MISCELLANEA.
Notes on Professor J. Rhys's Manx Folk-lore and Superstitions.—The following notes relative to the old beliefs which still survive among the descendants of the Vikings in Lincolnshire have been put together to show the striking affinity existing between the eastern counties folk-lore and the Manx superstitions recorded by Professor Rhys.
Whether the water-bull still inhabits our streams is doubtful, but the deep pools formed by the action of the down-flowing water at the bends of our country becks are known as "bull-holes", and the Tatter-foal, Tatter-colt, or Shag-foal, as he is variously named, is still to be heard of, although his visits are rarer than they were before the fens and cars were drained, and the open fields and commons enclosed. This Tatter-foal is a goblin, who appears in the shape of a small horse, or yearling foal, in its rough, unkempt coat, and beguiles lonely travellers with innumerable tricks; a favourite device with him being to lure an unsuspecting wayfarer into a stream, swamp, or water-hole, after which exploit he vanishes with a long outburst of mockery, half neigh, half human laughter. With reference to the Manx Fenodyree, I may mention, that he had till lately a diminutive Lincolnshire cousin, who, like the Yorkshire Hob, and Robin-Round-Cap, and the Danish Niss, used to befriend the people of the house in which he dwelt. The story runs that "not so very many years gone by" a farm in the parish of Goxhill (or in the neighbouring parish of East Halton, for accounts differ) was haunted by a weeny bit of a fellow who used to do all kinds of work about the fields, stackyard, and dairy. Once, it is said, at shearing-time, the master of the house forgot to order his men to drive the sheep up over-night ready for the clippers, so he rose early and was just setting out to fetch them from the pasture when he heard a sound of bleating in the barn. Hastening to open the door, he found that not an animal was wanting. Every sheep had been brought in from the field; and, what was stranger stilly a fine hare was imprisoned along with the flock. While he was wondering at the sight before him, a shrill voice from the rafters above-head declared that the little grey sheep had been more difficult to drive than all the rest of the herd together, and, lo and behold! there sat the manikin on one of the cross-beams of the roof. In gratitude for his help and
