Chapter 7

Traditional belief in signs and wonders had a great influence at that time on many people of our section.  Even those who disclaimed all belief in them were more or less under the burden of their influence.  There were ghosts; there were lucky and unlucky days of the week for beginning work and there were warnings by unusual movement of animals.  These simple folk knew nothing of astrology but they were thoroughly conversant with "Moonology."

If the new moon were far south, the month would be warm; if far north, it would be cold.   If it made its first appearance on end, the water would run out, and it would be wet; it on its back, the old Indian could hang his powderhorn on it, and it would be dry weather.  The almanac was made a daily study, and no matter how often the signs failed, their faith in them was unshaken.  Work was planned ahead according to weather predictions, and the picture of the "spread-eagled" man with the bull above and the fish below seemed a living guide to them.  If the sign were "in the head," it was time to sow cabbage, but turnips and potatoes were planted when the sign was down "in the feet."  Everything that grew must necessarily be planted in the increase of the moon.  The truth is that they so thoroughly prepared the ground and afterward cared for what they had planted that the results invariably seemed to justify their faith.

You may call it superstition, you may call it ignorance, or you may call it simply want of thought; but, call it what you may, it was an indisputable slavery.  Superstition is a tyrant and tradition had fitted a yoke from which they could not extricate themselves.

The best that conscientious parents could do was to avoid transmitting the virus of superstition, but I can testify to the fact that the taint was far-reaching.  To the last day of my natural vision, I could not see the pale crescent moon hanging low in the western sky just after sunset without taking note of my position, the intervening objects and the relative position of the sun and moon.

As I recollect, there was never an authentic wraith seen between the hours of sunrise and sunset.  True, there was a lonely little graveyard by the side of the road, but no one had ever been able to detect any supernatural agitation there when the sun shone.

It was at night, and especially on moonlight nights, that ghosts were said to roam at will; headless figures, horseless vehicles and veiled apparitions were to be seen moving among the shadows.  At such times, all kinds of signs and warning sounds were to be heard by the observing few.  Unlucky the swain whose sweetheart lived beyond the haunted woods.   However, if she were of the really sympathetic kind, she could induce him to remain until the spooks had gone to rest.

Boyd Bright had often gone home through the haunted woods on old Dobbin in moonlight, starlight and scarcely any light at all, but never had been able to see anything supernatural.  In fact, he boasted that he wasn't "afraid of any living man, much less a ghost!"  Flora Cupples, who lived near the little cemetery, had often heard him make these proud boasts and determined to test him.

Observing that Boyd tarried at his cups a little late on Saturday evenings, she draped herself in a white sheet and seated herself on a newly-made grave.  When the rather unsteady rider came by, she rose slowly and advanced.  It is hard to say which was worse frightened, rider or horse.  The animal sprang forward and Flora, fearing for the safety of the man, dropped her sheet and ran after him crying, "Boydie, Boydie! It's me." which only served to frighten him the more.  He urged the already speeding horse to even greater speed and, like Tam O'Shanter, was only too glad to reach home in safety.   Dobbin's tail was not missing to give the secret away; but, for some reason, Boyd's much vaunted bravery from the next day on was a thing of the past.