Mr. Baring-Gould in his _Curious Myths of the Middle
Ages_.

A WARNING TO LOVERS.

"Metildy, you are the most good-for-nothin', triflin', owdacious,
contrary piece that ever lived."

"Oh, ma!" sobbed Matilda, "I couldn' help myself--'deed I couldn'."

"Couldn' help yourself? That's a pretty way to talk! Ain't he a nice
young man?"

"Yes'm."

"Got money?"

"Yes'm."

"And good kinfolks?"

"Yes'm."

"And loves you to destrackshun?"

"Yes'm."

"Well, in the name o' common sense, what did you send him home for?"

"Well, ma, if I must tell the truth, I must, I s'pose, though I'd
ruther die. You see, ma, when he fetcht his cheer clost to mine, and
ketcht holt of my hand, and squez it, and dropt on his knees, then
it was that his eyes rolled and he began breathin' hard, and _his
gallowses kept a creakin and a creakin'_, I till I thought in my soul
somethin' terrible was the matter with his in'ards, his vitals; and
that flustered and skeered me so that I bust out a-cryin'. Seein' me
do that, he creaked worse'n ever, and that made me cry harder; and the
harder I cried the harder he creaked, till all of a sudden it came
to me that it wasn't nothin' but his gallowses; and then I bust out a
laughin' fit to kill myself, right in his face. And then he jumpt
up and run out of the house mad as fire; and he ain't comin' back no
more. Boo-hoo, ahoo, boo-hoo!"

"Metildy," said the old woman sternly, "stop sniv'lin'. You've made
an everlastin' fool of yourself, but your cake ain't all dough yet. It
all comes of them no 'count, fashionable sto' gallowses--' 'spenders'
I believe they calls 'em. Never mind, honey! I'll send for Johnny,
tell him how it happened, 'pologize to him, and knit him a real nice
pair of yarn gallowses, jest like your pa's; and they never do creak."

"Yes, ma," said Matilda, brightening up; "but let _me_ knit 'em."

"So you shall, honey: he'll vally them a heap more than if I knit 'em.
Cheer up, Tildy: it'll all be right--you mind if it won't."

Sure enough, it proved to be all right. Tildy and Johnny were married,
and Johnny's gallowses never creaked any more.

NOTES.

Milton, in his famous description of the woman Delilah, sailing like a
stately ship of Tarsus "with all her bravery on, and tackle trim," is
particular to note "an amber scent of odorous perfume, her harbinger."
Perfume as an adjunct of feminine dress has been celebrated from the
days of the earliest poet, and