From the ideas of old folks respecting this distemper, one may
conjecture that its Cornish name meant some kind of spirit which had,
for the time, taken a material form. Forty years or more ago, an old
farmer of Sancreed, who had been a noted hurler when in his prime, told
me that in his younger days, when hurling matches came off between
Sancras and some neighbouring parish almost every Sunday afternoon, he
seldom missed a game, and if the silver ball came into his hands it
seldom left them until he brought it to Sancras churchtown. When hard
pressed, as they always were on arriving near the “gold” (goal) the cry
of “Gare teag” (fair play) “for Sancras boys” would be heard for a mile
or more from churchtown, and put them in heart for their last run;
while St. Just men would be calling “One and ale (all) for Santusters,”
as they came down round the Bickan to cut off their opponents, if they
could, as their last hope. But that they could seldom do. Then, after
resting awhile, with his comrades, he steered his course for Sellan,
where he lived with an uncle, or grandfather, one old Uter Bossence. “I
can’t say how long we stayed in the comfortable old public house, I’m
sure,” said the hurler, “for we were all so happy together and loath to
part; those from a distance just stepped in, had a drink, and away; at
such times, too, the usually quiet old inn would wake up an be all
alive for a bit. Then the ‘tenders’ (waiters) on coming into the rooms
with pewter flagons of foaming ale would sing out, ‘The bird in hand,
my dears; we can’t stay to use the chalk!’ A fluttering bird with his
legs grasped by a hand, was painted on the old signboard, and under
this picture the couplet:—
‘A bird in hand is better fare
Than two that in the bushes are.’”
The old man went on to say how every now and then, he got piskey-led on
his way home to Sellan. As sure as he missed the church-road he would
be led miles about, round and round the same field, ere he could find
it again. If he left the field he seldom knew where he was again before
the break o’ day, and then was most likely to find himself near Brane
Rings (Caer Brane) instead of on the other side of churchtown. Near the
Rings piskey would leave him, laughing like nothing else but a piskey!
When once inside the Castle enclosure, he lay down and slept soundly
till sunrise or after. For everybody knew that anywhere within the
Rings on Brane hill, the same as at Bartinney, nothing evil that
wanders the earth by night could harm them. They meant spirits of the
Bucka-boo (dhu) tribe. Small people (fairies) are friendly to man and
beast, unless interfered with, and Brane Rings was one of their haunts.
If he wanted to get home early and tried to break through the fog,
which always surrounds a piskey, he would oftener find himself in broad
daylight, down by Chappel Uny than over in Sellan. Sometimes, however,
when by bad luck the ball was carried off to another parish, he was
ready, on returning homeward, to drop down and sleep in a pool of
water. “At such times,” said he, “I tumbled into the first house I came
by, no matter where ’twas, for in these times, a Bossence was home
anywhere in Sancras or Santust either.” Just as soon as he lay
down—whether in bed, among the hay, or elsewhere,—the Hilla would be on
him and lay with such a dead weight that he could neither move hand nor
foot, nor call for help if it were to save his life, which seemed to be
almost squeezed out of him sometimes. When the Hilla left he came to
himself and found all about him wet with sweat. “And I felt as sore,”
said the old hurler in conclusion, “as if I’d ben thrashed with a
thrashal on a barn-boards; then, when I cud, I stretched myself in the
sunshine on the bare ground, for there’s nothing like the sun and earth
for healing the bruises in one’s flesh and getting the pain out of
one’s bones; and I’m sure as I’m speakan to thee, my son, that the
Hilla was nothan else but the same cussed piskey, in another form; and
older and wiser people say the same thing.”
Only a few weeks since an elderly native of St. Just told me he had
often heard his father say that people who were subject to the Hilla,
or feared it, were in the habit of taking to bed with them a couple of
forks, one of which was placed on either side within reach of the hand.
If the troubled person could stretch his or her arms, or only one arm,
and touch a fork with one finger even, that instant the Hilla would
decamp; for this sprite, like all other evil ones, feared cold iron so
much that the Hilla-ridden never had the chance to stab the thing.
The elder St. Just man did not know for certain about the Hilla’s form,
as it was never seen; yet, from the feeling on the breast, or whatever
it was, people said it was a great hairy thing which lay on them with a
dead weight that almost stopped their breathing.
The “Stag” is a lighter creature of the same class. People whose rest
has only been slightly troubled say they only had the “Stag” and not
the “Hilla,” by good luck.