File:Old Saint Paul's - a tale of the plague and the fire (1841) (14775500611).jpg

Identifier: oldsaintpaulstal01ains (find matches)
Title: Old Saint Paul's : a tale of the plague and the fire
Year: 1841 (1840s)
Authors: Ainsworth, William Harrison, 1805-1882 Franklin, John, fl. 1800-1861, ill Zaehnsdorf (Firm), binder. IU-R
Subjects: Plague Fires
Publisher: London : Hugh Cunningham, Saint Martin's Place, Trafalgar Square
Contributing Library: University of Illinois Urbana-Champaign
Digitizing Sponsor: University of Illinois Urbana-Champaign

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angelica, liquorice, flower of sulphur, myrrh,and oil of cinnamon. Secondly, an electuary ofbole-armoniac, hartshorn-shavings, saffron, andsyrup of wood-sorrel. I long to taste it. Butthen, it would be running in the doctors teeth.Thirdly, there is a phial, labelled Aqua Theria-calls Stillatitia^— in plain English, distilledtreacle-water. A spoonful! of this couldnt hurtme. Fourthly, a packet of powders, entitledManus Christi,—an excellent mixture. Fifthly,a small pot of diatesseron, composed of gentian,myrrh, bayberries, and round aristolochia. Imust just taste it. Never mind the doctor !He does not know what agrees with my con-stitution as well as I do myself. Physic comesas naturally to me as mothers milk. Sixthly,there is Aqua Epidemica, commonly called thePlague-Water of Matthias—dehcious stuif!—I will only just sip it. What a fine bitter ithas ! I m sure it must be very wholesome.Next, for I Ve lost my count, comes salt ofvipers,—next, powder of unicorns horn,—next,
Text Appearing After Image:
Bisx^x: tagitix^ tbe floixwc ilkdtnnc.^, lonactL, Pabialiea by- Hagh. Ciinmn^hain. 1S41. THE POMANDER-BOX. Ill oil of scorpions from Naples,—next, dragon-water,—all admirable. Then there are clovesof garlic,—sovereign fortifiers of the stomach,—and, lastly, there is a large box of my favouriterufnses. How many pills have I taken ? Onlyhalf-a-dozen ! Three more may as well go tokeep the others company. And hastily swallowing them, as if afraid ofdetection, he carefully shut the drawer, andthen crept into bed, and, covering himself withblankets, endeavoured to compose himself toslumber. Doctor Hodges, meantime, returned to thegrocer, and acquainted him that it was a falsealarm, and that the porter was entirely freefiom infection. I am glad to hear it, replied Bloundel; but I expected as much. Blaize is like theshepherds boy in the fable; he has cried wolfso often, that when the danger really arrives, noone will heed him. I must now take my leave, Mr. Bloundel,said Hodges. I will

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