nt of six days.' To which
it is added, by way of final corollary, that after Cain had killed Abel,
he could not have destroyed Eve, supposing her to have been the only
woman in existence; for then there must have been another creation, and
a second rib of Adam must have been animated.

We must not, however, linger too long with these singular speculations,
for it is probable that phoenix-fanciers are becoming rare. It is enough
to say briefly, that if anyone wishes to understand the natural history
of the basilisk, the griffin, the salamander, the cockatrice, or the
amphisboena--if he wishes to know whether a chameleon lives on air, and
an ostrich on horseshoes--whether a carbuncle gives light in the dark,
whether the Glastonbury thorn bore flowers on Christmas-day, whether the
mandrake 'naturally groweth under gallowses,' and shrieks 'upon
eradication,'--on these and many other such points he may find grave
discussions in Sir Thomas Browne's pages. He lived in the period when it
was still held to be a sufficient proof of a story that it was written
in a book, especially if the book were Latin; and some persons, such as
Alexander Ross, whose memory is preserved only by the rhyme in
'Hudibras,' argued gravely against his scepticism.[5] For Sir Thomas, in
spite of his strange excursions into the marvellous, inclines for the
most part to the sceptical side of the question. He was not insensible
to the growing influence of the scientific spirit, though he believed
implicitly in witchcraft, spoke with high respect of alchemy and
astrology, and refused to believe that the earth went round the sun. He
feels that his favourite creatures are doomed to extinction, and though
dealing lovingly with them, speaks rather like an attached mourner at
their funerals than a physician endeavouring to maintain their
flickering vitality. He tries experiments and has a taste for
dissection. He proves by the evidence of his senses, and believes them
in spite of the general report, that a dead kingfisher will not turn its
breast to the wind. He convinced himself that if two magnetic needles
were placed in the centre of rings marked with the alphabet (an odd
anticipation of the electric telegraph, _minus_ the wires), they would
not point to the same letter by an occult sympathy. His arguments are
often to the point, though overlaid with a strange accretion of the
fabulous. In discussing the question of the blackness of negroes, he
may remind ben