An old Swede, Luen Laock, one of the first Swedish clergymen that came to Pennsylvania, told the traveler Kalm, that in his younger days, he had once been very much frightened by a Cockroach, which crept into his ear while he was asleep. Waking suddenly, he jumped out of bed, which caused the insect, most probably out of fear, to strive with all its strength to get deeper into his skull, producing such excruciating pain that he imagined his head was bursting, and he almost fell senseless to the floor. Hastening, however, to the well, he drew a bucket of water, and threw some in his ear. The Roach then finding itself in danger of being drowned, quickly pushed out backward, and as quickly delivered the poor Swede from his pain and fears.[248] The proverbial expression “Sound as a Roach” is supposed to have been derived from familiarity with the legend and attributes of the Saint Roche,--the esteemed saint of all afflicted with the plague, a disease of common occurrence in England when the streets were narrow, and without sewers, houses without boarded floors, and our ancestors without linen. They believed that the miraculous St. Roche could make them as “sound” as himself.[249] A quite common superstitious practice, in order to rid a house of Cockroaches, is in vogue in our country at the present time. It is no other than to address these pests a written letter containing the following words, or to this effect: “O, Roaches, you have troubled me long enough, go now and trouble my neighbors.” This letter must be put where they most swarm, after sealing and going through with the other customary forms of letter writing. It is well, too, to write legibly and punctuate according to rule. Another receipt for driving away Cockroaches is as follows: Close in an envelope several of these insects, and drop it in the street unseen, and the remaining Roaches will all go to the finder of the parcel. It is also said that if a looking-glass be held before Roaches, they will be so frightened as to leave the premises. A firm, which has been established in London for seven years, and which manufactures exclusively poison known to the trade as the “Phosphor Paste for the Destruction of Black-beetles, Cockroaches, rats, mice,” etc., has given to Mr. Mayhew the following information: “We have now sold this vermin poison for seven years, but we have never had an application for our composition from any street-seller. We have seen, a year or two since, a man about London who used to sell beetle-wafers; but as we knew that kind of article to be entirely useless, we were not surprised to find that he did not succeed in making a living. We have not heard of him for some time, and have no doubt he is dead, or has taken up some other line of employment.