It cannot be denied but that Christianity is adorned with the spoils of Judaism and Paganism: our best authors are of that opinion; among others Duchoul, at the end of his treatise concerning the religion of the old Romans, ingenuously owns the conformity there is between the ceremonies of the Christians and those of the Romans and Egyptians. Such being the case, it will not be thought extraordinary that many of the modern miracles, so famed in Italy, should be the identical prodigies of former times; for, in order to accelerate the conversion of the Gentiles, the first Popes found it necessary to dissemble, and to wink at many things, so as to effect a compromise between the original superstition and the modern creed. The melting of the blood of St. Januarius, at Naples, when with great solemnity, it is applied to his head, on the day of his festival--whilst at other times it continues dry in the glass--is one of the standing and authentic miracles of Italy; yet Mr. Addison, who twice saw it performed, says that, instead of appearing to be a real miracle, he thought it one of the most bungling tricks he had ever seen, and believed it to be copied from a similar heathen miracle, the melting of the incense, without the help of fire, at Gnatia, as described by Horace in his journey to Brundusium: Dum, flammâ sine, thura liquescere limine sacro Persuadere cupit. Another eye-witness to the same miracle, Dr. Duan, says, “he approached through the crowd till he got close to the bust of St. Januarius. The archbishop had been attempting to perform the miracle, and an old monk stood by, who was at the utmost pains to instruct him how to handle, chafe, and rub the bottle which contained the blood. He frequently, also, took it in his own hands, but his manœuvres were as ineffectual as those of the archbishop, who was all over in a profuse sweat with vexation and exertion, fearing lest the people might interpret so unpropitious an omen against him. The old monk, with a genuine expression of chagrin, exclaimed, ‘Cospetto di Bacco, e dura come una pietra.’[5] An universal gloom overspread the multitude. Some were in a rage at the saint’s obstinacy, and called his head an ungrateful yellow-faced rascal. It was now almost dark, and, when least expected, the signal was given that the miracle was performed. A Roman Catholic, who remained close by the archbishop, assured me this miracle failed altogether; the bottle was turned with a rapid motion before the eyes of the spectators, who would not contradict that which they were all expecting to see.”