Urquell_, 200, citing Rulikowski; viii. _Rev. Trad. Pop._, 487.

 [244.3]
 Strack, 51, quoting Mannhardt.

 [244.4]
 Grimm, _Teut. Myth._, 1833 (a Swedish prescription from Hülphers,
 given in English by Thorpe, ii. _N. Myth._, 113). Several modern
 English cases given by Henderson, 181.

 [245.1]
 Von Wlislocki, in iii. _Am Urquell_, 64.

 [245.2]
 Featherman, _Aoneo-Mar._, 60.

 [245.3]
 Featherman, _Chiapo-Mar._, 355.

 [245.4]
 Powell, 92. Cf. the Australian custom. ii. Curr, 52.

 [245.5]
 H. Vos, in iii. _Internat. Arch._, 72.

 [245.6]
 i. Crantz, 193.

 [245.7]
 Dr. M. Pasquarelli, in i. _Rivista_, 640, citing several cases.

 [246.1]
 Du Chaillu, _Ashango-land_, 199, 201.

 [246.2]
 Von Wlislocki, in iii. _Am Urquell_, 64.

 [247.1]
 Arnason, i. _Sagen_, 20.

 [247.2]
 Mr. Paton, in letter to me dated 25th May 1894.

 [250.1]
 ii. Risley, 41.

 [250.2]
 ii. Risley, 49.

 [251.1]
 Featherman, _Papuo-Mel._, 333.

 [251.2]
 Herod. iii. 11.

 [251.3]
 Diodorus, xxii.

 [252.1]
 i. _Panjab N. and Q._, 122.

 [252.2]
 Markham, _Rites and Laws_, 25, 28.

 [252.3]
 Burton, _Wit and Wisd._, 450.

 [252.4]
 Von Wlislocki, _Volksdicht._, 250.

 [252.5]
 v. _L’Anthropologie_, 352, citing and reviewing E. C. Taintor, _Les
 aborigènes du nord de Formose_.

 [253.1]
 Krauss, _Sitte und Brauch_, 630. The old Norsemen seem to have made
 leagues by drinking together. See Morris, ii. _Heimskringla_, 105.

 [253.2]
 i. Casati, 217.

 [253.3]
 Saxo, 23; Elton’s version, xxxiii and 28; Du Chaillu, ii. _Viking
 Age_, 64, quoting the saga of _Egil and Asmund_.

 [253.4]
 Herod. iii. 8. It may be observed, in reference to Herodotus’
 identification of Alilat with Urania, that Allatu (? = Alilat) appears
 to be the more correct transliteration of the name of the Babylonian
 goddess of the Underworld, given by Smith (_Chald. Gen._, 230) as
 Ninkigal. Jeremias, _Höllenfahrt, passim._

 [254.1]
 Robertson Smith, _Rel. Sem._, 297.

 [255.1]
 Livingstone, _Miss. Travels_, 489.

 [255.2]
 Kuno Meyer, in i. _Arch. Rev._, 304, translating the saga.

 [255.3]
 Finamore, _Trad. Pop. Abr._, 172.

 [256.1]
 i. Bancroft, 636, citing Father Joseph Arlegui.

 [256.2]
 Featherman, _Papuo-Mel._, 281.

 [256.3]
 Lewin, 228, 315, 322.

 [256.4]
 vii. _Mélusine_, 76, quoting _Annales Apostoliques_, July 1894.

 [256.5]
 i. Risley, lviii. ii. 16, 111.

 [257.1]
 Caroline Islanders, Featherman, _Oceano-Mel._, 348; La Pérouse
 Islanders, _Ibid._, _Papuo-Mel._, 95.

 [257.2]
 i. De Nino, 51. As to the blood-rite in modern Italy, see Strack, 12;
 Finamore, _Trad. Pop. Abruz._, 101.

 [258.1]
 Krauss, _Sitte und Brauch_, 633.

 [259.1]
 _Congress Report_ (1891), 249, _et seqq._ Cf. the Apache ceremony of
 spitting in a hole made in the ground at concluding a peace. iii.
 _Journ. Am. F.L._, 54. I add a few references here in support of the
 opinion that the saliva contains the life, and the recipient’s life is
 enhanced by a portion of the giver’s. The examples given subsequently
 in the text are directed to the further point raised in the following
 paragraph. iii. _Am Urquell_, 9, 54, 56, 58; iv. 170, 274; v. 20;
 Krauss, _Sitte und Brauch_, 548; vi. _Mélusine_, 251; Blunt, 166;
 Marcellus, viii. 166, 172, 191; ix. 107; xxxvi. 70; Finamore, _Trad.
 Pop. Abruz._, 79, 135, 170, 191, 203; De Mensignac, 80, _et seqq._;
 iv. _Zeits. des Vereins_, 84; i. _Rivista_, 222. (Cf. Zanetti, 59, 63;
 Von den Steinen, 335; Hodgkinson, 227.)

 [261.1]
 Mrs. F. D. Bergen, in iii. _Journ. Am. F.L._, 51.

 [262.1]
 Persius, _Sat._ ii. 31. Lustration with spittle was also part of the
 rites of purification in the Mysteries. Anrich, 211.

 [262.2]
 Von Wlislocki, _Siebenb. Sachs._, 144.

 [262.3]
 De Mensignac, 59, 61, 58; Garnett, ii. _Wom._, 475; Hillner, 21;
 Kaindl, 5; Sajaktis, in iv. _Zeits. des Vereins_, 139.

 [262.4]
 Extracts from the Journal of Thomas Dineley, Esq., in i. _Journ. Kilk.
 Arch. Soc._, N.S., 182; Prof. Haddon, in iv. _Folklore_, 361, 358; Dr.
 C. R. Browne, in iii. _Proc. Roy. Ir. Ac._, 3rd Ser., 358.

 [263.1]
 iv. _Folklore_, 357.

 [263.2]
 iii. _Am Urquell_, 55.

 [263.3]
 Ockley, 351.

 [263.4]
 Mungo Park, 246; De Mensignac, 10, citing Anne Raffenel, _Nouveau
 Voyage_, and Abel Houvelacque, _Les Nègres_.

 [263.5]
 Winwood Reade, 46.

 [263.6]
 Burton, i. _Gelele_, 259.

 [264.1]
 De Mensignac, 12, quoting Anne Raffenel. Mr. Crombie cites from
 Burckhardt, a similar custom among the Bedouin. If a thief be caught
 and abused by the man he has wronged, and can manage to spit on
 another, the latter must defend him, even against a fellow-tribesman,
 and may kill the assailant in his defence. _Congress Report_ (1891),
 257.

 [264.2]
 De Mensignac, 22. A similar record by Peters is quoted by W. Simpson,
 _Sikh Initiation_, 5.

 [264.3]
 Paulitschke, 246. Cf. the Pueblo story of the reason why all the Hano
 can talk Hopí and none of the Hopitah can talk Hano. viii. _Rep. Bur.
 Ethn._, 36. The language of some of the lower animals is acquired in
 folktales elsewhere by the creature spitting into the hero’s mouth. In
 Ashango-land guests are given red powder to rub themselves with. Du
 Chaillu, _Ashango-land_, 341. This appears to be a modified form of
 the blood-covenant.

 [265.1]
 Paulitschke, 206.

 [265.2]
 De Mensignac, 9.

 [265.3]
 Casalis, 306.

 [265.4]
 Addy, 59.

 [265.5]
 De Mensignac, 12, citing Réville. I have mislaid a reference to a
 more direct authority. Cf. the practice in the Cordilleras mentioned
 on p. 208.

 [266.1]
 ii. Brand, 572 note. The practice is a very familiar one. A variant
 practice is to spit on the first money received in the New Year. This
 is also practised in France. De Mensignac, 69.

 [266.2]
 Monseur, 90.

 [266.3]
 Lubbock, 97, citing Franklin; Addy, 94.

 [266.4]
 Von Wlislocki, _Siebenb. Sachs._, 159.

 [266.5]
 Grimm, _Teut. Myth._, 1847.

 [267.1]
 De Mensignac, 66.

 [267.2]
 Tuchmann, in vi. _Mélusine_, 231.

 [267.3]
 De Mensignac, 66.

 [267.4]
 vi. _Rep. Bur. Ethn._, 374.

 [267.5]
 De Mensignac, 77.

 [267.6]
 iii. _Am Urquell_, 55, 56.

 [267.7]
 De Mensignac, 54, 69.

 [268.1]
 Du Chaillu, _Equatorial Africa_, 430. Blowing alone appears in the
 Bakalai ceremony. _Ibid._, 393. Blowing here, as in other cases, seems
 a substitute for spitting.

 [268.2]
 ix. _Rep. Bur. Ethn._, 574, quoting Major Cornwallis Harris.

 [268.3]
 Anrich, 210.

 [269.1]
 Kane, 407. Cf. the charms for rendering dogs faithful given _ante_,
 pp. 124, 127.***

 [269.2]
 Winwood Reade, 131.

 [269.3]
 iii. _Am Urquell_, 57.

 [270.1]
 v. _Journ. Am. F.L._, 183.

 [270.2]
 Scot, 219; iii. _Am Urquell_, 56; Liebrecht, in _Gerv. Tilb._ 220;
 Pliny, xxviii. 7.

 [270.3]
 i. Binger, 194.

 [270.4]
 Kane, 216.

 [270.5]
 Theocritus, xx. Cf. vi., where the object is expressly to ward off the
 Evil Eye.

 [271.1]
 Pliny, xxviii. 7. Cf. the Italian custom mentioned by De Mensignac,
 56.

 [271.2]
 ii. Brand, 573 note. See _ante_, pp. 67, 132.***

 [271.3]
 i. _Rivista_, 618; ii. 155.

 [271.4]
 iii. _Am Urquell_, 57. The Girondins also spit on the wads of their
 wooden shoes before flinging them out, to avoid the fourcat, a kind of
 corn which grows in the fork of the great toe. De Mensignac, 54.

 [271.5]
 Von Wlislocki, _Siebenb. Sachs._, 110, 116.

 [271.6]
 iii. _Am Urquell_, 108.

 [272.1]
 Georgeakis, 343.

 [272.2]
 v. _Journ. Am. F.L._, 63.

 [272.3]
 Pliny, xxviii. 7; xvii. Pitrè, 243; xv. 136.

 [272.4]
 De Mensignac, 61.

 [272.5]
 Tuchmann, in vi. _Mélusine_, 86.

 [273.1]
 iii. _Am Urquell_, 57; De Mensignac, 54; Pliny, xxviii. 7. An
 elaborate counter-spell to the Evil Eye still extant in Calabria is
 detailed by Sig. A. Renda, in i. _Rivista_, 290.

 [273.2]
 Haddon and Browne, in ii. _Proc. Roy. Ir. Ac._, 3rd ser., 819.

 [273.3]
 vii. _Journ. Am. F.L._, 126.

 [273.4]
 Pigorini-Beri, 40; Tuchmann, in vi. _Mélusine_, 108.

 [274.1]
 Prof. Mikhailovskii, translated by O. Wardrop, in xxiv. _Journ. Anthr.
 Inst._, 97.

 [274.2]
 Emil Hassler, in _Mem. Cong. Anthr._, 356.

 [274.3]
 S. K. Kusnezow, in viii. _Internat. Arch._, 21.

 [274.4]
 F. H. Wells, in v. _Rep. Austr. Ass._, 518.

 [274.5]
 Suetonius, _Vit. Vesp._, vii.; Tacitus, _Hist._, iv. 81.

 [274.6]
 Dalyell, 76, citing St. Jerome’s _Life of Saint Hilarion_.

 [275.1]
 ii. Doolittle, 373, 374.

 [275.2]
 Campbell, _Khondistan_, 112.

 [275.3]
 Simpson, _Sikh Initiation_, 5, quoting Wolf. Dr. Karl Piehl gives two
 curious extracts from the inscription on the tomb of Pepi II., an
 Egyptian monarch of the sixth dynasty, xv. _Proc. Soc. Bibl. Arch._,
 250. They appear to belong to the order of thought under discussion;
 but in the absence of the context it is impossible to determine their
 exact meaning. Spitting is mentioned as a charm against rain in the
 Obererzgebirge, Spiess, _Obererz._, 34. It is probably an extension of
 the idea of spitting on a witch.

 CHAPTER XIII NOTES

 [280.1]
 Herod., iii. 38, 99.

 [280.2]
 _Ibid._, i. 216; iv. 26. Father Favre identifies the Padaioi with the
 Battas of Sumatra (Favre, _Wild Tribes_, 5), and Major Rennell the
 Issedones with the Oigurs or Eluths, a Mongol tribe conquered in the
 last century by the Chinese (G. Busk in ii. _Journ. Ethn. Soc._, N.S.,
 80, citing Rennell’s _Geographical System of Herodotus_). These
 identifications, however, must be regarded as doubtful.

 [281.1]
 Strabo, xi. 11, § 8; iv. 5, § 4.

 [281.2]
 Marco Polo, lxi.

 [281.3]
 Marco Polo, clxxvi.

 [282.1]
 Maundeville, xviii., xix., xxxi.

 [282.2]
 iii. _Mélusine_, 505, citing Friar Jean du Plan de Carpin and others;
 Vos, in iii. _Internat. Archiv_, 70, citing Plan de Carpin and another
 Franciscan, W. Rubruk.

 [282.3]
 In Asia. Certain tribes of the interior of Siam, Barbosa, 190; the
 Birhors of Chutia Nágpúr (Bengal), Dalton, 158, 220; iii.
 _Mélusine_, 409; the Gonds, Featherman, _Tur._, 117 note, citing
 Rowney’s _Wild Tribes of India_; the Samoyeds of Siberia, iii.
 _Internat. Arch._, 71.

 In the East Indian Islands. Sumatra, the Battas, Favre, _Wild Tribes_,
 5; viii. _Mélusine_, 410; ii. Churchill’s _Voyages_, 180; Featherman,
 _Papuo-Mel._, 336 note (Marsden, however, says nothing about it, and
 the most recent traveller denies it. Modigliani, _Batacchi_, 152,
 181); Philippine Islands, the Montescos, Featherman, _ibid._, 499;
 Floris, the Rakka, ii. _Journ. Ind. Arch._, 174 (these statements are
 discredited in a note by the editor of the _Journ. Ind. Arch._, I do
 not know on what ground); ii. Yule, 236, 240, citing various
 authorities.

 In Australia. Dawson, 67; iii. _Journ. Ethn. Soc._, 29; ii. _Journ.
 Anthr. Inst._, 179; xiii. _ibid._, 135, 298; xxiv. 171, 182; iii.
 _Trans. Ethn. Soc._, N.S., 248; Featherman, _Papuo-Mel._, 157, 160
 note, 161; Letourneau, _L’Év. Rel._, 35, citing Taplin; ii. Curr, 18,
 63, 119, 331, 341, 346, 361, 367, 404, 432, 449; iii. 21, 138, 147,
 159.

 In Africa. Congo tribes, iii. _Mélusine_, 433; Maniana, Winwood
 Reade, 160, citing Mollien; Manyuema, Andree, _Anthropophagie_, 41,
 citing Wissmann.

 In South America. Various tribes in Brazil, ii. Churchill’s _Voy._,
 133, 135; ii. Dobrizhoffer, 271; iii. _Mélusine_, 459; Featherman,
 _Chiapo-Mar._, 332, 344, 348, 355; xxiv. _Journ. Anthr. Inst._, 248,
 249, 253; of Peru, i. Garcilasso, 56; ii. 274; i. _Anthr. Rev._, 38;
 Brinton, _Amer. Race_, 290; Featherman, _Chiapo-Mar._, 423; of Guiana,
 Featherman, _ibid._, 221.

 There is a Gipsy tradition of a supernatural race of cannibals of this
 kind, where the habit may be a trait borrowed from some tribe with
 which they have actually come into contact in their wanderings. Von
 Wlislocki, _Volksgl. Zig._, 31.

 Let me add an observation here. Among many savage nations it is not
 usual to wait the convenience of the aged before dining off their
 bodies. They are slain for the purpose. Relics of the custom of
 putting the aged to death are still found in Europe. It is remarkable
 that in Scandinavia, as witnessed by Du Chaillu, the displacement of
 the old man in favour of his son takes place _at the table_. This,
 though not a funeral rite, points to cannibalism of the kind discussed
 in the text. Du Chaillu, i. _Midnight Sun_, 393. See also Gomme, in i.
 _Folklore_, 197; vii. _Rev. Trad. Pop._, 153, 287; xii. _Archivio_,
 504; i. _N. Ind. N. and Q._, 205.

 [284.1]
 Featherman, _Chiapo-Mar._, 31, 417. Mr. Featherman throws doubt on
 this latter instance, because it “is reported by a Jesuit missionary.”
 Surely this is carrying scepticism to an unwarranted length. The
 report of an objective fact like this by no means stands on the same
 footing as another, by apparently the same missionary, that “the
 Ucayali Indians believe in a creator of the universe,” to which he
 takes exception, probably with greater justice. In neither case is
 there, so far as I know, any reason to suspect that the missionary is
 intentionally misleading his readers.

 [285.1]
 iii. Bancroft, 414, citing various authorities; 297 _et seqq._,
 quoting Torquemada.

 [285.2]
 Winwood Reade, 160; Featherman, _Nigritians_, 260, 262; Du Chaillu,
 _Eq. Africa_, 84, 88.

 [286.1]
 Schneider, 135, apparently quoting the report of an English engineer,
 not named, from _Das Ausland_, 1888.

 [286.2]
 Featherman, _Oceano-Mel._, 243.

 [286.3]
 Featherman, _Chiapo-Mar._, 355.

 [286.4]
 Powers, 181.

 [287.1]
 Wallace, 346. See also Brinton, _Amer. Race_, 267; Müller, _Amer.
 Urrel._, 289; iii. _Trans. Ethn. Soc._, N.S., 158, 193.

 [287.2]
 i. Bancroft, 76.

 [287.3]
 Codrington, 221; x. _Journ. Anthr. Inst._, 285; F. Bonney, in xiii.
 _ibid._, 135; A. W. Howitt, in xvi. _ibid._, 30, 35. The Koniaga
 practice also perhaps has its basis in magic.

 [287.4]
 Featherman, _Papuo-Mel._, 74.

 [288.1]
 Garnett, ii. _Women_, 263.

 [288.2]
 Statements of Miss Garnett and the Rev. Dr. Gaster, cited iii.
 _Folklore_, 154.

 [288.3]
 Mr. W. R. Paton in a letter to me dated 17th June 1892. As to
 repetition of the Kólyva cakes, see Rodd, 126; Garnett, i. _Wom._,
 99. The times of the commemorative repetition _vary_ a little in
 different places. Compare with this the Sicilian custom of eating on
 the second of November (the festival of All Souls) sweetmeats
 impressed with images of skulls, bones, skeletons, souls in Purgatory
 and the like. This is called _eating the dead_. i. _Rivista_, 239. A
 similar custom at Perugia. _Ibid._, 322.

 [289.1]
 Plutarch, _Rom. Quest._, 65; Jevons, xci.; De Gubernatis, ii. _Myth.
 Plantes_, 134; Pliny, xviii. 30.

 [289.2]
 ii. Laisnel de la Salle, 83.

 [289.3]
 ii. _Rivista_, 65.

 [289.4]
 Ostermann, 489, 482.

 [290.1]
 C. Guerrieri, in i. _Rivista_, 314. A plateful is set aside for the
 dead, and afterwards eaten by one of the family.

 [290.2]
 Monseur, 41. My knowledge of the Welsh custom depends on the statement
 of a Radnorshire woman to my brother-in-law, the Rev. W. E. T. Morgan,
 Vicar of Llanigon. It perhaps requires confirmation.

 [290.3]
 O. Nemi, in i. _Rivista_, 959.

 [290.4]
 Garnett, ii. _Women_, 496.

 [290.5]
 Featherman, _Tur._, 205.

 [290.6]
 Codrington, 272.

 [290.7]
 Featherman, _Aram._, 621. In Barbary cooked food is distributed among
 the poor on the evening of the burial. This is called the supper of
 the grave. _Ibid._, 511.

 [291.1]
 Featherman, _Tur._, 540. To these we may perhaps add the Patagonian
 custom of killing the horses of the deceased and distributing their
 flesh among his relations. _Ibid._, _Chiapo-Mar._, 495.

 [291.2]
 Atkinson, 227; iii. _Arch. Cambr._, 4th ser., 332; _Gent. Mag. Lib._
 (Manners and Cust.), 70; ii. _Cymru Fu N. and Q._, 271, 275. See also
 ii. _Antigua_, 188, where “dyer bread” and “biscuit cakes” (species of
 pastry) are said to have been formerly handed round at Negro funerals
 on the island, enveloped in white paper and sealed with black wax.

 [292.1]
 iv. _Folklore_, 392.

 [293.1]
 iii. Pennant, 150.

 [293.2]
 Aubrey, _Remaines_, 23, 24.

 [294.1]
 Aubrey, _Remaines_, 35. Ellis reprints from Leland’s _Collectanea_ a
 letter from a Mr. Bagford, dated 1st Feb. 1714-15, giving a slightly
 varied account, also professedly derived from Aubrey, of the rite as
 practised in Shropshire. The fee is stated as a groat. ii. Brand, 155.

 [294.2]
 iii. _Arch. Cambr._, N.S., 330. Traces of a similar custom are found
 in Derbyshire. There no wine is drunk at a funeral until after the
 party has returned from the church. Wine is then offered first to the
 bearers. This order is strictly observed; and it is believed that
 “every drop that you drink is a sin which the deceased has committed.
 You thereby take away the dead man’s sins and bear them yourself.”
 Addy, 123, 124.

 [296.1]
 Burton, _Sindh_, 350, 354.

 [296.2]
 iii. _Mélusine_, 409, quoting M. Dubois’ work as cited in the
 _Annales de la Propagation de la Foi_ for 1830. Mr. Frazer cites this
 case (ii. _Golden Bough_, 155) and some others from India, all of
 which I believe are referable to the same origin, though he interprets
 them by reference to the idea expressed in the Mosaic Scapegoat. His
 attention probably had not been drawn to the parallel cases I cite
 above and below.

 [297.1]
 Dr. M. Hoefler, in ii. _Am Urquell_, 101. In an article on the
 Sin-eater in iii. _Folklore_, 150, I quoted Wilkie’s description of
 the Lowland Scottish rite called Dishaloof, and expressed the opinion
 that it belonged to the same order of thought as the rites now under
 discussion. Though I adhere to that opinion, I have not met with any
 thing which illustrates the mysterious details of the rite; and I
 have, therefore, thought it well to avoid burdening these pages with
 particulars that I cannot correlate. Mrs. Gomme has exhaustively
 analysed a children’s game called Green Grass, apparently connected
 with the Lowland rite; but the results attained do not help here. i.
 _Traditional Games_, 153. See Henderson, 53.

 [298.1]
 Quoted in ii. Brand, 153 note.

 [299.1]
 Denis H. Kelly, in i. _Journ. Kilkenny Arch. Soc._, N.S., 31 note.
 Smoking round the corpse was a part of the ceremony in North Wales in
 the last century. Owen, _Crosses_, 56.

 [299.2]
 Mr. W. R. Paton, in letters to me as before, and in letter dated 25th
 May 1894. Bread or money is distributed by the beadle at the gate of
 the cemetery on the island of Lesbos. Georgeakis, 321. In Sardinia
 grain or money is given to the poor who assist at the funeral mass. G.
 Calvia, in i. _Rivista_, 953.

 [299.3]
 Guhl and Koner, 594.

 [300.1]
 Possibly this is because no fire is lighted in the house of death, as
 in Calabria, where all food for this reason is provided by the
 relations and friends for a whole month, i. _Rivista_, 383.

 [300.2]
 i. De Nino, 130; Finamore, _Trad. Pop._, 94. In country-places of
 Sanseverino, when the relatives and neighbours have wept over the
 body, as soon as it is taken out of the house they sit down to table,
 talking the while of the virtues and defects of the dead. i.
 _Rivista_, 79.

 [301.1]
 Töppen, 95, 103.

 [302.1]
 ii. Laisnel de la Salle, 81, 82.

 [305.1]
 Featherman, _Turanians_, 520.

 [305.2]
 i. Hanway, 101.

 [305.3]
 Batchelor, 205.

 [306.1]
 i. De Groot, 115, 197, 227, 229; i. Doolittle, 180.

 [306.2]
 ii. Doolittle, _passim_.

 [306.3]
 F. Grabowsky, in ii. _Internat. Archiv_, 180; iii. _Journ. Ind.
 Arch._, 150.

 [306.4]
 Von Wlislocki, _Volksgl. Zig._, 99.

 [306.5]
 Sibree, 240, quoting Rev. R. T. Batchelor, in _Antananarivo Annual_.

 [307.1]
 Featherman, _Tur._, 108.

 [307.2]
 Codrington, 255, 259, 271, 284.

 [307.3]
 i. Macdonald, 111.

 [307.4]
 Featherman, _Nigr._, 375. Why the fowl should be spared if it refuse
 to eat I do not quite understand. Compare, however, similar divination
 in India. Crooke, 164; i. _N. Ind. N. and Q._, 33.

 [307.5]
 ii. _Rep. Austr. Ass._, 322.

 [308.1]
 Featherman, _Papuo-Mel._, 34.

 [308.2]
 Prof. Haddon, in xix. _Journ. Anthr. Inst._, 421.

 [309.1]
 F. Fawcett, in v. _Folklore_, 30.

 [309.2]
 Featherman, _Tur._, 506 note, quoting Fahne’s _Livland_; _ibid._, 459.
 The Koraiks of Siberia also kill and eat the reindeer which have drawn
 the body to the funeral pile, throwing the remains of the repast into
 the fire. Georgi, 99.

 [309.3]
 Featherman, _Chiapo-Mar._, 461.

 [309.4]
 vi. _Rep. Bur. Ethn._, 614, quoting Hall.

 [310.1]
 Tanner, 288, 293.

 [310.2]
 Featherman, _Tur._, 541.

 [310.3]
 Featherman, _Papuo-Mel._, 399.

 [310.4]
 Featherman, _Tur._, 230, 244.

 [310.5]
 Julian Ralph, in lxxxiv. _Harper’s Mag._, 176.

 [311.1]
 Ellis, _Yoruba_, 159.

 [311.2]
 Georgi, 92.

 [311.3]
 Featherman, _Tur._, 265.

 [311.4]
 Sir J. Lubbock, in iii. _Trans. Ethn. Soc._, N.S., 318; Canon
 Greenwell, in lii. _Archæologia, passim_.

 [311.5]
 Featherman, _Nigr._, 694.

 [311.6]
 Ellis, _Yoruba_, 158.

 [312.1]
 Marshall, 177, 185.

 [313.1]
 i. _Rep. Bur. Ethn._, 145, 200.

 [313.2]
 Featherman, _Oceano-Mel._, 406.

 [313.3]
 Featherman, _Nigr._, 291; Sibree, 241, quoting Guillain, _Documents
 sur la partie occid. de Madagascar_; Bourke, 263, quoting Smyth,
 _Aborig. of Victoria_; ii. _Rep. Austr. Ass._, 322; xxi. _Journ.
 Anthr. Inst._, 484, 356, 316; Fison and Howitt, 243.

 [314.1]
 Codrington, 268; iii. _L’Anthropologie_, 349, citing and reviewing Van
 Hoevell in the _Tijdschrift voor indische taal-land- en volkenkunde_;
 Modigliani, 281, citing Rosenberg and quoting Piepers.

 [314.2]
 Backhouse, 105.

 [314.3]
 Dr. Sims in _Anthropologia_, 213; i. Bancroft, 347; i. _Rep. Bur.
 Ethn._, 151.

 [314.4]
 Stevens, 373 note, citing _Bull. Amer. Ethnol. Soc._

 [314.5]
 i. Bancroft, 76.

 [315.1]
 A. Skrzyncki, in v. _Am Urquell_, 208.

 [315.2]
 F. Grabowsky, in ii. _Internat. Arch._, 199, citing several
 authorities.

 [315.3]
 i. Bancroft, 731, 744.

 [316.1]
 A. W. Howitt, in xiii. _Journ. Anthr. Inst._, 190.

 [316.2]
 Fison and Howitt, 244. Other Australian examples may be found in i.
 Curr, 89, 272; ii. 249, 476; iii. 22, 28, 65, 79, 147, 273; xxiv.
 _Journ. Anthr. Inst._, 182, 185, 195.

 [316.3]
 xxi. _Journ. Anthr. Inst._, 482, citing a Government despatch.

 [316.4]
 Mouat, 327.

 [316.5]
 Dawson, 65, 63.

 [316.6]
 Kane, 243; i. _Journ. Ethn. Soc._, 249; i. Bancroft, 126; i. _Rep.
 Bur. Ethn._, 145.

 [317.1]
 Mouat, 327; E. H. Man, in xii. _Journ. Anthr. Inst._, 86, 142, 401,
 402; Prof. Owen, in ii. _Trans. Ethn. Soc._, N.S., 37; E. Palmer, in
 xiii. _Journ. Anthr. Inst._, 298; Prof. Haddon, in v. _Folklore_, 320,
 citing _Annals de la Propag. de la Foi_; ix. _Rep. Bur. Ethn._, 485,
 citing Smyth; Dawson, 65; Featherman, _Papuo-Mel._, 157, 162; Roth,
 76; Backhouse, 84; ii. _Rep. Austr. Ass._, 605; Featherman,
 _Oceano-Mel._, 193. The widow of an Uraba preserved the hinder part of
 his skull; but did she wear it? i. Bancroft, 783. In the same way
 Speke, 500, leaves us in doubt whether the lower jaw of a chief of the
 Wahuma, and the finger-bones and hair of an officer of state, were
 worn by anybody. Probably the former was, as it was adorned with
 beads. M. Du Chatellier gives an account of a skull of the bronze age
 unearthed in Brittany, from which a considerable piece had been cut
 after death on the right side. E. Cartailhac, in v. _L’Anthropologie_,
 266, citing and reviewing an article by the learned Breton antiquary.
 This is not quite a singular case, and probably points to the
 antiquity of the practice under discussion.

 [317.2]
 Issedones, Herod. iv. 26. Krumen of the Grain Coast, W. Africa,
 Featherman, _Nigr._, 291. Andaman Islanders, ii. _Trans. Ethn. Soc._,
 N.S., 37. Dorah Papuans, Featherman, _Papuo-Mel._, 34. Islanders of
 New Britain and adjacent islands, Powell, 10, 165, 251. Torres Straits
 Islanders, Prof. Haddon, in xix. _Journ. Anthr. Inst._, 307, 405, 416,
 421, 422, and vi. _Internat. Arch._, 153, 159, 161; _Fur. Corresp._,
 April 1891, 198. Admiralty Islanders, xxi. _Journ. Anthr. Inst._, 5.
 Philippine Islanders, Featherman, _Papuo-Mel._, 475. Santa Cruz
 Islanders, Codrington, 264. Banks’ Islanders, _ibid._, 267. Solomon
 Islanders, _ibid._, 254, 257, 262. People of Ambrym, New Hebrides,
 _ibid._, 288 note. Loyalty Islanders, Turner, _Nineteen Years_, 400,
 463. New Caledonians, _ibid._, 425. Maories, Featherman,
 _Oceano-Mel._, 194. Gilbert Islanders, ii. _Internat. Arch._, 43.
 Tahitians, Ellis, i. _Pol. Res._, 401, 406, 270, 272. Sandwich
 Islanders, Ellis, iv. _ibid._, 359. Mosquito Indians, Featherman,
 _Chiapo-Mar._, 154. Caribs, _ibid._, 277; Sir R. Schomburgk, in i.
 _Journ. Ethn. Soc._, 276. Orinoco tribes, Featherman, _Chiapo-Mar._,
 301. Vancouver Islanders, Bogg, in iii. _Mem. Anthr. Soc._, 265.
 Congarees of South Carolina, i. _Rep. Bur. Ethn._, 132, citing
 Schoolcraft. Iroquois, _ibid._, 169, citing Morgan.

 [318.1]
 Herod. iii. 24; Strabo, xvii. 11, § 5; v. Wilkinson, 389; i. De
 Groot, 127; Codrington, 262, 268, 288 note; Ellis, _Yoruba_, 161.

 [318.2]
 i. Risley, 331; ii. 71; Dalton, in vi. _Trans. Ethn. Soc._, N.S., 37;
 Featherman, _Tur._, 42, 89.

 [318.3]
 Wissmann, 275.

 [318.4]
 Julian Ralph in lxxxiv. _Harper’s Mag._, 177.

 [319.1]
 iii. _Internat. Arch._, 70, citing Rubruk and Plan Carpin; iii.
 _Journ. Ethn. Soc._, 29; ix. _Rep. Bur. Ethn._, 485, citing Smyth,
 _Aborigines of Victoria_; i. Curr, 89, 272; xxiv. _Journ. Anthr.
 Inst._, 186.

 [319.2]
 C. J. Branch, in xxvi. _Contemp. Rev._, 761, 762. A few references
 follow, but many might be added. Featherman, _Nigr._, 345, 358;
 _Oceano-Mel._, 65, 306, 393; _Papuo-Mel._, 71, 157; _Chiapo-Mar._,
 277; i. _Rep. Bur. Ethn._, 108; i. Macdonald, 228; Ellis, iv. _Pol.
 Res._, 178; Codrington, 262; Speke, 500; vi. _Internat. Arch._, 129
 note, quoting Wilson, _A Missionary Voyage_; vii. _ibid._, 228 note;
 i. Doolittle, 175; Dr. J. Shortt, in vii. _Trans. Ethn. Soc._, N.S.,
 244; Turner, _Nineteen Years_, 338, 400, 425, 463. “In the island of
 Soa near Skye, it was customary when the head of a family died to have
 a large lock of hair cut off his head and nailed fast to the
 door-lintel, to keep off the fairies.” Mackenzie, 131. Was this the
 true reason? A handful of earth from the grave is prescribed, among
 the Negroes of South Carolina, to prevent being haunted by the spirit.
 vii. _Journ. Am. F.L._, 318. And the same in Tashkend to assuage
 grief. i. Schuyler, 151.

 [321.1]
 Deut. xiv. 1.

 [321.2]
 Wilken, _Haaropfer_, 19, citing _Tijdschr. v. h. Aardrijksk. Gen._,
 and _Tijdschr. v. Ind. T. L. en Vk_.

 [321.3]
 Andree, i. _Ethn. Par._, 148; Ellis, i. _Pol. Res._, 407, 410.

 [322.1]
 Featherman, _Papuo-Mel._, 155, 157; i. Curr, 272; ii. 179, 203, 249,
 346, 443; iii. 21, 29, 165, 549; xxiv. _Journ. Anthr. Inst._, 178,
 181, 185, 187, 195.

 [322.2]
 Featherman, _Chiapo-Mar._, 153.

 [322.3]
 Von den Steinen, 507.

 [322.4]
 Letourneau, _L’Év. Rel._, 187, citing the _Dix-neuvième Siècle_ for
 26th Dec. 1890.

 [323.1]
 i. _Rep. Bur. Ethn._, 190, 124, 100, 109, 112, 143, 159, 164, 183.

 [323.2]
 Wilken, _Haaropfer_, 19, citing Francis, _Herinneringen uit den
 levensloop van een Indisch Ambtenaar_.

 [323.3]
 Featherman, _Aram._, 620.

 [323.4]
 Powers, 181. The Greeks also scratched their faces until they bled, as
 a token of mourning. Robertson Smith, _Rel. Sem._, 304.

 [324.1]
 Andree, i. _Ethn. Par._, 150. Other instances of similar mutilation
 are given by Andree.

 [324.2]
 Tylor, ii. _Prim. Cult._, 364. The evolution of sacrifices from gifts
 upwards is treated by Dr. Tylor in the context.

 [326.1]
 Burton, _Sindh_, 281.

 [327.1]
 i. Crawfurd, 97.

 [327.2]
 Burton, _Sindh_, 281; Bellew, 226.

 [327.3]
 Dr. Daniell, in iv. _Journ. Ethn. Soc._, 19.

 [327.4]
 Brinton, _Lenâpe_, 54, 23.

 [328.1]
 Cyrus Thomas, _Ohio Mounds_, 11, 19, 22; i. _Rep. Bur. Ethn._, 127,
 169, 170.

 [328.2]
 Turner, _Nineteen Years_, 230.

 [328.3]
 Featherman, _Nigr._, 694.

 [328.4]
 Rodd, 127. Mr. Rodd goes on to notice “that MM. Pottier and Reinach in
 their work on The Necropolis of Myrina draw attention to the fact that
 in the course of their excavations they came upon a number of
 skeletons in which the skull was absent, while in certain cases both
 the skull and the feet were missing”; and they conclude that the
 graves in question “are those of strangers, and that the missing
 bones, like those of the Albanians of to-day, had been restored to the
 countries of their origin.” This may be so, though the absence of
 these bones may point to other customs, such as I have already
 discussed in this chapter. General Pitt-Rivers reported to the British
 Association at Oxford last year (1894) that he had also found bodies
 buried without the head at Cranborne Chase.

 [329.1]
 Cicero, _Leg._ ii. 24, 60.

 [329.2]
 i. _N. Ind. N. and Q._, 45, quoting ii. _Calcutta Review_, 419.

 [330.1]
 Hunter, _Rur. Bengal_, 153, 210; and the authors cited above, p. 318.***

 [330.2]
 i. _Journ. Anthr. Inst._, 131.

 [330.3]
 Featherman, _Tur._, 88.

 [330.4]
 i. Risley, 125.

 [331.1]
 _Daily News_, 20th Feb. 1892.

 [331.2]
 Burton, ii. _Gelele_, 78 note; Ellis, _Ewe_, 159; _Yoruba_, 163.

 [331.3]
 ii. _Internat. Arch._, 181.

 [332.1]
 i. _Journ. Anthr. Inst._, 183.

 [332.2]
 i. Gray, 295.

 [332.3]
 Rev. S. Ella, in iv. _Rep. Aust. Ass._, 641.

 CHAPTER XIV NOTES

 [335.1]
 Dalton, 160, 216, 252, 273, 317, 321; Risley, _passim_.

 [335.2]
 Hunter, _Rur. Bengal_, 188. No one reading the Indian evidence can be
 left in any uncertainty as to the meaning of the red lead. See Crooke,
 197, 294; _N. Ind. N. and Q._, _passim_.

 [336.1]
 i. Risley, 243; ii. 96, 222, 263. Cf. i. _N. Ind. N. and Q._, 152.

 [336.2]
 i. Doolittle, 67-105; i. Gray, 193-209.

 [336.3]
 Th. Volkov, in iii. _L’Anthropologie_, 541, 544, 545. A red cloth hung
 on a girl’s tent constitutes an offer of marriage among the
 Transylvanian Gipsies. Von Wlislocki, _Volksdicht._, 351.

 [336.4]
 Dalton, 220; i. Risley, 138.

 [336.5]
 i. Risley, 449, 450.

 [337.1]
 i. Risley, 456, citing Grierson’s _Behar Peasant Life_.

 [337.2]
 ii. Risley, 189.

 [337.3]
 i. Risley, 475.

 [337.4]
 _Ibid._ 532.

 [337.5]
 ii. Risley, 201.

 [338.1]
 i. Risley, 532.

 [339.1]
 Featherman, _Papuo-Mel._, 32.

 [339.2]
 _The Weekly Sun_, 28 Jan. 1893, quoting from Mr. Creagh’s notes of his
 visit contributed to a newspaper published in British North Borneo. I
 am indebted to Mr. Edward Clodd for calling my attention to this.
 Zipporah’s expression in Exodus iv. 25, 26, points to a similar
 ceremony among the early Hebrews. See Trumbull, 222.

 [340.1]
 Landes, _Contes Annam._, 207 (Story No. 84).

 [340.2]
 Codrington, 395 note.

 [341.1]
 H. F. Feilberg, in iii. _Am Urquell_, 3, citing Haukenaes.

 [342.1]
 Castrén, _Vorlesungen_, 323.

 [342.2]
 _Antè_, p. 247. In a Lapp story the hero, betrothed to the sun’s
 sister and separated from her, goes in search of her. When he finds
 her she is at the point of death from sorrow. He pricks her in the
 hand, and sucks her blood; whereupon she revives, and they are happily
 married. Poestion, 233. In Bret Harte’s story of _Sally Dows_, the
 heroine sucks the hero’s blood from a snake-wound, and is told by an
 old Negress that this has bound them together, so that she can marry
 nobody else. We cannot doubt that the author found this in Negro
 superstitions. Contrast, however, the effect of this incident with
 that of the Irish tale of _The Wooing of Emer_, already referred to,
 p. 255.***

 [342.3]
 De Mensignac, 21, quoting Arago’s _Voyage autour du Monde_. As to the
 use of red paint, meaning blood, by Australian natives, see decisive
 examples in ii. Curr, 36; xxiv. _Journ. Anthr. Inst._, 171.

 [343.1]
 Featherman, _Chiapo-Mar._, 267.

 [343.2]
 F. Fawcett, in v. _Folklore_, 24; ii. _Journ. Ind. Arch._, 358.

 [344.1]
 Dalton, 216.

 [344.2]
 Lewin, 129, 177.

 [345.1]
 iii. _Trans. Ethn. Soc._, N.S., 81.

 [345.2]
 xxx. _Sacred Bks._, 49.

 [345.3]
 Dr. Leitner, in v. _Asiatic Q. Rev._, 2d ser., 153.

 [345.4]
 Paulitschke, 248, citing Massaja.

 [345.5]
 Dorsey, _Cegiha Lang._, 342.

 [346.1]
 ii. _Rep. Austr. Ass._, 330.

 [346.2]
 ii. _Rep. Austr. Ass._, 314, 319; Featherman, _Papuo-Mel._, 32, 33.

 [346.3]
 Krauss, _Sitte und Brauch_, 275-6, 459.

 [346.4]
 A. G. Contis, in iv. _Mélusine_, 125.

 [346.5]
 Rodd, 105; Schroeder, 83.

 [346.6]
 ii. Witzschel, 235; Spiess, _Obererz._, 37.

 [346.7]
 Bérenger-Féraud, 195; Schroeder, 82, 235.

 [347.1]
 ii. Laisnel de la Salle, 46.

 [347.2]
 Monseur, 36.

 [347.3]
 vii. _Rev. Trad. Pop._, 682, citing _Manuel des Cérémonies_ (1494);
 Schroeder, 83.

 [347.4]
 Featherman, _Aram._, 62, 75.

 [348.1]
 Schroeder, 82; Pigorini-Beri, 14; Ralston, _Songs_, 269; vii.
 _Mélusine_, 4; viii. _Rev. Trad. Pop._, 542; iii. _Zeits. des
 Vereins_, 267; Krauss, _Sitte und Brauch_, 356, 386; Trumbull, 73;
 Kolbe, 171; Töppen, 81; ii. _Heimskringla_, 153.

 [349.1]
 Kolbe, 147; Winternitz, in _Congress_ (1891) _Report_, 281, quoting
 Romanoff, _Rites of the Greek Church_; _Odd Ways_, 82, 87, 102, 108.

 [349.2]
 See an account of an Armenian wedding in London, according to the
 rites of the Armenian National Church, _Daily News_, 28 Jan. 1892.

 [349.3]
 Bellew, 222.

 [349.4]
 Dalton, 193; i. Risley, 325. Among some allied tribes, when the bride
 is conducted to her husband’s dwelling she is seated on a pile of
 unhusked rice. Oil is then poured over her head, and she is presented
 with some boiled rice and meat cooked in her new home. This she simply
 touches with her hand, and declares herself to belong to her husband’s
 _kili_. Featherman, _Tur._, 60. The touching is doubtless the
 simplified equivalent of tasting, the simplification being accompanied
 by words explanatory of the intention of the rite. Compare the
 Abruzzian ceremony, ii. De Nino, 10.

 [350.1]
 ii. Risley, 8.

 [350.2]
 Lewin, 202.

 [350.3]
 G. Dumoutier, in viii. _Rev. Trad. Pop._, 405.

 [350.4]
 xxvii. _Sacred Bks._, 441; xxviii. 429.

 [350.5]
 i. Doolittle, 86.

 [350.6]
 Griffis, 249. This does not appear to be now, at all events, the
 operative part of the ceremony. Similar variations have affected the
 ceremony elsewhere.

 [351.1]
 vi. _Trans. Ethn. Soc._, N.S., 26; iii. _Journ. Ind. Arch._, 490; iv.
 431; iii. _L’Anthropologie_, 193; Trumbull, 192, 193; ii. Risley, 325.

 [351.2]
 iv. _Rev. Trad. Pop._, 362.

 [351.3]
 Schroeder, 235.

 [352.1]
 Th. Volkov, in ii. _L’Anthropologie_, 558.

 [352.2]
 A. de Lazarque, in ix. _Rev. Trad. Pop._, 580.

 [352.3]
 F. Pulci, in xiii. _Archivio_, 417.

 [353.1]
 Featherman, _Tur._, 88.

 [353.2]
 R. Parkinson, in ii. _Internat. Archiv._, 38.

 [354.1]
 Burton, _Sindh_, 345.

 [354.2]
 Featherman, _Tur._, 30; i. Risley, 497; Hodgson, 178. So among the
 Mussulman Malabars of Ceylon the bridegroom’s sister ties a
 consecrated cord around the bride’s neck. Featherman, _Tur._, 203.

 [354.3]
 Hunter, _Rur. Bengal_, 207.

 [354.4]
 ii. Risley, 69.

 [354.5]
 Lubbock, 84, citing Hale’s _United States Exploring Exped._ Compare
 the Kewat ceremony, i. Risley, 456.

 [355.1]
 Ellis, i. _Polyn. Res._, 272.

 [355.2]
 R. Parkinson, in ii. _Internat. Archiv_, 39; Hertz, 38 note, citing
 Abel Rémusat.

 [355.3]
 Dr. W. Svoboda, in v. _Internat. Arch._, 193, citing the Jesuit Barbe.

 [355.4]
 F. Fawcett, in v. _Folklore_, 23.

 [356.1]
 Featherman, _Tur._, 490.

 [356.2]
 O. Knoop, in iii. _Zeits. f. Volksk._, 230.

 [356.3]
 Du Chaillu, ii. _Midnight Sun_, 240.

 [356.4]
 Zingerle, _Sagen_, 457; Töppen, 76; A. Herrmann, in v. _Am Urquell_,
 110.

 [356.5]
 Schwela, in iii. _Zeits. f. Volksk._, 478.

 [356.6]
 Rogers, 112.

 [357.1]
 Gregor, 95.

 [357.2]
 ii. Laisnel de la Salle, 66, 50. At Nagialmagy, in Hungary, young
 married women assemble on Saint Joseph’s day and the day following, on
 the market-place and sell their kisses to all comers. ix. _Rev. Trad.
 Pop._, 359.

 [358.1]
 Filippo Seves, in xii. _Archivio_, 527.

 [358.2]
 Ostermann, 347; i. _Rivista_, 560.

 [358.3]
 Bérenger-Féraud, 200, 194. A species of bride-dance seems to be
 practised at Heideboden, in Hungary, and perhaps also in various
 places of Italy and Greece. De Gubernatis, _Usi Nuz._, 189.

 [358.4]
 Herod. iv. 172; Lubbock, 535, quoting Mela; Diodorus Sic. v. 1.

 [359.1]
 Fison and Howitt, 201-5. The punishment for a guilty wife among some
 of the North American tribes was similar to that of the Kurnai. See
 Featherman, _Aoneo-Mar._, 161. Cf. Robertson Smith, _Kinship_, 137.
 Other traces of the Nasamonian rite are to be found among the North
 American Indians. See, for example, a curious Ponka legend given by
 Dorsey, _Cegiha_, 616.

 [362.1]
 ii. Garcilasso, 442. Elsewhere (i. 59) he speaks of the participants
 as “the nearest relations of the bride and her most intimate friends.”
 He only refers vaguely to the peoples addicted to this form of the
 rite, and cites Pedro de Cieza as making the same assertion. I have
 not seen De Cieza’s work; but Mr. Markham observes that he refers to
 New Granada, not Peru. I am strongly inclined to suspect, on more
 grounds than one, that Garcilasso’s information is not to be relied
 on; and that, wherever the custom was followed, it was the
 bridegroom’s rather than the bride’s relations who took part. Did a
 somewhat similar custom obtain in Paraguay? See Featherman,
 _Chiapo-Mar._, 435. It is to be distinguished from a well-known East
 Indian custom which springs from a different motive. See Hertz, 41.

 [362.2]
 Mrs. French Sheldon, in xxi. _Journ. Anthrop. Inst._, 365. A relic of
 the same custom is found in Guatemala, where the marriage is
 consummated, not by the bridegroom, but by a kinsman, to whom the
 bride is brought by the bridegroom’s mother for the purpose. Stoll, 8.

 [363.1]
 Capt. J. S. King, in vi. _F.L. Journ._, 124.

 [363.2]
 Krauss, _Sitte und Brauch_, 382, 456, 608.

 [365.1]
 iv. _Rep. Austr. Ass._, 672. See Morgan, _Anc. Soc._, 424.

 [366.1]
 Featherman, _Aram._, 75.

 [366.2]
 Volkov, in ii. _L’Anthropologie_, 538, 539 note, quoting several
 authorities.

 [367.1]
 Macpherson, 133. Cf. the customs of other tribes, i. _N. Ind. N. and
 Q._, 124, 139, 177.

 [367.2]
 Marsden, 256.

 [367.3]
 Codrington, 238.

 [367.4]
 Casalis, 207; Featherman, _Nigr._, 642.

 [367.5]
 Featherman, _Chiapo-Mar._, 472, 459.

 [367.6]
 Stoll, 8. See note, _ante_, p. 362.***

 [368.1]
 i. Bancroft, 411.

 [370.1]
 See Lubbock, 131, 535; MacLennan, 341; Westermarck, 72. An exception
 must be made for the Babylonian and similar cases which do not appear
 referable to the exercise of communal marriage-rights.

 [371.1]
 i. Risley, 229.

 [371.2]
 i. Risley, 231. A similar distinction of guilt is drawn by the
 Dhánuks (i. _ibid._, 221), the Ghasiyas of South Mirzapur (i. _N.
 Ind. N. and Q._, 167), the Dusadhs (ii. _ibid._, 32), the Kharwars
 (ii. _ibid._, 34), the Bhuts, though nominally Mohammedan (ii.
 _ibid._, 50), and other tribes. So also in Ladák, iii. _N. Ind. N.
 and Q._, 168.

 [371.3]
 i. _N. Ind. N. and Q._, 168.

 [371.4]
 Featherman, _Drav._, 184.

 [372.1]
 Featherman, _Aoneo-Mar._, 590.

 [372.2]
 Herod. i. 216.

 [372.3]
 Forbes, in xiii. _Journ. Anthr. Inst._, 426; Trumbull, 54.

 [373.1]
 Robertson Smith, _Kinship_, 137.

 [373.2]
 Risley, _passim_. So also the Chukmas of the Chittagong Hills; Lewin,
 187. And the Chinese; i. Gray, 219.

 [373.3]
 Gen. xxxviii. 8; Deut. xxv. 5.

 [373.4]
 B. W. Schiffer, in v. _Am Urquell_, 224: Dalyell, 313, citing Leo of
 Modena.

 [374.1]
 _Sacred Bks._, xxv., 337, 361, 365; ii., 164.

 [374.2]
 Sibree, 246.

 [374.3]
 Casalis, 199.

 [375.1]
 Risley, _passim_; Dalton, 16, 63, 138, 273, 321.

 [375.2]
 Elliot, i. _N.-W. Prov._, 136. See also, _ibid._, 5, 121, 274, 326;
 _N. Ind. N. and Q._, _passim_.

 [375.3]
 ii. _N. Ind. N. and Q._, 24.

 [375.4]
 i. _Ibid._ 157.

 [376.1]
 i. _N. Ind. N. and Q._, 84.

 [376.2]
 Biddulph, 76, 82; iii. _N. Ind. N. and Q._, 168.

 [376.3]
 Fosberry, in i. _Journ. Ethn. Soc._, N.S., 189.

 [376.4]
 Featherman, _Drav._, 558, 244. See Marco Polo, li., as to another
 Tartar tribe.

 [376.5]
 Marsden, 220, 228. Cf. ii. _L’Anthropologie_, 257.

 [376.6]
 Modigliani, 553.

 [377.1]
 Modigliani, _Isola delle Donne_, 212, 215.

 [377.2]
 Parkinson, in ii. _Internat. Arch._, 39.

 [377.3]
 Man, in xii. _Journ. Anthr. Inst._, 139, 141.

 [377.4]
 Featherman, _Oceano-Mel._, 308.

 [377.5]
 Featherman, _Nigr._, 288, 290, 596, 762; Paulitschke, 205.

 [378.1]
 Ellis, _Yoruba_, 185.

 [378.2]
 Westermarck, 513, 514, quoting Shooter.

 [378.3]
 Featherman, _Aoneo-Mar._, 390. This liability is perhaps annexed to
 the inheritance; but it is certainly regarded as a liability rather
 than a right. _Rep. Nat. Mus._ (1888), 254.

 [378.4]
 Stoll, 7.

 [378.5]
 Featherman, _Aoneo-Mar._, 319.

 [378.6]
 Grinnell, _Blackfeet L.T._, 218; Dorsey, _Omaha Soc._, 258, 367.

 [379.1]
 i. _Rep. Bur. Ethn._, 184, 185.

 [379.2]
 Powers, 356.

 [379.3]
 Featherman, _Chiapo-Mar._, 100.

 [379.4]
 Turner, _Samoa_, 98; iv. _Rep. Austr. Ass._, 642.

 [379.5]
 Featherman, _Papuo-Mel._, 87.

 [379.6]
 iv. _Rep. Austr. Ass._, 628.

 [379.7]
 ii. _Rep. Austr. Ass._, 601.

 [379.8]
 Rev. B. Danks, in xviii. _Journ. Anthr. Inst._, 292.

 [379.9]
 Boas, in vi. _Rep. Bur. Ethn._, 615, quoting Lyon.

 [380.1]
 Dawson, 7, 27. See as to the natives of Northern Queensland, xiii.
 _Journ. Anthr. Inst._, 298; as to various tribes of South Australia
 and its northern territory, xxiv. _ibid._, 170, 178, 181, 194; as to
 other tribes, ii. Curr, 197, 425, 474; iii. 21, 546.

 [380.2]
 Garnett, ii. _Wom._, 234.

 [380.3]
 Saxo, 87; Elton’s version, 106; i. _Corp. Poet. Bor._, 105. These
 mythological cases as testimony to an obsolete custom of polyandry may
 be compared with similar references in ancient Hindu writings quoted
 by Westermarck, 457.

 [381.1]
 ii. _Rep. Austr. Ass._, 314, 320; vi. _Journ. Ind. Arch._, 319.

 [381.2]
 iii. _N. Ind. N. and Q._, 168.

 [381.3]
 i. Bancroft, 731.

 [381.4]
 Cooper, 153.

 [382.1]
 Grinnell, _Blackfeet L.T._, 217.

 [382.2]
 Featherman, _Aoneo-Mar._, 213, 175, 274, 308, 319; _Chiapo-Mar._, 268,
 16, 168; Brinton, _Amer. Race_, 96.

 [382.3]
 Dorsey, _Omaha Soc._, 261.

 [382.4]
 Fisher, in i. _Journ. Ethn. Soc._, N.S., 286. As to the Walla-Wallas,
 see Kane, 267, 270.

 [382.5]
 Brinton, _Amer. Race_, 48.

 [383.1]
 iv. _L’Anthropologie_, 641.

 [383.2]
 i. Risley, 6, 17, 32, 135, 170, 192, 268, 307, 416; ii., 65, 69, 96,
 186, 229, 293.

 [383.3]
 Shortt, in vii. _Trans. Ethn. Soc._, N.S., 240.

 [383.4]
 Featherman, _Tur._, 558.

 [383.5]
 xxv. _Sacred Bks._, 291.

 [383.6]
 Paulitschke, 204.

 [383.7]
 Chatelain, 119.

 [384.1]
 Lev. xviii. 18.

 [384.2]
 Featherman, _Oceano-Mel._, 297, 406.

 [384.3]
 Rev. S. Ella, in iv. _Rep. Austr. Ass._, 628.

 [384.4]
 ii. _Rep. Austr. Ass._, 331.

 [385.1]
 Volkov, in ii. _L’Anthropologie_, 568.

 [386.1]
 i. De Groot, 3; xxviii. _Sacred Bks._, 238, 264; xxvii. 442.

 [386.2]
 Robertson Smith, _Kinship_, 148, 176; cf. 66.

 [387.1]
 MacLennan, _Studies_, 103, citing Latham’s _Descriptive Ethnology_.

 [387.2]
 ii. _L’Anthropologie_, 117, quoting a communication by M. Crampe to
 the Société de Géographie. Cf. the customs of giving up a child or
 paying for him mentioned by Paulitschke, 202; xxiii. _Journ. Anthr.
 Inst._, 4.

 [389.1]
 i. Risley, 150.

 [389.2]
 Marsden, 225, 236, 262; Modigliani, _Batacchi_, 35.

 [390.1]
 Featherman, _Tur._, 63.

 [390.2]
 ii. Risley, 282.

 [390.3]
 iii. _Zeits. f. Volksk._, 391, 479.

 [390.4]
 xxvii. _Sac. Bks._, 77; xxviii., 299. In case of divorce, however, she
 returns to the parental home, ii. De Groot, 507.

 [391.1]
 ii. Risley, 80; App., 97.

 [391.2]
 i. _N. Ind. N. and Q._, 132.

 [391.3]
 Lev. xxi. 1-4; xxii. 10-13.

 [391.4]
 Aulus Gellius, xiii. 10.

 [393.1]
 Featherman, _Tur._, 107.

 [394.1]
 Featherman, _Tur._, 263.

 [394.2]
 _Ibid._, _Tur._, 283.

 [395.1]
 iii. _Zeits. f. Volksk._, 433.

 [395.2]
 Volkov, in ii. _L’Anthropologie_, 553.

 [396.1]
 Krauss, _Sitte und Brauch_, 278, 275, 277.

 [396.2]
 Codrington, 237.

 [396.3]
 Burton, _Sindh_, 272.

 [396.4]
 Smith, _Guinea_, 144.

 [397.1]
 ii. Kerr, 237.

 [397.2]
 Featherman, _Aram._, 422.

 [397.3]
 Hickson, 282.

 CHAPTER XV NOTES

 [401.1]
 On the Couvade generally the reader may consult Tylor, _Early Hist._,
 291; H. Ling Roth, in xxii. _Journ. Anthr. Inst._, 204; Ploss, i.
 _Kind_, 143; Von Dargun, 18; and the correspondence in _The Academy_
 for 29th Oct., 5th, 12th, 19th Nov., 10th, 17th Dec. 1892.

 [404.1]
 Modigliani, 555; Ploss, i. _Kind_, 36.

 [404.2]
 Codrington, 228.

 [405.1]
 Von den Steinen, 334, 338, 503, 434.

 [406.1]
 Addy, 91. Compare the tale, cited _suprà_, p. 11, of the mother whose
 digging-stick broke when her child was taken away. In a Chinese tale a
 grown-up son feels pain when his mother bites her finger. i.
 Doolittle, 454.***

 [407.1]
 Tylor, _Early Hist._, 292, quoting Du Tertre.

 [408.1]
 Featherman, _Papuo-Mel._, 64.

 [411.1]
 Grimm, _Teut. Myth._, 1845.

 [411.2]
 Temme, _Altmark_, 87, 78.

 [411.3]
 ii. _Am Urquell_, 123.

 [411.4]
 De Zmidgrodzki, in vi. _Rev. Trad. Pop._, 40; Temme, _Altmark_, 88.

 [411.5]
 i. Kohlrusch, 340.

 [411.6]
 Temme, _Altmark_, 74.

 [411.7]
 Schiffer, in iv. _Am Urquell_, 170.

 [412.1]
 Tylor, _Early Hist._, 304, citing Wuttke.

 [412.2]
 Grimm, _Teut. Myth._, 1796; ii. Witzschel, 249. Other German examples
 will be found in Grimm, _Teut. Myth._, 1779, 1786, 1799, 1845; Temme,
 _Altmark_, 74, 88; ii. Witzschel, 244, 250; Ploss, i. _Kind_, 213,
 216; Von Wlislocki, _Siebenb. Sachs._, 152; Hillner, 38; vi. _Am
 Urquell_, 93; Spiess, _Obererz._, 36.

 [412.3]
 ii. _Am Urquell_, 198.

 [413.1]
 Ploss, i. _Kind_, 216.

 [413.2]
 Knoop, _Posen_, 116.

 [413.3]
 Kaindl, 6.

 [413.4]
 Marchesa di Villamarina, in i. _Rivista_, 72.

 [414.1]
 Bérenger-Féraud, 171; i. Strackerjan, 48; vi. _Am Urquell_, 93; ii.
 _Bull. de F.L._, 151.

 [414.2]
 ii. Laisnel de la Salle, 9.

 [414.3]
 Julie Filippi, in ix. _Rev. Trad. Pop._, 465.

 [414.4]
 Ostermann, 381.

 [414.5]
 viii. _Journ. Am. F.L._, 22.

 [414.6]
 ii. _Bull. de F.L._, 152.

 [414.7]
 Lady Vere de Vere, in i. _Rivista_, 447.

 [415.1]
 Ostermann, 381; i. _Rivista_, 635; ii. 45.

 [415.2]
 Von Wlislocki, in iii. _Am Urquell_, 93.

 [416.1]
 Dr. Krauss, in vii. _Internat. Archiv_, 168, 188, 191, 193, 196. See
 also Wilken, ii. _Haaropfer_, 68, quoting Grimm.

 [417.1]
 Kaindl, 25, 40.

 [417.2]
 Pigorini-Beri, 287.

 [418.1]
 ii. Laisnel de la Salle, 9.

 [419.1]
 Diod. Sic., iv. The Roman form seems to have been similar; Lubbock,
 96, citing Müller, _Das Mutterrecht_.

 [420.1]
 Krauss, _Sitte und Brauch_, 600, quoting Jukic; 599.

 [420.2]
 ii. Laisnel de la Salle, 13, 39; Kolbe, 176.

 [420.3]
 Brayley, 36. A Swedish superstition requires a mother of a child
 begotten before marriage, herself to hold the child at the font,
 otherwise it will not be legitimate. Grimm, _Teut. Myth._, 1830,
 quoting Fernow’s _Beskrifning öfver Wärmeland_.

 [421.1]
 A. Weidemann, in iii. _Am Urquell_, 259.

 [421.2]
 Girald. Cambr., _Topog._ xxiii.; Saxo, 82, 200; Elton’s version, 99,
 245.

 [421.3]
 Paulitschke, 193, citing Abbadie, _Géog. de l’Ethiopie_.

 [421.4]
 Lubbock, 97, quoting Parkyn.

 [421.5]
 Hearn, 105.

 [421.6]
 xxv. _Sac. Bks._ 352.

 [422.1]
 As to adoption generally, in addition to the citations above, see,
 among others, Paulitschke, 209; Robertson Smith, _Kinship_, 44, 149;
 Aulus Gellius, v. 19; Hunter, _Captivity_, 19, 35, 249; ii. Domenech,
 324, 350; Featherman, _Aoneo-Mar._, 184, 310, 320; _Chiapo-Mar._, 274;
 Codrington, 42; Marsden, 229; vi. _Rep. Bur. Ethn._, 580; ix., 419; i.
 Crantz, 165; i. _N. Ind. N. and Q._, 152, 204; D’Arbois, i. _Droit
 Celt._, 251; Kaindl, 26. Biddulph, 82, describes fosterage in the
 Hindoo Koosh. Mr. Parkinson, in ii. _Internat. Arch._, 33, speaks of
 adoptive parents and children in the Kingsmill Islands. Adoption,
 however, seems there rather of the nature of sponsorship. It creates
 rights and duties, but does not involve detachment from the family of
 birth. A similar custom appears elsewhere in Polynesia.

 [424.1]
 Ramage, 241. Mr. Ramage’s journey took place in 1828, and the incident
 referred to occurred at some previous date not indicated. May we hope
 the Italian peasant knows better by this time?

 [425.1]
 Strack, 86, citing _The Book of the Pious_.

 [425.2]
 L. F. Sauvé, in ii. _Mélusine_, 254; Le Braz, 231; A. de Cock, in x.
 _Rev. Trad. Pop._, 249.

 [425.3]
 Callaway, _Tales_, 284.

 [426.1]
 _Daily News_, 14th July 1894.

 [427.1]
 Ellis, _Ewe-speaking Peoples_, 208; _Yoruba_, 176, 300.

 [429.1]
 Dalton, 64.

 [429.2]
 ii. Binger, 260; Ellis, _Yoruba_, 299.

 [429.3]
 Fison and Howitt, 157 note.

 [430.1]
 i. _N. Ind. N. and Q._, 82.

 [430.2]
 The provisions of the Irish laws are carefully analysed, D’Arbois, i.
 _Droit Celt_.

 [430.3]
 Professor Kovalevsky, in the interesting paper mentioned _ante_, p.
 230 note, which he read to the British Association at Oxford last
 year, gave some account of the _Lex Barbarorum_ of Daghestan, a code
 written down in the last century, but embodying the ancient customs of
 the Chevsurs, Pschavs and Touchains of Daghestan, who speak a dialect
 of Georgian. The population is organised in _gentes_, called
 _touchoum_; and every _touchoum_ incurs joint responsibility for the
 acts of its members. “Consanguinity,” says the professor, “to the
 remotest degree makes a man jointly responsible.… In case of murder or
 wounding, not only the trespasser but each one of the members of his
 _touchoum_, or gens, has to expect vengeance on the part of the
 _touchoum_ to which the victim belonged. The same mutual
 responsibility exists in the case of forcible entry.” It is noteworthy
 that each _touchoum_ claims descent from some mythical ancestor.***

 [431.1]
 Bartels, 205, quoting some writer I have not traced. The want of exact
 references is too frequently a serious blot on German scholarship. Dr.
 Bartels is shamefully guilty in this respect.

 [432.1]
 Dyer, 171, quoting a paper by Mr. Chanter in ii. _Report and
 Transactions of the Devonshire Association_ (1867), 39.

 [432.2]
 Prof. Mikhailovskii, in xxiv. _Journ. Anthr. Inst._, 126.

 [432.3]
 Featherman, _Nigr._, 134, citing _A Walk across Africa_, by J. A.
 Grant (1803).

 [433.1]
 v. _Rep. Bur. Ethn._, 426.

 [433.2]
 vii. _Rep. Bur. Ethn._, 338, 350, 346.

 [434.1]
 ii. _Sax. Leechd._, 136.

 [434.2]
 Featherman, _Drav._, 246; _Chiapo-Mar._, 464; _Papuo-Mel._, 502;
 _Nigr._, 36, 750; xxiv. _Journ. Anthr. Inst._, 66.

 [435.1]
 Richardson, _The Folly of Pilgrimages_, 70.

 [435.2]
 i. Doolittle, 149. In Sardinia it is a common remedy, not merely in
 cases of bite by the famous spider, but for other diseases also, to
 bury the sick man up to his neck in earth, and to cause seven maidens,
 seven wives or seven widows, according as he is a bachelor, a married
 man or a widower, to dance round him. F. Valla, in xiv. _Archivio_,
 40, 49. This seems referable to the same order of ideas.

 [435.3]
 _Suprà_, p. 94; i. _N. Ind. N. and Q._, 6.***

 [436.1]
 E. Regàlia, in xiii. _Archivio_, 489.

 [436.2]
 ii. De Groot, 507, 621.

 [436.3]
 Andree, ii. _Ethnog. Par._, 11, citing Wuttke.

 [437.1]
 Landor, 225, 227. See Batchelor, 211, as to other Ainu tribes.

 [437.2]
 Anthony Jully, in v. _L’Anthropologie_, 400.

 [437.3]
 Julian Ralph, in lxxxiv. _Harper’s New Monthly Mag._, 177.

 [437.4]
 Featherman, _Papuo-Mel._, 179.

 [437.5]
 Codrington, 269.

 [437.6]
 Du Chaillu, _Eq. Afr._, 18.

 [438.1]
 i. De Groot, 90, 93, 64, 89.

 [439.1]
 ii. De Groot, 441; ii. Gray, 25, 305.

 [439.2]
 iv. _Internat. Arch._, 9. The Hawaiian practice of flinging the dead
 into a volcano or into the sea perhaps belongs to the class of
 superstitions dealt with in the above paragraph. Ellis, _Hawaii_, 336.

 [439.3]
 Taylor, 208.

 [444.1]
 Fison and Howitt, 170.

 PRESS NOTICES

‘An interesting study in comparative mythology. The old school of
interpreters explained the presence of irrational and repulsive
elements in classic legend as due to loss of the primitive purer
meaning of the names of the high-dwelling gods. But that has given
place to a more rational method. This explains the presence of the
gross and barbaric as actual survivals of beliefs and customs from the
rude myth-making stage out of which the higher races slowly emerged.
Truly, a more excellent way.’--_Daily Chronicle_.

‘A most scholarly and fascinating book. Those who have not followed
the progress of similar investigations will be startled by its
suggestiveness.’--_The Nation_.

‘Folklore, treated as it is in the scientific method employed in the
present work, is raised at once to a high level of importance, and is
full of possibilities in the near future. It is a new science, but it
is one which is already being elevated to a high standard of scholarly
excellence by the publication of such works as the one before us. We
shall await the appearance of the second volume of Mr. Hartland’s work
with much interest, when we shall hope to deal with the subject
thoroughly as a whole.’--_Antiquary_.

‘There will be agreement as to the skill with which he has
disentangled a mass of valuable material and produced it in lively
form.’--_The Academy_.

‘His book is one that no one interested in the early history of
religion, in folklore, or in anthropology can safely
neglect.’--_Manchester Guardian_.

‘The latter half of the book, which deals with the subject of
parthenogenesis and miraculous births generally throughout all
literature, is especially interesting, and makes one look forward to
the second volume.’--_Pall Mall Gazette_.

‘Mr. E. S. Hartland has placed himself on the trail of this venerable
and widespread tradition, and he follows it up with the scent of a
sleuth-hound, or of a born folklorist.’--_Scotsman_.

‘Mr. Frazer’s great book, “The Golden Bough,” began a new epoch in the
modern treatment of mythology. It showed us how to apply the
comparative method to the folklore and religious tales of all
countries and ages, with surprising results. Mr. Hartland is one of
our most learned and competent workers in this novel field, and he
ably follows Mr. Frazer’s footsteps.… Our author shows, with a
marvellous array of instances, that supernatural birth is almost
invariably claimed as a necessary attribute of the central figure in
early myths: and he examines minutely the various methods in which the
marvel takes place, the miraculous conception in a virgin being
diversely caused by numberless more or less tangible antecedents, from
something half-magical eaten or drunk to a shower of gold or a ray of
sunlight.’--_Westminster Gazette_.

‘Crammed with good reading that is eminently
thought-producing.’--_Speaker_.

 ERRATA

[_Copied from volume III in the series_]

p. 147, note, after _letter xxviii._ insert _to Daines Barrington_

p. 271, note 4, for 68 read 57.

 TRANSCRIBER’S NOTES

The title page is used as a cover.

Chapter numbering continues from the previous volume.

Page numbers are given in {curly} brackets. Endnote markers are
given in [square] brackets in the plain text version.

Minor spelling inconsistencies (_e.g._ anthill/ant-hill,
conjurer/conjuror, drinking-cup/drinking cup, etc.) have been
preserved.

Alterations to the text:

Convert footnotes to endnotes. Relabel note markers: append the
original note number to the page number.

Create errata page and copy corrigenda from volume III. Apply errata.

Add endnotes, press notices, and errata entries to TOC.

[Chapter VIII]

Change “interpretation of none of these presents any _diffculty_” to
_difficulty_.

[Chapter XII]

“and _whereever_ a society has passed beyond the nomadic stage” to
_wherever_.

[Chapter XIV]

(entered his sept, and is truly his wife.” Among the) delete quotation
mark.

[Endnotes]

A few trivial punctuation and italics corrections.

(p. 290, note 2) “the Welsh custom depends on _he_ statement of a” to
_the_.

 [End of text]


accompanied his niece, travelling all night, until they arrived at
Exeter.

In the mean time, Mrs Austin had remained in a state of great distress;
her husband lay dead; she believed that he had confessed his guilt, but
to what extent she did not know, for neither she nor Mary had heard what
passed between him and the magistrate.  She had no one but Mary to
confide in or to console, no one to advise with or to consult.  She
thought of sending for the magistrate, but it would appear indecorous,
and she was all anxiety and doubt.  The letter from McShane, which
arrived the next afternoon, relieved her at once; she felt that her boy
was safe.

"Mary, dear, read this; he is safe," exclaimed she.  "God of heaven,
accept a mother's grateful tears."

"Cannot you spare me, madam?" replied Mary, returning the letter.

"Spare you.  Oh, yes! quick, Mary, lose not a moment; go to him, and
take this letter with you.  My dear, dear child."  Mary did not wait a
second command; she sent for post-horses, and in half an hour was on her
way to Exeter; travelling with as much speed as Emma and her uncle, she
arrived there but a few hours after them.

Our hero had been anxiously awaiting for Mary's daily communication; the
post time had passed, and it had not arrived.  Pale and haggard from
long confinement and distress of mind, he was pacing up and down, when
the bolts were turned, and Emma, supported by her uncle, entered the
cell.  At the sight of her, our hero uttered a cry, and staggered
against the wall; he appeared to have lost his usual self-control.
"Oh," said he, "this might have been spared me; I have not deserved this
punishment.  Emma, hear me.  As I hope for future happiness I am
innocent; I am--I am, indeed--" and he fell senseless on the pavement.

Mr Small raised him up and put him on the bed; after a time he revived,
and remained where he had been laid, sobbing convulsively.

As soon as he became more composed, Emma, who had been sitting by him,
the tears coursing each other down her pale cheeks, addressed him in a
calm voice.

"I feel--I am sure that you are innocent, or I should not have been
here."

"Bless you for that, Emma, bless you; those few words of yours have
given me more consolation than you can imagine.  Is it nothing to be
treated as a felon, to be disgraced, to be banished to a distant
country, and that at the very time that I was full of happiness,
prosperous, and anticipating?--but I cannot dwell upon that.  Is it not
hard to bear, Emma? and what could support me, but the consciousness of
my own innocence, and the assurance that she whom I love so, and whom I
now lose for ever, still believes me so?  Yes, it is a balm; a
consolation; and I will now submit to the will of Heaven."

Emma burst into tears, leaning her face on our hero's shoulder.  After a
time she replied, "And am I not to be pitied?  Is it nothing to love
tenderly, devotedly, madly--to have given my heart, my whole thoughts,
my existence to one object--why should I conceal it now?--to have been
dwelling upon visions of futurity so pleasing, so delightful, all
passing away as a dream, and leaving a sad reality like this?  Make me
one promise; you will not refuse Emma--who knelt by your side when you
first met her, she who is kneeling before you now?"

"I dare not, Emma, for my heart tells me that you would propose a step
which must not be--you must leave me now, and for ever."

"For ever! for ever!" cried Emma springing on her feet.  "No! no! uncle,
he says I am to leave him for ever?  Who is that?" continued the frantic
girl.  "Mary! yes 'tis!  Mary, he says I must leave him for ever!"  (It
was Mary who had just come into the cell.) "Must I, Mary?"

"No--no!" replied Mary, "not so! he is saved, and his innocence is
established; he is yours for ever!"

We shall not attempt to describe the scene we could not do justice to.
We must allow the day to pass away; during which Emma and our hero,
McShane and Mary, were sitting together; tears of misery wiped away--
tears of joy still flowing and glistening with the radiance of
intermingled smiles.

The next morning McShane and O'Donahue arrived, the Secretary of State
had given immediate orders for our hero's release, and they had brought
the document with them.

The following day they were all _en route_, Emma and her uncle to
Portsmouth, where they anxiously awaited the arrival of our hero as soon
as he had performed his duty to his parents.

We must allow the reader to suppose the joy of Mrs Austin in once more
holding her child in her embrace, and the smiles and happiness of Mary
at his triumphant acquittal; the wondering of the domestics, the scandal
and rumour of the neighbourhood.  Three days sufficed to make all known,
and by that time Joey was looked upon as the hero of a novel.  On the
fourth day he accompanied the remains of his father as chief mourner.
The funeral was quiet without being mean; there was no attendance, no
carriages of the neighbouring gentry followed.  Our hero was quite alone
and unsupported; but when the ceremony was over, the want of respect
shown to the memory of his father was more than atoned for by the
kindness and consideration shown towards the son, who was warmly, yet
delicately, welcomed as the future proprietor of the Hall.

Three months passed away, and there was a great crowd before the house
of Mr Small, navy agent at Portsmouth.  There was a large company
assembled, the O'Donahues, the McShanes, the Spikemans, and many others.
Mrs Austin was there, looking ten years younger; and Mary was
attending her at the toilet, both of them half smiles, half tears, for
it was the morning of our hero's wedding-day.  Mr Small strutted about
in white smalls, and Mr Sleek spluttered over everybody.  The
procession went to the church, and soon after the ceremony, one couple
of the party set off for the Hall; where the others went is of no
consequence.

We have now wound up the history of little Joey Rushbrook, the poacher.
We have only to add, that the character of our hero was not the worse as
he grew older, and was the father of a family.  The Hall was celebrated
for hospitality, for the amiability of its possessors, and the art which
they possessed of making other people happy.  Mary remained with them
more as a confidante than as a servant; indeed, she had so much money,
that she received several offers of marriage, which she invariably
refused, observing, with the true humbleness of a contrite heart, that
she was undeserving of any honest, good man.  Everybody else, even those
who knew her history, thought otherwise; but Mary continued firm in her
resolution.  As for all the rest of the personages introduced into these
pages, they passed through life with an average portion of happiness,
which is all that can be expected.

In conclusion, we have only one remark to make.  In this story we have
shown how a young lad, who commenced his career with poaching,
ultimately became a gentleman of 7,000 pounds a year; but we must remind
our youthful readers, that it does not follow that every one who
commences with poaching is to have the same good fortune.  We advise
them, therefore, not to attempt it, as they may find that instead of
7,000 pounds a year, they may stand a chance of going to where our hero
very narrowly escaped from being sent; that is, to a certain portion of
her Majesty's dominions beyond the seas, latterly termed Australia, but
more generally known by the appellation of Botany Bay.

CHAPTER FIFTY ONE.

A RENCONTRE.

A SHORT STORY.

One evening I was sitting alone in the _salle a manger_ of the _Couronne
d'Or_, at Boulogne, when Colonel G---, an old acquaintance, came in.
After the first greeting, he took a chair, and was soon as busily
occupied as I was with a cigar, which was occasionally removed from our
lips, as we asked and replied to questions as to what had been our
pursuits subsequently to our last rencontre.  After about half an hour's
chit-chat, he observed, as he lighted a fresh cigar--

"When I was last in this room, I was in company with a very strange
personage."

"Male or female?" inquired I.

"Female," replied Colonel G---.  "Altogether it's a story worth telling,
and, as it will pass away the time, I will relate it to you--unless you
wish to retire."

As I satisfied him that I was not anxious to go to bed, and very anxious
to hear his story, he narrated it, as nearly as I can recollect, in the
following words:--

"I had taken my place in the diligence from Paris, and when I arrived at
_Notre Dame des Victoires_ it was all ready for a start; the luggage,
piled up as high as an English haystack, had been covered over and
buckled down, and the _conducteur_ was calling out for the passengers.
I took my last hasty whiff of my cigar, and unwillingly threw away more
than half of a really good Havannah; for I perceived that in the
_interieur_, for which I had booked myself, there was one female already
seated: and women and cigars are such great luxuries in their respective
ways, that they are not to be indulged in at one and the same time--the
world would be too happy, and happiness, we are told, is not for us here
below.  Not that I agree with that moral, although it comes from very
high authority; there is a great deal of happiness in this world, if you
knew how to extract it,--or, rather, I should say, of pleasure; there is
a pleasure in doing good; there is a pleasure, unfortunately, in doing
wrong; there is a pleasure in looking forward, ay, and in looking
backward also; there is pleasure in loving and being loved, in eating,
and drinking, and, though last, not least, in smoking.  I do not mean to
say that there are not the drawbacks of pain, regret, and even remorse;
but there is a sort of pleasure even in them; it is pleasant to repent,
because you know that you are doing your duty; and if there is no great
pleasure in pain, it precedes an excess when it has left you.  I say
again that, if you know how to extract it, there is a great deal of
pleasure and of happiness in this world, especially if you have, as I
have, a very bad memory.

"`_Allons, messieurs_!' said the _conducteur_; and when I got in I found
myself the sixth person, and opposite to the lady: for all the other
passengers were of my own sex.  Having fixed our hats up to the roof,
wriggled and twisted a little so as to get rid of coat-tails, etcetera,
all of which was effected previously to our having cleared _Rue Notre
Dame des Victoires_, we began to scrutinise each other.  Our female
companion's veil was down and doubled so that I could not well make her
out; my other four companions were young men--all Frenchmen,--apparently
good-tempered, and inclined to be agreeable.  A few seconds were
sufficient for my reconnoitre of the gentlemen, and then my eyes were
naturally turned towards the lady.  She was muffled up in a winter
cloak, so that her figure was not to be made out; and the veil still
fell down before her face, so that only one cheek and a portion of her
chin could be deciphered: that fragment of her physiognomy was very
pretty, and I watched in silence for the removal of the veil.

"I have omitted to state that, before I got into the diligence, I saw
her take a very tender adieu of a very handsome woman; but, as her back
was turned to me at the time, I did not see her face.  She had now
fallen back in her seat, and seemed disposed to commune with her own
thoughts: that did not suit my views, which were to have a view of her
face.  Real politeness would have induced me to leave her to herself,
but pretended politeness was resorted to that I might gratify my
curiosity; so I inquired if she wished the window up.  The answer was in
the negative, and in a very sweet voice; and then there was a pause, of
course so I tried again.

"`You are melancholy at parting with your handsome sister,' observed I,
leaning forward with as much appearance of interest as I could put into
my beautiful phiz.

"`How could you have presumed that she was my sister?' replied she.

"`From the _strong family_ likeness,' replied I.  `I felt certain of
it.'

"`But she is only my sister-in-law, sir,--my brother's wife.'

"`Then, I presume, he chose a wife as like his sister as he could find;
nothing more natural--I should have done the same.'

"`Sir, you are very polite,' replied the lady, who lowered down the
window, adding, `I like fresh air.'

"`Perhaps you will find yourself less incommoded if you take off your
veil?'

"`I will not ascribe that proposition to curiosity on your part, sir,'
replied the lady, `as you have already seen my face.'

"`You cannot, then, be surprised at my wishing to see it once more.'

"`You are very polite, sir.'

"Although her voice was soft, there was a certain quickness and decision
in her manner and language which were very remarkable.  The other
passengers now addressed her, and the conversation became general.  The
veiled lady took her share in it, and showed a great deal of smartness
and repartee.  In an hour more we were all very intimate.  As we changed
horses, I took down my hat to put into it my cigar-case, which I had
left in my pocket, upon which the lady observed, `You smoke, I perceive;
and so, I dare say, do all the rest of the gentlemen.  Now, do not mind
me; I am fond of the smell of tobacco--I am used to it.'

"We hesitated.

"`Nay, more, I smoke myself, and will take a cigar with you.'

"This was decisive.  I offered my cigar-case--another gentleman struck a
light.  Lifting up her veil so as to show a very pretty mouth, with
teeth as white as snow, she put the cigar in her mouth, and set us the
example.  In a minute both windows were down, every one had a cigar in
his mouth.

"`Where did you learn to smoke, madam?' was a question put to the
incognita by the passenger who sat next to her.

"`Where?--In the camp--Africa--everywhere.  I did belong to the army--
that is, my husband was the captain of the 47th.  He was killed, poor
man! in the last successful expedition to Constantine:--_c'etait un
brave homme_.'

"`Indeed!  Were you at Constantine?'

"`Yes, I was; I followed the army during the whole Campaign.'

"The diligence stopped for supper or dinner, whichever it might be
considered, and the _conducteur_ threw open the doors.  `Now,' thought
I, `we shall see her face;' and so, I believe, thought the other
passengers; but we were mistaken; the lady went upstairs and had a basin
of soup taken to her.  When all was ready we found her in the diligence,
with her veil down as before.

"This was very provoking, for she was so lively and witty in
conversation, and the features of her face which had been disclosed were
so perfect, that I was really quite on a fret that she would leave me
without satisfying my curiosity:--they talk of woman's curiosity, but we
men have as much, after all.  It became dark;--the lady evidently
avoided further conversation, and we all composed ourselves as well as
we could.  It may be as well to state in few words, that the next
morning she was as cautious and reserved as ever.  The diligence arrived
at this hotel--the passengers separated--and I found that the lady and I
were the only two who took up our quarters there.  At all events, the
Frenchmen who travelled with us went away just as wise as they came.

"`You remain here?' inquired I, as soon as we had got out of the
diligence.

"`Yes,' replied she.  `And you--'

"`I remain here, certainly; but I hope you do not intend to remain
always veiled.  It is too cruel of you.'

"`I must go to my room now, and make myself a little more comfortable;
after that, Monsieur l'Anglais, I will speak to you.  You are going over
in the packet, I presume?'

"`I am, by to-morrow's packet.'

"`I shall put myself under your protection, for I am also going to
London.'

"`I shall be most delighted.'

"`_Au revoir_.'

"About an hour afterwards a message was brought to me by the _garcon_,
that the lady would be happy to receive me at Number 19.  I ascended to
the second floor, knocked, and was told to come in.

"She was now without a veil; and what do you think was her reason for
the concealment of her person?"

"By the beard of Mokhanna, how can I tell?"

"Well, then, she had two of the most beautiful eyes in the world; her
eyebrows were finely arched; her forehead was splendid; her mouth was
tempting,--in short, she was as pretty as you could wish a woman to be,
only she had _broken her nose_,--a thousand pities, for it must once
have been a very handsome one.  Well, to continue, I made my bow.

"`You perceive now, sir,' said she, `why I wore my veil down.'

"`No, indeed,' replied I.

"`You are very polite, or very blind,' rejoined she; `the _latter_ I
believe not to be the fact.  I did not choose to submit to the
impertinence of my own countrymen in the diligence; they would have
asked me a hundred questions upon my accident.  But you are an
Englishman, and have respect for a female who has been unfortunate.'

"`I trust I deserve your good opinion, madam; and if I can be in any way
useful to you--'

"`You can.  I shall be a stranger in England.  I know that in London
there is a great man, one Monsieur Lis-tong, who is very clever.'

"`Very true, madam.  If your nose instead of having been slightly
injured as it is, had been left behind you in Africa, Mr Liston would
have found you another.'

"`If he will only repair the old one, I ask no more.  You give me hopes.
But the bones are crushed completely, as you must see.'

"`That is of no consequence.  Mr Liston has put a new eye in, to my
knowledge.  The party was short-sighted, and saw better with the one put
in by Mr Liston than with the one which had been left him.'

"`_Est-il possible?  Mais, quel homme extraordinaire_!  Perhaps you will
do me the favour to sit with me, monsieur; and, if I mistake not, you
have a request to make of me--_n'est-ce pas_?'

"`I felt such interest about you, madam, that I acknowledge, if it would
not be too painful to you, I should like to ask a question.'

"`Which is, How did I break my nose?  Of course you want to know.  And
as it is the only return I can make for past or future obligations to
you, you shall most certainly be gratified.  I will not detain you now.
I shall expect you to supper.  Adieu, monsieur.'

"I did not, of course, fail in my appointment; and after supper she
commenced:--

"`The question to be answered,' said she, `is, How did you break your
nose?--is it not?  Well then, at least, I shall answer it after my own
fashion.  So, to begin at the beginning, I am now exactly twenty-two
years old.  My father was tambour-majeur in the Garde Imperiale.  I was
born in the camp--brought up in the camp--and, finally, I was married in
the camp, to a lieutenant of infantry at the time.  So that, you
observe, I am altogether _militaire_.  As a child, I was wakened up with
the drum and fife, and went to sleep with the bugles; as a girl, I
became quite conversant with every military manoeuvre; and now that I am
a woman grown, I believe that I am more fit for the _baton_ than
one-half of those marshals who have gained it.  I have studied little
else but tactics and have as my poor husband said, quite a genius for
them; but of that hereafter.  I was married at sixteen, and have ever
since followed my husband.  I followed him at last to his grave.  He
quitted my bed for the bed of honour, where he sleeps in peace.  We'll
drink to his memory.'

"We emptied our glasses, when she continued:--

"`My husband's regiment was not ordered to Africa until after the first
disastrous attempt upon Constantine.  It fell to our lot to assist in
retrieving the honour of our army in the more successful expedition
which took place, as you, of course, are aware, about three months ago.
I will not detain you with our embarkation or voyage.  We landed from a
steamer at Bona, and soon afterwards my husband's company was ordered to
escort a convoy of provisions to the army which was collecting at Mzez
Ammar.  Well, we arrived safely at our various camps of Drean, Nech
Meya, and Amman Berda.  We made a little _detour_ to visit Ghelma.  I
had curiosity to see it, as formerly it was an important city.  I must
say, that a more tenable position I never beheld.  But I tire you with
these details.'

"`On the contrary, I am delighted.'

"`You are very good.  I ought to have said something about the
travelling in those wild countries, which is anything but pleasant.  The
soil is a species of clay, hard as a flint when the weather is dry, but
running into a slippery paste as soon as moistened.  It is, therefore,
very fatiguing, especially in wet weather, when the soldiers slip about
in a very laughable manner to look at, but very distressing to
themselves.  I travelled either on horseback or in one of the waggons,
as it happened.  I was too well known, and, I hope I may add, too well
liked, not to be as well provided for as possible.  It is remarkable how
soon a Frenchman will make himself comfortable, wherever he may chance
to be.  The camp of Mzez Ammar was as busy and as lively as if it was
pitched in the heart of France.  The followers had built up little
cabins out of the branches of trees, with their leaves on, interwoven
together, all in straight lines, forming streets, very commodious, and
perfectly impervious to the withering sun.  There were _restaurants,
cafes, debis de vin et d'eau-de-vie_, sausage-sellers, butchers,
grocers--in fact, there was every trade almost, and everything you
required; not very cheap certainly, but you must recollect, that this
little town had sprung up, as if by magic, in the heart of the desert.

"`It was in the month of September that Damremont ordered a
_reconnoissance_ in the direction of Constantine, and a battalion of my
husband's regiment, the 47th, was ordered to form a part of it.  I have
said nothing about my husband.  He was a good little man, and a brave
officer, full of honour, but very obstinate.  He never would take
advice, and it was nothing but "_Tais-toi, Coralie_," all day long--but
no one is perfect.  He wished me to remain in the camp, but I made it a
rule never to be left behind.  We set off; and I rode in one of the
little carriages called _cacolets_ which had been provided for the
wounded.  It was terrible travelling, I was jolted to atoms, in the
ascent of the steep mountain called the Rass-el-akba; but we gained the
summit without a shot being fired.  When we arrived there, and looked
down beneath us, the sight was very picturesque.  There were about four
or five thousand of the Arab cavalry awaiting our descent; their white
bournous, as they term the long dresses in which they enfold themselves,
waving in the wind as they galloped at speed in every direction; while
the glitter of their steel arms flashed like lightning upon our eyes.
We closed our ranks and descended; the Arabs, in parties of forty or
fifty, charging upon our flanks every minute, not coming to close
conflict, but stopping at pistol-shot distance, discharging their guns,
and then wheeling off again to a distance--mere child's play, sir;
nevertheless, there were some of our men wounded, and the little waggon,
upon which I was riding, was ordered up in the advance to take them in.
Unfortunately, to keep clear of the troops, the driver kept too much on
one side of the narrow defile through which we passed: the consequence
was, that the waggon upset, and I was thrown out a considerable distance
down the precipice.'  `And broke your nose,' interrupted I.

"`No, indeed, sir, I did not.  I escaped with only a few contusions
about the region of the hip, which certainly lamed me for some time, and
made the jolting more disagreeable than ever.  Well, the
_reconnoissance_ succeeded.  Damremont was, however, wrong altogether.
I told him so when I met him; but he was an obstinate old fool, and his
answer was not as polite as it might have been, considering that at that
time I was a very pretty woman.  We returned to the camp at Mzez Ammar;
a few days afterwards we were attacked by the Arabs, who showed great
spirit and determination in their desultory mode of warfare, which,
however, can make no impression on such troops as the French.  The
attack was continued for three days, when they decamped as suddenly as
they had come.  But this cannot be very interesting to you, monsieur.'

"`On the contrary, do not, I beg, leave out a single remark or
incident.'

"`You are very good.  I presume you know how we _militaires_ like to
fight our battles over again.  Well, sir, we remained in camp until the
arrival of the Duc de Nemours,--a handsome, fair lad, who smiled upon me
very graciously.  On the 1st of October we set off on our expedition to
Constantine; that is to say, the advanced guard did, of which my
husband's company formed a portion.  The weather, which had been very
fine, now changed, and it rained hard all the day.  The whole road was
one mass of mud, and there was no end to delays and accidents.  However,
the weather became fine again, and on the 5th we arrived within two
leagues of Constantine, when the Arabs attacked us, and I was very
nearly taken prisoner.'

"`Indeed?'

"`Yes; my husband, who, as I before observed to you, was very obstinate,
would have me ride on a _caisson_ in the rear; whereas I wished to be in
the advance, where my advice might have been useful.  The charge of the
Arabs was very sudden; the three men who were with the _caisson_ were
sabred, and I was in the arms of a chieftain, who was wheeling round his
horse to make off with me when a ball took him in the neck, and he fell
with me.  I disengaged myself, seized the horse by the bridle, and
prevented its escape; and I also took possession of the Arab's pistols
and scymitar.'

"`Indeed!'

"`My husband sold the horse the next day to one of our generals, who
forgot to pay for it after my husband was killed.  As for the scymitar
and pistols, they were stolen from me that night: but what can you
expect?--our army is brave, but a little demoralised.  The next day we
arrived before Constantine, and we had to defile before the enemy's
guns.  At one portion of the road, men and horses were tumbled over by
their fire; the _caisson_ that I was riding upon was upset by a ball,
and thrown down the ravine, dragging the horses after it.  I lay among
the horses' legs--they kicking furiously; it was a miracle that my life
was preserved: as it was--'

"`You broke your nose,' interrupted I.

"`No, sir, indeed I did not.  I only received a kick on the arm, which
obliged me to carry it in a sling for some days.  The weather became
very bad; we had few tents, and they were not able to resist the storms
of rain and wind.  We wrapped ourselves up how we could, and sat in deep
pools of water, and the Arabs attacked us before we could open the fire
of our batteries; we were in such a pickle that, had the bad weather
lasted, we must have retreated; and happy would those have been who
could have once more found themselves safe in the camp of Mzez Ammar.  I
don't think that I ever suffered so much as I did at that time--the
weather had even overcome the natural gallantry of our nation; and so
far from receiving any attention, the general remark to me was, "What
the devil do _you_ do here?"  This to be said to a pretty woman!

"`It was not till the 10th that we could manage to open the fire of our
batteries.  It was mud, mud, and mud again; the men and horses were
covered with mud up to their necks--the feathers of the staff were
covered with mud--every ball which was fired by the enemy sent up
showers of mud; even the face of the Duc de Nemours was disfigured with
it.  I must say that our batteries were well situated, all except the
great mortar battery.  This I pointed out to Damremont when he passed
me, and he was very savage.  Great men don't like to be told of their
faults; however, he lost his life three days afterwards from not taking
my advice.  He was going down the hill with Rhullieres when I said to
him, "Mon General, you expose yourself too much; that which is duty in a
subaltern is a fault in a general."  He very politely told me to go to
where he may chance to be himself now; for a cannonball struck him a few
seconds afterwards, and he was killed on the spot.  General Perregaux
was severely wounded almost at the same time.  For four days the
fighting was awful; battery answered to battery night and day: while
from every quarter of the compass we were exposed to the fierce attacks
of the Arab cavalry.  The commander of our army sent a flag of truce to
their town, commanding them to surrender: and, what do you think was the
reply?--"If you want powder, we'll supply you; if you are without bread,
we will send it to you: but as long as there is one good Mussulman left
alive, you do not enter the town."--Was not that grand?  The very reply,
when made known to the troops, filled them with admiration of their
enemy, and they swore by their colours that if ever they overpowered
them they would give them no quarter.

"`In two days, General Vallee, to whom the command fell upon the death
of Damremont, considered the breach sufficiently wide for the assault,
and we every hour expected that the order would be given.  It came at
last.  My poor husband was in the second column which mounted.  Strange
to say, he was very melancholy on that morning, and appeared to have a
presentiment of what was to take place.  "Coralie," said he to me, as he
was scraping the mud off his trousers with his pocket-knife, "if I fall,
you will do well.  I leave you as a legacy to General Vallee--he will
appreciate you.  Do not forget to let him know my testamentary
dispositions."

"`I promised I would not.  The drums beat.  He kissed me on both cheeks.
"Go, my Philippe," said I; "go to glory."  He did; for a mine was
sprung, and he with many others was blown to atoms.  I had watched the
advance of the column and was able to distinguish the form of my dear
Philippe when the explosion with the vast column of smoke took place.
When it cleared away, I could see the wounded in every direction
hastening back; but my husband was not among them.  In the mean time the
other columns entered the breach--the firing was awful, and the carnage
dreadful.  It was more than an hour after the assault commenced before
the French tricolor waved upon the minarets of Constantine.

"`It was not until the next day that I could make up my mind to search
for my husband's body; but it was my duty.  I climbed up the breach,
strewed with the corpses of our brave soldiers, intermingled with those
of the Arabs; but I could not find my husband.  At last a head which had
been blown off attracted my attention.  I examined it--it was my
Philippe's, blackened and burnt, and terribly disfigured: but who can
disguise the fragment of a husband from the keen eyes of the wife of his
bosom?  I leaned over it.  "My poor Philippe!" exclaimed I: and the
tears were bedewing my cheeks when I perceived the Duc de Nemours close
to me, with all his staff attending him.  "What have we here?" said he
with surprise, to those about him.  "A wife, looking for her husband's
body, mon prince," replied I.  "I cannot find it; but here is his head."
He said something very complimentary and kind, and then walked on.  I
continued my search without success, and determined to take up my
quarters in the town.  As I clambered along, I gained a battered wall;
and, putting my foot on it it gave way with me, and I fell down several
feet.  Stunned with the blow, I remained for some time insensible; when
I came to, I found--'

"`That you had broken your nose.'

"`No, indeed; I had sprained my ankle and hurt the cap of my knee, but
my nose was quite perfect.  You must have a little patience yet.

"`What fragments of my husband were found, were buried in a large grave,
which held the bodies and the mutilated portions of the killed: and
having obtained possession of an apartment in Constantine, I remained
there several days, lamenting his fate.  At last, it occurred to me that
his testamentary dispositions should be attended to, and I wrote to
General Vallee, informing him of the last wishes of my husband.  His
reply was very short; it was, that he was excessively flattered,--but
press of business would not permit him to administer to the will.  It
was not polite.

"`On the 26th I quitted Constantine with a convoy of wounded men.  The
dysentery and the cholera made fearful ravages, and I very soon had a
_caisson_ all to myself.  The rain again came on in torrents, and it was
a dreadful funeral procession.  Every minute wretches, jolted to death,
were thrown down into pits by the road-side, and the cries of those who
survived were dreadful.  Many died of cold and hunger; and after three
days we arrived at the camp of Mzez Ammar, with the loss of more than
one-half of our sufferers.

"`I took possession of one of the huts built of the boughs of the trees
which I formerly described, and had leisure to think over my future
plans and prospects.  I was young and pretty, and hope did not desert
me.  I had recovered my baggage, which I had left at the camp, and was
now able to attend to my toilet.  The young officers who were in the
camp paid me great attention, and were constantly passing and repassing
to have a peep at the handsome widow, as they were pleased to call me:
and now comes the history of my misfortune.

"`The cabin built of boughs which I occupied was double; one portion was
fenced off from the other with a wattling of branches, which ran up
about seven feet, but not so high as the roof.  In one apartment I was
located, the other was occupied by a young officer who paid me
attention, but who was not to my liking.  I had been walking out in the
cool of the evening, and had returned, when I heard voices in the other
apartment.  I entered softly and they did not perceive my approach; they
were talking about me, and I must say that the expressions were very
complimentary.  At last one of the party observed, "Well, she is a
splendid woman, and a good soldier's wife.  I hope to be a general
by-and-bye, and she would not disgrace a marshal's baton.  I think I
shall propose to her before we leave the camp."

"`Now, sir, I did not recognise the speaker by his voice, and, flattered
by the remark, I was anxious to know who it could be who was thus
prepossessed in my favour.  I thought that if I could climb up on the
back of the only chair which was in my apartment, I should be able to
see over the partition and satisfy my curiosity.  I did so, and without
noise; and I was just putting my head over to take a survey of the
tenants of the other apartment when the chair tilted, and down I came on
the floor, and on my face.  Unfortunately, I hit my nose upon the edge
of the frying-pan, with which my poor Philippe and I used to cook our
meat; and now, sir, you know how it was that I broke my nose.'

"`What a pity!' observed I.

"`Yes; a great pity.  I had gone through the whole campaign without any
serious accident, and--But, after all, it was very natural: the two
besetting evils of women are Vanity and Curiosity, and if you were to
ascertain the truth, you would find that it is upon these two
stumbling-blocks that most women are upset and break their noses.'

"`Very true, madam,' replied I.  `I thank you for your narrative, and
shall be most happy to be of any use to you.  But I will detain you from
your rest no longer, so wish you a very good night.'"

"Well, colonel," said I, as he made a sudden stop, "what occurred after
that?"

"I took great care of her until we arrived in London, saw her safe to
the hotel in Leicester Square, and then took my leave.  Whether Liston
replaced her nose, and she is now _flanee_-ing about Paris, as beautiful
as before her accident; or, whether his skill was useless to her, and
she is among the _Soeurs de Charite_, or in a convent, I cannot say: I
have never seen or heard of her since."

"Well, I know Liston, and I'll not forget to ask him about her the very
first time that I meet him.  Will you have another cigar?"

"No, I thank you.  I've finished my cigar, my bottle, and my story, and
so now good night!"

THE END.