food was a kind of porridge, and seemed to have been dug out of the earth. A very small quantity was sufficient at each meal. No drink, except for the hospital patients, was required; but great princesses, like Bellagranda and Cleopatra, had wine like blood. In Doré's Milton there is an illustration of the lines:
'Their summons called,
From every band and squared regiment
By place or choice the worthiest'—
which represents an innumerable host of the armed inhabitants of hell assembling to the sound of trumpets. While looking on splendid masterpieces of art like that, we do not pause to inquire where all the beautiful horses on which the demons are mounted came from, or where they got their dresses, arms, and accoutrements. So I hope my readers will not be hypercritical. I try to describe the scenes that met my view as simply as possible. Of nearly all the mysterious matters connected with the gloomy pit I am entirely ignorant.
There were no children in this place, and the city seemed sad and desolate without them. I questioned Florian as to the number and quality of the patients in the hospital; but he shook his head, and looked round him with a peculiar smile, intimating that he was forbidden to speak. I myself stood too much in awe of the Doctor to question him on that or any other subject, although he had answered some of my inquiries without getting into a rage. He was evidently possessed of some wonderful powers, for he had threatened to turn his faithful servant into a dancing goat. Could he really do so? and if so, how did he come by his power? If he were the Demon's minister, or colleague, he certainly knew how to play the part of a finished hypocrite, He was either a friend to me, and an enemy to the Demon, or the converse. If my enemy, what object had he
