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Mr. RICHARDS dedicates his book to the Hon. Demas Barnes of New York, to whom, he says, he owed his first success in life. His aim is to trace the growth of the healing art, showing its gradual triumph over ignorance and superstition. For a long time it seemed as if superstition had won the day. Old Egypt had its witches and its talismans; but it also had the clinical lectures of its priests, doctors, and its official pharmacopoeia, neither of which England can claim till the 17th century. In our author's language, it was only when other sciences waited on medicine, that she opened her heart and disclosed chemistry, the handmaid for whose coming healing had waited thousands of years. Medicine among the Egyptians (of which Jeremiah speaks), among the Jews, in old Greece and Rome, and in mediaeval Europe, all furnish interesting chapters; and the rest of the volume deals with our own country, medicine in the State papers opening up a subject which might with advantage be pursued further.Of quacks, Mr. Richards has some curious anecdotes. One man advertised water from the Pool of Bethesda, to be taken only when it became troubled. The buyer of a half-guinea bottle came to complain that he had had it some months without the water showing any signs of agitation, Oh, was the reply, in a little bottle like that the movement is so slight as to be scarcely visible: buy a five-guinea bottle and it will be apparent to everybody in the house. Mr. Richards's cuttings from old newspapers show that, though advertising had not yet become a science, yet it used more than a hundred years ago to be practised with success in puffing the strangest nostrums. His notes of celebrated medical men, from Linacre (about whom he has got some new facts) to Liebig, are well worth reading. Of course there are the stock anecdotes about Abernethy, who gave back the shilling out of his guinea to a lady patient to buy her a skipping-rope; but the story of Dr. Mamsey and the bank-notes which he rescued, first from the hiding which he had placed them in behind the grate, forgetting to forbid his servants to light a fire, and then from the river into which their charred remains blew as he was taking them to the bank, will be new to most readers.- The London Quarterly and Holborn Review, Vol. 55

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