Writers on local customs formerly observed in different parts of the country, have preserved the memory of a curious one connected with the last handful of wheat. In some parts the reapers threw their sickles at the reserved handful, and he who succeeded in cutting it down shouted, "I have her!" "What have you?" the others cried out. "A mare!" he replied. "What will you do with her?" was then asked. "Send her to ----," naming some neighbouring farmer whose harvest work was not completed. This rustic pleasantry was called "crying the mare." The rejoicings attendant on the bringing in of the last load of corn are thus described in the "Book of Days":--"The waggon containing it was called the hock cart; it was surmounted by a figure formed out of a sheaf, with gay dressings, intended to represent the goddess Ceres. In front men played merry tunes on the pipe and tabor, and the reapers tripped around in a hand-in-hand ring, singing appropriate songs, or simply by shouts and cries giving vent to the excitement of the day. In some districts they sang or shouted as follows:-- "Harvest home, harvest home! We ploughed, we have sowed, We have reaped, we have moved, We have brought home every load. Hip, hip, hip, harvest home!" In some parts the figure on the waggon, instead of an effigy, was the prettiest of the girl-reapers, decked with summer flowers, and hailed as the Harvest Queen. Bloomfield, in one of his Suffolk ballads, thus preserves the memory of this custom:-- "Home came the jovial Hockey load, Last of the whole year's crop; And Grace among the green boughs rode, Right plump upon the top." These and many other harvest-home customs undoubtedly had their origin in heathen times, in common with those associated with the New Year, the Epiphany, May Day, and many other festivals. Not the least important part of the harvest home observances was the supper which closed them, and which took place in the kitchen of the farmhouse or in the barn, the master and mistress presiding. The fare on these occasions was substantial and plentiful, and good home-brewed ale was poured out abundantly--we are afraid too much so. The harvest home supper of the sixteenth century, as graphically portrayed by Herrick, included:-- "Foundation of your feast, fat beef, With upper stories, mutton, veal, And bacon, which makes full the meal; With several dishes standing by, As here a custard, there a pie, And here all-tempting frumentie. And for to make the merry cheer, If smirking wine be wanting here, There's that which drowns all care, stout beer." Instead of a formal vote of thanks to the givers of the feast, the prevailing feeling was expressed in a song, one version of which runs as follows:--