While the sporting fraternity is notoriously addicted to the hoodoo superstition, yet it is by no means confined to them alone. Not long ago a statement went the rounds of the newspapers to the effect that the superstitious wife of a certain well-known millionnaire had refused to go on board of their palatial yacht because one of the crew had been fatally injured by falling down a hatchway. In plain English, the accident had hoodooed the ship. But the power of the hoodoo would seem not to be limited to human beings, according to this statement, taken from the columns of a reputable newspaper: “A meadow at Biddeford, Maine, is known as the hoodoo lawn, for the reason that rain follows every time it is mowed, before the grass can be cured. It is said that this has occurred for twenty-five consecutive years.” To break the spell of the hoodoo, it is as essential to have a mascot, over which the malign influence can have no power, as to have an antidote against poisons. Therefore most ball-players carry a mascot with them. Sometimes it is a goat, or a dog, or again a black sheep, that is gravely led thrice around the field before the play begins. It is not learned whether or not the different kinds of mascot have ever been pitted against each other. Perhaps the effect would be not unlike that described by Cicero in his treatise on divination. He says there that Cato one day met a friend who seemed in a very troubled frame of mind. On being asked what was the matter, the friend replied: “Oh! my friend, I fear everything. This morning when I awoke, I saw, shall I say it? a mouse gnawing my shoe.” “Well,” said Cato, reassuringly, “calm yourself. The prodigy really would become frightful if the shoe had been gnawing the mouse.” Naval ships often carry a goat, or some other animal, as a mascot, in deference to Jack’s well-known belief in its peculiar efficacy; and in naval parades the goat usually gravely marches in the procession, and comes in for his share of the applause. Simple-minded Jack christens his favorite gun after some favorite prize-fighter. And why not? since the great Nelson, himself, carried a horseshoe nailed to his mast-head, and since even some of our college foot-ball teams bring their mascots upon the field just like other folk. The war with Spain could hardly fail of bringing to light some notable examples of the superstitions of sailors concerning mascots. The destruction of Admiral Cervera’s fleet, off Santiago de Cuba, by the American fleet, under command of Admiral Sampson, is freshly remembered. One of the destroyed Spanish ships was named the _Colon_. Twenty-six days after the battle, the tug-boat _Right Arm_ of the Merritt-Chapman Wrecking Company visited the _Colon_, for the purpose of raising the Spanish cruiser. The only living thing aboard was a black and white cat. For nearly a month it had been the sole crew and commander of the wrecked battle-ship.