neither himself nor his omens have the least controul: nevertheless he
finds it much easier to attribute them to these imaginary causes; he
therefore _deifies_ them; looks upon them as either his guardian angels,
or else as his most inveterate enemies. Having invested them with
supernatural powers, he becomes anxious to explain to himself their mode
of action; his self-love prevents his seeking elsewhere for the model:
thus he assigns them all those motives that actuate himself; he endows
them with passions; he gives them design--intelligence--will--imagines
they can either injure him or benefit him, as be may render them
propitious or otherwise to his views: he ends with worshipping them;
with paying them divine honours; he appoints them priests; or at least
always consults them before he undertakes any object of moment: such is
their influence, that if they put on the evil position, he will lay
aside the most important undertaking. The savage in this is never more
than an infant, that is angry with the object that displeases him; just
like the dog who gnaws the stone by which he has been wounded, without
recurring to the hand by which it was thrown.

Such is the foundation of man's faith, in either happy or unhappy omens:
devoid of experience, unaccustomed to reason with precision, fearing to
call in the evidence of truth, he looks upon them either as gods
themselves, or else as warnings given him by his other gods, to whom he
attributes the faculties of sagacity and foresight, of which he is
himself miserably deficient. Ignorance, when involved in disaster, when
immersed in trouble, believes a stone, a reptile, a bird, much better
instructed than himself. The slender observation of the ignorant only
serves to render him more superstitious; he sees certain birds announce
by their flight, by their cries, certain changes in the weather, such as
cold, heat, rain, storms; he beholds at certain periods, vapours arise
from the bottom of some particular caverns? there needs nothing further