1 Father Matthew’s letter to Mr. Priessnitz.

“Cork, Sept. 25th, 1845.

“My dear Mr. Priessnitz,—Though this is the first time I have had the honour of writing to you, I look upon you as an old and much esteemed friend. This feeling has encouraged me to address you as such, and to solicit a favour. You have proved yourself the benefactor of the human family, and have much promoted the sacred cause of total abstinence. As a trifling mark of the high estimation in which I hold you, I presume to present the enclosed temperance medal. Condescend to accept it, and to wear it, and you will confer a deep obligation on, With profound respect, dear Mr. Priessnitz, Your devoted friend,

Theobald Matthew.”

2 The following letter, extracted from Miss Costello’s “Summer among the Bocages and Vines,” chronicles another melancholy instance of persecution:—

“Paris, Feb. 1641.

“My dear Effiat,

“While you are forgetting me at Narbonne, and giving yourself up to the pleasures of the court, and the delight of thwarting M. le Cardinal de Richelieu, I, according to your desire, am doing the honours of Paris to your English lord, the Marquis of Worcester; and I carry him about, or rather he carries me, from curiosity to curiosity, choosing always the most grave and serious, speaking very little, listening with extreme attention, and fixing on those whom he interrogates two large blue eyes, which seem to pierce to the very centre of their thoughts. He is remarkable for never being satisfied with any explanations which are given him, and he never sees things in the light in which they are shown him, you may judge of this by a visit we made together to BicÊtre, where he imagined he had discovered genius in a madman. If this madman had not been actually raving, I verily believe your marquis would have entreated his liberty, and have carried him off to London, in order to hear his extravagancies from morning till night, at his ease. We were crossing the court of the mad-house, and I, more dead than alive with fright, kept close to my companion’s side, when a frightful face appeared behind some immense bars, and a hoarse voice exclaimed, ‘I am not mad! I am not mad! I have made a discovery which would enrich the country that adopted it!’ ‘What has he discovered?’ I asked of our guide. ‘Oh,’ he answered, shrugging his shoulders, ‘something trifling enough; you would never guess it; it is the use of the steam of boiling water.’ I began to laugh. ‘This man,’ continued the keeper, ‘is named Solomon de Caus; he came from Normandy, four years ago, to present to the king a statement of the wonderful effects that might be produced from the invention. To listen to him, you would imagine that with steam you could navigate ships, move carriages—in fact, there is no end to the miracles which, he insists upon it, could be performed. The Cardinal sent the madman away without listening to him. Solomon de Caus, far from being discouraged, followed the Cardinal wherever he went with the most determined perseverance; who, tired of finding him for ever in his path, and annoyed to death with his folly, ordered him to be shut up in BicÊtre, where he has now been for three years and half, and where, as you hear, he calls out to every visitor that he is not mad, but that he has made a valuable discovery. He has even written a book on the subject, which I have here.[’] Lord Worcester, who had listened to this account with much interest, after reflecting a time, asked for the book, of which, after having read several pages, he said, ‘This man is not mad. In my country, instead of shutting him up, he would have been rewarded. Take me to him, for I should like to ask him some questions.’ He was according conducted to his cell, but after a time he came back sad and thoughtful. ‘He is indeed mad now,’ said he, ‘misfortune and captivity have alienated his reason, but it is you who have to answer for his madness: for when you cast him into that cell, you confined the greatest genius of the age.’ After this, we went away; and since that time he has done nothing but talk of Solomon de Caus.

“Adieu, my dear friend and faithful Henry.

“Make haste and come back, and pray do not be so happy where you are as not to keep a little love for me.

“Marion Delamore.”

3 “And this, I apprehend, accounts for its frequently curing the bite of a mad dog, especially if it be repeated for twenty-five or thirty days successively.”

4 Two ounces of water is sufficient for an infant; four ounces for a child of six years old; eight ounces for a youth of fifteen; and fifteen or sixteen ounces for an adult.

5 Dr. Schmidt, of Berlin, is of opinion, that the saliva, and not the gastric juice, is the digestive agent; and in this opinion he is supported by Dr. Beaumont, of America. Dr. Richers stated to me that he attended a lecturer who, from some defect, could only swallow a portion of his saliva; that in consequence, during the course of an hour’s lecture, he would throw off nearly a quart of saliva.

6 He drank nothing but water, and wore a bandage round his waist.

7 Mrs. Outas’ child was cured.