A woman named Bamber, living at Marton, attained to considerable celebrity amongst the peasantry and others by her skill in checking bleeding, which she is reported to have accomplished by the utterance of some mystic words.
The people of the Fylde were not exempt from the common belief in the miraculous power of the Royal touch in that particular form of disease known as king’s evil, for amongst the records of the Thirty-men of Kirkham is a notice that in 1632 a sum of money was “given to Ricd. Barnes’s child, that had the king’s evil, to help him up to London,” to be touched by Charles I.
The fairies of the Fylde were supposed, like those of other localities, to reside in the earth; the vicinity of a cold spring, situated between Hardhorn and Newton, was one of their legendary resorts, and from such reputation acquired the name of “Fairies’ well.” Many stories are told of the mischievous, or good-natured doings of these imaginary beings; one or two of which we will here narrate:—A poor woman when filling her pitcher at the above well, in order to bathe the weak eyes of her infant, was gently addressed by a handsome man, who gave her a small box of ointment, and told her at the same time that it would prove an infallible remedy for the ailment of her child. The woman, although grateful for the present, either overcome by that irresistible curiosity which is commonly, but perhaps erroneously, supposed to attach itself to her sex, or doubtful of the efficacy which the stranger had assigned to the drug, applied it to one of her own eyes. A few days afterwards she had occasion to go to Preston, and whilst there detected her benefactor in the act of stealing corn from the open mouths of some sacks exposed for sale, and, having accosted him, began to remonstrate with him on the wickedness of his proceedings, when he inquired with evident surprise, how she became enabled to observe him, as he was invisible to all else. She explained the use that had been made of his ointment, and pointed to the powerful eye; but hardly had the words been uttered and the organ of supernatural vision indicated, before he raised his clenched hand, and with one blow struck out the offending optic, or rather reduced it to a state of total and irrecoverable blindness. Another anecdote refers to a milkmaid, who, whilst engaged in her avocation, perceived a jug and sixpence placed near to her by some invisible means; but no way disconcerted by the singular event, and probably attributing it to the agency of one of the elvan tribes, she filled the pitcher with milk, and, having watched its mysterious disappearance and, with unerring commercial instinct, pocketed the silver coin, took her departure. This episode was repeated for many successive mornings, until the maiden, overjoyed at her good fortune, revealed the curious adventures to her lover, and from that hour the hobgoblins appear either to have grown less thirsty, or, annoyed at what they might consider the betrayal of their secret, to have removed their custom to some other dairy, for neither jug nor sixpence ever gladdened the morning labours of the milkmaid again. A ploughman had his good nature, in cheerfully repairing the broken “spittle” of a lady liberally rewarded. The fairy, for such she proved to be, made known her presence to the agriculturist by suddenly crying in a distressed tone—“I have broken my speet,” and then held out in her hands the useless instrument with a hammer and nails. No sooner had she received her property, restored to a state of utility, than she vanished into the earth, but not, however, without leaving a substantial acknowledgment of his skill and kindness in the palm of the astonished husbandman.
We can only discover a record of one witch in the Fylde; this person of unenviable notoriety is stated to have had her abode in Singleton, and to have been known to the villagers as Mag Shelton. Her food, according to local tradition, was composed of boiled groats mixed with thyme or parsley, and numerous are the anecdotes related of her evil machinations and doings in the neighbourhood—the cows of the country people were constantly milked by her, whilst the pitcher walked before her in the form of a goose; lives were blighted and prosperity checked by the influence of her evil eye. Once, however, she was foiled by a girl, who fastened her to a chair by sticking a bodkin, crossed with two weavers’ healds, about her dress when seated before a large fire.
Some idea of the spiritual condition of the peasantry may be obtained from the perusal of the following prayer, a common one amongst the children of the Fylde about one hundred years ago:—
“Matthew, Mark, Luke, and John,
Bless the bed that I lie on;
There are four corners to my bed,
And four angels overspread,