index. There are one, two, three, hum, hum, nineteen, hum, hum, thirty-two, hum—actually forty different medical authors given, who wrote on cosmetics in that period in German, not to speak of works on orthopedics, plastics, perfumery, the hair, the skin, and so forth. And haven't we already mentioned Prof. Hirzel, and Dr. Klencke, and Dr. Deite, and
Portia.—Don't go over those crooked names again. Tell us rather why all these books are forgotten. Was their advice without value, or were they poorly written?
We.—Both. The means, as we have said, have been simplified and improved by modern chemistry. As for style, we only recall one worth any praise.
Portia.—Which is that?
We.—The scientific romance by Antoine le Camus, called Abdeker, ou les Moyens de Conserver la Beauté, published about 1740.
Portia.—What! a romance on preserving beauty! You must get me a copy.
We.—Pardon us, belle dame, the style of le Camus was more suitable to the atmosphere of France a century ago than to ours. As the newspapers say, it is adapted to a different meridian. In short, it's too Frenchy for you. The plot, moreover, would be considered stupid now-a-days. Abdeker is physician to the harem of the Sultan, and reads Fatima, the favorite, with whom he is head-over-ears in love, long lec-
