enbane, which, when applied to
the skin-surface on piline, is of great service for relieving obstinate
rheumatic pains.

In some rural districts the cottony leaves of Henbane are smoked for
toothache, like tobacco, but this practice is not free from risk of
provoking convulsions, and even of causing insanity.

Gerard writes, with regard to the use of the seed of Henbane by
mountebanks, for obstinate toothache: "Drawers of teeth who run
about the country and pretend they cause worms to come forth from
the teeth by burning the seed in a chafing dish of coals, the party
holding his mouth over the fume thereof, do have some crafty
companions who convey small lute strings into the water,
persuading the patient that those little creepers came out of his
mouth, or other parts which it was intended to ease." Forestus says:
"These pretended worms are no more than an appearance of worms
which is always seen in the smoak of Henbane seed."

"Sic dentes serva; porrorum collige grana:
No careas thure; cum _hyoscyamo_ ure:
Sic que per embotum fumun cape dente remotum."
_Regimen sanitatis salernitanum_ (Translated 1607).

"If in your teeth you happen to be tormented,
By means some little worms therein do brede,
Which pain (if need be tane) may be prevented
By keeping cleane your teeth when as ye fead.
Burn Frankonsence (a gum not evil scented),
Put Henbane into this, and onyon seed,
And with a tunnel to the tooth that's hollow,
Convey the smoke thereof, and ease shall follow."

[255] By older writers, the Henbane was called Henbell and
Symphonica, as implying its resemblance to a ring of bells
(_Symphonia_), which is struck with a hammer. It has also been
named _Faba Jovis_ (Jupiter's bean). Only within recent times has
the suffix "bell" given place to "bane," because the seeds are fatal to
poultry and fish. In some districts horsedealers mix the seed of
Henbane with their oats, in order to fatten the animals.

An instance is narrated where the roots of Henbane were cooked by
mistake at a monastery for the supper of its inmates, and produced
most strange results. One monk would insist on ringing the large
bell at midnight, to the alarm of the neighbourhood; whilst of those
who came to prayers at the summons, several could not read at all,
and others read anything but what was contained in their breviaries.

Some authors suppose that this is the noxious h