St. Matthew, of mania; St. Martin, of inflammation of the lungs and throat, and of goitre; St. Apollina, of toothache. Each and all of his patients carried with him or her the emblem of the special protector and expected healer in each case. In most instances Solomon’s remedies,—and he groaned over their insufficient supply and imperfect application,—utterly rejected after failure to produce instant cure, became the cause of extreme dissatisfaction and coarse abuse. The fertility of the Orient in epidemics can be readily understood by those who know how rapidly patients throng from all quarters, even at the present day, wherever a physician from the west becomes accessible. The marvel is, and has always been, that epidemic scourges are not constant. Yet their virulence, frequency, and terrible ravages have never been and cannot be exaggerated. “And in the midst of all this,” frequently groaned the over-burdened Solomon, “I am confronted with a threat of the pains of eternal torment denounced not only against me as a supposed magician, but against every philanthropic, and reasonable person, who will laboriously investigate the means of alleviating all this terrible suffering that menaces universal humanity with the purulence of incurable corruption!”
In the midst of these labors Solomon and his royal patient received the tidings from Prague.
“I am under agreement with Lord Witek,” exclaimed Ladislaus in hot displeasure, “not to introduce my family quarrels into national relations. I believe now that all this conspiracy was planned
