concerning witches, it has been industriously
employed to the present day, and is employed
still on behalf of a great many fresh delusions.
As for the gentleman, whom truth is said to
shame, he claimed his distinct chapter in the
minds of old physicians, because, as the book
before us has it, he "can cause many diseases,
of the reasons whereof we are ignorant. Also
he can do this, or that; being subtile, he can
easily pass through all parts of the body,
which he can bind, pull back, or torment
otherwise."

Passing on now, as we follow the march of
high philosophy, to secrets of the sun and
moon; it may be worth while to understand,
as our forefathers taught, that "it is easie to
guess at the fortune of every year by the
stars, if a man consider twelve, nineteen,
eight, four, and thirty." Somebody wants to
know what luck he will have in 1853. Let
him consider 1841 (twelve years back), let
him consider 1834 (nineteen years back), and,
for the eight, four, thirty, let him look back
to the years 1845, 1849, and 1823. Let him
reflect on the nature of his fortune in each of
those years, look up his old diaries, combine
their results, and that will give him the
character of his fate in 1853. Jupiter is somehow
at the bottom of this, but we are too
modern and ignorant to understand the
author's explanation.

Among secrets concerning fire, are those
two facts connected with spermaceti and
brimstone already stated. Any one living in
the country, whom the croaking of the frogs
may trouble of a night, will doubtless be glad
to hear of a remedy: "Take the fat of a
crocodile, and make it up with wax while in
the sun, and make a candle of it, and light it
in the place where frogs are, and when they
see that, they will presently cease crying."
Where crocodile's fat cannot be had, "the fat
of a dolphin" will do. Prescriptions abound,
by the use of which men may appear to wear
the heads of asses, horses, dogs, or to resemble
elephants. There is a receipt also for making
"a faire light, that the house may seem all
full of serpents so long as the wick doth
burn." But we pass over these pleasant
methods of illumination, simply remarking,
that if our wise ancestors were right, the
volume now before us would procure a sudden
fortune to the lessees of Vauxhall. By the
use of some dozen kinds of cunningly prepared
lamps, the Royal Gardens might in good faith
be chronicled in its bills as a "scene of
enchantment." At one turn of a walk, all
visitors would show their heads, and at
another, none; in another grove they would be
elephants, and in another they would look
like angels. The Rotunda might be lighted
for a, diabolical effect, and the Dark Walk
illuminated brilliantly with dolphins' fat,
funeral cloth and Azimat, whose light makes
everybody invisible. This, again, is no bad
hint for a country tallow-chandler, who
supplies light to the ladies of a solemn village,
where he is annoyed by the neglect of any
gaieties that would create large orders for
composite or sperm: "To make women rejoice
mightily. Make candles of the fat of hares,
and light them, and let them stand awhile
in the middle where women are: they will
not be so merry as to dance; yet sometimes
that falls out also."

"It is a wonder that some report how that
the tooth of a badger, or his left foot bound
to a man's right arm, will strengthen the
memory." Boys, who have lessons to learn,
may like to know that fact; and teachers,
who have idle pupils, must not flog, but feed
them upon cresses. "Cresses eaten make a
man industrious." Young ladies, who believe
in their ancestors, will thank us for repeating
their opinion that the use of a ring, which
has lain for a certain time in a sparrow's nest,
will procure love. Nor need any dread the
penalties of matrimony, since the man who
carries with him a hartshorn "shall alwaies
have peace with his wife:" and also, "the
heart of a male quail, carried by the man, and
the heart of a female quail, by the woman,
will cause that no quarrels can ever arise
between them." The man who carries a
quail's heart in his pocket may face his wife,
and never have to feel his own heart quailing
underneath his ribs.

Old Parr dined probably upon serpents,
not, as is commonly reported, upon pills. "It
is known that stags renew their age by eating
serpents; so the phoenix is restored by the
nest of spices shee makes to burn in. The
pelican hath the same virtue, whose right
foot, if it be put under hot dung, after three
months a pelican will be bred from it. Wherefore
some physicians, with some confections,
made of a viper and hellebore, and of some
of the flesh of these creatures, do promise to
restore youth, and sometimes they do it." If
the Zoological Society has proper respect for
our ancestors, they will not delay to sow a
hot-bed with pelicans' feet. Young shoots
of pelican would be much more appropriate
beside the gravel-walks than your mere
vegetable pelargonium.

In the way of practice of medicine, we
moderns say that anything like scientific
principles, on which one can depend, have
only been attained in our own lifetime.
"Doctors differed," and bumped against each
other, only because all alike were feeling
through the dark. In our own day there is
light enough to keep doctors from differing
very grossly,—gross difference springing generally
more from the want of knowledge in
an individual than in the profession generally,
although there is yet a vast deal to be learned.
In the first century, Asclepiades dubbed the
medical system of Hippocrates, "a cold meditation
of death." Under Nero there arose
a Dr. Thessalus, who taught that Nature
was the guide to follow and obey in all
diseases; and, therefore, under his system
patients were simply to be liberally and