Part 15

“Through which the carbuncle and diamond shine Not set by art, but there by Nature sown At the world’s birth so star-like bright they shone.”

But strangely enough, our forefathers found a similar belief existing among the Indians of New England, and what is more, these ignorant savages were able to convince the more civilized Englishmen of the truth of it.

According to these Indians, on the loftiest mountain peak, suspended from a crag overhanging a dismal lake, there was an enormous carbuncle, which many declared they had seen blazing in the night like a live coal; while by day it emitted blinding rays of light, dazzling to look upon. No mortal could hope to lay hands upon this gem, which was under the special guardianship of the genius of the mountain.

So ran the legend. It is believed to have inspired the earliest recorded journeys to the great White Mountains of New Hampshire, by adventurous whites. A reference to Sullivan’s “History of Maine” shows that the story found full credence among certain of the ignorant settlers even in his day; and Hawthorne’s grewsome tale of “The Great Carbuncle” is founded upon this weird legend, so vividly recalling those of the Harz and the Caucasus.

It is noticeable that, in the matter of superstitions concerning gems, it is not the common people, but the wealthy who alone are able to gratify their desires. Everybody has heard of the Rothschild pearls. The Princess Louise of Lorne wears a ring of jet, as a preserver of health. M. Zola carries a bit of coral as a talisman against all sorts of perils by land or water; all of which goes to show that neither wealth nor station is exempt from those secret influences which so readily affect the poor and lowly.

VIII

OF LOVE AND MARRIAGE

“Now for good lucke, cast an old shoe after me.”--Heywood.

The folk-lore of marriage is probably the most interesting feature of the general subject, to the tender sex, at least, with whom indeed none other, in the nature of things, could begin to hold so important a place. In consequence, all favorable or unfavorable omens are carefully treasured up in the memory, quite as much pains being taken to guard against evil prognostics as to propitiate good fortune.

Quite naturally, the young unmarried woman is possessed of a burning desire to find out who her future husband is to be, what he is like, whether he is rich or poor, short or tall, and if they twain are to be happy in the married state or not. To this end the oracle is duly consulted, either openly or secretly, after the best approved methods.

One of the best known modes of divination is this: If, fortunately, you find the pretty little lady-bird bug on your clothes, throw it up in the air, repeating at the same time the invocation:--

“Fly away east and fly away west, Show me where lives the one I love best.”

All charms of this nature are supposed to possess peculiar power if tried on St. Valentine’s day, Christmas Eve, or Hallowe’en. Curious it is that on a day dedicated to All the Saints in the Calendar, evil spirits, fairies, and the like are supposed to be holding a sort of magic revel unchecked, or that they should be thought to be better disposed to gratify the desires of inquisitive mortals on this day than on another. At any rate, calendar or no calendar, St. Matrimony is the patron saint of Hallowe’en.

Among the many methods of divination employed, a favorite one was to drop melted lead into a bowl of water, though any other sort of vessel would do as well, and whatever form the lead might take would signify the occupation of your future husband. Or to go out of doors in the dark, with a ball of yarn, and unwind it until some one should begin winding it at the unwound end. At this trial, the expected often happened, as the enamored swain would seldom fail to be on the watch for his sweetheart to appear. So also the white of an egg dropped in water, and set in the sun, was supposed to take on the form of some object, such as a ship under full sail, indicating that your husband would be a sailor.

Burning the nuts is perhaps the most popular mode of trying conclusions with fate, as it certainly is the most mirth-provoking. On this interesting occasion, lads and lassies arrange themselves in a circle before a blazing wood fire, on the hearth. Nuts are produced. Each person, after naming his or her nut, puts it upon the glowing coals, with the unspoken invocation:--

“If he loves me, pop and fly, If he hates me, live and die.”

The poet Gay turns this somewhat differently, but it is not our affair to reconcile conflicting presages. He sings:--

“Two hazel nuts I threw into the flame, And to each nut I gave a sweetheart’s name, This with the loudest bounce me sore amazed, That in a flame of brightest color blazed: As blazed the nut so may the passions grow, For ‘twas thy nut that did so brightly glow.”

A still different rendering is given by Burns. According to him each questioner of the charm names two nuts, one for himself, one for his sweetheart, presumably the mode practised in Scotland in his time:--

“Jean slips in twa wi’ tentie e’e; Wha ’twas, she wadna tell; But this is Jock, an’ this is me, She says in to hersel’: He blaz’d o’er her, an’ she owre him, As they wad never mair part; ’Till, fuff! he started up the lum, An’ Jean had e’en a sair heart To see’t that night.”

Popping corn sometimes takes the place of burning the nuts. The spoken invocation is then “Pit, put, turn inside out!”

There are also several methods of performing this act of divination with apples. The one most practised in New England is this: First pare an apple. If you succeed in removing the peel all in one piece, throw it over your head, and should the charm work well, the peel will so fall as to form the first letter of your future husband’s name, or as Gay poetically puts it:--

“I pare this pippin round and round again, My shepherd’s name to nourish on the plain: I fling th’ unbroken paring o’er my head, Upon the grass a perfect L is read.”

When sleeping in a strange bed for the first time, name the four posts for some of your male friends. The post that you first look at, upon waking in the morning, bears the name of the one whom you will marry. Care is usually taken to fall asleep on the right side of the bed.

By walking down the cellar stairs backward, holding a mirror over your head as you go, the face of the person whom you will marry will presently appear in the mirror.

The oracle of the daisy flower, so effectively made use of in Goethe’s “Faust,” is of great antiquity, and is perhaps more often consulted by blushing maidens than any other. When plucking away the snowy petals, the fair questioner of fate should murmur low to herself the cabalistic formula:--

“‘He loves me, loves me not,’ she said, Bending low her dainty head O’er the daisy’s mystic spell. ‘He loves me, loves me not, he loves,’ She murmurs ’mid the golden groves Of the corn-fields on the fell.”

As the last leaf falls, so goes the prophecy.