because he always kept a verse ahead of them,
until a boy brought a couple of pigeons, and laid down before the
Will-o'-the-wisp, who, looking at them, lost his verse, and then they
succeeded in binding his spirit.

_This_, and many other tales, have been collected by the rector of the
parish of Irstead, from an old woman living there; and they contain so
much that is amusing, that we cannot forbear repeating them for the
benefit of those who have not had the opportunity of seeing the papers of
the Archaeological Society. Mrs. Lubbock is an old washerwoman, who,
left a widow with several children, has maintained herself
"independently" up to her eightieth year, without applying even for
out-door parish relief, until the cold winter of 1846 made her, as she
expresses it, _sick_ for crumbs like the birds. Education she has had
none, that is, of book learning, but she seems to have had a father,
given to anecdote, from whom she professes to have heard most of the
"saws" and tales of which she has such a profusion. She mentions the
practice, among her acquaintance, of watching the church porch on St.
Mark's eve, when, at midnight, the watcher may see all his acquaintance
enter the church: those who were to die remained, those who were to marry
went in couples and came out again. This, one Staff had seen; but he
would not tell the names of those who were to die or be married.

On Christmas-eve, she says, at midnight the cows and cattle rise and turn
to the east; and the horses in the stable, as far as their halters
permit. She says that a farmer once observing the reverent demeanour of
the horse, who will leisurely stay some time upon his knees moving his
head about and blowing over the manger, remarked, "Ah, they have more wit
than we;" which brings to mind an anecdote, related by an ear witness, of
a controversy that took place in this city among some cattle-drovers,
when an Irishman and Roman Catholic supported the claims of his religion
by commenting upon the invariable practice amongst those of his own
class, of saying their prayers before retiring to rest; whereas, added
he, "among you Protestants the _horse_ is the only real Christian that I
ever met with, who kneels before he goes to sleep and when he gets up."
That there is too much ground for the satire no one can doubt.

The Rosemary is said to flower on old Christmas-day, and Mrs. Lubbock
says that she recollects, on one occasion, a great argument about wh