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prolific parts of England were Lancashire and Cheshire, where the number of births in proportion to the population was 3.599 per cent. The least prolific were the south-eastern districts, in which the per centage was 2.887.

Concerning the next great event in human existence -MATRIMONY--the Registrar-General has accumulated a mass of statistics quite commensurate with the importance of the subject. In 1842 there were wedded in England 118,825 couples. Of these, 26,198 had been previously married; namely, 15,619 widowers, and 10,579 widows. By striking an average of the gross number of marriages which occurred in the four years 1839-42, the result appears that there was one marriage in each year to every 130 individuals living. In 1842 there were fewer persons married by from three to four thousand than during any of the three previous years, which the Registrar accounts for by the commercial depression of that year. But this surmise (which he calls a 'fair inference') is quite at variance with the opinions and facts produced by M. Quetelet and Mr Rickman, who found that when distress most prevailed, marriages were most largely resorted to as a ready but improvident solace for misery. Besides, the Registrar's inference is far from a fair' one: for what is the fact? The 'great depression of trade, and stagnation of commerce,' which he adverts to, were far more severe in the three years previous than in 1842, when the dawn of prosperity began. Now, in 1839 there were 4341 more marriages, and in 1841, 3671 more than in 1842; so that the fairest inference is, that Quetelet's and Rickman's deductions in reference to the effect of national distress on matrimony are correct, and that not commercial stagnation, but that prudence which invariably accompanies a gleam of prosperity, was the cause of the decrease of marriages during 1842. That greater prudence prevailed, from whatever cause, is proved by another fact. By a reference to the ages of the persons wedded in 1842, we perceive there was a decrease of youthful, and therefore of rash and imprudent marriages. The minors married in 1841 were 21,647; in 1842, 21,390, or about 1 per cent. less than the former number; whilst the diminution in the number of persons of full age married was 7085 in 223,345, or 3 per cent.-facts which seem to be favourable to the future wellbeing of the population, who must inevitably suffer more or less by an increased number of (too often improvident) marriages. In the south and east of England, the proportion of marriages to the population was either stationary or only slightly increased; while in other parts of the country, and in the metropolis, they decreased. This supplies us with another corroboration of an important and singular natural law, which statists have discovered; namely, that the greater the number of marriages in a community (up to a certain point), the fewer the births. The south-eastern districts of England (see above) were the least prolific by about 1 per cent., while in nearly the same counties the proportion of marriages to the population was if anything increased.

We now come to the statistics of MORTALITY. In 1842 the number of deaths amounted to 349,519, or nearly 1 in every 46 of the then population: the average annual rate of mortality for the five years 1838-42 was 1 in 45 persons. The mortality in Cheshire, Lancashire, Yorkshire, the metropolis, and the northern and midland divisions, remained below the average; whereas in the southern divisions of the island the mortality was higher than in 1841, and higher than the average of those divisions for 1838-42, which, nevertheless, had in the five years fewer deaths in comparison to their population than any other tracts of country of equal extent from which returns had been obtained. In 1842, the mortality under five years of age was somewhat lowerof persons at more advanced ages a little higher-than in the preceding year. The rate of mortality in England appears to be lower than in France, Prussia, Austria, and Russia.

From a comparison of the births with the deaths which occurred in the years 1839-42, we discover that, as the gross amount of the former was 2,024,774, and of the latter 1,391,979, the excess of births was in that period 632,795; so that the mean annual increase of population was about 158,199. Supposing this rate of augmentation to be quite uniform, and remembering that the last census gave the population of England, on the 1st July 1841, at 15,927,867, its probable increase by the 1st of July of the present year from births alone will raise it to nearly 16,600,000.

Some interesting but at the same time painful facts are disclosed relative to unexpected and violent deaths. Many remarkable cases were given, showing what slight causes are sufficient to terminate life, either through ignorance, inadvertence, or the want of proper precaution. Amongst others, we find a case of tetanus produced by a stick thrust up the nose, choking by a string, suffocation by substances intruding themselves into the windpipe, choking from a bullace, convulsions from eating hard peas, explosion of fireworks in the pocket, a knitting-needle piercing the hand, eating yew-berries, taking poisons by accident, an over-dose of tartar emetic, cantharides, oil of bitter almonds, incautious use of mercury, drinking aquafortis, eating berries of the dulcamara, inhaling the fumes of whitelead, drinking spirits and spirits of wine, the bite of a pig, &c.

The tables contained in this enormous folio will doubtless supply bases for important legislative enactments. A revision of the mortality tables, upon which assurance-offices charge their usually too high premiums, will, we trust, be an early effect of this voluminous report.

A WORKING MAN'S MEMOIRS. THE thirty-fourth issue of Mr Knight's 'Weekly Volume for all Readers' consists of the autobiography of a journeyman tailor, which, without offering much to interest general readers in point of incident, furnishes an instructive lesson of patient perseverance and honest industry. The hero mentions neither his own name nor that of his native town-an unnecessary delicacy, for which no reason is given, but which deprives the reader of a main source of interest. The memoirswhich are written in plain, homely, but good Englishare not the first attempts of their author in literature, for, amongst other productions, he previously wrote The Manual for the Apprentices to Tailors, which formed one of the Guides to Trade published by Knight and Co.

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It appears that from the beginning this working-man was doomed to misfortune, and that his existence was only prolonged from the hour of his birth by an accident. I was born,' he narrates, on July 5, 1792, but in so feeble a state, as to be thought dead. After having been put aside for some little time, a neighbour in attendance upon my mother observed that I showed symptoms of being alive, on which she took me in hand, and thus saved me from a premature death. But although it was given me to live, I proved to be of a feeble constitution, which in subsequent years brought upon me many infirmities and inconveniences. I am indeed unable to apprehend fully the pleasurable sensations attendant upon robust and unbroken health, having never enjoyed that invaluable blessing; but I suppose them to be very delightful, and cannot but wish that all who possess what is called "good health" were duly sensible of its value.' Still, he grew up in an ailing state, and when about five or six years old, was taught to read by his mother, who kept a dame's school, and at ten became a candidate for admission into a Protestant dissenter's charity school. It was required that applicants for admission should present themselves to the managing committee, to prove their capabilities by reading in the New Testament. The autobiographer proceeds to draw a graphic picture of the class of people who, half a century ago, were the patrons of educational establishments. It will amuse the modern reader. I well

remember the subdued feelings with which I wended 'I arose earlier from bed, read while walking or eatmy way to the place of trial. It was on a winter's even-ing, and took care not to waste the spare minutes ing, when the dreary aspect of everything around me was in keeping with the solemnity of the business in which I was engaged. It was well for me that my good mother took me under her wing, as otherwise I should certainly have been confounded when I came before my examiners. These worthy, but to me awful, personages were assembled in a large upper room of an ancient inn. They were seated around a fire that was blazing cheerfully, and almost eclipsing the light of the candles, which of themselves would have but just sufficed to make "darkness visible." I was too much abashed to allow of my surveying the room very closely; what I saw of it, therefore, was only by occasional and hasty glances. I observed, however, that the table was well furnished with bottles and glasses, pipes and tobacco, indicating that the company present thought it wise to relieve the cares of business by a little of that which tends to make the heart glad. I cannot now remember all who were present, but have a clear recollection of several, among whom was the minister of the congregation, an aged, venerable-looking man, whose close-fitting, neatly-curled wig, and somewhat antiquated dress, accorded well with his age and character. There was also a worthy gentleman, one of the deacons, whose portly figure, powdered head, and commanding aspect, filled me with profound awe. He was, however, a kind-hearted and affable man. I could have spoken without much perturbation to either of these good men, had I met him alone and casually; but to see them all at once in a strange place, and invested with authority to question me, was too much for one so timid as I then was. A novitiate monk in the august presence of his holiness, and a full conclave of cardinals, or a presumed heretic at the tribunal of the Inquisition, could hardly feel more discomposed than I did when directed to read aloud in the hearing of my assembled judges. I obeyed this dread mandate with much trepidation, but was enabled to do it so as to escape censure. My mother gave such further information about me as was required: upon which I was unanimously elected, with some expressions of approbation.

Thus ended my much dreaded trial, to my no small relief and satisfaction: I had passed through the ordeal unscathed, although much frightened, and I could not but rejoice at my success. I was well satisfied with the treatment I had met with from my examiners; but, as a faithful chronicler, I am bound to state that I was not a little puzzled at a part of their proceedings. They were smoking; and as I had been accustomed to regard this practice as indicative of intemperate or loose habits, I was greatly surprised at seeing "grave and reverend" men like these wielding the ominous tobacco-pipe. Even the minister was thus employed: this was the most inexplicable circumstance of all. I afterwards learned that he was an inveterate smoker, which intelligence further increased my perplexity. I feared that all was not right, but I was too poor a casuist to grapple with so knotty a question; I was therefore compelled to leave it until I should be more equal to the task.'

While at school, the future working-man describes his habits as having been studious. He was very fond of reading, and made great sacrifices to obtain books, and to get leisure to read them. When only thirteen years old, he obtained a situation as an errand boy to a tailor and woollen-draper. His duties were neither light nor pleasant, for he was constantly at the beck of no fewer than twenty-one persons; namely, 'his master and mistress, five children, two maid-servants, a shopman, two apprentices, a foreman, and eight journeymen.' In this very large family, however, he found a friend in his master's son, who, amongst other favours, gave him access to a library which consisted of 'Enfield's Speaker, Goldsmith's Geography, an abridged History of Rome, a History of England, Thomson's Seasons, the Citizen of the World, the Vicar of Wakefield,' and a few others. To be able to read these books, says our hero,

which sometimes fell to my lot in the course of my working-hours. By these means I saved more time in the aggregate than I had previously thought to be possible. It was indeed made up of fragments, yet I contrived to make it answer my purposes.' With praiseworthy perseverance, he also learnt to become an expert tailor in the few spare hours which fell to his share; and the manner in which this sickly but persevering youth economised his time, fully realises the adage, that' where there is a will there is a way.' 'Instead of cleaning the tailor's shop, preparing fuel, and getting the furnace ready in the morning, I did these and other needful things at night, after the men had left off work; by this plan I secured an hour, in the best part of the day, for learning to sew. In addition to this contrivance, I also rose yet earlier than before, in order to help one of the workmen who lived close at hand. I worked with him until it was time to go to the shop, and by this means got both instruction and a little money-sometimes as much as eightpence or tenpence at the week's endwhich was no unimportant addition to the contents of my private purse. Besides these plans, I adopted that of working at home whenever an opportunity offered for so doing. Nor did I always allow myself to make a holiday of even the few red-letter days that fell to my lot; for I well remember having worked on a Good Friday, a beautifully fine day, which seemed almost audibly to invite me into the green and delightful fields. On that day I also contrived to amuse myself by committing to memory a large portion of Gray's beautiful Ode on Vicissitude. I further remember to have worked on other holidays-especially on that which, in 1809, was kept in commemoration of the king having entered upon the fiftieth year of his reign. By dint of persevering industry and attention, aided by the good offices of several of the workmen, I soon got such an insight into the business as enabled me to be very useful upon the board. Ere long my master saw that my services there were more profitable to him than they could be elsewhere; and therefore he consented to hire another, but a younger boy, to do the greater part of the work which previously had chiefly employed my time.' This welcome promotion materially diminished the labours, and increased the comforts and emoluments of the persevering youth, who, when he had arrived at man's estate, had acquired not only a proficiency in his trade, but a valuable stock of literary information; for he still went on reading whenever a moment of leisure presented itself.

The working-man, finding himself a competent tailor, determined to try his fortune in London, and travelled thither in 1810. The information conveyed in the following passage is curious:- On the day after my arrival in London, I went out in quest of employment. This I did in the way which at that time was the most in favour with my fellow-craftsmen, as being thought both more respectable and more profitable than that of waiting upon masters to ask for work. This was by causing my name to be entered in the call-book of a tailors' trade-club, which was held, as all such clubs then were, at a public-house, thence denominated a "house of call." To these houses the masters applied when they wanted workmen. They could here procure, if needful, a fresh supply of men three times per day; namely, at six o'clock in the morning, then at nine o'clock, and again at one o'clock in the afternoon. The master had the power of discharging a workman at his pleasure, after having given him three hours' work or wages. Thus the men could have as many as three masters in the course of one day.

'I was called to work during the very day on which I had my name entered on the call-book; but it was merely for the remainder of that day, as my master was himself a journeyman, who wanted a little help about an occasional job of master-work. Here I was in due form invested with all the shop-board rights and privi

leges of the craft, by paying what was technically called my "footing;" that is, in plain English, by treating my workfellows to a fair allowance of porter-a practice which I subsequently set my face against, and with much success. At night I was discharged, and again repaired to the "house of call," where I received orders to go to work at six o'clock in the following morning for a master residing in Hatton Garden. I now felt myself at ease. I had fairly launched my tiny bark upon the broad expanse of life's ocean, and I was resolved, if possible, to make a profitable voyage. With this view I applied myself to work with all practicable diligence. It required my utmost efforts to get through the allotted amount of a day's work within the appointed time-for the time, as well as the amount of work, was strictly regulated. This daily task was considerably too much for any one but a clever and very quick hand; but then, as it was fixed by the workmen themselves, there was neither room for complaining of the masters, nor any good end to be answered by grumbling to the men. I therefore took the matter quietly, and did my best. This task was, in shop-board phrase, called "the log" and a very appropriate name it truly was, for the task was indeed a heavy one. Yet, as it showed the equitable principles upon which our trade-unions were founded-in providing that the largest possible amount of labour should be given in exchange for the good wages demanded-it was generally approved of even by such as, like myself, were not fully equal to the labour it imposed. When I received my first week's wages, amounting to thirty-three shillings, I was not a little pleased. I felt that I had fairly performed the part of a man, and my self-love prompted me to look upon so meritorious a personage as myself with more respectful feelings than heretofore. My week's wages was a larger sum than I ever before could at one time call my own; I was therefore comparatively a rich man. Yet, after all, I would gladly have taken three shillings per week less in wages, if thereby I could have escaped from the pressure of that incessant, and, to me, exhausting toil which I was compelled to undergo, in order to keep up to "the log." My strength, like that of many others, was not equal to this toil, especially in so hot and otherwise unhealthy a place as is a tailor's workshop, in which I was confined for full twelve hours per day, the hours of working being from six o'clock in the morning until seven o'clock in the evening, one hour only being subtracted for dinner. As to time for breakfast, or any other refreshment, there was not allowed

even a moment.'

In this way he went on, sometimes overwhelmed with employment, at others with nothing to do, but on the whole maintaining himself creditably, till he resolved to take unto himself a wife-in the person of a young woman he had long known. His wedding-day is thus described:-- About the end of May 1819, we were married at St Paul's, Covent Garden, which was my parish church. We spent a part of our wedding-day in looking at the royal artists' exhibition of paintings at Somerset House, in which we found much that gave us very pleasant entertainment. Afterwards, as the day was beautifully clear and serene, we indulged ourselves with a short excursion, in a westerly direction, upon the broad and gently-flowing Thames.' In a few days he returned to his native town, where he commenced business on his

own account.

Years passed on, the working-man being gradually surrounded with a large family, whom he brought up in a praiseworthy manner, living respectably and respected amidst the companions of his youth; but constitutional ill health, increased by his energetic exertions to support his family with credit, demanded change. His physician assured him, he remarks, that nothing more could be done for me in the way of medicine while I continued to breathe the somewhat keen air of my native town. I therefore resolved to try whether that of London would be more favourable. had, as I have already observed, been effectually relieved

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by it when a younger man, and I hoped it might prove useful to me again, although I did not expect it would be so to the same extent as formerly.' Accordingly, the working-man again changed the scene of his labours, and indeed the nature of them; for having published a volume of lectures previously delivered by himself in his native town, and obtained, through that, other literary engagements, he divided his time between the pen and the needle. This is, it appears, his present mode of livelihood, and he concludes his memoirs in these words:Except when wholly overborne by bodily pain or infirmity, I am rarely unemployed, either in the day-time or in the sleepless hours of the night, of which I have not a few. I aim to be useful, and am occasionally encouraged to believe that I am not wholly unsuccessful. Not unfrequently a cheering ray breaks through the clouds that rest upon the future, and shows me some glimpses of a brighter world and a happier state of being. Thus I pursue my course with tolerable equanimity of feeling. There is much attainable good wherewith to compensate the inevitable evils of my lot. I aim to secure the first, and would fain extract some good from the second. Unceasing occupation of the mind upon some given subject, and with a view to the happiness of others, is one of the best means of drawing off the attention from personal sufferings, and of preventing the affections from becoming either chilled or selfish. The work of writing these memoirs has many a time raised me above the depressing influence of great bodily disorder. I should grieve that my task is done, but that I have already resolved to begin another.'

The want of uncommon incidents is well supplied in this little story of a good and well-spent life, by the indomitable self-reliance which the author exemplifies in every page. It is considered creditable for a man of robust constitution to fight through the world unscathed, and to bring up a family respectably amidst the strife; but for one who from his cradle was borne down with sickness-occasionally prostrating him for weeks, undoing all which care and industry had previously doneto arrive towards the close of existence so well as our author has done, is assuredly a sort of heroism. We take leave of the working-man, wishing him all success in his future career.

APOLOGY FOR THE NERVES.

SIR GEORGE LEFEVRE, M.D., has published a clever volume under this somewhat eccentric title, which by no means expresses the miscellaneous character of the work, though justified in some degree by the author's theory as to the concern of the nervous system in the production of various diseases. We have been particularly struck by Sir George's speculations on the Cholera Morbus, which came strongly under his attention at St Petersburg. Here, especially, he insists on the important part played by the nervous system; but the main impression left on the mind is, that the Asiatic scourge of 1832-3 arose primarily from meteorological

causes.

'I had,' says he, during my residence in St Petersburg, some opportunities of seeing this disease in its most murderous form; for the deaths in the city averaged more than a thousand daily at its onset. I published the results of some of my experience, and now, after a lapse of fourteen years, I must subscribe to the truth of Dr Holland's assertion, as expressed, page 568, in his Notes and Observations:-"That strange pestilence of our time, which, while affrighting every part of the world by its ravages, has seemed to put at nought ail speculations as to its causes, or the laws which govern its course-a disease, nevertheless, which, by the mystery of its first appearance, its suddenness, inequality, and fatality, and the failure hitherto of all who are zealous for the extension of medical science." of every method of treatment, may well excite the inquiry The idea of its originating in insect life was adopted by several German professors very soon after its first appearance. The eccentric movements of the malady, its zig-zag direction, quitting the broad line of route, flying off at a

about to violate the laws established, not a single death occurred without the city; the plague never got out of the gates.

'Why should not the same observances and precautions, for they were the same, have succeeded in both cases? The cholera has never been arrested by human means in its

tangent to appear in a widely distant point, would all argue
certain atmospheric currents wafting their poisonous con-
tents in regions beyond our powers of arrest.* Dr Prout's
observations, proving that there was a constant increase in
the weight of the atmosphere, deserve much attention in
our future investigations, for this may not have been a
casual coincidence; its constancy during the whole preva-progress-the plague often.
lency of the disease militates against this opinion. Freely
confessing that what we professed to know about this
plague, when in the heat of the battle, was but mere pre-
sumption, we still pertinaciously adhere to the belief of its
non-contagious character; and we repeat, in the words of
our former little treatise, "As far as my practice is con-
cerned, both in the quarter allotted me, and also in private
houses in different parts of the town, I have no proof what-
ever that the disease is contagious. In one case I attended
a carpenter in a large room, where there were at least thirty
other workmen, who all slept upon the floor among the
shavings; and though this was a very severe and fatal case,
no other instance occurred among his companions.
In
private practice, and amongst those in easy circumstances,
I have known the wife attend the husband, the husband
the wife, parents their children, children their parents,
and in fatal cases too, where, from long attendance and
anxiety of mind, we might conceive the influence of pre-
disposition to operate, yet in no instance have I found the
disease communicated to the attendants; ... so that, as
far as proof can be drawn from my own limited experience,
I have none to offer in favour of contagion." In the his-
tory of its prevalence in St Petersburg, it is certain that
the anti-contagionists did increase with the increase of the
disease; and its spread over Europe has considerably in-
ereased their ranks, and the number of those has much
diminished who contributed at one time to excite so much
alarm among the people.

This is, perhaps, all the knowledge we have gained upon the subject, and the evidence has been sufficient to convince most that the disease has nothing in its form or features, nor in its mode of propagation, which can entitle it to rank amongst those of a positively contagious character. Even negative evidence may become positive in certain circumstances, and of this the town of Odessa has furnished convincing proofs at two separate periods since the retreat of the cholera from Europe. It was found that the strictest military cordons did not, in any country whatever, arrest its progress. It stole its way through them, dodged the sentries-defied the point of the sword and bayonet.

It is said to have reached Sunderland by a ship which left Hamburg before it was recognised to exist in that city, where its appearance some days afterwards was sufficient, with some logicians, to prove that it was imported from thence. It must be recollected that none of the crew were attacked by it on the voyage; and here we may quote Dr Holland:" Nor will previous communication, though certainly concerned in part in the transmission of the disorder, resolve these singularities." It was not human contagion that operated in this instance. Still, this distinguished physician observes, "Man becomes an agent in the diffusion," p. 577; and again, in his hypothesis of insect life as a cause of this disease, he observes, "But also possessing the power of reproducing itself, so as to spread the disorder by fresh creation of the virus which originally produced it."-P. 574.

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To return to the Hamburg brig, which discharged her cholera cargo at Sunderland, and might then, as far as her crew was concerned, have got a clean bill of health, it is still an anomaly that she should transport a disease from a town where it did not exist when she left the port, when so many more ships could not effect this which left infected ports. This was the case with Elsinore, where upwards of five hundred vessels touched, all chartered in the port of Cronstadt, where the cholera raged furiously. We do not know that up to the present day this town was visited by a single case, although its vis a vis across the Sound, the Swedish town, where no vessels touched, suffered severely. This is one of the inexplicable frolics of this disease.

'Now, with respect to the negative evidence, which becomes positive. The plague has twice been imported into Odessa from Turkey within the last few years, and several have died of it; but by means of rigid quarantines and cordons, and the energy which Count Woronzoff displayed in arresting its progress, such as hanging a Jew who was

This would equally apply to malaria, which is transportable in this way, as proved by Dr Macculloch.

When the former has located itself in a country, it will be easy enough for those so disposed to find evidence of its human communication and propagation from one town to another. A man may take it by railroad from Liverpool to Manchester, at least be supposed to do so; but have we evidence of its first invasion in this way wherever it has appeared? Has any landsman, any sailor, made his appearance in any place with the disease upon him, and first communicated it to the inhabitants of town or village? It was not so propagated in Sunderland. It was not so in St Petersburg. Hundreds came into the latter city from Moscow, where it raged eight months previously: not a soul was affected on the whole line of route. When it did appear, the same anomaly was presented as in the Hamburg ship. It was said to be brought down by the tallow barks from the frontiers of Siberia, though not a single bargeman had been affected during the long transit. The man who was said to be first affected was not so till after his arrival in St Petersburg. In three days every quarter of that wide spreading city was grievously punished by the disease. The man died in the suburbs of the town amongst the lowest class of the inhabitants, none of whom could, directly or indirectly, have communicated with the higher orders. Many locked themselves up in their rooms as soon as the disease was announced, and died isolated from human communication. There was no more proof that the bargeman brought it than that he found it at St Petersburg. It is the argument ad absurdum to say that it should there, when it was raging for seven months at Moscow, a take a tortuous route of three thousand miles to arrive distance of five hundred only, and with which there were all the time daily communications.

'A fact well worthy of note is the circumstance, that of the eleven medical men who fell a sacrifice to it in St Petersburg, they were almost all practitioners who had the least to do with it-men practising in private, and not those who were attached to the great hospitals, of whom I do not recollect that more than one perished; and precisely the same observation was made by one of our colleagues who practised in Dantzic.

'As regards the nature of the disease, Dr Wilson has observed-"Epidemic cholera is the result of an atmospheric poison, or other vice in the blood." I had two opportunities of seeing its attack-of recognising the first symptoms of its presence.

'I observed a labourer who was walking in the street stagger, reel, put his hand to his head, and fall down. I thought he was in liquor, and overcome by the heat of a burning sun. Upon approaching him, I found him attacked by cholera. He was removed to the nearest hospital. I do not know his fate. A director of one of the cholera hospitals was presiding at a committee where I was present. In discussing some matter with one of the physicians, he suddenly put his hand to his forehead, and complained of a shooting pain through his head, which he attributed to having taken a pinch of strong snuff. It increased, however, in the evening. It was the commencement of the disease, which carried him off on the fifth day. In these two cases it would appear that the brain was first attacked. In some few instances it hardly deserved the name of spasmodic, to judge from the outward manifestation of spasm. I have known it kill in six hours, without much pain in the muscular fibre, but here the injury done to the nerves was more manifest. The derangement of all those functions under their control-as the loss of animal heat, suspension of secretions, conversion of insensible perspiration into clammy sweat, the almost involuntary pouring out of the contents of the stomach, all proved how much the great vital power was paralysed. Of the offence to the blood there can be no doubt, and of the reaction of this diseased fluid again upon the nerves; but it is questionable if the poison first creep in through the blood. Supposing the poison to be in the blood, the spasm and cramp are in the muscles, and this in a ratio with the virulence of the poison.

As regards the use of opium, it was found, as Dr Wilson has stated, to be followed by very deleterious effects. Low nervous fever was the result of its employment in repeated

doses; and if the disease were thoroughly formed, it was never arrested by the use of this drug: but I must add, that for those uneasy symptoms which threatened a commencement, a dose of laudanum, combined with an antispasmodic, stood me in much service in my practice. In many, probably in most cases, there was no other disease to combat than the effects of fear, where this antidote proved useful. The patient, attentive to every little pain and ache, was rendered more susceptible of the malady, and the immediate relief afforded him by this diffusible stimulus dispelled his fears of future consequences. John Brown, one of the brightest but most eccentric meteors that ever illumined the medical horizon, has observed, that no man, however disposed he might be to commit suicide previously, would ever think of doing so after a dose of laudanum, at least while under its intoxicating influence. He ranked it amongst the most powerful stimulants. I therefore put all who were in the habit of consulting me in possession of a "sovereign remedy," in case of need, and I had no reason to repent of so doing.'

Amongst other subjects treated by Sir George are the Blood, Sympathy, Dreams, Headaches, Fevers, Homœopathy, and Mesmerism. An observation which he makes in the last mentioned chapter-that, if some of the alleged facts be true, they are miracles-seems to us eminently unphilosophical: they would only show, we apprehend, that our ordinary views of the compass of nature are too limited. The following anecdotes are new to us, and very striking :-'As long as nervous excitement can be kept up, the resistance of cold is very great. General Piroffsky informed me, that in the expedition to Khiva, notwithstanding the intenseness of the cold, the soldiers marched along singing, with the breasts of their coats open, but only as long as they were flushed with the hopes of success. Where there is nothing to excite, and where exposure to cold takes place under the common routine of parade, its depressing effects are lamentably felt by those long exposed to it. In the time of the Grand Duke Constantine, a regiment of horse was marched from Strelna to St Petersburg, a distance of twelve miles and upwards. He marched at their head at a foot-pace all the way. He had well wadded himself, and smeared his face over with oil. It was the gratification of a whim to expose the soldiers to a great degree of cold. They arrived at the square before the palace, and were dismissed to their barracks. The following day one-third of the regiment was in the hospital, attacked by nervous fever, of which many died. There was no stimulus of necessity in this case, but the moral feeling aggravated the physical suffering.'

COMPANY,

There is a certain magic or charm in company, for it will assimilate and make you like to them by much conversation with them. If they be good company, it is a great means to make you good, or confirm you in goodness; but if they be bad, it is twenty to one but they will corrupt and infect you. Therefore be wary and shy in choosing and entertaining, or frequenting any company or companions; be not too hasty in committing yourself to them; stand off awhile till you have acquired of some (that you know by experience to be faithful) what they are; observe what company they keep; be not too easy to gain acquaintance, but stand off and keep a distance yet awhile, till you have observed and learned touching them. Men or women that are greedy of acquaintance, or hasty in it, are oftentimes snared in ill company before they are aware, and entangled so that they cannot easily get loose from it after when they would.-Sir Matthew Hale.

CURIOUS EFFECTS OF EARTHQUAKES.

The St George's Chronicle-island of Grenada, West Indies-mentions the following remarkable fact: namely, that on the occurrence of the earthquake there on the 19th of January 1844, those clocks of which the pendulums oscillated from east to west were almost all stopped, while those whose pendulums vibrated north and south were not affected. It is also mentioned that the needles of the compasses on board the Thames steamer, which was then among these islands, revolved on their centres with great rapidity during the convulsion,

THE PAINTER'S LOVE.
THE summer day had reached its calm decline
When the young painter's chosen task was done,
At a low lattice, wreathed with rose and vine,
And open to the bright descending sun,
And ancient Alps, whose everlasting snows
And forests round that lonely valley rose.
Yet lovely was the brow and bright the hair
His pencil pictured; for an Alpine maid,
In blooming beauty, sat before him there;
And well had the young artist's hand portrayed
The daughter of the south, whose youthful prime
Was bright as noontide in her native clime.
Perchance the maiden dreamt not that amid
The changeful fortune of his after days
That early-treasured image should abide,
The only landmark left for memory's gaze.
Perchance the wanderer deemed his path too dim
And cold for such bright eyes to shine on him;
For silently he went his lonely way,

And, like the currents of far-parted streams,
Their years flowed on; but many a night and day
The same green valley rose upon their dreams-
To him with her young smile and presence bright,
To her with the old home, fires, love, and light:
For she, too, wandered from its pleasant bowers,
To share a prouder home and nobler name
In a far land. And on his after hours
The golden glow of art's bright honours came;
And time rolled on, but found him still alone,
And true to the first love his heart had known.
At length, within a proud and pictured hall,
He stood amid a noble throng, and gazed
Upon one lovely form, which seemed of all
Most loved of sages, and by poets praised
In many a song; but to the painter's view
It had a spell of power they never knew;
For many an eye of light and form of grace
Had claimed his magic pencil since its skill
To canvass gave the beauty of that face.
But in his memory it was brightest still;
And he had given life's wealth to meet again
The sunny smile that shone upon him then.
There came a noble matron to his side,
With mourning robes and darkly flowing veil,
Yet much of the world's splendour and its pride,
Around long silvered hair and visage pale;
But at one glance, though changed and dim that eye,
Lit up the deserts of his memory.

It brought before his sight the vale of vines,
The rose-wreathed lattice, and the sunset sky,
Far gleaming through the old majestic pines
That clothed the Alpine steeps so gloriously.
And oh! was this the face his art portrayed,
Long, long ago beneath their peaceful shade!
The star his soul had worshipped through the past,
With all the fervour of unuttered truth-
His early loved and longed for, who at last
Gazed on that glorious shadow of her youth!
And youth had perished from her; but there stayed
With it a changeless bloom that could not fade.
The winters had not breathed upon its prime,
For life's first roses hung around it now,
Unblanched by all the waves and storms of time,
That swept such beauty from the living brow;
And withering age, and deeply cankering care,
Had left no traces of their footsteps there.
The loved one and the lover both were changed,
Far changed in fortune, and perchance in soul;
And they whose footsteps fate so far estranged,
At length were guided to the same bright goal
Of early hopes; but oh to be once more
As they had been in that sweet vale of yore!
They cast upon each other one long look;
And hers was sad; it might be with regret
For all the true love lost; but his partook
Of wo, whose wordless depth was darker yet;
For life had lost its beacon, and that brow
Could be no more his star of promise now.
And once again the artist silently
Passed from her presence; but from that sad hour,
As though he feared its fading heart and eye,
Forsook all mortal beauty for the power

Of deathless art. By far and fabled streams
He sought the sculptured forms of classic dreams,
And pictured glories of Italian lore,

But looked on living beauty never more.

Stranorlar, Jan. 1845.

FRANCES BROWNE.

Printed by William Bradbury, of No 6, York Place, and Frederick Mullest Evans, of No. 7, Church Row, both of Stoke Newington, in the county of Middlesex. printers, at their office, Lombard Street, in the precinct of Whitefriars, and city of London'; and Published (with permission of the Proprietors, W. and R. CHAMBERS,) by WILLIAM SOMERVILLE ORR, Publisher, of 3, Amen Corner, at No. 2, AMEN CORNER, both in the parish of Christ church, and in the city of London-Saturday, April 5, 1845.

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