ate it on the hen. The hen said, "Sorrow go from you, do you remember the day when I cleaned the house for you."
"Throw another grain," said the king's son, and the cock ate it on the hen. "Sorrow go from you," said the little hen, "do you remember the day I whistled and the birds put the feathers on the house."
"Throw them a grain," said the king's son, and the cock picked it up. "Sorrow go from you," said the little hen, "do you remember the day I gave you the bridle, and the horse put his head into it."
"Now I understand myself," said the king's son. "I have proved very false to you. It was you brought me through the danger, so you shall be my wife."
Notes on Guernsey Folklore.
There lives in S. Martin's at the present time a family who are supposed to have supernatural powers, and they are credited with the possession of "bad books " (as our people call the "Grimoire du Pape Honorius," " Le Grand Albert," etc.). I myself know many people who are terrified of offending them in any way, and who, though careful country folk much averse to both lending and giving, dare not refuse anything asked for by any member of this family for fear of the consequences. One of the sons, a man of about thirty-five, who is deformed, follows the trade of a fisher- man, and before I knew who he was I was surprised to see how peculiarly courteous the boys of the neighbourhood were to him, — helping him to tie up his boat, carrying things for him, always
saying " Bonjour, Mess R " when they met him(^). At last
I made enquiries about him, and was told that "he puts a spell on you if you aren't nice to him," and therefore it is necessary to be very polite to him. About three years ago a man, sober and much respected by his neighbours, had the misfortune to offend
R , and one evening at about seven o'clock they met.
"Where are you going?" asked Mess R. "Straight home," replied the farmer. " You'll take a long time getting there," said