Mrs. A., a resident here, says that every time a robin comes into her house there is trouble. She cites three instances, two in which the omen was followed by serious illness, and a third, when robins entered repeatedly, by death.
Yesterday (May 26th, 19 10), I was given an orchid which had been rescued from one of the Royal wreaths on the way to the bonfire. The next woman I called on told me it was very unlucky to bring such things into the house.
Slough.
Essex.
The following cure for whooping-cough was told by an old woman, about the year 1878:—"You must cut a little hair from the nape of the child's neck and make it into a ball with some fat," (some particular fat was specified), "but butter will do, and lay it on your front door step, and the first dog that comes by will eat it. My little Bill" (her grandson) "was bad, and I tried it for him. I had hardly laid the fat on the steps when Master Edwards " (the shepherd) "come by, and his dog snapped it up, and the child never whooped again"—(these last words very solemnly and impressively).[1]
One day, the Rector,—it must have been in the sixties or seventies,—called at some cottages in a remote part of the parish. In one house the woman said her baby had been very bad with teething, but she had been to Walden and got a skein of red silk to put round its neck, so she hoped it would be better. Next door, the woman had cut her hand badly, but "I greased the knife and put it on the shelf," which she seemed to think would give her great relief.
About 1899, I discovered that our garden-boy would not go to the pond for water if a dragon-fly were about,—"merrymaid" as he called it,—as "it would draw him into the water." (Apparently some confusion with mermaid?)
A cook who lived with us for some years always kept a Queen's head (a shilling) on her bad leg, but whether to ease the pain or to
- ↑ Cf. Henderson, Notes on the Folk-Lore of the Northern Counties etc ., p. 143; vol. XX., p. 221 (Staffordshire).
