n the dog, which is not surprising when we
remember the limited fauna of the antipodes. The Maori legend runs
something like this. A man called Rona went out one night to fetch water
from a well, but, falling, sprained his ankle so as to be unable to
return home. All at once the moon, which had risen, began to approach
him. In terror he clung to a tree, which gave way, and both tree and
Rona fell on the moon, where they remain even unto this day. Here we
have clearly a variation of the 'bundle of sticks' legend, but there is
an absence of apparent cause and effect in the Maori legend which is
unsatisfactory.

More precise is the Bushman legend, quoted by Dr. Bleek. According to
this, the moon is a man who incurs the wrath of the sun, and is
consequently pierced by the knife (the rays) of the latter, until there
is only a little piece of him left. Then he cries for mercy for his
children's sake, and is allowed to grow again until once more he offends
his sunship; the whole process being repeated monthly.

Dr. Rink relates a curious tradition of the Eskimo, not quite quotable
here, the gist of which is that a man who desired to make his sister his
wife was transformed into the moon, while the woman became the sun.
Something like the same legend has been traced as far south as Panama.
Another notable thing about Eskimo traditions is that the moon is
associated with fertility in woman. This superstition is both very
ancient and very widespread, and, indeed, seems to have been the root
both of the moon-worship of the Oriental nations and of the mysterious
rites of the Egyptians referred to by Herodotus. Luna is identified by
some mythologists with Soma of the Indian mythology, _i.e._, the emblem
of reproduction.

In China, according to Dr. Dennys, the man in the moon is called
Yue-lao, and he is believed to hold in his hands the power of
predestining marriages. He is supposed to tie together the future
husband and wife with an invisible silken cord, which never parts while
life lasts. Miss Gordon-Cumming, in her interesting account of
Wanderings in China, relates that, in the neighbourhood of Foo-Chow, she
witnessed a great festival being held in honour of the full moon, which
was mainly attended by women. There was a Temple-play, or sing-song,
going on all day and most of the night, and each woman carried a stool
so that she might sit out the whole performance. This recalls what Mr.
Riley states in The Book of Days, as r