Prayer

Graunt that no Hobgoblins fright me

No hungrie devils rise up and bite me;

No Urchins, Elves or drunkards Ghoasts

Shove me against walles or posts.

O graunt that I may no black thing touch.

Though many men love to meet such.

John Day

The Knockers of the Mines

In Welsh faerie lore the 'Knockers' are spirits of the mines or caverns who make strange sounds deep in the earth and may try to prevent mining activities which disturb them. In the following account from George Borrow's Wild Wales (1862), a miner tells Borrow of such an experience:

"Do you like the life of a miner?" said I.

"Very much," said he, "and should like it more, but for the noises of the hill."

"Do you mean the powder blasts?" said I.



"Oh no!" said he, "I care nothing for them; I mean the noises made by the spirits of the hill in the mine. Sometimes they make such noises as frighten the poor fellow who works underground out of his senses. Once on a time I was working by myself very deep underground, in a little chamber to which a very deep shaft led. I had just taken up my light to survey my work, when all of a sudden I heard a dreadful rushing noise, as if an immense quantity of earth had come tumbling down. 'Oh God!' said I, and fell backwards, letting the light fall, which instantly went out. I thought the whole shaft had given way, and that I was buried alive. I lay for several hours half stupefied, thinking now and then what a dreadful thing it was to be buried alive. At length I thought I would get up, go to the mouth of the shaft, feel the mould, with which it was choked up, and then come back, lie down, and die. So I got up and tottered to the mouth of the shaft, put out my hand and felt - nothing; all was clear. I went forward, and presently felt the ladder. Nothing had fallen; all was just the same as when I came down. I was dreadfully afraid that I should never be able to get up in the dark without breaking my neck; however, I tried, and at last, with a great deal of toil and danger, got to a place where other men were working. The noise was caused by the spirits of the hill in the hope of driving the miner out of his senses. They very nearly succeeded. I shall never forget how I felt when I thought I was buried alive. If it were not for those noises in the hill, the life of a miner would be quite heaven below."

The Dog of Peace and the Fairy Man

I saw the figure of a man, and what appeared to be an animal of some kind, coming across the bog with great speed, in the direction of myself; the nature of the ground seemed to offer but little impediment to these beings, both clearing the holes and abysses which lay in their way with surprising agility; the animal was, however, some slight way in advance, and, bounding over the dyke, appeared on the road just before me. It was a dog, of what species I cannot tell, never having seen the like before or since; the head was large and round; the ears so tiny as scarcely to be discernible; the eyes of a fiery red: in size it was rather small than large; and the coat, which was remarkably smooth, as white as the falling flakes. It placed itself directly in my path, and showing its teeth, and bristling its coat, appeared determined to prevent my progress. I had an ashen stick in my hand, with which I threatened it; this, however, only served to increase its fury; it rushed upon me, and I had the utmost difficulty to preserve myself from its fangs.

'What are you doing with the dog, the fairy dog?' said a man, who at this time likewise cleared the dyke at a bound.

[ ….. some conversation, partly in Irish . . …]

But now with a whisking sound came running down the road a hare; it was nearly upon us before it perceived us; suddenly stopping short, however, it sprang into the bog on the right-hand side; after it amain bounded the dog of peace, followed by the man, but not until he had nodded to me a farewell salutation. In a few moments I lost sight of him amidst the snowflakes.

George Borrow From Lavengro Chapter XII

*

(Borrow’s delightful but often prosaic writings are sometimes suddenly enlivened by his encounters with gypsies, horse-whisperers, snake-tamers and other characters. The above is an autobiographical account of an incident from his childhood when he lived  for a time in Ireland).

The Vixen and the Oakman

The hounds were closing in on the fox and she was beginning to tire. As she slowed to a weary pace, the hawthorn tree said

“Jump up on me then run along the high stone wall”.

“I’m too tired to jump up” said Fox, “but thank you kindly”.

“There’s a water gap in the wall just here”, said Hawthorn, “squeeze through to the forest like Hedgehog does. They’ll have to go two miles around the wall to follow you”.

“I’m not a hedgehog”, said Fox. But then she heard the hounds and squeezed into the gap and eventually wriggled through, though she left much of her pelt on the stones.

“Thank you Hawthorn”, she said before limping off into the forest.

One of the hounds came to the gap and sniffed the scent of Fox. He lifted his head to bay, but Hawthorn dropped a bunch of haws into his throat and made him cough instead.

“Give her a chance” said Hawthorn, “you’re twice her size. She may be a vixen but she’s got good manners and doesn’t cough and splutter all over my roots.”

The hounds went round the wall into the forest and soon picked up the scent of Fox again. She was limping badly now and stopped to rest in the bracken.

“Oh Holly Tree, block the way behind me” she said.

But Holly was barren and did not answer, but beckoned. Fox slid away and made for a great oak.

“Please let me in” she pleaded. “I bring news”.

Oakman doubted Fox’s words but pulled her safe inside anyway, for he guards all forest creatures.

Once inside she gasped “Your mistletoe bough – men with axes – going to cut it down – I heard them say so.”

“You came through danger to tell us that?”

“Yes”, said Fox.

The hunt went past and Fox bathed her sore paws in Oak’s rainpool.

“Keep away from Barren Holly” said Oak as Fox left. She meant to.



*

Lake District, collected in the 1940’s.

TIDDY MUN

In the old days before the dykes were made and the wet lands were drained they were full of boggarts and Will-o-the-wisps and such like, and folk dared not venture over the bogs in the dark.But there was one among all the uncanny things that made up for the rest. That was Tiddy Mun. He dwelt deep down in the green water holes and came out at evening when the mists rose. When he came out he came creeping like a limping lobelty with long white hair and a beard that was all matted and tangled all sheathed in grey so he could not easily be seen in the dark. But his whistle could be heard like a peewit laughing into the wind. He was not wicked like some of the others, but was eerie enough. But on wet seasons when the water rose to the people's doorsteps, the whole family would go out together and, shivering in the darkness, would call:

Tiddy Mun wi'out a name
Tha watter's thruff

And they would call this until the heard the whistling like a peewit across the marsh, and then they'd go home. Next morning the waters would be down. But then it was decided to drain the marshes, though the farmers would not have anything to do with it, for what would Tiddy Mun do then? But ditches were dug and the land got drier and drier and Tiddy Mun grew angry. Then the cattle began to die, and milk curdled and children pined and died in their mothers' arms. And they didn't know if it was the bogles or Tiddy Mun himself, so they all took a stoup each of water and came to the dyke edge and and poured the water out together chanting:

Tiddy Mun wi'out a name
Here's watter for thee, tak thy spell undone

They listened, but all was dead still with not a sound. Then a great wailing and whistling broke out and the sound of wailing babies, and all the mothers begged Tiddy Mun to lift his spell. And they felt cold hands touching them, and cold lips kissing them and the sound of soft wings fluttering in the dark. Then silence for a while until the sound like a peewit whistling across the marsh and they knew that Tiddy Mun was lifting the spell.

And every Full Moon they would go out with the stoups of water to say their rhyme. While they did this Tiddy Mun stayed for a while longer. But the land is all drained now and he has gone away. And the land is empty.

Thomas Stonehouse and The Hob

This story was told by an old labourer on the Musgrave Estate. About the year 1760 his grandfather, Thomas Stonhouse, lived at Hob Garth. He kept a flock of sheep, and perhaps a smallholding besides. He had a malicious neighbour, Matthew Bland, of Great Fryup, who one night, for fancied grievance, broke Thomas's hedge and let all his sheep loose.

Although Thomas hunted them all day, by nightfall he had collected only five out of forty and had caught so heavy a chill that he was in bed for days afterwards. Yet in the morning all his sheep were back in the field and new posts and fixings had been put into the broken hedge.The next night every one of Bland's cattle were turned loose and it was more than a fortnight before he recovered them all. 


Next day after this, all Stonehouse's sheep were again turned loose. Although his neighbours did their best to get the old man's sheep back, few were rounded up by the end of the day. But the next morning all but four were back in the field, and these were found dead, having fallen into a disused quarry. By now his neighbours were convinced that Hob was helping the old shepherd.

When he was well enough he went to the field to count the sheep and take some hay for them, as it was winter, then sat by the gate waiting for the friend who had promised to pick him up in his cart. As he sat there he was greeted by an old man of strange appearance with very long hair, very large feet, hands, eyes and mouth. He stooped as he walked with a long holly stick. He told Thomas that his lost sheep would be replaced when lambing-time came and that Matthew Bland would get what was coming to him. 

When his friend arrived in the cart he was surprised to see Thomas talking to the empty air. He thought the old shepherd's mind was beginning to wander.  When lambing-time came, though winter had returned for a brief, bitter spell, Bland lost many lambs, but Thomas lost none, in fact many of his ewes had twins. 

As the saying goes, "When t'hobman did tak ti yan, ya war yal reeght i' t' lang-run."

ↂ

(R. Blakeborough, 

Wit, Character, Folklore and Customs of the North Riding of Yorkshire, 1898)

Pixy-Led

The Pixies, as the fairies of Devon and Cornwall are usually called, were often said to lead people astray. The term ‘Pixy-Led’ was used to describe this occurrence. In the The Western Daily Mercury newspaper for 6 June 1890 there is an account of one of a group of men working in a  woodland who left the others to go back for a tool as they went home for the evening. A strange feeling came over him and he heard voices and laughter all around him. That was the last he remembered. When he didn’t come home with the others his wife went to look for him. She found him wet and bedraggled sitting in a stream, not knowing where he was. He had been ‘Pixy-Led’. When he saw his wife he came to his senses and she told him he should have turned his pockets out or reversed his coat as this was a defence against the pixies. The newspaper report mentions others who were led astray in this way and remained under the spell of the pixies until dawn.

In other parts of the country, fairies are said to lead travellers astray with lights such as the will-o-the-wisps on marshes. These tales don’t usually give a reason other than mischievousness for the practice. But this tale from Yorkshire does:

A tailor once boasted that he would like to catch a fairy and keep her captive. On his way home one evening he somehow lost his way. He dropped his scissors and couldn’t find them. Other items in his work bag fell away into the twilight. Then he saw a beautiful girl holding a light. He called to her to help him but she didn’t move, so he went towards her.  But as he got nearer she seemed to get farther away. He followed her and the light seemed at one moment very close but the next moment far distant. She led him here and there for several hours, then disappeared leaving him utterly lost and bewildered in the darkness.