We have in Shetland annual visits of that beautiful a large flock of them were winging their way over the island of Unst to the solitary lakes of Iceland, to which they migrate yearly for the purpose of incubation. A flight of swans is an interesting and attractive sight; the majestic birds soaring on their powerful pinions, and uttering their pleasing inspiriting cry, which seems to breathe the very essence of eager expectation and cheering encouragement. Or, is it that we but imagine this? for these, to the natives of Shetland, are the first notes of returning spring, like those of the cuckoo in more favoured latitudes. Sometimes the swans fly so high as to be invisible; yet at that season we always hear their cheerful voice, and seek not to repress in our bosoms the throb of joy that responds to their note. It rarely happens, when these beautiful birds alight for a little rest upon one of our small lakes, that they escape without leaving a few victims sacrificed to man's cupidity. I may just stop to remark, that, as a general rule, we do not allow any young sportsman, over whom we have any control, to kill birds during their breeding season. Pigeons and plovers are then suffered to pursue their task unmolested; and it is not until they again begin to congregate in flocks, that we cast a thought on our game pies. Probably the far-sighted reader will perceive as much policy as sentiment in this self-denying procedure. But this is a digression. I was going on to say that a flock of swans rested on our largest inland lake, and a respectable native of the neighbourhood, with his dog and gun, hastened to have a shot at them. The birds seemed wearied with the storms they had encountered; the air was heavy, the wind light and contrary, so that they could not easily rise. Fortunately for them, there were no boats on the lake. The noble birds kept the dogs which assailed them at bay, and beat them at swimming; while, by keeping to the middle of the sheet of water, the gun-shot could not reach them; so, after a long chase from dawn till night, they were left in quiet for a few hours. The sportsman slept by the lake side, and he slept soundly. But he was awaked in the early dawn by the triumphant cry and loud sound of pinions, and starting up, he was just in time to see the swans taking advantage of a favouring breeze, majestically rise, and speed their way to the north, in which direction, we may easily imagine, the disappointed sportsman looked long and wistfully, but in vain. thusiastic cragsman renewed his search; and after a patient cowering among the rocks in the face of the pre-bird, the wild swan. A few years ago, early in spring, cipice, he saw the eagles engaged in feeding their young, but in a place which appeared altogether beyond his reach. Difficulties seemed only to nerve my undaunted friend to fresh efforts; and after many attempts, he at last reached the wished-for spot. He saw three eggs in the nest; but, made wise by experience, he resolved to wait till they were hatched, and contented himself with carefully marking the situation, and the safest approach to it. It was not always that, daring as was our cragsman, the state of the rocks, of the weather, and of his own feelings, permitted him to make the dizzy attempt. At length, last season he accomplished it. On reaching the place, he perceived the white tail of the parent bird, as brooding on the nest it projected over the shelf of rock on which she had built. With dauntless bravery, perceiving that she was not aware of his approach, he flung himself on the back of the powerful and ferocious bird. She seemed to be at once cowed and overcome by the might and majesty of man, before whose glance we have been often told the fiercest beasts of the desert quail. In what a situation was our adventurer now! standing on a flat ledge of rock, a few feet square, a precipice overhanging a hundred feet above him, while underneath, at six times that distance, roared the abyss of ocean, and screaming overhead soared the male eagle, as if hesitating whether or not to attack the spoiler. We can hardly imagine a more dreadful, nay, sublime position; but the cool courage and self-possession of the cragsman carried him safely through the adventure. First he twisted the strong wings of the bird together; loosening one garter, with it he bound her bill, and with the other her legs. Thus fettered and gagged, she lay quietly at his mercy, and he paused a moment to draw breath, and ask himself if it were possible that he had accomplished a feat so extraordinary. Much he wished to preserve his captive uninjured, to make his triumph appear the more questionless and complete; but thus loaded, he could not have attempted the dangerous path by which he had to return; so, after a few anxious cogitations, he threw his prize over the precipice. Bound and helpless, she dashed from rock to rock as she fell, till she rested on a point which he knew was quite easily accessible to him, and then he took his eager and joyful, though, to any other than himself, hazardous path, to where she lay, struggling yet with the remains of life, so that it became a matter of humanity to finish her death at once. Her bereaved mate followed the successful spoiler on his homeward way that evening, soaring low, and screaming fearfully; but he has never been seen since. To his indulgent landlord the adventurer carried his extraordinary prize, and told his tale with modest enthusiasm, receiving a handsome present when he had finished, as well as unqualified praise for his brave and daring deed. On a solitary stony hill in the middle of the island of Unst (the most northerly of the Shetlandic group), is frequently seen the snowy owl, a rare and noble bird, the largest of the genus Strix. It is a native of North America, Lapland, and Norway; but it is very rarely seen in Britain, except in the locality above-mentioned, where it is found at all seasons. This hill is plentifully strewed with its pellets, or those balls of feathers and hair which birds of prey eject from their stomachs as the indigestible remains of their meals. After diligent search, their nest has never been met with; but it is reasonably supposed that the breeding-place is somewhere in the island, as young ones have also been seen, or what were taken to be such, from their darker colour. The Shetland peasants have a superstitious hatred of these birds. Few ornithologists visit that remote quarter, and therefore they remain pretty much unmolested. The male adult snowy owl is a large and powerful animal, nearly quite white; the female is rather larger, and more numerously spotted with dusky gray. We have, in the Shetland isles, another rare bird, much asked after by ornithologists-the skua gull, called sometimes Richardson's skua. It is the largest of the gull tribe, and of a dark-brown colour. Not above five years since, from the unsparing depredations of collectors, and other causes, this family of birds was almost extinct, being reduced to three individuals; but by the protection of the proprietor of the promontory where they breed in Unst, they have now increased to at least twenty pairs. The promontory or enclosure here alluded to is the most northerly point of the British isles, and during the summer months, no sight can possibly be more interesting and extraordinary than what is here presented. The whole ground (as well as the precipitous banks, which on three sides overhang the sea) is literally covered with the nests of innumerable sea-fowl of various species, so that the unwonted visitor is apt to tread on them before he is aware, and is each moment in danger of being struck by the wings of the parent birds, which, alarmed for the safety of their progeny, dash over his head, and almost in his face, while their screams are absolutely deafening. Contrasted with this animated picture, when the birds have migrated for the winter, how bleak and desolate is the aspect of the scenery, from whence such multitudes of the inhabitants of the rocks and sea have fled for a time, leaving only a forlorn wilderness, which erewhile had swarmed with innocent and lovely forms of animated life, engaged in their most interesting and important avocations. From the nests in this locality, we have frequently procured, and afterwards domesticated, the skua gull. He is not, however, a very 'TEN pounds!' exclaimed John Hawker, as he refolded a letter and put it into his inmost pocket, for fear it should be seen by his wife. Ten pounds lost -gone-and I shall never be able to make it up again. Oh dear, what will become of me?' John Hawker's anxiety was so intense, that it broke out in a profuse perspiration, and he was wiping his brow when his wife entered the little parlour. He turned pale, his lip quivered, and he laid hold of a chair to steady with a dread equivalent to contemplating poison. Not that Mr and Mrs Hawker lived unhappily together; far from it: for, apart from the shop, Mrs Hawker was a pattern of conjugal affection:-the wife was amiable, attentive, and kind, but the shopwoman was imperious, exacting, inflexible! We left John peeping under the curtain of the little shop parlour. He watched the motions of the customer and his wife with intense suspense, trembling lest it should come out that he had received the money. The buyer and seller were in close conversation, but it was evidently on indifferent topics. Presently Mrs Hawker's brow darkened; the customer produced a paper, which was not unlike, in outward appearance, John's own receipt! He could look no longer, and sunk into the nearest chair, overpowered with bounced into the room with terrible haste. She never dread. His hour was surely come; for his wife heard of such a thing! The dishonesty of some people was really shocking! Your brother,' continued the dame, actually had the impudence to ask Mrs Thompson to lend him ten pounds, when he knew he was going to leave the country, and could never repay it.' 'Indeed!' replied John, feigning astonishment, but in reality suddenly delighted to find he was yet safe; and that paper she showed you was→→→→→→ himself, lest she should see how much he trembled. 'I don't wish them any harm,' added Mrs Hawker benevolently, and hope they will do better as emigrants to Australia than they could do here. But I doubt it, John: a man with a wife and three children in a foreign country stands but a poor chance. However, we shall see.' Mrs Hawker's remarks were cut short by the shrill voice of the errand boy exclaiming 'Shop!' and she bustled out to serve a customer. When his wife retired, John drew aside the green curtain, and peeped through the glass door to see who the customer might be; a practice which he had invariably indulged in during the last month-ever since, in fact, he had clandestinely lent his brother the fatal ten pounds. To his horror, the individual who was being served with the various articles in which he was licensed to deal, proved to be the customer whom of all others he dreaded most to find in communication with his wife. The truth is, poor John, being only a cipher in his own chandlery business, had committed a kind of fraud-or rather it would have been a fraud, if it were possible for a man to swindle himself. The customer now in the shop had paid him an account, and instead of duly handing the proceeds over to the head of the firm (in other words, to his 'good lady'), he lent them to his brother. From that moment peace was banished from his breast. The fear of being found out haunted him constantly. In ordinary cases, a man would have lent the cash in spite of his wife, and boldly owned the deed. But John's was not an ordinary case. In matters of business, he was so completely under uxorial control, that he would have looked on such a disclosure 'His letter soliciting the accommodation. Not that think the Thompsons are able, if willing, to be so generous, for they have not yet paid us their last half year's account.' Though once more experiencing the delights of temporary relief, John Hawker determined, when his wife returned to her shop duties, to devote all the energy of his mind to staving off to a still more distant period the catastrophe he so much dreaded. He pored over the ledger, which he luckily kept, to pick out some bill which he could safely present, and get paid, so as to transfer the money to the Thompsons' account, and thus close it. After a long search, he selected a twelve-pound bill owing by Mr Staple, the timber merchant. He knew the cash would be immediately forthcoming, and lost no time in applying for it. John found Staple sitting alone over his wine after dinner, and was not slow in accepting his invitation to sit down and take a glass. The conversation turned, as usual, on the hardness of the times-a subject on which John invariably expressed himself with great despondency. Staple, who was a peculiarly goodhearted literally, and knowing that he and his wife were person, construed the grocer's lamentations deserving people, offered to be of any assistance. An idea instantly darted into John's brain (which, it must be owned, was never fertile in expedients) that had never before entered it. Would Staple, besides paying his account, lend him ten pounds? The wine inspired him with courage, and he asked the favour-it was not denied-and John Hawker experienced a feeling of ease and security he had been a stranger to for more than a month. Still, the pleasure was not without its alloy; to remove which it was necessary to solicit another, and, as he thought, a greater favour. He asked, in a tone of intreaty that was not to be resisted, if Mr Staple would be good enough not on any consideration to mention the transaction to his wife?" Staple faithfully promised. But there is one thing,' continued the lender, about which I am extremely parlet me have the money again before the 25th of March, ticular, and that is punctuality of payment. You must for on that day I make up my accounts.' As this was three months to come, John faithfully promised, and joyfully departed with the money in his pocket. For some time past, Mr Hawker's despondency had been the talk of the town; but since his visit to Staple, his spirits had so manifestly improved, that it gave the neighbours a new theme for their gossip. At length, after many guesses, they thought they discovered a cause for John's unusual liveliness in the prosperity of the grocery establishment. The lord of the manor had come to reside on his estate, and made a point of confining his custom to the tradesmen of the town, none of whom felt the benefit of Lord Winter's patronage so extensively as the Hawkers. Had, however, their acquaintances known the truth, they would have perceived that this accession of good fortune brought no benefit to John himself; for, in proportion as the business flourished, so did the managing partner's vigilance increase. Mrs Hawker looked narrowly into the state of the books every night, calculated the profits, withdrew them from the till, and kept them under lock and key with the most exact and unbending regularity. In this state of things there appeared but a small prospect of John being able, either by fair means or foul, to scrape together Staple's ten pounds by the day he had promised to return it; and as the time approached, his despondency and terror returned. Seeing no prospect of averting a forfeiture of his word to his friend, he never met him without descanting more dolefully than ever on the hardness of the times and the badness of trade. Staple sincerely pitied him, but hoped he would be punctual in his payment on Lady Day. As Mrs Hawker had few weaknesses, she may be readily forgiven for one which she possessed in a predominant degree. Considering herself, perhaps justly (for her father was an attorney), somewhat above her present station in life, she had a habit of boasting and making as much pretension to gentility as she possibly could. Hence it was not unnatural that, out of the increased profits of trade, she should treat herself with a new bonnet oftener than heretofore; should fit up her 'first-floor front,' as she called it, in a superior style, and make certain other additions to the household expenses, as were fully warranted by the flourishing state of the business. Now, all this ought to have made John Hawker all the happier; but, alas! it augmented his misery. The 25th rapidly approached, and his good lady was spending the money which ought, in strict justice, to be saved for liquidating the loan. On Sunday she appeared at church in a new tuscan bonnet, with blue trimmings, which was the envy and admiration of the surrounding congregation-at least of the female part of it. Conscious of the effect she had produced, Mrs Hawker was, on her way home, peculiarly chatty to all and sundry of the town gossips. Amongst others, she and her husband were joined by Mr Staple, who, after a well-turned compliment to the lady's blooming looks and elegant attire, turned to John, remarking that times could not be so desperate after all. John presented his longest face, and assured his friend that business was as bad as it could be, that money was very scarce, and there was no end to the difficulties now-a-days of making ends meet. From this, however, Mrs Hawker decidedly dissented. For her part, she was perfectly satisfied with things as they were, and had no notion of living in the hugger-mugger way that some people would live in if they could have their will. Indeed she was fitting up the front drawing-room in a genteel manner, that they might occasionally see their friends in a social way. Poor John! in vain were all his nudges and looks of intreaty to admonish her to change the subject. Every word uttered by her belied the plea of poverty he was constantly putting in to Staple; but being on a favourite topic, Mrs Hawker still went on. "There was a carpet, for instance, I bought at Tod's A cheap Kidderminster merely,' remarked the grocer. Not at all cheap!' observed the lady tartly; for when I buy things, I like them good and serviceable. One don't buy a carpet every day; do we, Mr Staple?' Mr Staple hoped not. 'I am in treaty for a sofa with Morrison the broker, but—' 'But you know, my dear,' interrupted John in an insinuating tone, we cannot afford it." I'll see about that, Mr Hawker,' said the groceress, if I can only get Morrison down to my price." 'Well, well, you know best,' returned John, who felt that he had carried his contradictions as far as he dared. Here Staple turned to go off towards his own house, and on parting, Mrs Hawker pressed him to drop in some evening in a friendly way. We have just got two dozen of gold-coloured sherry down from London.' 'I am delighted to find you are getting on so well in the world,' remarked Staple as he shook hands. By this time John was completely bewildered; but quickly awoke to a sense of his situation, when his friend added significantly, I suppose I shall see you on the twentyfifth, John ?' John was too frightened to reply, so Staple went away without receiving an answer. So, so,' said Mrs Hawker in a tone of severe inquiry; what is going on on the twenty-fifth?" John made a mighty effort to utter-Nothing.' 'Nothing! eh, John? as if I did not know Staple of old. But take care, if you do dine with him on that day, you don't come home in the state you did last Christmas. Indeed, if I were you, John, I would not go at all.' Alas! John only wished he might have it in his power for once to disobey his better half; but as he saw not the smallest prospect of being able, with any face, to visit his friend on the day named, he faithfully promised that he wouldn't. Oh that ten pounds! Again the neighbours noticed that John Hawker had relapsed into the old state of melancholy; neither was this overlooked by his wife. It was in vain she tried to rouse him-vain were her treats after supper of little tumblers of the gold-coloured sherry and warm water; for every drop John swallowed, he felt as if he were committing a fraud on his only creditor. Vain was her triumph over Morrison the broker, when she succeeded in getting the sofa at her own price; for John shared not in her exultation. How,' thought the wretched grocer, 'can I face Staple, when the news of the outlay comes to his ears?' How indeed? Conscience makes cowards of us all; but never did it make an individual so timid as John Hawker. The certainty of being unable to keep his engagement troubled him with a morbid dread of meeting his creditor. For three weeks before the appointed day he feared to leave his shop, lest he should encounter Staple on the street; and feared to stay at home, lest Staple should call. On one or two occasions, when he could invent no reasonable excuses for going errands of business for his head partner, he was observed to turn the corners of every street with the utmost caution, taking a careful survey of its passengers before he ventured to enter it. Once, when he thought he saw Staple approaching him, he darted down a blind alley; and another time, when labouring under a similar delusion, he rushed into a doctor's shop, and asked for a certain drug with so much incoherency of manner, that the dispenser refused to supply him. At length the awful twenty-fifth arrived! Still, all John's tribulation was groundless, for he heard nothing from Staple. But who could foretell the sweeping catastrophe which may be awaiting him? Was the creditor nursing up all his wrath till the default of payment had been actually committed? Would he, in violation of his pledge, tell Mrs Hawker? John's hair stood on end at the bare anticipation. But no, no; he knew Staple better-never was so strict a man of his word. He may go to law for the debt-resort, in fact, to great extremities to get it paid; but the last extremity of all-the divulging the secret to his wife-was a piece of malice John felt would never be hurled against him-and John was right. The twenty-fifth passed over; the next day; the twenty-seventh, and not a word from Staple about the ten pounds. This silence was ominous; it boded either great good or dire evil. On the twenty-eighth, however, John's terrible suspense was put an end to. Staple had gone to London on some pressing business! Perhaps,' said John, the first moment he found himself alone, while rubbing his hands with such ecstatic violence that his linen shop-sleeves looked like a couple of white ribbons perhaps,' he exclaimed, 'Staple has forgotten the ten pounds!' From the moment this egregious improbability possessed the mind of John Hawker, his spirits exhibited symptoms of fresh elation. Whenever his wife had a commission for him to execute out of doors, instead of making all manner of excuses for getting off the job, he surprised her by the alacrity with which he undertook it. He walked along the streets with a bold step and confident air, never dreaming of looking round the corners. Nay, he even ventured once or twice past Staple's own house, although he had previously gone many a mile out of his way to avoid it. these excursions this comfortable condition of mind was On one of doomed to receive a severe check. John met the postman, who placed in his hands a letter. at the post-mark, and turned pale; it was from LonHe glanced don. With a cautious step, but trembling hand, he sought out the most retired part of the road, and broke the seal. Sure enough it was from Staple. After upbraiding the grocer for breaking his word, the writer gave him peremptory notice, that unless the ten pounds were paid 'immediately' (and under this word were scored three very conspicuous dashes), the affair would be put into the hands of an attorney-a London attorney; for Staple was unwilling to expose the defaulter to his neighbours by employing one belonging to the town. It is truly said that no situation is so desperate but it is possible to extract some comfort out of it; and though the terrors of the law too surely awaited the miserable shopkeeper, yet one shred of satisfaction remained;–it was evident that Staple didn't mean to tell his wife. While safe from such a disclosure, John felt almost strong enough to defy the law. It was well he was thus fortified; for exactly a week after the receipt of the epistle, while he was serving in the shop, a small slip of paper was thrust into his hand by a stranger who came in under pretence of inquiring the price of mottled soap. Luckily, at that moment Mrs Hawker's back was turned (for she was weighing off treacle), and John was able to crush the memorandum in his palm, and thrust it under his apron-string without detection. When an opportunity occurred of perusing it in secret, he found that it was nothing less than the copy of a writ. 'Troubles,' says a much-used adage, are nothing when you are used to them;' in other words, the constant contemplation or experience of severe misfortunes blunts their poignancy. for woes as well as for friends; and this was the case Familiarity breeds contempt with John Hawker. So long had his mind been tortured with the idea of having borrowed ten pounds, and being quite unable to pay it, that familiarity with that fact hardened his despondency into a sort of desperate recklessness and disregard of consequences-a patient but bewildered awaiting for the worst, come when it would. He did wait, and in due time let judgment go by default. He was no longer a free member of society; his liberty was at the mercy of the sheriff of the county! In these circumstances, another man would have chosen the least of two evils-he would have preferred telling his wife to going to prison. 'Tis true that in moments of extreme excitement several wild schemes entered his head. He had thought of robbing the till, and even of running the country; but to give himself up to eternal domestic discord, by divulging his secret, was too dreadful to be contemplated. 167 Staple pursued him to the last extremity; and one morning, while the devoted chapman was mechanically Exasperated at John Hawker's obstinate silence, checking off an invoice in the parlour, a rough-looking man entered the shop. Luckily, a customer was engaging Mrs Hawker's attention, and on the stranger inquiring for her husband, she desired him to 'step in.' The moment the parlour door was opened, and John's eyes fell on the entrant, he saw it was all over with him. He first shut the door and then the ledger, took I suppose I must go with you?' he remarked in a tone of resignation that would have done honour to a off one of his short sleeves, and looked for his hat. martyr. pocket-book; 'you labour under a mistake; this writ'and he exhibited a long slip of parchment-this writ is 'Oh no,' answered the man, pulling out a very dirty not a capias. I have not come to take your body; we only want the goods-that's all.' The what?' asked John aghast; 'the goods? the fur niture ?' of it as will cover the debt and costs.' lady' took such pride, and felt that he would much off his greatcoat, and sat in a chair to make himself poor John, grasping the stranger's shoulder with un- your goods and chattels, and you can keep me here if thoughtfully. But you will have to live and sleep here; of yours just come home from sea ?' But I have no cousin at sea.' sion, as they call us, are obliged to turn anything to accommodate parties. When I get into great people's 'Then we must try something else. Men in possesthey are waited on by a sheriff's man. houses, they put me in livery, and visitors little think the family; but I always find the cousin from sea to I pretend to be a single-man lodger, who boards with In other houses something; your wife's a-coming! Have you no relaanswer best. tions abroad?" Make haste,' he added, and think of fortunes darted into his mind, and John had just enough Mrs Hawker entered the parlour. gination so successfully, that for a time he deceived tremble. The guest, however-who boasted, and not untruly, that he had seen a good deal of life-made himself, during the rest of the day, so agreeable to his hostess by a little adroit flattery, that after supper she produced the gold-coloured sherry, and caused a bed to be made for him on the new sofa in the best room. As for poor John, he went about the house next day like a man in a dream. The little wit he usually possessed was completely frightened out of him, and only returned when something happened that tended to awaken his good lady's' suspicions, and consequently his own fears. For instance, the stranger's story concerning the departed brother turned out, on cross-examination, to be rather incoherent. Sometimes John was said to have four nephews, instead of two; at others, his brother had gone to New Zealand, instead of to Australia; till at length the lady's suspicions were so effectually roused on the sixth day, that she told John confidentially she believed the man was an impostor, and hinted the expediency of consulting some intelligent constable. This gave the husband a new fit of dread. He bore up against it as long as he could; but at length, when the man in possession was detected smoking a pipe up the kitchen chimney, the 'good lady' vowed she would submit to be deceived no longer. John's agony was now worked up to such a pitch, that he was seized with a violent fever, and symptoms of incipient insanity. But here the rigid shopwoman relaxed into the affectionate wife. All her attentions were centred in her husband: the doctor was sent for, and every minute to be spared from the shop was passed at his bedside. The stranger made himself too useful to be thought unkindly of; but still he had a duty to perform, and the ninth day was to-morrow! The doctor's report to Mrs Hawker tended to hasten on the crisis, which seemed inevitable. He said that John's disease was mental, rather than physical; that it was evident he had something on his mind-something awful! Upon this Mrs Hawker intreated her husband to unbosom himself. She tried all that endearment and coaxing could do; and three several times did John essay to divulge his secret, but on each occasion his heart failed him, and he was silent. As it turned out, it was perhaps fortunate that he remained so; for at this, the eleventh hour, succour was at hand! At the very moment that Mrs Hawker was making the third endeavour to extract the secret from her husband, who should enter the shop but the brother who, it was supposed, had emigrated! Having quarrelled with Mrs Hawker, he declined seeing her, but desired to have an interview with his brother alone. This he had; and related that, having gone to London to embark on board the emigrant ship, he accidentally met Lord Winter's land-steward, who dissuaded him from so rash a step, wrote to his lordship, and he had given him the situation of bailiff. So, as I have no passage-money to pay, I can return the ten pounds after all.' This question was answered by a rambling account of all poor John had endured for his brother's sake. The man in possession was called up stairs; the money (debt and costs) paid; the deception he practised on Mrs Hawker was favoured and strengthened by the brother, who corroborated his story; and John's peace of mind and health were completely restored. Since this transaction, John and his wife have got on so well in the world, that they talk of retiring from business. They live most happily together; for Mrs Hawker continues to have it all her own way. John is MEDICAL SUPERSTITIONS. PERHAPS no class of superstitions exhibits human credulity and weakness in a broader light than that connected with the history of medicine and surgery. Until within a comparatively recent period, the medical prac tice of our own country was little else than a tissue of superstitious beliefs and speculative conceits; and such, even at the present day, is the character of the healing art in many parts of the world. Like other general features in the history of mankind, these beliefs are founded upon certain principles in our natureerring through that ignorance which progressive experience and reason are destined to dissipate. Man naturally seeks to avoid disease, from the pain which it creates, and the consequent fear of death urges him to grasp at any proffered remedy. His own anxiety, increased by that of his friends, makes him prone to believe; and credulity is a weakness ever ready to be practised upon by the selfish and designing. Thus quackery and empiricism originate. There is, however, another cause of the superstitious in medicine equally general with that already mentioned-namely, the unknown origin of many of the maladies which assail us. The causes of external injuries are seen and known; those of internal or constitutional disease are obscure. In rude ages, such afflictions are regarded as judgments, and the work of malignant spirits; hence charms, incantations, and divinations, are the curative means resorted to. If the patient die, it is his fate; if he survive (whether from the disease having run its course, or from the force of imagination acting upon his bodily system), the charm is considered efficacious; and what is said to have cured one, it is but reasonable to apply to thousands. Thus it is that empiricism and superstition get established, and retain their hold even long after science has taught us to laugh at their absurdity. It may, therefore, be curious, and not uninstructive, to collect a few details respecting past medical practice, and its still surviving superstitions. One of the earliest and most prevalent of these beliefs was that which attributed medical virtues to rings made of certain metals, and fabricated after a certain fashion. It was a custom in England, as early as the time of the Plantagenets, for the king on a particular holiday every year to bless cramp-rings at the church of Westminster, which rings were preserved by the people with the greatest care, as specifics against the disorder from which they took their name. Van Helmont, who wrote in the latter part of the seventeenth century, affirms that he was possessed of a metal, of which, if a ring were made and worn, not only the pain attendant upon hæmorrhoids would cease, but that in twenty-four hours, whether internal or external, they would vanish altogether. This faith in metal rings is still far from being extinct, as we learn from the subjoined notice forwarded to us by a silversmith in an English provincial town: "Some time ago, a young man of about twenty-five years of age, evidently in a bad state of health, came to my shop, wishing me to make him a strong ring out of several pieces of silver which he brought with him. By questioning him a little, I ascertained that he had been long subject to fits; that nothing which he had hitherto tried had afforded him any relief; and that he had been advised by a neighbour to try a charm, which she had known to be efficacious in several instances. The charm was, that he must beg seven different pieces of silver from seven different persons; that a strong ring must be made containing a part of each of the pieces; that the person who made it must have no other reward for his labour than the pieces which were left after the ring had been made; that he must wear the ring upon the fore finger of the right hand, and that he might then have no further fear of a recurrence of fits. The young |
