was app

ty

toms varied with the patient, the most prominent being profound sadness, difficulty in breathing, a feeble pulse, an aversion for some particular colours, such as black and blue, and an extravagant liking for white, red, and green. A thousand phantoms disturbed the minds of those affected, whilst their bodies were thrown into violent and ridiculous contortions.

The sole means of cure was apparently the playing and singing of various airs, to which the tarantists as the sufferers were called-were made to dance till, from sheer exhaustion, they could dance no longer. Some were known to dance for six hours without intermission. All did not foot it to the same tune, for the melody that cured one had no effect upon another. The exercise was continued for several days before the patient had quite recovered, and some had regular returns of the malady for twenty or thirty years. Tarantism was at its height during the course of the sixteenth century, and bands of musicians wandered up and down the country at that time playing the melodies which alone brought relief.

The history of the disease has roused a good deal of incredulity. The spider's bite has been made light of, as we have seen; and as for the cure by music, it has been set down as the invention of people who wanted to make a little money by piping whilst others danced. What is certain, however, is that the disease existed, whatever may have been its origin; and that those who recovered attributed their restored health to music and dancing is equally sure. No doubt many fables were added to the facts-as, for instance, that the patient was affected only so long as the animal lived that bit him, and that the tarantula itself danced all the time to the same air with the person bitten..

Few specimens have survived of the music used. As characteristic an example as any is the following "Antidotum Tarantule," which has been several times reprinted :

The celebrated physician Porta, who lived during the second half of the sixteenth century and the first years of the seventeenth, conceived an original theory in regard to the curative effects. of music. He proposed to have instruments made of the wood of various medicinal plants,

life long a taste for absurditi

Music is of service in case we have already referred to an complaint by the sound of a t -and it may be quoted as favourable effects produced by of the ear-drum-mentions a a drum were beat in the roo thing very clearly. Her husbar of her conversation that he hi servant, who played a necess chats he had with his wife.

When "La Vestale," with once took rank amongst the posers of his day, was produce it gave rise to a good story. to have carried noise to its fa well-known physician recomm go and hear it as a cure for 1 teering at the same time to acc theatre. After a sforzando lou the Seven Sleepers, "Doctor! overjoyed-" doctor, I can he was no reply, for the noise hearing to the deaf had brou doctor.

The memoirs of the Acade Paris furnish examples of som by means of music. One of Dr. Chomet in his "Effets et I sique sur la Santé et la Maladi

A musician, who was a grea art, was attacked by a fever, w creased, and became at last alarming paroxysms. On the into a very violent and almost rium, accompanied by shrieks sleeplessness. On the third d he insisted on hearing music was, suggests one writer, as prompted by one of those i said to lead animals in distr herbs that are suited to their n

They sang to him some f soon as the first notes struck 1 nance assumed an air of seren calm, the convulsions entirely tears of pleasure, and was wi fever during the whole perfor it was finished he relapsed int dition.

His friends did not fail to co ment of a remedy whose suc unexpected. The fever and de suspended whilst the concert became so necessary to the si the night he caused his nurs Ten days of music, with th hardly any other remedy, cured

A work was published about this century in Germany in w curious facts were brought for "the most serious disorders, af

The author asserts that in cases of hage the most extraordinary results have ɔtained.

constitutions, it has been observed, are ore sensitive than others to the effects of On not a few its influence is very singuhere is a well-authenticated instance of a whose nervous system it so acted that obliged to leave the room previous to being introduced. He made two final ents in hopes to overcome this weakt both ended in his being seized with a on in the jaw, greatly to the alarm of his

of fainting on hearing music are not un1. Mozart was so susceptible to musical ons that in his young days he fainted the sound of a trumpet, an instrument of up to the age of ten, he had the greatest

is have even resulted from listening to At the first grand performance of the Commemoration, held in Westminster 1 1784, Burton, a celebrated chorus singer, the commencement of the overture to ," so violently agitated that, after lying in ng fit for some time, he expired. "At she was able to speak, and only a few before breathing his last he declared that e wonderful effect of the music which had ally operated upon him."

: often causes tears to start into the eyes, this effect an explanation has been atby the late Mr. Darwin. In his "DeMan" he tries to show that music "has erful power of recalling in a vague and

by the aid of vocal tones."

Having thus given the fascinations of the art prehistoric basis, he remarks in his "Expressio of the Emotions in Man and Animals," that, "a several of our strongest emotions-grief, grea joy, love, and sympathy-lead to the free secre tion of tears, it is not surprising that musi should be apt to cause our eyes to become su fused with tears, especially when we are alread softened by any of the tenderer feelings."

Another peculiar effect is referred to by M Darwin in the same work-namely, the thrill slight shiver which runs down the backbone an limbs of many persons when they are powerfull affected by music. "We know," he says, "tha every strong sensation, emotion, or excitementextreme pain, rage, terror, joy, or the passion love-all have a special tendency to cause th muscles to tremble." Now, the thrill in questio seems to bear the same relation to the abov trembling of the body as a slight suffusion of tear from the power of music does to weeping from any strong and real emotion."

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W

What strikingly affects us in health may in sick ness have a still more marked influence. must make all allowance for exaggeration, an may grant, too, that a violin and a tambourin would be handy instruments in the hands of char latans; but we are safe in saying that the cura tive powers of music deserve still further study Perhaps the music of the future may do goo work in driving disease without the bounds o society, and in this way perform greater wonder than Orpheus when he tamed lions and tiger with the sweet sounds of his lyre and the charm of his voice. JAMES MASON.

N 1812 the young people of the time-honoured

Baptist Church of Hitchen, in Hertfordshire, placed by subscription a little tablet in the wall of the meeting-house, bearing the inscription that it was placed there in respectful remembrance of a person so justly celebrated for her eminent piety and remarkable sufferings." The name of the person whose memory was thus recorded, before her marriage was Agnes Beaumont, and she had in her early youth been a friend of John Bunyan, a friendship which, through the malignity of a wicked man, an unsuccessful and disappointed lover, had brought upon her a succession of troubles and a charge of murder. Her father was a substantial farmer, one of the old yeoman class, at Edworth, in the county of Bedford, about seven miles from Hitchen. She had lost her mother. She appears to have been a very beautiful and interesting girl, and desirable in herself, but her father's property rendered her a still more attractive object, especially to one Farry, an attorney, who also lived at Edworth. This person, it seems quite certain, was altogether unequal to love in any pure or noble sense of the word, and, however persistent in such devotions as he could render, utterly failed to make any impression upon the mind of Agnes. She had no brothers, but she had one sister, Prudence, who was respectably married, and lived only a short distance from the farm of old Father Beaumont. Farry, in hopes to obtain Agnes for himself, had persuaded, or sought to persuade, the father to settle the entire of his property, which was for those times considerable, upon her. Those were the days when Bunyan was preaching much in Bedfordshire and the borders of the neighbouring counties. He had passed the period of his twelve years' imprisonment in Bedford Gaol. Farmer Beaumont heard him, and for some time appeared to be one of Bunyan's most earnest disciples and converts. In time, however, and very greatly through the influence of Farry, the ardour soon smouldered down, first into indifference, then into dislike, and by-and-by into perfect hatred. Agnes heard Bunyan too, with her father, but the feelings and fervours which were so transient in him con

tinued unabated in her, survi opposition, and continued to through all the years of her 1 Her father prohibited her from services, and especially those was the minister, as he freque tered villages in the neighb he often came to Gamling within an easy trot from Ed known to us, and we suppos from Bunyan's day until n Agnes and her husband appe only tenderly attached to he themselves lovers and followe

There came a time of a g Gamlinghay. It was some the great dreamer was to con the year 1678. The heart o being present. At first her f fused his permission, but at and by an arrangement, which fastidious fancy, as her father horse, Mr. Wilson, the Baptist was to take her upon a pillion how this arrangement broke the house of her brother-inunexpectedly came up, also o way to Gamlinghay. She hope would take her, and her broth him to do so. At first Bunyar the very good reason that he s her father's anger by doing so. had her father's permission, so the two set off together. They gone a little while, when her fa house, and upon learning that company of Bunyan, his rage He even started off hoping to he said, "to pull her from th were beyond his reach. Fro ever heard or read, Bunyan nature to feel very greatly the of female society; but, says t pure as ice or chaste as sno escape calumny." Perhaps h when he at first expressed hi take Agnes with him. Certain

I of the communion and the calm exof the religious service. But Agnes had ne, and she reached her father's house ung woman, riding behind her on her ch seems to have been a very approved I travelling in those days. She was, of norant of her father's wrath, and of the of it. She found the house closed and r father gone to bed and all the lights fter some time she succeeded in rousing bringing him to the window, expecting throw her down the key. Instead of this, churl roared out, "Who is there?" "It r. I am wet and weary, pray let me in." ed, "Where you have been all day, there tay all night!" and threatened that she wer cross the threshold more unless she mise never to go to hear Bunyan again. for some time at the window begging ce; but, although it was a night in dark e brute only threatened that if she coneath the window he would come down ly put her off the farm premises altoIt was late, her sister's family was most ped, and perhaps she was too tired to ther along the wet lanes or fields. She one of her father's barns, and there, e straw or hay, she spent the night. And an account, which is before us, of all felt and thought during that dark, cold truly it does not seem to have been Es compensating enjoyments. In the her father came into the barn with a in his hand, and seemed surprised to there. He would not, however, admit he house; told her that in every way he fied with her as a good and obedient in this matter he was determined. And ter was determined too. "I will obey rything else," she said, "but my soul is and I must think of the salvation of my vere pleasant fathers in those times. She cold she was, and how she wanted re, and had been all night in her ridingdoubt unpleasant and dirty from along the lanes and roads that DecemSo she went to her sister's house, where ery welcome; and thither, in a day or ems, her father followed her, and prole compunctious relentings passed over of the old sinner-but what we take to robable is that he wanted his daughter's spread his table; to make and smooth to draw his tankard of ale, and perhaps pipe; for, by the account of even the bate himself, she was as attentive and she was firm and faithful. So they were 1. She promised, however-but to her ress of mind-that she would grieve her more by going to the religious meetings, by his full consent; and she returned

ate of religious life and feeling with us

scarcely able to realise in these times of religiou indifference that intense grief which many Christian people felt if deprived of what were called "the means of grace." When Agnes went home she afterwards testified that she spent a good part o that day, when not employed in the duties of the household and providing for her father's comfort. in prayer and confession before God of what she regarded as her unfaithfulness in the promise she had given. As to her father, he seemed as well as ever until the evening; he had eaten, and enjoyed his dinner; in the evening he complained of the cold, but he sat with his daughter by the fireside smoking his pipe, and then went early to bed. It was in the middle of the night that Agnes came to the house of her brother-in-law, and, knocking them up, told them that her father was dead. Very shortly after he had gone to rest he had called her to his room, complaining of a sharp pain in his side. There can be little doubt that his treatment of his daughter had unhinged his entire constitution; he cried aloud to God for mercy; he called upon his daughter for forgiveness; she prayed with him, and for him, and when it seemed that all was over she hurried away through the snow and the dark night to the house of her brother-in-law. But when he with his servants arrived it appeared that Agnes had been mistaken; the old man was not dead, but quite speechless, although he died almost immediately after. The impulse of resentment had most likely killed him, and yet it would seem that in the moment of death, or dying, it had passed entirely away from his mind.

So far, however, it seems there was nothing startlingly unusual in the circumstances; but probably many of our readers know how the death of a neighbour in a lone country hamlet excites attention and interest. The neighbours thronged to the old farmhouse-most of them to express their sympathy, and to express a wish to aid and comfort the lonely young girl in the house of death. But, among others, came Farry, the attorney, and he passed about very significantly saying that for his part Mr. Beaumont's death was no more than he expected. That which at first surprised and shocked presently grew into a suspicion, and it was through Farry that ultimately a coroner's inquest was called, and fixed some days after. Farry also had caused to spring up, and to be circulated in the neighbourhood round, a report that Agnes and Bunyan were in collusion together to obtain the old man's money, and to marry-which was a monstrous report, as Bunyan's wife was then living, and he, his wife, and children, all in happiest relationship. Moreover, there appears to have been no especial friendship between Agnes and Bunyan more than that which must necessarily exist between a pastor and one of his flock.

Farry appears to have been an eminently wicked man. The brother-in-law of Agnes was, with his wife, her sister, most faithful to her; but, horrified and shocked as they were, they could not avert

ing his intentions that they could only submit themselves and take thought for the tenderest way in which the matter might be broken to their sister. They had a practice in those times among such people of laying any matter of exceeding interest before God in prayer, as they called it. So, returning from Farry's house, the brother-inlaw and his wife called for Agnes, and the three spent some hours of that night in this manner, according to the usage of their people. Agnes as yet knew nothing of the trial through which she was to pass, and her sister and brother-in-law determined that she should rest for the night before they informed her; but early in the morning he said, weeping bitterly as he said it-which is very strange, considering that the men of those times were so hard as compared with ours-"Sister, pray God help you, for you are likely to meet with very hard things." She said, "What worse things can I meet with than those I have met with ?" "Yes, worse," he replied; "Mr. Farry declares that he believes you poisoned your father." It struck her with horror. Of course it was better

for her that she should know this before the inquest than that the knowledge of Farry's plot against her life should first be announced in the open court. Those were the days of circumstantial evidence. Evidence, indeed, was a very precarious and uncertain thing, and Farry had told her brother, apparently with some enjoyment that the punishment for such parricide, could she be found guilty, would be death by burning at the stake. It seems probable that even at this hour this base man had hoped that she would desire to purchase his silence by marriage, when he would have become possessed of the coveted property of which she was now the inheritor; and Farry was also quite bold in his assertions that she had been instigated to the crime by John Bunyan.

The inquest excited large attention. First the brother-in-law of Agnes and his men-servants, who had been called up in the night, gave their evidence, which was clear and simple enough; and then the coroner called for Farry, who probably had scarcely calculated upon the severe ordeal through which he would be called to pass. He had perhaps relied too much upon the prejudices against Bunyan, who had not been long released from his twelve years' imprisonment, or on the compliance of Agnes with his wishes. He might perhaps, therefore, be surprised when the coroner addressed him: "And now, sir, as you are the occasion of our coming together, we would know what you have to say about this maid's murdering her father, and on what grounds you accuse her?" He appears to have been considerably confused. Then he minutely related the circumstances of their disagreement, and dwelt upon the remarkable fact that her father died so immediately after the reconciliation. All this," said the coroner, "is nothing to the matter in hand; we are waiting for your evidences." But Farry had none to offer, and appears to have bungled and contradicted himself. And then Agnes was called upon, and

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about their verdict, whi amounted not only to satis of death, but also to the innocent girl. Agnes exp jury her wish that there sh examination of her father's clared their entire satisfacti fested even a kind of ten creature. "Sweetheart," whom we cannot but thin disposed to people of the E heart, do not be daunted; thy preferment, and provide withstanding the malice of these are hard things for or to meet with. Blessed be G and never fear but He will

Agnes was advised by h legal proceedings against wronged her. She refused to that she forgave him, and h tion. On the edge of the report had circulated that s crime, and Farry continued and when, in the course of a broke out in the village of which it was difficult to d active in circulating the rep cause of it. Such was his b

ing his ambition foiled, a methods he took to show woman whom he desired to course of time he made the who were of another kind of acquaintance. In the course years after, he adroitly a widow. The widow, unlike him nor prayed for him. she succeeded, in the pres first compelling him to ref then dragged him before a succeeded in procuring hi felony. The ancient Ada pleased and satisfied with th with the gentle treatment he Beaumont.

Such were some of the shadowed the early days of woman. In that course of f tian profession which brough in her father's house she co She appears to have been second husband's name was wealth and high Christian ch at Highgate, where she stoo for her virtue and intelligend at the age of sixty-eight, N But she had recorded her wi buried in the neighbourhood So her remains were taken they were interred in the bu to the Baptist chapel there, to which we have referred chapel.