal pit. No good child will hurt the devoted benefactor of man. The robin returns from the land of fire, and therefore he feels the cold of winter far more than his brother birds. He shivers in the brumal blast; hungry he chirps before your door. Oh! my child, then, in gratitude throw a few crumbs to poor redbreast."

I have not to this day forgotten the sense of shame and sorrow with which I was overwhelmed, when, as a boy, being permitted for the first time to discharge a fowling-piece at a small bird in a shrubbery, I discovered that the feathered songster whose life I had taken was a robin-redbreast.

The stork is, in Germany especially, ever a welcome guest, and wheels (sun emblems) are placed on the roofs of houses in Hesse, inorder to encourage the storks to build their nests thereupon. Their presence is supposed to render the building safe against the ravages of fire. Mannhardt mentions an instance in which, to avenge the abstraction of her young, it is said a stork carried a flaming brand in her beak, threw it into the nest, and thus set the house on fire. The German name for stork, Grimm says, is literally child or soul-bringer. Hence the belief that the advent of infants is presided over by this bird, which obtains so largely in Denmark and Germany.

Amongst the remains of birds and animals consumed as food by the framers of the Danish "kjökkenmöddings," or shell-mounds, the absence of the bones of the domestic fowl, two species of swallow, the sparrow and the stork, has been commented upon by several archæologists. This is attributable, doubtless, to the sacred character with which they were invested by the inhabitants of the district when the said mounds were formed. For a similar reason, as has been previously observed, no bones of the hare have been found in these ancient "kitchen-middens."

Amongst the birds of evil omen, the owl appears to rank with the foremost. Bourne says, "If an owl, which is reckoned a most abominable and unlucky bird, send forth its hoarse and dismal voice, it is an omen of the approach of some terrible thing; that some dire calamity and some great misfortune is near at hand." Chaucer speaks of the "owl eke that of deth the bode bringeth." Amongst the Romans its appearance was regarded as a most certain portent of death. In the year 312, on the day on which Constantine saw the vision of the cross in the heavens, with the legend "In hoc signo vinces," Zosimus, the pagan historian, informs us that his opponent, Maxentius, was disconcerted by the adverse portent of a flight of owls. Speaking of the prodigies which were said to accompany the passing away of Augustus Cæsar, Xiphilinus says that an "owl sung on the top of the Curia." Our Elizabethan and later poets often refer to this superstition. In one of Reed's old plays we have:—

When screech owls croak upon the chimney tops,It's certain then you of a corse shall hear.

Spencer speaks of "the ill-fac'd owl, death's dreadful messenger," and Pennant, when describing what is called the tawny owl, says, "this is what we call the screech owl, to which the folly of superstition had given the power of presaging death by its cries." Shakspere makes Lennox say, on the night of the murder of Duncan, that—

The obscure birdClamoured the live-long night.

Puck, in Midsummer Night's Dream, says,—

Now the hungry lion roars,And the wolf be-howls the moon;Whilst the heavy ploughman snores,All with weary task fordone.Now the wanted brands do glow,Whilst the scritch-owl, scritching loud,Puts the wretch, that lies in woe,In remembrance of a shroud.

Referring to the advent of the Duke of Gloucester, afterwards King Richard III., King Henry says:—

The owl shriek'd at thy birth; an evil sign!The night crow cry'd, aboding luckless time;Dogs howled, and hideous tempests shook down trees.

And again, in Julius Cæsar, on the night of the murder of the great dictator, Casca, amongst the numerous other prodigies which he witnessed says:—

And yesterday the bird of night did sit,Even at noon-day, upon the market place,Hooting and shrieking.

The rejoinder put into the mouth of Cicero, shows that Shakspere, while he appreciated the dramatic value of the "folk-lore" of superstitious people like the terrified Casca, was fully alive to the folly of the popular interpretation of the phenomena referred to. He says:

Indeed, it is a strange-dispos'd time;But men may construe things after their fashionClean from the purpose of the things themselves.

This is still more markedly indicated in the dialogue between Hotspur and Owen Glendower, in the first part of King Henry IV.:—

Glendower:At my nativityThe front of heaven was full of fiery shapes,Of burning cressets; and at my birthThe frame and huge foundation of the earthShaked like a coward.Hotspur: Why, so it would have doneAt the same season, if your mother's catHad but kittened, though yourself had ne'er been born.Glendower: I say the earth did shake when I was born.Hotspur: And I say the earth was not of my mind,If you suppose as fearing you it shook.Glendower: The heavens were all on fire, the earth did tremble.Hotspur: O, then the earth shook to see the heavens on fire,And not in fear of your nativity.Diseased nature often times breaks forthIn strange eruptions: oft the teeming earthIs with a kind of cholic pinched and vexed,By the imprisoning of unruly windWithin her womb; which for enlargement striving,Shakes the old beldam earth, and topples downSteeples and moss-grown towers.

Glendower:At my nativityThe front of heaven was full of fiery shapes,Of burning cressets; and at my birthThe frame and huge foundation of the earthShaked like a coward.

Hotspur: Why, so it would have doneAt the same season, if your mother's catHad but kittened, though yourself had ne'er been born.

Glendower: I say the earth did shake when I was born.

Hotspur: And I say the earth was not of my mind,If you suppose as fearing you it shook.

Glendower: The heavens were all on fire, the earth did tremble.

Hotspur: O, then the earth shook to see the heavens on fire,And not in fear of your nativity.Diseased nature often times breaks forthIn strange eruptions: oft the teeming earthIs with a kind of cholic pinched and vexed,By the imprisoning of unruly windWithin her womb; which for enlargement striving,Shakes the old beldam earth, and topples downSteeples and moss-grown towers.

In the Greek mythology the owl was the symbol of Athenê. Hence, as before observed, she was styled "Glaucopis," or owl-eyed. According to Payne Knight, this symbol was adopted for the wise goddess because the owl was "a bird which seems to surpass all other creatures in acuteness of organic perception, its eye being calculated to observe objects which to all others are enveloped in darkness, its ear to hear sounds distinctly, and its nostrils to discriminate effluvia with such nicety that it has been deemed prophetic, from discovering the putridity of death even in the first stages of disease." As in the case of the dog, referred to in Chapter IX., it is by no means improbable that the extremely delicate sense of smell possessed by the owl, lies at the root of this superstition. Its after development into a prophetic power respecting approaching death, even without previous disease, can easily be understood, after the original physical conditions had entered into the mythical realm of legend and superstition.

The cuckoo is generally regarded, like the owl and the raven, as a bird of ill omen. According to Mannhardt, on first hearing its note, the German peasant rolls himself on the grass, as he does when he hears thunder. The observance of this ceremony is supposed to insure to the individual freedom from aches and pains during the year. It is considered to be unlucky to hear the cuckoo for the first time without coin in the pocket. The more fortunate peasants yet instinctively turn over their money to insure "luck" on first hearing this bird's cry.

The old English rhyme is well known in Lancashire:—

Cuckoo, cherry tree,Good bird tell me,How many years have I to live.

In some places there is a triple rhyme, the last line reading thus:

How many years before I dee? (die).

I remember well indulging in my youth, with other boys, in the divination described by Sir Henry Ellis, as follows:—"Easy to foretel what sort of summer it would be by the position in which the larva ofCicàda (Aphrophora) spumariawas found to lie in the froth (cuckoo-spit) in which it is enveloped. If the insect lay with its head upwards, it infallibly denoted a dry summer; if downwards, a wet one." The said spume was fully believed to have been deposited upon the vegetation by the expectoration of the cuckoo.

Cuckoos are believed to become sparrowhawks in winter. The Rev. H. B. Fristram, at a recent meeting of the British Association, held at Newcastle-on-Tyne, stated when he once remonstrated with a man for shooting a cuckoo, "the defence was that it was well known thatsparrowhawkes turned into cuckoosin the summer." Grimm states that in Germany, after St. John's day, about the time when it becomes mute, the cuckoo is believed to change into a hawk. Referring to these facts, Kelly pertinently asks, as "the form of the cuckoo remotely resembles that of the falcon tribe, may we hazard a conjecture that hence, in German tradition, that bird in some degree represents the fire-bringing falcon of the Aryans?" Mannhardt says, "The cuckoo is the messenger of Thor, the god in whose gift were health and strength, length of days, and marriage blessings, and therefore it is that people call upon the bird to tell how long they have to live, how soon they will be married, and how many children they shall have; and that in Schaumberg the person who acts at a wedding as master of the ceremonies carries a cuckoo on his staff."

Kelly says:—"The cuckoo's connection with storms and tempests is not clearly determined, but the owl's is indisputable. Its cry is believed in England to foretell rain and hail, the latter of which is usually accompanied with lightning, and the practice of nailing it to the barn door, to avert the lightning, is common throughout Europe, and is mentioned by Palladius in his treatise on agriculture."

The wren, as I have shown in a previous chapter, is mercilessly hunted to death in the Isle of Man, although he partakes of the sanctity of the robin in most parts of England. Not so in Ireland, however. General Vallancy says:—"The Druids represented this as the king of all birds. The superstitious respect shown to this little bird gave offence to our first Christian missionaries, and by their commands he is still hunted and killed on Christmas-day; and on the following (St. Stephen's-day) he is carried about hung by the leg in the centre of two hoops crossing each other at right angles, and a procession is made in every village, of men, women, and children, singing an Irish catch importing him to be the king of all birds."

The wren is sometimes treated in a similar manner in the south of France. It is generally, however, regarded as a sacred bird, as in England and Scotland. To take its life or to rob its nest even, in the Pays de Caux, is regarded as a crime of such atrocity that it will "bring down the lightning" upon the homestead of the offender. Robert Chambers, in his "Popular Rhymes," has the following couplet on this subject:—

Malisons, malisons, mair than ten,That harry the Ladye of Heaven's hen!

It would seem from these facts that the poor little bird has met with a somewhat similar fate to that of Odin and the rest of the Æsir gods, and has been transformed, occasionally at least, into a spirit of evil.

In Perigord, according to De Nore, the swallow is called "La Poule de Dieu" and is regarded as "the messenger of life." The cricket, too, is held in similar estimation. May not the latter have acquired its reputation from its fondness of the domestic hearth, and its presumed immunity from the effects of fire?

The raven, sacred to Odin and Apollo, the German and Greek forms of the Aryan Rudra, was, and indeed is yet, pre-eminently the bird of ill-omen. Lady Macbeth, in the fulness of her murderous impulse, exclaims:—

The raven himself is hoarseThat croaks the fatal entrance of DuncanUnder my battlement.

And Hamlet, impatient at the grimaces of the actor, representing, in the play, the murderer of his father, exclaims:—

Leave thy damnable faces and begin. Come—The croaking ravenDoth bellow for revenge.

And, again, Othello says:—

Oh, it comes o'er my memoryAs doth the raven o'er the infected house,Boding to all.

All know what powerful use Edgar Allan Poe has made of this "grim, ungainly, ghastly, gaunt, and ominous bird of yore," in his marvellous poem, "The Raven."

The raven's power of scenting carrion from a great distance may have originally influenced, as in the case of the dog and owl, its selection as a personification of impending death or other calamity.

The raven was the standard of the Scandinavian vikingrs, as the eagle was of the Ancient Romans, and is of the French of the present day. Asser, in his "Life of Alfred the Great," when describing a victory gained by that king near Kynwith Castle says: "they gained a very large booty, and among other things the standard called Raven; for they say that the three sisters of Hindwai and Hubba, daughters of Lodobroch, wove that flag and got it ready in one day. They say, moreover, that in every battle, wherever that flag went before them, if they were to gain the victory, a live crow wouldappear flying in the middle of the flag; but if they were doomed to be defeated it would hang down motionless, and this was often proved to be so." Doubtless much of the still lingering aversion for crows, ravens, and magpies, is but the remains of the dislike of our Anglo-Saxon ancestors to the emblem of their once dreaded mortal enemies, or it is, perhaps, more probable that each people had preserved a similar traditionary faith in the supernatural character of the bird from their common remote ancestors. Indeed, reference is made to the raven as a war emblem in the fragment of heroic Anglo-Saxon poetry, containing part of a description of the battle at Finnesburg, which was found on the cover of a MS. of homilies, in the library at Lambeth Palace, by Dr. Hicks, in the sixteenth century. On the defeat of the warriors, the MS. says,—"The raven wandered, swart and sallow brown." There is, as I have previously observed, in Chapter IX., a tradition in Cornwall that King Arthur is yet alive in the form of a raven, and superstitious persons yet refuse to kill the bird from a belief in its truth.

Many other birds possess somewhat similar attributes to the raven, such as crows, magpies, jackdaws, &c. Ramesey (Elminthologia, 1668) says:—"If a crow fly but over the house and croak thrice, how do they fear, they, or some one else in the family, shall die." The croaking of crows and ravens foreboded rain. In this particular they resembled the woodpecker. It was, nay, it is yet held that to see a crow on the left hand is a sinister omen. In the "Defensative against the Poyson of supposed Prophesies," by the Earl of Northampton, published in 1583, we find the following:—"The flight of many crowes upon the left side of the campe made the Romans very much afrayde of some badde lucke; as if the greate god Jupiter had nothing else to do (said Carneades) but to drive jack-dawes in a flock together."

The evil boding of the "seven whistlers," or flock of plovers, in Lancashire, has been previously referred to. In Lancashire and the north of England magpies are termed pyanots. The old formula, which attributes certain results as the consequence of their appearance, is still firmly believed in, viz.:—"One for sorrow, two for mirth, three for a wedding and four for death." Intelligent persons, yet, from mere habit, on the sight of a magpie, involuntary turn round three times, or mark a cross with the toe on the ground, in order to avert the calamity supposed to be attendant upon its untoward presence. The original name, when fully expressed, appears to have been maggott pie. Shaksperementions it under this designation, when, in Macbeth, he refers to its use in divination. He says:—

Augurs and understood relations haveBy maggot pies, and choughs, and rooks, brought forthThe secret'st man of blood.

The woodpecker, perhaps, of all the fire-bringing birds, has most permeated the ancient mythologies. The Latins named it Picus, whose brother (or double), Pilumnus, was the god of bakers and millers. In early times the millers pounded their corn with a pestle, andpilumsignified both pestle and javelin, which are equally types of the thunderbolt. The tapping of the beak of the woodpecker was regarded as partaking of a similar character. On the birth of a child it was customary at Rome to prepare a couch for Pilumnus and Picumnus, who were believed to bring the fire of life, and were supposed to remain until the vitality of the infant was indisputable. The Romans likewise styled the woodpecker Martus and Feronius, from the god Mars and the Sabine goddess Feronia. The name Feronia is indicative of fire or soul bringing, and is intimately connected with that of Phoroneus, the Prometheus of a Peloponnesian legend, relating to the original procuration of the heavenly fire. Dr. Kuhn says both names are identical with the epithet commonly applied to the Aryan fire-god Agni,Churanyu, which signifies "one who pounces down, or bears down rapidly."

Picus was the son of Saturn, and the first King of Latium, as well as a fire-bringing bird. This, Kelly observes, "is only another way of saying that he, too, like Manu, Minyas, Minos, Phoroneus, and other fire-bringers, is the first man; and therefore it is that, under the name of Picumnus, he continued in latter times to be the guardian genius of children, along with his brother Pilumnus."

A remarkable coincidence between the Anglo-Saxon pedigree of Odin, which makes Beav, or Beovolf, one of his ancestors, and the story of the first King of Latium, is noticed by Grimm. Beewolf—that is, bee-eater—is the German name for the woodpecker.

Many other birds were believed to forecast the weather, such as the barn door fowl, the stormy petrel, the heron, and the crane, all of which appear but to be modifications of the Aryan lightning birds so often referred to. In the Greek version of the myth, the raven represents the dark cloud. Originally, however, the cloud referred to was white; but Apollo, having sent his favourite bird to the fountain for water, was imposed upon by the feathered idler and glutton; he, therefore, turned his plumage black, and condemned him as apunishment to a continuous croaking for water to quench his thirst.

Amongst insects, the lady-bird appears to have been a fire-bringer, and is yet much in vogue in matters of augury. Gay says:—

This lady-fly I take from off the grass,Whose spotted back might scarlet red surpass.Fly lady-bird, north, south, or east or west,Fly where the man is found that I love best.

I know not whether the dandelion can be classed among the lightning plants, but I remember well the blowing away of its ripened winged seeds with the view to ascertain the time of the day, as well as to solve much more profound mysteries.

In the "Athenian Oracle" the following curious rejoinder appears to the query:—"Why rats, toads, ravens, screech owls, are ominous; and how they came to foreknow fatal events?" The writer replies: "Had the querist said unlucky instead of ominous he might easily have met with satisfaction; a rat is so because it destroys many a Cheshire cheese, &c. A toad is unlucky because it poisons." [This is now known to be erroneous.] "As for ravens and screech owls, they are just as unlucky as cats, when about their courtship, because they make an ugly noise, which disturbes their neighbourhood. The instinct of rats leaving an old ship is because they cannot be dry in it, and an old house because, perhaps, they want victuals. A raven is much such a prophet as our conjurors or almanac makers, foretelling events after they are come to pass: they follow great armies, as vultures, not as foreboding battle, but for the dead men, dogs, horses, &c., which, especially in a march, must be daily left behind them. But the foolish observations made on their croaking before death, etc., are for the most part pure humour, and have no grounds besides foolish tradition or a sickly imagination." Old Reginald Scot, as early as the sixteenth century, stoutly contended "that to prognosticate that guests approach to your house on the chattering of pies or haggisters, [a Kentish term for magpie,] is altogether vanity and superstition."

TheShipping Gazette, in April, 1869, contained a communication entitled "A Sailor's Notion about Rats," in which the following passage occurs:—"It is a well authenticated fact that rats have often been known to leave ships in the harbour previous to their being lost at sea. Some of those wiseacres who want to convince usagainst the evidence of our senseswill call this superstition. As neither I have time, nor you space, to cavil with such at present, I shall leave them alone in their glory." It is difficult to decide whether the superstition,the bad logic, or the self-sufficiency of the writer of this sentence most predominates. It is a pity he did not edify the "wiseacres" as to how "the evidence of our senses" could by any possibility bring us in contact with the motive of rats, with whom we have had no intercourse either of a mental or moral kind. But perhaps the said "Shipmaster" has, after taking rats into his council, rejected their advice, and lost his bark in consequence. Truly it is a difficult matter to determine where abject superstition ends and ordinary credulity begins. The fact that rats do sometimes migrate from one ship to another, or from one barn or corn stack to another, from various causes, ought to be quite sufficient to explain such "evidence of our senses" as informs us that "rats have often been known to leave ships in harbourpreviousto their being lost at sea." If they left the ship at allin harbour, it, of necessity must have beenbeforethe vessel was lost at sea. The error lies in the assertion, without the slightest "evidence of our senses" to support it, that sailor rats are genuine Zadkiels, and can peep into futurity by the aid of some supernatural power denied to mariners of the genushomo.

This superstition, nevertheless, is evidently one of considerable antiquity. Shakspere refers to it in the Tempest. Prospero, describing the vessel in which himself and daughter had been placed with the view to their certain destruction at sea says:—

They hurried us aboard a bark;Bore us some leagues to sea; where they preparedA rotten carcase of a boat, not rigged,Nor tackle, sail, nor mast; the very ratsInstinctively had quit it.

Some sorcerers do boast they have a rodGather'd with vowes and sacrifice,And (borne about) will strangely nodTo hidden treasure, where it lies;Mankindis (sure) that rod divine,For to thewealthiest ever they incline!S. Sheppard, 1651.

S. Sheppard, 1651.

Faithin the power of the "wish" or "divining rod" is by no means extinct in the North of England. In modern times it is chiefly believed to be potent in the detection of metallic veins, hidden treasure, or subterranean springs of water. Our ancestors, however, held that this mystic instrument was endowed with the faculty of bringing "luck" or good fortune to its possessor, and of causing his slightest wish or desire to receive fulfilment. I have a faint recollection of a story relative to the use of the divining rod, with the view to ascertain the locality of the "buried treasure," since discovered, in the valley of the Ribble, near Preston, and now known as the celebrated "Cuerdale hoard." This treasure, in all human probability, was consigned to the earth immediately after the famous battle of Brunanburh, in the earlier portion of the tenth century. Although it remained undisturbed about nine hundred years, a tradition survived, which asserted that the place of the deposit could be seen from the promontory overlooking the valley on which Walton, or "Law," Church is situated. The late Mr. B. F. Allen, of Preston, remembered a farmer ploughing deeply the whole of an extensive field in the neighbourhood, in the hope of discovering the long-lost treasure, some professor of the art of divination by the "wish-rod" having pronounced in favour of the probability of a successful result. Singularly enough, even after the accidental discovery of the treasure chest of the days of Athelstan, the country people of the neighbourhood still nursed the memory of the tradition with great fondness, firmly believing that the "find" referred to was but a foretaste of what was to come. I was forcibly struck with the tenacity of thisspecies of tradition, when engaged digging on the site of the Roman station at the junction of the Darwen and the Ribble, in 1855. The turning up of a few scattered brass coins of the higher empire, led to a rumour that we had come upon "th' buried goud" at last, and caused us some inconvenience. The Cuerdale hoard, it must be remembered, consisted entirely of coins, marks, and bracelets and other ornamentsin silver. Mr. Martland, who farmed the land at the time, told me some curious stories respecting this mound at Walton-le-Dale, which would indicate that treasure-seekers had been more than once practising their vocation in the neighbourhood. Some thirteen or fourteen years previously, a hole nine or ten feet long was dug in one night by some unknown persons. A silver coin (most probably Roman) was found on the filling up of the trench. Mr. Martland likewise remembered hearing of a somewhat similar hole having been excavated between forty or fifty years previously, under equally mysterious circumstances, and not far from the same spot. The locality was watched every evening for a fortnight, before the hole was filled up, with the view to ascertain whether the midnight excavators would resume their labours. Nothing was discovered which either identified the parties or explained their object. The general impression, however, was that they were treasure hunters, and that they had acted under some magical or supernatural direction.

In a manuscript of the early part of the seventeenth century, by John Bell, the necessary formulæ for the procuration and preparation of the divining rod are thus described:—

"When you find in the wood or elsewhere, on old walls or on high hills or rocks, a rowan which has grown out of a berry let fall from a bird's bill, you must go at twilight in the evening of the third day after our Lady's day, and either uproot or break off the said rod or tree; but you must take care that neither iron or steel come nigh it, and that it do not fall to the ground on the way home. Then place the rod under the roof, at a spot under which you have laid sundry metals, and in a short time you will see with astonishment how the rod gradually bends under the roof towards the metals. When the rod has remained fourteen days or more in the same place, you take a knife or an awl which has been stroked with a magnet, and previously stuck through a great Frögroda (?), slit the bark on all sides, and pour or drop in cock's blood, especially such as is drawn from the comb of a cock of one colour; and when this blood has dried the rod is ready, and gives manifest proof of the efficacy of its wondrous nature."

The same writer referring to the subject of rabdomanteia or rod divination, relates the following, on the authority of Theophylact:—"They set up two staffs, and having whispered some verses and incantations, the staffs fell by the operations of dæmons. Then they considered which way each of them fell, forward or backward, to the right or left hand, and agreeably gave responses, having made use of the fall of their staffs for their signs."

This superstition appears to have been very prevalent in the earliest times. The divination of the Chaldeans has passed into a proverb. Ezekiel refers to it, and Hosea denounces the Jews for their faith in such heathen ceremonies. He exclaims—"My people ask counsel at their stocks, andtheir staffdeclareth unto them." It was practised by the Alani, according to Herodotus, and we have the authority of Tacitus for the estimation in which it was held by the ancient Germanic tribes.

Sir Henry Ellis refers to an effort by miners to discover a metallic lode, by means of the divining rod, as recently as 1842. He thus describes the experiment:—"The method of procedure was to cut the twig of a hazel or an apple tree, of twelvemonths' growth, into a forked shape, and to hold this by both hands in a peculiar way, walking across the land until the twig bent, which was taken as an indication of the locality of a lode. The person who generally practices this divination boasts himself to be the seventh son of a seventh son. The twig of hazel bends in his hands to the conviction of the miners that ore is present; but then the peculiar manner in which the twig is held, bringing muscular action to bear upon it, accounts for its gradual deflection, and the circumstance of the strata walked over always containing ore, gives a further credit to the process of divination."

The following curious anecdote, referring to this subject, appears in theGentleman's Magazinefor 1752:—"M. Linnæus, when he was upon his voyage to Scania, hearing his secretary highly extol the virtues of his divining wand, was willing to convince him of its insufficiency, and for that purpose concealed a purse of one hundred ducats under a ranunculus which grew by itself in a meadow, and bid the secretary find it if he could. The wand discovered nothing, and M. Linnæus's mark was soon trampled down by the company who were present; so that when M. Linnæus went to finish the experiment by fetching the gold himself, he was utterly at a loss where to seek it. The man with the wand assisted him, and pronounced it could not lie the way they were going, but quite the contrary, so pursued the direction of his wand, and actually dug out the gold. M. Linnæusadds that such another experiment would be sufficient to make a proselyte of him." Lilly relates an effort of his to discover hidden treasure by the divining rod. He, however, frankly confesses that he failed in his object.

The divining rod in form resembled the letter Y, and, independently of its other magical qualities, owed some of its supposed power to its form and the number of its limbs. The peculiar and regular equiangular form of the branches of the mistletoe, doubtless, had much influence in its selection as a mystical plant endowed with supernatural properties. The number three, and its multiple nine, together with the mystic Abracadabra, the double triangle of the Gnostics, have been regarded from the most remote ages as of mystical import. The association of the "seventh son of a seventh son" (another mystic number) with the procedure, is likewise indicative of a mathematical element at the root of this superstition.

Mr. Gladstone, in his "Juventus Mundi," says,—"With respect to the Trident" (of Poseidon or Neptune), "an instrument so unsuited to water, it appears evidently to point to some tradition of a Trinity, such as may still be found in various forms of Eastern religion, other than the Hebrew. It may have proceeded, among the Phœnicians, from the common source of an older tradition; and this seems more probable than its direct derivation from the Hebrews, with whom, however, we know that the Phœnicians had intercourse."

The horseshoe, which is so frequently seen nailed to stable and shippon doors, as a charm against the machinations of witches, is said to owe its virtue chiefly to its shape. Any other object presenting two points or forks, even the spreading out of the two fore-fingers, is said to possess similar occult power, though not in so high a degree as the rowan wish-rod. In Spain and Italy forked pieces of coral are in high repute as witch scarers. A crescent formed of two boar's tusks is frequently appended to the necks of mules, to protect the animals from witchcraft. The boar's tusk I have previously shown to be an Aryan lightning emblem.

Kelly is of opinion that the mandrake, on account of its form and supposed lightning origin, possessed, in common with the wish-rod, the power of conferring good fortune on its possessor. The root of the mandrake is believed to bear some resemblance to a human being, and appears to have been used in England by sorcerers as an image of the victim operated upon, as well as figures made of clay or wax. In his "Art of Simpling," Coles says that witches "take likewise the roots of the mandrake, according to some, or, as I rather suppose,the roots of briony, which simple folke take for the true mandrake, and make thereof an ugly image, by which they represent the person on whom they intend to exercise their witchcraft." He adds—"Some plants have roots with a number of threads, like beards, as mandrakes, whereof witches and imposters make an ugly image, giving it the form of a face at the top of the root, and leave those strings to make a broad beard down to the feet." Dr. Kuhn and others are of opinion that the form of the wish-rod originated in a somewhat similar idea; or rather that the two superstitions had, in this respect, a common origin. It appears that these rods are yet dressed like dolls in some parts of Germany, and that they are occasionally attached to the body of a child about to be christened. Schönwerth informs us that in the Oberpfalz the newly-cut wish-rod is formally baptised, and the sign of the cross made over it three times by the operator. Kelly adds—"This is not all. In every instance the divining or wish-rod has a forked end. This is an essential point, as all authorities agree in declaring. Now a forked rod (or a 'forked raddish') is the simplest possible image of the human figure."

The English mandrake, used by witches and treasure hunters, is, as Coles observes, thebriony, the veritableatropa mandragoranot being found in the northern portion of the continent of Europe. It flourishes luxuriantly in the Grecian islands. Mr. John Ingram, in his "Flora Symbolica," says the mandragora is "the emblem ofrarity." He adds,—"Amongst the Oriental races the mandrake, probably on account of its fœtid odour and venomous properties, is regarded with intense abhorrence; the Arabs, Richardson says, call it 'the devil's candle,' because of its shiny appearance in the night; a circumstance thus alluded to by Moore in his 'Lalla Rookh':—

Such rank and deadly lustre dwells,As in those hellish fires that lightThe mandrake's charmed leaves at night.

"There is an old, deeply-rooted superstition connected with this ominous plant, which we have reason to believe is not yet altogether eradicated from the minds of the uneducated, that the mandrake grows up under the gallows, being nourished by the exhalations from executed criminals; and that when it is pulled out of the ground it utters lamentable cries, as if possessed of sensibility:

The phantom shapes—oh, touch them not—That appal the murderer's sight,Lurk in the fleshy mandrake's stem,That shrieks when pluck'd at night.

So says Moore in verse, only repeating what many have said gravely in prose.

"Another terrible quality imputed to this wretched plant was that the person pulling it out of the ground would be seriously injured by its pestilential effects, some even averring that death speedily resulted from them; in order therefore to guard against this danger, the surrounding soil was removed, and the plant fastened securely to a dog, so that when the animal was driven away he drew up the root, and paid the penalty of the deed."

Dr. Kuhn contends that this human form was given to the mandrake and the wish-rod because both were believed to be of divine or supernatural origin, and represented a species of demi-god, of the lightning tribe. Kelly contends that "a comparison with ancient Hindoo usages fully confirms the truth of this conclusion. The human form is expressly attributed in the Rig Veda and other Sanscrit books to the pieces of asvattha wood used for kindling sacred fire—so many inches for the head and neck, so many for the upper and lower parts of the trunk, the thighs and legs respectively—and the operator is warned to be very careful where he churns, for perdition will issue from most parts of the arani, whereas he who churns in the right spot will obtain fruition of all his wishes; he will gain wealth, cattle, sons, heaven, long life, love, and good fortune. Evidently the tabular part or block of the chark is equivalent to the wish-rod, and the reason of this is that they are both embodiments of the lightning."

Doubtless, as has been contended by Dr. Kuhn and many others, the caduceus or rod of Hermes may be referred to a similar origin; that it is, in fact, but the Greek development of the original Aryan myth. The wands of conjurers, the batons of military commanders, and even the sceptres of monarchs, together with Neptune's trident and Jove's thundering implement, may without extravagance be assigned to a similar origin.

The divining rod was made either of hazel, the rowan or mountain ash, or some other of the European representatives of either the palasa tree, or the "imperialmimosaof the East." The story of the origin of these trees, as related in the Veda, is somewhat curious. It exhibits the root of the superstitious reverence, so common amongst all the Aryan tribes, in which certain trees and plants are held, and of the belief in their medical and magical properties. It appears that the demons had stolen the heavenly soma, or drink of the gods, and cellared it in some mythical rock or cloud. The falcon (a lightningbird) undertook to restore to the thirsty deities their much prized liquor. The feathered hero triumphed, but he gained his honours at the expense of a claw and a plume, of which an arrow from one of "the enemy" deprived him during his retreat. Both fell to the earth and took root. From the feather sprung the parna or palasa tree, which possessed red sap and bore scarlet blossoms. From the claw a species of thorn was developed. This Dr. Kuhn contends is theMimosa catechu, or the "imperialmimosa" referred to. The falcon being regarded as a lightning-god, the plants and trees sprung from him were supposed to possess largely the divine attributes of their progenitor. The Aryan tribes, on migrating into distant lands, found, of course, that the botanical characteristics of their new homes differed from those pertaining to that they had left. They, therefore, selected what, to them, appeared the nearest representatives of theparnaand themimosa, and endowed them with their supernatural properties. Amongst the most reverenced in Europe were the fern, which appears to be but a modern form of the wordparna; the mountain ash, or rowan; the hazel, and the black and white thorn, and the springwort or St. John's-wort. Kelly says:—"Among the many English names of the mountain ash are witchen tree, witch elm, witch hazel, witch wood; quicken tree, quick beam (quick—alive,beam, Germanbaum—tree); roan tree, roun tree, rowan. These last three synonyms are from the Norse tongues, and denote, as Grimm conjectures, the runic or mysterious and magic character of the tree."

Several peculiarities of the mountain ash correspond with others which characterise the Hindoo palasa. Both bear red berries, and their leaves are profusely luxuriant. These characteristics are supposed to correspond to the blood shed by the falcon and the form of his lost feather. The spikes of the thorn, by a similar process of reasoning, are identified with the claw detached by the arrow of the pursuing demon.

The late Bishop Heber, referring to the mimosa of India, relates facts which clearly identify some of the superstitions of the East with others in Britain. He appears likewise to have anticipated that time would disclose their common origin. He says:—"Near Boitpoor, in Upper India, I passed a fine tree of the mimosa genus, with leaves, at a little distance, so much resembling those of the mountain ash, that I was for a moment deceived, and asked if it did not bring fruit. They answered no; but that it was a very noble tree, being called the imperial tree, for its excellent properties; that it slept all night, and awakened and was alive all day, withdrawing its leaves ifanyone attempted to touch them. Above all, however, it was useful as a preservative against magic. A sprig worn in the turban, or suspended over the bed, was a perfect security against all spells, evil eye, etc.; inasmuch as the most formidable wizard would not, if he could help it, approach its shade. One indeed, they said, who was very renowned for his power, (like Lorinite, in the Kehama,) of killing plants and drying up their sap with a look, had come to this very tree and gazed on it intently; but, said the old man, who told me this with an air of triumph, look as he might, he could do the tree no harm. I was amazed and surprised to find the superstition which in England and Scotland attaches to the rowan tree here applied to a tree of nearly similar form. What nation has in this been the imitator?Or from what common centre are these common notions derived?"

M. Du Chaillu, in his second journey to Western Equatorial Africa, found a similar superstitious reverence for certain trees amongst the negro inhabitants. He says:—"At an Ishogo village named Diamba, which we passed about two o'clock, I saw two heads of the gorilla (male and female) stuck on two poles placed under the village tree in the middle of the street. In explanation of this I may mention here that in almost every Ishogo and Ashango village which I visited there was a large tree standing about the middle of the main street, and near the mbuiti or idol-house of the village. The tree is a kind of Ficus, with large, thick, and glossy leaves. It is planted a sapling when the village is first built, and is considered to bring good luck to the inhabitants as a talisman. If the sapling lives, the villagers consider the omen a good one; but if it dies, they all abandon the place and found a new village elsewhere. This tree grows rapidly, and soon forms a conspicuous object, with its broad crown yielding a pleasant shade in the middle of the street. Fetiches, similar to those I have described in the account of Rabolo's village, on the Fernand Vaz, are buried at the foot of the tree; and the gorillas' heads on poles at Diamba were no doubt placed there as some sort of fetich. The tree, of course, is held sacred. An additional charm is lent to these village trees by the great number of little social birds (Sycobius, three species) which resort to them to build their nests amongst the foliage. These charming little birds love the society of man as well as that of their own species. They associate in these trees, sometimes in incredible quantities, and the noise they make with their chirping, chatting, and fuss in building their nests and feeding their young is often greater even than that made by the negroes of the village."

TheCaledonian Mercury, a very few years ago, published the following paragraph, which clearly demonstrates that the superstitious reverence for the mountain ash still exists in a most unmistakable manner in North Britain:—

"Superstition in Strathearn.—It is not many years ago since two women were seen pulling the tether in a field a few miles from Crieff, with what object everyone knows. Even more recently a Crieff merchant, who had adopted the motto 'Pay to-day and trust to-morrow,' had a piece of rowan tree suspended over his doorway, and after his death a bit of the same wood was found in each of his pockets as a preventive against the power of witches. At this moment an honest farmer in a neighbouring parish has a branch of the rowan tree above his byres, and it is said that every stranger who enters his gates passes under this magic wood."

The author of "Sylvan Sketches," (1825), informs us, on the authority of Lightfoot, that "in the Highlands of Scotland, at the birth of an infant, the nurse takes a green stick of ash, one end of which she puts into the fire, and while it is burning receives in a spoon the sap that oozes from the other, which she administers to the child as its first food." The infant Zeus, of the Greeks, was first fed by the Melian nymphs with honey "the fruit of the ash," and with goat's milk. Kelly says:—

"There was a positive, as well as a mythic, reason why the Greeks should give the ash a name signifying sweetness, because theFraxinus ornus, a species of ash indigenous in the south of Europe, yields manna from its slit bark. They may also have conceived that honey dropped upon the earth as dew from the heavenly ash, for Theophrastus mentions a kind of honey which fell in that form from the air, and which was therefore calledaeromelia."

Weber and Dr. Kuhn refer to a passage in one of the sacred books of the Hindoos, in which an analogous practice is referred to. It reads, "The father puts his mouth to the right ear of the new-born babe, and murmurs three times, 'Speech! speech!' Then he gives it a name, 'Thou art Veda;' that is its secret name. Then he mixes clotted milk, honey, and butter, and feeds the babe with it out of pure gold." Referring to this subject, Kelly exclaims:—

"Amazing toughness of popular tradition! Some thousands of years ago the ancestors of this Highland nurse had known theFraxinus ornusin Arya, or on their long journey through Persia, Asia Minor, and the south of Europe, and they had given its honey-like juice as divine food to their children; and now their descendant,imitating their practice in the cold North, but totally ignorant of its true meaning, puts the nauseous sap of her native ash into the mouth of her hapless charge, because her mother, and her grandmother, and her grandmother's mother had done the same thing before her. 'The reason,' we are told by a modern native authority, 'for giving ash-sap to new-born children in the Highlands of Scotland, is, first, because it acts as a powerful astringent; and secondly, because the ash, in common with the rowan, is supposed to possess the property of resisting the attacks of witches, fairies, and other imps of darkness.'" Mr. Kelly regards the astringent argument as evidently not the reason why the practice was first adopted, but an excuse, and a bad one, for its continuance. In many places mothers yet pass their infants through split ash trees in the belief that it will cure them of, or protect them from, the rickets or rupture.

Brand regards the Christian pastoral crook, as well as the "lituus or staff with the crook at one end, which the augurs of old carried as badges of their profession, and instruments in the superstitious exercise of it," as originally intimately connected with the divining rod. He refers to Hogarth's "Analysis of Beauty," in which the great satirical artist gives an engraving of what he terms a "lusus naturæ," which represents a "very elegant" branch of the ash tree. Brand seems to endorse Mr. Gostling's opinion, as expressed in the "Antiquarian Repertory," who says, "I should rather style it a distemper or distortion of nature; for it seems the effect of a wound by some insect, which, piercing to the heart of the plant with its proboscis, poisons that, while the bark remains uninjured and proceeds in its growth, but formed into various stripes, flatness, and curves, for want of the support which nature designed it. The beauty some of these arrive at might well consecrate them to the fopperies of heathenism, and their rarity occasions imitations of them by art. The pastoral staff of the Church of Rome seems to have been formed from the vegetable litui, though the general idea is, I know, that it is an imitation of the shepherd's crook." Gostling's paper is accompanied by engravings of "carved branches of the ash." Brand speaks of one of these curious "freaks of nature," which he saw in the possession of an old woman at Beeralstown, in Devonshire, as "extremely beautiful." He was very anxious to purchase it, but the old lady refused to "part with it on any account, thinking it would be unlucky to do so."

Several modern writers on comparative mythology class the wish or divining rod amongst the numerous forms which the stauros, as aphallic emblem, has presented itself. The Rev. G. W. Cox, in his "Mythology of the Aryan Nations," is very explicit on this point. He says,—"The wooden emblem carries us, however, more directly to the natural mythology of the subject. The rod acquired an inherent vitality, and put forth leaves and branches in the Thyrsoi of the Dionysiac worshippers and the Seistron of Egyptian priests. It became the tree of life, and reappeared as the rod of wealth and happiness given by Apollôn to Hermes, the mystic spear which Abaris received from the Hyperborean Sun-god, and which came daily to Phoibus in his exile laden with all good things. It was seen as the lituus of the augur, the crooked staff of the shepherd, the sceptre of the king, and the divining rod which pointed out hidden springs or treasures to modern conjurors. In a form which adhered still more strictly to the first idea the emblem became the stauros or cross of Osiris, and a new source of mythology was thus laid open. To the Egyptians the cross thus became the symbol of immortality, and the god himself was crucified to a tree which denoted his fructifying power.... It is peculiar neither to the Egyptians nor Assyrians, neither to Greeks, Latins, Gauls, Germans or Hindus." Mr. Cox includes among its various forms the "trident of Poseidon or Proteus, and the fylfot or hammer of Thor, which assumes the form of a cross pattée." Increase of wealth by natural fruition evidently lies at the root of many of the myths which relate to hidden treasures, whether buried in the interior of mountains or elsewhere, as well as to the properties of magic purses, festive tables, cornucopiæ, etc.

The following paragraph appeared in the newspapers in March, 1866. It appears, from it, that in the eastern counties the bible has superseded the "wish-rod" as an instrument of divination:—

"Novel Use for the Bible.—At the Norwich assizes, on Wednesday, the case of Creakv.Smith was tried. It was an action for slander, the slanderous words imputed to the defendant being as follows:—'You are the thief, and no other man. You have robbed the fatherless and the motherless, and got in at the window. I can prove it by the turn of the Bible.' One of the witnesses for the plaintiff explained what was meant by the expression, 'I'll prove it by the turn of the Bible.' He said that the defendant had told him that a friend of his, having asked him whether he had ever heard anything about the Bible being turned, bade him come to his house and he would show him what it was. That evening, when this person went home, he told his wife what he had said to defendant, and she went through the ceremony, which was done by holding a Bible by a string, twistingit round, and as it was turning calling out the names of all in the house until she came to the plaintiff's name last of all, when it turned round the other way, showing that he was the guilty man. This ceremony was performed by her a second time by the husband's bedside, with the same triumphant result.—The jury gave a verdict for 20s. damages."

Since most of the above was written I have read the following, in Mr. Robert Hunt's "Drolls, Traditions, and Superstitions of Old Cornwall," which seems to throw a doubt upon the antiquity of the divining rod,at least as far as Cornish mining is concerned. The statement, however, in no way invalidates the fact that the hazel, ash, and other trees were held in great veneration from the most remote antiquity either in Cornwall or elsewhere:—

"It may appear strange to many that having dealt with the superstitions of the Cornish people, no mention has been made of the Divining Rod (the Dowzing Rod, as it is called), and its use in the discovery of mineral lodes. This has been avoided, in the first place, because any mention of the practice of 'dowzing' would lead to a discussion, for which this work is not intended; and in the second place, because the use of the hazel-twig is not Cornish. The divining or dowzing rod is certainly not older than the German miners, who were brought over by Queen Elizabeth to teach the Cornish to work the mines, one of whom, called Schutz, was some time Warden of the Stannaries. Indeed there is good reason for believing that the use of this wand is of more recent date, and consequently, removed from the periods which are sought to be illustrated by this collection. The divining rod belongs no more to them than do the modern mysteries of twirling hats, of teaching tables to turn, and—in their wooden way—to talk."

Of course, as Mr. Hunt assigns not the good reason referred to for his statement, it can but be regarded as the expression of an individual opinion. It may, perhaps, belocally true, either wholly or in part. However, whatever may be its value, in such matters it is incumbent on the earnest seeker after truth to conceal no apparently incongruous facts or hostile opinions.

The writer of an article on "Stick and Table Turning," published in "All the Year Round," makes the following comments on the manner in which this superstition exhibits itself during the present generation:—

"A good deal of attention was paid by the newspapers to certain alleged achievements of two diviners, or dowsers, about twenty yearsago. They were West of England men, named Adams and Mapstone. A farmer near Wedmore, in Somerset, wishing for a supply of water on his farm, applied to Mapstone. Mapstone used a hazel rod in the usual way, and when he came over a particular spot declared that water would be found fifteen or twenty feet beneath the surface. Digging was therefore commenced at that spot, and water appeared at a depth of nineteen feet. The other expert, Adams, who claimed to have been instrumental in the discovery of nearly a hundred springs in the West of England, went one day by invitation to the house of Mr. Phippen, a surgeon, at Wedmore, to dowse for water. He walked about in the garden behind Mr. Phippen's house until the stick became so agitated that he could not keep it steady; it bent down at a spot which he asserted must have clear water underneath it. Mr. Phippen caused a digging to be made, and water was really found at the spot indicated. As a means of testing Adams's powers in relation to metals, three hats were placed in a row in the kitchen, and three silver spoons under one of the hats. Adams walked among the hats, and his rod told him which of them covered the treasure. Then three kinds of valuables, gold, silver, and jewels, were placed under three hats, one kind under each, and he found out which was which. On one occasion he dowsed for water in the grounds of the Rev. Mr. Foster, of Sodbury, in Gloucestershire. Using the same method as before, he announced the presence of water at a particular spot, twenty feet beneath the surface. A pamphlet published by Mr. Phippen concerning these curious facts attracted the attention of Mr. Marshall, partner in the great flax factory at Leeds. Water was wanted at the mill, and the owners were willing to see whether dowsing could effect anything in the matter. Mr. Marshall invited Adams to come down and search for springs. On one occasion, when blindfolded, Adams failed, but hit the mark pretty nearly in the second attempt, excusing himself for the first failure on the ground that 'he was not used to be blindfolded.' Of the main experiments, Mr. Marshall afterwards said, in a letter to the newspapers, 'I tested Adams by taking him over some deep borings at our manufactory, where he could have no possible guide from anything he could see; and he certainly pointed out nearly the position of the springs, as shown by the produce of the bore-holes, some being much more productive than others. The same was the result at another factory, where Adams could have had no guide from what he saw, and could not have got information otherwise.'"

This superstition has been imported into Australia, where it seemsto flourish with remarkable vigour, notwithstanding the boasted enlightenment and civilisation of the race and age. The following paragraph, which appeared in a Melbourne newspaper in the early part of the year 1867, speaks for itself:—

"In the area of Kiora, lying to the southward of Ararat, the settlers, who are very anxious to discover springs of water upon their selections, have engaged the services of an old man, apparently between sixty and seventy years of age, who professes to discover springs by the aid of a divining rod. He has already pointed out two spots where he confidently states water will be found at a moderate depth, and the farmers are now engaged in practically proving his skill. We are told that the diviner holds a slender strip of steel between the finger and thumb of both hands, and walks about the land with it in this position. When water is approached, the rod trembles violently, and the motion ceases as the place is left. One of the settlers, Mr. Tomkins, with the view of testing his accuracy, had the diviner blindfolded (after pointing out the spot where water would be found) and taken to another portion of his land, but he states that the motion of the rod led him, with but little hesitation, back to the same place. The old man refuses to take money for his services till water be obtained, and when proved to exist asks £3 from each individual. He states that the rod was owned by his father, and that it will not indicate water in the hands of any of his brothers. While engaged at Kiora he showed some of the farmers letters which he had received from a number of squatters engaging his services on their stations in a similar capacity; and he left to fulfil these engagements, with a view of returning for payment when the sinking is concluded. He professes to name within three feet of the depth at which water will be obtained, but cannot say if it will prove fresh or salt."

A superstition somewhat akin to that in which the divining rod plays so prominent a part, still lingers in various parts of the country. It is believed that a loaf of wheaten bread, containing a quantity of quicksilver in its centre, will, on being placed in a running stream, rest over the spot where a drowned body lies. The experiment was tried very recently, and an account of it appeared in the newspapers. In this instance, however, the "faithful believers" were grievously disappointed, as the loaf floated past the spot where the body was afterwards discovered.

Another form of this superstition is referred to by Dr. Randal Caldicot, who, evidently, lacked not faith in its efficacy. He says,—"When any Christian is drowned in the river Dee, there will appearover the water where the corpse is, a light, by which means they do find the body, and it is therefore called the holy Dee."

Aubrey, in his "Miscellanies," quotes a letter addressed to Mr. Baxter, referring to the Welsh "corpse-candle" superstitions, in which the writernaivelysays that the light "doth as much resemble a material candle-light as eggs do eggs."

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