ii s. ix. JAX. 17, 19U.1 NOTES AND QUERIES.
.57
AUTHORS OF QUOTATIONS WANTED (11 S.
ii. 449). About three years ago H. A. B.
Basked for the source of a quotation from
Goethe made by John Morley in one of
his works. It is to be found in the first
rstanza of the poem headed ' Urworte ' in
the section entitled ' Gott und Welt ' :
Wie an dem Tag, der dich der Welt verliehen,
Die Sonne stand zom Grusse der Planeten,
Bist alsobald und fort und fort gediehen
Xach dem Gesetz, woriach du angetreten,
So musst du sein, dir kannst du nicht entfliehen,
So sagten schqn Sibyllen, so Propheten ;
Und keine Zeit lind keine Macht zerstiickelt
Gepriigte Form, die lebend sich entwickelt.
L. R. M. STRACHAN. Heidelberg.
PIRATES: CAPT. WOODES ROGERS (11 S. viii. 488 ; ix. 30). A good deal is known of Capt. Woodes Rogers and the Duke and Duchess privateers. Probably the excellent paper entitled ' Bristol Privateers of the Eighteenth Century,' by Capt. R. B. Nicholetts, R.N., in The United Service Magazine for April, 1899, may supply your correspondent with the information he requires. If not, he may like to refer to Latimer's ' Annals of Bristol in the Eigh- teenth Century,' Bristol, 1893, pp. 74-7, which contains a graphic account of the movements of this intrepid commander, whose log-book was for many years in the possession of Gabriel Goldney, Esq., Mayor of Bristol 1827-8. Unfortunately, the pre- sent whereabouts of this precious " log " is still unknown.
JOHN E. PRITCHARD, F.S.A.
Clifton.
ANTHONY MUNDAY (11 S. viii. 509). 'That Anthony Muiiday was the son of Christopher Munday, draper of London, i proved by the statement in the deed of his apprenticeship to John Aldee, stationer, in 1576. Hi^ father is stated to be " de- ceased " at that date. Christopher Mun- day's will was not proved P.C.C., nor in the Consistory or Commissary Courts. It is curious that no monumental inscription has been placed in the new church of St. Stephen, Coleman Street, to the memory of Anthony Munday, who was buried there. The inscription on his monument (destroyed in the Fire of London) is known, and might well be reproduced. DRAMATIST.
GEORGE FREDERICK RAYMOND (It S. viii. P508). I have in my possession a .similar volume to that mentioned by MR. McGovERN, except that it was issued ten
- years earlier, and the author's name is given
on the title-page as " Temple Sydney, Esq."
It is divided into 16 books, contains 698 pp.
printed in double columns, with title-page
43 lines, list of subscribers, and index.
The title commences ' A New and Complete
History of England.' It was printed " for
J. Cooke, at Shakespear's Head in Pater-
noster-Row, MDCCLXXV."
JOHN T. PAGE.
PYROTHONIDE (11 S. viii. 490). Pyro- thonide, from irvp, fire, and oOovr), linen, or " liquor pyro-oleosus e linteo paratus," is a very popular remedy for toothache and skin diseases. It is sometimes prepared by distilling rags, and is then called rag oil, but the common mode of procuring it is to burn a cone of paper on a plate or other cold body ; it is then termed paper oil. It was formerly used in medicine under the name of oleum chartce. Its antiseptic principle is creosote. TOM JONES.
Oleum chartce ("rag oil") is, or was, pro- duced by the burning of rags, paper, hemp, cotton, &c. It is consequently an empyreu- matic liquid, and is of a reddish-brown colour. It was ordered for inhaling, outward appli- cation ( especially to the eyes), injections, &c. A drop placed on the tongue, it is said, destroyed all sense of taste, and conse- quently the drug was used when medicines of an objectionable taste had to be taken. Cf. Dorvault's well-known ' L'Officine,' 5th ed., by Lepinois and Michel (Paris, 1910).
L. L. K.
If RENIRA has not already done so, I should advise him to look up ' Memoire clinique sur 1'emploi en medecine du Pyro- thonide ou Huile Pyrogenee,' by Dr. H. F. Rauque, Paris, 1825. This work, I believe, is the only monograph ever written on the subject. S. D. CLIPPINGDALE, M.D.
OLD LONDON STREETS (11 S. viii. 469, 516). Botolph Lane is classic ground to me as containing the residence of an old imcle of my mother, a wealthy and hospitable merchant, with whom it was the joy of my childhood to stay. The house escaped the Fire of London, and its large rooms, with sloping floors (some of them propped up with iron pillars), were my delight ; it was in the north part of Botolph Lane, at the corner of Botolph Alley. My uncle was an orange merchant, and the smell of the various nuts and foreign fruits stored in the house was to me as the odours of Araby. The door of the house was in Botolph Alley, and on each side of it the Fellowship Porters
