Not twenty miles from Morwenstow, a few years ago, occurred the following circumstances, which I know are true, and which I give here as an illustration of the superstition which prevails in Devon and Cornwall. A boy of the parish of Bratton Clovelly, proving intelligent in the national school, was sent by the rector to Exeter to the training college, in time passed his examination and obtained his certificate. He then returned for a holiday to his native village and volunteered to deliver in the schoolroom a lecture on “Popular Superstitions.” The lecture was announced, the rector took the chair, the room was crowded, and a very fair discourse was delivered against the prevailing belief in witchcraft. The lecturer was heard patiently to the close, and then up rose one of the principal farmers in the place, Brown by name. “Mr. Lecturer,” said he, “and all good people here assembled: You’ve had your say against witchcraft, and you says that there ain’t nothing of the sort. Now, I’ll tell’y a thing or two—facts; and a pinch of facts is worth a bushel of reasons. There was, t’other day, my cow Primrose, the Guernsey, and as gude a cow for milk as ever was. Well, on that day, when my missus put the milk on the fire to scald ’un, it wouldn’t hot. She put on a plenty of wood, and turves, and brimmel-bushes, but ’twouldn’t hot noways. And sez she to me, as I comes in, ‘I’ll tell’y what tez, Richard, Primrose has been overlooked by old Betty Spry. Now, you go off as fast as you can to the White Witch up to Exeter.’ Well, I did so; and when I came to the White Witch, as lives nigh All Hallows on the Walls, I was shown into a room; and there was a farmer stamping about, in just such a predicament as me. Sez I, ‘Are you come to see the White Witch?’—‘Ah, that I be!’ sez he; ‘my old cow has fallen ill, and won’t give no milk.’—‘Why,’ sez I, ‘my cow’s milk won’t hot, and the missus has put a lot of fire underneath.’—‘Do you suspect anybody?’ sez he.—‘I do,’ sez I; ‘there’s old Betty Spry has an evil eye, and her’s the one as has done it.’ Just then the door opens, and the maiden looks in, and sez to me, ‘Mr. Brown, the White Witch will speak with you.’ And then I am shown into the next room. Well, directly I come in, sez he to me, ‘I know what you’ve come for before you speak a word: your cow’s milk won’t scald. I’ll tell’y why: she’s been overlooked by an old woman named Betty Spry.’ He said so to me, as sure as eggs is eggs, and I never had told him not one word. Then sez he to me, ‘You go home, and get sticks out four different parishes, and set them under the milk, and her’ll boil.’ Well, I paid ’un a crown, and then I came here; and I fetched sticks from Lew Trenchard, and from Stowford, and from German’s Week, and from Broadwood Widger; and no sooner were they lighted under the pan than the milk boiled.”