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Page 35
"Lady bird, lady bird, fly away home,
Your house is on fire, and your children at home."
or
"Lady lady landers, fly away to Flanders."
But these practices were not altogether confined to children. Grown up
girls, when they caught a lady bird, held it in their hands, and
repeated the following couplet--
"Fly away east or fly away west,
And show me where lives the one I like best."
Its flight was watched with great anxiety, and when it took the
direction which the young girl wished, it was not only a sort of
pleasure, but a proof of the augury.
If a person on going to his work, or while going an errand, were to see
a hare cross the road in front of him, it was a token that ill luck
would shortly befall him. Many under such circumstances would return
home and not pursue their quest until the next meal had been eaten, for
beyond that the evil influence did not extend. This superstition is very
old, but it is not in every country or age connected with the hare. We
have already seen in a quotation from Ovid that this superstition
existed in his day, (page 2.) Probably the hare has been adopted in this
country from the belief that witches assumed the form of that animal
when on their nightly rambles, for how was the wayfarer to know that the
hare which he saw was not a transformed witch, intent on working him
mischief?
The cat was always a favourite in a family, and nothing was more unlucky
than for one to die inside the house. I have known cases where, when
such a misfortune occurred, the family were thrown into great
consternation, surmising what possible form of evil this omen portended
to them. Generally when a cat was known to be ailing, the animal was
removed from the house and placed in the coal cellar, or other
outhouse, with plenty of food, and kept there until it either recovered
or died. With the ancient Egyptians the cat was one of their favourite
animals. The death of a cat belonging to a family was considered a great
misfortune. Upon the occurrence of such an event the household went into
mourning, shaving off their eyebrows, and otherwise indicating their
sorrow. In Scotland it was believed that witches often assumed the cat
form while exercising their evil influence over a family.
It was pretty generally believed a few years ago that in large fires
kept continually burning there was generated an animal called a
salamander. It required seven years to grow and attain maturity, and if
the fires were kept burning longer than that there was great danger that
the animal might make its escape from its fiery matrix, and, if this
should happen, it would range round the world, destroying all it came in
contact with, itself almost indestructible. Hence large fires, such as
those of blast furnaces in ironworks, were extinguished before the
expiry of the seven years, and the embryo monster taken out. Such an
idea may have had its origin in a misinterpretation of some of St.
John's apocalyptic visions, or may have been a survival of the legend of
the fiery dragon whose very breath was fire, a legend common during the
middle ages and also in ancient Rome. Bacon, in his _Natural History_,
says--"There is an ancient tradition of the salamander that it liveth in
the fire, and hath force also to extinguish the fire"; and, according to
Pliny, Book X. chap. 67,--"The salamander, made in fashion of a lizard,
with spots like to stars, never comes abroad, and sheweth itself only
during great showers. In fair weather, he is not seen; he is of so cold
a complexion that if he do but touch the fire he would quench
it."--_Holland_. This is quite opposite to the modern notion of it that
it was generated in the fire, but such legends take transformations
suitable to the age and locality.
The goat has been associated both in ancient and modern times with the
devil, or evil spirit, who is depicted with horns, hoofs, and a tail. In
modern times, he was supposed to haunt streams and woods in this
disguise, and to be present at many social gatherings. He was popularly
credited with assisting, in this disguise, in the instruction of a
novice into the mysteries of Freemasonry, and was supposed to allow the
novice to ride on his back, and go withershins three times round the
room. I have known men who were anxious to be admitted into the order
deterred by the thought of thus meeting with the devil at their
initiation.
While staying at Luss lately, I was informed that a mill near to Loch
Lomond had formerly been haunted by the goat demon, and that the miller
had suffered much from its mischievous disposition. It frequently let on
the water when there was no grain to grind. But one night the miller
watched his mill, and had a meeting with the goblin, who demanded the
miller's name, and was informed that it was _myself_. After a trial of
strength, the miller got the best of it, and the spirit departed. After
hearing this, I remembered that the same story, under a slightly
different form, had been told me when a boy in my native village. This
was the story as then told:--A certain miller in the west missed a
quantity of his meal every day, although his mill was carefully and
securely locked. One night he sat up and watched, hiding himself behind
the hopper. After a time, he was surprised to see the hopper beginning
to go, and, looking up, he saw a little manakin holding a little cappie
in his hand and filling it at the hopper. The miller was so frightened
that this time he let him go; but, in a few minutes, the manakin
returned again with his cappie. Then the miller stepped out from his
hiding-place, and said, "Aye, my manakin, and wha may you be, and what's
your name?" To which the manakin, without being apparently disturbed,
replied, "My name is Self, and what's your name?" "My name is Self,
too," replied the miller. The manakin's cappie being by this time again
full, he began to walk off, but the miller gave him a whack with his
stick, and then ran again to his hiding-place. The manakin gave a
terrible yell, which brought from a hidden corner an old woman, crying,
"Wha did it? Wha did it?" The manakin answered, "It was Self did it."
Whereat, slapping the manakin on the cheek, the old woman said, "If Self
did it, Self must mend it again." After this, they both left the mill,
which immediately stopped working. The miller was never afterwards
troubled in this way, and, at the same time, a goat which for
generations had been observed at gloaming and on moonlight nights in the
dell, and on the banks of the stream which drove the mill, disappeared,
and was never seen again.
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