It is easy for an ignorant and superstitious mind to confound a very harmless and simple instrument with one of magical power. We have an example of this in Dodwell’s description of his residence at Athens. On his first admission within the venerable walls of the Acropolis, it was necessary to offer a small present to the disdar, or Turkish governor, and an additional sum to make drawings and observations without being molested by the servants of the garrison. The disdar proved to be a man of bad faith and insatiable rapacity, and, after experiencing numerous vexations from the mercenary Turk, Dodwell was at length released from his importunities by a singular circumstance. As he was one day engaged in drawing the Parthenon, with the aid of his camera obscura, the disdar, whose surprise was excited by the novelty of the sight, asked, with a sort of fretful inquietude, what new conjuration he was performing with that extraordinary machine. Dodwell endeavoured to explain it, by putting in a clean sheet of paper, and making him look at the instrument; but he no sooner saw the Temple of Minerva reflected on the paper in all its lines and colours, than he imagined the effect was produced by some magical process; his astonishment appeared mingled with alarm, and, stroking his long black beard, he repeated several times the words Allah, Masch-Allah--a term of admiration with the Turks, signifying that which is made by God. Again he looked into the camera obscura, with a kind of cautious diffidence, and, at that moment, some of his soldiers happening to pass before the reflecting-glass, were beheld by the astonished disdar walking upon the paper. He now became outrageous; he assailed Dodwell with various opprobrious epithets, one of which was Bonaparte--the appellation being at the time synonymous to that of magician, or of any one supposed to be endowed with supernatural talents--and declared that, if Dodwell chose, he might take away all the stones in the temple, but that he would not permit his soldiers to be conjured into a box. “When I found,” says Dodwell, “that it was no use to reason with his ignorance, I changed my tone, and told him that, if he did not leave me unmolested, I would put him into my box; and that he should find it a very difficult matter to get out again. His alarm was now visible; he immediately retired, and ever after stared at me with a mixture of apprehension and amazement. When he saw me come to the Acropolis, he carefully avoided my approach; and never afterwards gave me any further molestation.” [Illustration]