Acosta’s account of the Mexican custom is perhaps the best instance we now possess of the ritual of cannibal mystic sacrifice in its fullest barbarity. “They took a captive,” says that racy old author, “at random; and before sacrificing him to their idols, they gave him the name of the idol to whom he should be sacrificed, and dressed him in the same ornaments, identifying him with the god. During the time that the identification lasted, which was for a year in some feasts, six months or less in others, they reverenced and worshipped him in the same manner as the idol itself. Meanwhile, he was allowed to eat, drink, and make merry. When he went through the streets, the people came forth to worship him; and every one brought alms, with children and sick people that he might cure them and bless them. He did as he pleased in everything except that he had ten or twelve men about him, to prevent him from escaping. In order that he might be reverenced as he passed, he sometimes sounded upon a small flute, to tell the people to worship him. When the feast arrived, and he had grown fat, they killed him, opened him, and making a solemn sacrifice, eat him.” There, in the words {323}of a competent authority, we have the simple cannibal feast in its fullest nakedness. I need hardly point out how much this account recalls the Khond custom of the Meriah. The victim, though not really of royal blood, is made artificially into a divine king; he is treated with all the honours of royalty and godhead, is dressed like the deity with whom he is identified, and is finally killed and eaten. The last point alone differs in any large degree from the case of the Meriah. We have still to enquire, “Why did they eat him?” The answer to this enquiry takes us into the very heart and core of the sacramental concept. _It is a common early belief that to eat of any particular animal gives you the qualities of that animal_. The Miris of Northern India prize tiger’s flesh for men; it gives them strength and courage; but women must not eat it; ’twould make them “too strong-minded.” The Namaquas abstain from eating hare; they would become faint-hearted if they swallowed it; but they eat the meat of the lion or drink the blood of the leopard, in order to gain their strength and courage. Among the Dyaks, young men and warriors must not eat deer; it would render them cowardly; but women and very old men are allowed to eat it. Men of the Buro and Aru Islands feed on the flesh of dogs in order to be bold and nimble. Mr. Frazer has collected an immense number of similar instances, which show both how widespread and how deep-seated are such beliefs. Even scrapings of the bones are sufficient to produce the desired result; in Corea, the bones of tigers fetch a higher price than those of leopards as inspirers of courage. The heart of a lion is also particularly good for this purpose; and the tongues of birds are recommended for eloquence.