it may seem; for if the man could not make
rain when it was wanted, what was he good for?

The ceremonies of the pow-wows or medicine-men of the North American
Indians, are less brutal than the African ones. These soothsayers, like
the Obi-men, prepared charms for their customers, usually, however, not
so much to destroy others as to protect the wearer. These charms consist
of some trifling matters tied up in a small bag, the "medicine-bag,"
which is to be worn round the neck, and will, it is supposed, insure the
wearer the special help and protection of the Great Spirit. The pow-wows
sometimes do a little in the cursing line.

There is a funny story of a Puritan minister in the early times of New
England, who coolly defied one of the most famous Indian magicians to
play off his infernal artillery. A formal meeting was had, and the
pow-wow rattled his traps, howled, danced, blew feathers, and
vociferated jargon until he was perfectly exhausted, the old minister
quietly looking at him all the time. The savage humbug was dumbfounded,
but quickly recovering his presence of mind, saved his home-reputation
by explaining to the red gentlemen in breech-cloths and nose-rings, that
the Yankee ate so much salt that curses wouldn't take hold on him at
all.

The Shamans (or Schamans) of Siberia, follow a very similar business,
but are not so much priestly humbugs as mere conjurors. The Lamas, or
Buddhist leaders of Central and Southern Asia are, however, regular
priests, again, and may be said, with singular propriety, to "run their
machine" on principles of thorough religious humbug, for they do really
pray by a machine. They set up a little mill to go by water or wind,
which turns a cylinder. On this cylinder is written a prayer, and every
time the barrel goes round once, it counts, they say, for one prayer. It
may be imagined how piety intensifies in a freshet, or in a heavy gale
of wind! And there is a ludicrous notion of economy, as well as a
pitiable folly in the conception of profiting by such windy
supplications, and of saving all one's time and thoughts for business,
while the prayers rattle out by the hundred at home. Only imagine the
pious fervor of one of these priests in a first-class Lowell mill, of
say a hundred thousand spindles. Print a large edition of some good
prayer and paste a copy on each spindle, and the place would seem to him
the very gate of a Buddhist heaven. He would feel sure of taking heaven
by st