na," though he found it
"hard to make her take it," delicate, and of course sensitive, child as
she was, languishing and dying before her time, in spite of all the
bitter things she swallowed,--God help all little children in the hands
of dosing doctors and howling dervishes! Restless Samuel Gorton, now
tamed by the burden of fourscore and two years, writes so touching an
account of his infirmities, and expresses such overflowing gratitude for
the relief he has obtained from the Governor's prescriptions, wondering
how "a thing so little in quantity, so little in sent, so little in
taste, and so little to sence in operation, should beget and bring forth
such efects," that we repent our hasty exclamation, and bless the memory
of the good Governor, who gave relief to the worn-out frame of our
long-departed brother, the sturdy old heretic of Rhode Island.

What was that medicine which so frequently occurs in the printed letters
under the name of "rubila"? It is evidently a secret remedy, and, so far
as I know, has not yet been made out. I had almost given it up in
despair, when I found what appears to be a key to the mystery. In the
vast multitude of prescriptions contained in the manuscripts, most of
them written in symbols, I find one which I thus interpret:

"Four grains of (diaphoretic) antimony, with twenty grains of nitre, with
a little salt of tin, making rubila." Perhaps something was added to
redden the powder, as he constantly speaks of "rubifying" or "viridating"
his prescriptions; a very common practice of prescribers, when their
powders look a little too much like plain salt or sugar.

Waitstill Winthrop, the Governor's son, "was a skilful physician," says
Mr. Sewall, in his funeral sermon; "and generously gave, not only his
advice, but also his Medicines, for the healing of the Sick, which, by
the Blessing of God, were made successful for the recovery of many."
"His son John, a member of the Royal Society, speaks of himself as 'Dr.
Winthrop,' and mentions one of his own prescriptions in a letter to
Cotton Mather." Our President tells me that there was an heirloom of the
ancient skill in his family, within his own remembrance, in the form of a
certain precious eye-water, to which the late President John Quincy Adams
ascribed rare virtue, and which he used to obtain from the possessor of
the ancient recipe.

These inherited prescriptions are often treasured in families, I do not
doubt, for many generations. W