the charm would be
broken. She also directed her to lock the cellar-door, and on no
pretence to open it in less than forty-eight hours.

"If," added she, "you closely follow these directions, then, by the
power of my art, you will find the basin conveyed to the very stone
under which the money lies hid, and a fine treasure it will be." Mrs.
Jenkins, who believed every word the woman said, did exactly as she
was told, and Rachel took her leave with a handsome reward.

When farmer Jenkins came home, he desired his wife to draw him a cup
of cider; this she put off doing so long that he began to be
displeased. At last she begged he would drink a little beer instead.
He insisted on knowing the reason, and when at last he grew angry, she
told him all that had passed; and owned that as the pot of gold
happened to be in the cider-cellar, she did not dare to open the
door, as she was sure it would break the charm. "And it would be a
pity, you know," said she, "to lose a good fortune for the sake of a
draught of cider."

The farmer, who was not so easily imposed upon, suspected a trick. He
demanded the key, and went and opened the cellar-door; there he found
the basin, and in it five round pieces of tin covered with powder.
Mrs. Jenkins burst out a crying; but the farmer thought of nothing but
getting a warrant to apprehend the cunning woman. Indeed, she well
proved her claim to that name, when she insisted that the cellar-door
might be kept locked till she had time to get out of the reach of all
pursuit.

* * * * *

Poor Sally Evans. I am sure she rued the day that ever she listened to
a fortune-teller. Sally was as harmless a girl as ever churned a pound
of butter; but Sally was ignorant and superstitious. She delighted in
dream-books, and had consulted all the cunning women in the country to
tell her whether the two moles on her cheek denoted that she was to
have two husbands, or only two children. If she picked up an old
horseshoe going to church, she was sure that would be a lucky week.
She never made a black-pudding without borrowing one of the parson's
old wigs to hang in the chimney, firmly believing there were no other
means to preserve them from bursting.

She would never go to bed on Midsummer-eve without sticking up in her
room the well-known plant called Midsummer-men, as the bending of the
leaves to the right or to the left, would not fail to tell her whether
Jacob, of whom we