-man and his myth in
the Cyclades, see J. T. Bent, in the _Athenaeum_, Jan. 17, 1885.

[151] Kaegi, _Der Rig Veda_, p. 217.

[152] _Mainjo-i-Khard_, 49, 22, ed. West.

[153] _Op. cit._, p. 98.

[154] _Prim. Cult._, i. 357.

[155] _Lectures on Language_, pp. 359, 362.

[156] Ideler (_Untersuchungen ueber den Ursprung der Sternnamen_) may
also be consulted.

_MOLY AND MANDRAGORA._

'I have found out a new cure for rheumatism,' said the lady beside
whom it was my privilege to sit at dinner. 'You carry a potato about
in your pocket!'

Some one has written an amusing account of the behaviour of a man who
is finishing a book. He takes his ideas everywhere with him and broods
over them, even at dinner, in the pauses of conversation. But here was
a lady who kindly contributed to my studies and offered me folklore
and survivals in cultivated Kensington.

My mind had strayed from the potato cure to the New Zealand habit of
carrying a baked yam at night to frighten away ghosts, and to the old
English belief that a bit of bread kept in the pocket was sovereign
against evil spirits. Why should ghosts dread the food of mortals when
it is the custom of most races of mortals to feed ancestral ghosts?
The human mind works pretty rapidly, and all this had passed through
my brain while I replied, in tones of curiosity: 'A potato!'

'Yes; but it is not every potato that will do. I heard of the cure in
the country, and when we came up to town, and my husband was
complaining of rheumatism, I told one of the servants to get me a
potato for Mr. Johnson's rheumatism. "Yes, ma'am," said the man; "but
it must be a _stolen_ potato." I had forgotten that. Well, one can't
ask one's servants to steal potatoes. It is easy in the country, where
you can pick one out of anybody's field.' 'And what did you do?' I
asked. 'Oh, I drove to Covent Garden and ordered a lot of fruit and
flowers. While the man was not looking, I stole a potato--a very
little one. I don't think there was any harm in it.' 'And did Mr.
Johnson try the potato cure?' 'Yes, he carried it in his pocket, and
now he is quite well. I told the doctor, and he says he knows of the
cure, but he dares not recommend it.'

How oddly superstitions survive! The central idea of this modern folly
about the potato is that you must pilfer the root. Let us work the
idea of the healing of magical herb backwards, from Kensington to
European folklore, and thence to classical times,