There are two ghosts to be sought for by those interested in departed spirits. One, the White Lady, is reported to inhabit the Dike. The other, a headless woman, is to be met with on dark nights at Tramner hill, and in the valley below the Thornwick hotel. Not long ago there was a Flamborough boy employed in the gardens at Marton who resolutely refused to cross the Dike after sun-down, for fear of meeting the White Lady! A few years since a poor girl, a native of Sewerby, was engaged to Flamborough man. They went together to the Dike one fine night to see if they could meet with the White Lady. Whether or no they were successful in their search history does not relate; but the unfortunate girl caught a severe chill, which developed into a rapid consumption, resulting in her death within a month. She was buried in Flamborough Churchyard (St. Oswald's), her coffin being carried to the grave, after the custom of the place, by women, a pair of white paper gloves being carried by another maiden at the head of the procession. These were afterwards hung up in the church to commemorate the event. Women are carried to church by their own sex, and men by theirs. The coffins of fishermen and sailors drowned at sea are carried, shoulder high, by their fellow seamen. Those of landsfolk are carried, like those of the women, under-hand, and close to the level of the ground. Near Flamborough is a circular pit where a girl named Jenny Gallows is said to have committed suicide. It is a common belief along the coast that anyone running nine times round the hole can hear the fairies. Another legend connected with the spot is that the spirit of Jenny, dressed in white, rises when the eighth circuit is completed, and cries out : "Ah'll tee on me bonnet An' put on me shoe, An' if thoo's not off Ah'll suan catch thoo!" The belief, common in the north, that a person cannot die in a bed made of the feathers of pigeons or wild birds still exists, to some extent, in Flamborough. It is customary in such cases to remove anyone in extremis to a more, or less, comfortable place in order that they may "die easy." Earrings are generally worn by Flamborough fishermen, whether by way of ornament or as a charm against 'some unseen danger, I am unable to say, but, at least, in wearing them, the Flamborians of to-day are but following the fashion of their great hero, the far-famed "free trader," Robin Lyth, of immortal memory. ARTHUR H. ARMYTAGE. FLAMBOROUGH POEMS. A PLEA FOR THE SEA-BIRDS. STAY now thine hand! Proclaim not man's dominion Over God's works by strewing rocks and sand Oh, stay thine hand! Spend not thy days of leisure. In scattering death along the peaceful strand For bird's sake, spare! Leave it in happy motion To wheel its easy circles through the air, Or rest and rock upon the shining ocean. To glance and glide before him everywhere, For God's sake, spare! He notes each sea-bird falling, And in Creation's groans marks its sad share- Oh, stay thine hand! Cease from this useless slaughter For though kind Nature from the rocks and sand. Yet on thine hand, Raised against God's fair creature, Beware lest there be found a crimson brand Indelible by any force of Nature. RICHARD WILTON, M.A. (From "Wood Notes and Church Bells.") THE FLAMBOROUGH PILOTS. THE lights revolve, now white, now red, In vain the gun booms on the shore- To straining eye and listening ear, But suddenly a voice is heard, "The Flamborough Pilots," is his cry, The rocks with deadly echoes ring Oh, cruel sound! oh, piteous sight! Are murdered with the morning light. And lo! for lack of warning call Ships lost beneath that white sea-wall, RICHARD WILTON, M.A. (From "Wood Notes and Church Bells.") NORTH AND SOUTH OF FLAMBOROUGH HEAD. Nought sunders save a narrow promontory. My soul! as quick a step, as short a way, Divides this life, with its dark, troubled story, From the calm haven of eternal day, Its bliss angelic and unruffled glory! RICHARD WILTON, M.A. (From "Wood Notes and Church Bells.") |