beast, and broil them on the fire, till they have mangled her all to pieces; nay, sometimes they will only cut off as much as will satisfy their present appetites, and let her go, till their greedy stomachs calls for a new supply; such horrible cruelty, as can scarce be paralleled in the whole world! Their theft is so well known, that it needs no proving; they are forced to keep watch over all they have, to secure it; their cattle are watched day and night, or otherwise they would be overgrown by morning. In the highlands, they do it publickly before the face of the sun; if one man has two cows, and another wants, he shall soon supply himself from his neighbour, who can find no remedy for it. The gentry keep an armory in their own houses, furnished with several sorts of fire-arms, pikes, and halberds, with which they arm their followers, to secure themselves from the rapine of their neighbourhood, The lowland language may be well enough understood by an Englishman, but the highlanders have a peculiar lingua to themselves, which they call Erst, unknown to most of the lowland men, ex, cept only in those places that border on them, where they can speak both: Yet, these people are so currish, that, if a stranger inquire the way in English, they will certainly answer in Erst, and find no other language than what is forced from them with a cudgel. If Cornelius Agrippa had travelled Scotland, sure cookery had not been found in his vanity of sciences; such is their singular skill in this art, that they may defy the world to rival them. King James's treat for the devil, that is, a poll of ling, a joll of sturgeon, and a pig, with a pipe of tobacco for di gestion, had been very complete, if the ordering thereof had been assigned to a cook of this country, who can suit every dish, with its proper hogoe, and bring corruption to your table, only to mind men of mortality. Their meat is carrion when it is killed, but, after it has been a fortnight a perfuming with the aromatick air, strained through the clammy trunks of flesh-flies, then it passes the trial of fire under the care of one of those exquisite artists, and is dished up in a sea of sweet Scotch butter, and so covered and served hot up to the table. O how happy is he that is placed next to it, with a privilege to uncover it, and receive the hot steams of this dainty dish, almost sufficient to cure all distempers. It will be needless to instance, in particulars so plain and evident to all that have travelled through the country, that they may certainly bear away the bell from all their neighbouring nations, or, indeed, from the whole world. Their nobility and gentry have tables plentifully enough furnished, but few or none of them have their meat better ordered. To put one's head into their kitchen-doors, is little less than destructive; to enter hell alive, where the black fairies are busied in mangling dead carcases, and the fire and brimstone, or rather stew and stink, is ready to suffocate you; and yet, which is strange, these things are agreeable to the humours of the people. The poorer sort live of haddock, whiting, and sowre milk, which is cried up and down their streets, whea buyes sawer milk,' and upon the stinking fragments that are left at their laird's

table. Prodigious stomachs, that, like the Gulon, can feed on their own excrements, and strain their meat through their stomachs, to have the pleasure of devouring it again!

Their drink is ale made of beer-malt, and tunned up in a small vessel, called a cogue. After it has stood a few hours, they drink it out of the cogue, yest and all. The better sort brew it in larger quantities, and drink it in wooden queighs, but it is sorry stuff, yet excellent for preparing birdlime. But wine is the great drink with the gentry, which they pour in like fishes, as if it were their natural element. The glasses, they drink out of, are considerably large, and they always fill them to the brim, and away with it. Some of them have arrived at the perfection to tope brandy at the same rate. Sure these are a bowl above Bacchus, and of right ought to have a nobler throne than a hogshead.

Musick they have, but not the harmony of the spheres, but loud terrene noises, like the bellowing of beasts. The loud bagpipe is their chief delight; stringed instruments are too soft to penetrate the organs of their ears that are only pleased with sounds of substance.

The highways in Scotland are tolerably good, which is the greatest comfort a traveller meets with amongst them. They have not inns, but change-houses (as they call them) poor small cottages, where you must be content to take what you find, perhaps eggs with chucks in them, and some lang-cale; at the better sort of them, a dish of chopped chickens, which they esteem a dainty Idish, and will take it unkindly if you do not eat very heartily of it, though, for the most part, you may make a meal with the sight of the fare, and be satisfied with the steam only, like the inhabitants of the world in the moon. Your horses must be sent to a stabler's (for the change-houses have no lodging for them) where they may feed voluptuously on straw only, for grass is not to be had; and hay is so much a stranger to them, that they are scarce familiar with the name of it.

The Scotch gentry commonly travel from one friend's house to another, so seldom make use of a change-house. Their way is to hire a horse and a man for two-pence a mile. They ride on the horse thirty or forty miles a day; and the man, who is his guide, foots it beside him, and carries his luggage to boot. The best sort keep only a horse or two for themselves and their best friend, all the rest of the train foot it beside them. The commonalty are so used to worship and adore their lairds, that, when they see a stranger in any tolerable equipage, they honour him with the title of laird, at least, An't please you, my laird such a one, or an't please you, my laird Dr.' at every bare word, forsooth.

The nobility shew themselves very great before strangers. They are conducted into the house by many of their servants, where the lord, with his troop of shadows, receives them with the grand paw, then enter into some discourse of their country, till you are presented with a great queigh of syrup of beer; after that a glass of white-wine, then a rummer of claret, and sometimes after that a

glass of sherry-sack, and then begin the round with ale, again, and ply you briskly, for it is their way of shewing you are welcome, by making you drunk. If you have longer time to stay, you stick close to claret, till Bacchus wins the field, and leaves the conquered victims groveling on the place where they received their overthrow. At your departure you must drink a Dongha Doras, in English, a stirrup-cup, and have the satisfaction to have my lord's bagpipe (with his loud pipes, with his lordship's coat of armour on a flag) strut about you, and enchant you with a Loth to depart.'

Their money is commonly dollars, or mark-pieces, coined at Edinburgh; but their way of reckoning is surprising to a stranger. To receive a bill of an hundred pounds in one of their changehouses, when one would not suppose they had any of the value of an hundred pence. They call a penny a shilling, and every twenty shillings, viz. twenty pence, a pound; so the proportion of their pound to ours is twelve to one. Strangers are sure to be grosly imposed upon in all their change-houses, and there is no redress for it. If an Englishman should complain to their magistrates, they would all take a part against him, and make sure to squeese him.

The conclusion of the abridgment of the Scotch Chronicle, is the rare and wonderful things of that country; as in Orkney, their ewes bring forth two lambs a piece; that in the northermost of Shetland Islands, about the summer solstice, there is no night; that in the park of Cumbernaule are white kine and oxen; that at Slanes there is a petrifying water in a cove; that at Aberdeen is a vitrioline well, that they say is excellent to dissolve the stone, and expel sand from the reins and bladder, and good for the cholick, being drunk in July, &c. These prodigious wonders in one country are admirable, but these are not half of them. Lougness never freezes; in Lough Lommond are fishes without fins: And, 2dly, The waters thereof rage in great waves without wind, in calm weather: And, 3dly, and lastly, Therein is a floating island. In Kyle is a deaf rock, twelve feet every way, yet a gun, discharged on one side of it, shall not be heard to the other. In another place is a rocking-stone of a reasonable bigness, that, if a man push it with his finger, it will move very lightly, but, if he address his whole force, it availeth nothing; with many more marvels of like nature, which I would rather believe than go thither to dis. prove. To conclude, the whole bulk and selvedge of this country is all wonder too great for me to unriddle; there I shall leave it as I found it, with its agreeable inhabitants in

A land where one may pray, with curst intent,
Oh! may they never suffer banishment,

THE QUEEN'S WELLS:

THAT IS,

A Treatise of the Nature and Vertues of Tunbridge Water.

Together with an Enumeration of the chiefest Diseases, which it is good for, and against which it may be used, and the Manner and Order of taking it.

BY LODOWICK ROWZEE,

Doctor of Physick, practising at Ashford, in Kent.

Loudon: Printed for Robert Boulter, at the Turk's-Head, in Bishopsgate-street. 1670. Octavo, containing eighty-two Pages.

CHAP. 1.

Of Water in General.

LTHOUGH my main scope in this following discourse be concerning Tunbridge water, yet will it not be altogether fruitless or unpleasant, I hope, to the reader, if I say something, as it were, by way of preface, touching water in general. Water is a substance so absolutely necessary, that no living creature can subsist without the benefit of it, nor no tree bring forth its leaves and fruit, nor any plant its seed, if they be deprived of that vivifical moisture, which maketh them all to grow and prosper. That this is true, you may observe it in summer, for, if rain be wanting but a few weeks, how backward be all things? How do all plants wither in that season when they should chiefly flourish? For this cause, perhaps, it was, that Hesiod thought water to be the most ancient of all the elements. Of this opinion also was Thales Milesius, one of the seven wise Grecians, who made water the sole principle of all things. Empedocles likewise jumping with them said, that all things were made of water. And Hippon in Aristotle, lib. i. c. 2. de Anima, terms the soul water. Hippocrates goeth not so far, but yet he calleth water and fire the two principles of life. True it is, that, by water, Hippon doth understand our seed; and Hippocrates, our radical moisture. The Latins, upon the etymology of the word Aqua, water, do derive it from a et qua, quasi a qua vivimus, vel a qua omnia fiunt, by which we live, or out of which all things are made. Others will have it quasi æqua, because there is nothing more equal and smooth than water, when it is not tossed with the wind. But Julius Cæsar Scaliger, Exercit. 745, disliketh these etymologies, and will derive aqua from the obsolete Greek word are, which anciently did signify water. This element seemeth to challenge a kind of rule and dominion over the rest, for it easily transmuteth air inte

itself, extinguisheth fire, and devoureth earth. And, to go no higher than our grandfathers memory, nor further than our neighbours, the ocean-sea swallowed up above one-hundred-thousand acres of ground at one clap in Holland. Nay, it aspireth even unto the heavens; and, which is strange, it doth not only get up thither in itself alone, but carrieth with it whole shoals of fishes, heaps of stones, and divers other heavy substances, which afterwards fall down with it. Most creatures live without fire; without water, none; and, with water only, without any other sustenance, a Spanish maiden, Cel. Rhod. Lib. xiii. c. 23, is reported to have lived a long time: And Albertus writeth of a melancholy man, who, by the space of seven weeks, lived with water only, one draught of which he took but every other day. The Lord Verulam also hath produced his opinion of late, and holdeth, That trees and plants live, and are nourished merely by water; and that the earth is, as it were, but a stabilimentum unto them to keep them steady, and from being beaten down by the wind. He proveth it by rose-bushes, which, being put into water, without any earth, and kept upright in the same, not only brought forth leaves, but fair roses also; and the royal prophet saith, Psal. i. That a tree, planted by the rivers of water, bringeth forth his fruit in due season.' Much more might be said concerning water, but, because I intend to be brief, let this suffice.

CHAP. II.

Of the differences of Water.

In the creation, God said, Gen. i. 4, 5, 'Let there be a firmament in the midst of the waters, and let it divide the waters from the waters. And God made the firmament, and divided the waters, which were under the firmament, from the waters which were above the firmament.' And David saith, Psal. xxix. 10, That the Lord sitteth upon the flood;' that is, upon the orb of the waters; and where he exciteth the creatures to laud the Lord, he speaketh thus, Psal. cxlviii. 4, Praise him ye heavens of heavens, and the waters that be above the heavens.' Those waters are likened in another place, Ezek. i. 22, to a terrible chrystal; and said to be, as it were, Exod. xxiv. 10, a paved work of sapphire-stone. And some, Rab. Levi Ben Jarchij in Gen. c. i, go so far, as to define the place and seat of those waters, and say, That they are as much above the primum mobile, as the primum mobile is above the elementary waters; but whether they ever were there to take the just distance, I do not know. That there should be water above the firmament, many men think it strange, and yet the deluge, besides the express word of God, proved it to be true. For, if all the water of all the seas, lakes, ponds, rivers, and fountains in the world, had been drawn up into the heavens in like manner, as we do in distillations, yet would not their quantity have increased, but there would have returned back again, by rain, no more, than was