Tales and Legends of the English Lakes Part 18

[7] _Lonsdale Magazine_, vol. ii. p. 313.

[8] _Coniston Hall_, by Rev. W. GRESLEY, M.A., p. 135.

[9] Hutchinson's _History of c.u.mberland_, p. 420, vol. i.

[10] _Westmoreland and c.u.mberland Ill.u.s.trated_, p. 217.

[11] _Lonsdale Magazine_, vol. ii. p. 425.

[12] Clarke's _Wonders of the World_.

[13] Wilkinson's _Tours to the British Mountains_, pp. 64, 65.

[14] Clarke's _Wonders of the World_, pp. 434, 435.

RUSTIC POETS OF THE LAKE DISTRICT.

JOHN OLDLAND AND JAMIE MUCKELT.

Among the various traits of local character in the English Lake district, there is not perhaps, one more amusing than that propensity to rhyming which a number of individuals has exhibited, in all the rustic grace of native ignorance. A few instances of this nature can only be admitted within the limited compa.s.s of these pages, but they will not be without their interest to those who feel a pleasure in tracing the una.s.sisted efforts of natural genius.

John Oldland was an inhabitant of Crosthwaite, existing about the beginning of the last century. His propensity to rhyming was such, that many of his rhymes, as they are provincially called, are still repeated by the older inhabitants of the neighbourhood. A few, and but a few of these rhymes, we shall here insert.

When he attended Ulverston market, as he generally did, he put up at the Dog, in Dalton Gate, then kept by Betty Woodburn and her husband, though now gone and forgotten. Audland, as he was called, was so much addicted to rhyming, that he did it on all occasions with various success; the following, though still remembered, is one of his clumsy attempts:--Calling one Thursday at the public-house door with some other farmers, the landlord replied in his politest manner, "Coming, Sir." On which Audland, looking up at the sign, observed:--

"This dog he runs wi' his tail to the south, But co' on the landlord, an' he'll gi' mouth."

Once when his landlady, at the Dog, had urged him to clear off a long score, which he had run up at the house, he gave her the following promissory note, which was accepted:--

"I, John Oldland, Befoar I gang hence, Owe Betty Woodburn Just six and two pence.

An', Thursday come sennet, I'll pay off the auld scoar, An' wha knas but I may Spend twice as mich moar."

The smartest of John's rhymes was made on the occasion of his being put to trouble (as it is properly termed in the provincial dialect) by a lawyer, for some debt which he had incurred at Ulverston; a proof that not only poets, but all who meddle with rhyme, are poor. John repeated with emphasis--

"G.o.d mead men, An' men mead money; G.o.d mead bees, An' bees mead honey; But the D--l mead lawyers an' tornies, An' pleac'd 'em at U'ston and Daltan i' Forness."

We shall only have room to notice another of these "rustic bards." He too was a Crosthwaite man, but of a more recent date. We do not intend to insinuate that there is any predisposing cause about Crosthwaite, that inclines the inhabitants to rhyme, but it happens that we remember these two at the present moment; by an a.s.sociation of ideas, the one has probably conjured up the other.

Jamie Muckelt was undoubtedly the best rhymer in that part of the country; and, consequently his rhymes have been more carefully preserved than those of any other. We have room, however, for only a few specimens.

Jamie was a farmer; and once, returning from the market he had overset, or, as he called it, capsized the cart. His wife was angry, and eagerly inquired the cause of such an accident. Jamie, with that _sang froid_ for which he was so remarkable, only replied,

"Caerlessly, thou may depend-- Pooin' away at t' helter end."

A common footpath led through a field in which Jamie had a crop of pease one year. These held out a temptation, Jamie considered, to pa.s.sengers to be taking t.i.the in kind. To prevent these depredations he fixed up a board, on which he painted or chalked the following lines:--

"Pray ye, nebbers, dunnet pull; I'll gi' ye a pey-scode when they're full.

If ye it 'em when they're swash, They'll fill yer belly full o' trash."

Muckelt happened once to be at the Punch Bowl in Crosthwaite, in company with Dr. Bell. Jamie's rhyming abilities were pretty well known, and perhaps sometimes a little envied. Be that as it may, the Doctor challenged Jamie to rhyme him for a wager. Jamie, without a moment's study, produced the following stanza:--

"At your request, I'll du me best; But ya' thing I implore-- If Dr. Bell Can du as well, To trouble me no more."

The Doctor acknowledged himself outdone, and paid his forfeit.

On another occasion Jamie had staid at the Punch Bowl till he was rather top-heavy, and fell into the fire and burnt himself. The next day he went to the house to discharge his bill, and gave them, in addition to their regular charge, the following verse:--

"Thear is some men, for want o' sense, Will run ther sels to vast expense; An' I mesel, for want o' greace, Fell into t' fire an' burnt me feace."

Meeting with a friend one day, in the shambles at Kendal, he said,

"Come, nebber, let us join, If thou'll buy t' leg I'll buy t' loin; If thou'll buy t' head I'll buy t' pluck; An' we'll hev a quart at t' Dog an' Duck."

Many other instances of this rhyming propensity, through all the country, might be produced, would our limits permit.

THE HART'S-HORN TREE.

A TRADITION OF PENRITH.

Four miles from Penrith, near the road to Appleby, and in the district which, to this day, bears the name of Whinfell Forest, there formerly stood a fine oak, which bore the name of Hart's-Horn Tree, a name it acquired from a tradition to this effect. In the time of the first Robert de Clifford, about the year 1333, Edward Baliol, King of Scotland, came into Westmorland, and stayed some time with that Lord, at his castles of Appleby, Brougham, and Pendragon. During his visit they ran a stag by a single greyhound, out of Whinfell Forest to Redkirke in Scotland, and back again to the same place. Being both spent, the stag leaped over the pales, and died there; but the greyhound attempting to leap, fell, and died on the opposite side. As a memorial of this incident, the stag's horns were nailed upon a tree just by; and the dog being named Hercules, this couplet obtained currency amongst the people--

"Hercules kill'd Hart-a-grease,[15]

And Hart-a-grease killed Hercules."

"Then went they down into a laund, These n.o.ble archers three; Eche of them slew a hart of greece, The best that they could see."

_Song of Adam Bell._

In course of time, it is stated, the horns became grafted, as it were, upon the tree, by reason of its bark growing over their root, and there they remained more than three centuries, till, in the year 1648, one of the branches was broken off by some of the army; and ten years afterwards, the remainder was secretly taken down by some mischievous people in the night. "So, now," says Lady Ann Clifford, in her _Diary_, "there is no part thereof remaining, the tree itself being so decayed, and the bark of it so peeled off, that it cannot last long; whereby we may see time brings to forgetfulness many memorable things in this world, be they ever so carefully preserved--for this tree, with the hart's horn in it, was a thing of much note in these parts."

In another part of the same forest, which, like many other forests in this country, as Skiddaw forest, Inglewood forest, &c., has no trace of what it has been but the name, there stood, a few years ago, three enormous oak trees, known by the name of the "Three Brothers." One of them measured thirteen yards in girth.

[15] Dr. Percy, in a note to the poem, a stanza of which is given below, explains "heart o' grease," or "greece," to mean a fat animal, from the French word _graisse_.

THE QUAKERESS BRIDE.

A TALE OF THE MOUNTAINS.