Melsh Dick
Two Letters
A Miracle
Tales of agrandmother
I. The Tree ofKnowledge
II.Janet's Cove
ThePotato andthe Pig
Coals of Fire
Melsh Dick is the last survivor of our woodland divinities.His pedigreereaches back to the satyrs and dryads of Greek mythology; he claimskinship with the fauns that haunted the groves of leafy Tibur, and helorded it in the green woods of merry England when
The woodweele sang andwold not cease,
Sitting upon the spraye,
Soe lowde he wakenedRobin Hood
In the greenwood where helay.
But he has long since fallen upon evil days, and it is only inthe mostsecluded regions of the Pennines, where vestiges of primeval foreststill remain and where modern civilisation has scarcely penetrated,thathe is to be met with to-day. Melsh is a dialect word for unripe, andthepopular belief is that Melsh Dick keeps guard over unripe nuts; while"Melsh Dick'll catch thee, lad" was formerly a threat used to frightenchildren when they went a-nutting in the hazel-shaws. But we may,perhaps, take a somewhat wider view of this woodland deity and lookuponhim as the tutelary genius of all the young life of theforest—thecallow broods of birds, the litters of foxes and squirrels, and thesapling oaks, hazels, and birches. There was a time when he was lookedupon as a genial fairy, who would bring Yule-logs to the farmers onChristmas Eve and direct the woodmen in their tasks of planting andfelling; latterly, however, he is said to have grown churlish andmalignant. The reckless felling of young trees for fencing andpit-propsis supposed to have roused his ill-will, and sinister stories have beentold of children who have gone into the woods for acorns or hazel-nutsand have never been seen again.
It was in the Bowland Forest district, which is watered by theRibbleand its tributary becks, that I heard the fullest account of MelshDick;and the following story was communicated to me by an old peasant whoseforefathers had for generations been woodmen in Bowland Forest. Theregion where he lived is rich in legend, and not far away is the oldmarket town of Gisburn, where Guy of that ilk fought with Robin Hood,and where, until the middle of the nineteenth century, a herd of thewild cattle of England roamed through the park.
"Fowks tell a mak o' tales about witches, barguests, an'sike-like," OwdDont began, "but I tak no count o' all their clash; I reckon nowt o'tales without they belang my awn family. But what I's gannin to tellyouis what