It would be wrong to neglect stating here, that if the masters whose astonishing knowledge and power Felix admired, mingled the mysteries of religion with their theories and principles, he by no means disregarded them. If it be true, (and who doubts it?) that in the antediluvian age, men had lived so many years as to make life resemble a sweet and pleasant immortality upon earth, a very remarkable change must have been effected since then. In the opinions of his masters, that this long life had been the result of a closer communion with the divine element, of social intercourse with the many good spirits supposed to inhabit and abound in space, and of possessing a controlling power over the evil ones, he saw no poetry, but the serious truths of philosophy. Here, then, there had been sufficient to attract his attention to the mysterious portions of his Bible, just as the disbeliever is drawn to those which human intellect is incapable of solving or reconciling. His researches, however, had a less ruinous effect, for they perplexed only himself, and did no harm to others. He pursued his studies, boiled his mystic herbs, applied his minerals, made his magic mixtures, and resolved his wild problems, constantly expecting some answer from regions which he was incapable of penetrating. His failures never daunted him, for the doctrines of his masters had been too well settled in his mind, and he was too thoroughly convinced of their accuracy, to permit a supposition of their untruth. He was neither so vain nor impatient as to reproach his predecessors because he had failed to meet with equal success, but ascribed his repeated disappointments to his own deficiencies and imperfections. He had been too intent upon his studies to have much concerned himself about the villagers, who, ever since the meeting of the evening party before described, suspected his motives and feared his designs. Not knowing what evils he might bring upon them, and impelled by a very troublesome curiosity, they imagined the worst, so naturally are we given to exaggeration; and now began to refuse supplying him with the requisite comforts of life, thus expecting to bring matters to a decisive point. This, at last, compelled him to greater sociability, but he refused to become communicative. Though asked a thousand times, directly and indirectly, concerning his solitary pursuits, he had as many civil and respectful answers, leaving his questioners as ignorant as they were before. At length, however, the curiosity of the village triumphed. A young rogue, more cautious and cunning than the rest, ascertained what were his employments, and smiled at the great consternation caused by the discovery. He adorned his tale with all the poetry of his rough fancy, and so interwove it with marvels and falsehoods that it gave ample proof that he would have made a much better alchemist than Felix. His story fully realized the imaginings of the wildest magician, and soon succeeded in persuading