power which lies in a heap of neglected plants, such as the hazel, the

catkin, the white alder, the white bryony, the mealy-tree, the

traveller's joy, the buckthorn. He treated phthisis with the sundew; at

opportune moments he would use the leaves of the spurge, which plucked

at the bottom are a purgative and plucked at the top, an emetic. He

cured sore throat by means of the vegetable excrescence called Jew's

ear. He knew the rush which cures the ox and the mint which cures the

horse. He was well acquainted with the beauties and virtues of the herb

mandragora, which, as every one knows, is of both sexes. He had many

recipes. He cured burns with the salamander wool, of which, according to

Pliny, Nero had a napkin. Ursus possessed a retort and a flask; he

effected transmutations; he sold panaceas. It was said of him that he

had once been for a short time in Bedlam; they had done him the honour

to take him for a madman, but had set him free on discovering that he

was only a poet. This story was probably not true; we have all to submit

to some such legend about us.

The fact is, Ursus was a bit of a savant, a man of taste, and an old

Latin poet. He was learned in two forms; he Hippocratized and he

Pindarized. He could have vied in bombast with Rapin and Vida. He could

have composed Jesuit tragedies in a style not less triumphant than that

of Father Bouhours. It followed from his familiarity with the venerable

rhythms and metres of the ancients, that he had peculiar figures of

speech, and a whole family of classical metaphors. He would say of a

mother followed by her two daughters, There is a dactyl; of a father

preceded by his two sons, There is an anapæst; and of a little child

walking between its grandmother and grandfather, There is an

The Man Who Laughs