It is thence hunted through nature, discovered in salt mines and springs, and pursued into all bodies which have a marine origin; among the rest, into sponge. A medical practitioner[12] then calls to mind a reputed remedy for the cure of one of the most grievous and unsightly disorders to which the human species is subject--the _goître_--which infests the inhabitants of mountainous districts to an extent that in this favoured land we have happily no experience of, and which was said to have been originally cured by the ashes of burnt sponge. Led by this indication he tries the effect of iodine on that complaint, and the result establishes the extraordinary fact that this singular substance, taken as a medicine, acts with the utmost promptitude and energy on _goître_, dissipating the largest and most inveterate in a short time, and acting (of course, like all medicines, even the most approved, with occasional failures,) as a specific, or natural antagonist, against that odious deformity. It is thus that any accession to our knowledge of nature is sure, sooner or later, to make itself felt in some practical application, and that a benefit conferred on science by the casual observation or shrewd remark of even an unscientific or illiterate person infallibly repays itself with interest, though often in a way that could never have been at first contemplated. (44.) It is to such observation, reflected upon, however, and matured into a rational and scientific form by a mind deeply imbued with the best principles of sound philosophy, that we owe the practice of vaccination; a practice which has effectually subdued, in every country where it has been introduced, one of the most frightful scourges of the human race, and in some extirpated it altogether. Happily for us we know only by tradition the ravages of the small-pox, as it existed among us hardly more than a century ago, and as it would in a few years infallibly exist again, were the barriers which this practice, and that of inoculation, oppose to its progress abandoned. Hardly inferior to this terrible scourge on land was, within the last seventy or eighty years, the scurvy at sea. The sufferings and destruction produced by this horrid disorder on board our ships when, as a matter of course, it broke out after a few months’ voyage, seem now almost incredible. Deaths to the amount of eight or ten a day in a moderate ship’s company; bodies sewn up in hammocks and washing about the decks for want of strength and spirits on the part of the miserable survivors to cast them overboard; and every form of loathsome and excruciating misery of which the human frame is susceptible:--such are the pictures which the narratives of nautical adventure in those days continually offer.[13] At present the scurvy is almost completely eradicated in the navy, partly, no doubt, from increased and increasing attention to general cleanliness, comfort, and diet; but mainly from the constant