[96] EDITOR’S NOTES.--(In St. Martin’s there still lingers a version of the English Tom Thumb, the “Thaumlin” or “Little Thumb” of the Northerners, who was a dwarf of Scandinavian descent. I was told the following story in 1896, but the old woman who told me owned that she had forgotten many of the details.) “LE GRAND BIMERLUE.” Once upon a time a woman had a very tiny little son, who was always called P’tit Jean. He was so small that she was continually losing him. One day he strayed into a field, and was terrified at seeing a large bull rushing towards him, having broken loose from his leash. Hoping for shelter, he ran and hid under a cabbage leaf, but in vain, for the bull ate up the cabbage leaf, and swallowed “P’tit Jean” as well. Soon his mother was heard calling “_P’tit Jean! P’tit Jean! je tràche mon P’tit Jean_.” (“P’tit Jean! P’tit Jean! I am looking for my P’tit Jean,”) so, as well as he could, he answered “_Je suis dans le ventre du Grand Bimerlue_.” (“I am in the stomach of the ‘Grand Bimerlue.’”) Astonished and frightened at hearing these unusual sounds coming from the bull, the woman rushed in and implored her husband to kill “Le Grand Bimerlue,” as she was sure he must be bewitched. This was accordingly done, and they cut up the carcase for eating, but the entrails were thrown into the nearest ditch. An old woman was passing by and saw them lying there, so picked them up and put them in her basket, saying-- “_Y en a des biaux boudins pour mon diner._” (“Here are some fine black puddings for my dinner.”) All the time the boy was calling-- _“Trot, trot le vier,_ _Trot, trot la vieille,_ _Je suis dans l’ventre_ _Du Grand Bimerlue.”_ “(Trot, trot old man, Trot, trot old woman, I am in the stomach Of the Grand Bimerlue).” Hearing these sounds issuing from her basket she hurried home and cut open the stomach of the bull, from whence emerged “P’tit Jean” none the worse for his adventure. He ran home to his mother, who had begun to think that she would never see him again.--_From Mrs. Charles Marquand._ [97] From Mrs. Savidan. [98] From Miss E. Chepmell, of St. Sampson’s. [99] From Mrs. Murton. THE INVASION OF GUERNSEY BY THE FAIRIES. “Welcome lady! to the cell, Where the blameless Pixies dwell, But thou sweet nymph! proclaimed our faery queen With what obeisance meet Thy presence shall we greet.” --_Coleridge._ “In olde dayes of the King Artour Of which that Bretons speken gret honour, All was this lond fulfilled of faerie; The Elf-quene, with hire joly compagnie, Danced ful oft in many a grene mede, This was the old opinion as I rede; I speke of many hundred yeres ago; But now can no man see non elves mo.” --_Chaucer’s “Canterbury Tales.”_