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Updated: May 3, 2025
"With that he taks a whistle out of his pocket; 'twere Just like a penny tin whistle, but 'twere made o' t' rind o' a wandy esh, an' Melsh Dick had shapped it hissen wi' his whittle. Then he put t' whistle to his mouth an' started to blow.
He thowt Doed were laughin' at him, an' what maddens fairies more nor owt else is to think that fowks is girnin' at 'em. Howiver, he said nowt, but set hissen down anent t' dub an' Doed did t' same. Then they gat agate o' talkin', an' Doed axed Melsh Dick what for he was covered wi' green moss.
He couldn't do nowt to Doed so lang as he were maister o' his senses, but if he was to get fair giddy an' drop off into a dwam, then, sure enif, Melsh Dick would have him i' his power and could turn him intul a squirrel as he'd turned other lads an' lasses afore. Wae's t' heart! but he were in a parlous state, were lile Doed, but he knew nowt about it for all that.
"'If thou'd to clim' trees same as I have, answered Melsh Dick, 'thou'd be covered wi' moss too, I'll uphod. "'An' what for doesta wear yon cap o' red fur ?? "'Why sudn't I wear a fur cap, I'd like to know. My mother maks 'em o' squirrel skins, an' they're fearful warm i' winter-time.
He put his hand to his heead, and it felt as though 'twere twinin' round an' round. Now that was just what Melsh Dick wanted, and why he'd set t' squirrels lowpin' in a ring.
"He'd no sooiner said t' words when all on a sudden Melsh Dick gav ower playin', t' squirrels gav ower lowpin', t' bats gav ower fleein' across t' dub, t' mooin gat behind a gert thunner-cloud, an' t' wood an' t' watter were as black as a booit. Then there com a scufflin' an' a skrikin' all ower t' wood.
It was in the Bowland Forest district, which is watered by the Ribble and its tributary becks, that I heard the fullest account of Melsh Dick; and the following story was communicated to me by an old peasant whose forefathers had for generations been woodmen in Bowland Forest.
Melsh Dick is the last survivor of our woodland divinities. His pedigree reaches back to the satyrs and dryads of Greek mythology; he claims kinship with the fauns that haunted the groves of leafy Tibur, and he lorded it in the green woods of merry England when The woodweele sang and wold not cease, Sitting upon the spraye, Soe lowde he wakened Robin Hood In the greenwood where he lay.
T' sky had bin owercussen wi' hen-scrattins an' filly-tails, but when they gat to t' dub t' wind had skifted 'em, an' t' mooin were shinin' ower Pendle Hill way an' leetin' up t' trees and makkin' t' watter glisten like silver. Lile Doed were that fain he started clappin' his hands an' well-nigh forgat all about Melsh Dick an' t' squirrel.
"All t' while Melsh Dick kept tootlin' wi' his whistle an' t' squirrels com lowpin' through t' trees, while t' espins round t' dub were fair wick wi' 'em. You could hardlins see t' boughs for t' squirrels. 'Twere same as if all t' squirrels i' Bowland Forest had heerd t' whistle an' bin foorced to follow t' sound.
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