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292 One obstruction will, we fear, remain. The blocks of houses on either side of the river (ultimately destined to be removed), still look stable as ever—these abut directly upon the new portion of the structure, and will, if not removed before opening the bridge, make a sharp and inconvenient turn in the road necessary. These done away with, we Londoners, may fairly hope to cross the Thames -next year, by a bridge about nine feet lower than the present, and thirty-six feet wider when completely finished. As it will be impossible for our contractors to proceed with the destruction of the old bridge in the summary manner lately popular on the continent, we must for the present be content with the first half. It will not be long though before the pickaxe and the spade are busy at their work, and the present crippled arches become things of the past.

Either we, or the stones, seem to have degenerated since Shakespeare's time, for they, now-a-days, preach sermons, but to very few listeners—and are not often occasions for sentiment—but the passing away of old Westminster bridge, associated as it is with some of England’s most classic interests, may well suggest memories of noble men and noble deeds, now buried in the dead past. Many a patriot and many a plotter, passed over its footways into England’s senate. With or without reminder the glory of our great men will live among us ever; while the remembrance of our base ones will perish like its stones.

With bright thoughts of our dead worthies, we close this paper, hoping in the practical fashion of an engineer, that our new bridge may yet carry to our new Parliament houses hearts as true, as loyal, and fearless, as ever in old time aided to establish our freedom and our fame.

D. P.

a strong desire to begin this paper Shakesperimentally; and as I recollect several passages which are mostly or entirely irrelevant, I do not see why I should balk my inclination.

When the fire burned and cauldron bubbled, the witches who doubled, toiled, and troubled, threw into the broth, amongst other ingredients of a recherché description, a portion of the mummy of one of their respectable sisterhood. The mixture which they concocted was, however, not intended for bodily refreshment, nor in any way made for the stomach’s sake. The use to which it was put was, as we all know, quite other than that of victuals.

Again, if I recollect rightly, the fatal handkerchief of Desdemona “was dyed in mummy, which the skilful conserved, of maidens’ hearts.” But it does not at all appear that that hapless lady’s fate was in any way influenced by the application of mummy internally.

Could Shakespeare however have read Sir Thomas Browne, I think he would have been extremely surprised to meet with the following very singular inquiries:

Shall we exceed the barbarities of Cambyses, and turn old heroes into unworthy potions? Shall Egypt lend out her ancients unto chirurgeons and spothecaries, and Cheops and Psammeticus be weighed unto us for drugs? Shall we eat of Chamnes and Amasis in electuaries and pills, and be cured by cannibal mixtures?

I think he would have replied promptly, that we ought to do no such thing, that no such thing ever had been done, and that it was absurd to think of it. He would, however, have been entirely mistaken.

Some few centuries ago, the learned physicians of England and other countries of Europe, prescribed for their patients, quite regularly, what they called “mummy;" viz., nothing more and nothing less than the powdered bodies of Egyptian mummies.

Mummy became an article of commerce: a brisk trade was done in it. Bodies, fragments of bodies—of embalmed Egyptians, embalmed Egyptian cats, embalmed Egyptian anything—came to have a marketable value, and were eagerly sought after by the astute Levantine merchants. The people of the East, being inclined to more wholesome medicaments for their own part, and not wanting to keep their peculiar produce at home, exported largely to these countries.

I do not know whether there is on record any authentic list of cures effected by these singular nostrums of our ancestors, but we are credibly informed how the specific was administered, and for what complaints it was esteemed an anodyne. It was recommended to be taken in decoctions of carraway, marjoram, cassia, lentils, saffron, thyme, and various other aromatic herbs, with wine, milk, butter, &c. As for the diseases over which it was all-powerful, any quack list of the present day will give them as well as I can. One great virtue of mummy-powder, however, seems to have been, that if it did no good, it also did no harm; which is more than could be said of the quack mixtures of our times.

The physicians apologised for the singular and offensive nature of their prescriptions, by saying that the ancient Egyptians used in the process of embalming certain precious gums and balsams, the art of preparing and mixing which, in the proper proportions, had been lost in the lapse of ages, and which could therefore only be obtained by using the substances impregnated with them. They urged that these ingredients were not only, as had been sufficiently made manifest, of power to keep the dead husk together in the tomb, but had also the rare and higher virtue of upholding our mortal frames in life, and in some measure lengthening the span allotted to us. I propose to offer no opinion as to the correctness of these theories.

The common people (who took mummy powder without any especial reluctance), cherished a firmly-grounded belief that the virtue, far from being in the spice, was altogether in the Egyptian.

Whether in the course of time it became difficult to obtain supplies of the genuine article, or whether the dealer in mummy found it more profitable to manufacture it at home, I know not. It is certain that the discovery was made that the vendors had been (horribile dictu) in the habit of getting hold of the bodies of executed criminals, which, by a process of drying in the sun,