e purport of the
message, and, coming down to the earth, proclaimed it far and wide that
though the Moon was invariably resuscitated whenever she died, mankind,
on the other hand, should die and go to the Devil. When the silly brute
returned to the lunar country and told what he had done, the Moon was so
angry that she took up an axe and aimed a blow at his head to split it.
But the axe missed and only cut his lip open; and that was the origin
of the "hare-lip." Maddened by the pain and the insult, the Hare flew at
the Moon and almost scratched her eyes out; and to this day she bears on
her face the marks of the Hare's claws. [138]

Again, every reader of the classics knows how Selene cast Endymion into
a profound slumber because he refused her love, and how at sundown she
used to come and stand above him on the Latmian hill, and watch him as
he lay asleep on the marble steps of a temple half hidden among drooping
elm-trees, over which clambered vines heavy with dark blue grapes. This
represents the rising moon looking down on the setting sun; in Labrador
a similar phenomenon has suggested a somewhat different story. Among
the Esquimaux the Sun is a maiden and the Moon is her brother, who
is overcome by a wicked passion for her. Once, as this girl was at a
dancing-party in a friend's hut, some one came up and took hold of her
by the shoulders and shook her, which is (according to the legend) the
Esquimaux manner of declaring one's love. She could not tell who it was
in the dark, and so she dipped her hand in some soot and smeared one of
his cheeks with it. When a light was struck in the hut, she saw, to her
dismay, that it was her brother, and, without waiting to learn any more,
she took to her heels. He started in hot pursuit, and so they ran till
they got to the end of the world,--the jumping-off place,--when they
both jumped into the sky. There the Moon still chases his sister, the
Sun; and every now and then he turns his sooty cheek toward the earth,
when he becomes so dark that you cannot see him. [139]

Another story, which I cite from Mr. Tylor, shows that Malays, as well
as Indo-Europeans, have conceived of the clouds as swan-maidens. In the
island of Celebes it is said that "seven heavenly nymphs came down from
the sky to bathe, and they were seen by Kasimbaha, who thought first
that they were white doves, but in the bath he saw that they were women.
Then he stole one of the thin robes that gave the nymphs thei