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"Thou whose power and goodness can enlarge the faculties of thy creatures to this infinite degree of excellence and perfection,—What have we Moonites done?"
CHAP. XXXIV.
With two strokes, the one at Hippocrates, the other at Lord Verulam, did my father atchieve it.
The stroke at the prince of physicians, with which he began, was no more than a short insult upon his sorrowful complaint of the Ars longa,—and Vita brevis.—Life short, cried my father,—and the art of healing tedious! And who are we to thank for both, the one and the other, but the ignorance of quacks themselves,—and the stage-loads of chymical nostrums, and peripatetic lumber, with which
