In these cases, though the supernatural being may be out of reach, that does not hinder men and women from pitting their _orenda_ against his; and as soon as the storm {180} or the eclipse comes to an end they naturally vaunt their success. In the form of wind indeed he may be held to descend to actual blows with his human opponents. Professor Frazer has collected a number of examples of fighting the storm and the whirlwind.[180.1] Nor are those examples confined to such as already recounted. Even in Europe eddies and gusts of wind are attacked without hesitation by peasants, whether Scottish, Breton, German, Slav, or Esthonian. A small whirlwind of the kind with which we are all familiar is believed to be caused by a witch, who is carried along unseen at its centre, and may be revealed and rendered harmless by launching some object, preferably a knife, into it. In the Tirol a knife of special form is used for the purpose, on the blade of which are engraved nine St Andrew’s crosses and nine crescent moons. It wounds the witch as surely as the harpoon in the Basque tale cited at the beginning of this essay.[180.2] Here and in many of the other instances the supernatural being is regarded as actually hostile. At certain stages of evolution there is, however, as little hesitation in turning upon a god with whom one is usually on terms of friendship and submission. We have had some examples of this. A god may provoke a worshipper, and human nature will not always put up with the provocation. When he is found in tangible shape as an idol his {181} aggrieved client may even resort to corporal chastisement. Dr Farnell refers in this connection to the passage in the seventh idyll of Theocritus, where the poet mentions the whipping of the image of Pan with squills when food was scarce, and to a Breton smith “who threatened the saint’s image with red-hot pincers to compel him to heal his son.”[181.1] The two practices thus put together are not strictly parallel. Originally at least they were widely different in purpose, though they have some outward resemblance. To beat the image of Pan with squills was not to punish the god for neglect of duty, but to bring him into touch with the powers of growth, to drive out the barrenness that possessed him and to recreate his fructifying forces. It was a magical means of restoring his life-giving properties. It may have been to some extent, like punishment, a relief to the feelings of the beater; but the chief object is unmistakably shown by the ritual requirement to beat with squills.[181.2] It would seem, however, as if this had been forgotten by the time of Theocritus; for in the following lines (not cited by Dr Farnell) the poet goes on to threaten stinging with nettles in case of the god’s recalcitrance, as if this were the same sort of petty torment.