appeased the Turks, that they offered him a
pipe, and wanted to dismiss him. But he soon
broke out again, and asked for the sacrament.
He also asked for some soup. Both were
given to him, the Turks offering no opposition
to the administering of the former.
When, however, he once more began to curse
and revile the prophet, some fanatic proposed
that he should be shortened by having an
inch cut from his body every time he
blasphemed, beginning at his feet. The Cadi
shuddered, and interposed, saying, that such
a proceeding would be contrary to the law;
which provided that a renegade should be at
once put to death, that the faith of Islam
might not be insulted. Then the mob got a
cord to hang him. Like many other things
in Turkey, this cord does not seem to
have been fit for the purpose to which
it was applied; and the struggles of the
maniac were so violent that it broke. But
they did hang him at last; thus completing
the title to martyrdom with which he has
come down to us. For three days his hanging
body offended the daylight, and the simple
country folk cut off bits of his clothes for
relics. After a while he was carried away,
and buried with a great fuss; the Turks
having too profound a contempt for the
Greeks to interfere with their doings in any
way. Then, after awhile, application was
made to the Patriarch of Constantinople
to canonize the mad house-painter; and
canonized he was. His body was disinterred,
and mummified with great care. It is
wrapped up in cotton, and the head is
inclosed in a silver case. Both are shown
to the devout on the anniversary of his
martyrdom. The cotton sells well, for it
is said to have worked many miracles,
and to be especially beneficial in cases of
epilepsy.

The anniversary of the Martyrdom of
St. Theodore occurred on the same day
as his brother's funeral. I asked if the
reputation of the saint had anything to
do with the honours paid to his brother?
"Yes," was the answer, " the relatives of
the saint are naturally anxious to keep
up his reputation; which is like a patent
of nobility to them. None dare to offer
them injury or wrong, for fear of the martyr's
anger.

For the rest, the festival of St. Theodore
was as pretty a sight as I would wish to
see.

His body was enshrined in a neat temple
of green leaves, and was placed in the
centre of the church. The pilgrims arrived
at dead of night to pray there. They
were mostly women, and seemed earnest
enough in what they were about. I did not
like to see them, however, buying those
little bits of cotton which lay mouldering
round the mummy, and putting them into
their bosoms.

The church was well lighted; for Mitylene
is an oil country. Innumerable lamps hung
suspended from the roof everywhere, and
some were decorated with very pretty
transparencies. If you shut your eye for a minute,
they seemed to open on fairy land rather
than reality. The hushed scene, the stillness
of which was only broken by the pattering
feet of some religious maiden approaching the
shrine, shawled and mysterious, even here,
had something very quaint and fanciful in it.
I could have stopped there all night watching
them as they passed, dropping buttons
(substitutes for small coin given in churches) into
the salver of a dingy priest, who sat in the
aisle, tablet in hand, to receive orders for
masses to be said for the sick or the dead. I
liked to watch the business manner in which
he raised his reverend hand to get the light
well upon his tablet, and adjusted his
spectacles as he inscribed each new order from
the pilgrims. At last, however, he gathered
up his buttons and money, tying them
in a bag; and glancing round once more in
vain for customers, he went his way into the
sacristy. I followed his waddling figure with
my eyes till the last lock of his long hair,
which caught in the brocaded curtain, had
been disentangled, and he disappeared. Then,
as the active individual in rusty black, whom
I have mentioned as so busy in the ceremony
of the morning, seemed desirous of having
a few minutes' conversation with me, I
indulged him. It was not difficult to perceive,
from the tenor of his discourse, that he was
desirous of receiving some token of my
esteem in small change. It cost little to
gratify him; and then, as the church was
quite deserted, we marched off together.

LEGS.

IT has always struck me that a great
void exists in popular physiology, from the
comparative neglect with which it has treated
the legs of mankind. Many and heavy folios
have been written on the subject of the
heart, the brain, the nerves, and the lungs.
Some men have thrown themselves on
the kidneys with admirable spirit and
perseverance; a very large section of medical and
physiological writers have devoted themselves
to the stomach with an ardour and erudition
worthy of our sincerest admiration; while
others have attacked blood with a keen gusto
and relish that have been productive of the
most gratifying results to the cause of science.
Sir Charles Bell wrote an elaborate and
delightful treatise on The Hand. Still we
are lamentably deficient in our knowledge
of The Leg. Satisfied with the possession of
that indispensable member, our pathologists
and physiologists seem to consider it as
quite unworthy of attention; and, but for
a few meagre treatises on the gout and
on varicose veins, an occasional advertisement
"To those with tender feet," emanating