namely, Allhallows, called in Manx Laa 'll mooar ny Saintsh, 'the Day of the great Feast of the Saints'.
Lastly, I may mention that it is unlucky to say that you are very well: at any rate, I infer that it is regarded so, as you will never get a Manxman to say that he is feer vie, 'very well'. He usually admits that he is 'middling'; and if by any chance he risks a stronger adjective, he hastens to qualify it by adding 'now' or 'just now', with an emphasis indicative of his anxiety not to say too much. His habits of speech point back to a time when the Manx mind was dominated by the fear of awaking malignant influences in the spirit-world around him. This has had the effect of giving the Manx peasant's character a tinge of reserve and suspicion, which makes it difficult to gain his confidence: his acquaintance has, therefore, to be cultivated for some time before you can say that you know the workings of his heart. The pagan belief in a Nemesis has doubtless passed away, but not without materially affecting the Manx idea of a personal devil. Ever since the first allusion made in my presence by Manxmen to the devil, I have been more and more deeply impressed that the Manx devil is a much more formidable being than Englishmen or Welshmen picture him. He is a graver and, if I may say so, a more respectable being, allowing no liberties to be taken with his name, so you had better not call him a Devil, the Evil One, or like names, for his proper designation is Noid ny Hanmey, 'the Enemy of the Soul', and in ordinary Anglo-Manx conversation he is commonly called 'the Enemy of Souls'. The Manx are, as a rule, a sober people, and highly religious; as regards their theological views, they are mostly members of the Church of England or Wesleyan Methodists, or else both, which is by no means unusual. Religious phrases are not rare in their ordinary conversation; in fact, they struck me as being of more frequent occurrence than in Wales, even the Wales of my boyhood; and here and
