he
Tupinambas and expected that he was about to die. "The moon was
up, and fixing his eyes upon her, he silently besought God to
vouchsafe him a happy termination of these sufferings. Yeppipo
Wasu, who was one of the chiefs of the horde, and as such had
convoked the meeting, seeing how earnestly he kept gazing
upwards, asked him what he was looking at. Hans had ceased from
praying, and was observing the man in the moon, and fancying that
he looked angry; his mind was broken down by continual terror, and
he says it seemed to him at that moment as if he were hated by God,
and by all things which God had created. The question only half
roused him from this phantasy, and he answered, it was plain that
the moon was angry. The savage asked whom she was angry with,
and then Hans, as if he had recollected himself, replied that she was
looking at his dwelling. This enraged him, and Hans found it
prudent to say that perhaps her eyes were turned so wrathfully upon
the Carios; in which opinion the chief assented, and wished she
might destroy them all." [281] Some such superstitious fear must
have furnished the warp into which the following Icelandic story
was woven. "There was once a sheep-stealer who sat down in a
lonely place, with a leg of mutton in his hand, in order to feast upon
it, for he had just stolen it. The moon shone bright and clear, not a
single cloud being there in heaven to hide her. While enjoying his
gay feast, the impudent thief cut a piece off the meat, and, putting it
on the point of his knife, accosted the moon with these godless
words:--

'O moon, wilt thou
On thy mouth now
This dainty bit of mutton-meat?'

Then a voice came from the heavens, saying:--

'Wouldst thou, thief, like
Thy cheek to strike
This fair key, scorching-red with heat?'

At the same moment, a red-hot key fell from the sky on to the cheek
of the thief, burning on it a mark which he carried with him ever
afterwards. Hence arose the custom in ancient times of branding or
marking thieves." [282] The moral influence of this tale is excellent,
and has the cordial admiration of all who hate robbery and
effrontery: at the same time it exhibits the moon as an irascible
body, with which no liberty may be taken. In short, it is an object of
superstitious awe.

One other lunar fancy, born and bred in fear, is connected with the
abominable superstition of witchcraft. Abominable, unquestionabl