Notes and Queries, Number 35, June 29, 1850

Environ'd by ice, skill and ardour were vain
The swift moving mass of its force to disarm—
Yet, dash'd on the beach and our boats torn away,
No anchors could hold us, nor cables secure;
The dread and the peril expir'd with the day,
When none but High Heaven could our safety ensure.

"Involv'd with the ages existent before,
Is the year that has brought us thus far on our way,
And gratitude calls us our God to adore,
For the oft-renewed mercies its annals display.
The gloomy meridian of darkness is past,
And ere long shall gay spring bid the herbage revive;
On the wide waste of ice she'll re-echo the blast,
And the firm prison'd ocean its fetters shall rive.

    "W."

FOLK LORE

Legend of Sir Richard Baker, surnamed Bloody Baker.—I one day was looking over the different monuments in Cranbrook Church in Kent, when in the chancel my attention was arrested by one erected to the memory of Sir Richard Baker. The gauntlet, gloves, helmet, and spurs were (as is often the case in monumental erections of Elizabethan date) suspended over the tomb. What chiefly attracted my attention was the colour of the gloves, which was red. The old woman who acted as my cicerone, seeing me look at them, said, "Aye, miss, those are Bloody Baker's gloves; their red colour comes from the blood he shed." This speech awakened my curiosity to hear more, and with very little pressing I induced my old guide to tell me the following strange tale.

The Baker family had formerly large possessions in Cranbrook, but in the reign of Edward VI. great misfortunes fell on them; by extravagance and dissipation, they gradually lost all their lands, until an old house in the village (now used as the poor-house) was all that remained to them. The sole representative of the family remaining at the accession of Queen Mary, was Sir Richard Baker. He had spent some years abroad in consequence of a duel; but when, said my informant, Bloody Queen Mary reigned, he thought he might safely return, as he was a Papist. When he came to Cranbrook he took up his abode in his old house; he only brought one foreign servant with him, and these two lived alone. Very soon strange stories began to be whispered respecting unearthly shrieks having been heard frequently to issue at nightfall from his house. Many people of importance were stopped and robbed in the Glastonbury woods, and many unfortunate travellers were missed and never heard of more. Richard Baker still continued to live in seclusion, but he gradually repurchased his alienated property, although he was known to have spent all he possessed before he left England. But wickedness was not always to prosper. He formed an apparent attachment to a young lady in the neighbourhood, remarkable for always wearing a great many jewels. He often pressed her to come and see his old house, telling her he had many curious things he wished to show her. She had always resisted fixing a day for her visit, but happening to walk within a short distance of his house, she determined to surprise him with a visit; her companion, a lady older than herself, endeavoured to dissuade her from doing so, but she would not be turned from her purpose. They knocked at the door, but no one answered them; they, however, discovered it was not locked, and determined to enter. At the head of the stairs hung a parrot, which on their passing cried out,—

"Peepoh, pretty lady, be not too bold,
Or your red blood will soon run cold."

And cold did run the blood of the adventurous damsel when, on opening one of the room doors, she found it filled with the dead bodies of murdered persons, chiefly women. Just then they heard a noise, and on looking out of the window saw Bloody Baker and his servant bringing in the murdered body of a lady. Nearly dead with fear, they concealed themselves in a recess under the staircase.

As the murderers with their dead burden passed by them, the hand of the unfortunate murdered lady hung in the baluster of the stairs; with an oath Bloody Baker chopped it off, and it fell into the lap of one of the concealed ladies. As soon as the murderers had passed by, the ladies ran away, having the presence of mind to carry with them the dead hand, on one of the fingers of which was a ring. On reaching home they told their story, and in confirmation of it displayed the ring. All the families who had lost relatives mysteriously were then told of what had been found out; and they determined to ask Baker to a large party, apparently in a friendly manner, but to have constables concealed ready to take him into custody. He came, suspecting nothing, and then the lady told him all she had seen, pretending it was a dream. "Fair lady," said he, "dreams are nothing: they are but fables." "They may be fables," said she; "but is this a fable?" and she produced the hand and ring. Upon this the constables rushed in and took him; and the tradition further says, he was burnt, notwithstanding Queen Mary tried to save him, on account of the religion he professed.

    F. L.

Cure for Warts.—Steal a piece of meat from a butcher's stall or his basket, and after having well rubbed the parts affected with the stolen morsel, bury it under a gateway, at a four lane ends, or, in case of emergency, in any secluded place. All this must be done so secretly as to escape detection: and as the portion of meat decays the warts will disappear. This practice is very prevalent in Lancashire and some parts of Yorkshire; and two of my female acquaintances having tried the remedy, stoutly maintain its efficacy.

    T. T. W.

Burnley.

Another Charm for Warts.—Referring to Emdee's charm for warts, which appeared in Vol. ii., p. 19., I may state that a very similar superstition prevails in the neighbourhood of Manchester:—Take a piece of twine, making upon it as many knots as there are warts to be removed; touch each wart with the corresponding knot; and bury the twine in a moist place, saying at the same time, "There is none to redeem it besides thee." As the process of decay goes on, the warts gradually disappear.

    H.

Charm for the Cure of the King's Evil.—Acting on the advice of your able correspondent Emdee (Vol. i., p. 429.), I beg to forward the following curious and cruel charm for the cure of the king's evil, extracted from a very quaint old work by William Ellis, farmer of Little Gaddesden, near Hempstead, Herts, published at Salisbury in 1750:—

"A girl at Gaddesden, having the evil in her Feet from her Infancy, at eleven years old lost one of her toes by it, and was so bad that she could hardly walk, therefore was to be sent to a London Hospital in a little time. But a Beggar woman coming to the Door and hearing of it, said, that if they would cut off the hind leg, and the fore leg on the contrary side of that, of a toad, and she wear them in a silken bag about her neck, it would certainly cure her; but it was to be observed, that on the toad's losing its legs, it was to be turned loose abroad, and as it pined, wasted, and died, the distemper would likewise waste and die; which happened accordingly, for the girl was entirely cured by it, never having had the evil afterwards. Another Gaddesden girl having the evil in her eyes, her parents dried a toad in the sun, and put it in a silken bag, which they hung on the back part of her neck; and although it was thus dried, it drawed so much as to raise little blisters, but did the girl a great deal of service, till she carelessly lost it."

    David Stevens.

Godalming.

Fig-Sunday.—One of my Sunday-school boys, in reply to my question "What particular name was there for the Sunday before Easter?" answered "Fig-Sunday."

Can you give any authentic information as to the origin of this name? It most probably alludes to our Saviour's desire to eat fruit of the fig-tree on his way from Bethany on the Monday following.

Hone mentions that at a village in Hertfordshire, more figs are sold in that week than at any other period of the year; but assigns no reason for the custom. If you have met with any satisfactory explanation of this name, I shall feel obliged by your making it public.

    B. D.

NOTE ON A PASSAGE IN HUDIBRAS

Butler, in his description of Hudibras, says (Part I. c. i. line 453.) that the knight

"–wore but one Spur,
As wisely knowing, cou'd he stir
To active Foot one side of 's Horse,
The other wou'd not hang an A–."

Gray, the most copious annotator on the poem, passes these lines in silence; and it is probable, therefore, that the description is taken by readers in general as an original sketch. I find, however, in a volume entitled Gratiæ Ludentes: Jests from the Universitie, by H. L., Oxen. [sic], London, 1638, the following, which may have been in Butler's mind:—

"One that wore but one Spurre.

"A scholler being jeer'd on the way for wearing but one Spurre, said, that if one side of his horse went on, it was not likely that the other would stay behinde."

As compilers of jest-books do nothing but copy from their predecessors, it is likely that this joke may be found elsewhere, though I have not met with it in any other collection. At all events, the date of the vol. from which I quote is in favour of Butler's intimacy with its contents; and as it is interesting, even in so trivial a matter, to trace the resources of our popular authors, you may perhaps think it worth while to include the above in a number of the "Notes."

    Desconocido.

COFFEE, BLACK BROTH