son-in-law without mentioning him by name. I do not pretend to say whether or not there ever was a time when Englishmen dared not let their wives know or use their names, for fear that, if they did, the “missis would be master”, as our folk say. But, as a matter of fact, an old-fashioned cottager’s wife rarely speaks of her husband, or of any other married man with reference to his position as a husband, by name. The pronoun he, supplemented sometimes by “my man”, or “my master”, is found sufficient distinction, and (unconsciously to themselves, as I think) their taboo on names is nearly as strong as that of the House of Commons. I never did hear any old labourer tell the story of the careless woman who betrayed her husband’s name to his enemy as she sang her baby to sleep, but it would fit in well with the habits of our village wives, in this county, at least.
Another folk-tale which agrees exactly with the ideas of our people is that of King Lear. I have seen a local deed of the fifteenth century, by which a father and mother surrendered all their property to their son and daughter, on condition of receiving maintenance for life; but now our people are strongly convinced of the imprudence of such an arrangement; and I have known an old woman, to whom such a proposal was made, reply by the proverbial saying, coined to express the popular disapprobation of it, “No, no, I winna doff off my shoon afore I go to bed!”
On many other matters our folk have their own ways of thinking and acting, their own code of morals. They cannot be trusted to keep a promise; their word is not “as good as their bond”. “Promises are like pie-crust, made to be broken,” says their proverb—an opinion which, I believe, lies at the root of all pledges, tokens, and ceremonial compacts whatsoever. But if a bargain be “struck”, or “wetted”, or if a shilling “earnest” be given to bind it, then “the case is altered”, and your man will be true to his engagement. A lie, again, is reckoned a very venial
