if they retain their sex, would have an advance agent, and make the tour of the world.

We

A necromancer, or call him a spiritualist or a thought-reader, for they are all one, is now a prosperous gentleman, not so picturesque as his predecessors in office but a good deal smarter, a Merlin in evening dress, with a motorcar waiting for him at the door, and a bag of tricks in place of the stuffed crocodile. Knowing a lit. tle, a very little more of the mysteries of nature, with that blessed letter X and its rays before our eyes, we hardly dare laugh at him; we even think, privately, that we might do worse than choose this once risky calling for our boys, as a recognized, well-paid profession, already with a literature and a review of its own, and therefore highly respectable. But in the essentiak, do we get any forwarder? welcome any new calling, profession, or industry in this overcrowded world, but is this new one of much use? Do the spirits raised by it tell us even as much as the Sybils of old or as the spirit of Endor? Not half so much. Mankind is aching with expectancy, waiting tremblingly as before the curtain of the holiest; we cover the occult fraternity with gold, and what do we hear? Not a sound, not a whisper! The result is so ludicrously inadequate that we must venture to suppose that we are on the wrong track. Do we not, with every new discovery in science or psychology, get deeper in the bog? Are we not, with all respect, following a will-o'-the-wisp? The process is such a curiously negative one. One after another we shed our superstitions, as a snake sheds its skin, and, also like it, growing new ones continually. What is there to choose between the familiar spirit raised at Endor and the far too familiar ones that speak inanities in the tongue of the medium, except a gradual lowering of

spiritual dignity and standing? Saul did not actually see Samuel,-there was this hitch then as there is nowbut the powerful Eastern Chief, prone on the ground in an agony of superstitious fear, was a sad and solemn figure, free from any vestige of ridicule; he at least heard no tambourine, though the instrument is of untold antiquity, and was well known in his days. our familiarity with the spirit world, we have lost all sense of the dread sublimity of the unknown, and have fallen to a depth of vulgarity only equalled in the practices of a negro Obi

man.

In

If to the editors and readers of The Occult Review and kindred publications, (we are offered to-day, incredible as it may seem, The Black Pullet, or the Secret of the Ancient Sage of the Pyramids, with the Variations of the Black Screechowl and The Magic Ritual of the Sanctum Regnum, interpreted by the Tarot Trumps,) if to the thousands of weakminded people whose lives and actions are ruled by the spectral voices of dead and gone husbands and wives, as we learn but too frequently from the papers, we add fashionable thought-readers, neo-Buddhists, astrologers, and almanac-makers, the crystal-gazers, the palmists of Bond Street, the vulgar fortune-tellers of Soho, the dreamers of dreams, we reach a total of black, concrete superstition which for the twentieth century must certainly be called astounding. Who will ever sweep out this stable? Royal Commissions or police regulations may deal with betting or drink, but this evil was already difficult to control in Saul's time, and it is within the bounds of reasonable probability that we may become more and more credulous as civilization advances. Cheats will always be on the look-out for new discoveries to turn into some form of esoteric swindle; there would have been no Balsamo, no Necklace Affair, had Galvani and Volta

not discovered galvanism; without the hypnotism of the doctors we should have had no thought-readers, and many shillings would not have changed hands. The ground is well prepared by the explaining away of all old faiths and beliefs, for believe in something we must, nature abhorring a vacuum, even in an empty head.

It must in fairness be added that all men have not always considered it as an evil. It has a fascination all its own and is to a certain extent harmless, if decidedly discreditable to a community which vaunts itself highly civilized. It is to-day as fashionable as bridge, and a drastic definition in modern language of what rogues and vagabonds meant in old days is hardly to be expected. The evil has in turn been countenanced and frowned upon in high places. Saul began by rooting it out and ended by personally making use of it. In the year 1690 Queen Mary went in disguise to consult a celebrated female soothsayer called Mrs. Wise. The woman recognized the Queen and for fear of making mistakes would not open her mouth; when Dutch William heard of it, he opened his, and gave his wife a public scolding which historians say she took very meekly. Superstition might perhaps have been excused in a Stuart, a doomed race which carried their fate written on their features; but equally of course it could find no toleration in a Calvinistic prince hailing from a country which has always been the least superstitious in Europe. But some years before this the whole British House of Commons showed a surprising leaning towards popular error when they summoned the astrologer Lilly to appear before them. not as a culprit but as a valued adviser. As he himself said, "It was Mr. Lilly here and Mr. Lilly there"; they treated him with the greatest courtesy, anxious to know, through him and the stars, who it was that set fire

to the City. He frankly told the members that he could find no reason to doubt the truth of what the stars declared, namely, that it was an accident, and nothing more. The House warmly thanked the astrologer, and proceeded to more sensible business.

Yet there was some excuse for this. Of all modes of divination astrology is really the most respectable, and it still has adherents to-day among well-informed people. Sorcerers, magicians, and wizards were cheats, but astrologers were not. This science is now proved to be wrong, which unfortu nately often happens to science at one period or another, the wisdom of to-day being frequently the foolishness of tomorrow; but it was a science with clearly defined rules, not practised in secret fashion with intent to deceive. You could, you can now, buy the textbooks and grammar for a few shillings, and every man may be his own prophet. A respectable star-gazer was as willing as Mr. Maskelyne is to "show you how it was done." In fact Zadkiel (for there really was one), when he edited a new edition of Lilly's Grammar, published the horoscope of the Duke of Wellington, showing in full astronomical detail how such a nativity was calculated from the position of the heavenly bodies at the hour of the hero's birth. The thing can be followed by any one with a clear head and a little patience, and the Duke's career so startlingly verified the truth of the hor oscope that we can hardly wonder at the hold this pseudo-science once had on the popular mind. Of course this singular fact was published after his death.

What are we to say, then, to a fact which goes straight against the teaching and conviction of sensible men of all ages! If there be one theory which seemed bound to find its fulfilment in practice, it is that the spread of education is the only cure for superstition.

and we see it is nothing of the sort. In this most highly civilized capital of the world it is as rampant in the twentieth as it was in the sixteenth century. We may change the names and objects: there is more secrecy in one way and more publicity in another; but the thing remains the same. Then, ladies of high standing went to soothsayers disguised as applewomen with marketbaskets on their arms, and when the stars proved unpropitious they fell into hysterics, and jewelled high-heeled shoes beating a tattoo on the floor spoiled a disguise which was rarely successful. Now, the ladies stop at home and milliners call with boxes lettered in gold Madame So-and-So, Modiste; and when the boudoir-door is shut the cards are produced that are to reveal the future. Séances of spiritism in public take the place of incantations in secret, but the intentions are as like as two peas. We have nothing to say against ladders and knives and salt. strangers in tea, Fridays and the right foot. Education has little to do with these harmless twists of the mind against which the sanest people are not always entirely proof: such trifles will never upset any one's mental balance: Macmillan's Magazine.

but the occult rubbish which is now so fashionable is a more positive danger to the community.

We should be sorry to repeat the mistake of Tenterden Steeple, and do not wish to hint at any connection between telepathy, or thought-reading, and the alarming growth of lunacy in the United Kingdom, though it is certain that these practices do not tend towards emptying the asylums. If it were not that praises of the good old times are so much at a discount, we could wish to feel our feet once more on firm ground as our forefathers did, and could follow King Saul in his saner moments by getting rid of the occult business root and branch. We can never know what that dense unshaken faith of theirs felt like. The last few generations have been born and bred in an atmosphere of doubt and uncertainty (the result and the disadvantage of knowing too much) which has tinged all our thoughts, and has to a certain extent taken the backbone out of us. To regain that solid ground, we would willingly make room again for a belief in the medieval Devil if it could be done on no other terms.

Marcus Reed.

The fire had been kept alive all night. and candles had been burning till the dawn proclaimed the advent of a new day and a new year. No one but friends had been allowed near the fire on the last evening of the year-Candle Night, as it was sometimes called. An incantation had been said when feeding the fire, so that evil might be kept away from the house in the coming year. It was a sad mischance if the fire went out. No light was obtainable from any one. It was unlucky to give

it, and it meant destruction to the cattle and their produce by witches and evil-disposed persons. The women had been busy baking the bread for New Year's Day. The old men had been often outside to note in what direction the wind blew. It was to be the prevailing wind for the ensuing year, and was full of omen:

South wind-heat and produce:
North wind-cold and tempest;
West wind-fish and milk;
East wind-fruit on trees.

At last the New Year Latha na Bliadhn' ùr, or the day of Little Christmas, dawned. The head of the house was early astir, and treated all its inmates to a dram, followed by a spoonful of half-boiled sowens. This for luck. Salutations were exchanged: "A good New Year to you"-"The same to you, and many of them." Then followed the breakfast-a better repast than on an ordinary day.

Nothing whatever was allowed to be carried out of the house-neither ashes, nor sweepings, nor dirty water. If a woman was the first to enter it was unlucky, also if a man appeared emptyhanded. It was an excellent omen of coming prosperity if a young man was the "first foot," and especially if he bore with him an armful of corn. The advent of an old woman asking for kindling for her fire was ominous of disaster. To see the sun on New Year's Day was an omen of good. Towards mid-day the men assembled for the great shinty match, played by two parties, the leaders selecting their men alternately. Or perhaps the match was between two parishes, districts, or villages. In daylight a wooden ball was used; a ball of thread if the day was dark, or if the game was played by moonlight. The chief, the proprie tor, the priest or minister, the principal person present began the game. The beginning and end of the game were signalized by the screeching of the bagpipes. The women, in their best frocks, watched the varying fortunes of the game. After it was over a dinner was given by the laird or chief, and this was followed by a dance.

New Year's Day was what Was called a great saining day-a day for taking precautions against evil coming to the cattle, the crops, and the homes. Juniper was burned in byre, the animals were washed with tar, the houses were decked with mountain-ash, and

the door-posts and walls, and even the cattle, were sprinkled with wine.

The nights by this time had become shorter. "There is an hour of greater length to the day at Little Christmas." This means that owing to the lengthening of the day the "fuel lad" has to go one trip less for kindling to make a light. Even Christmas Day was longer by a cock's stride or walk. The bird had time to walk to a neighbor's dunghill, crow three times and come back again. The weather of the first twelve days of the year was significant of the weather during the year. These days were called "the black cuttings of Christmas," because they were often tempestuous. The first Monday after New Year's Day was "Di-luain an tsainnseil”—“Handsel Monday." It was the principal day of the whole year for making trials and forecasts of the future. Every visitor to the house received a "handsel," i.e., a gift. The children at school took presents to the schoolmaster and engaged in cock-fighting. It is now, of course, the dead season of the year. There is a Gaelic saying that "Winter comes not till after New Year, nor Spring till after St Patrick's Day (17th of March)."

And yet Spring is on its way. February is at hand. The season of Faoilleach comes. Faoilleach is the last fourteen days of Winter and the first fourteen days of Spring-the Winter Faoilleach and the Spring Faoilleach Am Faoilleach géamhraidh and am Favilleach Earraich. By some this name is derived from Faol, a wolf or wild-dog. It is the wolf month, in which these animals, once plentiful in the Highlands, abounded, and became more daring and dangerous. Others derive it from Faoile, welcome, joy-a derivation supported by the rhyming proverbs:

February cold and keen, Welcome hath it ever been;

Sheep and cattle running hot. Sorrow that will bring, 1 wot.

or this variation:

February cows in heat,

Sorrow will the season greet; February cows in wood, Welcome is the weather good.

Old people liked the month to commence with a storm and to end with a calm-"to come in with the head of a serpent, and to go out with a peacock's tail." An old proverb said: “For every song the mavis sings in February she'll lament ere Spring be over"; or, as it is said in Lowland Scots, "As lang as the bird sings before Candlemas, he greets after it." Another saying is, "Better foray coming to the land than mild mornings in the cold month of storms." This corresponds to our

February fill the dike

Either with the black or white: But if it be white, it's better to like.

Again:

The hind had as lief see his wife on the bier

As that Candlemas Day should be pleasant and clear.

And

A' the months o' the year Curse a fair Februeer.

Other Candlemas proverbs are: "The snow that comes not at Hallomas will come thick at Candlemas"; "When Candlemas is past the fox won't hurt his tail on the ice"; and

For New Year cold, good is woollen cloth:

For Candlemas cold, mixed stuff will do.

Of anything out of season it was said "That were the bramble-berries in February," "Bramble-berries in Feb

ruary, and seagull's eggs in Spring." And yet it is a very old saying that there were always three days of August in February and three days of February in August. Both the February calm and the August storm have, however, become proverbial for their The short duration and uncertainty. most fickle things in the world are "February calm and August wind." It was said that to hear thunder in this month was as unnatural as to hear a calf lowing in its mother's womb. Seasonable weather at this time of the year is expressed in the couplet:

Seven bolls of February snow Through an auger-hole to go.

The period of the year from Christmas (Nollaig) to St. Bride's Day (1st February, old style-13th new style) was called "The Little Spring of Whelks." That kind of shellfish is then at its best, and the soup made from it was much relished. As in the case of many Celtic festivals St. Bride's Day is of Irish origin. St. Bridget is said to have been the first nun in Ireland. In 585 she founded her first cell where the city of Kildare now stands. A native of Ulster, she built many monasteries, performed many miracles, and became the Patroness of Ireland. Her body is said to have been found in the same grave as those of St. Patrick and St. Columba. A well near her church in Fleet Street gave its name, Bridewell, to a palace given by Edward VI. to the City of London for a courthouse and a house of correction. "The honored name of St. Bride," says Mr. Gregorson Campbell,' "who, during many ages, was celebrated for her sanctity and piety, has thus, by acci

"Witchcraft and Second-sight in the Highlands and Islands of Scotland." Tales and traditions collected entirely from oral sources by the late John Gregorson Campbell, author of "Superstitions of the Highlands and Islands of Scotland." (Glasgow: James MacLehose and Co., publishers to the University, 1902.)