Since the dawn of intelligence, man has tried to judge the unknown from the analogies given by what he knows best, that is to say, by his own self. Thus he came to attribute to everything around him qualities like his own qualities, and motives like his own motives. He came to think not only that all living beings were possessed of will and intelligence, but that inanimate things conducted themselves like human beings. Such a primitive idea is the basis of what Tylor has called “Animism,” the foundation of the philosophy and religion of savage and civilised man alike. When a man was seen to die, it was plain that he did not entirely disappear, but merely became transformed into a new condition. The dead body was not alive as we are, but, none the less, it was alive in a fashion of its own. This was the answer to the desire for the preservation of life, to the fear of death, that is to say, of total extinction. It is practically identical with faith in immortality and a future life. The animistic conception is almost world wide. It is plain that it afforded the most efficacious palliative for minds revolting against the inevitability of death, and that it harmonised with our intense will to live. “Such child-like ignoring of death,” wrote Tylor,[162] “such child-like make-believe, that the dead can still do as heretofore, may well have led the savage to bury with his kinsman the weapons, clothes, and ornaments that he used in life, to try to feed the corpse, to put a cigar in the mouth of the skull before its final burial, to lay playthings in the infant’s grave. But one thought beyond would carry this dim blind fancy into the range of logical reasoning. Granted that the man is dead, and his soul gone out of him, then the way to provide that departed soul with food or clothes or weapons is to bury or burn them with the body.”