Before noon, the temple is so cleared of every thing the women brought to the square, that the festival after that period, resembles a magical entertainment that had no reality in it, consisting only in a delusion of the senses. The women then carry the vessels from the temple to the water, and wash them clean for fear of pollution. As soon as the sun is visibly declining from his meridian, this third day of the fast, the _Archi-magus_ orders a religious attendant to cry aloud to the crowded town, that the holy fire is to be brought out for the sacred altar—commanding every one of them to stay within their own houses, as becomes the beloved people, without doing the least bad thing—and to be sure to extinguish, and throw away every spark of the old fire; otherwise, the divine fire will bite them severely with bad diseases, sickness, and a great many other evils, which he sententiously enumerates, and finishes his monitory caution, by laying life and death before them. Now every thing is hushed.—Nothing but silence all around: the _Archi-magus_, and his beloved waiter, rising up with a reverend carriage, steady countenance, and composed behaviour, go into the beloved place, or holiest, to bring them out the beloved fire. The former takes a piece of dry poplar, willow, or white oak, and having cut a hole, so as not to reach through it, he then sharpens another piece, and placing that with the hole between his knees, he drills it briskly for several minutes, till it begins to smoke—or, by rubbing two pieces together, for about a quarter of an hour, by friction he collects the hidden fire; which all of them reckon to immediately issue from the holy Spirit of fire. The Muskohge call the fire their grandfather—and the supreme Father of mankind, _Esakàta-Emishe_, “the breath master,” as it is commonly explained. When the fire appears, the beloved waiter cherishes it with fine chips, or shaved splinters of pitch-pine, which had been deposited in the holiest; then he takes the unsullied wing of a swan, fans it gently, and cherishes it to a flame. On this, the _Archi-magus_ brings it out in an old earthen vessel, whereon he had placed it, and lays it on the sacred altar, which is under an arbour, thick-weaved a-top with green boughs. It is observable, that when the Levites laid wood on the sacred fire, it was unlawful {105} for them either to blow it with bellows, or their breath. The Magians, or followers of Zoroaster, poured oil on their supposed holy fire, and left it to the open air to kindle it into flame. Is not this religious ceremony of these desolate Indians a strong imitation, or near resemblance of the Jewish customs?