us on the moor not to be on giide tarms wi' they. I 'm right as a trivet now."
The schools have pretty well banished superstition from Dartmoor; none now remains, and I doubt whether the old stories are any longer to be picked up there.
Education, however, is not in an advanced condition. The other day I took down for preservation the following notice I saw affixed to the church gate at Post Bridge. It was written on vermilion-red paper:—
"Mary maze hencot as been and kellad John Webb Jack daw.
and he got to pay 5s for kellad a Jack daw."
The sense is not clear. As may be noticed, Mary is a he, just as a cow is a he.
Here is a bit of conversation overheard between two Dartmoor boys:—
"I zay, Bill, 'ow many cows hev your vaither?"
"Mine—oh! dree and an oss. How many 'as yourn?"
"Mine! oh! my vaither—e 's in heaven."
"Get out! mine ha' been there scöres o' times."
This is a sceptical age. The very foundations of faith in verities and trust in authorities are shaken. How far may be instanced by this anecdote:—
Two choir boys had been to a Christmas treat. There was a cake with little plaster figures on it, and two of these were presented to the aforesaid boys, Jack and Tom, by their pastor and spiritual father, with strict injunctions not to eat them, as
