In their contacts with mortals, the fairies, on the whole, appear to have been considered friendly; they were sometimes mischievous, but seldom malicious. A good example of their alleged love of pranks is to be found in the story of a jest they had at the expense of brandy smugglers some hundred and fifty years ago. The story came from my great-grandfather.

One frosty night news came that the smugglers’ cutter was lying off Magilligan. A man named Graham saddled his horse and rode down to the shore to await the arrival of the kegs of brandy. As soon as these were brought ashore in a small boat, Graham and a companion slung a keg on either side of their saddles and rode off. They kept up a brisk pace, for they had many kegs to bury between the potato rigs before morning.

As Graham and his companion trotted along, they were startled to hear horses’ hoffs in the distance behind them. They were considerably shaken, for the knew it was unlikely that any well-disposed person would be abroad at such an hour. The whipped up the horses, hoping to leave the unknown riders far behind but no matter how fast they travelled, the horses behind travelled faster. Graham’s companion was obliged to drop out of the race, but Graham kept on, for the mare he was riding had no equal for speed in Co. Derry and he was sure she could outdistance anything on four legs. Yet the pursuers steadily gained on him, and at last, he was obliged to jettison the kegs of brandy. He tried to shake off the pursuit by crossing fields and riding through bogs where he knew the paths, and hoped his pursuers did not. It was in vain, soon the only horses were only a few yards behind, though he could not see them.

He dismounted and prepared to fight for never doubted that it was the Revenue Men who were after him. To his amazement, the horses galloped past with a clatter of hoofs and lound, bellowing laughter from the riders.

‘That was a fine race you gave us the night, Graham!’ they shouted. And Graham realized that it only been the fairies having their joke. Oddly enough, the supernatural aspect of the encounter appears not to have worried him. He was annoyed that he had lost the brandy, but relieved that it was no mortal hourse that had run his mare off her legs. (Foster, Ulster 72-73)

There are many stories of men who learned to play fairy-music. A man I knew in Co. Antrim, when I was a child, claimed that he had learned a tune from the fairies. It was a dance tune and he said that no one could sit still and listen to it; it compelled people to dance. (Foster, Ulster 72)

In earlier days belief in fairies may sometimes have been used to conceal evil deeds. My grandfather used to tell a story about the body of a boy which was found in a bog in Co. Derry about eighty years ago. The body was preserved from decay and no one seemed to know whether it had been in the bog for a long or short period. Old people in the district thought they recognised the mass of yellow curls, and remembered that a little servant-boy from Donegal had disappeared one winter long before. His master said that the fairies had taken him, but some of the neighbours suspected that the master, a difficult man, had killed him. (Foster, Ulster 68)

Editor’s Note: An interesting account where a ghost/boggart/dobbie emerges from legend in a frightening encounter on a night-time road

Between Bolton-le-Sands and Carnforth, on the road side, is situated a house having the reputation of being haunted, and has ever, within the memory of that oft quoted personage ‘the oldest inhabitant’, been known by the appellation of the ‘boggart house’. Various are the conjectures respecting the manner in which this lonely dwelling received the distinction; but on one point all agree, that at some time or other it has been the theatre where some ‘deed of darkness’ has been enacted. That ‘murder most foul’ has been committed within its precincts, and the perturbed spirit of the victim is permitted for a time to visit the ‘pale glimpses of the moon, making night hideous.’ Many a one, in passing this dreaded spot upon hearing the slightest sound, the faintest rustling of the trembling leaves, has felt a curious sensation run down his back and ooze out at his toes, and not a few who had great pretensions to fearlessness when coming into immediate proximinity with the ‘boggart house,’ have felt themselves compelled to ‘whistle to bear there courage up.’ Numerous are the forms in which this supernatural agent presents itself, sometimes as a headless soldier, a gigantic sheep, or monster goose. Often does his ghostship play fastastic [sic] tricks, such as only appertain to the denizens to another and unknown world, such as acting the part of an invisible glazier, taking out panes of glass and throwing them down on the floor without injury, &c. For a short time back his ghostship has been better behaved, confining himself within his own ‘ceremenents’, and never disturbing sublunary mortals with ‘things above the reaches of there [sic] souls.’ However, last week the ‘dobby’ again made its appearance much to the terrot of an inoffensive carter, who was proceeding on this way to Kendal market. This occurrence has been a rich theme during the past week for the gossip mongers at Bolton, and the neighbourhood, and has been the all-engrossing topic of conversation. The carter to which we have above alluded was on his way to Kendal market, with a load of wheat, shortly after the witching hour of night, ‘when church yards yawn,’ and had proceeded as far as the immediate vicinity of the ‘boggart house’, when his horse suddenly stopped and appeared much frightened. On looking to ascertain the cause, he perceived as he imagined a large sheep lying in the middle of the road, towards which he proceeded with the intention of applying his whip to force its removal. He struck, the blow fell upon vacancy, the supposed sheep aroused itself and as if with indignity at the insult, swelled out as the man affiamrs, into the size of a house, and then giving hima  look of inaffable contempt flew away in a flame of fire. The poor carter was petrified, the chattering of his teeth almost rivaled in noise the bone-playing of the celebrated ‘Juba,’ his knees shook, and his legs refused to perform their office. How long he remained in this condition he is unable to state, but the fright had such an effect upon his nerves as to make him seriously unwell and he has not since recovered [from] the shock, and his legs refused to perform their office. How long he remained in this condition he is unable to state, but the fright had such an effect upon his nerves as to make him seriously unwell and he has not since recovered the shock although we have no faith in these supernatural visitations. It must be admitted that the poor man, from the state he was in, had seen something which dreadfully alarmed him. Perhaps on the previous evening he had been partaking took freely of the ‘barley bree,’ and his heated imagination magnificed the apparition. ‘Ghost Story’, Lancaster Gazette (25 January 1851), 5

This comes from Evans-Wentz’ work in western Cornwall c. 1909.

A man named Bottrell, who lived near St. Teath, was pisky-led at West Down, and when he turned his pockets inside out he heard the piskies going away laughing. Often my grandmother used to say when I got home after dark, ‘You had better mind, or the piskies will carry you away.’ And I can remember hearing the old people say that the piskies are the spirits of dead-born children.’ From pixies the conversation drifted to the spirit-hounds ‘often heard at night near certain haunted downs in St. Teath parish’, and then, finally, to ordinary Cornish legends about the dead.

Editor’s Note: Here is an account from Evans-Wentz work with fairies in Cornwall c. 1909.

William Shepherd, a retired miner of Pendeen, near St. Just, where he has passed all his life, offers us from his own experiences under the earth the evidence which follows: Mine Piskies. ‘There are mine-piskies which are not the ‘knockers’. I’ve heard old men in the mines say that they have seen them, and they call them the ‘small people’. It appears that they don’t like company, for they are always seen singly. The ‘knockers’ are spirits, too, as one might say. They are said to bring bad luck, while the ‘small people’ may bring good luck.’

Editor’s Note: This comes from Evans-Wentz’ field work (c. 1909) in western Cornwall, more particularly at Sennen Cove.

‘Many say they have seen the small people here by the hundreds. In Ireland they call the small people the fairies. My mother believes there were such things, and so did the old folks in these parts. My grandmother used to put down a good furze fire for them on stormy nights, because, as she said, ‘They are a sort of people wandering about the world with no home or habitation, and ought to be given a little comfort.’ The most fear of them was that they might come at night and change a baby for one that was no good. My mother said that Joan Nicholas believed the fairies had changed her baby, because it was very small and cross-tempered. Up on the hill you’ll see a round ring with grass greener than anywhere else, and that is where the small people used to dance.’

This interesting passage comes from Evans-Wentz (177) field work in Cornwall. The motif of the four-leaved collar was common in the south-west.

In general appearance the fairies were much the same as pixies. They were small men and women, much smaller than dwarfs. The men were swarthy in complexion, and the women had a clear complexion of a peach-like bloom. None ever appeared to be more than five-and-twenty to thirty years old. I have heard my nurse say that she could see scores of them whenever she picked a four-leaf clover and put it in the wisp of straw which she carried on her head as a cushion for the bucket of milk. Her theory was that the richness of the milk was what attracted them. Pixies, like fairies, very much enjoyed milk, and people of miserly nature used to put salt around a cow to keep the pixies away; and then the pixies would lead such mean people astray the very first opportunity that came. According to some country-people, the pixies have been seen in the day-time, but usually they are only seen at night.’

A woman who lived near Breage Church had a fine girl baby, and she thought the piskies came and took it and put a withered child in its place. The withered child lived to be twenty years old, and was no larger when it died than when the piskies brought it. It was fretful and peevish and frightfully shrivelled. The parents believed that the piskies often used to come and look over a certain wall by the house to see the child. And I heard my grandmother say that the family once put the child out of doors at night to see if the piskies would take it back again. (Evans-Wentz, 1911, 171)