serious bodily injury in consequence of their sport[8].  Similarly, when the wind blows the long grass or waving corn, the German peasant will say, “the Grass-wolf,” or “the Corn-wolf” is abroad.  According to Mr. Ralston, in some places, “the last sheaf of rye is left as a shelter to the Roggenwolf or Rye-wolf during the winter’s cold, and in many a summer or autumn festive rite that being is represented by a rustic, who assumes a wolf-like appearance.  The corn spirit was, however, often symbolised under a human form.”

Indeed, under a variety of forms this animistic conception is found among the lower races, and in certain cases explains the strong prejudice to certain herbs as articles of food.  The Society Islanders ascribed a “varua” or surviving soul to plants, and the negroes of Congo adored a sacred tree called “Mirrone,” one being generally planted near the house, as if it were the tutelar god of the dwelling.  It is customary, also, to place calabashes of palm wine at the feet of these trees, in case they should be thirsty.  In modern folk-lore there are many curious survivals of this tree-soul doctrine.  In Westphalia,[9] the peasantry announce formally to the nearest oak any death that may have occurred in the family, and occasionally this formula is employed—­“The master is dead, the master is dead.”  Even recently, writes Sir John Lubbock[10], an oak copse at Loch Siant, in the Isle of Skye, was held so sacred that no persons would venture to cut the smallest branch from it.  The Wallachians, “have a superstition that every flower has a soul, and that the water-lily is the sinless and scentless flower of the lake, which blossoms at the gates of Paradise to judge the rest, and that she will inquire strictly what they have done with their odours."[11] It is noteworthy, also, that the Indian belief which describes the holes in trees as doors through which the special spirits of those trees pass, reappears in the German superstition that the holes in the oak are the pathways for elves;[12] and that various diseases may be cured by contact with these holes.  Hence some trees are regarded with special veneration—­particularly the lime and pine[13]—­and persons of a superstitious turn of mind, “may often be seen carrying sickly children to a forest for the purpose of dragging them through such holes.”  This practice formerly prevailed in our own country, a well-known illustration of which we may quote from White’s “History of Selborne:” 

“In a farmyard near the middle of the village,” he writes, “stands at this day a row of pollard ashes, which by the seams and long cicatrices down their sides, manifestly show that in former times they had been cleft asunder.  These trees, when young and flexible, were severed and held open by wedges, while ruptured children, stripped naked, were pushed through the apertures."[14]

In Somersetshire the superstition still lingers on, and in Cornwall the ceremony to be of value must be performed before sunrise; but the practice does not seem to have been confined to any special locality.  It should also be added, as Mr. Conway[15] has pointed out, that in all Saxon countries in the Middle Ages a hole formed by two branches of a tree growing together was esteemed of highly efficacious value.