I am amused by the author's emphasis of "this is only superstition from the old days; we only do it for fun now."In one of the back numbers of St. Nicholas there appeared an article describing the way American children in the Southern States seek to know the future by means of different kinds of flowers, plants, etc.
It might perhaps interest the readers of this magazine to hear something about "fate-reading" in Russia, this snowy land still so full of Eastern lore, customs, and traditions. Of course it is, nowadays, a pastime and an amusement indulged in chiefly during the Christmas holidays, and more for the fun of the thing than from any belief in the truth of the prophecy.
There are a good many ways of looking into the book of fate, and I will here give a short description of the two that are most in favor among young folks. New Year's Eve and Twelfth Night are considered the best occasions of the year for these amusing experiments.
Whenever a number of young people come together during this time of the year, whether
be for dancing, playing games, or just spending a pleasant evening together, some one of the party is sure to propose "fate-reading," or "gadat," as it is called in Russian.
Seeking to know beforehand the name of one's future sweetheart is a very amusing experiment, and there are two methods of going to work. The first is managed thus: A sheet of paper is cut up into strips about four and a half inches long, on every one of which a name is written. A big basin is half filled with water, and by wetting one end of the strips of paper these are made to adhere to the rim of the basin all round, the dry ends pointing horizontally toward the center. A nutshell containing a bit of lighted wax taper is then set afloat by one of the party, the water having previously been slightly disturbed with the fingers so as to give it a rotary movement. Sometimes the skiff will pass by many names without harm, or again, it may stay a pretty long while before one without igniting it; but the name set fire to is believed to be that of the person who is to play a prominent part in one's future life. The next question of importance is to ascertain in "what direction lies your fate"—that is, from which point of the compass you are to expect it. The answer is obtained in the following way: You step outdoors and throw your slipper high into the air; then, the quarter to which the toe points when it alights is that whence will come the person who is to influence your future. Here is a true story I was once told, showing that once upon a time this prophecy actually came true.
It happened somewhere in the country, many, many years ago, in the "good old days," when there were no railroads, and people traveled about mostly in their own sledges or carriages drawn by post-horses, or, if the distance was not too great, by their own "troika"—a Russian sleigh drawn by a team of three horses. The heroine of my story was at that time a young girl still in the school-room, greatly troubled with lessons, governesses, and dancing-masters, and becoming rather tired of her quiet life in the country. So, one fine evening, just before going to bed, she thought she would like to cast one look into the future and see from what direction she was to expect her fate. She stepped out accordingly upon the terrace, and—whiz!—her slipper went skimming through the cold night air! But what was her discomfiture when she saw it fly over the high fence and into the road beyond! Here was a predicament!
She could not possibly follow and seek it in the deep snow, her feet clad in silk stockings, and only one slipper for them both! She did not like sending out the servants, who were all at supper, and it did not seem worth while to put on thick boots and begin a regular search so late at night. "This comes of being too curious," she soliloquized, as she limped to her own room. "Well, never mind ; I dare say I 'll find my slipper safe and sound to-morrow morning." But her search next day proved vain; fresh snow had fallen during the night, and the lost slipper, she thought, was probably buried deep beneath the soft white covering.
Several years passed. Her parents moved to Moscow, where, in the course of time, she married an officer in the Emperor's guards. In her husband's study, on the mantel-shelf, she often noticed, among other knick-knacks, a girl's dainty but faded satin slipper. It certainly seemed familiar to her, but though she often wondered about it, she never could remember where and when she had seen just such a shoe as that. At last her curiosity grew to such a pitch—the old slipper was always half-reminding her of something, she knew not exactly what—that she decided to question her husband about it.
"It is an old story," he answered, "and happened many years ago. I was then a young fellow, just beginning life, and traveling posthaste to join my regiment. Happening to pass through a village one evening, at a great speed (my horses being fresh and in high spirits), I suddenly felt a stinging blow on the cheek; I heard an exclamation from the other side of a fence—and something dropped into the sleigh. The 'something' proved to be a satin slipper, and as I took it up, my cheek tingling with pain, I own that I felt very angry and indignant at this unexpected assault.
"Then I remembered it was Twelfth Night; I remembered, too, the ancient custom, and by that time my wrath had calmed down. I even thought of turning back and delivering the weapon into the fair hands that had, unintentionally, dealt the blow ; but on looking round, I perceived that the village, 'Krasnoe' I think it was called, was far behind us, and I, still holding the slipper in my hand, was being carried along over the snowy steppes at full speed.
"I have never since been in that part of the country, nor have I any idea whose feet once tripped about gaily in this old thing; but I came to have a tender feeling for it. I was sorry for the girl who had surely been looking for it and probably wondered about its mysterious disappearance, and as time rolled on I somehow came to associate it with my early youth and all its golden dreams; that is why I have kept it all through these past ten years. You are not jealous, dear, are you?" he added, smiling.
"Jealous!—of my own old slipper?" she cried. "This is fun! Why, it is mine, mine, mine!" and she clapped her hands and laughed a joyous, ringing laugh. "You said the village was Krasnoe, on Twelfth Night, and just ten years ago? Why, it must be mine! From the very first I thought it looked familiar and like an old friend! Ten years ago! I was fifteen then, and, oh, so tired of lessons, lessons, lessons, and snow, snow, snow, all day long, with nobody of my age near, and the winter evenings so lonely and dull that one evening I decided to try the old experiment, and see whether there was any hope of a change for me. And it has come true! for did n't it strike you on the cheek? Poor old cheek!" and she patted it tenderly.
So you see "fate-reading" for that once, so far as I know, did come true, and though nobodv believes in it, it is still indulged in as a pleasant after-dinner pastime during the winter evenings.
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