John Josselyn, Gent., an Englishman, but no Puritan, who spent some time in New England, chiefly at Scarborough in Maine, published, in 1672, in England, a little book under the title of “New England’s Rarities Discovered.” Some things which Josselyn “discovered” would be rarities indeed to this generation. For instance, he describes the appearance of several prodigious apparitions--all of which has a value in enabling us properly to gauge the tone and temper of popular feeling where the book was written, and where it was published. One of his “rarities” is worth repeating here, if only for the pretty sentiment it embodies. He says of the twittering chimney-swallows, “that when about to migrate they commonly throw down (the chimney) one of their young into the room below, by way of gratitude,” presumably in return for the hospitalities of the house. He then goes on to say, “I have more than once observed that, against the ruin of a family, these birds will forsake the house and come no more.” This comes from a more or less close observer, who himself occupied the relation we desire to establish, namely that of a transplanted Englishman, so thoroughly grounded in old superstition that all the marvels he relates are told with an air of truth quite refreshing. An amusing instance of how far prevalent superstition can lead astray minds usually enlightened is soberly set forth in Governor Winthrop’s celebrated history. It is a fit corollary to the organ superstition, just narrated. “Mr. Winthrop the younger, one of the magistrates, having many books in a chamber, where there was corn of divers sorts, had among them one wherein the Greek Testament, the Psalter and the Common Prayer were bound together. He found the Common Prayer eaten with mice, every leaf of it, and not any of the two other touched, nor any other of his books, though there were above a thousand.” All these superstitious beliefs were solemnly bequeathed by the fathers to their children under the sanction of a severe penal code, together with all the accumulated traditions of their own immediate ancestors. And in some form or other, whether masquerading under some thin disguise or foolish notion, superstition has continued from that day to this. As Polonius says: “... ’Tis true, ’tis pity; And pity ’tis ’tis true.” Although a great many popular beliefs may seem puerile in the extreme, they none the less go to establish the fact to be kept in mind. Since I began to look into the matter I have been most astonished at the number of very intelligent persons who take care to conform to prevailing beliefs in things lucky or the reverse. It is true Lord Bacon tells us that “in all superstitions wise men follow fools.” But this blunt declaration of his has undoubted reference to the schoolmen, and to the monastic legends which were such powerful aids in fostering the growth of superstition as it existed long before Bacon’s time:--