Sitting Cross-Legged.

Sir Thomas Browne tells us that to sit cross-legged, or with our fingers pectinated or shut together, is accounted bad, and friends will dissuade us from it. The same conceit religiously possessed the ancients; but Mr. Park says: "To sit cross-legged, I have always understood, was intended to produce good or fortunate consequences. Hence it was employed as a charm at school, by one boy who wished well for another, in order to deprecate some punishment which both might tremble to have incurred the expectation of. At a card-table I have also caught some superstitious players sitting cross-legged, with a view of bringing good luck."—Brand.

The Death-Watch.

This name has been given to a harmless little insect which lives in old timber, and produced a noise which somewhat resembles the ticking of a watch. It is simply the call of the insect to another of its kind, when spring is far advanced. The general number of distinct strokes in succession is from seven to nine, or eleven, and the noise exactly resembles that produced by tapping moderately with the finger nail upon a table, and, when familiarized, the insect will readily answer to the tap of the nail. The noise used to be regarded as an omen of death in the family, and is mentioned by Baxter in his "World of Spirits." Swift ridicules the superstition as follows:—

"A wood worm,
That lies in old wood, like a hare in her form,
With teeth or with claws it will bite, it will scratch,
And chamber-maids christen this worm a death-watch;
Because, like a watch, it always cries click:
Then woe be to those in the house that are sick!
For, sure as a gun, they will give up the ghost,
If the maggot cries click when it scratches the post,
But a kettle of scalding hot water injected,
Infallibly cures the timber affected;
The omen is broken, the danger is over,
The maggot will die, the sick will recover."

Sundry Rural Charms.

For good bread—

This I'll tell ye, by the way:
Maidens, when ye leavens lay,
Cross your dow and your dispatch
Will be better for your batch.—Herrick.

To make the butter come—

Come butter, come,
Come butter, come,
Peter stands at the gate
Waiting for a butter'd cake,
Come butter, come.