elm (Ulmus fulva) were provided for the new fire.  One of the logs was from six to eight inches in diameter and from eight to ten feet long; the other was from ten to twelve inches in diameter and about ten feet long.  About midway across the larger log a cuneiform notch or cut about six inches deep was made, and in the wedge-shaped notch punk was placed.  The other log was drawn rapidly to and fro in the cut by four strong men chosen for the purpose until the punk was ignited by the friction thus produced.  Before and during the progress of the work of igniting the fire the shaman votively sprinkled tcar-hu’-en-we, ‘real tobacco,’ three several times into the cuneiform notch and offered earnest prayers to the Fire-god, beseeching him ’to aid, to bless, and to redeem the people from their calamities.’  The ignited punk was used to light a large bonfire, and then the head of every family was required to take home ‘new fire’ to rekindle a fire in his or her fire-place."[742]

Sec. 9. The Sacrifice of an Animal to stay a Cattle-Plague

[The burnt sacrifice of a calf in England and Wales; burnt sacrifice a pig in Scotland.]

Sometimes apparently in England as well as in Scotland the kindling of a need-fire was accompanied by the sacrifice of a calf.  Thus in Northamptonshire, at some time during the first half of the nineteenth century, “Miss C——­ and her cousin walking saw a fire in a field and a crowd round it.  They said, ‘What is the matter?’ ‘Killing a calf.’  ’What for?’ ‘To stop the murrain.’  They went away as quickly as possible.  On speaking to the clergyman he made enquiries.  The people did not like to talk of the affair, but it appeared that when there is a disease among the cows or the calves are born sickly, they sacrifice (i.e. kill and burn) one ‘for good luck.’"[743] It is not here said that the fire was a need-fire, of which indeed the two horrified ladies had probably never heard; but the analogy of the parallel custom in Mull[744] renders it probable that in Northamptonshire also the fire was kindled by the friction of wood, and that the calf or some part of it was burnt in the fire.  Certainly the practice of burning a single animal alive in order to save all the others would seem to have been not uncommon in England down to the nineteenth century.  Thus a farmer in Cornwall about the year 1800, having lost many cattle by disease, and tried many remedies in vain, consulted with some of his neighbours and laying their heads together “they recalled to their recollections a tale, which tradition had handed down from remote antiquity, that the calamity would not cease until he had actually burned alive the finest calf which he had upon his farm; but that, when this sacrifice was made, the murrain would afflict his cattle no more.”  Accordingly, on a day appointed they met, lighted a large fire, placed the best calf in it, and standing round the blazing pile drove the animal with pitchforks back into the flames whenever