curiousest things in life
were, gen'rally speakin', the simplest. One o' the schoolchildren in
the fore part of the train--a small nipper of nine--had put his head
out o' the carriage window and got his cap blown away. That's all.
Bein' a nipper of some resource, he wasted no time, but touched off
the communicatin' button an' fetched the whole train to a standstill.
George Simmons, the guard, told me all about it last week, when I
happened across him an' asked the same question you've been askin'.
George was huntin' through the corridors to find out what had gone
wrong; that's how the blind men stepped out without his noticin'.
He pretended to be pretty angry wi' the young tacker. 'Do 'ee know,'
says George, 'it's a five pound fine if you stop a train without good
reason?' 'But I _had_ a good reason,' says the child. 'My mother
gave 'levenpence for that cap, an' 'tis a bran' new one.'"

OUR LADY OF GWITHIAN.

"Mary, mother, well thou be!
Mary, mother, think on me;
Sweete Lady, maiden clean,
Shield me from ill, shame, and teen;
Shield me, Lady, from villainy
And from all wicked company!"
Speculum Christiani.

Here is a little story I found one day among the legends of the
Cornish Saints, like a chip in porridge. If you love simplicity, I
think it may amuse you.

Lovey Bussow was wife of Daniel Bussow, a tin-streamer of Gwithian
Parish. He had brought her from Camborne, and her neighbours agreed
that there was little amiss with the woman if you overlooked her
being a bit weak in the head. They set her down as "not exactly."
At the end of a year she brought her husband a fine boy. It happened
that the child was born just about the time of year the tin-merchants
visited St. Michael's Mount; and the father--who streamed in a small
way, and had no beast of burden but his donkey, or "naggur"--had to
load up panniers and drive his tin down to the shore-market with the
rest, which for him meant an absence of three weeks, or a fortnight
at the least.

So Daniel kissed his wife and took his leave; and the neighbours, who
came to visit her as soon as he was out of the way, all told her the
same story--that until the child was safely baptised it behoved her
to be very careful and keep her door shut for fear of the Piskies.
The Piskies, or fairy-folk (they said), were themselves the spirits
of children that had died unchristened, and liked nothing better t