St John's Eve - 23/24 June 1858

Young Dorcas, my maidservant, has just gotten back from her St John's Eve jaunt in Yalbury Wood. Rather flustered is, I think, quite a good description of her.
I remember this was quite a tradition of the Beaker Fertility Folk back in the future - rushing off into the woods on St John's Eve. The slight difference being that they did it every other day of the year as well. Earlier on I caught Dorcas peeling an apple very carefully, so I suspect she's been trying to find out who her husband will be. Although she may have a little more idea after this evening's revelry, I suspect.

Meanwhile, Charley's in a state as well. He decided to sit up in the Church hatch to see who from the parish was going to die within the year.  Goodness knows who he thought he was going to see. But he's come in half an hour ago screaming that his hair will go grey and refusing to tell us what he saw.

All in all, I'm glad it's one Midsummer eve once a year.

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