Pigwidgeon—a very small fairy.
Sprite—a spirit of the earth or air.
Sylph—originally, a being, male or female, living in and on the air and intermediate between material and immaterial beings. (Used by Paracelsus. The word is undoubtedly of Greek origin.)
The Boggart
In the house of an honest farmer in Yorkshire, named George Gilbertson, a Boggart had taken up his abode. He here caused a good deal of annoyance, especially by tormenting the children in various ways. Sometimes their bread and butter would be snatched away, or their porringers of milk be capsized by an invisible hand; for the Boggart never let himself be seen; at other times the curtains of their beds would be shaken backwards and forwards, or a heavy weight would press on them and nearly suffocate them. The parents had often, on hearing their cries, to fly to their aid. There was a kind of closet, formed by a wooden partition on the kitchen stairs, and a large knot having been driven out of one of the deal boards of which it was made, there remained a hole. Into this one day the farmer's youngest boy stuck the shoe horn with which he was amusing himself, when immediately it was thrown out again, and hit the boy on the head. The agent was, of course, the Boggart, and it soon became the children's sport (called laking with Boggart) to put the shoe horn into the hole and have it shot back at them.
The Boggart at length proved such a torment that the farmer and his wife resolved to quit the house and let him have it all to himself. This decision was put into execution, and the farmer and his family were following the last loads of furniture, when a neighbor named John Marshall came up: "Well, Georgey," said he, "and soa you're leaving t'ould hoose at last?" "Heigh, Johnny, my lad, I'm forced tull it; for that villain Boggart torments us soa, we can neither rest neet nor day for't. It seems loike to have such a malice again t'poor bairns, it ommost kills my poor dame here at thoughts on't, and soa, ye see, we're forced to flitt loike." He scarce had uttered the words when a voice from a deep upright churn cried out: "Aye, aye, Johnny, we 're flitting, ye see." "Od hang thee," cried the poor farmer, "if I'd known thou'd been there, I wadn't ha' stirred a peg. Nay, nay, it's no use, Mally," said he to his wife, "we may as weel turn back to t'ould hoose as be tormented in another that's not so convenient."
From "English Fairy and Other Folk Tales." Selected and edited by Edwin Sidney Hartland (Walter Scott Pub. Co.).
Cafre and the Fisherman's Wife
Once in the little village of Babancal there lived a happy couple. They were poor and it was necessary for them both to work for their living. The husband's occupation was farming during the wet season and fishing during the dry season. The wife kept the house, helped the husband in some of his work, and in addition, made mats of buli, pandan, or ticay, and sacks of buli.
One night, at about six o'clock after a slight supper, when it was dolom (moonless), the husband went to fish. The wife remained alone at home and sat waiting for the husband, and, at the same time, making a mat. The house was lighted with a home-made lamp of bamboo and earth. The lampwick of ragged doth dipped in oil made from the fruit of the bitaog tree gave a very poor light.