They sew them in the lining of the pocket, lest they should be pulled out with the handkerchief and lost; they will grant the loan of them to a neighbour tormented by some refractory molar.

"Lend me thy _tigno_: I am suffering martyrdom!" begs the owner of a swollen face.--"Don't on any account lose it!" says the lender: "I haven't another, and we aren't at the right time of moon!" We will not laugh at the credulous victim; many a remedy triumphantly puffed on the latter pages of the newspapers and magazines is no more effectual.

Moreover, this rural simplicity is surpassed by certain old books which form the tomb of the science of a past age.

An English naturalist of the sixteenth century, the well-known physician, Thomas Moffat, informs us that children lost in the country would inquire their way of the Mantis.

The insect consulted would extend a limb, indicating the direction to be taken, and, says the author, scarcely ever was the insect mistaken.