Notes and Queries, Number 41, August 10, 1850 | Page 4

introduction of
Christianity. I am not sufficiently botanist to determine how far it is
possible to destroy the natural habitat of a plant propagated by extrinsic
means, and should be more inclined to account for the difference then

and now by supposing that the Druids may have known the secret of
inoculating a desirable oak with the seeds where birds had not done so,
and practised it when necessary.
P.S. Since writing the above, I recollect that the Latin verse,
"_Ad viscum Druidæ_: Druidæ clamare solebant,"
is frequently quoted from Ovid, sometimes, and that recently,
specifying the Fasti. I need not tell you that it is not to be found there,
and I wish to inquire if any of the numerous readers of your valuable
publication can say where I can meet with it; if classical, it is another
remarkable evidence of the endurance of popular customs to the present
day. In the following quotation from Keyssler's Treatise _de Visco_,
the Anklopferleinstag would be also a noisy demonstration dating from
druidical times, at a period of the year not far removed from the
beginning of November.
"In superiori Germaniæ parte, Marchionatu Onolsbacensi comprehensa,
cujus inolæ plurimas Gentilismi reliquias retinent, regio ipsa multis
Druidum vestigiis abundat, tempore adventus Christi, sive media
Hyeme (am Anklopferleinstag), vulgus per vias et pagos currit
malleisque pulsat fores et fenestras indesinenter clamans _Gutheyl!
Gutheyl!_ Quod quidem non salutem per Christi adventum partam
indicat, quasi diceres: Gut Heyl; bona salus; multo minus fictitam
Sanctam Günthildem, quam rustici illius tractus miris fabulis ac nugis
celebrant, sed nomen ipsum visci est." {164}
The present popular and only German name of the mistletoe, the parent
of our English denomination, is _Mistel_, which is evidently only
_Meist-heyl_ (most heal, or healing), the superlative of the above
_Gut-heyl_, and both wonderfully agreeing with the name which Pliny
says it bore in his time, Omnia sanans.
William Bell, Ph.D.
* * * * *
FOLK LORE.
_Folk Lore of South Northamptonshire._--No. 2.
_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,