An old Ballad.—Has the following ballad ever been printed, and if so where? I heard it from a relative of Dr. Birkbeck Hill's, in whose family it is traditional. A young man on his way to the gallows appeals to his parents and brethren in the following terms:—
"Hold up, hold up your hands so high,
Hold up your hands so high.
For I think I see my own mother coming o'er yonder stile to me.
Oh mother hast thou any gold for me,
Any money to bay me free.
To save my body from the cold clay ground and my head from the gallows tree?"
Mother, father, and brethren all refuse him aid:—
"Oh no, I have no gold for thee,
No money to buy thee free,
For I have come to see thee hanged, and hanged thou shalt be."
But his sweetheart is kinder and buys him off. At the end of each verse is the refrain —
"Oh the briars, the prickly briars,
They prick my heart full sore.
If ever I get free
From the gallows tree
I never get there any more."
Selling by Inch of Candle.—In relation to a very curious custom which is annually observed in the little village of Tatworth, near Chard, it would be interesting to learn whether a similar practice is carried out in any other part of this country. It appears that there is in the village referred to a certain piece of land, measuring six acres and one perch, which has no legal owner, but the owners of certain properties in the vicinity are recognised as entitled to share the annual value of it, which value is, however, as a rule, very small. Those who claim a right by virtue of property they hold meet yearly at the village inn to let the land for one year, and appoint a steward, whose duty it is to see that the proceeds are divided among those who claim rights. The most curious part of the matter is the manner in which the field is let. The meeting is styled a court, and is strictly private, no one save those interested being admitted to the room. The steward presides over the court, and an inch of tallow-candle is
