All Hallow-e’en.
Among the inhabitants of Scotland, the last day of October is called All Hallow-e’en, or Holy evening. The people formerly had many superstitions and some pleasant customs respecting it. These still linger in the Highlands; and the following story, extracted from an English book, will give some account of the manner in which this evening is still commemorated there.
There are few Highlanders in whom the memory of Hallow-e’en does not awaken some pleasing recollections of the past, and with it are associated some of their happiest days. I propose to explain to my young friends some of the joyous festivities of this season.
Among many families in the Highlands, there were none I loved so well as the Graemes of Glennburton. Four merry girls and one quiet boy circled their hearth on the last day of October, the eventful Hallow-e’en. A crowd of young visitors was also there. The cheerful dance over, our dear and kind friend, Mr. Graeme, drank to many happy Hallow-e’ens, in which we noisy youngsters joined most heartily.
The nut basket now appeared. Nell Graeme, the second daughter, a tall girl of seventeen, singled out two nuts and said, “Who shall I burn?” At once, the whole group, who were quite prepared, cried, “Geraldine and Lord Elva.” The two nuts were placed in one bright spot in the fire; they burnt for a time most lovingly; but at last Geraldine bounded out of the fire. Oh! naughty girl—she had fairly quarrelled with him whom her young companions had declared to be her sweetheart.
Geraldine now sprang forward, and revenged herself by burning the blushing Nell with her coz. It was very amusing to watch the countenance of each damsel, as her name was given to the nut, and coupled with another. One girl blushed, a second laughed, a third cast down her eyes, and so on. Tired of this, they at length hurried to tea; and then came the real fun, as that noisy, pretty black-eyed girl, Jessie Graeme, declared.
Now, my young friends, follow me to Mrs. Graeme’s kitchen; yes, to the kitchen,—clean, bright, and pure enough for any one to enter; the floor well scoured and sprinkled with sand; the small copper saucepans and tin covers hung round the walls, shining and bright as burnished gold; the mutton-hams and other delicacies in such famous order hanging overhead. It was the abode of plenty and cleanliness; so I thought, as I entered it, and surveyed with delight the preparations for the “company,” as Mary the cook said.
A huge tub full of crystal water was in the middle of the floor, and a basket of immense rosy-cheeked apples. The company entered. Plump went three dozen apples into the tub, with a splashing that made the ladies retreat speedily. Mr. Graeme put numerous shillings and sixpences into the apples, and we all ducked to fish them out. Happy those who got an apple; thrice happy those who got money in their apples. Many untoward accidents occurred; Jane had fastened her long curls with a comb, and as she stooped and hunted down a rolling apple, Jessie Graeme, lover of mischief and fun, pulled out the comb; down went the ringlets, to assist poor Jane in her search after the apple.
Jessie laughed heartily, and in her turn danced up to the tub. No sooner had she bent over the water, than Hugh slily pushed her in, and the ill-fated Jessie fell plump into the water. Her brother helped her out, and though strongly tempted to cuff his cheeks for his impudence, she was obliged to march off and change her wet clothing. Tired at length of this diversion, “snap dragon” was called. “Hurrah for snap dragon!” cried Harriet Graeme.
A large flat dish, filled with whisky and raisins, cleared from their stalks, was laid upon the table; gloves and mittens were hastily torn off; pocket handkerchiefs, scarfs, and other combustible parts of the ladies’ dresses were put out of the way. There was a rush and a crowd round the dish; Hugh held the match to the spirits, and the blue flame flickered, and the “mountain dew” blazed gloriously. “Begin!” shouted Hugh.
Fifty hands were at once dipped into the snap dragon, and drawn back, carrying streams of the blue and liquid flame. Another plunge! fresh screams, and a river of fire on the table; the dish upset; Harriet’s dress on fire; Donald the gardener’s hair in a blaze. A hearth-rug nearly smothered Harriet, and a bucket of water cooled Donald completely. There was a universal burst of laughter; even Black Kitty, the cook maid, so called, from her jet black hair, was heard to giggle behind the scullery door; and Donald, now recovered from his singeing and ducking, roared himself into convulsions in the back passage. They now all began to count the raisins; whoever had the largest odd number was the lucky one. Merry Jessie was the lucky one.
The happy party now retired to the drawing-room, saying, that of all games, snap dragon was the most amusing. Up stairs, they found a blazing fire, and supper laid on the table. In the centre of it stood, most conspicuously, the Hallow-e’en cake, so delicately iced over and ornamented with a wreath and bunch of the last roses. This cake contained a ring, for marriage; a sixpence for wealth; and a thimble, for an old maid. The cake was cut up by Hugh. The youngest of the party took the first piece, and the gentle fairy, Minna Erskine, found the ring. Jessie Graeme darted forward, and seizing a bit of cake, crumbled it to atoms, and found the sixpence. Happy little pair, who, almost screaming with joy, fairly hugged each other with delight.
Dear mamma was declared a confirmed old maid by finding the thimble. The laughter of the young ones at this knew no bounds; but they were soon brought to order by Mr. Graeme, reminding them that it was within a quarter of an hour of midnight, and that “good nights” must be exchanged. The young ones quickly though reluctantly took the hint, and after affectionate kissings and greetings, from our papas and mammas, we all marched off, once more to talk of the events of the evening, and to anticipate and prepare for fresh sports and merriment.
Bonaparte’s Wit.—Soon after Napoleon had attained the rank of captain, a soldier one day approached him, and showed him his coat which was in rags, at the same time demanding another in a dissatisfied tone. “A new coat?” replied the young officer; “you do not call to mind that your honorable scars would no longer be visible.” This well-timed compliment entirely satisfied the poor soldier.
After Napoleon became emperor, during a parade, a young officer stepped out of the ranks, in extreme agitation, to complain that he had been ill-used, slighted, and passed over, and that he had been five years a lieutenant, without being able to obtain promotion. “Calm yourself,” said the emperor; “I was seven years a lieutenant, and yet you see that a man may push himself forward for all that.” Everybody laughed, and the young officer, suddenly cooled by these words, returned to his place.
The following description of the gardens at the Tusculan villa, Belvidere, in Italy, is given by a traveller. “Behind the palace,” says he, “an aquatic stream dashes precipitately down a succession of terraces, and is tormented below, into a variety of tricks. The whole court seems alive at the turning of the cock. Water attacks you on every side; it is squirted in your face from invisible holes; it darts up in a constellation of jets d’eau; it returns in misty showers, which present against the sun a beautiful iris. Water is made to blow the trumpet of a centaur and the pipe of a cyclops; water plays two organs; makes the birds warble and the muses tune their reeds; it sets Pegasus neighing, and all Parnassus on music. I mention this magnificent touch as a specimen of Italian hydraulics. Its sole object is to surprise strangers.”
At Thebes, the coffins of mummies are burnt for fire-wood, and the ruins of limestone are burned for lime.
The stranger carrying off Katrina.