An' darklins grapit for the bauks,
And in the blue-clue* throws then,
Right fear't that night.

An' aye she win't, an' aye she swat,
I wat she made nae jaukin ;
Till something held within the pat,
Guid L-d! but she was quakin!
But whether 'twas the deil himsel,

Or whether 'twas a bauk-en',
Or whether it was Andrew Bell,
She didna wait on talkin

To spier that night.

Wee Jennie to her Grannie says,
"Will ye go wi' me, grannie?
I'll eat the apple + at the glass,
I gat frae uncle Johnie:"
She fuff't her pipe wi' sic a lunt,
In wrath she was sae vap'rin,

* Whoever would, with success, try his spell, must strictly observe these directions: Steal out, all alone, to the kiln, and, darkling, throw into the pot a clue of blue yarn; wind it in a new clue off the old one; and, towards the latter end, something will hold the thread; demand, wha hauds? i. e. who holds ? an answer will be returned from the kiln-pot, by naming the christian and surname of your future spouse.

Take a candle, and go alone to a looking-glass; eat an apple before it, and some traditions say, you should comb your hair all the time; the face of your conjugal companion, to be, will be seen in the glass, as if peeping over your shoulder.

She noticet na, an aizle brunt
Her braw new worset apron

Out-thro' that night.

"Ye little skelpie-limmer's face!
How daur you try sic sportin,
As seek the foul Thief ony place,
For him to spae your fortune?
Nae doubt but ye may get a sight!
Great cause ye hae to fear it ;
For monie a ane has gotten a fright,
An' lived an' di'd deleeret

On sic a night.

Ae hairst afore the Sherra-moor,
I mind't as weel's yestreen,
I was a gilpey then, I'm sure
I wasna past fyfteen :

The simmer had been cauld an' wat,

An' stuff was unco green;

An' aye a rantin kirn we gat,

An' just on Halloween

It fell that night.

Our stibble-rig was Rab M'Graen,

A clever, sturdy fallow;

His sin gat Eppie Sim wi' wean,

That lived in Achmacalla:
He gat hemp-seed*, I mind it weel,
An' he made unco light o't;

Steal out unperceived, and sow a handful of hemp-seed; harrowing it with any thing you can conveniently draw after you. Repeat now and then, "Hemp-seed, I saw thee; hemp-seed, I saw thee; and him (or her) that is to be my true-love, come

But monie a day was by himsel,
He was sae sairly frighted
That vera night."

Then up gat fechtin Jamie Fleck,
An' he swoor by his conscience,
That he could saw hemp-seed a peck;

For it was a' but nonsense:

The auld guidman raught down the pock,
An' out a handfu' gied him;
Syne bad him slip frae 'mang the folk,
Sometime when nae ane see'd him,
An' try't that night.

He marches through amang the stacks,
Though he was something sturtin;
The graip he for a harrow taks,
An' haurls at his curpin :
An' every now an' then he says,
"Hemp-seed I saw thee,

An' her that is to be my lass,
Come after me, and draw thee,
As fast this night."

He whistled up Lord Lenox' march
To keep his courage cheery;
Although his hair began to arch,
He was sae fley'd an' eerie :

after me and pou thee." Look over your left shoulder, and you will see the appearance of the person invoked, in the attitude of pulling hemp. Some traditions say, "Come after me, and shaw thee," that is, show thyself: in which case it simply appears. Others omit the harrowing, and say, "Come after me, and harrow thee."

Till presently he hears a squeak,
An' then a grane an' gruntle;
He by his shouther gae a keek,
An' tumbled wi' a wintle

Out-owre that night.

He roar'd a horrid murder-shout,
In dreadfu' desperation !

An' young an' auld came rinnin out

To hear the sad narration:

He swoor 'twas hilchin Jean M'Craw,
Or crouchie Merran Humphie.

Till stop! she trotted through them a';
An' wha was it but Grumphie

Asteer that night!

Meg fain wad to the barn gane

To win three wechts o' naething*;
But for to meet the deil her lane,

She pat but little faith in :

This charm must likewise be performed unperceived, and alone. You go to the barn, and open both doors, taking them off the hinges, if possible; for there is danger, that the being, about to appear, may shut the doors, and do you some mischief. Then take that instrument used in winnowing the corn, which, in our country dialect, we call a wecht; and go through all the attitudes of letting down corn against the wind. Repeat it three times; and the third time an apparition will pass through the barn, in at the windy door, and out at the other, having both the figure in question, and the appearance or retinue, marking the employment or station in life.

She gies the herd a pickle nits,

And twa red-cheekit apples,

To watch, while for the barn she sets,
In hopes to see Tam Kipples

That vera night,

She turns the key wi' canna thraw,
An' owre the threshold ventures;
But first on Sawnie gies a ca',
Syne bauldly in she enters;
A ratton rattled up the wa',

An' she cried, L-d preserve her!
An' ran through midden-hole an' a',
An' pray'd wi' zeal an' fervour,
Fu' fast that night.

They hoy't out Will, wi' sair advice;
They hecht him some fine braw ane;
It chanced the stack he faddom'd thrice *
Was timmer-propt for thrawin:
He taks a swirlie auld moss-oak,
For some black, grousome carlin;
An' loot a winze, an' drew a stroke,
Till skin in blypes came haurlin
Aff's nieves that night.

A wanton widow Leezie was,

As canty as a kittlen;

* Take an opportunity of going, unnoticed, to a bear-stack, and fathom it three times round. The last fathom of the last time, you will catch in your arms the appearance of your future conjugal yokefellow.