Until within the last fifty or sixty years, the mosses of Marton and the hills in the vicinity of the Fylde were illuminated with bonfires on All-Hallows’ Eve, or Teanlay-night, as it was called, kindled by the country people with the avowed object of succouring their friends who were lingering in the imaginary regions of a middle state. A field near Poulton received the name of “Purgatory” from the mummery of the “Teanlays” having, on one occasion at least, been celebrated there.[52] This ceremony was simple in its performance, and consisted merely of a circle of men raising masses of blazing straw on high with pitch-forks. On All Souls’ Day our Catholic forefathers were accustomed to bake cakes of oatmeal and aromatic seeds, named Soul-cakes, and these, together with pasties and furmety, formed a feast invariably eaten at that season. Remnants of this custom existed even in late years amongst the youths of Marton and some other townships and villages, who on the day of ancient festival solicited money, under the name of Soul-pence, from their neighbours. We will now enumerate some of the superstitions and beliefs that have prevailed in the Fylde more recently than those to which allusion has been made in the earlier part of the chapter. The following adage, showing the signification of certain marks on the nails, will probably be familiar to many of our readers, and it is questionable whether, even yet, it is not regarded by a few of the less enlightened of the peasantry as something more than a mere saying:— “Specks on the fingers, Fortune often lingers; Specks on the thumbs, Fortune surely comes.”