A Midwife’s Strange Experience.—‘A strange man took a nurse to a place where a baby boy was born. After the birth, the man set out on a table two cakes, one of them broken and the other one whole, and said to the nurse: “Eat, eat; but don’t eat of the cake which is broken nor of the cake which is whole.” And the nurse said: “What in the name of the Lord am I going to eat?” At that all the fairies in the house disappeared; and the nurse was left out on a mountain-side alone.’
A Fairy-Baking.—‘At night the fairies came into a house in Glen Rushen to bake. The family had put no water out for them; and a beggar-man who had been left lodging on the sofa downstairs heard the fairies say, “We have no water, so we’ll take blood out of the toe of the servant who forgot our water.” And from the girl’s blood they mixed their dough. Then they baked their cakes, ate most of them, and poked pieces up under the thatched roof. The next day the servant-girl fell ill, and was ill until the old beggar-man returned to the house and cured her with a bit of the cake which he took from under the thatch.’
A Changeling Musician.—‘A family at Dalby had a poor idiot baby, and when it was twenty years old it still sat by the fire just like a child. A tailor came to the house to work on a day when all the folks were out cutting corn, and the idiot was left with him. The tailor began to whistle as he sat on the table sewing, and the little idiot sitting by the fire said to him: “If you’ll not tell anybody when they come in, I’ll dance that tune for you.” So the little fellow began to dance, and he could step it out splendidly. Then he said to the tailor: “If you’ll not tell anybody when they come in, I’ll play the fiddle for you.” And the tailor and the idiot spent a very enjoyable afternoon together. But before the family came in from the fields, the poor idiot, as usual, was sitting in a chair by the fire, a big baby who couldn’t hardly talk. When the mother came in she happened to say to the tailor, “You’ve a fine chap here,” referring to the idiot. “Yes, indeed,” said the tailor, “we’ve had a very fine afternoon together; but I think we had better make a good fire and put him on it.” “Oh!” cried the mother, “the poor child could never even walk.” “Ah, but he can dance and play the fiddle, too,” replied the tailor. And the fire was made; but when the idiot saw that they were for putting him on it he pulled from his pocket a ball, and this ball went rolling on ahead of him, and he, going after it, was never seen again.’ After this strange story was finished I asked Mrs. Moore where she had heard it, and she said:—‘I have heard this story ever since I was a girl. I knew the house and family, and so did my mother. The family’s name was Cubbon.’
The Fenodyree’s (or ‘Phynnodderee’s’) Disgust.—‘During snowy weather, like this, the Fenodyree would gather in the sheep at night; and during the harvest season would do the threshing when all the family were abed. One time, however, just over here at Gordon Farm, the farmer saw him, and he was naked; and so the farmer put out a new suit of clothes for him. The Fenodyree came at night, and looking at the clothes with great disgust at the idea of wearing such things, said:—
Bayrn da’n chione, doogh da’n chione,
Cooat da’n dreeym, doogh da’n dreeym,
Breechyn da’n toin, doogh da’n toin,
Agh my she lhiat Gordon mooar,
Cha nee lhiat Glion reagh Rushen.
(Cap for the head, alas! poor head,
Coat for the back, alas! poor back,
Breeches for the breech, alas! poor breech,
But if big Gordon [farm] is thine,
Thine is not the merry Glen of Rushen.)[44]
And off he went to Glen Rushen for good.’
Testimony from the Keeper of Peel Castle
From Mrs. Moore’s house I walked on to Peel, where I was fortunate in meeting, in his own home, Mr. William Cashen, the well-known keeper of the famous old Peel Castle, within whose yet solid battlements stands the one true round tower outside of Ireland. I heard first of all about the fairy dog—the Moddey Doo (Manx for Black Dog)—which haunts the castle; and then Mr. Cashen related to me the following anecdotes and tales about Manx fairies:—
Prayer against the Fairies.—‘My father’s and grandfather’s idea was that the fairies tumbled out of the battlements of Heaven, falling earthward for three days and three nights as thick as hail; and that one third of them fell into the sea, one third on the land, and one third remained in the air, in which places they will remain till the Day of Judgement. The old Manx people always believed that this fall of the fairies was due to the first sin, pride; and here is their prayer against the fairies:—“Jee saue mee voish cloan ny moyrn” (God preserve me from the children of pride [or ambition]).’
A Man’s Two Wives.—‘A Ballaleece woman was captured by the fairies; and, soon afterwards, her husband took a new wife, thinking the first one gone for ever. But not long after the marriage, one night the first wife appeared to her former husband and said to him, and the second wife overheard her: “You’ll sweep the barn clean, and mind there is not one straw left on the floor. Then stand by the door, and at a certain hour a company of people on horseback will ride in, and you lay hold of that bridle of the horse I am on, and don’t let it go.” He followed the directions carefully, but was unable to hold the horse: the second wife had put some straw on the barn floor under a bushel.’