Professor Webster of Philadelphia, was wellnigh
exhausted, and could not be got of the
apothecaries in England at any price, and so it
was hoped that no person able to pay two
shillings and eight pence "would ask them to send
the botanic medicine for nothing;—I say, when I
added this, the old lady, for the first time since
my marriage with her lovely daughter, was
positively rude, and said she did not believe one
word of it! As became a model son-in-law, I
answered not back in anger, and engaged to
write for the recipe, but assured her she would
receive the same response as I had received,
and several small volumes of certificates attesting
the sovereign power of the medicine. All
this turning out just as I had foretold, the
old lady, not a bit dashed, was about to send
the paltry two shillings and eightpence for " the
wonderful Susquehanna root," when I
succeeded in persuading her to defer doing so
until the Botanic Institute should answer the
following letter, which on the spot I indited:

"TO THE SECRETARY OF THE BOTANIC INSTITUTE.

"Sir. I have the honour to acknowledge
the receipt of recipe for cure of dyspepsia and
indigestion, and accompanying certificates, which
you were so kind as to send me without request;
and I beg leave to say that, being an American
citizen and a resident of Philadelphia and well
acquainted with Susquehanna county, I am
equally surprised and rejoiced to learn that it
has contributed so much to the cause of
humanity. It is greatly to be regretted that
your supply of the invaluable 'Susquehanna
root' is so limited. Believing that my
native land is as prolific as it is favoured in
variety, and being desirous to contribute all
in my power for the relief of mankind from that
dire pest, dyspepsia, I beg of you, a fellow
humanitarian in the noble cause of charity and
good works, to forward me a small specimen
or sample of the wonderful ingredient, which I
may carry to America. May be that in some
region of that broad land I shall be able to
discover more of it, and, perhaps, an abundant
supply of it. In which case l shall be charmed
to offer it, as you do, gratuitously to our suffering
fellow-beings.

"I must acknowledge that the fame of
' Professor Webster,' of Philadelphia, had not until
the receipt of your circular been made known
to me; and yet, that is not so strange, when we
remember the scriptural words, 'A prophet has
no honour in his own country.'  Mine is a land
of vast extent, unparalleled in scientific
discovery; and it may be readily believed that in
the rivalry of enterprise many worthy men are
compelled to look for fields of appreciation and
usefulness to foreign climes. History furnishes
many remarkable illustrations in point, and I
now recal the case of a beloved and deceased
friend, who in vain sought to popularise in
America an opera he claimed to have
composed; failing there, because his countrymen
doubted the originality of the work, he carried
the opera to Italy and France, where its true
merits were at once recognised, for, by the
unanimous voice of the press and cognoscenti, it
was pronounced a bad plagiarism and wholesale
piracy. Such is the envy of man.

"I confess to a thrill of happy emotion when
again, after an absence of seven years from
Europe, I read in the newspapers your old
familiar words of good tidings for the
unfortunate, and am free to say that such proofs of
benevolence and purest unselfishness go far to
redeem the depravity of poor human nature.

"Noble men! Members of the Botanic
Institute of Nottingham! The great American
continent salutes you, and bids you God speed
in this sublime and glorious work! Who so
poor or so mean as to withhold the petty two
shillings and eightpence for sixty pills of such
rare virtue, and produced from the Susquehanna
root, discovered by the great Professor Webster!
Send me, then, the small specimen, that I may
seek through America for new supplies, and
perhaps we shall be able to furnish the pills at
two shillings and sevenpence the box.

"Yours in the cause of Philanthropy,

"F. G. Y."

* * * * *

Yesterday was the fifth day since the above
was posted, and my respected belle-mère (in
more senses than French) having a thousand
times expressed her belief in the infallibility of
the English mail, is today sad and thoughtful,
and I fear a little distrustful of the Botanic
Institute.

P.S. Since the above was written, the sample
of the Susquehanna root has arrived, and for a
few hours the old lady was triumphant; but,
complying with my urgent wishes, she has
carried it to six eminent apothecaries, who
unanimously pronounce the article to be the powder
of some common bark, almost tasteless and
much like to a poor quality of cassia which has
lost its savour, and is utterly wanting in medical
virtues. She is now writing to the Nottingham
Botanic Institute, asking if the secretary has
not made a mistake and sent the wrong powder?

IS IT POSSIBLE?

THE expression may seem a strong one;
nevertheless, history bears out the bold assertion that
there are few things in the world easier to
accomplish than a declared impossibility. Any
gentleman addicted to compilation might
produce, in a very short space of time, a handsome
volume descriptive of schemes and theories
which—during, say, the last hundred years have
been authoritatively pronounced impracticable—
are now in full swing, and provoke no more
astonishment than the phenomenon of a hansom
cab.

That craven spirit, so ready with its
impossibilities, has, fortunately, two results—a good
as well as a bad. If, on the one hand, it
discourages the more timid class of philosophers, it
stimulates the bolder to more minute and determined