w recovering.'

Another story shows the remarkable powers of a wise woman. Mr Page
explains that he cannot give the real name of the couple, but calls them
Giles. Giles deserted his wife. 'For a while Mrs Giles bore his absence
with a fortitude born, perhaps, of no very great love for her partner.
Then she suddenly took it into her head to have him home. She did not
telegraph, she did not even write; but one day the errant husband was
seen by the astonished villagers hurrying towards his deserted home.
_And his footsteps were marked with blood!_ The witch-wife had compelled
his return in such haste that not only the soles of his boots, but those
of his _feet_, were worn out.'

Mr Page mentions that 'the old mediaeval custom of touching a corpse
still prevails. At an inquest lately held at or near South Molton, each
of the coroner's jury, as he filed past the body, laid his fingers on
the forehead. This act, it was believed, would free him from dreams of
the deceased.

Omens and portents such as mysterious knockings, a particular sound of
church-bells, or a bird flying into a room, are very grave warnings, and
a story of this character comes from near Taunton. 'A farmer riding home
from Taunton Market noticed a white rook among the sable flock settling
over a field. When he reached home there were symptoms of uneasiness
among his cattle, and that night the dogs barked so vociferously that
he had to get up and quiet them. In the morning he was dead.'

Writing of other traditions, 'one of the most beautiful of Easter
customs still survives. Young men have not yet ceased on the
Resurrection morning to climb the nearest hill-top to see the sun flash
over the dark ridge of Quantock, or the more distant line of Mendip.' To
see the newly-arisen sun on Easter morning was an augury of good luck.
'Early in the century Dunkery, probably because it is the highest land
in Somerset, was favoured above all surrounding hills, and its sides,'
says Miss King, 'were covered with young men, who seemed to come from
every quarter of the compass, and to be pressing up towards the Beacon.'

Exmoor stag-hunting is far-famed, for it is the only corner of England
where wild red deer are still to be found. The fashion of coming here to
hunt from a distant part of the country is comparatively modern, but
Hugh Pollard, Ranger of the Forest, kept a pack of stag-hounds at
Simonsbath more than three hundred years ago, and the Rangers who
succeeded