For this—quite, I think, a thing of the past—the children (a boy and girl alternately) formed a ring. One stood in the middle holding a white handkerchief by two of its corners: if a boy he would single out one of the girls, dance backwards and forwards opposite to her, and sing—

If the answer were “No!” spoken with averted head over the left shoulder, the rhyme ran—

Occasionally three or four in turn refused. When the request was granted the words were changed to—

The handkerchief was then carefully spread on the floor; the couple knelt on it and kissed: the child formerly in the middle joined the ring, and the other took his place, or if he preferred it, remained in the centre; in that case the children clasped hands and sang together—

The last to enter the ring had always the privilege of selecting the next partner.

In all these childish games, to prevent disputes, and decide who shall be middleman, hide first, etc., one or other of the following formulÆ is always recited by the eldest of the party, who as he repeats the words points with his forefinger at each player in succession until he comes to the end of the rhyme. The person then indicated goes out:—

To this latter there are several nonsensical modern editions.

A game with a jingle somewhat like the first is played by children at Newlyn West, near Penzance, called—

One child is blindfolded, the others hide something, and shout—

A search is then made for the hidden object: when found the finder in his turn is blindfolded.

After this digression I will give all the other forgotten games before describing those still played.

Known elsewhere as “Now we dance looby, looby, looby.” To play it the children formed a ring and danced around, singing—

They then stopped suddenly and said, “Right arms in!” (all were extended towards the centre of the circle); “Right arms out!” (all wheeled round with arms outstretched in the contrary direction); “Shake yourselves a little and little and turn yourselves about.” The circle was reformed, “Friskee,” etc., was repeated, and the game went on until all the different parts of the body had been named.

All the children in this game, except one who left the room, called themselves by the name of some bird, beast or fish. The child outside was brought in, and one chosen as schoolmaster said—

giving the assumed name of one of the players. If the fool fixed on the right person, he stayed in and the other went out, which of course involved re-naming; but if he made a mistake they all cried out—

He retired, pretended to knock his head against the door, and returned, when he was again asked in the same words to name some other player.

Some of the games were much rougher, such as “Pig in the middle and can’t get out,” and “Solomon had a great dog.”

For the first, one of the children stood in the centre, whilst the others danced around him in a circle, saying, “Pig in the middle and can’t get out.” He replied, “I’ve lost my key but I will get out,” and threw the whole weight of his body suddenly on the clasped hands of a couple to try and unlock them. When he had succeeded he changed the words to, “I’ve broken your locks, and I have got out.”

One of the pair whose hands he had opened took his place, and he joined the ring.

For the second, the players knelt in a line; the one at the head, in a very solemn tone, chanted, “Solomon had a great dog;” the others answered in the same way, “Just so” (this was always the refrain). Then the first speaker made two or three more ridiculous speeches, ending with, “And at last this great dog died, and fell down,” giving at the same time a violent lurch against his next neighbour, who, not expecting it, fell against his, and so on to the end of the line.

A paper-knife, or thin slip of wood, was placed by one player on his open palm. Another took it up quickly, and tried to “scat” his opponent’s hand before he could draw it away. Sometimes a feint of taking the paper-knife was made three or four times before it was really done. When the “scat” was given, the “scatter” in his turn rested the knife on his palm.

A person, who did not know the trick, was blindfolded, another stood in the corner of the room with his mouth open. The forefinger of the blindfolded player was carefully guided around the walls of the room to find the hole, until at last it was put into the open mouth, when it was sharply bitten.

The players sat in a circle. One acquainted with the trick took a poker in his right hand, made some eccentric movements with it, passed it to his left, and gave it to his next neighbour on that side, saying, “Malaga, Malaga raisins, very good raisins I vow,” and told him to do the same. Should he fail to pass it from right to left, when he in his turn gave it to his neighbour, without being told where the mistake lay he was made to pay a forfeit.

This required a confederate, who left the room. The other in the secret asked a person inside to whisper to him whom she (or he) loved, then called in his companion, and the following dialogue was carried on:—

An indefinite number of names were mentioned before the right one. When that came, to the surprise of the whisperer, the answer was—

The secret was very simple, the name of a widow or widower was always given before that whispered.

The two next are played everywhere, but the words I believe are peculiar to Cornwall.

This is much too common to require a description. I will therefore only give the doggerel, which is recited by the holder of the handkerchief as he walks around the ring:—

Throws the handkerchief, and chases the girl.

To this game, known elsewhere as “Thread the Needle,” the following lines are chanted:—

Four children hold a handkerchief by the four corners, one moves a finger over it saying, as fast as possible—

Any player making a mistake pays a forfeit.

A very pretty version of this old English game is often played at juvenile parties in Cornwall.

One child is chosen to remain in the room, whilst the others go outside and consult together as to whom shall hold the ball (some small thing). They then troop in, with their hands either hidden under the skirts of their dresses, or clasped in such a way that Lady Queen Anne, by looking at them, cannot tell which has it; all repeating—

Should she have guessed correctly, all the party curtsey, and say—

And the child who had the ball takes the queen’s seat, whilst she retires with the others; but should she have made a mistake, the same party go out again, saying as they curtsey—

Mr. Halliwell Phillips, in his book before quoted, has shorter versions of this, with different rhymes.

Another game which has descended from generation to generation is—

The children chose from their party an old witch (who is supposed to hide herself) and a mother. The other players are the daughters, and are called by the names of the week. The mother says that she is going to market, and will bring home for each the thing that she most wishes for. Upon this they all name something. Then, after telling them upon no account to allow anyone to come into the house, she gives her children in charge of her eldest daughter Sunday, and goes away. In a moment, the witch makes her appearance, and asks to borrow some trifle.

Sunday at first refuses, but, after a short parley, goes into the next room to fetch the required article. In her absence the witch steals the youngest of the children (Saturday), and runs off with her. Sunday, on her return, seeing that the witch has left, thinks there must be something wrong, and counts the children, saying, “Monday, Tuesday,” etc., until she comes to Saturday, who is missing. She then pretends to cry, wrings her hands, and sobs out—“Mother will beat me when she comes home.”

On the mother’s return, she, too, counts the children, and, finding Saturday gone, asks Sunday where she is. Sunday answers, “Oh, mother! an old witch called, and asked to borrow ——, and, whilst I was fetching it, she ran off with Saturday.” The mother scolds and beats her, tells her to be more careful in the future, and again sets off for the market. This is repeated until all the children but Sunday have been stolen. Then the mother and Sunday, hand in hand, go off to search for them. They meet the old witch, who has them all crouching down in a line behind her.

Mother. Have you seen my children?

O. W. Yes! I think, by Eastgate.

The mother and Sunday retire, as if to go there, but, not finding them, again return to the witch, who this time sends them to Westgate, then to Southgate and Northgate. At last one of the children pops her head up over the witch’s shoulder, and cries out, “Here we are, mother.” Then follows this dialogue:—

M. I see my children, may I go in?

O. W. No! your boots are too dirty.

M. I will take them off.

O. W. Your stockings are too dirty.

M. I will take them off.

O. W. Your feet are too dirty.

M. I will cut them off.

O. W. Then the blood will stream over the floor.

The mother at this loses patience, and pushes her way in, the witch trying in vain to keep her out. She, with all her children, then chase the witch until they catch her; when they pretend to bind her hand and foot, put her on a pile, and burn her, the children fanning the imaginary flames with their pinafores. Sometimes the dialogue after “Here we are, mother,” is omitted, and the witch is at once chased.

Mr. Halliwell Phillips calls this the “Game of the Gipsy,” and gives some rhymes to which it is played, but I have never heard them in this county.

The next, a game quite unknown to me, I took down from the lips of a little girl in West Cornwall, in 1882, who told me it was a great favourite with her and her playmates.

One of the party is chosen for ghost (if dressed in white so much the better); she hides in a corner; the other children are a mother and daughters. The eldest daughter says:

“Mother, mother, please give me a piece of bread and butter.”

M. Let me (or “leave me”) look at your hands, child. Why, they are very dirty.

E. D. I will go to the well and wash them.

She goes to the corner, the ghost peeps up, and she rushes back, crying out—

“Mother! mother! I have seen a ghost.”

M. Nonsense, child! it was only your father’s nightshirt I have washed and hung out to dry. Go again.

The child goes, and the same thing happens. She returns, saying—

“Yes, mother! I have seen a ghost.”

M. Nonsense, child! we will take a candle, and all go together to search for it. The mother picks up a twig for a candle, and they set off. When they come near to the ghost, she appears from her hiding-place, mother and children rush away in different directions; the ghost chases them until she has caught one, who in her turn becomes ghost.

I thought this game was a thing of the past, but I came on some children playing it in the streets of Penzance, in 1883. It may be played by any number, and, as in the two former games, one is chosen for mother. This is the dialogue:

C. Mother, mother, may I (or we) go out to play?

M. No, child! no, child! not for the day.

C. Why, mother? why, mother? I won’t stay long.

M. Make three pretty courtesies, and away! begone!

C. One for mammy, one for daddy, one for Uncle John.

The child, as she mentions the names, spreads out the skirts of her dress and courtesies, after which she retires to a little distance, and then returns.

M. Where, child! where, child! have you been all the day?

C. Up to granny’s.

M. What have you been doing there?

The answer to this is often “Washing dolls’ clothes,” but anything may be mentioned.

M. What did she give you?

The reply is again left to the child’s fancy.

M. Where’s my share?

C. The cat ate it. What’s in that box, mother?

M. Twopence, my child.

C. What for, mother?

M. To buy a stick to beat you, and a rope to hang you, my child.

The child at this tries to snatch at the box, the mother chases her until she has caught her (when there are several children, until she has caught one), she then pretends to beat her, and puts her hands around her neck as if she were going to hang her.

The children form a ring around one of the party, who sits in the middle, and says:

Then those in the circle dance round her, singing:

Or,

This is repeated three times with the refrain, “On a cold,” etc. after which the dancing and singing cease, and the child is asked, “Sugar, sweet, or vinegar, sour?” Her answer is always taken in a contrary sense, and sung, as before, three times, whilst the children circle round. The one in the middle then rises to her feet. The boy (or girl) named advances and kisses her, they change places, and the game begins again.

This is a very favourite open-air game. To play it there must be an uneven number. He (or she) stands in the middle, whilst the others, arm in arm, circle around him singing:—

At the words “joggle along,” they all drop the arm of the person they are leading, and try to catch the arm of the player in front of them, whilst the middle man tries at the same time to get a partner. Should he succeed, the player left without one takes his place. (Repeat.)

I am indebted to the Rev. S. Rundle, vicar of Godolphin, for another set of words to this game, which he calls—

And, under this title, a lady, two years since, saw some children playing it at St. Ives, in Cornwall.

In this county “Tom Tiddler’s Ground” is known as “Mollish’s Land,” “Cat and Mouse” as “The Duffan Ring,” and “Blind Man’s Buff” as “Blind Buck-a-Davy.” To this last the following words are repeated, which I have never seen in print. One of the players takes the blind person by the shoulders, and says:

“How many horses has your father got in his stables?”

A. Three.

“What colour are they?”

A. Red, white, and grey.

(Whirling him round.) “Then turn about, and twist about, and catch whom you may.”

To make barley bread (in other districts, “Cockley bread”) this rhyme is used in West Cornwall:—

Of this, which is a very common game at school-treats in some parts of West Cornwall, I have only lately, through the kindness of the Rev. S. Rundle, succeeded in getting a description. He saw some children, in 1884, playing it in his parish (Godolphin, Helston). A ring is formed, into the middle of which goes a child holding a stick, the others with joined hands run round in a circle, singing—

When they have finished singing they cease running, whilst the one in the centre pointing with his stick asks them in turn to spell Bingo. If they all spell it correctly they again move round singing; but, should either of them make a mistake, he or she has to take the place of the middle man.

is rather dangerous, and now but rarely played. Two children stand back to back with their arms locked. One stoops as low as he can, supporting the other on his back, and says, “Weigh the butter;” he rises, and the second stoops in his turn with “Weigh the cheese.” The first repeats with “Weigh the old woman;” and it ends by the second, with “Down to her knees.”

A game of a very different character, which pleases young children. The child stands before a hassock, and as if he were going up-stairs puts on it first his right and then his left foot, gradually quickening his steps, keeping time to the words:—

This ends the games in which children of both sexes join. I must next give those exclusively for boys. I will begin by a very old one:

is a game usually played with marbles; one boy puts his hand into his trousers pocket and takes out as many marbles as he feels inclined; he closes his fingers over them, and holds out his hand with the palm down to the opposite player, saying, “Ship sail, sail fast. How many men on board?” A guess is made by his opponent; if less, he has to give as many marbles as will make up the true number; if more, as many as he said over. But should the guess be correct he takes them, and then in his turn says “Ship sail,” etc.

is another game of chance, and is generally played by three boys in the following way. One stands with his back to a wall, the second stoops down with his head against the stomach of the first boy, “forming a back,” the third jumps on it, and holds up his hand with the fingers distended, saying—

Should the stooper guess correctly, they all change places and the jumper forms the back. Another and not such a rough way of playing this game is for the guesser to stand with his face towards a wall, keeping his eyes shut.

Leap-frog is known in Cornwall as “Leap the long-mare,” and there is a curious variation of it called—

A cap or small article is placed on the back of the stooping boy by each in turn as he jumps over him. The first as he jumps says “Accroshay,” the second “Ashotay,” the third “Assheflay,” and the last “Lament, lament, Leleeman’s (or Leleena’s) war.” The boy who in jumping knocks off either of the things has to take the place of the stooper.

For this the boys divide into sides; one “stops at home,” the other goes off to a certain distance agreed on beforehand and shouts “Buckey-how.” The boys “at home” then give chase, and, when they succeed in catching an adversary, they bring him home and there he stays until all on his side are caught, when they in turn become the chasers.

A remembrance of the old smuggling days. The boys divide into two parties; the “trucklers” try to reach some given point before the cutter catches them.

is a favourite recreation with the young fishermen in West Cornwall; “Pits” and “Towns” are the common games. Boys who hit their nails are looked on with great contempt, and are said “to fire Kibby.” When two are partners and one in playing accidentally hits the other’s marble, he cries out “no custance,” meaning that he has a right to put back the marble struck; should he fail to do so, it would be considered out of the game. To steal marbles is “to strakey.”

To make ducks and drakes with a stone on the water is in Cornwall called “Tic-Tac-Mollard.”

This game is, I believe, known in other counties as “Cob-nut,” but in Cornwall the boys give the name of “Victor-nut” to the fruit of the common hazel, and play it to the words:

The nut that cracks another is called a “cock battler.”

Children under the title of “Cock battler” often in country walks play a variation of Cock-haw with the “Hoary plantain,” which they hold by the tough stem about two inches from the head; each in turn tries to knock off the head of his opponent’s flower.

A rural game, played in the spring. An egg taken from a bird’s nest is placed on the ground, at some distance off—the number of paces having been previously fixed. Blindfolded, one after the other, the players attempt with a stick to hit and break it.

When the writer was a boy, the following were the words used in the boys’ game of fox-hunting. When the hounds (the boys) were “at fault” the leader cried—

(East Cornwall. F. W. P. Jago, M.B., Plymouth.)

Boys here, as probably elsewhere, are very fond of hitting each other and then running away, shouting—

The old Cornish game of “Hurling” I have already described under the head of “Feasten Customs.” Cricket, football, and lawn tennis are of course played in Cornwall.

an old drinking game, now I expect known to but few. Each person in succession has to drink a glass of beer or spirits, on the top of which a piece of lighted candle has been put, whilst the others sing—

Specimens of Cornish Provincial Dialect.—Uncle Jan Trenoodle.

Of the old dance “Letterpooch,” the name only is remembered.