قراءة كتاب Notes and Queries, Number 174, February 26, 1853 A Medium of Inter-communication for Literary Men, Artists, Antiquaries, Genealogists, etc.
تنويه: تعرض هنا نبذة من اول ١٠ صفحات فقط من الكتاب الالكتروني، لقراءة الكتاب كاملا اضغط على الزر “اشتر الآن"

Notes and Queries, Number 174, February 26, 1853 A Medium of Inter-communication for Literary Men, Artists, Antiquaries, Genealogists, etc.
European, who contested every lot, aiming, apparently, at a monopoly in the second-hand book trade. Shortly thereafter, this individual, having located himself in a commanding position, came forth in the daily papers as a candidate for public favour; and, in allusion to the reformation he contemplated, and his sovereign contempt for his black brethren, headed his address, to the no small amusement of the lieges, in the Falstoffian vein:
"... No eyes hath seen such scarecrows.
I'll not march thro' Coventry with them, that's flat!"
This joke was no doubt thrown away upon his Hindoo and Mussulman rivals, but, alas for the reformer! he little knew the cold indifference of the Anglo-Indian about such matters, and, as might have been expected, he failed in establishing himself in business, and ultimately fell a victim to the climate. Of the previous history of this one, among ten thousand, who have left their bones in the land of cholera, I know nothing beyond the fact that he was a son of Thomas Holcroft, a dramatist of repute in his day.
FOLK LORE.
Subterranean Bells (Vol. vii., p. 128.).—The tower and nave of Tunstall Church, Norfolk, are in ruins; the chancel alone being used for divine service. The village tradition says, that this calamity was caused by fire; and that the parson and churchwardens quarreled for the possession of the bells which were uninjured. During their altercation, the arch-fiend walked off with the subjects of dispute; but being pursued, and overtaken by the parson—who began to exorcise in Latin—he made a way through the earth to his appointed dwelling-place, taking them with him. The spot where this took place is now a boggy pool of water, called Hell Hole; and an adjoining clump of alder-trees is called Hell Carr. In summer time, a succession of bubbles—doubtless caused by marsh gas—keep constantly appearing on the surface. Those who believe in the tradition, find in this circumstance a strong confirmation. For, as it is the entrance to the bottomless pit, the bells must be descending still; and the bubbles would necessarily be caused by bells sinking in water.
In the adjoining village of Halvergate, on the largest bell, is the following inscription:
"Sit cunctis annis,
Nobis avita Johs."
I suppose this must be "audita Johannes," but the inscription certainly is avita.
On the second bell:
"Intercede pia
Pro nobis Virgo Maria."
On the third bell, founder's name, and date 1653,—a solitary instance, I imagine, of an addition made to a peal of bells during the Puritan triumph of the Great Rebellion.
Fisherty Brow, near Kirkby Lonsdale, supplies such an instance as J. J. S. inquires after. There is a sort of natural hollow scooped out there, where a church, parson, and all the people, were swallowed up ages since; and any one who doubts it, may put his ear to the ground on a Sunday morning and hear the bells ring!
Old Weather Proverb.—The old monkish Latin rhyme is very plainly verified this year:
"Se Sol splendescat, Mariâ purificante,
Major erit glacies post festum, quam fuit ante."
February 2nd was a most brilliant day here, where I live, not twenty miles from London: the ground is now covered with snow, and the frost very sharp.
"After Candlemas Day the frost will be more,
If the sun then shines bright, than it has been before."
"After Candlemas Day frost will follow more keen,
If the sun then shines bright, than before it has been."
W—— Rectory, Feb. 12.
Primrosen.—The early appearance of primroses this year induces me to trouble you with some East-Anglian folk lore concerning them, premising that here the word still forms its plural in en.
At Cockfield, Suffolk, there are none, nor, it is said, do they thrive when planted; though they are numerous in all the surrounding villages, which do not apparently differ from Cockfield in soil.
The village legend says that here, too, they once were plentiful, but when Cockfield was depopulated by the plague, they also caught the infection and died, nor have they flourished since that time.
In East Norfolk some old women are still found who believe that if a less number of primrosen than thirteen be brought into a house on the first occasion of bringing any in, so many eggs only will each hen or goose hatch that season. When recently admitted into deacon's orders, my gravity was sorely tried by being called on to settle a quarrel between two old women, arising from one of them having given one primrose to her neighbour's child, for the purpose of making her hens hatch but one chicken out of each set of eggs. And it was seriously maintained that the charm had been successful.
Since then I have heard that it only has an influence over geese. Perhaps this may account in some measure for the belief. In early seasons, persons are induced to carry in specimens of the first spring flowers that they find. In such seasons, too, fowls lay early, and perhaps do not sufficiently protect their eggs. The ungenial weather which too frequently succeeds spoils the eggs, and the effect is attributed to the "primrosen" of course; the cases where a few flowers are brought in, and the fowls have numerous broods, remain unnoticed.
Harvest Home Song, sung in some Parts of Surrey.—
"We have plough'd,
We have sow'd,
We have reap'd,
We have mow'd;
Ne'er a load
Overthrow'd—
Harvest Home!"
Bath.
INEDITED POEM ON CHAUCER.
I lately bought a black-letter Chaucer (1561), in which I find MS. notes by two or three writers. One is in rather a crabbed handwriting, and dates from 1574. I must own to being unable to decipher this gentleman's notes to my satisfaction; but the writing of another is clear and distinct. There are a few emendations on the "Rime of Sire Thopas," and the following "Eulogium Chaucerj." I do not know whether it has appeared anywhere in print before; and as my reading in the British poets is too limited for me to say anything about its author, I should be glad if you or any one of your correspondents would inform me who the lines are by:—
Eulogium Chaucerj.
Geffrye Chaucer, the worthiest flower
Of English Poetrie in all the Bower.
So as wth hym we maye compare
Wth Italy for Poet rare.
Dant, nor Boccace, nor Petracqu fyne,
But Chaucer he wth them may syng.
Wth woords so fitt and sense so deepe,
His matters all he can so riepe,
The Muses nyne, I thynck their teats
To his sweete lypps did sweetly reatch.
As Plato, in his cradle Nest,
Is saied of Bees to haue bene blest.
So as, by Nature, noe man can,
Wthout rare guyst, prove such a man.
The rare euents that haue bene sence,
O how they call for his defence!
Though many one hath done his parte,
Yett he alone had toucht the harte.
Sith he then is so peereles fownd,
For hym