among them. When the moon is eclipsed, they think it is bewitched; they regard green trees as living and having souls; and they consider sickness a kind of foreign, baleful clement that has intruded itself into the organism. Sleep is conceived to be something apart and independent of the body, and the idea of disturbing sleep is incomprehensible to them. They think that, if a man has sleep, he will keep on sleeping in spite of all that can be done, but that, when sleep has left him, the slightest movement will arouse him. They believe in spirits of the wood, and of the tree, fire, house, and bath, not with the abstract, half-belief of the Russian peasant, but with a full confidence in their existence as practical realities. "I am convinced," says the Russian officer, "that the Yarchan peasant is accustomed to begin nothing without previous incantations and mysterious manipulations. Father Wood-Spirit is besought not to drive away the squirrels during the hunt; the spirit of the bath is asked for permission to go into the bathing-place; and the Yarchan is not willing to go to his bath alone for fear of being troubled by the spirit. So permission is asked of the wood-spirit before felling a tree. All petitions of this kind are accompanied with peculiar symbolical formulas. Incantations are in use for the gun, in behalf of the cattle, against diseases, and for every occupation of the day and hour. Of course, there is little room for rational medicine among such a people, and incantations, holy water, and amulets are chiefly relied upon to meet the effects of bewitching. A wizard's cap was formerly set up on the road leading to Yarkino, to prevent the entrance of plagues and witches. The town clerk had it taken away, and the whole community complained of the act to the official board. A wood-fire—that is, a fire that has been kindled by rubbing two sticks together—plays an important part as a prophylactic against infections and all kinds of disease. When an epidemic breaks out, the use of matches is forbidden, all fires are extinguished, and a new wood-fire is kindled in the street, whence all the household fires must be replenished. If, while this is going on, any fire is lit by means of matches or flints, the procedure is vitiated, and has to be gone over again from the beginning.
Virchow on the Origin of Bronze.—At the recent meeting of the German Anthropological Society in Treves, Professor Virchow spoke on the origin of the bronze age. Some archæologists supposed that the composition of the bronze alloy was discovered at different places and in different times independently of one another; but against this view was the fact that the composition of the bronze found everywhere, from the Caucasus to the Pillars of Hercules, is identical—nine parts of copper to one of tin. Considering the question of original discovery, the speaker did not regard the evidence in favor of the claim of the Phœnicians as strong enough to justify the ascription of the honor to them, though they may have been active as spreaders of bronze. Hochstetter's theory that the metal was the property of the whole Aryan race, and had been their common possession before they left their Asiatic home, was opposed by geographical and archaeological considerations. Nevertheless, Professor Virchow believed that the civilization of Central Europe was the development of Arvan influence.
The Ideal Zoölogical Garden.—Mr. Theodore Link protests, in "The American Naturalist," against the usual arrangement of zoological gardens. As distinguished from menageries, or "shows," the object of zoölogical gardens, according to the constitutions and by-laws of most of them, is the study and dissemination of a knowledge of the natural habits of the animal kingdom. To fulfill this definition, the gardens should furnish opportunities for the study, "and these the disappointed zoologist seeks in vain. In fact, in this respect, the zoölogical garden of to-day affords but few more advantages than any of those traveling shows that come here every season....I have simply found that an animal, as closely confined as most of them are in zoölogical gardens, retains none of its natural habits; it only exists—a mere automaton; and even this existence is seemingly under protest. Therefore this aforesaid 'study and dissemination of a knowledge, etc.,' is 'a delusion and a snare.'" In the zoölogical gardens, as he conceives it, "the foremost condition will be the rational construction
