bodies, and which no clod or coffin can
confine; that the spirit of humanity consists,
accordingly, of carbonic acid, sulphuretted
hydrogen, and the like. Lucian was asked
whether this was true, and replied, Yes, that
it was quite correct. Moreover, that although
such gases could and did without difficulty
make themselves heard, yet it was more
inevitable that they should be smelt, and that
they were really often smelt when no one
heard them. Upon reflection the querist
agreed that this was true, and asked whether,
in communicating with the public as a
lecturer—which Lucian proposed to do—he
could not facilitate communication and hasten
the work of the interpreter, not only by
having recourse to sights and sounds, but to
smells also. He said that he could and would.
It was agreed, therefore, that at the proposed
entertainment, he, the spirit of Lucian, should
deliver his own narrative in a continuous
series of sounds aided by smells, which should
be interpreted as they were made by James
Gulliver and Araminta Fraude. That, as he
would be disposed to make his lecture
entertaining by much personal allusion, it would
be convenient to represent to the nose certain
ideas frequently recurring, such as names of
things or persons; that in especial he would
represent Miss Fraude by a smell of
ammonia, himself by a smell of sulphuretted
hydrogen, or rotten eggs, James Gulliver by
an odour as of strong garlic, and the public
present at the entertainment by a smell of
greens.

The travels of Lucian, as he will deliver
them, have been for many centuries before
the world in Greek, but as they are almost
unknown in English, and are peculiarly
calculated to obtain credit in the present day, the
following brief sketch of a portion of them is
appended, together with an indication of the
mode of illustration by which it is hoped to
make them popular in London. The lectures
will probably be delivered in the Moorish
Palace, Leicester Square.

Lucian stated, and will repeat the statement,
that he embarked with fifty men in a
well-rigged ship, and went out from between
the Pillars of Hercules into the Atlantic
Ocean. There they were storm-tost for
seventy-nine days. At this part of the
narrative, the room will become filled with a
dense smoke, through the cloud of which
the vessel will be seen tossing, until it is cast—
as Lucian will explain that he was cast—upon
a mighty island, where they at first saw
nobody and nothing but two footprints on
the rock, those of Bacchus and Hercules,
that of Hercules being about an acre larger
than the other. Having worshipped Bacchus
in the hole made by his shoe, they travelled
inland and came to a river running Chian
wine, and at the spring of it they found
vines laden with large grapes, from which
the whole stream of that river was distilled.
The river swarmed with fish which had
the taste of wine, and which being opened
were found full of lees. Several carp swimming
in port wine will at this period of the
entertainment be sent round to be tasted by
the company.

Lucian was, however, dreadfully alarmed,
and lost two of his companions among the
tendrils of a vineyard, whereof the vines
were lovely women that had green stocks
for their bodies, and a head-gear of tendrils
interwoven with grape clusters, and ripe
grapes growing at their fingers' ends.
Escaped from the clinging tendrils of these
vines, Lucian and his party—who will be
represented flying from the magic vineyard
over the surface of a large transparency—
set sail again, and through ill luck were
overtaken by a whirlwind which lifted their ship
out of the water to the altitude of three
hundred thousand fathoms, and so altered its
course that it continued sailing through the
air, until on the eighth night it touched on a
round shining island. When they had
advanced a little way into that country they
were taken by the native Hippogypians, who
are men mounted upon vultures that have
three heads. The wings of these birds are
as large as a ship's sail, and their legs
are like the legs gf ducks. One of these
interesting creatures, stuffed, will be
exhibited.

The captives were carried before the king
of that island called the Lunar Globe, who
proved to be no other than Endymion. His
portrait was sketched by an artist of the
party and will be found among the drawings
illustrative of the lecture. Endymion, who
knew the prisoners by their dress to be
honest men and Greeks, promised them good
cheer, provided he got well off in his war
with the Heliots or sun-men, whose king,
Phaeton, contested with Endymion for the
right of sending a colony to the morning
star, which is a desert island. Lucian, astride
upon a vulture, took part in the great battle,
which he has described and will describe
again in a spirited way. The battle was so
dreadful that the blood soaked through the
clouds and dyed them as they are seen
sometimes to be dyed at sunset. The Lunatics
being victorious, piled up among the clouds
a lofty trophy, but while they were dispersed
in triumph, they were fallen upon by a
reserve guard of wind-monsters who swept
all the trophies down and chased Endymion's
army home, whither he was followed also
by Phaeton and all his rallied host. Lucian
was among others taken prisoner and carried
to the sun. A wall of circumvallation, built
of clouds, was raised about the moon, so that
it received no more light; but in the end
Phaeton abated his displeasure, and for a
tribute of ten thousand vessels of dew yearly,
he agreed to terms of peace, which were
engraved upon a plate of amber, placed upon
the boundary line between the realms of
night and day.