doubtless had they escaped the fire then, not one of them would have survived to the present time, no Ms.of that age being now extant.  Nevertheless, I must confess to a certain amount of mental disquietude and uneasiness when I think of books worth 50,000 denarii—­or, speaking roughly, say L18,750,[1] of our modern money being made into bonfires.  What curious illustrations of early heathenism, of Devil worship, of Serpent worship, of Sun worship, and other archaic forms of religion; of early astrological and chemical lore, derived from the Egyptians, the Persians, the Greeks; what abundance of superstitious observances and what is now termed “Folklore”; what riches, too, for the philological student, did those many books contain, and how famous would the library now be that could boast of possessing but a few of them.

[1] The received opinion is that the “pieces of silver” here mentioned were Roman denarii, which were the silver pieces then commonly used in Ephesus.  If now we weigh a denarius against modern silver, it is exactly equal to ninepence, and fifty thousand times ninepence gives L1,875.  It is always a difficult matter to arrive at a just estimate of the relative value of the same coin in different ages; but reckoning that money then had at least ten times the purchasing value of money now, we arrive at what was probably about the value of the magical books burnt, viz.:  L18,750.

The ruins of Ephesus bear unimpeachable evidence that the City was very extensive and had magnificent buildings.  It was one of the free cities, governing itself.  Its trade in shrines and idols was very extensive, being spread through all known lands.  There the magical arts were remarkably prevalent, and notwithstanding the numerous converts made by the early Christians, the gr ’Efesia grammata, or little scrolls upon which magic sentences were written, formed an extensive trade up to the fourth century.  These “writings” were used for divination, as a protection against the “evil eye,” and generally as charms against all evil.They were carried about the person, so that probably thousands of them were thrown into the flames by St. Paul’s hearers when his glowing words convinced them of their superstition.

Imagine an open space near the grand Temple of Diana, with fine buildings around.  Slightly raised above the crowd, the Apostle, preaching with great power and persuasion concerning superstition, holds in thrall the assembled multitude.  On the outskirts of the crowd are numerous bonfires, upon which Jew and Gentile are throwing into the flames bundle upon bundle of scrolls, while an Asiarch with his peace-officers looks on with the conventional stolidity of policemen in all ages and all nations.  It must have been an impressive scene, and many a worse subject has been chosen for the walls of the Royal Academy.