CHAPTER II. THE FOLK-LORE OF CHILDHOOD

“Why this is the best fooling when all is done.”--_Twelfth
    Night._

The trite saying that “children and fools are soothsayers” goes
straight to the heart of those familiar superstitions with which the
folk-lore of childhood abounds. We, the children of a larger growth,
often call to mind with what avidity we listened in our childhood’s
days to the nursery tales of giants, dwarfs, ghosts, fairies, and the
like creations of pure fancy. We still remember how instantly all the
emotions of our childish nature were excited by the recital of these
marvels--told us, too, with such an air of truth, that never for a
moment did we doubt them. Oh, how we hated Blue Beard, and how we
adored Jack the Giant-Killer! Are we not treated, just as soon as we
are out of the cradle, as if superstition was the first law of nature?
What is the wonder, then, that the effects of these early impressions
are not easily got rid of, or the impressions themselves soon, if ever,
forgotten? “Brownie” is put into the arms of toddling infants before
they can articulate two words plainly. Just as soon as the child is
able to prattle a little, it is taught the familiar nursery rhyme of

    “Bye, bye, Baby Bunting,
    Papa’s gone a-hunting,”

drawn from ancient folk-lore, with which the rabbit and hare are so
intimately associated. After the innocent face rhymes, found with
little variation, in no less than four different languages, giving
names to each of the chubby little features,--

    “Eyes winker, Tom Tinker,” etc.

come the well-known button rhymes, like this:

    “Rich man, poor man, beggar man, thief,
    Doctor, lawyer, merchant, chief;”

or this one, told centuries ago to children across the water:--

    “A tinker, a tailor,
    A soldier or sailor,
    A rich man, a poor man,
    A priest or a parson,
    A ploughman or a thief.”

The virgin soil being thus artfully prepared to receive superstition,
the boy or girl goes forth among playmates similarly equipped, with
them to practice various forms of conjuration in their innocent sports,
without in the least knowing what they are doing. Here are a few of
them:--

Making a cross upon the ground before your opponent, at the same time
muttering “criss-cross,” when playing at marbles, to make him miss his
shot, as I have often seen done in my schoolboy days. This is merely a
relic of that superstition attached to making the sign of the cross, as
a charm against the power of evil spirits.

The innocent sounding words “criss-cross” we believe originally to have
been Christ’s Cross.

Children of both sexes count apple seeds by means of the pretty
jingling rhymes, so like to the German flower oracle, often employed by
children of a larger growth. It has been set to music.

    “One I love,
    Two I love.
    Three I love, I say,
    Four I love with all my heart,
    Five I cast away;
    Six he loves,
    Seven she loves,
    Eight both love;
    Nine he comes,
    Ten he tarries,
    Eleven he courts,
    Twelve he marries.”

Holding the pretty field buttercup under another’s chin, in order to
see if he or she loves butter, is a good form of divination. So is the
practice of blowing off the fluffy dandelion top, after the flower has
gone to seed, to determine the hour, as that flower always opens at
about five in the morning, and shuts at about eight in the evening,
thus making it stand in the room of a clock for shepherds. This plant
has also been called the rustic oracle. To find the time of day, as
many puffs as it takes to blow away the downy seed balls gives the
answer. The same method of divination is employed by children to find
out if their mothers want them; or to waft a message to some loved one;
or to know if such or such a person is thinking of them; and whether he
or she lives north, east, south, or west.

To the same general purport is the invocation:

    “Rain, rain, go away,
    Come again another day.”

We understand that the equally familiar form,--

    “Snail, snail, put out your horn,”

is repeated in China as well as in this country, though sometimes
altered to

    “Snail, snail, come out of your hole,
    Or else I’ll beat you black as a coal.”

One equally familiar form of childish invocation appears in the pretty
little lady-bird rhyme, so often repeated by the young:--

    “Lady-bird, lady-bird,
    Fly away home,
    Your house is on fire,
    Your children will burn.”

A favorite way, with boys, of choosing sides for a game of ball is by
measuring the stick. To do this, the leader of one side first heaves
the stick in the air, skilfully catching it, as it falls, at a point as
near a hand’s-breadth to the end as possible, as his opponent must then
measure the stick with him, alternately hand-over-hand, from the point
where it is caught. The one securing enough of the last of the stick
for a hold, has the first choice. This is determination by lot.

Still another form of invocation, formerly much used to clinch a
bargain between boys, when “swapping” jack-knives or marbles, runs to
this effect:--

    “Chip, chop, chay,
    Give a thing, give a thing,
    Never take it back again.”

The process of counting a person out in the familiar phrase as being
“it,” is fairly traced back to the ancient custom of designating a
criminal from among his fellows by lot. The form that we know the best
in New England, a sort of barbaric doggerel, according to Mr. Burton,
is still current in Cornwall, England, and goes in this wise:--

    “Ena, mena, bora, mi:
    Kisca, lara, mova, di:
    Eggs, butter, cheese, bread,
    Stick, stock, stone dead.”

The resemblance between the foregoing, and what is current among
playfellows on this side of the water easily suggests that the boys
of the “good Old Colony times,” so often referred to with a sigh of
regret, brought their games and pastimes along with them. As now
remembered, the doggerel charm runs as follows:--

    “Eny, meny, mony might,
    Huska, lina, bony tight,
    Huldy, guldy, boo!”

In getting ready for a game of “tag,” “I spy,” or “hide and seek,” the
one to whom this last magic word falls becomes the victim or is said to
be “it.” So in like manner the rhymed formula, following, is employed
in counting a child “out”:--

    “One-ery, two-ery, ickery Ann,
    Fillicy, fallicy, Nicholas, John,
    Queever, quaver, English knaver,
    Stinckelum, stanckelum, Jericho, buck.”

A more simple counting-out rhyme is this:

    “One, two, three,
    Out goes he (or she).”

“Tit, tat, toe,” is still another form, repeated with variations
according to locality.

These few examples may serve to show that what the performers
themselves regard only as a simple expedient in the arranging of their
games, if they ever give the matter a thought, is really a survival of
the belief in the efficacy of certain magical words, turned into rhyme,
to propitiate success. If this idea had not been instilled into our
children by long custom and habit, it is not believed that they would
continue to repeat such unmeaning drivel. Yet, as childish as it may
seem, it advances us one step in solving the intricate problem in hand;
for here, too, “the child is father to the man.”