A coolie, who was carrying my paint-box one evening, when I was returning home from the hills, was simply terrified at the prospect of being seized by the spirits.  He kept his mouth tightly closed, and stoutly declined to open it, for fear the spirits should get into him by that passage; and when, with the cold end of my stick, I purposely touched the back of his neck—­unperceived by him, of course—­he fled frightened out of his life, supposing it to have been a ghost.  He met me again on the high road in the plain, about half a mile farther on, and explained his conduct with the very truthful excuse, that “a spirit had seized him by the throat and shaken him violently, meaning at all costs to enter his mouth, and that it was to escape serious injury that he had fled!” When I told him that it was I who had touched him with the end of my stick, he sarcastically smiled, as if he knew better.

“No, sir,” said he; “honestly, I saw with my own eyes the spirit that assaulted me!”

The forms given to these spirits vary much, according to the amount of imagination and descriptive power of the persons who describe them.  Generally, however, they assume the forms either of repulsively hideous human beings, or else of snakes.  The best safeguard against them, according to Corean notions, is music, or rather, I should say, noise.  When possessed with a spirit, a diabolical row of drums, voices, bells and rattles combined is set agoing to make him depart without delay; while, on the other hand, little bits of dangling glass, tied to strings, small sweet-toned bells and cymbals, hanging in a bunch from the corners of the roof or in front of the windows and door, often by means of their tinkling—­a sound not dissimilar to that of an AEolian harp—­attract to the house the friendly spirits of good fortune and prosperity.  The latter are always heartily welcomed.

The very wind itself is supposed to be the breathing of a god-spirit with extra powerful lungs; and rain, lightning, war, thirst, food and so on, each possesses a special deity, who, if not invoked at the right moment, and in the right manner, may, when least expected, have his revenge against you.

The spirits of Cho-sen are very sensitive, and insist on being taken into notice.  Through astrologers, sorcerers and sorceresses they convey messages and threats to this person and to that—­generally the richer people—­whose errors may always be rectified or atoned for by paying a round sum down to these go-betweens, who are quite ready to assume the responsibility of guaranteeing a peaceful settlement of matters.  There are regular establishments kept by these sorcerers and sorceresses—­as a rule, outside the city walls—­where witchcraft is practised with impunity in all its forms.  These establishments are much patronised both by the poor and by the man of noble rank; and amidst the most excruciating howling, clapping of hands, violent beating of drums and other exorcisms, illnesses are got rid