Last summer, ain roomy en meet an old countryman, and talk to   to o me,  all c and t muc tural and supernatural creatures of ting like a Cian,” and is certain t eals apples by rolling about under an apple tree until ticking to every quill. ain too t ts, of s, and to cats at time of some great c is o meddle  it mige you in a   poison in you, and t ’s tootimes o s, and tails; but ts are not ten cats, s are no talks of all ures except squirrels— seems an affectionate interest, t times ting a rahem.

    I am not certain t inguisural and supernatural very clearly. old me t foxes and cats like, above all, to be in ter nigainly pass from some story about a fox to a story about a spirit o speak about a marten cat—a rare beast no o sleep in a garden- full of apples, and all nigtling plates and knives and forks over . Once, at any rate, be  in time I  cutting timber over in Inc eig ts, all and not simple, and o the word clean as we would use words like fresh or comely.

    Otoo s in ted oods. A labourer told us of  is called S he weed.

    ed from La a. And t a candle t able. An’ old me t o Stle fello as   of t, and at last it brougo t vanis him.”

    A old me of a sig sain deep pool in tile from t blast of rees  and broken and fell into ter out of it  up to t  myself I only sating trees fell. Dark clothes he had on, and he was headless.”

    A man told me t one day, o catcain field, full of boulders and bus is o t  a button t if I fling a pebble on to t bus ay on i