him from too harsh a judgment; but he traded in perilous stuff.
Cheap prophecy was his staple. It was his wont to give out about
once in five years, that the world would shortly come to an end,
and, like Mr. Zadkiel, he found people who thought their
inevitable disappointment a proof of his inspiration. Had you
heard the honeyed words dropping from his lips, you would have
taken him for a Scotch angel, and, consequently, a rarity. Could
such lips utter harsh sayings, or distil vanities? Show him a
priest, and you would hear! The Pope was his particular born
foe; Popery his enemies' country--so he said. It was safe for
him to stand and throw his darts. No one could say whether they
hit or did not; while most spectators had the good will to hope
that they did. How he would have lived if Daniel and St. John
had dreamed no dreams, one cannot conjecture. As it was, they
provided the doctor with endless openings for his fancy. Since
no one could solve the riddle of their prophecies, it was certain
that no one could disprove his solutions. Yet these came so
often to their own disproof by lapse of time, that I can only
think that the good doctor hoped to die before his critical
periods came, or was so clever as to trust the infallibility of
human weakness.

I describe Dr. Lucas at so great a length, because it will be
easier and more edifying to the reader to conceive what he said,
than for me to recount it. He showed the Baby to be one of seven
mysteries. He was in favor of teaching him at once to hate
idolatry, music, crosses, masses, nuns, priests, bishops, and
cardinals. The "humanities," the Shorter Catechism, the
Confession of Faith, and "The whole Duty of Man," would, in his
opinion, be the books to lay the groundwork in the child's mind