ccasional practice of passing it, as you have explained, in
installments, must have had, indeed, a strong tendency to the general
development and conglomeration of knowledge. I presume, therefore, that
we are to attribute the marked inferiority of the old Egyptians in
all particulars of science, when compared with the moderns, and more
especially with the Yankees, altogether to the superior solidity of the
Egyptian skull."

"I confess again," replied the Count, with much suavity, "that I am
somewhat at a loss to comprehend you; pray, to what particulars of
science do you allude?"

Here our whole party, joining voices, detailed, at great length, the
assumptions of phrenology and the marvels of animal magnetism.

Having heard us to an end, the Count proceeded to relate a few
anecdotes, which rendered it evident that prototypes of Gall and
Spurzheim had flourished and faded in Egypt so long ago as to have been
nearly forgotten, and that the manoeuvres of Mesmer were really very
contemptible tricks when put in collation with the positive miracles
of the Theban savans, who created lice and a great many other similar
things.

I here asked the Count if his people were able to calculate eclipses. He
smiled rather contemptuously, and said they were.

This put me a little out, but I began to make other inquiries in regard
to his astronomical knowledge, when a member of the company, who had
never as yet opened his mouth, whispered in my ear, that for information
on this head, I had better consult Ptolemy (whoever Ptolemy is), as well
as one Plutarch de facie lunae.

I then questioned the Mummy about burning-glasses and lenses, and, in
general, about the manufacture of glass; but I had not made an end of my
queries before the silent member again touched me quietly on the elbow,
and begged me for God's sake to take a peep at Diodorus Siculus. As
for the Count, he merely asked me, in the way of reply, if we moderns
possessed any such microscopes as would enable us to cut cameos in the
style of the Egyptians. While I was thinking how I should answer
this question, little Doctor Ponnonner committed himself in a very
extraordinary way.

"Look at our architecture!" he exclaimed, greatly to the indignation of
both the travellers, who pinched him black and blue to no purpose.

"Look," he cried with enthusiasm, "at the Bowling-Green Fountain in New
York! or if this be too vast a contemplation, regard for a moment the
Capitol at Wa