(_c_) Halliwell gives, in his _Nursery Rhymes_, pp. 324-26, some curious verses, recorded for the first time by Dr. Kenrick in his Review of Dr. Johnson’s Shakespeare, 1765, on “rules for seemly behaviour,” in which the forfeits imposed by barbers as penalties for handling razors, &c, are set forth. Although “barbers’ forfeits” are not of the same nature as the nursery forfeits, it is possible that this general custom among so important a class of the community in early times as barbers may have suggested the game. Both Forby in his _Vocabulary of East Anglia_ and Moor in his _Suffolk Words_ bear testimony to the general prevalence of barbers’ forfeits, and it must be borne in mind that barbers were also surgeons in early days. A curious custom is also recorded in another East Anglian word-list, which may throw light upon the origin of the game from popular custom. “A forfeit is incurred by using the word ‘water’ in a brew-house, where you must say ‘liquor;’ or by using the word ‘grease’ in a chandlery, where it is ‘stuff’ or ‘metal.’ The forfeit is to propitiate the offended _genius loci_” (Spurden’s _East Anglian Vocabulary_). The element of divination in the custom is perhaps indicated by a curious note from Waldron, in his _Description of the Isle of Man_ (_Works_, p. 55), “There is not a barn unoccupied the whole twelve days, every parish hiring fiddlers at the public charge. On Twelfth Day the fiddler lays his head on some of the wenches’ laps, and a third person asks who such a maid or such a maid shall marry, naming the girls then present one after another; to which he answers according to his own whim, or agreeable to the intimacies he has taken notice of during this time of merriment. But whatever he says is as absolutely depended on as an oracle; and if he happen to couple two people who have an aversion to each other, tears and vexation succeed the mirth. This they call cutting off the fiddler’s head; for after this he is dead for the whole year.” Redeeming the forfeits is called “Crying the Weds,” in Burne’s _Shropshire Folk-lore_, p. 526. See “Wadds.” Fox Fox, a fox, a brummalary How many miles to Lummaflary? Lummabary? Eight and eight and a hundred and eight. How shall I get home to-night? Spin your legs and run fast. Halliwell gives this rhyme as No. ccclvii. of his _Nursery Rhymes_, but without any description of the game beyond the words, “A game of the fox.” It is probably the same game as “Fox and Goose.” Fox and Goose (1) In Dorsetshire one of the party, called the Fox, takes one end of the room or corner of a field (for the game was equally played indoors or out); all the rest of the children arrange themselves in a line or string, according to size, one behind the other, the smallest last, behind the tallest one, called Mother Goose, with their arms securely round the waist of the one in front of them, or sometimes by grasping the dress.