ers that follow the hateful offense against Christianity,
which men call war, were severely felt in England during the peace that
ensued on the overthrow of Napoleon at Waterloo. With rare exceptions,
distress prevailed among all classes of the community. The starving
nation was ripe and ready for a revolutionary rising against its rulers,
who had shed the people's blood and wasted the people's substance in
a war which had yielded to the popular interests absolutely nothing in
return.

Among the unfortunate persons who were driven, during the disastrous
early years of this century, to strange shifts and devices to obtain
the means of living, was a certain obscure medical man, of French
extraction, named Lagarde. The Doctor (duly qualified to bear the title)
was an inhabitant of London; living in one of the narrow streets which
connect the great thoroughfare of the Strand with the bank of the
Thames.

The method of obtaining employment chosen by poor Lagarde, as the one
alternative left in the face of starvation, was, and is still considered
by the medical profession to be, the method of a quack. He advertised in
the public journals.

Addressing himself especially to two classes of the community, the
Doctor proceeded in these words:

"I have the honor of inviting to my house, in the first place: Persons
afflicted with maladies which ordinary medical practice has failed to
cure--and, in the second place: Persons interested in investigations,
the object of which is to penetrate the secrets of the future. Of the
means by which I endeavor to alleviate suffering and to enlighten
doubt, it is impossible to speak intelligibly within the limits of an
advertisement. I can only offer to submit my system to public inquiry,
without exacting any preliminary fee from ladies and gentlemen who may
honor me with a visit. Those who see sufficient reason to trust
me, after personal experience, will find a money-box fixed on the
waiting-room table, into which they can drop their offerings according
to their means. Those whom I am not fortunate enough to satisfy will be
pleased to accept the expression of my regret, and will not be expected
to give anything. I shall be found at home every evening between the
hours of six and ten."

Toward the close of the year 1816 this strange advertisement became a
general topic of conversation among educated people in London. For some
weeks the Doctor's invitations were generally accepted--and, all