Hallowe’en to Candlemas 
Cometh a rustle in the tranquil air, 
With level flight across the purple sky, 
The birds of God, the storks, are drawing nigh. 
They settle by the lake. The angels there 
Lay softly on their feathered outspread wings, 
Sweet little blinking souls, and bid them speed 
To earth, to all the homes where mortals need 
A fresh reminder of the heavenly things. 
Endless and varied are the legends concerning babies. 
The Flemings say they are to be found in the parson’s 
garden, while in different places in Germany hollow trees 
by ponds are likely spots. I have a charming set of little 
German pictures, one showing the stork standing in a 
marsh full of lily leaves with a baby nestling among the 
feathers on his back ; and another, the baby being received 
at the diamond-paned casement by his guardian angel ; and 
the third, installed in a quaint old dark wood cradle with 
the white-winged angel bending over him. I think it is in 
Sweden they are located in the heart of a cabbage, and an 
English version says the parsley-bed. But, appropriate as 
either cabbage or parsley bed would have been to our 
special little stranger, on Boy’s interested inquiry if the 
baby had been brought down the chimney by the stork, he 
was solemnly informed it came down the river ! “ On one 
of the big burdock leaves, I suppose,” commented Boy, 
quite satisfied ; adding, “ Well, he’d have got dirty coming 
down the chimney ! ” and then gave his attention to the 
shortbread which, as he was further informed, baby had 
brought with him. In Berwickshire a special bread used 
to be baked for weddings, christenings and funerals, and 
called Gude-bread. Another term used both for wedding- 
cake and christening-cake was Dream-bread, as young 
people were supposed to put some under their pillows to 
dream of their future lovers. In “ Marriage,” Miss Ferrier 
alludes delightfully to this old custom. There are still 
kinsfolk of Miss Ferrier to be met in Edinburgh, but old 
ladies such as she describes are now rare. 
Boy’s idea that the little stranger came floating down the 
river on one of the big butterbur leaves reminds me of the 
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