A Settherday’s warks frea morn ti neet,
Bud a Sunday’s bairn thruff leyfe is blist
An’ seear i’ t’ end wi’ t’ Saints ti rist.
From the day of its birth to that of its baptism, pepper cake, cheese and wine, or some other cordial, are offered to all those who cross the threshold. No one would think of refusing to ’tak a bite an’ sup,’ to wish the little stranger all the happiness and good luck possible. In many places, the doctor cuts the cake and cheese immediately after the happy event is over, giving a piece to every one present; neither cake nor cheese must have been previously cut into, and what is cut must be divided into just so many pieces as there are friends present, neither more nor less. Should it unfortunately happen the pieces exceed in number that of the guests, it would portend that troubles in this life will be too many to contend against; but should there be not enough pieces to go all round, then the child in after years will lack many of those comforts, the possession of which make life a blessing.
When possible, a new arrival, before being laid by its mother’s side, or even touched by her, is placed in the arms of a maiden. To a boy, this early contact, with our highest ideal of earthly purity, gives to him a nobleness of character which in after years will help the world to be better, whilst in the case of a girl she will grow up to be modest and pure in all things. The idea is pretty.
In Cleveland, and some of the dales westward, the notion still prevails that a child should always go up in the world before it goes down; so when it happens that a child is born in the topmost story, in which case it is impossible to carry it into a higher room, the nurse will stand upon the bed with the child in her arms, holding it above the mother, that being a higher position than it held at its birth. After this ceremony it may be safely taken to the lower regions. Were this rite omitted, and the child allowed to descend before it had gone up, failure in life would most likely be the lot of such a one—the tendency of such always being downhill. These little ceremonies, anyway, point a splendid moral. One cannot begin to be good and diligent too early in life.
When a child is born with a mask or caul over its head, good luck will follow it all the days of its life, always provided the caul is properly preserved. There is some rite in the preservation of such, the details of which I have not been able to obtain. Speaking to one old dame, she said to me that she did not rightly know what they did in such cases, none of her children having been fortunate enough to be so distinguished at their birth. This much, however, she did know, that some just dried such a covering by laying it between two layers of muslin, but—and to give her own words—‘Ther’s other some ’at ’ev a straange carrying on wi’ sike leyke; they lap it roond t’ Bahble an’ deea summat, bud Ah deean’t knaw what, bud Ah can git ti knaw foor ya.’ That cannot be now; she has crossed the borderland. That such cauls or masks were held in high esteem at one time, is proved by the high prices paid for them, not because they had belonged to people of note or high degree, but because they possessed the power to ward off many evils which might assail the possessor. Sailors even to-day set great store by them: they act as a charm, saving the possessor from drowning in case of a wreck. These veils were much prized by witches, and great was the evil they could work should such ever come into their possession, hence the necessity of using all precautions against their loss.
An old body, Ann Caygill by name—I think she was a native of Bedale—told me the following story. She was seventy-five years of age, and the event took place some twenty years before she was born, but as the individual affected told the story to Ann herself, I have it pretty much from its original source. Jane Herd at her birth had a mask covering both head and face, which, as quite natural in those days, her mother carefully preserved. It turned out to be one of extraordinary power. If Jane laid it on the Bible and wished to see any one, they were bound to put in an appearance. And many other wonders she could work with her caul. Jane, it seems, was a pious girl, and never used it for an evil purpose, though, said my informant, she might have done had she been so minded. One day when Jane was using her mask for some rightful purpose, a puff of wind blew it through the open window. Jane of course rushed into the street to recover her treasure, but it was gone, and could not be found; being of such an exceedingly light nature, the wind had carried it no one knew whither.
And from that day Jane’s life became a burden. Her lover grew cold—the wedding day had been arranged, but he declined to carry out his promise—a nasty lump came on her neck, and a fearful pain and swelling attacked her right knee, which made her walk very lame, and indeed she became a perfect wreck. At last things got into such a parlous state with her, that people began to suspect some evil-minded person had found her mask, and was working her evil with it. It was then remembered, when Jane had rushed into the street to recover her lost treasure, that the only person visible at the time was one Molly Cass[21], a witch of considerable local repute in those days. But Molly at the time had been so far distant from Jane’s cottage, that she was not even questioned. In the end, Jane had resort to the wise man, or rather men, of that day—Master Sadler and Thomas Spence[22], both of Bedale. These two worthies, after many questions, made a sign round the lump as well as round her knee, telling Jane to collect certain things—what these were could not be called to mind—and bring them next day near midnight. These several things having been collected and duly delivered to the charmers, were mixed together, with other ingredients, and the whole boiled on a wickenwood fire, and stirred by Jane with a wickenwood stick; near the end of this boiling, a great smoke arose from the pan, which Jane was told to inhale. She did so, but it nearly choked her, still she kept on swallowing mouthful after mouthful, until she had done so nine times; she was then told to cease stirring, but to retain the stick in one hand, the other being laid on the Bible. She had then to repeat the following question: ‘Has—— ’ (here mentioning the name of anyone she suspected) ‘gotten mah caul?’ Then Master Sadler, after a moment’s pause, said, ‘No, she is free.’ Master Spence then joined in with ‘By the power of the Holy Writ and the charm of Hagothet and Arcon[23], mention the name of some other person thou doubtest.’ This formula was gone through until the name of Molly Cass was mentioned. Even as the witch’s name was uttered, the pan boiled over, filling the room with such a fearful stench, that all three had to hurry into the yard. So quickly was this accomplished, that they surprised the old witch scrambling off a settle, upon which she had been standing to enable her to peep through a small hole in the shutters. She was instantly seized and thrust into the room, and kept there until so nearly suffocated, that she confessed she had the caul on her person, and promised then and there to deliver it up. On being brought out of the room more dead than alive, she further confessed that she had been forced to run all the way from Leeming—the current belief, however, was that she had come astride of a besom—the moment they had put the pan on the wickenwood fire. She begged to be forgiven, but as a punishment she was locked up in a stable, a wicken peg having been driven into the door to prevent her from escaping; and next day, for the diversion of the Bedale inhabitants, she was hurried to the mill dam and duly ducked nine times.
‘A FRAGMENT,’