Grievously are they mistaken who think that the revival of literature
was the death of superstition--that ghosts, demons, and exorcists
retreated before the march of intellect, and fled the British shore
along with monks, saints, and masses. Superstition, deadly superstition,
may co-exist with much learning, with high civilization, with any
religion, or with utter irreligion. Canidia wrought her spells in the
Augustan age, and Chaldean fortune-tellers haunted Rome in the sceptical
days of Juvenal. Matthew Hopkins, the witch-finder, and Lilly, the
astrologer, were contemporaries of Selden, Harrington, and Milton.
Perhaps there never was a more superstitious period than that which
produced Erasmus and Bacon. _--Blackwood's Mag._
* * * * *
"FELLOW" FEELING.
A "certain exalted personage," as the newspapers would say, commanded
the attendance of a physician, who was only a Licentiate, and, thereby,
struck consternation throughout the whole body of "Fellows." The great
men already in attendance were dreadfully alarmed and confounded by this
terrible subversion of established College etiquette. "Sire!" said one
of them, "we humbly acquaint your Majesty, with all dutiful submission
that as Dr.---- is not a Fellow, it is contrary to rule and custom to
meet him in attendance here."--"A Fellow?" asked his Majesty; "what mean
ye?" The learned physician explained. "Well, make him a Fellow, then,"
was his Majesty's quick reply; and he was accordingly made one!
* * * * *