Raftsman's journal. [volume] (Clearfield, Pa.) 1854-1948, 1871-05-31
HOW We HUNG THE MAY BASKETS.

Of all the merry old Saxon sports ou,
sturdy great grandfathers brought over with
rhem from Merry England" which thro'
she whole year could compare with those Of
May with ''May-Day" and its flower
seekings, the ribboned MAY pole" and
the pretty flower crowned May queen, and
last, but not least lin our own tines. the
May baskets" those lrcIlicksorne fittings
in the gathering dusk
Perhaps some of our town readers never
hung a May -basket-possibIy never heard
of such thing Sorry for theml They We
lost deal of fun, and for their benefit Il
try, to explain little.
\ May basket is-wel, I hardly know
how to describe it; but It's something to bc
hing on door. Made of paper generally,
1t contains almost anything, by way of
small presents, you have a mind to put in
10 it, together with your respects, best wish
es-loye, perhaps. 1t is hung after dark at
the door of anybody the hdRger fancies.
Which done, the hanger knocks and scam
pers. If a DOr, it great disgrace to be
caught b. a girl. Such failure implies a
lack of masculine spuuk. On the other
hand, If the hanger be a girl, why, she
rather ought to be caught. 1t diSgraces the
boy again not to catch her. And the re-
ward of catching, as I've always understood
it from boy 5 stand d-point), is, if the par
ties can thus agree, kiss in the dark, and
the young lady's society homeward.
Right sorry am that all these Jolly Gus
toms are passing away. They are thought
not quite genteel enough for the young peo-
pie of this generation-too rompish and
bouncing. And are we happier in our
sets, with our cold mods and airs of in
Difference, than when a whole village joined
hands around its May-pole? Well, | hope
We are.
But I still know little rustic neighbor-
hood, away back among the mountains,
where as yet the boys and girls have never
dFcaried that the dear old May games, with
baskets" in the vesper, are not the very
r.aa Of gentility There | love to go back
lfor it used t. t. MY hOme1. and when May
night comes rclud get out certain boy
friend Of mine, and race and run and 'scrim-
mage" up and down, with a troop of merry
sirls hard beAind us-girls who Il doubt if
l ought to tell it, will get over fve-rail
fence quicker ehan you can say Jack Robi-
son. Sometimes, despite all our doubling
and lodging, we bring up on a brush heap,
and are cauch. IN wotul plight; and then
we are poked and rinched and laughed at
or, what is still more rare. by dint of hard
Scampenng We catch, actually catch, the
agile sirens fitting on before us. And then
the homeward walk IL the warm Nav eve
ming with the broad. red moon naen;ne nm
over the dark, spruce clad ridges: froggy
voices in the swamp below, and the vbip-
poOrwill chanting from the white lodges mn
in the shrubby pasture. Quite romantic,
when done according to programme.
Sometimes, though, it was anything but
romantic All. l stW remember May
night when this same Tom Edwards and
were boys of twelve. 1t makes me shrug
to think of it yet. wonder if two little
chaps ever did get into scrape and catch
It so before
As usual there was but one house in the
nelghborhood where We really cared to hang
baskets. We hung them elsewhere out of
!rlendliness; but those going to the Lynche.
were more carefully prepared than the rest
For there was Cad and jess and Lorette,
especially Lorette. Perhaps Tom would
have said especially jess
But, bless you It was about as much as