The writer received this account from a man who had himself consulted the future by the Bible and Key.

Testing a Lover's Love by Cracking of Nuts.

This divination is common to many countries, but the writer knows that it is resorted to on All Hallows Eve in Denbighshire by young ladies, partly, it may be in fun, and partly in earnest. The plan of proceeding is as follows:—Nuts are placed on the bars of the fire grate, equal in number to the young lady's lovers, and the nut that cracks first, and jumps off the bar, represents her true love. She has, of course fixed in her mind the lover each nut stands for. So common is this test that in the North of England All Hallows Eve is called "Nutcrack night."

Gay describes the ceremony:—

Two hazel nuts I throw into the flame And to each nut I give a sweetheart's name; This with the loudest bounce me sore amazed, That in a flame of brightest-colour blazed; As blazed the nut, so may thy passions grow, For 'twas thy nut that did so brightly glow.

Burns, in his poem of Hallowe'en also mentions the nut divination.

The auld guidwife's weel-hoordet nits Are round an' round divided, An' monie lads' and lasses' fates Are there that night decided; Some kindle, couthie, side by side, An' burn thegither trimly; Some start awa' wi' saucy pride, And jump out-owre the chimlie Fu' high that night. Jean slips in twa' wi' tentie e'e; Wha 'twas, she wadna tell; But this is Jock, an' this is me, She says in to hersel': He bleez'd owre her, and she owre him, As they wad never mair part; 'Till, fuff! he started up the lum, An' Jean had e'en a sair heart To see't that night.



The Apple Pip Trial of Lovers.

The fair lady takes as many pips as she has lovers, and these she places on the point of a knife, which she inserts between the bars of the fire grate. Each pip represents a lover, and the pip that swells out and jumps into the fire indicates that he is the best lover for whom the pip stands.



SPIRITUALISM.

The next subject I shall treat of is curious, and partakes of the nature of spiritualism. I hardly know by what other word to describe it, therefore I will give particulars, so as to make the matter intelligible to the reader, and call it "Spiritualism."

It was believed that it was possible for the spirit to leave the body, and then, after an absence of some time, to return again and re-enter it. The form the spirit assumed when it quitted the body was a bluish light like that of a candle, but somewhat longer. This light left the body through the mouth, and re-entered the same way.

The writer was informed by a certain female friend at Llandegla that she had seen a bluish light leave the mouth of a person who was sick, light which she thought was the life, or spirit of that person, but the person did not immediately die.

For another tale of this kind I am indebted to Mr. R. Roberts, who lives in the village of Clocaenog, near Ruthin. He was not himself a witness of the occurrence, but vouches for the accuracy of the report. It is as follows:—



A Spirit leaving and re-entering the body.

A man was in love with two young girls, and they were both in love with him, and they knew that he flirted with them both. It is but natural to suppose that these young ladies did not, being rivals, love each other. It can well be believed that they heartily disliked each other. One evening, according to custom, this young man spent the night with one of his sweethearts, and to all appearance she fell asleep, or was in a trance, for she looked very pale. He noticed her face, and was frightened by its death-like pallor, but he was greatly surprised to see a bluish flame proceed out of her mouth, and go towards the door. He followed this light, and saw it take the direction of the house in which his other love lived, and he observed that from that house, too, a like light was travelling, as if to meet the light that he was following. Ere long these lights met each other, and they apparently fought, for they dashed into each other, and flitted up and down, as if engaged in mortal combat. The strife continued for some time, and then the lights separated and departed in the direction of the respective houses where the two young women lived. The man returned to the house of the young woman with whom he was spending the night, following close on the light, which he saw going before him, and which re-entered her body through her mouth; and then she immediately awoke.

Here, presumedly, these two troubled young ladies met in a disembodied form to contend for the possession of this young man.

A tale much like the preceding occurs on page 283.

There is something akin to this spectral appearance believed in in Scotland, where the apparition is called Wraith, which word is defined in Jameson's Etymological Dictionary, published by Gardner, 1882, thus:—

"Wraith, etc.: Properly an apparition in the exact likeness of a person, supposed by the vulgar to be seen before, or soon after, death."

This definition does not correspond exactly to what has been said of the Welsh spirit appearance, but it teaches the possibility, or shows the people's faith in the possibility, of the soul's existence apart from the body. It would seem that in Scotland this spectre is seen before, or after, death; but the writer has read of a case in which the wraith of a person appeared to himself and was the means of saving his life, and that he long survived after his other self had rescued him from extreme danger.

Lately a legend of Lake Ogwen went the round of the papers, but the writer, who lived many years in the neighbourhood of that lake, never heard of it until he saw it in the papers in 1887. As it bears on the subject under consideration, I will in part transcribe the story:—

"On one of these occasions a friend who had known something of the Welsh gipsies repeated to Rossetti an anecdote which had been told him as a 'quite true fack' by a Romani girl—an anecdote touching another Romani girl whose wraith had been spirited away in the night from the 'camping place' by the incantations of a wicked lover, had been seen rushing towards Ogwen Lake in the moonlight, 'While all the while that 'ere same chavi wur asleep an' a-sobbin' in her daddy's livin' waggin.'"—Bye-Gones, Ap. 13, 1887.

This tale resembles in many respects the one given on page 291, for there is in both a lover and a sleeping girl, and the girl does not die, but there are minor differences in the tales, as might be expected.

In Germany like tales are current. Baring-Gould, in his Myths of the Middle Ages, pp. 423-4, says:—

"The soul in German mythology is supposed to bear some analogy to a mouse. In Thuringia, at Saalfeld, a servant girl fell asleep whilst her companions were shelling nuts. They observed a little red mouse creep out of her mouth and run out of the window. One of the fellows present shook the sleeper but could not wake her, so he moved her to another place. Presently the mouse ran back to the former place and dashed about seeking the girl; not finding her, it vanished; at the same moment the girl died."

One other tale on this subject I will give, which appeared in the North Wales Chronicle for April 22, 1883, where it is headed—



A Spiritualistic Story from Wales.

"In an article relating to spiritualism in the February number of the Fortnightly Review, a story was told which is here shortened. The anecdote is given on the authority of a Welsh gentleman named Roberts, who resided at Cheetham, near Manchester, and the scene of the adventure is Beaumaris, the date 184—. The narrator was then an apprentice in a draper's shop. His master was strict, and allowed his apprentice but half an hour for dinner, which he had to take at his lodgings, some distance away from the shop. At whatever time he left the shop he had to be back there punctually at half past twelve. One day he was late, and while hastily swallowing his meat, his aunt being at the table, he looked up and saw that the clock pointed to half past twelve! He was thunderstruck, and, with the fear of his master before him, all but lost consciousness, and was indeed in a dazed state for a few minutes, as was noticed by those at the table. Shaking this off by an effort, he again looked at the clock, and, to his relief and astonishment, saw that the hands only pointed to a quarter past twelve. Then he quickly finished his dinner and returned to the shop at the appointed time. There he was told that at a quarter past twelve he had returned to the shop, put up his hat, moved about in an absent manner, had been scolded, and had thereupon put on his hat again and walked out. Several persons on the one hand corroborated this story, whilst on the other his aunt was positive that, although at that moment he had fallen into a strange fit of abstraction, he had never left the table. This is the narrative, attested by a gentleman now living. The year 184— is not so far back; perhaps there are still those residing on the upper side of the turf at Beaumaris who remember the circumstance."

This tale in its nature is not unlike the others herein given. It belongs to the supernatural side of life.

However improbable these stories may appear, they point to the notion that spirits can exist independently of the body. The Irish fetch, the Scotch wraith, and the Welsh Canwyll Corph, are alike in their teaching, but of this latter I shall speak more particularly when treating of death portents.



A Doctor called from his bed by a Voice.

Mr. Hugh Lloyd, Llanfihangel-Glyn-Myfyr, who received the story from Dr. Davies, the gentleman who figures in the tale, informed me of the following curious incidents:—

Doctor Davies, of Cerrig-y-drudion, had gone to bed and slept, but in the night he heard someone under his bedroom window shout that he was wanted in a farmhouse called Craigeirchan, which was three miles from the doctor's abode, and the way thereto was at all times beset with difficulties, such as opening and shutting the many gates; but of a night the journey to this mountain farm was one that few would think of taking, unless called to do so by urgent business. The doctor did not pay much attention to the first request, but he lay quietly on the bed listening, and almost immediately he heard the same voice requesting him to go at once to Craigeirchan, as he was wanted there. He now got up to the window, but could not see anyone; he therefore re-entered his bed, but for the third time he heard the voice telling him to go to the farm named, and now he opened the window and said that he would follow the messenger forthwith. The doctor got up, went to the stable, saddled the horse, and off he started for a long dismal ride over a wild tract of mountain country; such a journey he had often taken. He was not surprised that he could not see, nor hear, anyone in advance, for he knew that Welsh lads are nimble of foot, and could, by cutting across fields, etc., outstrip a rider. At last he neared the house where he was wanted, and in the distance he saw a light, and by this sign he was convinced that there was sickness in the house. He drove up to the door and entered the abode, to the surprise but great joy of the inmates. To his inquiry after the person who had been sent for him, he was told that no one had left the house, nor had anyone been requested by the family to go to the doctor. But he was told his services were greatly wanted, for the wife was about to become a mother, and the doctor was instrumental in saving both the life of the child and mother.

What makes this tale all the more curious is the fact, that the doctor was an unbeliever in such things as ghosts, etc., and he had often enjoyed a quiet laugh over the tales he heard of a supernatural kind. Mr. Lloyd asked the doctor whether he had heard of the woman's condition, but he affirmed he was ignorant of everything connected with the place and family.



Another Tale of a Doctor.

I received the following tale from the Rev. Philip Edwards, formerly curate at Selattyn, near Oswestry:—

There was, or perhaps is—for my informant says he believes the lady is still alive—in a place called Swyddffynnon, Cardiganshire, a Mrs. Evans, who had a strange vision. Mr. Edwards's father called one evening upon Mrs. Evans, and found her sitting by the fire in company with a few female friends, greatly depressed. On enquiring as to the cause of her distress, she stated that she had had a strange sight that very evening. She saw, she said, in the unoccupied chamber at the further end of the house, a light, and, whilst she was wondering what light it was, she observed a tall, dark, stranger gentleman, who had a long, full beard, enter the house and go straight to the room where the light was, but before going in he took off his hat and placed it on the table; then he took off his gloves and threw them into the hat, and then he placed his riding whip across the hat, and without uttering a single word he entered the lit-up room. Shortly afterwards she saw the stranger emerge from the room and leave the house, and on looking again towards the room she saw that the light had disappeared. It was, she said, this apparition that had disconcerted her. Some time after this vision Mrs. Evans was in a critical state, and as she lived far away from a doctor my informant's father was requested to ride to Aberystwyth for one. He found, however, that the two doctors who then resided in that town were from home. But he was informed at the inn that there was a London doctor staying at Hafod. He determined, whether he could or could not, induce this gentleman to accompany him to Swyddffynnon, to go there. The gentleman, on hearing the urgency of the case, consented to visit the sick woman. Mr. Edwards and the doctor rode rapidly to their destination, and Mr. Edwards was surprised to find that the doctor did everything exactly as had been stated by Mrs. Evans. There was also a light in the chamber, for there the neighbours had placed the still-born child, and it was the providential help of the London doctor that saved Mrs. Evans's life. I may add that the personal appearance of this gentleman corresponded with the description given of him by Mrs. Evans.



DEATH PORTENTS.

These are common, in one form or other, to all nations. I will give a list of those which were formerly in high repute in Wales.



The Corpse Bird, or Deryn Corph.

This was a bird that came flapping its wings against the window of the room in which lay a sick person, and this visit was considered a certain omen of that person's death. The bird not only fluttered about the lighted window, but also made a screeching noise whilst there, and also as it flew away. The bird, singled out for the dismal honour of being a death prognosticator, was the tawny, or screech owl. Many are the instances, which have been told me by persons who heard the bird's noise, of its having been the precursor of death. This superstition is common to all parts of Wales.



A Crowing Hen.

This bird, too, is supposed to indicate the death of an inmate of the house which is its home; or, if not the death, some sore disaster to one or other of the members of that family. The poor hen, though, as soon as it is heard crowing, certainly foretells its own death, for no one will keep such an uncanny bird on the premises, and consequently the crowing hen loses its life.

It is a common saying that—

A whistling woman, and a crowing hen, Are neither good for God nor men.

Should a hen lay a small egg it was to be thrown over the head, and over the roof of the house, or a death would follow.



A Cock Crowing in the Night.

This, too, was thought to foretell a death, but whose death, depended on the direction of the bird's head whilst crowing. As soon as the crowing was heard someone went to ascertain the position of the cock's head, and when it was seen that his head was turned from their own house towards someone else's abode, the dwellers in that house slept in peace, believing that a neighbour, and not one of themselves, was about to die. It was supposed, that to make the prognostication sure, the cock would have to crow three times in succession before or about midnight, and in the same direction.



The Corpse Candle—Canwyll Corph.

The corpse candle, or canwyll corph, was a light like that of a candle, which was said to issue from the house where a death was about to occur, and take the course of the funeral procession to the burial place. This was the usual way of proceeding, but this mysterious light was also thought to wend its way to the abode of a person about to die. Instances could be given of both kinds of appearances.

I have met with persons in various parts of Wales who told me that they had seen a corpse candle. They described it as a pale bluish light moving slowly along a short distance above the ground. Strange tales are told of the course the light has taken. Once it was seen to go over hedges and to make straight for the churchyard wall. This was not then understood, but when the funeral actually took place the ground was covered with snow, and the drift caused the procession to proceed along the fields and over the hedges and churchyard wall, as indicated by the corpse candle.

It was ill jesting with the corpse candle. The Rev. J. Jenkins, Vicar of Hirnant, told me that a drunken sailor at Borth said he went up to a corpse candle and attempted to light his pipe at it, but he was whisked away, and when he came to himself he discovered that he was far off the road in the bog.

The Rev. Edmund Jones, in his book entitled A Relation of Ghosts and Apparitions, etc., states:—

"Some have seen the resemblance of a skull carrying the candle; others the shape of the person that is to die carrying the candle between his fore-fingers, holding the light before his face. Some have said that they saw the shape of those who were to be at the burying."

Those who have followed the light state that it proceeded to the church, lit up the building, emerged therefrom, and then hovered awhile over a certain spot in the churchyard, and then sank into the earth at the place where the deceased was to be buried.

There is a tradition that St. David, by prayer, obtained the corpse candle as a sign to the living of the reality of another world, and that originally it was confined to his diocese. This tradition finds no place in the Life of the Saint, as given in the Cambro-British Saints, and there are there many wonderful things recorded of that saint.

It was thought possible for a man to meet his own Candle. There is a tale of a person who met a Candle and struck it with his walking-stick, when it became sparks, which, however, re-united. The man was greatly frightened, became sick, and died. At the spot where he had struck the candle the bier broke and the coffin fell to the ground, thus corroborating the man's tale.

I will now record one tale not of the usual kind, which was told me by a person who is alive.



Tale of a Corpse Candle.

My informant told me that one John Roberts, Felin-y-Wig, was in the habit of sitting up a short time after his family had retired to rest to smoke a quiet pipe, and the last thing he usually did before retiring for the night was to take a peep into the night. One evening, whilst peering around, he saw in the distance a light, where he knew there was no house, and on further notice he observed that it was slowly going along the road from Bettws-Gwerfil-Goch towards Felin-y-Wig. Where the road dipped the light disappeared, only, however, to appear again in such parts of the road as were visible from John Roberts's house. At first Roberts thought that the light proceeded from a lantern, but this was so unusual an occurrence in those parts that he gave up this idea, and intently followed the motions of the light. It approached Roberts's house, and evidently this was its destination. He endeavoured to ascertain whether the light was carried by a man or woman, but he could see nothing save the light. When, therefore, it turned into the lane approaching Roberts's house, in considerable fear he entered the house and closed the door, awaiting, with fear, the approach of the light. To his horror, he perceived the light passing through the shut door, and it played in a quivering way underneath the roof, and then vanished. That very night the servant man died, and his bed was right above the spot where the light had disappeared.



Spectral Funerals, or Drychiolaeth.

This was a kind of shadowy funeral which foretold the real one. In South Wales it goes by the name toilu, toili, or y teulu (the family) anghladd, unburied; in Montgomeryshire it is called Drychiolaeth, spectre.

I cannot do better than quote from Mr. Hamer's Parochial Account of Llanidloes (Montgomeryshire Collections, vol. x., p. 256), a description of one of these phantom funerals. All were much alike. He writes:—

"It is only a few years ago that some excitement was caused amongst the superstitious portion of the inhabitants by the statement of a certain miner, who at the time was working at the Brynpostig mine. On his way to the mine one dark night, he said that he was thoroughly frightened in China Street on seeing a spectral funeral leaving the house of one Hoskiss, who was then very ill in bed. In his fright the miner turned his back on the house, with the intention of going home, but almost fainting he could scarcely move out of the way of the advancing procession, which gradually approached, at last surrounded him, and then passed on down Longbridge Street, in the direction of the church. The frightened man managed with difficulty to drag himself home, but he was so ill that he was unable to go to work for several days."

The following weird tale I received from the Rev. Philip Edwards, whom I have already mentioned (p. 282). I may state that I have heard variants of the story from other sources.

While the Manchester and Milford Railway was in course of construction there was a large influx of navvies into Wales, and many a frugal farmer added to his incomings by lodging and boarding workmen engaged on the line. Several of these men were lodged at a farm called Penderlwyngoch, occupied by a man named Hughes.

One evening when the men were seated round the fire, which burned brightly, they heard the farm dogs bark, as they always did at the approach of strangers. This aroused the attention of the men, and they perceived from the furious barking of the dogs that someone was coming towards the house. By-and-by they heard the tramp of feet, mingled with the howling of the frightened dogs, and then the dogs ceased barking, just as if they had slunk away in terror. Before many minutes had elapsed the inmates heard the back door opened, and a number of people entered the house, carrying a heavy load resembling a dead man, which they deposited in the parlour, and all at once the noise ceased. The men in great dread struck a light, and proceeded to the parlour to ascertain what had taken place. But they could discover nothing there, neither were there any marks of feet in the room, nor could they find any footprints outside the house, but they saw the cowering dogs in the yard looking the picture of fright. After this fruitless investigation of the cause of this dread sound, the Welsh people present only too well knew the cause of this visit. On the very next day one of the men who sat by the fire was killed, and his body was carried by his fellow-workmen to the farm house, in fact everything occurred as rehearsed the previous night. Most of the people who witnessed the vision are, my informant says, still alive.



Cyhyraeth—Death Sound.

This was thought to be a sound made by a crying spirit. It was plaintive, yet loud and terrible. It made the hair stand on end and the blood become cold; and a whole neighbourhood became depressed whenever the awful sound was heard. It was unlike all other voices, and it could not be mistaken. It took in its course the way the funeral procession was to go, starting from the house of the dead, and ending in the churchyard where the deceased was to be buried. It was supposed to announce a death the morning before it occurred, or, at most, a few days before. It was at one time thought to belong to persons born in the Diocese of Llandaff, but it must have travelled further north, for it is said to have been heard on the Kerry Hills in Montgomeryshire. The function of the Cyhyraeth was much the same as that of the Corpse Candle, but it appealed to the sense of sound instead of to the sense of sight. Dogs, when they heard the distressing sound of the Cyhyraeth, showed signs of fear and ran away to hide.



Lledrith—Spectre of a Person.

This apparition of a friend has in the Scotch wraith, or Irish fetch its counterpart. It has been said that people have seen friends walking to meet them, and that, when about to shake hands with the approaching person, it has vanished into air. This optical illusion was considered to be a sign of the death of the person thus seen.



Tolaeth—Death Rapping or Knocking.

The death rappings are said to be heard in carpenters' workshops, and that they resembled the noise made by a carpenter when engaged in coffin-making. A respectable miner's wife told me that a female friend told her, she had often heard this noise in a carpenter's shop close by her abode, and that one Sunday evening this friend came and told her that the Tolaeth was at work then, and if she would come with her she should hear it. She complied, and there she heard this peculiar sound, and was thoroughly frightened. There was no one in the shop at the time, the carpenter and his wife being in chapel. Sometimes this noise was heard by the person who was to die, but generally by his neighbours. The sounds were heard in houses even, and when this was the case the noise resembled the noise made as the shroud is being nailed to the coffin.



A Raven's Croaking.

A raven croaking hoarsely as it flew through the air became the angel of death to some person over whose house it flew. It was a bird of ill omen.



The Owl.

This bird's dismal and persistent screeching near an abode also foretold the death of an inmate of that house.



A Solitary Crow.

The cawing of a solitary crow on a tree near a house indicates a death in that house.



The Dog's Howl.

A dog howling on the doorsteps or at the entrance of a house also foretold death. The noise was that peculiar howling noise which dogs sometimes make. It was in Welsh called yn udo, or crying.



Missing a Butt.

Should a farmer in sowing wheat, or other kind of corn, or potatoes, or turnips, miss a row or butt, it was a token of death.



Stopping of a Clock.

The unaccountable stopping of the kitchen clock generally created a consternation in a family, for it was supposed to foretell the death of one of the family.



A Goose Flying over a House.

This unusual occurrence prognosticated a death in that house.



Goose or Hen Laying a Small Egg.

This event also was thought to be a very bad omen, if not a sign of death.



Hen laying Two Eggs in the same day.

Should a hen lay two eggs in the same day, it was considered a sign of death. I have been told that a hen belonging to a person who lived in Henllan, near Denbigh, laid an egg early in the morning, and another about seven o'clock p.m. in the same day, and the master died.



Thirteen at a Table.

Should thirteen sit at a table it was believed that the first to leave would be buried within the year.



Heather.

Should any person bring heather into a house, he brought death to one or other of the family by so doing.



Death Watch.

This is a sound, like the ticking of a watch, made by a small insect. It is considered a sign of death, and hence its name, Death Watch.

A working man's wife, whose uncle was ill in bed, told the writer, that she had no hopes of his recovery, because death ticks were heard night and day in his room. The man, who was upwards of eighty years old, died.



Music and Bird Singing heard before Death.

The writer, both in Denbighshire and Carnarvonshire, was told that the dying have stated that they heard sweet voices singing in the air, and they called the attention of the watchers to the angelic sounds, and requested perfect stillness, so as not to lose a single note of the heavenly music.

A young lad, whom the writer knew—an intelligent and promising boy—whilst lying on his death-bed, told his mother that he heard a bird warbling beautifully outside the house, and in rapture he listened to the bird's notes.

His mother told me of this, and she stated further, that she had herself on three different occasions previously to her eldest daughter's death, in the middle of the night, distinctly heard singing of the most lovely kind, coming, as she thought, from the other side of the river. She went to the window and opened it, but the singing immediately ceased, and she failed to see anyone on the spot where she had imagined the singing came from. My informant also told me that she was not the only person who heard lovely singing before the death of a friend. She gave me the name of a nurse, who before the death of a person, whose name was also given me, heard three times the most beautiful singing just outside the sick house. She looked out into the night, but failed to see anyone. Singing of this kind is expected before the death of every good person, and it is a happy omen that the dying is going to heaven.

In the Life of Tegid, which is given in his Gwaith Barddonawl, p. 20, it is stated:—

"Yn ei absenoldeb o'r Eglwys, pan ar wely angeu, ar fore dydd yr Arglwydd, tra yr oedd offeiriad cymmydogaethol yn darllen yn ei le yn Llan Nanhyfer, boddwyd llais y darllenydd gan fwyalchen a darawai drwy yr Eglwys accen uchel a pherseiniol yn ddisymwth iawn. . . . Ar ol dyfod o'r Eglwys cafwyd allan mai ar yr amser hwnw yn gywir yr ehedodd enaid mawr Tegid o'i gorph i fyd yr ysprydoedd."

Which translated is as follows:—

In his absence from Church, when lying on his deathbed, in the morning of the Lord's Day, whilst a neighbouring clergyman was taking the service for him in Nanhyfer Church, the voice of the reader was suddenly drowned by the beautiful song of a thrush, that filled the whole Church. . . . It was ascertained on leaving the church that at that very moment the soul of Tegid left his body for the world of spirits.

In the Myths of the Middle Ages, p. 426, an account is given of "The Piper of Hamelin," and there we have a description of this spirit song:—

Sweet angels are calling to me from yon shore, Come over, come over, and wander no more.

Miners believe that some of their friends have the gift of seeing fatal accidents before they occur. A miner in the East of Denbighshire told me of instances of this belief and he gave circumstantial proof of the truth of his assertion. Akin to this faith is the belief that people have seen coffins or spectral beings enter houses, both of which augur a coming death.

In The Lives of the Cambro-British Saints, p. 444, it is stated that previously to the death of St. David "the whole city was filled with the music of angels."

The preceding death omens do not, perhaps, exhaust the number, but they are quite enough to show how prevalent they were, and how prone the people were to believe in such portents. Some of them can be accounted for on natural grounds, but the majority are the creation of the imagination, strengthened possibly in certain instances by remarkable coincidences which were remembered, whilst if no death occurred after any of the omens, the failure was forgotten.



BIRDS AND BEASTS.

Folk-lore respecting animals is common in Wales. It has been supposed that mountainous countries are the cradles of superstitions. But this is, at least, open to a doubt; for most places perpetuate these strange fancies, and many of them have reached our days from times of old, and the exact country whence they came is uncertain. Still, it cannot be denied that rugged, rocky, sparsely inhabited uplands, moorlands, and fens, are congenial abodes for wild fancies, that have their foundation in ignorance, and are perpetuated by the credulity of an imaginative people that lead isolated and solitary lives.

The bleating of the sheep, as they wander over a large expanse of barren mountain land, is dismal indeed, and well might become ominous of storms and disasters. The big fat sheep, which are penned in the lowlands of England, with a tinkling bell strapped to the neck of the king of the flock, convey a notion of peace and plenty to the mind of the spectator, that the shy active mountain sheep, with their angry grunt and stamping of their feet never convey. Still, these latter are endowed with an instinct which the English mutton-producer does not exercise. Welsh sheep become infallible prognosticators of a change of weather; for, by a never failing instinct, they leave the high and bare mountain ridges for sheltered nooks, and crowd together when they detect the approach of a storm. Man does not observe atmospheric changes as quickly as sheep do, and as sheep evidently possess one instinct which is strongly developed and exercised, it is not unreasonable to suppose that man in a low state of civilisation might credit animals with possessing powers which, if observed, indicate or foretell other events beside storms.

Thus the lowly piping of the solitary curlew, the saucy burr of the grouse, the screech of the owl, the croaking of the raven, the flight of the magpie, the slowly flying heron, the noisy cock, the hungry seagull, the shrill note of the woodpecker, the sportive duck, all become omens.

Bird omens have descended to us from remote antiquity. Rome is credited with having received its pseudo-science of omens from Etruria, but whence came it there? This semi-religious faith, like a river that has its source in a far distant, unexplored mountain region, and meanders through many countries, and does not exclusively belong to any one of the lands through which it wanders; so neither does it seem that these credulities belong to any one people or age; and it is difficult, if not impossible, to trace to their origin, omens, divination, magic, witchcraft, and other such cognate matters, which seem to belong to man's nature.

Readers of Livy remember how Romulus and Remus had recourse to bird omens to determine which of the brothers should build Rome. Remus saw six vultures, and Romulus twelve; therefore, as his number was the greater, to him fell the honour of building the famous city.

But this was not the only bird test known to the Romans. Before a battle those people consulted their game fowl to ascertain whether or not victory was about to attend their arms. If the birds picked up briskly the food thrown to them victory was theirs, if they did so sluggishly the omen was unpropitious, and consequently the battle was delayed.

Plutarch, in his "Life of Alexander," gives us many proofs of that great general's credulity. The historian says:—"Upon his (Alexander's) approach to the walls (of Babylon) he saw a great number of crows fighting, some of which fell down dead at his feet." This was a bad sign. But I will not pursue the subject. Enough has been said to prove how common omens were. I will now confine my remarks to Wales.



Birds singing before February.

Should the feathered songsters sing before February it is a sign of hard, ungenial weather. This applies particularly to the blackbird and throstle. The following lines embody this faith:—

Os can yr adar cyn Chwefror, hwy griant cyn Mai.

If birds sing before February, they will cry before May.

Thus their early singing prognosticates a prolonged winter.—Bye-Gones, vol. i., p. 88.



Birds flocking in early Autumn.

When birds gather themselves together and form flocks in the early days of autumn, it is thought to foretell an early and severe winter.

On the other hand, should they separate in early spring, and again congregate in flocks, this shews that hard weather is to be expected, and that winter will rest on the lap of May.



Birds' Feathers.

Feather beds should be made of domestic birds' feathers, such as geese, ducks, and fowls. Wild fowl feathers should not be mixed with these feathers; for, otherwise, the sick will die hard, and thus the agony of their last moments will be prolonged.



The Cock.

Caesar, Bk. v., c.12, tells us that the Celtic nation did not regard it lawful to eat the cock.

It was thought that the devil assumed occasionally the form of a cock. It is said that at Llanfor, near Bala, the evil spirit was driven out of the church in the form of a cock, and laid in the river Dee.

Formerly the cock was offered to the water god. And at certain Holy Wells in Wales, such as that in the parish of Llandegla, it was customary to offer to St. Tecla a cock for a male patient, and a hen for a female. A like custom prevailed at St. Deifer's Well, Bodfari. Classical readers may remember that Socrates, before his death, desired his friend Crito to offer a cock to AEsculapius. "Crito," said he, and these were his last words, "we owe a cock to AEsculapius, discharge that debt for me, and pray do not forget it;" soon after which he breathed his last.

In our days, the above-mentioned superstitions do not prevail, but the cock has not been resigned entirely to the cook. By some means or other, it still retains the power of announcing the visit of a friend; at least, so says the mountain farmer's wife.

The good-wife in North Wales, when the cock comes to the door-sill and there crows many times in succession, tells her children that "Some one is coming to visit us, I wonder who it is." Before nightfall a friend drops in, and he is informed that he was expected, that the cock had crowed time after time by the door, and that it was no good sending him away, for he would come back and crow and crow, "and now," adds she, "you have come." "Is it not strange," says the good woman, "that he never makes a mistake," and then follows a word of praise for chanticleer, which the stranger endorses.

However much the hospitable liked to hear their cock crow in the day time, he was not to crow at night. But it was formerly believed that at the crowing of the cock, fairies, spirits, ghosts, and goblins rushed to their dread abodes. Puck was to meet the Fairy King, "ere the first cock crow."



Cock-fighting.

Cock-fighting was once common in Wales, and it was said that the most successful cock-fighters fought the bird that resembled the colour of the day when the conflict took place; thus, the blue game-cock was brought out on cloudy days, black when the atmosphere was inky in colour, black-red on sunny days, and so on.

Charms for cocks have already been mentioned (p. 267). These differed in different places. In Llansantffraid, Montgomeryshire, a crumb from the communion table, taken therefrom at midnight following the administration of the Holy Communion, was an infallible charm. This was placed in the socket of the steel spur, which was then adjusted to the natural spur.—Bye-Gones, vol. i., p. 88.



The Goose.

Should a goose lay a soft egg, a small egg, or two eggs in a day, it is a sign of misfortune to the owner of that goose.

An old woman in Llandrinio parish, Montgomeryshire, who lived in a cottage by the side of the Severn, and who possessed a breed of geese that laid eggs and hatched twice a year, when I asked her the time that geese should begin to lay, said:—

Before St. Valentine's Day Every good goose will lay.

and she added:—

By St. Chad, Every good goose, and bad.

St. Chad's Day is March the 2nd.

Mr. Samuel Williams, Fron, Selattyn, gave me the following version of the above ditty:—

On Candlemas Day, Every good goose begins to lay.

Another rendering is:—

Every good goose ought to lay On Candlemas Day.

Candlemas Day is February 2nd.

Geese should sit so as to hatch their young when the moon waxes and not when it wanes, for, otherwise, the goslings would not thrive. The lucky one in the family should place the eggs for hatching under the goose or hen.

For the following paragraph I am indebted to "Ffraid," a writer in Bye-Gones, vol. i., p. 88:—

"The goose is thought to be a silly bird, and hence the expression, 'You silly goose,' or 'You stupid goose,' as applied to a person. The falling snow is believed to be the effect of celestial goose-feathering, and the patron of geese—St. Michael—is supposed to be then feathering his proteges. The first goose brought to table is called a Michaelmas goose; a large annual fair at Llanrhaiadr-yn-Mochnant is called 'Ffair y cwarter Gwydd,' the quarter goose fair. Seven geese on grass land are supposed to eat as much grass as will keep a cow. Permanent grass land is called 'Tir Gwydd,' goose land. A bed of goose feathers is required to complete a well-furnished house. The fat of geese, called 'goose-oil,' is a recipe for many ailments. A small bone in the head of a goose, called the 'goose's tooth,' is carried in the pocket for luck, and is a sure preventative against toothache."

Much of the above paragraph is common to most parts of Wales, but the writer used to be told, when he was a lad, that the snow was caused by "the old woman feathering her geese," and a Michaelmas goose was called a green goose, as well as a "Michaelmas goose."



The Crow.

The crow figures much in Welsh folk-lore. In many ways he is made to resemble the magpie; thus, when one crow or one magpie was seen, it was thought to foretell misfortune, as implied by the saying:—

Un fran ddu, Lwc ddrwg i mi.

But should the spectator shout out in a defiant way:—

Hen fran ddu, Gras Duw i mi,

no harm would follow. The former lines in English would be:—

One crow I see, Bad luck to me.

But this foretold evil, brought about by the old black crow, could be counteracted by repeating the following words, (a translation of the second couplet), with a pause between each line, and thus the last line would assume the form of a prayer:—

Old Black Crow! God, grace bestow;

or the evil could be hurled back upon the Old Black Crow by the repetition of these words:—

Hen fran ddu, Gras Duw i mi, Lwc ddrwg i ti.

Freely translated, these lines would be:—

Old Black Crow! God's grace to me, Bad luck to thee.

In the English-speaking parts of Wales, such as along the borders of Montgomeryshire, adjoining Shropshire, I have heard the following doggerel lines substituted for the Welsh:—

Crow, crow, get out of my sight, Before I kill thee to-morrow night.

The bad luck implied by the appearance of one crow could also be overcome, as in the case of the magpie, by making a cross on the ground, with finger or stick.

Although one crow implied bad luck, two crows meant good luck; thus we have these lines:—

Dwy fran ddu, Lwc dda i mi.

Two black crows, Good luck to me.

Many prognostications were drawn from the appearance of crows. A crow seen on the highest branch of a tree implied that the person seeing it should shortly see his or her sweetheart. The manner in which they flew foretold a wedding or a burying. When they fly in a long line there is to be a wedding, if crowded together a funeral.

There is a common expression in Montgomeryshire—"Dwy fran dyddyn"—"The two crows of the farm"—just as if each farm had its two crows, either as guardians of the farm—for two crows implied good luck—or as if they were located by couples in various places, which places became their feeding ground and homes. This, however, is not true of rooks, which feed in flocks and roost in flocks.



Crows' Feathers.

In Montgomeryshire it was, at one time, supposed that if a person picked up a crow's feather he was sure to meet a mad dog before the day was over.

But in other parts it was considered lucky to find a crow's feather, if, when found, it were stuck on end into the ground. This superstition lingered long in Llanfihangel Glyn Myfyr, a remote, hilly parish in Denbighshire.

Some years ago, crows' wing or tail feathers could be seen stuck upright in the ground in many parts of Wales, but at present such a thing cannot be seen. The practice and the superstition have come to an end.



A Rookery deserted was a sign of bad luck, but when they nested near a house it was a sign of good luck.

The writer visited, in the year 1887, a gentleman's park, where for generations the rooks had made a lodgment, and by several persons his attention was called to the ominous fact that the rooks had left the ancestral trees which ornamented the spacious and well-wooded park, and had even carried their nests away with them. He was informed that the desertion boded no good to the highly respected family that occupied that ancient seat.

The writer also visited a friend, who lives in an ancient abode, a mile or two from the rook-rejected park, and, with a smile, he was informed by the lady of the house that a colony of rooks had taken possession of the trees that surrounded her house. He gladly wished her luck, to which she responded—"It has been a long time coming."

Both these places are in East Denbighshire.

The writer remembers a case in which a rookery was deserted just before misfortune fell upon the gentleman who occupied the house around which grew the trees occupied by the rooks. This gentleman one morning noticed the rooks carrying away their nests to a new home. Se called his servant man to him, and desired him to go after the rooks and destroy their nests in their new abode, in the fond hope that they would thus be induced to return to their old home. This was done more than once, but the rooks would not take the hint; they persisted in gathering up the scattered sticks that strewed the ground, but these they replaced in the trees above, which now had become their new home. When it was found that they would not return, the man desisted, and his master, as he had feared, met with dire misfortune shortly afterwards (see p. 304).



The Cuckoo. Y Gog.

The cuckoo is a sacred bird. It is safe from the gamekeeper's gun. Its advent is welcomed with pleasure. "Have you heard the cuckoo?" is a question put by the fortunate person who first hears its notes to every person he meets. When it is ascertained that the cuckoo has arrived, parents give their children pence for luck, and they themselves take care not to leave their houses with empty pockets, for should they do so, those pockets, if the cuckoo is heard, will be empty all the year. Those who hear the cuckoo for the first time thrust immediately their hand in their pockets, and turn their money, or toss a piece into the air, and all this is for luck for the coming year ushered in by the cheering sound of the cuckoo's notes.

It is believed that the cuckoo is in our country for several days before its welcome two notes are heard, and that the cause of its huskiness is, that it is tired, and has not cleared its voice by sucking birds' eggs.

Generally the cuckoo is heard for the first time yearly about the same place, and the hill tops not far from the abodes of man are its favourite resort. Thus we have the ditty:—

Cynta' lle y can y cogydd, Yw y fawnog ar y mynydd.

The place where first the cuckoo sings, Is by the peat pits on the hills.

The cuckoo is supposed to be accompanied by the wry-neck, hence its name, "Gwas-y-gog," the cuckoo's servant. The wryneck was thought to build the nest, and hatch and feed the young of the cuckoo.

Many superstitions cluster round the cuckoo; thus, should a person be in doubt as to the way to take, when going from home, to secure success in life, he, or she, waits for the cuckoo's return, and then should the bird be heard for the first time, singing towards the east, as it flies, that is the direction to take, or any other direction as the case may be; and it is, or was, even thought that the flight of the cuckoo, singing as it flies before a person, for the first time in the year, indicated a change of abode for that person, and the new home lay in the direction in which the cuckoo flew.

Should the cuckoo make its appearance before the leaves appear on the hawthorn bush, it is a sign of a dry, barren year.

Os can y gog ar ddrain-llwyn llwm, Gwerth dy geffyl a phryn dy bwn.

If the cuckoo sings on a hawthorn bare, Sell thy horse, and thy pack prepare.

The Welsh words I heard at Llanuwchllyn, a good many years ago, just as the cuckoo's voice was heard for the first time in those parts, and there were then no leaves out on the hedgerows. I do not recollect whether the prophecy became true, but it was an aged Welshman that made use of the words. Another version of the same is heard in Llanwddyn parish:—

Os can y gog ar bincyn llwm, Gwerth dy geffyl a phryn dy bwn.

If the cuckoo sings on a sprig that's bare, Sell thy horse, and thy pack prepare.

The latter ditty suits a hilly country, and the former applies to the low lands where there are hedgerows.

The early singing of the cuckoo implies a plentiful crop of hay, and this belief is embodied in the following ditty:—

Mis cyn Clamme can y coge, Mis cyn Awst y cana' inne.

That is:—

If the cuckoo sings a month before May-day, I will sing a month before August.

Calan Mai, May-day, abbreviated to Clamme, according to the Old Style, corresponds with our 12th of May, and the above saying means, that there would be such an abundant hay harvest if the cuckoo sang a month before May-day, that the farmer would himself sing for joy on the 12th of July. It was the custom in the uplands of Wales to begin the hay harvest on the 1st of July.

The above I heard in Montgomeryshire, and also the following:—

Mis cyn Clamme can y coge, Mis cyn hynny tyf mriallu.

That is:—

If the cuckoo sings a month before May-day,

Primroses will grow a month before that time.

I do not know what this means, unless it implies that early primroses foretell an early summer.

But, speaking of the song of the cuckoo, we have the following lines:—

Amser i ganu ydi Ebrill a Mai, A hanner Mehefin, chwi wyddoch bob rhai.

This corresponds somewhat with the English:—

The cuckoo sings in April, The cuckoo sings in May, The cuckoo sings to the middle of June, And then she flies away.

In Mochdre parish, Montgomeryshire, I was told the following:—

In May she sings all day, In June she's out of tune.

The following Welsh lines show that the cuckoo will not sing when the hay harvest begins:—

Pan welith hi gocyn, Ni chanith hi gwcw.

When she sees a heap, Silence she will keep.

In certain parts of Wales, such as Montgomeryshire, bordering on Shropshire, it is thought that the cuckoo never sings after Midsummer-day. This faith finds corroborative support in the following lines:—

The cuckoo sings in April, The cuckoo sings in May, The cuckoo sings in Midsummer, But never on that day.

In Flintshire, in Hawarden parish, it is believed that she mates in June, as shown by these words:—

The cuckoo comes in April, The cuckoo sings in May, The cuckoo mates in June, And in July she flies away.

In Montgomeryshire I have often heard these lines:—

The cuckoo is a fine bird, She sings as she flies, She brings us good tidings, And never tells us lies; She sucks young birds' eggs, To make her voice clear, And the more she sings "Cuckoo," The summer is quite near.

The last two lines are varied thus:—

And then she sings, "Cuckoo" Three months in every year.

Or:—

And when she sings "Cuckoo" The summer is near.

The cuckoo was credited with sucking birds' eggs, to make room for her own, as well as to acquire a clear voice. Perhaps the rustic belief is at fault here. The writer has seen a cuckoo rise from the ground with an egg in her mouth, but he has seen it stated that the cuckoo always lays her eggs on the ground, and carries them in her mouth until she discovers a nest wherein to deposit them, and when she has done this her mother's care is over.



A White Cock.

A white cock was looked upon as an unlucky bird, thus:—

Na chadw byth yn nghylch dy dy, Na cheiliog gwyn, na chath ddu.

Never keep about thy house, A white cock, nor black cat.



Crane.

The crane is often mistaken for the heron. When the crane flies against the stream, she asks for rain, when with the stream she asks for fair weather.

This bird is said to be thin when the moon wanes, and fat at the waxing of the moon.



Ducks.

When ducks sportively chase each other through the water, and flap their wings and dive about, in evident enjoyment of their pastime, it is a sign that rain is not far off.



Eagle.

Persons who had eaten eagle's flesh had power to cure erysipelas, and this virtue was said by some to be transmitted to their descendants for ever, whilst others affirmed it only lasted for nine generations. See page 263, where this subject is fully treated.



The Goat Sucker.

A curious notion prevailed respecting this bird, arrived at, presumably, in consequence of its peculiar name—the goat sucker—viz., that it lives on the milk of the goat, which it obtains by sucking the teats of that animal.



Putting Hens to Sit.

Placing the eggs in the nest for hens, geese, and ducks to sit on was considered an important undertaking. This was always done by the lucky member of the family. It was usual to put fowl to sit so as to get the chick out of the egg at the waxing, and not at the waning, of the moon. It was thought that the young birds were strong or weak according to the age of the moon when they were hatched.

March chickens were always considered the best. A game bird hatched in March was thought to be stronger and more plucky than those that broke their shells in any other month, and, further, to obtain all extraneous advantages, that bird which was hatched at full moon began life with very good prospects.

A singular custom prevailed at Llansantffraid, Montgomeryshire, when putting hens, and other fowl, to sit. I obtained the information from the late Vicar, the Rev. R. H. M. Hughes, M.A., an observant gentleman, who took a lively interest in all matters connected with his parish. I was staying with him, and he made the remark that in his parish it was considered lucky to place the hen, when she first began to sit, with her head towards the church. This the cottagers in the village could easily do, for the parish church was in their midst. I do not know whether this kind of proceeding prevailed in other places.

The number of eggs placed under a hen varied with her size, but one general rule was followed, viz., an odd number of eggs was always placed under her; eleven or thirteen was the usual number, but never ten or twelve.



The Heron.

The heron as it flies slowly towards the source of a river is said to be going up the river to bring the water down, in other words, this flight is a sign of coming rain. The same thing is said of the crane.



Fable of why the Heron frequents the banks of rivers and lakes.

It is from thirty to forty years ago that I heard the fable I am about to relate, and the circumstances under which I heard it are briefly as follows. I was walking towards Bangor from Llanllechid, when I saw a farmer at work hedging. I stopped to chat with him, and a bramble which had fastened itself on his trousers gave him a little trouble to get it away, and the man in a pet said, "Have I not paid thee thy tithe?" "Why do you say those words, Enoch?" said I, and he said, "Have you not heard the story?" I confessed my ignorance, and after many preliminary remarks, the farmer related the following fable:—

The heron, the cat, and the bramble bought the tithe of a certain parish. The heron bought the hay, mowed it, harvested it, and cocked it, and intended carrying it the following day, but in the night a storm came on, and carried the hay away, and ever since then the heron frequents the banks of the rivers and lakes, looking for her hay that was carried away, and saying "Pay me my tithe."

The cat bought the oats, cut them, and even threshed them, and left them in the barn, intending the following day to take them to the market for sale. But when she went into the barn, early the next morning, she found the floor covered with rats and mice, which had devoured the oats, and the cat flew at them and fought with them, and drove them from the barn, and this is why she is at enmity with rats and mice even to our day.

The bramble bought the wheat, and was more fortunate than the heron and cat, for the wheat was bagged, and taken to the market and sold, but sold on trust, and the bramble never got the money, and this is why it takes hold of everyone and says "Pay me my tithe," for it forgot to whom the wheat had been sold.



The Jackdaw.

This bird is considered sacred, because it frequents church steeples and builds its nest there, and it is said to be an innocent bird, though given to carrying off things and hiding them in out-of-the-way places. When ignorance of a fault is pleaded, it is a common saying—"I have no more knowledge of the fact than the Devil has of the jackdaw" (see Bye-Gones, Vol. I., 86). The Devil evidently will have nothing to do with this bird, because it makes its home in the church steeple, and he hates the church and everything belonging to it.



The Magpie.

The magpie was considered a bird of ill-omen. No one liked to see a magpie when starting on a journey, but in certain parts of Montgomeryshire, such as the parish of Llanwnog, if the magpie flew from left to right it foretold good luck; in other parts, such as Llansantffraid, if seen at all, it was considered a sign of bad luck.

However, fortunately, a person could make void this bad luck, for he had only to spit on the ground, and make a cross with his finger, or stick, through the spittle, and boldly say—

"Satan, I defy thee,"

and the curse, or bad luck, indicated by the appearance of the magpie, could not then come.

The number of magpies seen implied different events. It was a common saying:—

One's grief, two's mirth, Three's a marriage, four's a birth;

and another rendering of the above heard in Montgomeryshire was:—

One for bad luck, Two for good luck, Three for a wedding, Four for a burying.

Another ditty is as follows:—

One's joy, two's greet (crying), Three's a wedding, four's a sheet (death).

As stated above, one is grief, or bad luck, if it flies from right to left, but if from left to right it implied success or joy. So these various readings can only be reconciled by a little verbal explanation, but "four's a birth" cannot be made to be an equivalent to "four's a sheet," a winding sheet, or a burying, by any amount of ingenuity.

Should a magpie be seen stationary on a tree, it was believed that the direction in which it took its flight foretold either success or disaster to the person who observed it. If it flew to the left, bad luck was to follow; if to the right, good luck; if straight, the journey could be undertaken, provided the bird did not turn to the left whilst in sight, but disappeared in that direction.

I heard the following tale in Denbighshire:—In days of old, a company of men were stealthily making their way across the country to come upon the enemy unawares. All at once they espied a magpie on a tree, and by common consent they halted to see which way it would take its flight, and thus foretell the fortune which would attend their journey. One of the party, evidently an unbeliever in his comrades' superstition, noiselessly approached the bird, and shot it dead, to the great horror of his companions. The leader of the party, in great anger, addressed the luckless archer—"You have shot the bird of fate, and you shall be shot." The dauntless man said, "I shot the magpie, it is true, but if it could foretell our fate, why could it not foresee its own?" The archer's reasoning was good, but I do not know whether people were convinced by logic in those distant times, any more than they are in ours.

I will relate one other tale of the magpie, which I heard upwards of twenty years ago in the parish of Llanwnog, Montgomeryshire.

I was speaking to a farmer's wife—whose name it is not necessary to give, as it has nothing to do with the tale—when a magpie flew across our view. "Ah!" she ejaculated, "you naughty old thing, what do you want here?" "I see," said I, "you think she brings bad luck with her." "Oh, yes," was the response, "I know she does." "What makes you so positive," said I, "that she brings bad luck with her?" My question elicited the following story. My friend commenced:—"You know the brook at the bottom of the hill. Well, my mother met with very bad luck there, a good many years ago, and it was in this way—she was going to Newtown fair, on our old horse, and she had a basket of eggs with her. But, just as she was going to leave the 'fould,' a magpie flew before her. We begged of her not to go that day—that bad luck would attend her. She would not listen to us, but started off. However, she never got further than the brook, at the bottom of the hill, for, when she got there, the old mare made straight for the brook, and jerked the bridle out of mother's hand, and down went the mare's head to drink, and off went the basket, and poor mother too. All the eggs were broken, but I'm glad to say mother was not much the worse for her fall. But ever since then I know it is unlucky to see a magpie. But sir," she added, "there is no bad luck for us to-day, for the magpie flew from left to right."

The magpie was thought to be a great thief, and it was popularly supposed that if its tongue were split into two with silver it could talk like a man.

The cry of the magpie is a sign of rain. To man its dreaded notes indicated disaster, thus:—

Clyw grechwen nerth pen, iaith pi—yn addaw Newyddion drwg i mi.

List! the magpie's hoarse and bitter cry Shows that misfortune's sigh is nigh.

If this bird builds her nest at the top of a tree the summer will be dry; if on the lower branches, the summer will be wet.



The Owl.

The hooting of an owl about a house was considered a sign of ill luck, if not of death. This superstition has found a place in rhyme, thus:—

Os y ddylluan ddaw i'r fro, Lle byddo rhywun afiach Dod yno i ddweyd y mae'n ddinad, Na chaiff adferiad mwyach. If an owl comes to those parts, Where some one sick is lying, She comes to say without a doubt, That that sick one is dying.



Peacock.

The peacock's shrill note is a sign of rain. Its call is supposed to resemble the word gwlaw, the Welsh for rain.



Pigeon.

If the sick asks for a pigeon pie, or the flesh of a pigeon, it is a sign that his death is near.

If the feathers of a pigeon be in a bed, the sick cannot die on it.



The Raven.

The raven has ever enjoyed a notoriously bad name as a bird of ill-omen.

He was one of those birds which the Jews were to have in abomination (Lev., xi., 5-13).

But other nations besides the Jews dreaded the raven.

The raven himself is hoarse That croaks the fatal entrance of Duncan under thy battlements.

Macbeth, Act i., s. 5.

Thus wrote Shakespeare, giving utterance to a superstition then common. From these words it would seem that the raven was considered a sign of evil augury to a person whose house was about to be entered by a visitor, for his croaking forebode treachery. But the raven's croaking was thought to foretell misfortune to a person about to enter another's house. If he heard the croaking he had better turn back, for an evil fate awaited him.

In Denmark the appearance of a raven in a village is considered an indication that the parish priest is to die, or that the church is to be burnt down that year. (Notes and Queries, vol. ii., second series, p. 325.) The Danes of old prognosticated from the appearance of the raven on their banners the result of a battle. If the banner flapped, and exhibited the raven as alive, it augured success; if, however, it moved not, defeat awaited them.

In Welsh there is a pretty saying:—

Duw a ddarpar i'r fran.

God provides for the raven.

But this, after all, is only another rendering of the lovely words:—

Your heavenly Father feedeth them.

Such words imply that the raven is a favoured bird. (See p. 304).



Robin Redbreast.

Ill luck is thought to follow the killer of dear Robin Redbreast, the children's winter friend. No one ever shoots Robin, nor do children rob its nest, nor throw stones at it. Bad luck to anyone who does so. The little bird with its wee body endeavoured to staunch the blood flowing from the Saviour's side, and it has ever since retained on its breast the stain of His sacred blood, and it consequently enjoys a sacred life. It is safe from harm wherever English is spoken.

There is another legend, which is said to be extant in Carmarthenshire, accounting for the Robin's red breast. It is given in Bye-Gones, vol. i., p. 173, from Mr. Hardwick's Traditions, Superstitions, Folk-lore, etc.:—"Far, far away, is a land of woe, darkness, spirits of evil, and fire. Day by day does the little bird bear in its 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 is he named Bronchuddyn (qu. Bronrhuddyn), 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 the other birds. He shivers in brumal blasts, and hungry he chirps before your door. Oh, my child, then, in pity throw a few crumbs to poor red-breast."



The Sea Gull.

It is believed that when sea gulls leave the sea for the mountains it is a sign of stormy weather.

A few years ago I was walking from Corwen to Gwyddelwern, and I overtook an aged man, and we entered into conversation. Noticing the sea gulls hovering about, I said, there is going to be a storm. The answer of my old companion was, yes, for the sea gull says before starting from the sea shore:—

Drychin, drychin, Awn i'r eithin;

and then when the storm is over, they say one to the other, before they take their flight back again to the sea:—

Hindda, hindda, Awn i'r morfa.

which first couplet may be translated:—

Foul weather, foul weather, Let's go to the heather;

and then the two last lines may be rendered:—

The storm is no more, Let's go to the shore.

This was the only occasion when I heard the above stanza, and I have spoken to many aged Welshmen, and they had not heard the words, but every one to whom I spoke believed that the sea gulls seen at a distance from the sea was a sign of foul weather.



The Swallow.

The joy with which the first swallow is welcomed is almost if not quite equal to the welcome given to the cuckoo. "One swallow does not make a summer" is an old saw.

There is a superstition connected with the swallow that is common in Wales, which is, that if it forsakes its old nest on a house, it is a sign of ill luck to that house. But swallows rarely forsake their old nests, and shortly after their arrival they are busily engaged in repairing the breaches, which the storms of winter or mischievous children have made in their abodes; and their pleasant twitterings are a pleasure to the occupants of the house along which they build their nests, for the visit is a sign of luck.

The flight of the swallow is a good weather sign. When the swallow flies high in the air, it is a sign of fair weather; when, on the other hand, it skims the earth, it is a sign of rain.

It was a great misfortune to break a swallow's nest, for—

Y neb a doro nyth y wenol, Ni wel fwyniant yn dragwyddol.

Whoever breaks a swallow's nest, Shall forfeit everlasting rest.



The Swan.

The eggs of the swan are hatched by thunder and lightning. This bird sings its own death song.



The Swift.

This bird's motions are looked upon as weather signs. Its feeding regions are high up in the air when the weather is settled for fair, and low down when rain is approaching.

Its screaming is supposed to indicate a change of weather from fair to rain.



Tit Major, or Sawyer.

The Rev. E. V. Owen, Vicar of Llwydiarth, Montgomeryshire, told me that the Tit's notes are a sign of rain, at least, that it is so considered in his parish. The people call the bird "Sawyer," and they say its notes resemble in sound the filing of a saw. A man once said to my friend:—"I dunna like to hear that old sawyer whetting his saw." "Why not," said Mr. Owen. "'Cause it'll rain afore morning," was the answer. This bird, if heard in February, when the snow or frost is on the ground, indicates a breaking up of the weather. Its sharp notes rapidly repeated several times in succession are welcome sounds in hard weather, for they show that spring is coming.



The Wren.

The Wren's life is sacred, excepting at one time of the year, for should anyone take this wee birdie's life away, upon him some mishap will fall. The wren is classed with the Robin:—

The robin and the wren Are God's cock and hen.

The cruel sport of hunting the wren on St. Stephen's Day, which the writer has a dim recollection of having in his boyhood joined in, was the one time in the year when the wren's life was in jeopardy.

The Rev. Silvan Evans, in a letter to the Academy, which has been reproduced in Bye-Gones, vol. vii., p. 206, alludes to this sport in these words:—

"Something similar to the 'hunting of the wren' was not unknown to the Principality as late as about a century ago, or later. In the Christmas holidays it was the custom of a certain number of young men, not necessarily boys, to visit the abodes of such couples as had been married within the year. The order of the night—for it was strictly a nightly performance—was to this effect. Having caught a wren, they placed it on a miniature bier made for the occasion, and carried it in procession towards the house which they intended to visit. Having arrived they serenaded the master and mistress of the house under their bedroom window with the following doggerel:—

Dyma'r dryw, Os yw e'n fyw, Neu dderyn to I gael ei rostio.

That is:—

Here is the wren, If he is alive, Or a sparrow To be roasted.

If they could not catch a wren for the occasion, it was lawful to substitute a sparrow (ad eryn to). The husband, if agreeable, would then open the door, admit the party, and regale them with plenty of Christmas ale, the obtaining of which being the principal object of the whole performance."

The second line in the verse, "Os yw e'n fyw," intimates that possibly the wren is dead—"If he is alive." This would generally be the case, as it was next to impossible to secure the little thing until it had been thoroughly exhausted, and then the act of pouncing upon it would itself put an end to its existence.

Perhaps the English doggerel was intended to put an end to this cruel sport, by intimating that the wee bird belonged to God, was one of His creatures, and that therefore it should not be abused.

There is a Welsh couplet still in use:—

Pwy bynnag doro nyth y dryw, Ni chaiff ef weled wyneb Duw.

Whoever breaks a wren's nest, Shall never see God's face.

This saying protects the snug little home of the wren. Much the same thing is said of the Robin's nest, but I think this was put, "Whoever robs a robin's nest shall go to hell."

Another Welsh couplet was:—

Y neb a doro nyth y dryw, Ni chaiff iechyd yn ei fyw.

Whoever breaks the wren's nest, Shall never enjoy good health.

Although the robin and the wren were favourites of heaven, still it was supposed that they were under some kind of curse, for it was believed that the robin could not fly through a hedge, it must always fly over, whilst on the other hand, the wren could not fly over a hedge, but it was obliged to make its way through it. (See Robin, p. 329).



The Wood Pigeon.

The thrice repeated notes of five sounds, with an abrupt note at the end, of which the cooing of the wood pigeon consists, have been construed into words, and these words differ in different places, according to the state of the country, and the prevailing sentiments of the people. Of course, the language of the wood pigeon is always the language of the people amongst whom he lives. He always speaks Welsh in Wales, and English in England, but in these days this bird is so far Anglicised that it blurts out English all along the borders of Wales.

In the cold spring days, when food is scarce and the wood pigeon cold, it forms good resolutions, and says:—

Yn yr haf Ty a wnaf; Gwnaf.

In the summer I'll make a house; I will.

However, when the summer has come with flower, and warmth, the wood pigeon ridicules its former resolution and changes its song, for in June it forgets January, and now it asks:—

Yn yr ha' Ty pwy wna'? Pwy?

In the summer Who'll make a house? Who?

For then a house is quite unnecessary, and the trouble to erect one great. The above ditty was told me by the Rev. John Williams, Rector of Newtown, a native of Flintshire.

In the English counties bordering upon Wales, such as Herefordshire, the wood pigeon encouraged Welshmen to drive off Englishmen's cattle to their homes, by saying:—

Take two cows, Taffy, Take two cows, Taffy, Take two.

and ever since those days the same song is used; but another version is:—

Take two cows Davy, Take two cows Davy, Two.

The late Rev. R. Williams, Rector of Llanfyllin, supplied me with the above, and he stated that he obtained it from Herefordshire.

In the uplands of Denbighshire the poor wood pigeon has a hard time of it in the winter, and, to make provision for the cold winter days, he, when he sees the farmer sowing spring seeds, says:—

Dyn du, dyn da, Hau pys, hau ffa, Hau ffacbys i ni Fwyta.

which rendered into English is:—

Black man, good man, Sow peas, sow beans, Sow vetches for us To eat.

Mr. Hugh Jones, Pentre Llyn Cymmer, a farmer in Llanfihangel Glyn Myfyr, a descendant of the bard Robert Davies, Nantglyn, supplied me with the preceding ditty.



The Magpie teaching a Wood Pigeon how to make a nest.

The wood pigeon makes an untidy nest, consisting of a few bits of twigs placed one on the other without much care. There is a fable in the Iolo MSS., p. 159, in Welsh, and the translation appears on page 567 in English, as follows:—

The magpie, observing the slight knowledge of nest building possessed by the wood pigeon, kindly undertook the work of giving his friend a lesson in the art, and as the lesson proceeded, the wood pigeon, bowing, cooed out:—

Mi wn! Mi wn! Mi wn!

I know! I know! I know!

The instructor was at first pleased with his apt pupil, and proceeded with his lesson, but before another word could be uttered, the bird swelling with pride at its own importance and knowledge, said again:—

I know! I know! I know!

The magpie was annoyed at this ignorant assurance, and with bitter sarcasm said: "Since you know, do it then," and this is why the wood pigeon's nest is so untidy in our days. In its own mind it knew all about nest building, and was above receiving instruction, and hence its present clumsy way of building its nest. This fable gave rise to a proverb, "As the wood pigeon said to the magpie: 'I know.'"

It is believed that when wood pigeons are seen in large flocks it is a sign of foul weather.



Woodpecker.

The woodpecker's screech was a sign of rain. This bird is called by two names in Welsh which imply that it foretold storms; as, Ysgrech y coed, the wood screech, and Caseg y drycin, the storm mare.

These names have found a place in Welsh couplets:—

"Ysgrech y coed! Mae'r gwlaw yn dod."

The Woodpecker's cry! The rain is nigh.

Bardd Nantglyn, Robert Davies, Nantglyn, has an englyn to the woodpecker:—

"I Gaseg y Drycin."

"Och! rhag Caseg, greg rwygiant,—y drycin, Draw accw yn y ceunant, Ar fol pren, uwch pen pant, Cyn 'storm yn canu 'sturmant."

Barddoniaeth R. Davies, p. 61.

My friend Mr. Richard Williams, Celynog, Newtown, translates this stanza as follows:—

Ah! 'tis the hoarse note of the Woodpecker, In yonder ravine, On the round trunk of a tree, above the hollow, Sounding his horn before the coming storm.

Yellow Hammer. (Penmelyn yr Eithin).

There is a strange belief in Wales that this bird sacrifices her young to feed snakes.



Ass.

The stripe over the shoulders of the ass is said to have been made by our Lord when He rode into Jerusalem on an ass, and ever since the mark remains.

It was thought that the milk of an ass could cure the "decay," or consumption. This faith was common fifty years ago in Llanidloes, Montgomeryshire. I do not know whether it is so now. People then believed that ass's milk was more nutritious than other kind of food for persons whose constitutions were weak.



The Bee.

The little busy bee has been from times of old an object of admiration and superstition. It is thought that they are sufficiently sensitive to feel a slight, and sufficiently vindictive to resent one, and as they are too valuable to be carelessly provoked to anger, they are variously propitiated by the cottager when their wrath is supposed to have been roused. It is even thought that they take an interest in human affairs; and it is, therefore, considered expedient to give them formal notice of certain occurrences.



Buying a Hive of Bees.

In the central parts of Denbighshire people suppose that a hive of bees, if bought, will not thrive, but that a present of a hive leads to its well-doing.

A cottager in Efenechtyd informed the writer that a friend gave her the hive she had, and that consequently she had had luck with it; but, she added, "had I bought it, I could not have expected anything from it, for bought hives do badly." This was in the centre of Denbighshire.



Time of Bee Swarming.

The month in which bees swarm is considered of the greatest importance, and undoubtedly it is so, for the sooner they swarm, the longer their summer, and therefore the greater the quantity of honey which they will accumulate. A late swarm cannot gather honey from every opening flower, because the flower season will have partly passed away before they leave their old home.

This faith has found expression in the following lines:—

A swarm of bees in May Is worth a load of hay; A swarm of bees in June Is worth a silver spoon; A swarm of bees in July Is not worth a fly.

These words are often uttered by cottagers when a swarm takes place in the respective months named in the lines. It is really very seldom that a swarm takes place in our days in May, and many a swarm takes place in July which is of more value than a fly, But however, be this as it may, the rhyme expresses the belief of many people.



The Day of Swarming.

Sunday is the favourite day for bee swarming. Country people say, when looking at their bees clustering outside the hive, and dangling like a rope from it, "Oh, they won't swarm until next Sunday," and it is true that they are often right in their calculations, for bees seem to prefer the peaceful Day of Rest to all other days for their flight. The kettle and pan beating are often heard of a Sunday in those parts of the country where bees are reared. It is possible that the quietness of the day, and the cessation of every-day noise, is appreciated by the little creatures, and that this prevailing stillness entices them to take then their flight from their old home to seek a new one.



Luck comes with a Strange Swarm.

It is considered very lucky indeed to find that a strange swarm of bees has arrived in the garden, or tree, belonging to a cottager. The advent of the bees is joyfully welcomed, and the conversation of the neighbours on such an occasion intimates that they think that good fortune has come with them to the person whom they have condescended to honour with their presence.

Occasionally, if bees settle down on property of doubtful ownership, a good deal of wrangling and bad feeling arises between the rival claimants for their possession.



It is considered unlucky for Bees to fly away from their owner.

As the coming of a strange swarm of bees is indicative of good luck to the person to whom they come, so the decamping of a swarm shows that misfortune is about to visit the person whom they leave.



Bees in a Roof.

It was thought lucky when bees made their home in the roof, or indeed in any part of a house, and this they could easily do when houses were thatched with straw. Many a swarm of bees found shelter in the roofs of ancient churches, but in our days bees are seldom found in either houses or churches.



Informing Bees of a Death in a Family.

Formerly it was the custom to tell the bees of a death in the family. The head of the house whispered the news to the bees in the hive. If this were neglected, it was thought that another death would soon follow the previous one. Instead of speaking to the bees, it was the custom, in some parts of Wales, to turn the bee-hive round before starting the funeral. This was always done by the representative of the family, and it also was thought to be a protection against death.

Mrs. Jones, Rhydycroesau Rectory, informed me that an old man, David Roberts of Llanyblodwel, once came to her in deep grief, after the funeral of his grandchild, because he had forgotten to turn the bee-hive before the funeral started for the church. He said that he was in such distress at the loss of the child, that he had neglected to tell the bees of the death, and, said he, some other member of the family is now sure to go. He informed Mrs. Jones that he had turned the hive at the death of his old woman, and that consequently no death had followed hers in his family.



Putting Bees in Mourning.

This is done after a death in a family, and the bees are put into mourning by tying a piece of black ribbon on a bit of wood, and inserting it into the hole at the top of the hive.



Stolen Bees.

It was believed that stolen bees would not make honey, and that the hive which had been stolen would die.



A Swarm entering a House.

Should a swarm enter a house, it was considered unlucky, and usually it was a sign of death to someone living in that house.

The culture of bees was once more common than it is, and therefore they were much observed, and consequently they figure in the folk-lore of most nations.



Cat.

The cat was thought to be a capital weather glass. If she stood or lay with her face towards the fire, it was a sign of frost or snow; if she became frisky, bad weather was near. If the cat washed her face, strangers might be expected; and if she washed her face and ears, then rain was sure to come. A black cat was supposed to bring luck to a house, thus:—

Cath ddu, mi glywais dd'wedyd, A fedr swyno hefyd, A chadw'r teulu lle mae'n hyw O afael pob rhyw glefyd.

A black cat, I've heard it said, Can charm all ill away, And keep the house wherein she dwells From fever's deadly sway.

Cats born in May, or May cats, were no favourites. They were supposed to bring snakes or adders into the house. This supposition has found utterance:—

Cathod mis Mai Ddaw a nadrodd i'r tai.

Cats born in May Bring snakes to the house.

In some parts the black cat was otherwise thought of than is stated above, for this injunction is heard:—

Na chadw byth yn nghylch dy dy Na cheiliog gwyn na chath ddu.

Never keep about thy house A white cock or black puss.

Cats are so tenacious of life that they are said to have nine lives. We have already spoken of witches transforming themselves into cats.

A singular superstition connected with cats is the supposition that they indicate the place to which the dead have gone by ascending or descending trees immediately after the death of a person.

The Rev. P. W. Sparling, Rector of Erbistock, informed me that one day a parishioner met him, and told him that his brother, who had lately died, was in hell, and that he wished the Rector to get him out. Mr. Sparling asked him how he knew where his brother was, and in answer the man said that he knew, because he had seen his brother in the form of a white cat descend a tree immediately after his death. On further inquiry, the man stated that since the cat came down the tree, it was a sign that his brother had gone down to hell; but had the cat gone up the tree, it would have shown that he had gone up to heaven.

I have heard it stated, but by whom I have forgotten, that if a black cat leaves a house where a person dies, immediately after that person's death, it shows he has gone to the bad place; but if a white cat, that he has gone to heaven.



Cows.

Cows Kneeling on Christmas Morn.

In the upland parishes of Wales, particularly those in Montgomeryshire, it was said, and that not so long ago, that cows knelt at midnight on Christmas eve, to adore the infant Saviour. This has been affirmed by those who have witnessed the strange occurrence.

Cows bringing forth two calves are believed to bring luck to a farmer; but in some parts of Wales a contrary view is taken of this matter.

If the new born calf is seen by the mistress of the house with its head towards her, as she enters the cowhouse to view her new charge and property, it is a lucky omen, but should any other part of the calf present itself to the mistress's view, it is a sign of bad luck.