the same idea in Lethe, "the place of forgetfulness" in the underworld, and the river of which when the dead drank they forgot their homes and infant children, while the modern shepherd of the islands knows of a mountain plant, "the grass of denial," of which when the sheep eat they forget their young.1 1 So far I have been dealing with some of the many folk-lore incidents which occur in the epics. From what I have said of the provenience of these incidents as illustrated by the references attached to this paper, it will, I think, be found that it is impossible to trace any stratification of these in the various cantos or lays into which some critics divide the Iliad. So far, this may be considered evidence in support of the view that the Iliad and Odyssey belong to a single age, if they are not the work of a single author. But this argument must not be pressed too far. The number of facts is not large enough to base a safe induction upon them. Some ideas would naturally be selected for use by the poet when dealing with special episodes in the story which he selected for treatment. Or, again, it is possible that such incidents may have become part of the stock epic machinery, and be used by one poet after another when dealing with subjects of the same class. W. CROOKE. (To be continued.) Bent, Journal Anthropological Institute, xv. 395; Frazer, Pausanias, v. 202; Miss Cox, Cinderella, 512 f.; Grimm, Household Tales, ii. 393; Ralston, Russian Folk Tales, 305. Another of these magic drugs is that which Helen learnt from Polydamnia of Egypt, that home of magic and mystery : "But Helen now on new device did stand, All thought of ill. Who drunk the cup should shed He should see murdered there before his face."1 This drug of forgetfulness is a stock element in the folk-tales. In the Norse legend Grimhild gives a potion, the Ominnis-öl, to Sigfried, which makes him forget his love, Brunhild, and the same draught she gives to her daughter, Gudrun. We have the Nepenthe of Homer in the "insane herb" eaten by the companions of Sindibad, which some have tried to identify with the oriental hemp. We meet it also in the Arab tale of the "Ensorcelled Prince," and in the Hindu story Koila procures a drug from the dancing-women which causes him to forget his home, his wife, his child, as in the Irish tale the Druids give Cuchulainn the draught of oblivion.2 In the Chinese purgatory the drink of forgetfulness is administered by an old beldame, Mother Meng. "Whether they swallow much or little it matters not; but sometimes there are perverse devils, who altogether refuse to drink. Then beneath their feet sharp blades start up, and a copper tube is put down their throats by force, by which they are compelled to swallow some." The Greeks had "3 25, iii. 350; Miss Garnett, Women of Turkey, ii. 2 f.; Hastings, Dictionary of the Bible, iii. 234. 1 Od. iv. 220 ff. 2 Corpus Poet. Borcale, i. 289, 393, 395; Grimm, Teutonic Mythology, iii. 1101; Burton, Nights, i. 65; iv. 376; Wilkinson, Ancient Egyptians, ii. 412; Miss Frere, Old Deccan Days, 256; O'Curry, Manners and Customs of the Ancient Irish, ii. 198. the same idea in Lethe, "the place of forgetfulness" in the underworld, and the river of which when the dead drank they forgot their homes and infant children, while the modern shepherd of the islands knows of a mountain plant, "the grass of denial," of which when the sheep eat they forget their young.1 So far I have been dealing with some of the many folk-lore incidents which occur in the epics. From what I have said of the provenience of these incidents as illustrated by the references attached to this paper, it will, I think, be found that it is impossible to trace any stratification of these in the various cantos or lays into which some critics divide the Iliad. So far, this may be considered evidence in support of the view that the Iliad and Odyssey belong to a single age, if they are not the work of a single author. But this argument must not be pressed too far. The number of facts is not large enough to base a safe induction upon them. Some ideas would naturally be selected for use by the poet when dealing with special episodes in the story which he selected for treatment. Or, again, it is possible that such incidents may have become part of the stock epic machinery, and be used by one poet after another when dealing with subjects of the same class. (To be continued.) W. CROOKE. 'Bent, Journal Anthropological Institute, xv. 395; Frazer, Pausanias, v. 202; Miss Cox, Cinderella, 512 f.; Grimm, Household Tales, ii. 393; Ralston, Russian Folk Tales, 305. COLLECTANEA. THE LAZY WIFE: A MANX FOLK-TALE. THIS story was told from memory by a Peel woman who heard it some sixty years ago from her mother. She had heard the Manx verse given in Manx Ballads (A. W. Moore), at a Manx Concert in January, 1907, and she told me that she had a different story and knew another verse of the song. I have taken her yarn down as nearly as possible as she told it, but when it came to the name-guessing, she said that she had forgotten the names now, but that she knew that "The Lazy Wife guessed a power of names-all she knew or ever heard tell of." I have taken the liberty of giving names to her guesses, so as to make a better story and also so as to preserve an old tradition about there being only seven families on the Island at one time whose names all began with "Myl." Mylrea, Mylroi, Mylvridey, Mylchreest, Mylvoirrey, Mylvartin, Mylcharaine. Mollyndroat is probably Myl yn Druaight, Druid's servant. The spinner in this type of story is usually a dwarf or a fairy, but my informant used the words foawr and giant, and was positive that she told the tale as she had heard it. In connection with the belief that to know a man's name gives one power over him, it is interesting to note that to this day charmers in the Isle of Man insist, before using their charms, on knowing the full name of their patient; and the name must be given as at their baptism, otherwise the charm will not work. SOPHIA MORRISON, WELL, there was a woman once, and she was scandalous lazy. She was that lazy she would do nothing but sit in the corner of the chiollagh (hearth, fire-place) warming herself, or going out on the houses for newses the day long. And one day her man gives her some wool to spin for him; he was terrible badly off for clothes to wear, for she was letting them get all ragged on him. He had told her to mend them until he was tired, but all he could get out of her was, "Traa dy liooar" (time enough). One day he comes to her, and says: "Thou lhiggey my hraa (dawdler, slothful one), here is some wool for thee to spin, and if it is not done a month from this day, I'll throw thee out on the side of the road. Thou and thy 'traa dy liooar' have left me nearly bare." Well, she was too lazy to spin, but she would be pretending to be working hard when the husband was in the house. She used to put the queeyl (wheel) out on the floor every night before the husband came in from work, to be letting on to him that she had been spinning. The husband was asking her was the thread getting near spun, for he said that he was seeing the queeyl so often on the floor that he wanted to know if she had enough to take to the weaver. When it came to the last week but one, she had only one ball spun, and that one was knotted and as coarse When her husband says to her: as gorse. "I'm seeing the queeyl middling often on the floor when I come home at night; maybe there's enough thread spun at thee now for me to take to the weaver next week?" "I don't know, at all," says the wife, "maybe there is; let us count the balls." Then the play began! Up she went on the lout (loft), and flung the ball through the hole, down to him. "Keep count thyself, and fling the balls back again to me," says she to the man. And as fast as he flung the ball up to her, so fast she flung it down to him again. When he had counted the ball, maybe two score times, she says to him: "That's all that's in." "Aw, 'deed, you've spun well, woman, for all," says he; |