I was prevailed upon
myself to go and see a child, who, they told me, was one of these changelings,
and, indeed, must own, was not a little surprised, as well as shocked, at the
sight. Nothing under heaven could have a more beautiful face; but, though between
five and six years old, and seemingly healthy, he was so far from being able
to walk or stand, that he could not so much as move any one joint; his limbs
were vastly long for his age, but smaller than any infant's of six months; his
complexion was perfectly delicate, and he had the finest hair in the world.
He never spoke nor cried, ate scarce anything, and was very seldom seen to smile;
but if anyone called him a fairy-elf, he would frown, and fix his eyes so earnestly
on those who said it, as if he would look them through. His mother, or at least
his supposed mother, being very poor, frequently went out a charring, and left
him a whole day together. The neighbours, out of curiosity, have often looked
in at the window, to see how he behaved while alone; which, whenever they did,
they were sure to find him laughing, and in the utmost delight. This made them
judge that he was not without company, more pleasing to him than any mortals
could be; and what made this conjecture seem the more reasonable, was, that
if he were left ever so dirty, the woman, at her return, saw him with a clean
face, and his hair combed with the utmost exactness and nicety.
Source: Sir Walter Scott,
"On the Fairies of Popular Superstition" (Introduction to "The Tale of Tamlane,"
Minstrelsy of the Scottish Border, Poetic Works (Edinburgh: Ballantyne, 1833),
vol. 2, pp. 321-323. Scott's source: Waldron, Isle of Man, pp. 128-129.