Annals of our ancestors; one hundred and fifty years of history in the ...

72 ANNALS OF OUR ANCESTORS
member father's picking me up and carrying me over the road
when the stiff yellow clay had made mortar of what in summer
was a good smooth road.
We children used to love to watch our grandmother comb
her hair; it was so long and beautifully white, as she sat in her
chair it would almost reach the floor. I can yet see its silver
sheen as she drew the coarse comb through those long, shining
strands; next she would make a fine coil, doing it up and sticking
a heavy back comb in the roll, and then it was "done up"
but not finished. A headband of black silk ribbon was bound
about that fine, white forehead, and over all a white lace net
cap with a frill pleated very full. All married women in early
times wore caps, no matter how young was the matron; this
was the insignia of her wedded estate, and we younger people
thought them all "old married folks" who must wear dark
clothes — white was forbidden to wives who would follow
"good form."
I recall that one day Brother WilHam and I spent a forenoon
with grandmother. We often went there to look at the
pictures in her old Bible. On this particular morning she
interested us by telling fortunes with bread and cake and a
piece of charcoal. She placed in a saucer these three things,
and then set the dish on the old Bible. In her hand was a
small ball of woolen yarn, which she suspended over the center
of the saucer, and as the ball oscillated to and fro we would
eagerly await the place of stopping. Should it cometorest atthe
bit of cake, that meant good news from some far-away relative
who at that time happened to be in grandmother's mind; but
sad was it when the ball ceased to vibrate at the lump of char-
coal, for that meant death ! Bread meant something fortunate.
I relate this memory of my childhood to illustrate that the
traditions of New England still existed and that the old days
of behef in witches had not entirely passed away. Grand-
father used to tell of witches leaving their abodes and flying
away on a broomstick through an open upstairs window on
dark nights. They were awesome stories.
I remember well that grandmother came over one morning
to talk with mother on business, and I saw that she was cry-