all savage religions are full of superstitions founded on luck. Savages believe that casual omens are a sign of coming events; that some trees are lucky, that some animals are lucky, that some places are lucky, that some indifferent actions-indifferent apparently and indifferent really—are lucky, and so of others in each class, that they are unlucky. Nor can a savage well distinguish between a sign of "luck" or ill-luck, as we should say, and a deity which causes the good or the ill; the indicating precedent and the causing being are to the savage mind much the same: a steadiness of head far beyond savages is required consistently to distinguish them. And it is extremely natural that they should believe so: they are playing a game-the game of life-with no knowledge of its rules; they have not an idea of the laws of nature; if they want to cure a man, they have no conception. at all of true scientific remedies; if they try anything, they must try it upon bare chance. The most useful modern remedies were often discovered in this bare empirical way. What could be more improbable - at least, for what could a prehistoric man have less given a good reason-than that some mineral springs should stop rheumatic pains, or mineral springs make wounds heal quickly? and yet the chance knowledge of the marvelous effect of gifted springs is probably as ancient as any sound knowledge as to medicine whatNo doubt it was mere casual luck at first that tried these springs and found them answer: somebody by accident tried them, and by that accident was instantly cured. The chance which happily directed men in this one case misdirected them in a thousand cases: some expedition had answered when the resolution to undertake it was resolved on under an ancient tree, and accordingly that tree became lucky and sacred; another expedition failed when a magpie crossed its path, and a magpie was said to be unlucky; a serpent crossed the path of another expedition and it had a marvelous victory, and accordingly the serpent

ever.

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became a sign of great luck (and - what a savage cannot distinguish from it—a potent deity which makes luck). Ancient medicine is equally unreasonable as late down as the Middle Ages it was full of superstitions founded on mere luck. The collection of prescriptions published under the direction of the Master of the Rolls abounds in such fancies, as we should call them. According to one of them, unless I forget, some disease-a fever, I think-is supposed to be cured by placing the patient between two halves of a hare and a pigeon recently killed.* Nothing can be plainer than that there is no ground for this kind of treatment, and that the idea of it arose out of a chance hit which came right and succeeded. There was nothing so absurd or so contrary to common-sense as we are apt to imagine about it: the lying between two halves of a hare or a pigeon was a priori, and to the inexperienced mind, quite as likely to cure disease as the drinking certain draughts of nasty mineral water. Both somehow were tried; both answered, that is, both were at the first time or at some memorable time followed by a remarkable recovery: and the only difference is, that the curative power of the mineral is persistent and happens constantly, whereas on an average of trials the proximity of a hare or pigeon is found to have no effect, and cures take place as often in cases where it is not tried as in cases where it is. The nature of minds which are deeply engaged in watching events of which they do not know the reason is to single out some fabulous accompaniment or some wonderful series of good luck or bad luck, and

*Readers of Scott's life will remember that an admirer of his in humble life proposed to cure him of inflammation of the bowels by making him sleep a whole night on twelve smooth stones, painfully collected by the admirer from twelve brooks, which was, it appeared, a recipe of sovereign traditional power. Scott gravely told the proposer that he had mistaken the charm, and that the stones were of no virtue unless wrapped up in the petticoat of a widow who never wished to marry again; and as no such widow seems to have been forthcoming, he escaped the remedy. — B.

to dread ever after that accompaniment if it brings evil, and to love it and long for it if it brings good: all savages are in this position, and the fascinating effect of striking accompaniments (in some single case) of singular good fortune and singular calamity is one great source of savage religions.

Gamblers to this day are, with respect to the chance part of their game, in much the same plight as savages with respect to the main events of their whole lives; and we well know how superstitious they all are. To this day, very sensible whist-players have a certain belief—not of course a fixed conviction, but still a certain impression - that there is "luck under a black deuce," and will half mutter some not very gentle maledictions if they turn up as a trump the four of clubs, because it brings ill-luck and is "the devil's bed-post." Of course grown-up gamblers have too much general knowledge, too much organized common-sense, to prolong or cherish such ideas; they are ashamed of entertaining them, though nevertheless they cannot entirely drive them out of their minds. But child gamblers-a number of little boys set to play loo-are just in the position of savages, for their fancy is still impressible, and they have not as yet been thoroughly subjected to the confuting experience of the real world; and child gamblers have idolatries. At least I know that years ago a set of boy loo-players, of whom I was one, had considerable faith in a certain "pretty fish," which was larger and more nicely made than the other fish we had; we gave the best evidence of our belief in its power to "bring luck," we fought for it (if our elders were out of the way), we offered to buy it with many other fish from the envied holder, and I am sure I have often cried bitterly if the chance of the game took it away from me. Persons who stand up for the dignity of philosophy, if any such there still are, will say that I ought not to mention this, because it seems trivial; but the more modest spirit of modern

thought plainly teaches, if it teaches anything, the cardinal value of occasional little facts. I do not hesitate to say that many learned and elaborate explanations of the totem-the "clan" deity, the beast or bird who in some supernatural way attends to the clan and watches over it-do not seem to me to be nearly as akin to the reality, as it works and lives among the lower races, as the "pretty fish” of my early boyhood: and very naturally so, for a grave philosopher is separated from primitive thought by the whole length of human culture; but an impressible child is as near to, and its thoughts are as much like, that thought as anything can now be.

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The worst of these superstitions is, that they are easy to make and hard to destroy: a single run of luck has made the fortune of many a charm and many idols. I doubt if even a single run of luck be necessary: I am sure that if an elder boy said that "the pretty fish was lucky-of course it was," all the lesser boys would believe it, and in a week it would be an accepted idol; and I suspect the Nestor of a savage tribe-the aged repository of guiding experience-would have an equal power of creating superstitions. But if once created they are most difficult to eradicate. If any one said that the amulet was of certain efficacy, that it always acted whenever it was applied, it would of course be very easy to disprove; but no one ever said that the "pretty fish" always brought luck, it was only said that it did so on the whole, and that if you had it you were more likely to be lucky than if you were without it. But it requires a long table of statistics of the results of games to disprove this thoroughly; and by the time people can make tables, they are already above such beliefs and do not need to have them disproved. Nor, in many cases where omens or amulets are used, would such tables be easy to make, for the data could not be found; and a rash attempt to subdue the superstition by a striking instance may easily

end in confirming it. Francis Newman, in the remarkable narrative of his experience as a missionary in Asia, gives a curious example of this. As he was setting out on a distant and somewhat hazardous expedition, his native servants tied round the neck of the mule a small bag supposed to be of preventive and mystic virtue. As the place was crowded and a whole townspeople looking on, Mr. Newman thought that he would take an opportunity of disproving the superstition; so he made a long speech of explanation in his best Arabic, and cut off the bag, to the horror of all about him. But as ill-fortune would have it, the mule had not got thirty yards up the street before she put her foot into a hole and broke her leg; upon which all the natives were confirmed in their former faith in the power of the bag, and said, "You see now what happens to unbelievers."*

Now, the present point as to these superstitions is their military inexpediency. A nation which was moved by these superstitions as to luck would be at the mercy of a nation in other respects equal which was not subject to them. In historical times, as we know, the panic terror at eclipses has been the ruin of the armies which have felt it: has made them delay to do something necessary or rush to do something destructive. The necessity of consulting the auspices, while it was sincerely practiced and before it became a trick for disguising foresight, was in classical history very dangerous. And much worse is it with savages, whose life is one of omens, who must always consult their sorcerers, who may be turned this way or that by some chance accident; who if they were intellectually able to frame a consistent military policy, and some savages in war see farther than in anything else,- are yet liable to be put out, distracted, confused, and turned aside in the carrying out of it because some event, really innocuous but to their minds foreboding, arrests and frightens them. A religion full of omens is a military misfortune, and

"Letters from the East."