FOLK LORE.
Legends of the County Clare.—On the west coast of Ireland, near the Cliffs of Moher, at some distance out in the bay, the waves appear continually breaking in white foam even on the calmest day. The tradition among the country people is, that a great city was swallowed up there for some great crime, and that it becomes visible once every seven years. And if the person who sees it could keep his eyes fixed on it till he reached it, it would then be restored, and he would obtain great wealth. The man who related the legend stated farther, that some years ago some labourers were at work in a field on the hill side in view of the bay; and one of them, happening to cast his eyes seaward, saw the city in all its splendour emerge from the deep. He called to his companions to look at it; but though they were close to him, he could not attract their attention: at last, he turned round to see why they would not come; but on looking back, when he had succeeded in attracting their attention, the city had disappeared.
The Welsh legend of the Islands of the Blessed, which can only be seen by a person who stands on a turf from St. David's churchyard, bears a curious coincidence to the above. It is not impossible that there may have been some foundation for the vision of the enchanted city at Moher in the Fata Morgana, very beautiful spectacles of which have been seen on other parts of the coast of Ireland.
Francis Robert Davies.
Moon Superstitions (Vol. viii., p. 79.).—In this age of fact and science, it is remarkable that even with the well-informed the old faith in the "change of the moon" as a prognostic of fair and foul weather still keeps its hold. W. W. asks "have we any proof of" the "correctness" of this faith? To suppose that the weather varies with the amount of illuminated surface on the moon would make the change in the weather vary with the amount of moonshine, which of course is absurd, as in that case the clouds would have much more to do with the question than the moon's shadow. But still it may be said the moon may influence the weather as it is supposed to cause the tides. In answer to this I beg to state the opinion of Dr. Ick, who was for upwards of ten years the curator of the Birmingham Philosophical Institute, an excellent meteorologist, geologist, and botanist. He assured me that after the closest and most accurate observation of the moon and the weather, he had arrived at the conclusion that there is not the slightest observable dependence between them.
C. Mansfield Ingleby.
Birmingham.
Warwickshire Folk Lore.—The only certain remedy for the bite of an adder is to kill the offending reptile, and apply some of its fat to the wound. Whether the fat should be raw or melted down, my informant did not say, but doubtless the same effect would be produced in either case.
If a pig is killed in the wane of the moon, the bacon is sure to shrink in the boiling; if, on the other hand, the pig is killed when the moon is at the full, the bacon will swell.
Erica.
Warwick.
Northamptonshire Folk Lore.—There is a singular custom prevailing in some parts of Northamptonshire, and perhaps some of your correspondents may be able to mention other places where a similar practice exists. If a female is afflicted with fits, nine pieces of silver money and nine threehalfpences are collected from nine bachelors: the silver money is converted into a ring to be worn by the afflicted person, and the threehalfpences (i. e. 13½d.) are paid to the maker of the ring, an inadequate remuneration for his labour, but which he good-naturedly accepts. If the afflicted person be a male, the contributions are levied upon females.
E. H.
Slow-worm Superstition (Vol. viii., p. 33.).—As a child I was always told by the servants that if any serpent was "scotched, not killed," it would revive if it could reach its hole before sunset, but that otherwise it must die. Hence the custom, so universal, of hanging any serpent on a tree after killing it.
Seleucus.
A Devonshire Charm for the Thrush.—On visiting one of my parishioners, whose infant was ill with the thrush, I asked her what medicine she had given the child? She replied, she had done nothing to it but say the eighth Psalm over it. I found that her cure was to repeat the eighth Psalm over the infant three times, three days running; and on my hesitating a doubt as to the efficacy of the remedy, she appealed to the case of another of her children who had suffered badly from the thrush, but had been cured by the use of no other means. If it was said "with the virtue," it was, she declared, an unfailing cure. The mention, in this Psalm, of "the mouths of babes and sucklings," I suppose led to its selection.
W. Fraser.
Tor-Mohun.