MEDICAL SUPERSTITIONS.

“When cats run home, and light is come, And dew is cold upon the ground, And the far-off stream is dumb, And the whirling sail goes round, And the whirling sail goes round; Alone and warming his five wits The white owl in the belfry sits.”—Tennyson.

Medicine, above all the other sciences, was founded upon superstition. Medicine, more than all the other arts, has been practised by superstitions. Stretching far back through the vista of time to the remotest antiquity, reaching forward into the more enlightened present, it has partaken of all that was superstitious in barbarism, in heathenism, in mythology, and in religion.

In showing the Alpha I am compelled to reveal the Omega.

Let us begin with Jupiter. I know that some wise Æsculapian—no Jupiterite—will turn up his nose at this page, while to-morrow, if he gets a patient, he will demonstrate what I am saying, and further, help to perpetuate the ignorant absurdities which originated with the old mythologists, by placing “?”—the ill-drawn sign of Jupiter—before his recipe.

THE GOD OF RECIPES.

De Paris tells us that the physician of the present day continues to prefix to his prescriptions the letter “?,” which is generally supposed to mean “recipe,” but which is, in truth, a relic of the astrological symbol of Jupiter, formerly used as a species of superstitious invocation, or to propitiate the king of the gods that the compound might act favorably.

There are still in use many other things which present prima facie evidence of having been introduced when the users placed more faith in mythological or planetary influence than in any innate virtue of the article itself. For instance, at a very early period all diseases were regarded as the effects of certain planetary actions; and not only diseases, but our lives, fortunes, conduct, and the various qualities that constitute one’s character, were the consequences of certain planetary control under which we existed. Are there not many who now believe this?

“In ancient medicine pharmacy was at one period only the application of the dreams of astrology to the vegetable world. The herb which put an ague or madness to flight did so by reason of a mystic power imparted to it by a particular constellation, the outward signs of which quality were to be found in its color or shape.” Red objects had a mysterious influence on inflammatory diseases, and yellow ones on persons discolored by jaundice. Corals were introduced as a medicine, also to wear about the neck on the same principle.

These notions are not yet obsolete. Certain diseases are still attributed to the action of the moon. Certain yellow herbs are used for the jaundice and other diseases. The hepatica triloba (three-lobed) is recommended for diseases of the lungs as well as liver (as its first name, hepatica, indicates), and some other medicines for other complaints, without the least regard to their innate qualities. Corals are still worn for nose-bleed, red articles kept about the bed and apartments of the small-pox patient, and the red flag hung out at the door of the house, though few may know why a red flag is so hung, or that it originated in superstition.

The announcement of an approaching comet strikes terror to the hearts of thousands; the invalid has the sash raised that he may avoid first seeing the new moon through the glass, and the traveller is rejoiced to catch his first glimpse of the young queen of the night over his right shoulder, “for there is misfortune in seeing it over the left.”

But we are not yet done with ancient symbols.

“The stick came down from heaven,” says the Egyptian proverb.

“The physician’s cane is a very ancient part of his insignia. It has nearly gone into disuse; but until very recently no doctor of medicine would have presumed to pay a visit, or even be seen in public, without this mystic wand. Long as a footman’s stick, smooth, and varnished, with a heavy gold head, or a cross-bar, it was an instrument with which, down to the present century, every prudent aspirant to medical practice was provided. The celebrated gold-headed cane which Radcliffe, Mead, Askew, Pitcairn, and Baillie successively bore, is preserved in the College of Physicians, London. It has a cross-bar, almost like a crook, in place of a knob. The knob in olden times was hollow, and contained a vinaigrette, which the man of science held to his nose when he approached a sick person, so that its fumes might protect him from the disease.”

The cane, doubtless, came from the wand or caduceus of Mercurius, and was a “relic of the conjuring paraphernalia with which the healer, in ignorant and superstitious times, always worked upon the imagination of the credulous.” The present barber’s pole originated with surgeons. The red stripe represented the arterial blood; the blue, the venous blood; the white, the bandages.

The superstitious ancients showed more wisdom in their selections of names, as well as in emblems, than we do in retaining them. Heathen worship and mythological signs are mixed and interwoven with all our arts, sciences, and literature. Our days of the week were named by the old Saxons, who worshipped idols—the sun, moon, stars, earth, etc., and to their god’s, perpetual honor gave to each day a name from some principal deity. Thus we are idolaters, daily, though unconsciously.

I think not one person in a thousand is aware of this fact; therefore I give a sketch of each.

Sunday.

The name of our first day of the week, Sunday, is derived from the Saxon Sunna-dÆg, which they named for the sun. It was also called Sun’s-dÆg.

SUN—Sunday.

As the glorious sunlight brought day and warmth, and caused vegetation to spring forth in its season, warmed the blood, and made the heart of man to rejoice, they made that dazzling orb the primary object of their worship. When its absence brought night and darkness, and the storm-clouds shrouded its face in gloom, or the occasional eclipse suddenly cut off its shining, which they superstitiously attributed to the wrath of their chief deity, it then became the object of their supplication. With them, and all superstitious people, all passions, themes, and worships must be embodied—must assume form and dimensions, and as they could not gaze upon the dazzling sun, they personified it in the figure of a man—as being superior to woman with them—arrayed in a primitive garment, holding in his hand a flaming wheel. One day was specially devoted to sun worship.

The modern Sunday is the day, according to historical accounts of the early Christians, on which Christ rose from the dead. It does not appear to have been the same day as, or to have superseded, the Jewish Sabbath, although the Christians early celebrated the day, devoting it to religious services. With the Christians, labor was suspended on this “first day of the week,” and Constantine, about the year 320, established an edict which suspended all labor, except agricultural, and forbade also all court proceedings. In 538 A. D. the third Council of Orleans published a decree forbidding all labor on Sunday.

The Sabbath (Hebrew Shabbath) of the Jews, meaning a day of rest, originated as far back as Moses—probably farther. It was merely a day of rest, which was commanded by Jehovah; and if considered only on physiological grounds, it evinces the wisdom and economy of God in setting apart one day in seven to be observed by man as a season of rest and recuperation. As such it only seems to have been regarded till after the forty years of exile, when it changed to a day of religious rites and ceremonies, which is continued till the present day by “that peculiar people.” That particular day, given in the “law of Moses,” corresponds—it is believed by the Jews—to our Saturday. Christ seemed to teach that the Jewish Sabbath was no more sacred than any other day, and he accused the Pharisees with hypocrisy in their too formal observance thereof. He attended their service on the Sabbath, on the seeming principle that he did other meetings, and as he paid the accustomed tax, because it was best to adapt one’s self to the laws and customs of the country.

We do not purpose to enter into any theological discussion as to which of the two days should be observed for rest and religious observances; for who shall decide? Physiologically considered, it makes no difference. There should be one day set apart for rest in seven at the most, and all men should respect it.

Without a Sabbath (day of rest) we should soon relapse into a state of barbarism, and also wear out before our allotted time. “In the hurry and bustle of every-day life and labor, we allow ourselves too little relaxation, too little scope for moral, social, and religious sentiments; therefore it is well to set apart times and seasons when all cares and labors may be laid aside, and communion held with nature and nature’s God.” And it were better if we all could agree upon one day for our Sabbath; and let us call it “Sabbath,” and not help to perpetuate any heathen dogmas and worship by calling God’s holy day after the idolatrous customs of the ancient Saxons.

Monday.

The second day of the week the Saxons called MonandÆg, or Moon’s day; hence our Monday.

This day was set apart by that idolatrous people for the worship of their second god in power. In their business pursuits, as well as devotional exercises, they devoted themselves to the moon worship. The name MonandÆg was written at the top of all communications, and remembrance had to their god in all transactions of the day. Each monath (new moon or month) religious (?) exercises were celebrated.The idol MonandÆg had the semblance of a female, crowned or capped with a hood-like covering, surmounted by two horns, while a basque and long robe covered the remainder of her person. In her right hand she held the image of the moon.

MOON—Monday.TUISCO—Tuesday.

Tuesday.

The third object of their worship was Tuisco—corresponding with German Tuisto—the son of Terra (earth), the deified founder of the Teutonic race. He seems to have been the deity who presided over combats and litigations; “hence Tuesday is now, as then, court-day, or the day for commencing litigations.” In some dialects it was called Dings-dag, or Things-day—to plead, attempt, cheapen: hence it is often selected as market-day, as well as a time for opening assizes. Hence the god Tuisco was worshipped in the semblance of a venerable sage, with uncovered head, clothed in skins of fierce animals, touching the earth, while he held in his right hand a sceptre, the appropriate ensign of his authority.

Thus originated the name of our third day of the week, and some of its customs.

WODEN—Wednesday.

Wednesday.

This day was named for Woden,—the same as Odin,—and was sacred to the divinity of the Northern and Eastern nations. He was the Anglo-Saxons’ god of war, “who came to them from the East in a very mysterious manner, and enacted more wonderful and brilliant exploits of prowess and valor than the Greek mythologists ascribed to their powerful god Hercules.” As Odin, this deity was said to have been a monarch (in the flesh) of ancient Germany, Denmark, Scandinavia, etc., and a mighty conqueror. All those tribes, in going into battle, invoked his aid and blessing upon their arms. He was idolized as a fierce and powerful man, with helmet, shield, a drawn sword, a gyrdan about his loins, and feet and legs protected by sandals and knee-high fastenings of iron, ornamented with a death’s head.

THOR—Thursday.FRIGA—Friday.

Thursday.

From the deity Thor our Thursday is derived. This Saxon god was the son of Woden, or Odin, and his wife Friga. He was the god of thunder, the bravest and most powerful, after his father, of the Danish and Saxon deities.

Thor is represented as sitting in majestic grandeur upon a golden throne, his head surmounted by a golden crown, richly ornamented by a circle in front, in which were set twelve brilliant stars. In his right hand he grasped the regal sceptre.

Friday.

The sixth day of the week was named in honor of Friga, or Frigga, the wife of Woden and the mother of Thor. In most ancient times she was the same as Venus, the goddess of Hertha, or Earth. She was the most revered of the female divinities of the Danes and Saxons. Friga is represented draped in a light robe suspended from the shoulder, low neck and bare arms. She held in her right hand a drawn sword, and a long bow in the left. Her hair is long and flowing, while a golden band, adorned by ostrich feathers, encircle her snowy brow.

There is nothing in the name or attributes to indicate the ill luck which superstition has attached to the day.

SEATER—Saturday.

Saturday.

The god Seater, for whom the last day of the week is named, is the same as Saturn, which is from Greek—Time.

He is pictured, unlike Saturn, with long, flowing hair and beard, thin features, clothed in person with one entire garment to his ankles and wrists, with his waist girded by a linen scarf. In his right hand he carries a wheel, to represent rolling time. In his left hand he holds a pail of fruit and flowers, to indicate young time as well as old. The fish which is his pedestal represents his power over the abundance of even the sea.

Christmas Festivals.

Amongst the very pleasant and harmless customs which have been handed down to us from the idolatrous rites and superstitions of the ancient Saxons, Scandinavians, etc., are those connected with our Christmas festivities. The whole observance and connections form a strange mixture of Christian and heathen ceremonies, illustrative of the unwillingness with which a people abandon pagan rites to the adoption of those more consistent with the spirit of a Christianized and enlightened faith.

Now, little folks and big, I am not going to ridicule or deny your right to Christmas and St. Nicholas enjoyments; I will merely hint at their origin, for your own benefit. The day brings more happiness—and folks—to the homes and firesides of the people of the whole world than any other holiday we celebrate.[6] Thanksgiving, you know, is mostly a New England custom. The 25th of December is just as good as any other day on which to have a good time. Ancient people used to celebrate the first and sixth of January. The first three months of the year are named after heathen gods.

The name of the day we celebrate is derived from a Christian source: the rest from pagan. A good feeling was always engendered amongst the most ancient people at the commencement of the lengthening of days in winter, and the approach of a new year. The hanging up of the mistletoe, with the ceremony of gathering it, the kindling of the Yule log, and giving of presents, we trace to the Druids, who were the priests, doctors, and judges of the ancient Celts, Gauls, Britons, and Germans. Our modern stoves and furnaces have shut out the pleasant old log fires, and the candles only remain. The gifts originated in the giving away of pieces of the mistletoe by the grizzly old priests.

Who St. Nicholas was, is only conjectured, not known, any more than who St. Patrick was. It makes no difference where he sprang from; he is a good, jolly, benevolent fellow, who brings lots of presents, and, with the little folks, we are bound to defend him.

It is supposed that the original St. Nicholas lived in Lycia, in Asia Minor, during the fourth century, and was early adopted as a saint of the Catholic church, and also by the Russians and ancient Germans, Celts, and others.

“He has ever been regarded as a very charitable personage, and as the particular guardian of children. Great stories are told of his charity and benevolence. One of these, and that, perhaps, which attaches him to the peculiar festivities of Christmas, is to the effect that a certain nobleman had three lovely daughters, but was so reduced to poverty that he was unable to give them a marriage portion, as was the indispensable custom, and was about to give them over to a life of shame. St. Nicholas was aware of this, and determined in a secret way to assist the nobleman.

“He wended his way towards the nobleman’s house, thinking how he could best do this, when he espied an open window, into which he threw a purse of gold, which dropped at the nobleman’s feet, and he was enabled to give his daughter a marriage portion. This was repeated upon the second daughter and the third daughter; but the nobleman, being upon the watch, detected his generous benefactor, and thus the affair was made public. From this rose the custom upon St. Nicholas Day, December 6, for parents and friends to secretly put little presents into the stockings of the children. Doubtless this custom, so near the festivities of Christmas, gradually approximated to that day, and become identical with Christmas festivities throughout the world. St. Nicholas is often represented bearing three purses, or golden balls, and these form the pawn-broker’s well-known sign, which is traced to this source as its origin—not, we should judge, from their resemblance to the charity of St. Nicholas, but emblematic of his lending in time of need.”

Popular Notions and Whims.

There was a superstition in Scotland against spinning or ploughing on Christmas; but the Calvinistic clergy, in contempt for all such superstitions, compelled their wives and daughters to spin, and their tenants to plough, on that day.

It is a popular notion to the present time in Devonshire that if the sun shines bright at noon on Christmas day, there will be a plentiful crop of apples the following year.

Bees were thought to sing in their hives on Christmas eve, and it was believed that bread baked then would never mould.

So prevalent was the idea that all nature unites in celebrating the great event of Christ’s birth, that it was a well received opinion in some sections of the old world that the cattle fell on their knees at midnight on Christmas eve.

Ridiculous Superstitions.

“Merlin! Merlin! turn again;
Leave the oak-branch where it grew.
Seek no more the cress to gain,
Nor the herb of golden hue.”

Merlin, the reputed great enchanter, flourished in Britain about the fifth century. He is said to have resided in great pomp at the court of “Good King Arthur.” You all know the beautiful rhyme about the latter, if not about “Merlin! Merlin!” etc.

“When good King Arthur ruled the land,—
He was a goodly king,—
He stole three pecks of barley-meal
To make a bag pudding.”

Sublime poetry! Easy mode of obtaining the barley-meal (or Scotch territory). Merlin attached many superstitious beliefs to some of our medicinal plants. The “cress” is supposed to be the mistletoe. “The herb of gold”—golden herb—was a rare plant, held in great esteem by the peasant women of Brittany, who affirmed that it shone like gold at a distance. It must be gathered by or before daybreak.

The most ridiculous part of the affair was in the searching for the “herb of golden hue.” None but devout females, blessed by the priests for the occasion, were permitted the great privilege of gathering it. In order to be successful in the search, the privileged person started before daylight, barefooted, bareheaded, and en chemise. (Of course the priest knew the individual, and when she was going.) The root must not be cut or broken, but pulled up entire. If any one trod upon the plant, he or she would fall into a trance, when they could understand the language of fowls and animals—a belief not half as ridiculous as that of the present day, that a person may fall into a trance, and understand the language of the dead; yes, dead and decayed, the organs of speech gone! Yet thousands believe such stuff to-day.

The Mandrake.—Great superstition was formerly attached to this root, and even now is, in some rural districts. The root often resembles the lower half of a human being, and it was credulously believed it would shriek and groan when pulled from its mother earth. This notion is expressed in Romeo and Juliet:—

“Mandrakes, torn out of the earth,
That mortals, hearing them, run mad.”

Again, in Henry VI.:—

“Would curses kill, as doth the bitter mandrake’s groans.”

GATHERING THE MANDRAKE.

A favorite mode of uprooting this coveted plant—because of its defensive properties, when once gained—was to fasten cords to a dog’s neck, thence to the base of the stem of the plant, and sealing their own ears with wax to prevent hearing the groans, which was death or madness, they whipped the unfortunate dog till he drew out the roots, or was killed in the attempt; for the dog usually died then or soon after the cruel beating, and the shrieks of the mandrake were supposed to have caused his death.

The Scabious, or “Devil’s bit,” was regarded with great superstition. “The old fantastic charmers,” said the quaint Gerarde, “say that the Devil bit away the greater part of this root for envy, because of its many virtues and benefits to mankind.” Dr. James Smith (1799) as quaintly observes, “The malice of the Devil has unfortunately been so successful, that no virtue can now be found in the remainder of the root or herb.”

House Crickets.—The superstition respecting these cheerful and harmless little chirpers is remarkable. Some consider their presence a lucky sign, others their absence more fortunate. To kill one, with some persons, is a sign of death in the house. Very strange! They, blind fools, do not see that the saying originated in the death of the poor little cricket.

The following very remarkable occurrence was related to the writer, as having actually taken place at Providence, R. I., a few years since. Mrs. D., a respectable lady, residing in the city, was reported to have been followed about the house and up stairs by a “cricket,”—a wooden one, used for a foot-stool. People called at her residence to inquire into the truth of the matter; others even requested to see the remarkable phenomenon of a cricket or stool walking off on all fours, until the lady became so annoyed by the continual stream of credulous callers, that she inserted a notice in the city journals denying the truth of the strange rumor. It was supposed to have started from some neighbor’s seeing or hearing a house cricket when on a visit at the lady’s house.The Bowing Images.—A still more amusing story is related respecting the two images surmounting the wall each side of the gate at the residence of Professor Gammel, of Providence. A report became current among the school-boys of the city, that when the images heard the clock strike nine in the forenoon they bowed their heads. My informant said it was no unusual thing to see a dozen boys waiting, with books and slates, in front of the professor’s gate, to see the images bow at nine. Being late at school, the teacher would inquire,—

“Where have you been lingering, that you are behind time at school?”

“WAITING TO SEE THE IMAGES BOW”.

“Been down to Professor Gammel’s, waitin’ to see the images bow.”

Then the teacher drew his ferule or rod, and made them “bow” in submission to a smart whipping—a sequel anticipated by the older scholars who instituted the story.House Spiders.—Was there ever a child who was not taught, directly or indirectly, that house spiders were poisonous,—that their bite was instantaneous death? Was there ever a greater mistake? Many people have a superstitious terror of these harmless creatures. The bite of spiders is only poisonous to those insects which the divine economy seems to have created for them to destroy. It is possible, as by a fly, sometimes for a slight skin inflammation, less than a mosquito’s bite, to follow the sting of a spider on a very small child.

Let me hereby disabuse the public mind of the repugnance or horror with which these little creatures are regarded. The Creator has evidently placed them here for the destruction of flies and other insects, which otherwise would completely overrun us. The fly is such a domestic creature, that he soon deserts a house where the family is long absent. The spider then removes also. (I have watched this proceeding, with no little interest, in the absence of my own family.) Therefore the spider was created to suppress a superabundance of insect life. When I have before stated this fact, the listener has been led to inquire why the flies were then made. We will not answer the suggestion of this “riddle” as the Irishman did (you know that he said, “To feed the spiders, to be sure”), but reply, that if this question is to arise in this connection, we may as well keep on our inquiry till we arrive at the greater riddle, “Why are we created?”—to which we have no space for reply.

It is said that manufacturers of quill pens in London, being greatly annoyed by a species of moth which infests their quills and devours the feathers, and the common spider being endowed with an inordinate appetite for those same moths, the penmakers and spiders are on the best of terms, and an army of these much-maligned and persecuted insects encamp in each pen factory, and do good service to the cause of literature as well as trade, by protecting the quills. We may yet find that even mosquitos and bedbugs have their uses in the wise economy of nature.

Now, when tidy housewifery requires that brush and broom should ruthlessly demolish the webs,—the wonderful work and mechanism of the one species of house spider,—let it be done as a necessity, not with a feeling of repugnance to the harmless little insect; and let children be taught the truthful lesson that nothing is made in vain.

The House Cat, with many, is regarded with unaccountable superstition. It goes with the witch, particularly the black cat. No witch ever could exist without one. This is usually the species that haunts naughty boys in their dreams after they have eaten too heartily of cake, and other indigestible stuff, at evening.

Cats are as old as time. At least their existence dates back as far as man’s in history, and they were formerly regarded as a sacred animal.

In ancient Egypt we find that Master Tomas, with his round face and rugged whiskers, symbolized the sun. Preserved in the British Museum are abundant proofs of the reverence and superstition with which the feline race was regarded by the Egyptians. Here several of these revered Grimalkins are mummied in spices, and perfumes, and balsams, in which they have survived the unknown centuries of the past, “to contrast the value of a dead cat in the land of the Pharaohs with the fate of such relics in modern times, ignominiously consigned to the scavenger’s cart, or feloniously hanging upon a tree, the scarecrow of the orchard.”

Diodorus, the Greek writer, 1st century B. C., informs us that such was the superstitious veneration with which the Egyptians regarded cats, that no one could ruffle the fur of Tom or Tabby with impunity, and that any man killing a cat was put to death. (O, what a country it must have been to sleep in!) In Ptolemy’s time, while the Roman army was established in Egypt, one of the Romans killed a cat, when the people flew to his house, and dragged him forth, and neither the fear of the soldiers nor the influence of the prince could deliver the unfortunate cat-slayer from the wrath of the infuriated mob.

Mohammed had a superstition for cats, and was said to have been constantly attended by one. A cat hospital was founded at Damascus in respect to the prophet’s predilection, which Baumgarten, the German professor (1714 to 1762) found filled with feline inmates. Turkey maintained several public establishments of this kind.

Howell the Good, king of Wales, 10th century, legislated for the cat propagation, and it would seem that the race was limited, since a week old kitten sold for a penny,—a great deal of money in those days,—and fourpence for one old enough to catch a mouse. The following ludicrous penalty was attached to a cat-stealer:—

“If any person stole a cat that guarded the prince’s granaries he was to forfeit a milch ewe, fleece, and lamb; or, in lieu of these, as much wheat as, when poured upon the cat, suspended by the tail, her head touching the floor, would form a heap high enough to bury her to the tail tip.”

This would seem rather hard on poor pussy, even to threatening her suffocation.

Huc, in his “Chinese Empire,” tells us that the Chinese peasantry are accustomed to tell the noon hour from the narrowing and dilation of the pupils of pussy’s eyes; they are said to be drawn down to a hair’s-breadth precisely at twelve o’clock. This horological utility, however, by no means gives her a fixed tenure in a Chinese home. There she enters into the category of edible animals, and, having served the purpose of a cat-clock, is seen hanging side by side with the carcasses of dogs, rats, and mice in the shambles of every city and town of the celestial empire.

Descending to the middle ages, a mal-odor of magic taints the fair fame of our protÉgÉs, more especially attaching itself to black or brindled cats, which were commonly found to be the “familiars” of witches; or, rather, their “familiars” were supposed to take the form of these animals; and hence, in nearly all judicial records of these unhappy delusionists, demons in the shape of cats are sure to figure. The witches in “Macbeth” (for what impression of the times he lived in has Shakspeare lost?) awaited the triple mewing of the brindled cat to begin their incantations; and more scientific pretenders to a knowledge of the occult arts are usually represented as attended in their laboratories by a feline companion.

Fragments of a superstitious faith in the magical, or what was till comparatively recent times so nearly allied with it, the medicinal attributes of the animal, still surviving in certain rustic and remote districts of England, where the brains of a cat of the proper color (black, of course) are esteemed a cure for epilepsy; and where, within our memory, such a faith induced a wretched being, in the shape of woman, mad with despair and rage, to tear the living heart from one of these animals, that, by sticking it full of pins and roasting it, she might bring back the regard of a man, brutal and perfidious as herself. Such formulÆ are frequently to be met with in the works of ancient naturalists and physicians, and were, doubtlessly, handed down from generation to generation, and locally acted upon in desperate cases.

It is on evidence that more than one old woman has been condemned by our wise ancestors to pay the penalty of her presumed league with Satan in a fiery death, upon no better testimony than the fact that Harper, Rutterkin, or Robin had been seen entering her dwelling in the shape of a black cat. But if, in ancient times, old women, and young ones, too, have been brought to grief through the cats they fostered, certain it is that these creatures have suffered horrible reprisal at the hands of certain vagrants of the sex in our own.Our Felis domestica has, for a long time, labored under the serious disadvantage of a traditional character. Buffon sums her up as a “faithless friend, brought in to oppose a still more insidious enemy;” and Goldsmith—who, it is well known, became a writer of natural history “upon compulsion,” and had neither time nor opportunity for personal observation of the habits and instincts of the creatures he so charmingly describes—followed in the track of the great naturalist, and echoes this ungracious definition.

Boys have a natural contempt for cats, and picking them up by the tail, tossing them over the wall, or tying old tin pots to their caudal end, to see how fast they can run, are among their most trifling sports at the expense of Tom and Tabby. I have known a cruel boy to roll a cat in turpentine, and set fire to her. Few men have any feeling but repugnance towards the feline race. The exceptions are in the past.

Cardinal Wolsey’s cat sat on the arm of his chair of state, or took up her position at the back of his throne when he held audiences; and the cat of the poet Petrarch, after death, occupied, embalmed, a niche in his studio; indeed, poets appear to be more susceptible of pussy’s virtues and graces than other persons; and she has, on many occasions, been made the subject of their verse, the sentiment of which fully expresses a sense of the maligned animal’s faithfulness and affection.

Tasso, reduced to such a strait of poverty as to be obliged to borrow a crown from a friend to subsist on through a week, turns for mute sympathy to his faithful cat, and disburdens his case in a charming sonnet, in which he entreats her to assist him through the night with the lustre of her moon-like eyes, having no candles by which he could see to write his verses.

SPORT FOR THE BOYS BUT DEATH FOR THE CAT.An editor facetiously says, “We have here among us at this time an addition to the M. D.’s in the shape of two cat doctors, who have the terrible idea that they were put upon this earth for the sole object of doctoring cats, and now the mortality list shows, at the least calculation, that no less than eighteen cats and two kittens have travelled to that bourn from which no passengers have ever yet returned, and all because they were the unlucky sons and daughters of ye night prowlers who had been sacrificed for the good of the future cat generation.”

Present Errors.

I think some reason for the present errors and superstitions attached to cats, may be attributed to the cat-adioptric qualities of their eyes and fur. At night their eyes often shine with phosphoric light, and rubbing their fur with the human hand causes it to emit electric sparks, particularly in very cold weather. They are supposed to partake of ghostly, or witch-like qualities, because they can see in the night time. Fish scales, as well as the flesh of fish, contain a phosphoric principle—there is no witchery about such—which can be seen best through the dark. The fur of other animals besides the cat contain electric qualities. Humans possess it to a greater or lesser extent. The eye of the cat—as also the owl—is made, in the divine economy, expressly for night prowling. The back, or reflecting coat (retina), is white, or light, that it may reflect dark objects. In man, and most animals, it is dark. A light-complexioned person can (cÆteris paribus) see better at night than one who is dark. In a strong light, it is reversed. So much for cat-optrics.

Our cat-alogue would be incomplete without this cat-agraph, and we should “cat-ch it,” hereafter, from some cat-echist, if we here discontinued our cat-enary cat-egory, without some little cat-ch relative to the domestic and redeeming qualities of this unappreciated cat-tle (excuse the cat-achresis).Webster says the cat is a deceitful animal. Webster don’t know. She certainly has large cautiousness and secretiveness. Man, with the same secretiveness, with the same neglect and abuse that Tom receives, will become doubly deceitful. Treat him kindly and affectionately, and he will return it. Subject to everybody’s kicks, cuffs, and suspicion, the cat necessarily becomes shy, ugly, and appears deceitful. So does a child. The cat is fond of sweet scents, and pries into drawers and cupboards, oftener to gratify her sense of smell than taste. Cats are very fond of music, and occasionally go upon the piano keys to make the strings vibrate. Depending upon their own exertions for a livelihood, they become thieves. They may, by kind instruction, soon be taught to know and keep their own places.

The healthy cat is neat and systematic. Children may be taught a useful lesson by noticing that the tabby washes her face and hands after meals, and never comes to her repast with them dirty.

Cats are sometimes good fish-catchers, as well as mousers and bird-catchers, often plunging into water to secure their favorite aliment. Their love of praise is exhibited in their general tendency to bring in their prey, and place it at your feet for your approbation. Give them the notice due them, and they will redouble their efforts.

It is a vulgar error to suppose their washing over the head is a sign of rain, or that you can tell the time of tide by their eye-pupils, or that they can go through a solid wall, have nine lives, or suck away a child’s breath.

The cat, as a sanitary means, should be domesticated, especially with scrofulous children and females. Either by their absorbent or repelling powers they assist nature in eradicating that almost universal disease—scrofula.

Teach children that “God has created nothing in vain,” and nothing which will harm them if rightly used.

Here we bid good by to Tom and Tabby.The Owl.—The superstition which has hung about this very harmless bird is liable to soon cease in the extermination of the creature itself.

“Was you born in the woods to be scared by an owl?” my grandmother once sarcastically inquired when I was frightened from the barn by an old owl inquiring,—

“Who—a’—yoo?”

“WHO—A’—YOO?”

I acknowledge I was a great coward; but I had heard the old women affirm more than once that it was a sign of ill luck or death to hear one of these cat-faced, cat-seeing, mousing creatures cry by day; so I fled from the barn, while the old owl turned his head sidewise, as he sat on a beam, trying to penetrate the light, repeating, “Who—a’—yoo?” It was a sign of death, for my uncle shot the owl.

Magpies are made the subject of superstition. To see a single one strutting across your path is a sad mishap. There is luck in three, or more, however.

Holy Water.—Church superstitions and rites are not within our province, unless they are objectionable in a sanitary point of view. If the holy water is clean, it is just as good as any other pure water; but I have seen it poured upon my Irish patients—years ago in Hartford and elsewhere—when there were “wrigglers” in it from long exposure in an unstopped bottle or tea-cup. I approve of holy water, therefore, in large quantities, with other rites, tending to a sanitary object. Have plenty of water—with soap.

THE PROPER USE OF “HOLY WATER.”

Bells.—Few useful articles have been held in greater reverence and superstition. Their origin is of great antiquity. The first Jewish priests adorned their blue tunics with golden bells, as also did the Persian kings. The Greeks put bells upon criminals going to execution, as a warning, as it was an ill omen to see a criminal and his executioner walking. The superstition respecting bells began more particularly with the tenth century, when the priests exorcised and blessed them, giving them the names of saints, making the rabble believe that when they were rung for those ceremonies they had the power to drive devils out of the air, making them quake and tremble; also to restrain the power of the devil over a corpse; hence bell-ringing at funerals.

There are many legends wherein the evil spirits’ dislike to bells is promulgated.

As “the devil hates holy water,” so he does bell-ringing.

Dr. Warner, a clergyman of the Church of England, in his “Hampshire,” enumerates the virtues of a bell, by translating some lines from the “Helpe to Discourse.”

“Men’s deaths I tell by doleful knell;
Lightning and thunder I break asunder;
On Sabbath all to church I call;
The sleepy head I raise from bed;
The winds so fierce I doe disperse;
Men’s cruel rage I do asswage.”

I think the beautiful music discoursed by a chime of bells would be more effectual “men’s cruel rage” to tranquillize, than a battery of seven cannons. Aside from all superstitious notions, there is an irresistible charm about the music of bells, and I rejoice that they are gradually being redeemed from the superstition and monopoly of one ignorant denomination, as the sacred cross may be, to the use and blessing of all mankind.

Fear of Thunder and Lightning.—These have ever been sources of superstitious terror. The ancients considered thunder and lightning as direct manifestations of divine wrath; hence whatever the lightning struck was accursed. The corpses of persons so killed were allowed to remain where they fell, to the great inconvenience, often, of the living.

The electricity which plays about high poles and spires was formerly attributed to spirits. “Fiery spirits or devils,” says old Burton, “are such as commonly work by blazing stars, fire-drakes,” etc. “Likewise they counterfeit suns and moons ofttimes, and sit on ships’ masts.” The electric sparks upon the metal points of soldiers’ spears were regarded as omens of no small importance.

In some parts of Europe, up to the last century, it was a custom to ring bells during a thunder-storm, to drive away evil spirits; but this act often was the cause of death, by the exposure of persons to the points of attraction, and the conducting power of moist ropes and metallic wires. On the night of April 15, 1718, the lightning struck twenty-four steeples while the bells were ringing. In July of the following year, while the bells were tolling at a funeral celebration in the Chateau Vieux, lightning struck the steeple, killing nine persons and injuring twenty-two. Statistics show that numerous deaths were caused by bell-ringing in England and France, during the last century, to drive away imaginary spirits.

The saint usually invoked on these occasions was St. Barnabas.

The houseleek and bay tree were supposed to afford protection from lightning.

“The thunder has soured the beer,” or the milk, is a common saying; and I once saw a piece of iron lying across the beer-barrel to keep away thunder. A heavy atmosphere may suddenly sour beer or milk.

Creeping three times under the communion table while the chimes were striking, at midnight, was believed to cure fits, as late as 1835.

Glass, stone, and feathers are non-conductors to electricity. Persons very susceptible to electric currents need give themselves no fear, and no more caution need be taken than we take to protect ourselves against other objects of danger. Lightning will not strike one out of doors, unless he is near a point of high attraction,—under a tree, or pole,—or has about him, exposed, some metallic substance, or some very wet article. Houses under or near tall trees, or with suitable lightning-rods, are safe enough. A feather bed, particularly one insulated by glass-rollers, or plates, under the posts, and not touching the wall, is a perfectly safe place for invalids and nervous people who are susceptible to electricity. The pulse of such is often increased in frequency before a thunder-storm. Let such first have no fear. See God in the storm and lightning as only a saving power. I know a girl who “tears around like mad” for a man at the approach of a thunder-storm. When finding one, she feels perfectly safe. If not, she hides in the cellar till the storm abates.Unlucky Days.—The superstition respecting unlucky Friday is well known. Some cynical bachelors say it is unlucky because named for a woman. Monday was also so named. I can find no account of this superstition until after the first century A. D. It is said that our Saviour was crucified on Friday—a day of fear and trembling, of earthquakes and divers remarkable phenomena; but that day is now as uncertain as the day of his birth, in the various changes of the calendar, heathen naming of the days to suit their notions, and the great uncertainty of chronology. No doubt Christ arose from the dead on the then first day of the week, and was crucified the third day before the resurrection; but what day of our present week who can tell? If on Friday, it should be counted far from an unlucky day. Sailors are particularly superstitious as to sailing on Friday, notwithstanding Columbus sailed on Friday, and discovered America on that day.

The French believe in unlucky Friday. Lord Byron, Dr. Johnson, and other authors and poets, are said to have so believed. Shakspeare, Scott, Goldsmith, Bacon, Sir Francis Drake, Napoleon, and many other great men, were pretty thoroughly tinged with superstition; the latter, it is said, believed in “luck,” or destiny.

The future of children is yet believed to depend much upon the day of the week on which they are born.

“Monday’s child is fair in face;
Tuesday’s child is full of grace;
Wednesday’s child is full of woe;
Thursday’s child has far to go;
Friday’s child works hard for its living;
Saturday’s child is loving and giving;
And a child that’s born on Christmas day
Is fair, and wise, and good, and gay.”[7]This, of course, is all nonsense—or rather the belief in such signs—and one day is equally as good as another for nature’s work, or in which to fulfil the requirements of God and nature. Let no mother, or her who is about to become a mother, put faith in old nurses’ whims. Their brains are full of all such fantastic notions, which are too often revealed in the sick room, and the effect is often detrimental to the peace and happiness of the mother, and at times dangerous to the life of the invalid.

Superstition of a Kiss.

The monks of the middle ages—great theorists—divided the kiss into fifteen distinct and separate orders.

1. The decorous or modest kiss.

2. The diplomatic, or kiss of policy.

3. The spying kiss, to ascertain if a woman had drank wine.

4. The slave kiss.

5. The kiss infamous—a church penance.

6. The slipper kiss, practised towards tyrants.

7. The judicial kiss.

8. The feudal kiss.

9. The religious kiss (kissing the cross).

10. The academical kiss (on joining a solemn brotherhood).

11. The hand kiss.

12. The Judas kiss.

13. The medical kiss—for the purpose of healing some sickness.

14. The kiss of etiquette.

15. The kiss of love—the only real kiss. But this was also to be variously considered; viz., given by ardent enthusiasm, as by lovers; by matrimonial affection; or, lastly, between two men—an awful kiss, tasting like sandwiches without butter or meat.

THE MODEST KISS.

The End is not yet.

The reign of superstition is not yet ended.

It is impossible for any great catastrophe, involving loss of property or life, to occur without a certain superstitious class harping upon the event as a judgment of God upon the wickedness of the victims. If a great city is swept away by the devouring elements, we hear the cry that “an offended Deity has visited the ‘Babylon of the West’ with his vengeance for her wickedness.” Some penurious wretch takes it up, and says, “I’ll give nothing, then, to the victims of the fire. It is God’s judgment; I won’t interfere.” A rich man is murdered in cold blood, and the same howl goes up, “It is the judgment of God upon him for heaping up riches.” The fact of his riches going to thousands of poor artisans, actors, musicians, widows, orphans, and “western Babylonian sufferers,” goes for nothing with such people. These same superstitious wretches have not yet done asserting that the assassination of President Lincoln was in judgment for his attending a theatre.

Twenty-five persons were killed in a church at Bologna, recently, while kneeling in prayer. Was this an expression of God’s wrath upon church-goers?

“The laws by which God governs the universe are inexorable. The frost will blight, the fire destroy, the storms will ravage, disease and death will do their appointed work, though narrow-mindedness and bigotry misconstrue their intent. All things are for good. If natural laws are violated, the known and inevitable result follows.”

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I have already exceeded the space to which this chapter was limited, and there are a thousand superstitious beliefs and practices which are not herein enumerated nor explained. But rest assured that nothing exists without its uses, without the knowledge of the divine Author, and nothing supernatural does or ever did exist amongst natural beings. There is nothing within this world but what God has placed for man’s good. There is nothing here past man’s ability to fathom. God is love.

What there is beyond this world, we shall find out quite soon enough.

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