I well remember that when a boy, and living in Rafra, St. Levan, how elderly men would go out into the town-place, last thing before they went to bed, to "look at the weather,"—in harvest particularly,—and come in saying, "Tregagle is roaring, so we shall surely have northerly wind and a dry day to-morrow," or, "the northern cleeves are calling," by which they meant the same, and unconsciously used somewhat poetical figures of speech.
A legend which connects Tregagle's escape from Gwenvor with the sanding up of Parcurnow has been noticed (on page [140]); other stories, however, say, that job was imposed on him as a separate task, which he quickly accomplished just before he was finally settled at Gwenvor.
[West Country Superstitions.]
[Devil's Money.]
There needs no other charm nor conjurer,
To raise infernal spirits up, but fear.