er all, a fair share
of superstition."

"I'm afraid so," acknowledged Rosemary; and no one demurred.

"Do you know how these superstitions originated, Miss Graham?" asked
Anna, who was of an inquiring mind.

"Many of them are very ancient," replied Cousin Irene. "That which
predicts that the gift of anything sharp cuts friendship probably dates
back farther than the days of Rome and Greece, and is almost as old as
the dagger itself. No doubt it originated in an age of frequent wars
and quarrels, when for a warrior to put a weapon in the hands of a
companion was perhaps to find it forthwith turned against himself. In
those days of strife also, when men were more ready in action than in
the turning of phrases, and so much was expressed by symbolism, the
offering of a sword or dagger was frequently in itself a challenge, and
a declaration of enmity. Thus, you see, that what was a natural
inference in other times is meaningless in ours. The adage which
advises the person obliged to turn back in his journey to be careful to
sit down before setting out anew, was at first simply a metaphorical
way of saying that having made a false start toward the accomplishment
of any duty, it is well to begin again at the beginning. The custom
which restrained comrades in arms, or friends walking or journeying
together, from allowing anything to come between them, had also a
figurative import. It was a dramatic manner of declaring, 'Nothing
shall ever part us,--no ill-will nor strife, not even this accidental
barrier, shall interrupt our friendly intercourse.' In the times, too,
when there were few laws but that of might, when danger often lurked by
the wayside, it was always well for a traveller to keep close to his
companion, and not to separate from him without necessity.

"Many other superstitions, as well, have a symbolical origin. But the
nineteenth century does not deal with such picturesque methods of
expression. We pride ourselves upon saying in so many words just what
we mean; therefore much of the poetic imagery of other days has no
significance in ours. And is it not symbolism without sense which
constitutes one of the phases of superstition? As for your
bread-and-butter exorcism, Anna, I presume it was simply the expression
of a hope that nothing might interfere between hungry folk and their
dinner. This is, indeed, but a bit of juvenile nonsense; just as
children will 'make believe' that some dire mishap will