Cuckoo-koo, Cuckoo koo.

"I have not been able to ascertain whether this is a kind different from our own, or not; but on the other hand, that there are such cuckoos [kukuckuke] here every year."

I suppose the great maestro is mistaken, and all the cuckoos change their note at a certain period of the year. In my note-book of 1863, I find that I observed the change of the common note on the 9th and 10th of June of that year (in North Yorkshire). An old farmer told me at the same time that it was on account of the approaching rain, which really occurred the days following. The same genial old man, belonging to a class of Englishmen every foreigner must love and esteem, told me at the same time that it was the common belief of country people that the cuckoo clears her voice by sucking the eggs which she steals out of little birds' nests. "Therefore," he added, "you always see him followed by a little bird that will persecute the robber." But Dr. Jenner and the Rev. J. G. Wood tell us, it is not the cuckoo alone that is followed by little birds flying after him, but almost all the birds of the hawk-tribe; to which the famous friend of our childhood-nay, of all periods of life-has a slight resemblance in shape, if not in plumage too. "Now, you see," my old friend further said, "when there are no eggs to be got, and all the little ones begin to fly and to chirp, she can, of course, find no eggs to suck; and then her voice gets lost, or alters altogether." The egg of the cuckoo itself, which I then saw for the first time in my life, is only of the size of that of the skylark, though this sweet bird is not a fourth of the size of the cuckoo! I also find that I have noted down some cuckoo-rhymes, referring to the changing of her note; some of which I heard from old people in the north of old England. The first is by John Heywood, who flourished about 1580:

"In April, the coocoo can sing her song by rote; In June of time, she cannot sing a note;

At first koo-koo, koo-koo, sings still

At last koo-ke, koo-ke, koo-ke: six koo-kees to one koo."

* Louis Spohr's Selbstbiographie, 1860, vol. i. p. 257.

I send you another cutting from the Ashton Reporter. The number for July 18, 1868, contains the following humorous ballad, which, I feel assured, will be welcome to those of your readers who love a ballad in print: ·

"THE GORTON CANDIDATE FOR CONFIRMATION. "In the short-lived Droylsden Literary and Adver

tising Journal, which was issued monthly, there appeared in October, 1854, the following paragraph : —

"Some fifty years ago, a number of candidates for confirmation proceeded from Gorton to the old church to partake of the rite. Some time after their departure brains, nor dreaming of preparation-resolved to follow another Gortonian-apparently not overburdened with

their example. On arriving at the church door the apparitor tried to prevent his entrance, but, being a strong, active lad, he pressed forward and placed himself amongst the candidates. In those days the bishop occasionally questioned the candidates. It so happened that, coming to the intruder, he asked, 'How many commandments are there? Forty,' shouted the youth. My lad,' says the bishop, you are not fit to come here, you must go home.' Accordingly he walked quietly away, and had reached Ardwick Green, when meeting some laggard dialogue occurred :- Neaw lads, where are yo' gooin?' Gortonians going for the same purpose, the following brief Why, mon, o bein' confirmt.' Hey, bur, how many commandments is thur?' Ten.' Thoose winno do. Aw bin theere, un when t' parson ax'd me, aw said forty, un thoose wurno onoo.'

"This version of the affair, which is said to have been a fact, was derived from the then manager of the Gorton Mills, but the source from whence he obtained it is unknown. And now for a singular circumstance. One afternoon in August, 1865, a native of Gorton, but who was and is now in business in Liverpool, observed an apprentice reading a MS. which proved to be a song or recitation called the Confirmation,' detailing in rhyme what is given above in prose. On inquiry, it was found to belong to another employé, Mr. Henry Robinson, who

stated that he had first heard it sung, about twelve years before, by his grandfather, Mr. Robert Sefton of Scarisbrick, who had then been dead about four years. It seems the old gentleman delighted in singing it whenever he had got a little too much.' The grandson, asking for a copy one day, was shortly after supplied with the MS. from which this metrical version of the exploit is now first printed. The document is written in a good round hand, and signed Wm. Reid,' but whether he was the author of it, or merely the scribe who wrote it down from Mr. Sefton's dictation, is at present undetermined. Another copy of the ballad was said to be in existence in Liverpool, but it could not be recovered, although our correspondent did his utmost to ferret it out. The reputed possessor of the duplicate had changed his residence, and his whereabouts could not be discovered. Can any of your readers throw any further light upon the origin and authorship of this local effusion, so singularly rediscovered after having, apparently, long been translated from and lost to its native locality? In the MS., Sefton's or Reid's, from which we transcribe, the narrative is written in fiftynine lines, exclusive of the title, and as though it were a prose composition.

July 14, 1868.

"Ned Clowter lived in Gorton township,

He learned to weave to get his bread; His hands were taught to throw the shuttle, But quite neglected was his head.

"Poor Ned worked hard from week to week's end,
And cared not what the world was doing;
No news he knew but what was local-
Whose cow had calved, or who were brewing.
"Now at the church by law established-

Poor Neddy knew not why or wherefore-
He heard the bishop was confirming

At the parish church: determined therefore

To have a bishop's hand laid on him,

And his mother said it would do much good
To the head of any man or woman,
Or any head not made of wood.

"So Neddy donn'd his Sunday clothes on,

Greased his shoes, and washed his face;
And walked or ran, I know not whether,
To Manchester in search of grace.
"Arrived, he found the old churchyard full;
Amazed the bumpkin stared about him,
Brimful were the rabble, ready

For fun to scoff and shout him.

"At length the church doors opened; but

poor

Was stopped by the wardens at the wicket;
He had not been told, therefore he knew not,
That to be confirmed required a ticket.
"Turned back, poor Ned was whining-sulky:
He liked not to be left in th' lurch;
So he resolved to snatch from some boy
His entrance ticket to the church.

"The deed was done-he gained admission,
And Ned for wardens nothing cared,
But gaped to see so many parsons,
And at the lofty organ stared.

"Straight to the choir the crowd he followed,
And soon stood foremost of the boys;
At the altar steps he took his station
With open mouth and wondering eyes.
"The bishop eyed the stripling weaver,
Till curiosity hard pressed him
To know what thoughts Ned had of duty,
And thus the reverend lord addressed him:

Ned

H.

"Here, you, young man, with mouth wide open,
Who seem with wonder as if charmed,
Pray do you know, boy, why you came here?'
By lack I do! to be confirmed.'

"Of course, young man, you have been instructed,
And know the nature of the rite?'

'Aye, mon?' 'Of course you have been instructed,
And know the nature of the rite?'
'Aye, to be sure! Awm not a natural,

Tho' yo' may think awm not so bright.'

"The bishop asked, 'What is your name?'

Ned twirled his hat, and scratched his head,
"Why, yo seen, aw guess, aws kirsned Yeddart,
But folk ne'er caw me nowt but Ned.'
"How many commandments are there?'

Why, far too monny, fie upon um!
Aw think, but awm no sure o' countin',
There's somewheere about forty on um.'
"The bishop, shocked to hear him say so,
Bid him return for information,
For in his present ignorant state

He durst not give him confirmation. "Towards home Ned crept, sore amazed,

Swearing such usage made him mad: When on the road, quite warm with walking, He met a friend, a neighbour's lad.

"Where, Tum,' said Ned, dost think tha'rt gooin'
With greasy face, like half-fried bacon ? '
To be confirmed,' replied the youngster.
'Confirmed,' said Ned, 'mayhap tha'lt be mistaken.
"How are tha for thy catechism, Tummy,
Did'st larn it at Sunday schoo'?
Without it, mon, they'll not confirm thee.'
'Why, zounds! dos't take me to be a foo'?'
"Aw meant not, Tum,' said Ned, 'to vex thee,
But lad, they soon showed me to t' dor' [dur];
'How many commandments are there?

A pretty joke! Why, ten, to be sure.'
"Ten mon,' said Ned, 'tha'll lose thy labber!
Goo, get the back again to schoo';
Aw said mysel' four times as monny:
Why, forty, lad, wur nor anoo!""

No doubt, if Mr. Harland had been spared to put into execution his intention of publishing the humorous ballads of Lancashire, the above would have been amongst them. No county is richer in this description of folk-song than the County Palatine; and it is to be hoped that Mr. Harland's material may be committed to some competent person, in order that the balladlover may not be deprived of so rich a fund of WILLIAM E. A. AXON.

amusement.

CLEVELAND FOLKLORE.

Should a cow in one of our Cleveland dairies so far and so undesirably anticipate the usual spring calving of the herd as to "pick her cauf" (cast or slink her calf), the untimely calf is still, in some parts of the district, carefully buried beneath the threshold of the cow-byre; the admitted object being to avert the like disaster-one by no means unlikely to befall if a cow should set the bad example-from the rest of the cows in the byre.

As singularly illustrative of this "folklore" usage, I append the following:

:

"The countryfolk in Wärend and North Scania hold, even to the present day, that by burying in the earth a living beast (animal of the ox kind), an effectual remedy is obtained for the so-called svartsjuka or cattlepest (boskapspest), a malady which is believed to originate with the earth-spirits (jordvättarne) or possibly with the dödinges. An instance of this grim superstition has occurred as recently as 1843, in the district of Jönköping."

The dödinge of South Swedish Overhow is the occupant of the modern grave in the churchyard no less than of the grave-hill or Houe of ancient times, and is pictured as a morose, cold, fell, bloodless being, but with the same likings and inclination to indulge them as in the previous earthly existence. Hence, when a bonder dies, the hop-garden is liable to become bewitched (förgjord); in other words, its produce will be abstracted by the departed man's ghost or dödinge. To obviate this the custom is to shoot a roe-deer, and lay it in the hop-yard endangered.

The animal thus shot and buried is an offering to the dödinge, intended as a compensation for the hops, or the ale which the old bonders of the district preferred to ought else."

Here is a plain avowal of what is implied in the extract first given, and of what (of course) lies at the root of the Cleveland practice; namely, the principle of an offering, of a propitiatory or compensating offering, to this or the other personified natural power.

Another Cleveland usage is, when a mare foals, to hang up 66 the cleansings" (the placenta) in a tree, preferably in a thorn, or, failing that, a crabtree; the motive assigned being to secure "luck with the foal." Should the birth take place in the fields, this suspension is carefully attended to, while as for the requirements of such events at the homestead, in not a few instances there is a certain tree not far from the farm-buildings still specially marked out for the reception of these peculiar pendants. In one instance lately, I heard of a larch-tree so devoted, but admittedly in default of the thorn; the old thorn-tree long employed for the purpose having died out. Again, a lamb that is dropped dead, or that dies while still very young, is customarily hung up in a tree -properly in a thorn, though any fruit- or berry. bearing tree will do. In the last case under my notice, the tree was a rowan-tree or mountain-ash. In all these cases the same principle is, I think, beyond question involved. Certainly in the case of the mare, the offering would originally have been to Odin; probably in all cases of suspension on a berry-bearing tree the same may be true. Illustration more than sufficiently copious might in these cases also be adduced from Scandinavian sources, but my object rather is to seek through the readers of "N. & Q." farther home

Duæ tabulæ Moysis, etc. (repetendo.)
Dic mihi quid sint sex?

Sex hydriæ positæ in Cana Galilea.
Quinque prudentes virgines, etc.

Dic mihi quid sint septem?
Septem Sacramenta.

Sex hydriæ positæ, etc.
Dic mihi quid sint octo?
Octo Beatitudines.

Septem Sacramenta, etc.
Dic mihi quid sint novem?
Novem Angelorum chorus.

Octo Beatitudines, etc.
Dic mihi quid sint decem?
Decem præcepta Decalogi.

Novem Angelorum chorus, etc.-
Dic mihi quid sint undecim 2
Undecim millia virginum.

Decem præcepta Decalogi, etc.
Dic mihi quid sint duodecim ?
Duodecim Apostoli: decimus tertius Judas.

Undecim millia virginum," etc.

I learned the above, many years ago, from an aged Dominican friar; and, no doubt, it has long

and often enlivened the hours of conventual re

creation, though it has probably never appeared before in print.

F. C. H.

"A MIDSUMMER-NIGHT'S DREAM."-Judging by not a few of the comments on Shakespeare, it might be thought that a quick sense of humour was not very widely diffused among mankind. The same thought would probably occur to any one who has watched audiences untrained in theatrical representations. The other day, during a forest journey, and while reading A Midsummer-Night's Dream, I had a most hearty laugh, partly at my own stupidity, partly at a most excellent point made by Shakespeare, which had on all previous readings escaped me.

Most have, I suppose, noticed the confusedness of Bottom's intellect, and the dreamy incongruity of his animal thoughts after his partial and capital transformation. As an ass, with perhaps the faintest remembrance of his humanity, he would like a peck-of provender; then wholly asinine, he could munch your good dry oats. Immediately afterwards, a vaguely thirsty reminiscence of the old man breaking forth, he has a great desire to a bottle of no, not ale, but hay, and thereupon lapses again into his new nature, and declares with a slavering munch that "Good hay, sweet hay, hath no fellow.'

What I had not noticed was, that after waking and sleepily saying, "When my cue comes, call me, and I will answer: my next is most fair Pyramus "(his vanity, the most wakeful part about him, prompting Pyramus instead of Thisbe), he then dreamingly and yawningly uses "Heigh-ho," the human particle of speech most nearly resembling a donkey's bray - a reminiscence by which a good actor would pointedly inform the audience that the ass and Bottom, and Bottom and the ass, were still of one confused substance. In like manner, when his vanity will not allow him to say in words what he bethought himself he was, and what he bethought himself he had, there can be no doubt but that he doubtingly, but half believingly, felt for the tips of his Midas ears. BRINSLEY NICHOLSON.

West Australia.

[It is pleasant to receive such a paper from West Australia with the intimation that it was written for our * Christmas Number." We thank our correspondent, and offer him all the good wishes of the season.-ED.]

JOHN LYLY: THE SONGS IN HIS PLAYS.-In the edition of six of this author's dramas, which was printed for Edward Blount in 1632, the songs omitted in the quartos were inserted in their places. The question which arose in my mind on a first perusal of these dramatic compositions-in which, with much that is graceful, scholarly, and ingenious, there is assuredly a considerable share of pedantic twaddle-was, whether the man who wrote the plays, also wrote the songs? I am strongly inclined to think not. It is well known that playwrights imported into their productions songs already popular, to the authorship of which

they can be shown to have had no claim. If Lyly did not borrow his songs from another, I must say, that I consider him entitled to a far higher place as a composer of songs than as a writer for the stage, or even for the more classical species of dramatic exhibition suited to the taste of a court, which could admire Euphues. W. CAREW HAZLITT.

ODIN STONE. This monument, destroyed by some Goth in 1814, was a genuine "holed stone." (See Barry's Orkney Isles, The Pirate, note T, by Sir Walter Scott; and in his Life by Lockhart, Diary for Aug. 13, 1813.) In the Norse ritual the pronouncer of an oath passed his hand through a ring of silver. (See the Eybiggia Saga.)

According to the plan of Stennis, in Archeologia, vol. xxxiv. p. 137, this stone was 150 yards north of east end of Brogar Bridge, having an aperture five feet from the ground, not central, but pierced on one side A child passed through this stone was believed to be freed from palsy, and offerings were made at it by visitors. Lovers plighted their troth while holding their hands through this hole, subject to subsequent defea

sance.

This stone was about eight feet high, and in shape similar to the remaining stones. (See Archeologia, Scot., vol. iii. p. 107; and an engraving by Barry, pp. 208-9.)

According to Dr. Henry, lovers' vows made through this stone, after solemn prayer to Odin in the adjacent solar and lunar circles, could be dissolved in the church of Stennis near the circles, the man going out at one door, and the woman at the other, legally divorced thenceforth.

A sketch of this stone was made by the Marchioness of Stafford shortly before its destruction, but whether engraved or not I cannot state. CHR. COOKE.

A PET CAT.-Is it not very unusual for a cat to follow like a dog, accompanying its master or mistress in their walks abroad? We have a pet cat which often follows us in our (country) walks, and we are obliged to shut her up to prevent her from running after us when we are going too far, or along frequented roads, where she might be beset by strange dogs and other perils. She has never been taught or enticed to come with us, but will jump over palings and other barriers to do so. She trots along softly a little before or behind us, occasionally making deep inquest into the tangled mystery of hedge or thicket, presently emerging, and bounding after us with extraordinary swiftness and the lithe vigorous grace of a miniature panther. She is a beautiful, small, tortoise hell cat, daintily clean in her habits, the white fur of her coat spotless as an ermine's.

I may say that she literally "answers " to the name of "Puggie," for she will generally when

called come running from her hidden haunts in garden, field, or barn.

Her not very euphonious name was bestowed on her by her master, as suiting her pretty little, black-nosed, piquante physiognomy, illumined by a pair of immense, brilliant, changeable, hazelgreen eyes. Puggie's "bringing up" has certainly been peculiar. When she was only a few hours old I began to dispute possession of her with her mother, a handsome ladylike cat, nearly white, belonging to a friend, in whose house we happened to be staying when "Bouffle" kittened. From the fourth week of her life until lately Puggie has been almost entirely confined to a London sick-room, seeing few persons but my husband and myself, my constant and most loving little companion in a long illness. She is much attached to us, but cares nothing for either person beside or place. Must I honestly confess that she has, too, what is phrased "a temper of her own"? But her beauty and her pretty, sagacious, and singular ways, in some respects more like those of a dog than a cat, cause her notwithstanding to be very generally admired and respected. She is at present just two years old. 1 may add that we are generally also accompanied in our walks by a good-natured, rough, Scotch terrier, whom Puggie snubs without the least provocation or retaliation on his part.

very

MARY BROTHERTON.

Latchmore Farm, Bramley, Basingstoke.

FLY-LEAF INSCRIPTION.

"Non vox, sed votum; non musica chordula, sed cor; Non clamans, sed amaus, psallitur aure Dei."

""Tis not the voice, but vow,

Sound heart, not sounding string,

True zeal, not outward show,
That in God's ear doth ring."

Queries.

EMBLEMATICAL PICTURE.

E. H. A.

I am desirous of ascertaining the meaning of a picture which is evidently emblematical, but of which I fear it will not be easy to give a very clear description. It is painted in oils on panel, and in size is 30 inches by 24. The execution is rather rough, but not without merit. From the slight indications of costume which it presents, I should judge it to have been painted about the middle of the seventeenth century. The subjects are disposed in portions of concentric circles radiating from a clock-dial, the centre of which is about seven inches from the bottom of the picture. These circles, appear from the distribution of the light and shade, to be intended to represent an orb. The two upper corners of the picture are black. In the corner to the left of the spectator is the following inscription in red letters: Ming DAN MEN DE —on the right hand side,

TT

This inscription read from right to left becomes: Ortus, abortus-est: Orimur, vivimus, morimur— cum-dolore, labore, mærore,-the words est and cum doing double duty. The next circle contains a face, but so lengthened out laterally and foreshortened that the features can scarcely be made out. It has a white shirt-collar and black raiment, and on the latter are the following words in white: MVTATINAV SATINAV-ARBMV TVCIS ATIV, which

read as the foregoing inscription becomes: vita sicut umbra, vanitas vanitatum. Immediately below these words are the following in small red letters not reversed: anagrama hujus umbræ, ætatis vanitatis suce 37, qui bene latuit bene vixit. We now come to the most important part of the picture, the circle nearest the dial. Beginning at the left, we have, on a dark ground, a three-quarter face of a middle-aged man with flowing hair and beard, and proceeding from his mouth the words, in red letters, tria in unum: next the head of an elderly severe-looking female dressed in black with a white hood, over which is a wreath of laurel; a small bag or purse hangs by a cord over her left shoulder; near her mouth are the words dat opes and over her head si grand en dieu. These twc heads face each other. Then comes, occupying the middle of the picture and turned towards the right, the head, in profile, of an old man with bald pate and forelock, and the words vita brevis, ars longa. Next is the profile of a young man, looking towards the last; it has quite the appearance of a caricature likeness-the nose, which is large and aquiline, and the chin unnaturally long and pointed, being out of all due proportion with the

rest of the face. Over it are the words un digne desir a, and proceeding from the mouth

The dress of the figure is black, with a white falling collar cr bands. The last figure is an ape, with collar and chain. He is pouring out a red liquor from a vial, and saying, They strive to doe, I to undoe. The hand of the dial which forms the centre of the circles points to XII. On the one side is the word we; on the other, must; above, they; below, you. This is evidently the old wellknown rebus-we must die all. Two lines are drawn diagonally from the figures VIII. and VI. on