Love-Charms

--Come, do not weep, my girl,
Forget him, pretty pensiveness; there will
Come others, every day, as good as he.

SIR J. SUCKLING.

The approach of a wedding in a family is always an event of great
importance, but particularly so in a household like this, in a retired
part of the country. Master Simon, who is a pervading spirit, and,
through means of the butler and housekeeper, knows everything that goes
forward, tells me that the maid-servants are continually trying their
fortunes, and that the servants' hall has of late been quite a scene of
incantation.

It is amusing to notice how the oddities of the head of a family flow
down through all the branches. The squire, in the indulgence of his love
of everything that smacks of old times, has held so many grave
conversations with the parson at table, about popular superstitions and
traditional rites, that they have been carried from the parlour to the
kitchen by the listening domestics, and, being apparently sanctioned by
such high authorities, the whole house has become infected by them.

The servants are all versed in the common modes of trying luck, and the
charms to ensure constancy. They read their fortunes by drawing strokes
in the ashes, or by repeating a form of words, and looking in a pail of
water. St. Mark's Eve, I am told, was a busy time with them; being an
appointed night for certain mystic ceremonies. Several of them sowed
hemp-seed, to be reaped by their true lovers; and they even ventured
upon the solemn and fearful preparation of the dumb-cake. This must be
done fasting and in silence. The ingredients are handed down in
traditional form:--"An egg-shell full of salt, an egg-shell full of
malt, and an egg-shell full of barley meal." When the cake is ready, it
is put upon a pan over the fire, and the future husband will appear,
turn the cake, and retire; but if a word is spoken, or a fast is broken,
during this awful ceremony, there is no knowing what horrible
consequence would ensue!

The experiments in the present instance came to no result; they that
sowed the hemp-seed forgot the magic rhyme that they were to pronounce,
so the true lover never appeared; and as to the dumb-cake, what between
the awful stillness they had to keep, and the awfulness of the midnight
hour, their hearts failed them when they had put the cake in the pan, so
that, on the striking of the great house-clock in the servants' hall,
they were seized with a sudden panic, and ran out of the room, to which
they did not return until morning, when they found the mystic cake burnt
to a cinder.

The most persevering at these spells, however, is Phoebe Wilkins, the
housekeeper's niece. As she is a kind of privileged personage, and
rather idle, she has more time to occupy herself with these matters. She
has always had her head full of love and matrimony, she knows the
dreaming book by heart, and is quite an oracle among the little girls of
the family, who always come to her to interpret their dreams in the
mornings.

During the present gaiety of the house, however, the poor girl has worn
a face full of trouble; and, to use the housekeeper's words, "has fallen
into a sad hystericky way lately." It seems that she was born and
brought up in the village, where her father was parish-clerk, and she
was an early playmate and sweetheart of young Jack Tibbets. Since she
has come to live at the Hall, however, her head has been a little
turned. Being very pretty, and naturally genteel, she has been much
noticed and indulged: and being the housekeeper's niece, she has held an
equivocal station between a servant and a companion. She has learnt
something of fashions and notions among the young ladies, which have
effected quite a metamorphosis; insomuch that her finery at church on
Sundays has given mortal offence to her former intimates in the village.
This has occasioned the misrepresentations which have awakened the
implacable family pride of Dame Tibbets. But what is worse, Phoebe,
having a spice of coquetry in her disposition, showed it on one or two
occasions to her lover, which produced a downright quarrel; and Jack,
being very proud and fiery, has absolutely turned his back upon her for
several successive Sundays.

The poor girl is full of sorrow and repentance, and would fain make up
with her lover; but he feels his security, and stands aloof. In this he
is doubtless encouraged by his mother, who is continually reminding him
of what he owes to his family; for this same family pride seems doomed
to be the eternal bane of lovers.

As I hate to see a pretty face in trouble, I have felt quite concerned
for the luckless Phoebe, ever since I heard her story. It is a sad thing
to be thwarted in love at any time, but particularly so at this tender
season of the year, when every living thing, even to the very butterfly,
is sporting with its mate; and the green fields and the budding groves,
and the singing of the birds, and the sweet smell of the flowers, are
enough to turn the head of a love-sick girl. I am told that the coolness
of Young Ready-Money lies heavy at poor Phoebe's heart. Instead of
singing about the house as formerly, she goes about, pale and sighing,
and is apt to break into tears when her companions are full of
merriment.

Mrs. Hannah, the vestal gentlewoman of my Lady Lillycraft, has had long
talks and walks with Phoebe, up and down the avenue, of an evening; and
has endeavoured to squeeze some of her own verjuice into the other's
milky nature. She speaks with contempt and abhorrence of the whole sex,
and advises Phoebe to despise all the men as heartily as she does. But
Phoebe's loving temper is not to be curdled; she has no such thing as
hatred or contempt for mankind in her whole composition. She has all the
simple fondness of heart of poor, weak, loving woman; and her only
thoughts at present are, how to conciliate and reclaim her wayward
swain.

The spells and love-charms, which are matters of sport to the other
domestics, are serious concerns with this love-stricken damsel. She is
continually trying her fortune in a variety of ways. I am told that she
has absolutely fasted for six Wednesdays and three Fridays successively,
having understood that it was a sovereign charm to ensure being married
to one's liking within the year. She carries about, also, a lock of her
sweetheart's hair, and a riband he once gave her, being a mode of
producing constancy in her lover. She even went so far as to try her
fortune by the moon, which has always had much to do with lovers'
dreams and fancies. For this purpose she went out in the night of the
full moon, knelt on a stone in the meadow, and repeated the old
traditional rhyme:

"All hail to thee, moon, all hail to thee:
I pray thee, good moon, now show to me
The youth who my future husband shall be."

When she came back to the house, she was faint and pale, and went
immediately to bed. The next morning she told the porter's wife that
she had seen some one close by the hedge in the meadow, which she was
sure was young Tibbets; at any rate, she had dreamt of him all night;
both of which, the old dame assured her, were most happy signs. It has
since turned out that the person in the meadow was old Christy, the
huntsman, who was walking his nightly rounds with the great staghound;
so that Phoebe's faith in the charm is completely shaken.