Notes and Queries, Number 41, August 10, 1850 eBook

This eBook from the Gutenberg Project consists of approximately 52 pages of information about Notes and Queries, Number 41, August 10, 1850.

Notes and Queries, Number 41, August 10, 1850 eBook

This eBook from the Gutenberg Project consists of approximately 52 pages of information about Notes and Queries, Number 41, August 10, 1850.

Mice.—­A sudden influx of mice into a house, hitherto free from their ravages, denotes approaching mortality among its inhabitants.  A mouse running over a person is considered to be an infallible sign of death, as is also the squeaking of one behind the bed of an invalid, or the appearance or apparition of a white mouse running across the room.  To meet with a shrew-mouse, in going a journey, is reckoned ominous of evil.  The country people have an idea that the harvest-mouse is unable to cross a path which has been trod by man.  Whenever they attempt, they are immediately, as my informant expressed it, “struck dead.”  This, they say, accounts for the numbers which on a summer’s evening may be found lying dead on the verge of the field footpaths, without any external wound or apparent cause for their demise.

Snakes.—­There is a very prevalent belief that a snake can never die till the sun is down.  Cut or hack it as you will, it will never die till sunset.  This idea has evidently its source in the amazing vitality common to the species.

Poultry.—­The crowing of a hen bodes evil, and is frequently followed by the death of some member of the family.  When, therefore, Dame Partlet thus experiments upon the note of her mate, she pays her head as the price of her temerity, a complete severance of the offending member being supposed to be the only way of averting the threatened calamity.  No house, it is said, can thrive whose hens are addicted to this kind of amusement.  Hence the old proverb often quoted in this district: 

  “A whistling woman and a crowing hen,
  Is neither fit for God nor men.”

According to Pluquet, the Normans have a similar belief, and a saying singularly like the English one: 

    “Un Poule qui chante le coq, et une fille qui siffle, portent
    malheur dans la maison.”

Before the death of a farmer his poultry frequently go to roost at noon-day, instead of at the usual time.  When the cock struts up to the door and sounds his clarion on the threshold, the housewife is warned that she may soon expect a stranger.  In what is technically termed “setting a hen,” care is taken that the nest be composed of an odd number of eggs.  If even, the chickens would not prosper.  Each egg is always marked with a little black cross, ostensibly for the purpose of distinguishing them from the others, but also supposed to be instrumental in producing good chickens, and preventing any attack from the weasel or other farm-yard marauders.  The last egg the hen lays is carefully preserved, its possession being supposed to operate as a charm upon the well-doing of the poultry.  In some cases, though less commonly, the one laid on Good Friday is preserved, from the same reason.  When a baby is first taken out to see its friends, it is customary for them to give it an egg:  this, if preserved, is held to be a source of good fortune to the future man. (Vide Brand, ii. p. 48.) The first egg laid by a pullet is usually secured by the shepherd, in order to present to his sweetheart,—­the luckiest gift, it is believed, he can give her.

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Notes and Queries, Number 41, August 10, 1850 from Project Gutenberg. Public domain.