man in two. Two serving-men jumped up, with two water-pails, grinning in devilish glee, and both went to work harder than ever. The poor student gave him self up for lost, when luckily the master came home, dismissed the over-officious water carrier with a word, and saved the student’s life.
How thoroughly false all these absurd fictions are, and yet how ingeniously based on some fact, appears by the case of Agrippa’s black dog. Wierus a writer of good authority, and a personal friend of Agrippa’s, reports that he knew very well all about the dog; that it was not a superhuman dog at all, but (if the term be admissable) a mere human dog—an animal which he, Wierus, had often led about by a string, and only a domestic pet of Agrippa.
Another eminent magician of those days was Doctor Faustus, about whom Goethe wrote “Faust,” Bailey wrote “Festus,” and whose story, mingled of human love and of the devilish tricks of Mephistopheles, is known so very widely. The truth about Faust seems to be, that he was simply a successful juggler of the sixteenth century. Yet the wonderful stories about him were very implicitly and extensively believed. It was the time of the Protestant Reformation, and even Melanchthon and Luther seem to have entirely believed that Faustus could make the forms of the dead appear, could carry people invisibly through the air, and play all the legendary tricks of the enchanters. So strong a hold does humbug often obtain even upon the noblest and clearest and wisest minds!
Faustus, according to the traditions, had a pretty
