Now the steeple of _Strasburg_ being the biggest and the tallest church-steeple to be seen in the whole world, the Anti-nosarians denied that a nose of 575 geometrical feet in length could be worn, at least by a middle-siz’d man——The Popish doctors swore it could—The _Lutheran_ doctors said No;—it could not. This at once started a new dispute, which they pursued a great way, upon the extent and limitation of the moral and natural attributes of God—That controversy led them naturally into _Thomas Aquinas_, and _Thomas Aquinas_ to the devil. The stranger’s nose was no more heard of in the dispute—it just served as a frigate to launch them into the gulph of school-divinity——and then they all sailed before the wind. Heat is in proportion to the want of true knowledge. The controversy about the attributes, &c. instead of cooling, on the contrary had inflamed the _Strasburgers_ imaginations to a most inordinate degree——The less they understood of the matter the greater was their wonder about it—they were left in all the distresses of desire unsatisfied——saw their doctors, the _Parchmentarians_, the _Brassarians_, the _Turpentarians_, on one side—the Popish doctors on the other, like _Pantagruel_ and his companions in quest of the oracle of the bottle, all embarked out of sight. ——The poor _Strasburgers_ left upon the beach! ——What was to be done?—No delay—the uproar increased——every one in disorder——the city gates set open.—— Unfortunate _Strasbergers!_ was there in the store-house of nature——was there in the lumber-rooms of learning——was there in the great arsenal of chance, one single engine left undrawn forth to torture your curiosities, and stretch your desires, which was not pointed by the hand of Fate to play upon your hearts?——I dip not my pen into my ink to excuse the surrender of yourselves—’tis to write your panegyrick. Shew me a city so macerated with expectation——who neither eat, or drank, or slept, or prayed, or hearkened to the calls either of religion or nature, for seven-and-twenty days together, who could have held out one day longer. On the twenty-eighth the courteous stranger had promised to return to _Strasburg._ Seven thousand coaches (_Slawkenbergius_ must certainly have made some mistake in his numeral characters) 7000 coaches——15000 single-horse chairs—20000 waggons, crowded as full as they could all hold with senators, counsellors, syndicks—beguines, widows, wives, virgins, canons, concubines, all in their coaches—The abbess of _Quedlingberg_, with the prioress, the deaness and sub-chantress, leading the procession in one coach, and the dean of _Strasburg_, with the four great dignitaries of his chapter, on her left-hand—the rest following higglety-pigglety as they could; some on horseback——some on foot——some led——some driven——some down the _Rhine_——some this way——some that——all set out at sun-rise to meet the courteous stranger on the road.