An account has already been given of the conjuror spearing himself in the breast during the Sedna ceremony, and appearing no whit the worse for it shortly afterwards. Although this extraordinary action may often perhaps be simulated by a trick, (the performer concealing a bladder of blood under his tunic and merely stabbing that), there seems to be sufficient evidence that such feats are within the compass of the genuine practitioner. No less authority than Dr. Boas gives an instance of an Angatok, on the island of Utussivik, who thrust a harpoon through his body and was led through the village by twenty-five men. Another conjuror, at a place called Umanaqtuaq, on finishing his incantations, “jumped up and rushed out of the hut, to where a mounted harpoon was standing. He threw himself upon the harpoon, which penetrated his breast and came out at the back. Three men followed him, and holding the harpoon line led the Angatok, bleeding profusely, to all the huts in the village. When they arrived again at the first hut, he pulled out the harpoon, lay down on the bed, and was put to sleep by the song of another Angatok. When he awoke after a while he showed the people he was not hurt, although his clothes were torn and they had seen him bleeding.” (Monograph on the Central Eskimo, by Dr. Boas.) The underlying idea in the treatment of all sickness (as distinguished from accident) being that some spirit is offended and is punishing the delinquent, it becomes necessary to discover what custom has not been complied with or what observance has been omitted, or what prohibition has been neglected. The science of divining what spirit, too, is antagonised, comprises perhaps the whole volume of Eskimo fetish and superstition. The conjuror knows beforehand, of course, the character and the failings of any individual he may be called upon to attend. He makes a shrewd guess from hearsay what the man may have been doing, and by skilful questions and half accusations, manages pretty generally to get at the core of the matter and extort more or less genuine (if wholly irrelevant) confession. There are some crimes for which there is no forgiveness, such as having communion with the dead, especially the Toopelat, i.e., the earth-bound spirits of indifferent folk. If the sick man confesses to this, there is no hope of cure for him. Adown the long interrogatory we come upon a few questions which illumine the apparent nonsense of all the rest with gleams of good human sense and logic: Have you stolen from the sick? Have you greatly lied about your neighbours or your race? Have you been abusive to the old folk? And—for a woman—have you concealed a miscarriage?