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The precautions which may be taken against injury by Nereids have already been briefly noticed. Amulets, garlic, the sign of the cross, the invocation of saints—all these are common and suitable prophylactics. But above all, in the actual moment when imminent danger is suspected, the lips, as Phaedrus was reminded by Socrates, and also the eyes should be close shut; for in general the principle obtains that the particular organ by which there is converse or contact with the Nereids is most likely to be impaired or destroyed. Apart from this, there is no precaution more specially adapted for self-defence against the Nereids than against the evil eye or any other baneful influence; and with these I have already dealt[339].

But when these precautions are neglected or fail, the mischief wrought by the Nereids is not necessarily permanent; there are several cures which may be tried. Sometimes prayers (but not, so far as I know, a formal exorcism such as the Greek Church provides for diabolic possession) are recited by a priest over the sufferer in the church of some suitable saint; or a trial may be made of sleeping in a church which possesses a wonder-working icon. Sometimes an offering of honey-cakes sent or carried to the spot where the misfortune occurred suffices to turn the Nereids from their wrath and wins them to undo the hurt that they have done; on such an errand however the bearer of the offering must beware of looking back to the place where he has once deposited it, lest a worse fate overtake him than that which he is trying to dispel[340]. Theodore Bent[341] gives full details of such an offering made in the island of Ceos. ‘For those,’ he writes, ‘who are supposed to have been struck by the Nereids when sleeping under a tree, the following cure is much in vogue. A white cloth is spread on the spot, and on it is put a plate with bread, honey, and other sweets, a bottle of good wine, a knife, a fork, an empty glass, an unburnt candle, and a censer. These things must be brought by an old woman who utters mystic words and then goes away, that the Nereids may eat undisturbed, and that in their good humour they may allow the sufferer to regain his health.’ How mystic may be the words of a Cean witch, I cannot say; but the formula to be used by mothers in Chios in the event of a similar misfortune to a child is extremely simple: ‘Good day to you, good queens, eat ye the little cakes and heal my child’—καλημέρα σας, καλαὶς ἀρχόντισσαις, φᾶτε σεῖς τὰ κουλουράκια καὶ ’γιάνετε τὸ παιδί μου[342]. But the most frequent and most efficacious method of cure (with which the offering of honeycakes may be combined) is for the sufferer to revisit the scene of his calamity at the same hour of the same day in week, month, or year, when by some capricious reversal of fate the presence of the Nereids is apt to remove the hurt which it formerly inflicted.