the clouds, particularly the dark rain and thunder clouds. True, the heavenly bodies may manifest demoniacal powers, just as may also the gods. As a rule, however, celestial phenomena are far from belonging to the class of demons proper; they are too constant and too regular in their changes and movements to be thus included. The activity of demons relates exclusively to the welfare of man. Hence it is but natural that demons should be primarily man's co-inhabitants on earth. Usually invisible, they assume sensuously perceptible forms only in the darkness of night, or, more especially, under the influence of heightened emotions. Sometimes they are audible even when invisible. Only in those narratives which tell of demoniacal beings that are not immediately present do demons acquire fairly definite forms. Thus, even soul beliefs--which the fear of the uncanny activity of the departed soul transforms directly into a sort of demon belief--represent the soul in the form of a bird, a snake, or of other specific 'soul animals.' The demons of sickness lurking within the diseased body are usually portrayed as fantastic animals, whose monstrous forms reflect the terrible distress and the torturing pains of sickness. These animals hinder respiration and bore into and lacerate the intestines. Thus, they objectify both the pain of the sickness and the fear aroused in the community by the behaviour of the sick person. No less, however, can the impression of the desert, the dark forest, the lonely ravine, or the terror of an approaching storm cause demons, which are in first instance invisible, to assume definite shapes. Where there is a more highly developed sense of nature, such as begins to manifest itself in the heroic age, this objectification of impressions occurs not only under the influence of strong excitement but also in connection with the peaceful landscape. Here it gives rise to more friendly beings, in the case of whom those characteristics, at least, which made the original demon an object of terror, are moderated so as to find expression in magic of a playful sort. This is the origin of satyrs, sylphs and fauns, of gnomes, giants and dwarfs, elves, fairies, etc., all of whom are debarred from personality by their very multiplicity, while their generic character accurately reflects the mood which led to their creation. The individualization of certain of these beings is, in general, due to poetry. But even poetry does not entirely succeed in freeing the demon from the generic character which once for all represents its nature. Thus, it is the contrast between genericalness and individual personality that differentiates the demon from the god. Every gnome resembles every other, and all nymphs are alike; hence these beings are generally referred to in the plural. Their multiplicity is such that they are imaged in only indefinite forms, except in cases where particularly strong emotions excite a more lively imagination.