To many of our churches tradition associates some animal and it generally goes by the name of the Kirk-grim. These Kirk-grims are of course the ghostly apparitions of the beasts that were buried under the foundation-stones of the churches, and they are supposed to haunt the churchyards and church lanes. A spectre dog which went by the name of "Bargest" was said to haunt the churchyard at Northorpe, in Lincolnshire, up to the first half of the present century. The black dog that haunts Peel Castle, and the bloodhound of Launceston Castle, are the spectres of the animals buried under their walls. The apparitions of children in certain old mansions are the faded recollections of the sacrifices offered when these houses were first erected, not perhaps the present buildings, but the original halls or castles prior to the conquest, and into the foundations of which children were often built. The Cauld Lad of Hilton Castle in the valley of the Wear is well known. He is said to wail at night: "Wae's me, wae's me, The acorn's not yet Fallen from the tree That's to grow the wood, That's to make the cradle, That's to rock the bairn, That's to grow to a man, That's to lay me." Afzelius, in his collection of Swedish folk tales, says: "Heathen superstition did not fail to show itself in the construction of Christian churches. In laying the foundations the people retained something of their former religion, and sacrificed to their old deities, whom they could not forget, some animal, which they buried alive, either under the foundation, or within the wall. A tradition has also been preserved that under the altar of the first Christian churches a lamb was usually buried, which imparted security and duration to the edifice. This was an emblem of the true church lamb--the Saviour, who is the corner stone of His church. When anyone enters a church at a time when there is no service, he may chance to see a little lamb spring across the choir and vanish. This is the church-lamb. When it appears to a person in the churchyard, particularly to the grave-digger, it is said to forbode the death of a child that shall be next laid in the earth." The traditions of Copenhagen are, that when the ramparts were being raised the earth always sank, so that it was impossible to get it to stand firm. They therefore took a little innocent girl, placed her on a chair by a table, and gave her playthings and sweetmeats. While she thus sat enjoying herself, twelve masons built an arch over her, which when completed they covered over with earth, to the sound of music with drums and trumpets. By this process they are, it is said, rendered immovable.[2] [Footnote 2: "Thorpe's Northern Mythology," vol. II., p. 244.]