Dumb cake.

On Midsummer Eve three girls are required to make a dumb cake.  Two must make it, two bake it, two break it, and the third put a piece under each of their pillows.  Strict silence must be preserved.  The following are the directions given how to proceed:  The two must go to the larder and jointly get the various ingredients.  First they get a bowl, each holding it and wash and dry it together.  Then each gets a spoonful of flour, a spoonful of water and a little salt.  When making the cake they must stand on something they have never stood on before.  They must mix it together and roll it.  Then they draw a line across the middle of the cake and each girl cuts her initials each on opposite sides of the line.  Then both put it into the oven and bake it.  The two take it out of the oven, and break it across the line and the two pieces are given to the third girl who places a piece under each pillow and they will dream of their future.

Not a word must be spoken and the two girls after giving the pieces to the third girl have to walk backwards to bed and get into bed backwards.  One word or exclamation by either of the three girls will break the charm.

Should a gale arise and the wind appear to be rustling in the room, during the baking or latter part of the preparation, if they look over their left shoulder they will see their future husbands.

In some districts the pieces of cake are eaten in bed and not put under their pillows but nothing must be drank before breakfast next morning.

Another variation is that two only make the cake and go through the same form as the preceding, only they divide it themselves, then each eats her portion and goes to bed backwards as in the first case and nothing must be drank or a word spoken.

An uncooked dried salt fish eaten before going to bed in silence and walking backwards and getting into bed the same way, causes ones future husband to appear in a dream with a glass of water in his hand if a teetotaller, or a glass of beer if he is not one.  Nothing must be drank before breakfast.

An old woman said she had tried it over 40 years ago and her husband brought her a glass of beer and he was not an abstainer but rather the reverse.

      September.

  Right glad to meet the evening’s dewy veil
  And see the light fade into glooms around. Clare.

The Harvest Home Suppers are now almost a thing of the past.  I went to one about eight years ago and suppose it will be the last.  It is held when the last load of corn is taken home.  This load used to be decorated with boughs and flowers and the youngest boy employed used to ride on it singing:—­

  Harvest Home!  Harvest Home;
  Two plum puddings are better than one,
  We’ve plowed, we’ve sowed,
  We’ve reaped, we’ve mowed,
  We’ve got our harvest home.

They also used to shout Largess!  Largess! but seldom got anything given them.  It was merely an old custom.