their necks. Travellers passing by were ordered not to feed them; but one
compassionate horseman as he rode along threw the core of an apple to one,
on which she subsisted for three days. Wonderful is it to state that three
groups of firs sprung up miraculously from the graves of the three maids.
Thus their memories have been perpetuated. The peasantry of Winchester and
its neighbourhood for the most part accredit the story, and I see no reason
for disbelieving the first part of it myself. Does any one know of a like
punishment being awarded in olden times, when the tender mercies of the law
were cruel and arbitrary?

_Mother Russel's Post._--Whilst I am on the subject of folk lore I may as
well add, that on the road to Kings Sombourn, of educational renown, there
is a spot where four roads meet. Report says that a certain Mother Russel,
who committed suicide, was buried there. A little girl in this village was
afraid to pass the spot at night on account of the ghosts, which are
supposed to haunt it in the hours of darkness. The rightful name of the
place is "Mother Russel's Post."

EUSTACE W. JACOB.

Crawley.

_Shrove Tuesday Custom_ (Vol. ix., p. 65.).--The Shrove Tuesday custom
mentioned by MR. ELLIOTT as existing at Leicester, and an account of which
he quotes from Hone's _Year-Book_, has been abolished within the last few
years. There is, I believe, still a curious custom on that day at Ludlow,
the origin and meaning of which has never, so far as I am aware, been
discovered and stated.

"The corporation," I quote from a history of the town, "provide a rope,
three inches in thickness, and in length thirty-six yards, which is
given out at one of the windows of the Market House as the clock
strikes four, when a large body of the inhabitants, divided into two
parties, commence an arduous struggle, and as soon as either party
gains the victory by pulling the rope beyond the prescribed limits, the
pulling ceases, &c.

* * * * *

"Without doubt this singular custom is symbolical of some remarkable
event, and a remnant of that ancient language of visible signs, which,
says a celebrated writer, 'imperfectly supplies the want of letters to
perpetuate the remembrance of public or private transactions.' The sign
in this instance has survived the remembrance of the occurrence it was
designed to represent, and remains a profound mystery.