"_Snail, Snail, come out of your Hole._"--In Surrey, and most probably in other counties where {133} shell-snails abound, children amuse themselves by charming them with a chant to put forth their horns, of which I have only heard the following couplet, which is repeated until it has the desired effect, to the great amusement of the charmer. "Snail, snail, come out of your hole, Or else I'll beat you as black as a coal." It is pleasant to find that this charm is not peculiar to English children, but prevails in places as remote from each other as Naples and Silesia. The Silesian rhyme is: "Schnecke, schnecke, schnuerre! Zeig mir dein viere, Wenn mir dein viere nicht zeigst, Schmeisz ich dich in den Graben, Fressen dich die Raben;" which may be thus paraphrased: "Snail, snail, slug-slow, To me thy four horns show; If thou dost not show me thy four, I will throw thee out of the door, For the crow in the gutter, To eat for bread and butter." In that amusing Folk's-book of Neapolitan childish tales, the _Pentamerone_ of the noble Count-Palatine Cavalier Giovan-Battista Basile, in the seventeenth tale, entitled "La Palomma," we have a similar rhyme: "Jesce, jesce, corna; Ca mammata te scorna, Te scorna 'ncoppa lastrico, Che fa lo figlio mascolo." of which the sense may probably be: "Peer out! Peer out! Put forth your horns! At you your mother mocks and scorns; Another son is on the stocks, And you she scorns, at you she mocks." S. W. SINGER. _The Evil Eye._--This superstition is still prevalent in this neighbourhood (Launceston). I have very recently been informed of the case of a young woman, in the village of Lifton, who is lying hopelessly ill of consumption, which her neighbours attribute to her having been "_overlooked_" (this is the local phrase by which they designate the baleful spell of the _evil eye_). An old woman in this town is supposed to have the power of "ill-wishing" or bewitching her neighbours and their cattle, and is looked on with much awe in consequence. H. G. T. "_Millery! Millery! Dousty-poll!_" &c.--I am told by a neighbour of a cruel custom among the children in Somersetshire, who, when they have caught a certain kind of large white moth, which they call a _miller_, chant over it this uncouth ditty:-- "Millery! Millery! _Dousty_-poll! How many sacks hast thou stole?" And then, with boyish recklessness, put the poor creature to death for the imagined misdeeds of his human namesake. H. G. T. _"Nettle in, Dock out."_--Sometime since, turning over the leaves of Clarke's _Chaucer_, I stumbled on the following passage in "Troilus and Cressida," vol. ii. p. 104.:--