now directed to the fact, that if we had read
—as we had not read—Reichenbach's second
treatise, we should have found that he not
only confirms what he before stated, but
pushes on his ground, by declaring that, with
more experience, he finds the sensitives to be
not at all confined to sickly constitutions;
that a very large proportion of the healthy
people whom we meet with in society, are
capable of seeing the phenomena of the odylic
light, and of confirming, in their persons, his
experiments. He states, that he now prefers
to experiment on healthy people, and that
he believes one-third of the population to be
sensitive.

We think it important not to omit giving
the experiments of Baron Reichenbach the
opportunity which this statement affords of
easy confirmation or rejection. If anything
near one person in three is sensitive; then it
is only necessary for an institution like the
Polytechnic, for example, to carry a large
magnet into its Lecture Theatre, to give to
the public a short preliminary sketch of
Reichenbach's doctrine, and then darken the
room effectually. Those who are sensitive to
the odylic light may then declare themselves,
and if they stand this test, more of Reichenbach's
experiments can readily be made.
Baron Reichenbach himself desires inquiry;
his facts are important; and it becomes all
good philosophers to repeat his experiments
as, and if, they are able.

  A CHILD'S HISTORY OF ENGLAND.
     CHAPTER THE FOURTEENTH.

IT was now the year of our Lord one thousand
two hundred and seventy-two; and
Prince Edward, the heir to the throne, being
away in the Holy Land, knew nothing of his
father's death. The Barons, however,
proclaimed him King, immediately after the
Royal funeral; and the people very willingly
consented, since most men knew too well by
this time what the horrors of a contest for
the crown were. So King Edward the First,
called, in a not very complimentary manner,
LONGSHANKS, because of the slenderness of
his legs, was peacefully accepted by the
English Nation.

His legs had need to be strong, however
long and thin they were; for they had to
support him through many difficulties on the
fiery sands of Asia, where his small force of
soldiers fainted, died, deserted, and seemed to
melt away. But his prowess made light of it,
and he said, " I will go on, if I go on with no
other follower than my groom!"

A Prince of this spirit gave the Turks a
great deal of trouble. He stormed Nazareth,
at which place, of all places on earth,
I am sorry to relate, he made a frightful
slaughter of innocent people; and then he
went to Acre, where he got a truce of ten
years from the Sultan. He had very nearly
lost his life in Acre, through the treachery of
a Saracen Noble, called the Emir of Jaffa,
who, making the pretence that he had some
idea of turning Christian and wanted to know
all about that religion, sent a trusty messenger
to Edward very often—with a dagger in his
sleeve. At last, one Friday in Whitsun week,
when it was very hot, and all the sandy
prospect lay beneath the blazing sun burnt up like
a great overdone biscuit, and Edward was
lying on a couch, dressed for coolness in only
a loose robe, the messenger, with his chocolate-
colored face, and his bright dark eyes, and
white teeth, came creeping in with a letter,
and kneeled down like a tame tiger. But,
the moment Edward stretched out his hand
to take the letter, the tiger made a spring at
his heart. He was quick, but Edward was
quick too. He seized the traitor by his
chocolate throat, threw him to the ground,
and slew him with the very dagger he had
drawn. The weapon had struck Edward in
the arm, and although the wound itself
was slight, it threatened to be mortal, for the
blade of the dagger had been smeared with
poison. Thanks, however, to a better surgeon
than was often to be found in those times,
and to some wholesome herbs, and above all,
to his faithful wife, ELEANOR, who devotedly
nursed him, and is said by some to have
sucked the poison from the wound with her
own red lips (which I am very willing to
believe), Edward soon recovered and was
sound again.

As the King his father had sent entreaties
to him to return home, he now began the
journey. He had got as far as Italy, when ha
met the messengers who brought him intelligence
of the King's death. Hearing that all
was so quiet at home, he made no haste to
return to his own dominions, but paid a visit
to the Pope, and went in state through
various Italian Towns, where he was welcomed
with acclamations as a mighty champion
of the Cross from the Holy Land, and
where he received presents of purple mantles
and prancing horses, and went along in great
triumph. The shouting people little knew
that he was the last English monarch who
would ever embark in a crusade, or that
within twenty years every conquest which
the Christians had made in the Holy Land
at the cost of so much blood, would be won
back by the Turks. But all this came to
pass.

There was, and there is, an old town standing
in a plain in France, called Chalons.
When the King was coming towards this
place on his way to England, a wily French
Lord, called the Count of Chalons, sent him
a polite challenge to come with his knights
and hold a fair tournament with the Count
and his knights, and make a day of it with
sword and lance. It was represented to the
King that the Count of Chalons was not to
be trusted, and that, instead of a holiday
fight for mere show and in good humour, he