"The races date as far back as 1713, for, on the 2nd of February in that year, an order was issued by the Mayor and Corporation of Ripon to level the High Common 'fitting for a horse course.' The support they received from the Corporation was considerable; aided by the munificent donations of John Aislabie, Esq., of Studley Royal, Chancellor of the Exchequer, 1718-1720. In those days the horses in one of the most important races were ridden by women; and on such occasions Mrs. Aislabie contributed the plate, or the money for the prize. In 1826 these ancient races were put a stop to by the enclosure of the High Common; but in 1836, Mr. Haygarth, a publican, got up some races on a small scale, in his own fields, which roused the old sporting spirit of the town, and induced several respectable individuals to form themselves into a committee, when the present ground-a pleasant spot on the north banks of the Ure, and a good mile from the city-was selected, and here they have been carried on ever since."

The Ripon Observer, which reproduces this article in its issue of July 30, 1908, adds the following remarks:

"In 1844, though Daguerre had achieved important results some four or five years earlier, there was no photography as we now know it, and the snap-shotter hadn't begun his ubiquitous work. The pictures, therefore, may be regarded as sketches, but of a very realistic and highly accurate order. The racecourse in those days was on the north side of the river Ure at the foot of the Red Hills. For many year the races were run on the High Common, but in 1826 this was enclosed and the races were dormant until 1836, when they were revived and the Red Hills racecourse laid out. They continued here till 1865 when they were removed to Red Bank. With regard to Wilfrid himself as he appears in the picture, the inference is that he was at that time an effigy. Old inhabitants remember the legend of their early days, that the Patron Saint was brought in by the York waggon-one of the horses of which was used as a mount. The figure was a make up in form of a 'guy' and he was heartily shaken by the hand by the citizens on arrival. Farrar in his history of Ripon (1801) says, 'The feast of St.

the Saturday preceding the day called Wilfrid Sunday an effigy of the prelate is brought into the town, preceded by music, which is generally met by the people, who with tumultuous joy commemorate the return from exile of St. Wilfrid.' It is recorded say a quarter of a century later, that this 'Tumultuous joy' took the form of a call from the leader of the horse on which the Patron Saint was mounted to 'Shout, lads, shout,' and accordingly the lads heartily cheered. In later times 'St. Wilfra' was represented by a person attired in white robes, wearing a mask, and having flowing hair of flaxen colour. His frequent draughts of ale at various hostelries usually led to his having a very unsteady seat in his saddle towards the evening, and the celebration degenerated into what one writer describes as a drunken orgie.' After the Millenary Festival of 1886, in which St. Wilfrid had been represented in suitable episcopal garb, the procession took a more dignified form, and has since. been maintained in a manner befitting one who was famous for his learning and piety, and to whose devotion Ripon undoubtedly owes its continuance as an ecclesiastical centre. For many years the local race committee kept alive the tradition and interest in the Wilfrid procession, but within the last few years the Patron Saint has been adopted by the Corporation, who now see that he is becomingly attired, and sent out on what is now an annual event of increasing historic interest."

[Mr. H. M. Bower of Ripon has kindly forwarded a copy of the Ripon Observer of July 30, 1908, from which the above extracts are taken.—ED.]

DEATH-KNOCK IN THE WAPENTAKE OF CORRINGHAM,

LINCOLNSHIRE.

SUNDAY, January 12th, 1908. A. R. tells me the following story, which she had to-night from her sister, who lives as general servant with Mr. and Mrs. B. :

someone knocking at his bedroom window, so he roused his wife and told her that there must be something wrong at his place of business.

One of them then struck a light, to let anyone who might be outside see that the knocking had awakened them. The noise was not repeated, however.

The next morning a telegram was received which informed them that a brother of Mr. B.'s had died very suddenly in the street at a town on the English channel. The death took place a little before, or a little after, nine o'clock on Wednesday evening; that is, some hours before the knocking was heard in Lincolnshire.

After he received the telegram Mr. B. expressed his conviction that the sound must have been a warning.

M., the girl who related the story to A. R., knew it was certainly true that he had been aroused in the night, for she had heard him talking with Mrs. B., though she had not caught the sound which awoke him.

No doubt it really was a warning, she said. Now she understood why a certain apple-tree had had some blossoms on it for many weeks in the autumn, almost up to Christmas, in fact, although it had borne a crop of apples. She had tried to pelt the flowers off it, but had failed, and such blossoms out of season are very unlucky.

Death-knocks, and similar indications of loss, are not uncommon in Lincolnshire folklore, but this is an up-to-date instance.

My grandfather, Edward Shaw Peacock, believed that he had been warned of the drowning of a friend by the inexplicable shaking of his bedroom window on a day when the air was quite calm.

What I should like to know is, why a connection is assumed to exist between a sharp or light stroke, a dull blow, a shaking or jarring sound, a succession of gentle taps, or an acute rending noise, and the death of some kinsman, or near friend, of the person who hears it? The death-stroke, deathrap, or death-knock is supposed to take all these and other

In the house in which I am writing such noises are of fairly frequent occurrence, but, so far, they have never coincided with a death. One wardrobe gives out a sharp splitting sound, in a most warning-like manner, when it is contracting in dry weather-somewhat to the distress of a superstitious acquaintance of mine. I have also heard what was apparently someone knocking at the front door, and on one occasion the door opened in just the manner it does when anyone is coming in, "Yet nobody seemed a penny the worse."

The strangest sounds occurred some few years ago in broad daylight in summer-time. They seemed exactly like the cracking of newly-lighted firewood, pistols going off, and water overflowing from a tank at the top of the house. The man who had filled the tank was as much deceived as I was. Each went up to see whether water was pouring down the staircase. All the sounds were really caused by the contracting and splitting of the paste which had been used in putting on the wallpapers more than eighteen months before.

MABEL PEACOCK.

"That's like old American Johnny, who used to say he never had his clothes washed: when his shirt rotted on him he bought another.

"Who was he?

"Well, he came from America, and talked down his nose, but I don't know whether he was born there. I never heard what countryman he really was, but he spoke English as if it was his own language, though he was little, and very yellow, like a Japanese or Chinese brought up on rice.

"He was a wicked old man. Such things he'd say. One day, when some children were laughing at him, he told them he was going to hell next day, and would take them with him.

"He talked a lot about hell, and about devils and things being with him all night. One night, he said, devils had been at him all the time, and there was one black one he couldn't get master of, so he should crucify a crow, and he did-nailed it out, you know, wings and feet.