Notes and Queries, Number 76, April 12, 1851

Me to dance, me to dance,
My mither learned me to dance
Bab at the bowster brawly."

After which, throwing down the "bowster" or cushion before one of the opposite sex, they both kneel upon it, and kiss one another affectionately.

I never heard any words save the above; but a friend from a neighbouring county (Dumbartonshire) informs me, that with them it is sometimes changed into

"Wha gi'ed you the keys to keep,
The keys to keep," &c.

There are also other variations which I believe I can procure, should they be desired by Mac or others. I should perhaps mention, for the benefit of Southrons, that almost all untravelled Scotchmen in conversation use the verb to learn in place of the verb to teach.

    Y.

Glasgow.

The dance in Scotland called "Bab at the Bowster" is always the winding up at "kirns" and other merrymakings, and is most likely similar to the cushion-dance. The tune to which it is danced has words belonging to it. The beginning lines are—

"There's braw yill,
Down at the mill,
Bab at the bowster," &c.

    L. M. M. R.

OLIVER CROMWELL AND HIS DEALINGS WITH THE DEVIL

(Vol. iii., p. 207.)

Among the papers of an old personal friend and correspondent of the "Sylvanus Urban" of his day,—a clergyman of the good old school, who died a quarter of a century ago, aged eighty-six, I find the inclosed. It may possibly lead to the further elucidation of one of the Notes of B. B. It is unfortunate that no date is attached to it, nor any intimation of its history. Its owner was the intimate friend of Bennet, Bishop of Cloyne, of Dr. Farmer, of Burgess, Bishop of St. David's (afterwards Salisbury), and other eminent divines of his time.

With this MS. was inclosed another, in more modern writing; but, from the orthography, copied from an older paper, headed "Private Amours of Oliver Cromwell." It is very short, and also without date. It is at your service if desired.

    S. H. H.

A NARRATIVE CONCERNING CROMWELL'S DEALINGS WITH THE D–L

"On y

3d of Sept., in y

morning, Cromwell took Colonel Lindsey, his intimate friend, and first Capt. of his regiment, to a wood side not far from y

army, and bid him alight and follow him into that wood, & take particular notice of what he saw & heard.

"After they had both alighted & secured their horses, & walked some small way into the wood, Lindsey began to turn pale, & to be seiz'd with horrour, from some unknown cause; upon wch Cromwell askt him how he did, or how he felt himself. He answered, that he was in such a trembling & consternation that he never felt y

like in all y

conflicts and battles he had been engaged in: But wether it proceeded from the gloomyness of y

place, or y

temperament of his body, he knew not. 'How now?' said Cromwell. 'What! trowbled with vapours? Come forward, man.' They had not gon above 20 yards before Lindsey on a sudden stood still and cry'd out, by all that's good he was seized with such unaccountable terrours & astonishment that it was impossible for him to stir one step further. Upon which Cromwell call'd him faint-hearted fool, & bid him stand there & observe or be witness: and then advancing to some distance from him, he met with a grave elderly man, with a roll of parchment in his hand, who deliver'd it to Cromwell, who eagerly perused it. Lindsey, a little recover'd from his fear, heard severall loud words betwixt them: particularly Cromwell said, 'This is but for seven year. I was to have it for 21, and it must and shall be so.' The other told him positively it could not be for above seven; upon which Cromwell cry'd with a great fierceness, it shd be, however, for 14 year; but the other person plorily declared it could not possibly be for any longer time: and if he woud not take it so, there was others that woud accept of it: Upon which Cromwell at last took y

parchment, and returning to Lindsey with great joy in his countenance, he cry'd, 'Now, Lindsey, the battle's our own: I long to be engag'd.' Returning out of the wood, they rode to y

army. Cromwell with a resolution to engage as soon as possible, & y

other with a design of leaving y

army as soon. After y

first charge Lindsey deserted his post, and rode away with all possible speed, day and night, till he came into y

county of Norfolk, to y

house of an intimate friend, and minister of that parish: Cromwell, as soon as he mist him, sent all ways after him, with a promise of a great reward to any that w'd bring him alive or dead.

"Thus far y

narrative of Lindsey himself; but something further is to be remembered to complete & confirm y

story.

"When Mr. Thorowgood saw his friend Lindsey come into his yard, his horse and himself just tired, in a sort of amaze he said, 'How, now, Colonel; we hear there is like to be a battle shortly. What! fled from your colours?' 'A battle!' said y

other; 'yes, there has bin a battle, and I am sure y

King is beaten. If ever I strike a stroke for Cromwell again, may I perish eternally, for I am sure he has made a league with y

Devil, and he will have him in due time.' Then, desiring his protection from Cromwell's inquisitors, he went in & related y

whole story, and all the circumstances, concluding with these remarkable words, That Cromwell w'd certainly die that day seven year that the battle was fought.

"The strangeness of his relation caused Mr. Thorowgood to order his son John, then about 12 years of age, to write it in full length in his common place book, & to take it from Lindsey's own mouth. This common place book, and likewise y

same story writen in other books, I am sure is still preserv'd in y

family of y

Thorowgoods: But how far Lindsey is to be believed, & how far y

story is to be accounted incredible, is left to y

reader's faith and judgment, & not to any determination of our own."

Replies to Minor Queries

Gig Hill (Vol. iii., p. 222.).—Perhaps your correspondent is mistaken in saying that "there is no indication of anything in the land to warrant the name." At least, the very fact of its being a hill is suspicious. If I could venture to affront you with a pun, I should say, that it seems to me very natural that the top of a hill should look like a gig. Mercy on us! do words wear out so fast? Why, I have not reached three-score, and did not I "whip my gig" when I was an "infant"?—not an infant born in a remote province, sucking in archaism with my mother's milk, playing with heirloom toys, and calling them by obsolete names, but a smart little cockney, born and bred in the parish of St. Andrew, Holborn, where, no doubt, there were gig-whipping brats plenty. In the crowded state of your columns, you would not thank me for enlarging on the top-hic, or I should really feel disposed to enter into a dissertation on the nature and characteristic differences of whipping-tops, humming-tops, peg-tops, and gigs. As to the latter, it certainly occurs to me, now that the question is raised, that I have not seen such a thing for a long time; though I fancy gigs lying in the shop-windows, as they did at a period when I was more likely to observe them; and if they have become so far forgotten, it may be worth while, for the sake of Shakspeare, to say that they were generally (as far as I remember always) made of horn; and therefore, when Holofernes says "Go, whip thy gig" (which means just the same as Mr. Oldbuck's "Sew your sampler, monkey!"), Moth replies, "Lend me your horn to make one, and I will whip about your infamy circum circa; a gig of a cuckold's horn!" It is enough to add that the gig was made of the tip of the horn, and looked, while spinning, like an inverted extinguisher. It was hollow, but my impression is that there was sometimes lead at the bottom of the inside. Even with the ballast, it was a ticklish, volatile, kickety thing, much more difficult to set up and to keep up than the sober whipping-top, and bearing somewhat the same relation to one in bulk and motion, that a ship's gig may do to herself, or a gig on land to a coach. As to Gig Hill, however, unless it has a conical top, some other explanation must be sought.