The Esthonians of Russia， who， like the Magyars， belong to the great Turanian family of mankind， also celebrate the summer solstice in the usual way. They think that the St. John's fire keeps witches from the cattle， and they say that he who does not come to it will have his barley full of thistles and his oats full of weeds. In the Esthonian island of Oesel， while they throw fuel into the midsummer fire， they call out， Weeds to the fire， flax to the field， or they fling three billets into the flames， saying， Flax grow long！
And they take charred sticks from the bonfire home with them and keep them to make the cattle thrive. In some parts of the island the bonfire is formed by piling brushwood and other combustibles round a tree， at the top of which a flag flies. Whoever succeeds in knocking down the flag with a pole before it begins to burn will have good luck. Formerly the festivities lasted till daybreak， and ended in scenes of debauchery which looked doubly hideous by the growing light of a summer morning.
When we pass from the east to the west of Europe we still find the summer solstice celebrated with rites of the same general character. Down to about the middle of the nineteenth century the custom of lighting bonfires at midsummer prevailed so commonly in France that there was hardly a town or a village， we are told， where they were not kindled. People danced round and leaped over them， and took charred sticks from the bonfire home with them to protect the houses against lightning， conflagrations， and spells.
In Brittany， apparently， the custom of the midsummer bonfires is kept up to this day. When the flames have died down， the whole assembly kneels round about the bonfire and an old man prays aloud. Then they all rise and march thrice round the fire； at the third turn they stop and every one picks up a pebble and throws it on the burning pile. After that they disperse. In Brittany and Berry it is believed that a girl who dances round nine midsummer bonfires will marry within the year. In the valley of the Orne the custom was to kindle the bonfire just at the moment when the sun was about to dip below the horizon； and the peasants drove their cattle through the fires to protect them against witchcraft， especially against the spells of witches and wizards who attempted to steal the milk and butter. At Jumièges in Normandy， down to the first half of the nineteenth century， the midsummer festival was marked by certain singular features which bore the stamp of a very high antiquity. Every year， on the twenty-third of June， the Eve of St. John， the Brotherhood of the Green Wolf chose a new chief or master， who had always to be taken from the hamlet of Conihout. On being elected， the new head of the brotherhood assumed the title of the Green Wolf， and donned a peculiar costume consisting of a long green mantle and a very tall green hat of a conical shape and without a brim. Thus arrayed he stalked solemnly at the head of the brothers， chanting the hymn of St. John， the crucifix and holy banner leading the way， to a place called Chouquet. Here the procession was met by the priest， precentors， and choir， who conducted the brotherhood to the parish church. After hearing mass the company adjourned to the house of the Green Wolf， where a simple repast was served up to them. At night a bonfire was kindled to the sound of hand-bells by a young man and a young woman， both decked with flowers. Then the Green Wolf and his brothers， with their hoods down on their shoulders and holding each other by the hand， ran round the fire after the man who had been chosen to be the Green Wolf of the following year. Though only the first and the last man of the chain had a hand free， their business was to surround and seize thrice the future Green Wolf， who in his efforts to escape belaboured the brothers with a long wand which he carried. When at last they succeeded in catching him they carried him to the burning pile and made as if they would throw him on it. This ceremony over， they returned to the house of the Green Wolf， where a supper， still of the most meagre fare， was set before them. Up till midnight a sort of religious solemnity prevailed. But at the stroke of twelve all this was changed. Constraint gave way to license； pious hymns were replaced by Bacchanalian ditties， and the shrill quavering notes of the village fiddle hardly rose above the roar of voices that went up from the merry brotherhood of the Green Wolf. Next day， the twenty-fourth of June or Midsummer Day， was celebrated by the same personages with the same noisy gaiety. One of the ceremonies consisted in parading， to the sound of musketry， an enormous loaf of consecrated bread， which， rising in tiers， was surmounted by a pyramid of verdure adorned with ribbons. After that the holy hand-bells， deposited on the step of the altar， were entrusted as insignia of office to the man who was to be the Green Wolf next year.
At Chateau-Thierry， in the department of Aisne， the custom of lighting bonfires and dancing round them at the midsummer festival of St. John lasted down to about 1850； the fires were kindled especially when June had been rainy， and the people thought that the lighting of the bonfires would cause the rain to cease. In the Vosges it is still customary to kindle bonfires upon the hill-tops on Midsummer Eve； the people believe that the fires help to preserve the fruits of the earth and ensure good crops.
Bonfires were lit in almost all the hamlets of Poitou on the Eve of St.
