of Mr. Jonathan Wild the great, nicknamed
"Langfanger," who was rather hard of hearing,
and mistook the order to cut the visitors'
throats for one to cut their purses, which he
did instanter.

Gravely again, Roger tells us that, in the
year 464, the Britons, disconsolate at the
grievous tyranny of the Saxons, sent
messengers into Britain to Aurelius Ambrosius
and his brother Uterpendragon, beseeching
them to come and extirpate Hengist.
Likely enough: but why does the imprudent
Roger, reversing his own trustworthiness,
like a cow kicking over a bucket of her
own milk, tell us that King Vortigern,
hearing of the proposed expedition of
Uterpendragon, called together his magicians to
take counsel as to what was to be done under
the circumstances. That the magicians
advised him to build a strong tower of defence
for himself and friends, and that he
commenced one near a certain Mount Erir; but
that, as soon as the masons began to build,
the earth swallowed up every night what
they had done in the day. That, on his
inquiry as to the causes of this architectural
failure, the magicians advised him to seek
out a youth without a father, and to sprinkle
the mortar and stones with his blood, which
would give solidity to the work. That, the
fatherless youth being found at Carmarthen,
he turned out to be the son of the King of
Demicia's daughter, his papa having basely
deserted and left him chargeable to his
parish. That, astonished at this recital,
the King called to the youth and asked
for his card. That he was no other than
the Döbler or Robert Houdin of his epoch,
the marvel-working Merlin Ambrosius; that
utterly (and wisely I think) repudiating the
notion that the irrigation of the tower with
his blood was in any way necessary to its
stability, he up and said: "Command thy
magicians to come before me, and I will
convict them of inventing lies; for, not
knowing what is under the foundation of thy
work, they thought to satisfy thee by falsehood.
But call thy workmen, my lord and
king, and command them to dig into the
earth, and thou shalt discover a pool underneath,
which is the cause that thy work doth
not stand." That this being done, all was
found exactly as Merlin had said, whereupon
he up again, and said to the magicians, "Tell me
now, ye base sycophants, what there is lying at
the bottom of the pool?" That the incapable
magicians were, at this query, familiarly so
to speak, dumbfoundered. That, for the
third time, Merlin up again and said: "Give
orders that the pool may be drained, and
thou wilt find at the bottom two dragons
asleep in them." That the pool was emptied,
the dragons found, and the magicians brought
to great shame and confusion. I sincerely
hope they were, and that Merlin, through the
success which had attended his ingenious
clairvoyance, obtained an extended connection
as a professor of prestidigitation, and
exhibited his skill to numerous and
distinguished audiences.

In the year of grace 561, Roger would fain
have us believe Saint Brandon flourished in
Scotland, for which, in the manner of the
country, we are told to read Ireland; the
Irish being anciently known as Scots. What
"flourishing" was, literally, I never could
well understand; unless, indeed, the Saints
really nourished and convoluted their limbs
and heads from side to side, as their effigies
do in monumental brasses, painted windows,
and in certain performances of the
pre-Raffaelite school. However, Saint Brandon
flourished, and for about seven years went
flourishing about the world in quest of the
Fortunate Islands, which it is almost
superfluous to say he did not find. Machutus,
who accompanied him, was famous for his
miracles and sanctity; though how far these
eminent qualities could have been available in
what appears to have been a sort of
filibustiering expedition in quest of gold
diggings, I am unable to determine. Being
exasperated by the Britons, it occurred to
Saint Brandon to show his miracles and
sanctity by cursing them; through which the
miserable Britons suffered many plagues and
grievous afflictions. But Saint Brandon was
not only a man of miracles and sanctity, but
a saint possessing no ordinary degree of
prudence; for, after cursing the Britons, he
wisely "passed over to Gaul, where, under
Leontius, Bishop of Saintonge, he was eminent
for his many virtues." Subsequently, Saint
Brandon appears to have relinquished the
character of an ecclesiastical Sam Hall, and
to have uncursed the Britons, who thereupon
throve and prospered exceedingly.

In 563, Priscian, the grammarian and
orator (whose head has been so frequently in
need of vinegar and brown paper, these last
thirteen hundred years), flourished at Rome.
He turned the Acts of the Apostles into
hexameter verse. Very good; very credible,
Roger: there is a respectable amount of
verisimilitude in this statement; but why
do you destroy your own credit by telling
that in 562 a mountain on the river Rhone
bellowed for many days, and then jumped
into the river, with "many churches, houses,
men and beasts?"—that in the year 573,
the Spaniards and the Gauls disagreed
concerning the observance of Easter, the
Spaniards keeping it on the twenty-first of
March, and the Gauls on the eighteenth of
April, that it was "miraculously " proved
that the Gauls were in the right, inasmuch
as all the fonts in Spain which were wont to
be "miraculously" filled on Easter Sunday,
did so "miraculously" and spontaneously
fill themselves on the day answering to the
computation of the Gauls?

How are we to believe after these thy
"sornettes," that in 585 began the kingdom of
the Mercians, whose first king was Credda—