manner. his wife and children well and comfortably cladcomplains of poverty. Could he but see his brother with no flooring but the ground, no food but bread such peasant of Lithuania, in his wretched wooden hovel, as English pigs would hardly eat, no bed but a wooden bench in summer or the top of the stove in winter; no clothes for the hot weather but a sackcloth shirt and trousers, his feet naked or bound round with a bit of dirty rag, over which a sandal of matted bark is tied, with the same bark twisted for strings; and in the snowy months of his rude clime, a sheep's-skin dress, uncleaned and uncleanable, though worn for years could the dissatisfied English peasant see this, we say, he would think himself, by the comparison, a very prince. Let the traveller, then, give due weight to relative positions, and learn to judge from facts rather than from the accounts of the discontented; not that this discontent is to be disregarded-for, in truth, without content there is no real comfort-but the discontent, where it exists, must be traced to its true cause." details of the cleaning business, we see the most ludicrous misexpenditure of labour. Each householder, for instance, is bound to sweep the foot pavement opposite his house every morning. Thus, in such a street as the Strand, there are perhaps five hundred persons put to the trouble of taking part in a business which a small troop of public servants, appointed for the purpose, might execute in a much more efficient Such a practice is erroneous, exactly in the same manner as if every man were to make his own clothes and serve as his own postman: it is only worthy of a city of the thirteenth century. The evils of a system of small local authorities are abundantly clear; but it may not be so easy to bring about an improvement, unless by some miracle the English prejudice against efficient central administration shall be in some degree abated. Drains must therefore continue to be mismanaged, because England, which wrung the Magna Charta from one king, and brought | PARKER'S JOURNEY ACROSS THE ROCKY another to the block, is afraid of a police applicable to the cleaning of one entire city. Other reforms there might be, useful to the health of the city. We would particularly point out the opening of wide thoroughfares through the denser districts. One such thoroughfare has been provided for by a recent act, to pass through the indescribably wretched district above alluded to, under the name of the Rookery. There is a loud call for another, to pass in a line parallel to the Strand and Holborn, and midway between these two. Cross lines near Drury Lane and St Martin's Lane are also much to be desired. In the eastern districts, there is need for many such lines, though it is not necessary here to specify where they are most required. The formation of a park for the eastern division of London has been determined on, and much good may be expected from it; but it will be too distant to be of daily service to the poor inhabitants of the present dense and dirty streets. Openings to introduce fresh air nearer their homes are more immediately called for. These are to be obtained in the form of new streets, of goodly breadth, to pass right across the narrow and close-huddling lanes, and which might not only serve as channels for the supply of a purer atmosphere, but, under direction of men of science, furnish models for an improved class of dwellings for the poor. The expense of forming such streets would probably in most instances be defrayed by the profits from the new buildings, for so much are the present thoroughfares overcrowded, that new ones in the same directions would in general be much resorted to, so that they would become valuable as places of business. We throw out these hints in the hope that some individuals, whose fortune it is to reside constantly in London, may be induced to exert themselves for the bringing about of the desired reforms. Our London readers must not start at the idea of being thus judged by a stranger. It is only in general by bring ing in a judge totally unused to, and unconnected with, the circumstances to be judged of, that a right verdict is to be obtained. Accustomed to live amidst the impurities in question, the Londoners have become used to the evil, insomuch as to be perhaps scarcely sensible of it. They would, therefore, if left to themselves, feel little wish for reform. It is a case exactly like that of the Scotch under the censure of Dr Johnson, or the Americans under the sarcasms of Mrs Trollope. The Londoners need to be awakened to a sense of the nastiness in which they live. We can assure them, in the most solemn manner, that they are excessively dirty. This is a truth on which they may place the most implicit reliance. We pledge all the credit of this work upon it. They are dirty to a degree which makes them and their city nearly unsupportable to the sensations of a provincial. Are they convinced?-then some good may be expected. If not, we must plainly tell them that the filth, which they are unconsciously living amongst, yearly chokes its thousands, and will continue to do so, as long as it remains undiminished. HINT TO TRAVELLERS. The following useful piece of advice to travellers, occurs in a new work entitled "How to Observe," by Mr Jackson, secretary of the Royal Geographical Society. "The dwellings of the peasantry in every country are an object worthy of the most attentive consideration. The cultivators of the soil are, in every country, the most numerous class; and if they are wretched, it is a poor boast that luxury abounds with the wealthy few. Nevertheless, luxury and poverty are but relative terms, and the observer must be careful to dis tinguish between real and only comparative misery. The English labourer, with his neat little cottage, smiling among roses and honeysuckles in summer, and cheered by a comfortable fire in winter, and a good substantial meal, and a good clean bed to lie down on MOUNTAINS. AMONG the interesting regions on the surface of the earth not yet fully explored, the Rocky Mountains of North America, a vast inland chain, extending for more than a thousand miles from north to south, occupy a prominent place. Various travellers who have visited this district have been noticed in the of Astoria and Mr J. K. Townshend. We have now present periodical, the most recent being the founders before us an interesting work upon the same subject, being the Journal of the Rev. Samuel Parker, who, as a missionary from the American Board of Commissioners for Foreign Missions, crossed the Rocky Mountains in 1835, and spent a part of that year and the borders of that immense range.* the two succeeding among the Indians resident on The style of the reverend missionary's original work is loose, diffuse, and even somewhat inaccurate; but he has been an attentive observer, and has thrown together a large the interior of North America and its native populaamount of pleasing and instructive matter, relative to tion. Starting from Ithaca, in the state of New York, on the 14th of March 1835, Mr Parker crossed the country to the Ohio, and, by means of the steamers on that stream and the Mississippi, reached the Missouri early in April. He immediately commenced his ascent of the latter river, still in a steamer, which, on the 20th of the same month, met with an accident which brought the voyage to a close, and compelled our traveller at once to commence his overland journey with his caravan-"men, horses, mules, and waggons." Of the little settler town of Liberty in this district, he observes "It is curious to observe the provincialisms which are common in this part of the country. If a person intends to commence a journey some time in the month, for instance, in May, he says, 'I am going in all the month of May. For a large assembly of people, they say, A smart sprinkle of people.' The word 'balance,' comes into almost every transaction: Will you not have a dessert for the balance of your dinner? to make out the balance of his night's rest, he slept until eight in the morning. If your baggage is to be carried, it will be asked, 'Shall I tote your plunder?" This use of the word plunder is said to have originated in the early predatory habits of the borderers. They also speak of a mighty pleasant day'a mighty whom I formed some acquaintance, invited me, when beautiful flower-'mighty weak.' A gentleman, with I should make an outing' for exercise, to call at his house, for his family would be mighty glad' to see me." After he has sustained a great variety of travelling toils, and crossed a number of bluffs and creeks, we again take up Mr Parker at a place called Council Bluffs, where he thus notices the aspect of the prairies:"We continued in this place three weeks, waiting the movements of the caravan, which were long in getting stay here, I frequently walked over the hills bordering prepared for their mountain-journey. During our upon the west of the valley of the Missouri, to enjoy the pure air of the rolling prairies, and to view the magnificent prospects unfolded in the vale below. From the summit of those prominences, the valley of the Missouri may be traced until lost in its winding course among the Bluffs. Six miles below is seen the Papillon, a considerable stream from the northwith the Missouri, six miles above the confluence of west, winding its way round to the east, and uniting the Platte, coming from the west. These flow through a rich alluvial plain, opening to the south and southwest, as far as the eye can reach. Upon these mea dows are seen feeding some few hundreds of horses and mules, and a herd of cattle; and some fields of corn diversify the scenery. The north is covered with woods, which are not less important than the rich vales. But few places can present a prospect more interesting; and when a civilised population shall add the fruits of their industry, few will be more desir able." Proceeding onwards, he observes-" Commenced our journey on the 18th, at our usual early hour, to travel on until near noon before breakfast. From the *"A Journey beyond the Rocky Mountains in 1835, 1836, and been lately republished, in a 1837, by the Rev. Samuel Parker," is one of the works which has corrected and extended form," among the People's Editions of Messrs Chambers. change of vegetation of various kinds, birds, &c., it is evident we are ascending into higher regions of counNew England states. As we advance, the flowering try, and an atmosphere more resembling that of the plants are becoming less numerous; and although the middle of the day is very warm, yet the nights and mornings are more cool. The ascent is so gradual, that the change is hardly perceptible. Rocks begin to appear; but we are still far from the Rocky Mountains. Limestone of a light brown colour is found in the bluffs, lying in horizontal strata, which might be easily worked, and to any extent. Very small black gnats, hardly discernible by the naked eye, for some days past have been numerous and very annoying, and their bite is most venomous. July 20th.-Thousands of buffaloes were seen today, and our men amused themselves with chasing and shooting at them; but luckily for the buffaloes, they were poor shots. I shot one through the shoulders, which must have been fatal to the animal, as it had already been wounded. Not being at that time sufficiently acquainted with such an undertaking, as our guide afterwards informed me, I put myself in considerable danger; for I dismounted from my horse to have an opportunity of taking a more steady aim than I could have done upon his back. The danger was, that, if the wounded buffalo had turned upon me, I should not have been able to have regained my seat upon the saddle, and with the speed of my horse, have fled from his pursuit. But fortunately he did not rise upon me, and I returned to the caravan unhurt, and unconscious of danger. Badgers inhabit this part of the country, and from the many holes which they dig in the ground for their dwellings, they must be very numerous, though we have seen only a few, and have killed but one. They keep near their holes, and run into them on the least approach of danger This animal is about the size of the marmot, or what is often called the wood-chuck, of a silvery grey colour, with short legs, and its whole aspect is interesting." The journey was attended with the usual toils and privations incidental to this wild country. Our party meeting with buffaloes being their main dependence suffered much during August and September, a chance for daily food. The Indians, too, were warring among themselves, and threw the travellers into perpetual danger. For example, on one occasion, when guided by a native party, "we were all (says Mr Parker) very much alarmed to see our men who were out as hunters and guards upon the hills running their horses full speed in an oblique direction towards us. Two of them were our principal chiefs. We knew that they had discovered something more than ordinary, but what we could not conjecture. Being in a country where war parties of Blackfeet Indians often range, our thoughts were turned upon danger, and soon our fears were increased by seeing on the sides of the mountains at our left clouds of dust arise, and in the obscure distance were seen men descending as swiftly as their horses could run. They were so far off that we could not determine who they were. At the same time our two chiefs on the hills halted and made signals which we did not understand. To add to our fears, some of the Indians said they saw Blackfeet Indians in the willows, not far off, between us and the chiefs; and our belief was confirmed that it was so by two deer rushing from the willows towards us, and when they saw us, instead of returning, they only declined a little to the left and passed before us. We immediately halted, and made what preparation we could for battle. As we did not know in what part of the willows to make the attack, we were waiting for our enemies to commence the fire, and were expecting every instant to have their balls poured in upon us. It was a moment of awful suspense. We sent out a few men upon an eminence to our right, who returned without having seen any enemies. The two chiefs upon the hills, who were now joined by those who rushed down the mountains, and who proved to be some of our own men, applied their whips to their horses, and came to us at and smiling, reached out his hand and said, 'cocoil, full speed; and Charle, the first chief, rode up to me, cocoil' (buffalo, buffalo). This explained the mystery; and the remainder of the day was spent in killing and dressing buffaloes, a much more pleasant occupation than fighting Blackfeet Indians." By October, the party had fairly crossed the Rocky Mountains, and, in due time, came to Fort WallaWalla, a Hudson's Bay trading station on the fine Parker embarked in a canoe on the river, for a voyage river called the Columbia. Soon afterwards, Mr to Fort Vancouver, 200 miles down the stream. Here it is proper to observe, that we are regarding Mr Parker simply as a traveller; but the reader must understand that he was all the while diligently performing his religious mission, preaching to the Indians on every possible occasion, and storing up knowledge for the benefit of future missions of a similar benevolent order. The information given on these points by Mr Parker is deeply interesting. He passed down the Columbia to the very mouth. Of Fort Vancouver we have the following description :-"This establishment was commenced in the year 1824. It being necessary that the gentlemen who are engaged in transacting the business of the company west of the mountains, and their labourers, should possess a better and less precarious supply of the necessaries of life than what game would furnish, and the expense of transporting suitable supplies from England being too great, it was thought important to connect the business of farming with that of fur, to an extent equal to their necessary demands; and as this fort is the central place of business to which shipping come, and from which they depart for different parts of the north-west coast, and to which and from which brigades of hunting parties come and go, the principal farming business was established here, and has made such progress that provisions are now produced in great abundance. There are large fertile prairies which they occupy for tillage and pasture, and the forests yield an ample supply of wood for fencing and other purposes. In the year 1835, there were at this post 450 neat cattle, 100 horses, 200 sheep, 40 goats, and 300 hogs. They had raised the same year 5000 bushels of wheat, of excellent quality; 1300 bushels of potatoes, 1000 of barley, 1000 of oats, 2000 of peas, and a great variety of garden vegetables. This estimate does not include the horses, horned cattle, grain, &c., raised at the other stations. But little, however, is done elsewhere, excepting at Colville, the uppermost post on the northern branch of the Columbia. The garden of this station contains about five acres, and is laid out with regularity and good taste. While a large part is appropriated to the common esculent vegetables, ornamental plants and flowers are not neglected. Fruit of various kinds, such as apples, peaches, grapes, and strawberries, considering the short time since they have been introduced, flourish, and prove that the climate and soil are well adapted to the purposes of horticulture. Various tropical fruits, such as figs, oranges, and lemons, have also been introduced, and thrive as well as in the latitude of Philadelphia. In connexion with their farming establishment, the company have a flour-mill worked by ox-power, which is kept in constant operation, and produces flour of an excellent quality; and a saw-mill with several saws, which is kept in operation most of the year. This mill, though large, does not with its several saws furnish more lumber than a common mill would, with one saw, in the United States. There being no pine below the Cascades, and but very little within five hundred miles of the mouth of the Columbia River, the only timber sawn in this mill is fir and oak. Besides what lumber is used in the common business about this station, one and sometimes two ship-loads are sent annually to Oahu, Sandwich Islands, and is there called pine of the north-west coast. Boards of fir are not so durable, when exposed to the weather, as those of pine, nor so easily worked. One-half of the grain of each annual growth is very hard, and the other half soft and spongy, which easily absorbs moisture and causes speedy decay. There is a bakery here, in which two or three men are in constant employment, which furnishes bread for daily use in the fort, and also a large supply of sea-biscuit for the shipping and trading stations along the north-west coast. There are also shops for blacksmiths, joiners, and carpenters, and a tinner. Here is a well-regulated medical department, and an hospital for the accommodation of the sick labourers, into which Indians who are labouring under any difficult or dangerous diseases are received, and in most cases have gratuitous attendance. Among the large buildings, there are four for the trading department: one for the Indian trade, in which are deposited their peltries; one for provisions; one for goods, opened for the current year's business, that is, to sell to their men and to send off to various fur stations; and another for storing goods in a year's advance. Not less than a ship-load of goods is brought from England annually, and always at least one in advance of their present use; so that, if any disaster should befall their ship on her passage, the business of the company would undergo no derangement. By this mode of management, there is rarely less than two ship-loads of goods on hand most of the time. The annual ship arrives in the spring, takes a trip to Oahu during the summer, freighted with lumber, and bringing back to Fort Vancouver salt and other commodities, but generally not enough for ballast; and about the end of September, or early in October, she sails for England with the peltries obtained during the preceding year. The fur business about the Rocky Mountains and the west, is becoming far less lucrative than formerly; for so extensively and constantly have every nook and corner been searched out, that beavers and other valuable fur animals are becoming very scarce. rational to conclude that it will not be many years before this business will not be worth pursuing in the prairie country south of the 50th degree of north latitude; but north of this, in the colder and more densely wooded regions, the business will not probably vary in any important degree." commences his magical incantations; uses much gesticulation, and utters inarticulate sounds; he pats or kneads the patient with his hands, beginning very softly, and gradually increasing to a considerable degree of severity-blows into the patient's ears, and practises other like ceremonies. By the process employed, the patient is often much fatigued, and thrown into a free perspiration, and his imagination is much excited. When the friction has been sufficiently employed, the imagination well wrought upon, and the medicine bag has invisibly imparted its virtues, the medicine man exhibits some trifling article, such as a small bone, a stick, or pebble, and says he has taken it from the body of the patient, in which it had been the cause of the disease; or he gives a heavy puff upward, and saying that the disease has come out of the patient and gone upward, asks him if he does not feel better. The patient says yes; for he certainly feels better in being relieved from the curative process. And often the effect is permanent; for the friction may have been beneficial, and the imagination perforins wonders. The medicine man stands responsible for the life of his patient. If the issue be fatal, his own life is not unfrequently taken by some of the relatives of the deceased." Making Fort Walla-Walla and Fort Vancouver his fixed resting stations, Mr Parker made various interesting excursions to the Spokein River and other quarters, fulfilling the objects of his journey. He found it convenient to return home by sea, visiting the Sandwich Isles in his way, and finally reaching New York in May 1837. To this pleasing traveller we are sensible that we have done but scanty justice in this bare outline. We can only make room, however, for one other extract, which will afford an example of the gratifying and encouraging reception which he for the most part met with, in attempting to give the rude Indians an idea of the divine truths which he was commissioned to expound. "One of the men whom I tried to instruct last sabbath came to me again, and wished me to instruct him once more. I did so, and at his departure he shook hands with me as a token of his satisfaction. He speedily returned, bringing others with him; and I went through the same exercise again, each individual shaking hands at the conclusion. This was several times repeated. These Indians appear not only friendly to white men, but also towards each other. I saw no quarrelling among them. Their minds are above the ordinary stamp, and the forms of their persons are fine. Many of them are nature's grenadiers.' The women also are well formed, their voices are soft and expressive, and their movements graceful. Though as yet ignorant of religious truth, and unacquainted with the refinements of civilised life, in decency and politeness, as well as in many other particulars, they differ widely from those Indians on the frontiers, who have had more intercourse with bad white men, and who have had access to whisky." THE GOOD-NATURED MAN. HENRY DURHAM was one of the best-natured boys at school, and was continually the victim of those lads who, more designing and less conscientious than himself, seldom failed to relieve him of his playthings, or otherwise to impose on his simplicity and kindliness of disposition. Now, far be it from us to say a word against so amiable a quality as good-nature. It is the balm and sweetener of human intercourse; the oil, but for which the friction of domestic life becomes insupportable. But good-nature may exist without weakness; and it is not necessary to vindicate our claim to its possession, by allowing ourselves to be imposed on by the selfishness and exigeance of other people, whom, instead of serving, by the way, we essentially injure by the concession. In matters that are in their nature immaterial, both good-nature and good manners frequently prescribe that we should sacrifice our own taste and wishes to the taste and wishes of others; but the moment that any point of duty or morals is involved, if we are invited to violate the just commands of our earthly superiors, or the moral code of our heavenly Lawgiver, the yielding that was before virtuous becomes vicious, and we might as well call the niggardliness of the miser economy, or the prodigality of the spendthrift generosity, as dignify such weakness by the name of goodIt is nature. Unfortunately, Henry Durham had not discernment enough to perceive the distinction, nor strength of mind to practise it; and although he often got into trouble by doing things he had no desire to do, in compliance with the wishes of others; and although his parents often told him that he should not mind what his playfellows said, but what they themselves said; and that it was very foolish to give away all his playthings, or exchange good ones for bad ones; yet, as they generally gave him others to supply their places, and as they established no regular system for correcting this weakness, not foreseeing the evil consequences that might ultimately result from it, no change was operated in his character; and Henry Durham retained the reputation of being "the most good-natured boy that ever lived, and a boy that every body liked." But it is possible to pay too dear for even so pleasing a distinction; more especially when the time arrived that the things to be parted with were not balls and tops, but matters of greater value; and that the errors to be committed were not staying from school or playing out of bounds, but neglecting Mr Parker, founding his remarks upon observations made on his journey and at Fort Vancouver, gives us two excellent and attractive chapters on the animals, terrestrial and aquatic, found beyond the Rocky Mountains. He also examined the Indians around the fort, fully and searchingly, and speaks thus of some of their customs:-"Among their superstitions may be classed their mode of curing diseases. They have what are called medicine men, who make no pretensions to any knowledge of diseases or skill in medicine; but they have a bag in which is deposited various relics, not to be administered to their patients, but to operate as charms. The patient is stretched upon the ground; a number of persons encircle him and sing the medicine song. The medicine man enters the circle and business of importance, or yielding to extravagance, evil associations, or dissipation. 66 "Ah, Durham! how are you?" cried George Lacy, meeting our hero in St James's Street. Why, I thought you were on the continent." "I only arrived last night," replied Henry, who had now reached the age of two-and-twenty, and his father being dead, was in possession of a gentlemanly independence. "Well, I'm very glad you're come," said George. "You're just in time for the season, and we have a set of capital fellows here, that I'll introduce you to." "But I'm not going to stay in town," answered Henry. "I landed at Dover yesterday, and I'm only passing through on my way home." "Pooh !" said George; "that's so like you, Durham. Why, you don't mean to say you are going to vegetate at that stupid place, when every body that has got five pounds in his pocket is hurrying up here?" "Yes I do," replied Henry. "I must go home; want to see my mother. You know I've been away these two years." "And you're mammy sick, eh? Well, at all events, you must dine with me to-morrow at the Clarendon; there are two or three fellows I must introduce you to before you go; besides, Gordon's to be there-you remember Gordon? And Monckton, too—I'm sure you'll be delighted to see Monckton." "I can't stay, indeed," replied Henry. "Just before I met you, I had dropt a letter into the post to tell my mother she might expect me; and I can't disappoint her." "Pooh! what difference can one day make?" answered Lacy. "There's plenty of time-you can write another letter. Besides, Monckton will be so hurt, I'm sure he will, if I tell him you knew he was to be there and wouldn't stay." "Monckton-Monckton; I don't think I recollect him," said Durham. "Not recollect Monckton!" cried Lacy. "Why, you were at Winchester together. He's always talking of you, and saying what a good-natured fellow you were. "Oh-ah! I think I remember something of him," replied Durham. "Well, come in here to the Cocoa-Tree, and you shall see him. He was at the window just now when I passed." "I can't, thank you," answered Durham. "The truth is, I'm on my way to pay a visit to my mother's brother, Sir Gilbert Wray. I sent to him this morning to know if he could receive me at three o'clock, as I was obliged to leave town to-morrow; and he answered he would; so I've no time to lose." "But it won't detain you a minute to speak to Monckton, and he'll be so glad to see you," argued Lacy. "Come in just for a minute ;" and in they went--but it was perfectly evident, when this desired meeting was effected, that neither of the gentlemen recognised the other. It is true, they had been at Winchester together; and Monckton had some vague recollection of having done Durham out of a fine new cricket-bat, and Durham had an equally vague recollection of having been victimised in some way or other by Monckton; but the pleasure resulting from the rencontre on either side might certainly have been represented by the smallest possible quantity. However, they shook hands, addressed each other familiarly, and complaisantly acted the satisfaction which appeared to be expected of them. "Would you believe it, Monckton?" cried Lacy, "this fellow wants to give us the slip, and be off down to Lincolnshire to-morrow morning, instead of dining with us at the Clarendon !" "Pooh! nonsense!" answered Monckton; "what should he do in Lincolnshire at this time of year, when every body's in London ?" "I want to see my mother, for one thing," replied Durham; " and besides, I've business to look after." "Well, they'll both keep for another day, at all events," said Lacy; so you must join our party tomorrow, and you can be off on Thursday. And now, Monckton, for our match at billiards. We never can find a better time." "With all my heart," said Monckton. "But where's the marker?" "Oh, never mind him," cried Lacy. "The fellow was taken ill an hour or two ago, and went away; but Durham shall be umpire." "I'm very sorry," replied Henry; "but I must be off instantly." "What! to that old uncle of yours, Sir Gilbert Wray? What difference can it make to him whether you go now or an hour hence? To my knowledge, he can't move out of his arm-chair, so you'll be sure to find him, go when you will. Come now, Monckton, which will you have, the red balls or the white? You see, Durham, Monckton and I are the two most equal players at the table, and we've agreed to play a match of ten games for five hundred. You shall have a bet on it too; which will you take-Monckton or me, for a hundred?" Henry Durham had not the slightest inclination to take either; nor did he want to be troubled with the match at all. On the contrary, he really wished to go to his uncle's; both because he had appointed to do so, and because his uncle had a fair ward whom he had lately met for the first time in Paris, and whose charms had made a considerable impression upon his heart. Nevertheless, he stayed to mark the game, backed Lacy for a hundred pounds, and lost it; and when he reached his uncle's, was told that Sir Gilbert was taking his nap after dinner, and could not be disturbed. This, however, he thought less important, as, having been persuaded to delay his departure, and join the party at the Clarendon, he would have an opportunity of repeating his visit on the following day. Accordingly, at an hour he thought likely to accord with the old gentleman's habits, he presented himself at the door, and was admitted. "So young gentleman," said Sir Gilbert," after putting off my dinner an hour and a half for your accommodation, instead of fulfilling your engagement, you amused yourself with acting marker at a billiardtable!" "It was quite an accident, I assure you, Sir Gilbert," replied Durham. "I was most anxious to have waited on you at the time appointed; but the marker had been taken ill, and" "Well, sir!" exclaimed Sir Gilbert, opening his eyes very wide, as Henry, feeling the weakness of his excuse, hesitated how to proceed" well, sir; and was it your business to fill his place?" No, sir, certainly," answered Durham; "but I had a couple of friends who had agreed to play a match, and they were so anxious that I should stay and mark for them, that I was over-persuaded. But may I ask how you became aware of the cause of my non-appearance?" "Why, sir, I had invited my ward, Miss L'Estrange, and her brother, Colonel L'Estrange, to look in here about three o'clock, that they might meet you. I heard you had seen Fanny in Paris, and I thought you might like to renew the acquaintance, and be introduced to her brother. As it happened, when you went in, he was reading the paper at the Cocoa-Tree, and heard what passed between you and your friends; and, when he came down here, he told me where you were and how employed." "I am particularly sorry, sir," replied Henry, with great truth; "I should have been most happy to have seen Miss L'Estrange and her brother. Perhaps I may yet be so fortunate ?" "Not to-day, at all events," answered Sir Gilbert; "for they left London this morning for some weeks." Durham ardently wished that Lacy, and Monckton, and the billiard-table, had all been at the bottom of the sea, ere they had made him miss such a favourable opportunity of advancing his suit. But it was too late to repent; and he comforted himself by resolving to visit London again in a few weeks, when it was likely the lady and her brother might be returned. As the orgies at the Clarendon were maintained to a late, or rather early hour, Henry, whose habits were, from choice, both orderly and temperate, found himself so much deranged by the excess, that when his servant called him in the morning to start for the country, he desired not to be disturbed; and, returning his head to the pillow, determined on deferring his departure for another day. When he turned out in the evening his friends got hold of him again, and persuaded him to dine with them at a celebrated French restaurateur's; and thus day after day passed, to the amount of ten, each post carrying a letter to his mother assuring her he should start on the ensuing morning, When at length he did arrive, he found that he had been the occasion of serious disappointment and mortification at home. In order to celebrate his return from his travels, Mrs Durham had invited all the neighbouring gentry to a ball, which she had given on a grand scale and at considerable expense. The absence of the principal figure naturally subtracted much from the effect of the entertainment; whilst the perplexity of the poor mother, who was half-frightened halfangry, and altogether unable to account to her guests for her son's absence, cast a cloud over the gaiety of the scene. To add to his vexation, he moreover learnt in the course of conversation, that Miss L'Estrange and her brother, who had been visiting some connexions of Sir Gilbert in Yorkshire, had accompanied them to the ball, and had remained two nights under his roof. This was too provoking. Why, in the world, mother, did you not write and say you were going to give a ball?" 66 "In the first place, Henry," replied Mrs Durham, "I intended the ball for a surprise; and, in the next place, as I expected you daily and hourly, it appeared to me useless to write to a man whom I imagined to be on the road;" and Henry felt that he had nobody to blame but himself, and that by his foolish compliance he had sacrificed what would have given him infinite pleasure for what had given him none at all. However, he resolved it should be a lesson to him; and that henceforth he would follow his own inclinations and not other people's-a determination, it might be supposed, not very difficult to adhere to. But there are persons in the world, to whom following their own inclinations is an herculean labour, demanding an energy of moral purpose far beyond their power to exert without long training and practice: on a sudden emergence, the old weakness is sure to conquer. Durham," said Sir Philip Miles, "you must go with me to Doncaster races, and pay me a visit at Heron Court.” "Impossible!" replied Henry. "I must positively be in London by the middle of next week. My mother wrote yesterday to her brother Sir Gilbert, to say I would. He is ill, and wishes to see me on business." "Well, it won't make above a day or two difference," urged Sir Philip. "You can write to your uncle, and say you'll be there on Saturday night." Henry would "And may I ask who it is to ?" said Sir Gilbert. "If I thought you would approve, Sir Gilbert"replied Henry, hesitating. "Never mind whether I approve; speak out," said Sir Gilbert. "You shall learn my opinion on the subject afterwards." "Well sir,” answered Henry, summoning courage, "I have presumed to fix my affections on your ward, Miss L'Estrange." The old gentleman's eyes lighted; he was visibly pleased. "And have you any notion whether she returns your regard ?" inquired he. "I did hope, sir, when we were in Paris, that I was so fortunate as not to be disagreeable to Miss L'Estrange; but I have been so unlucky in not meeting her since, that" of his ultimate recovery. Colonel and Miss L'Estrange had been constant in their attentions. Henry felt grieved, ashamed, and vexed. He was very sorry for the uneasiness he had occasioned his uncle; much annoyed at having lost so much of Miss L'Estrange's society, and apprehensive of the impression his vacillating conduct must make upon her, and upon her brother; and, added to this, he was oppressed with the recollection of his awkward position with Miss Miles. "I have not long to live," said Sir Gilbert, after listening to such excuses as Henry could frame for his absence, "and therefore I cannot afford to waste time in discussing the past; I want to talk to you about the future; but your readiness to yield to "Durham," said Sir Philip, "I wish you would drive the persuasions of every knave or fool that comes in my cousin Louisa to the course in your curricle." your way, will some day bring you into trouble, if you "But I mean to go on horseback," replied Henry; don't break yourself of it, depend on it. However, to "I would not say thank ye for a race, unless I can turn to what I desire to speak of-and, by the bye, follow it. Besides, I thought I heard you promise to now, I beg you will not, with your usual weak comdrive Miss Miles yourself." "Why, so I did," an- plaisance, sacrifice your own inclinations, either to swered the baronet; "but I want to get off a little what you may perceive are my wishes, or the wishes earlier to see how things are going on; and Louisa will of other people-I want to know if you have any enbe sure not to be ready-she never is-and, if you will gagement?" "No, sir," answered Henry; and as he only drive her to the course, you can have your horse had never proposed for Miss Miles, and as he hoped led and mount there." Henry was disappointed; be- that now he had made his escape from Heron Court, sides, he had no penchant for Miss Miles at all; and, he might avoid even doing so, he thought he was jusas he had been warned by a friend that both she and tified in making the answer. "Have you any attachher mamma were manoeuvrers, and that he had betterment, then?" inquired his uncle. "Yes, sir," replied be on his guard, he would have been wise to decline. Henry, "I have." However, he acceded, to accommodate Sir Philip, and drove the young lady to the course; but when he wished to leave her and mount his horse, she declared that she could not be left alone, and that she saw no friends at hand who had room in their carriage for her, and that she should faint if he went away. So, of course, he could do no other than remain, though he lost the best part of the race; but he inwardly resolved that neither Sir Philip nor any body else should induce him to sacrifice his next day's pleasure to their convenience. The next day the cup was to be run for, and Sir Philip, being very anxious, set off for Doncaster before breakfast; and, to avoid any possibility of being caught by Miss Miles again, Henry determined to follow him the moment the repast was over. But, somehow or other, by the time they rose from the table, he had consented to lend his horse as far as the course to Miss Miles's brother; who, however, promised that, when there, he would resign it to him and supply his place in the curricle at his sister's side. But young Mr Miles found himself much more pleasantly situated on horseback than beside his sister; and the cup had been run for and won, and the day's sport was nearly over, before he contrived to make out the curricle; and "Bless me, Durham! I have been riding round and round the course looking for you all day," was the amount of the apology he offered. He certainly had been riding round and round the course, but it was after the racers. However, every body at Heron Court admired Henry's good-nature, and remarked how extremely kind he was to poor Miss Miles, whom nobody liked; and Miss Miles and her mamma said he was the most amiable young man in the world. So, as nobody chose to be troubled with them, they were cast upon his shoulders; and although he did not like it better than any body else, as he never had resolution to refuse doing any thing he was asked, or that seemed to be expected of him, the young lady was so constantly in his curricle, or by his side at dinner, or his partner at the balls, that it became quite remarkable; every body said that Miss Miles had made a hit at last, and the mamma and the brother, by their hints and inuendoes, took good care to confirm the report. Not only this, but they took several opportunities of giving Henry to understand that they considered his attentions serious; and whenever he proposed going away, the whole family, baronet included, raised such an outcry, and were so urgent that he should remain over some particular period, to attend a ball, a play, or a pic-nic, that, at the end of a month, he found himself still' at Heron Court, and under a tacit engagement to Miss Louisa Miles.' He certainly had not proposed for her; but he was quite aware that the family were hourly expecting the offer, and that the world looked upon it as a thing settled; and he could not deny that, as far as external appear ances went, they were justified in the expectation. At this crisis of affairs, however, a letter arrived one morning from London, containing a summons to the death-bed of Sir Gilbert Wray, urging him to start immediately; and as the post arrived at an hour when nobody was in the way to interfere with his departure, he forthwith mounted his horse, and had reached the next post town before this energetic movement was suspected by the manoeuvrers, or any of the party assembled at Heron Court; whilst, for his own part, he felt himself as much relieved, when he found himself on the road, as if he had been all the time shut up in an enchanted castle, and were just released from his thraldom by the intervention of some beneficent fairy. On his arrival in town, he proceeded immediately to George Street, Westminster, where Sir Gilbert resided, and was informed that the old gentlemen had been extremely anxious for his appearance; and he learnt, moreover, that the irritation and impatience his repeated delays had occasioned, were supposed to have produced a very pernicious influence on his uncle's health, and had been the main cause of determining the gout to the stomach. The invalid was at present slightly better; but the physicians entertained no hope "So stupid and careless, you mean," interrupted Sir Gilbert; "and if you had lost her, you would have had no more than your deserts. However," added he, laughing, "women are poor forgiving fools. Colonel and Miss L'Estrange will dine here to-day--I cannot sit at the table-but you can take my place; and, do you hear, don't lose your opportunity this time-I want the business settled before I die.' Then arose the vision of Heron Court and Clara Miles! How happy else would Henry Durham have been at that moment! and how he lamented the weakness that had taken him there, in the first instance, when he ought to have obeyed his uncle's summons, and the subsequent and daily weaknesses that had not only kept him there, but had allowed the manœuvrers to entangle him in their toils! "But now," said he to himself, "I'm determined I'll follow my own inclinations; I'll propose for Fanny L'Es trange, and marry her at once, as my uncle wishes, that he may witness our union before he dies. When once I am married, I shall be clear of Miss Miles, at all events." It is the common course of people of Henry's character, occasionally to make violent resolutions of having their own way in this or that particular instance. They see the folly of their weak compliances, and whilst they are smarting under their consequences, they make a temporary rush into the other extreme, and not uncommonly choose an unfortunate occasion for their purpose. So it was with Henry. Resolved that the Mileses should not get hold of him and persuade him out of his will this time, he dashed from his mind all obtrusive thoughts of Louisa and her claims, and eagerly hurried on the arrangements for his union with Miss L'Estrange; the anxiety of Sir Gilbert seconded his wishes, and the old gentleman's state of health reconciled the young lady and her brother to the precipitation. The morning fixed for the ceremony had arrived, and Henry Durham was just stepping into a carriage that was to convey him to Sir Gilbert's, where the bridal party was assembled, when a hand was laid upon his shoulder: he looked round, and his eye alighted on the features of Lionel Miles! His heart quailed at the sight, and his countenance betrayed his. fears for fears they were; not that Henry Durham was a coward, but he was conscience-stricken. True, he had been entangled-beguiled against his will and his judgment; but what excuse was that to the world, or even to himself? He felt it would be pitiful to offer it; for why had he been so weak? and it would be useless to offer it; for who, except those who knew the vice of his character-for weakness carried to a certain extent becomes vice-would believe it? He was detected, too, in the very act of seeking to evade an engagement that he had tacitly, though not verbally, assumed. He was breaking the promise to the hope, if not to the ear, and he despised himself, as he saw mankind would despise him. This feeling rendered him desperate; and when Lionel Miles said, "You turn pale, sir my presence is unexpected, I see," Henry Durham withdrew his foot from the step of the carriage, and simply saying, "I am ready for you," led him into the house, and up stairs to the drawing-room. "I wish to know, sir" began Mr Miles. "Ask no questions, sir," replied Henry, "for I shall answer none. The only explanation I shall give is here," and so saying, he unlocked his pistol-case and drew forth the arms. "Charge for yourself, sir," he added, laying the materials before Mr Miles, "and for me too, if that be any satisfaction to you." "But, sir," said Lionel Miles, who was not quite prepared for such sudden and extreme measures, "allow me to say a few words ". "They will be useless, sir," answered Durham. "I repeat, I have no explanation to give-I will give none -I offer you satisfaction; if you do not choose to take it, quit my house, and let me go and fulfil my engagement." This was too much. Lionel Miles charged one pistol, Durham the other; they placed two chairs at certain distances, and took up their position behind them; agreed that Lionel should count three, and that both should fire at the same moment. Neither took aim, but both were hit-Lionel, slightly in the shoulder; Henry, mortally in the chest: he drew but two or three painful respirations, and expired. The women of the house rushed into the room at the sound of the report; Lionel Miles stood for a few seconds staring at the body, amazed and horror-stricken. "Father of Heaven!" cried the women; "there he lies dead in his bridal-clothes." 66 was he to have "What!" said Lionel, hoarsely, been married to-day?" "Ay," answered the women, "this very morning. At this moment the bride is looking for the bridegroom!" Lionel rushed from the house, and fled to the continent. He had come to town on seeing the intended marriage hinted at in the paper, but had no idea at how critical a moment he had arrived till after the catastrophe. Fanny L'Estrange suffered much and long; and although she did not die, her health and cheerfulness were irreparably injured. The fatal intelligence executed poor Sir Gilbert's death-warrant, which had long been issued; and Mrs Durham, Henry's mother, ended her days in loneliness and sorrow: and all this misery to himself and others arose simply from Henry Durham's not having the resolution to say that little word-no. WHAT TO BE DONE IN EMERGENCIES. IT would be of considerable importance to young persons, if they were instructed, by teachers or parents, in the art of preserving their own lives, or the lives of others, in cases of great emergency; in short, to know what to do when any serious accident occurred. For want of such training, most persons, and young ladies who have little practical knowledge of the world, in particular, are quite at a loss, and become stupified or panic-struck when placed in a situation of imminent peril. We have been led to advert to this subject by the following paragraph, which lately appeared in an English provincial newspaper : "A very dreadful accident occurred on Saturday last, at Bell Croft, a short distance from Newport, on the Ryde road, a seat belonging to John Cooke, Esq. It appears that on the morning in question a quantity of tobacco was set on fire in the conservatory, in order to destroy the blight on the exotics, when a lovely young lady, about one-and-twenty years of age, the eldest daughter of Mr Cooke, unguardedly came too near the flame of a candle standing near, which speedily caught her dress, and the unfortunate sufferer in her fright having run through several rooms, it occasioned her to be completely enveloped in the destroying element, which, before it could be subdued, inflicted such horrible injuries on her person, as to cause her death within a few hours." It will be observed, that this melancholy catastrophe, the death of an amiable young woman, might in all likelihood have been averted, had the unfortunate sufferer known what to do in the case of clothes catching fire, and possessed the presence of mind to act upon that knowledge with promptitude. We beg to offer the following advices upon this and a few other points : Clothes Catching Fire.-The moment you see that your clothes are on fire, remain still and collected; do not, on any account, run away in a fright. If there be a loose rug, carpet, or table-cover, at hand, snatch it up and roll it tightly about you. If you can get this done smartly, the flames will immediately be extinguished. Should no cloth of any kind be at hand, and no one be present to give assistance, lay yourself down on the floor, and try to extinguish the flames by rolling yourself about, always taking care to keep the garments as close together as possible. If a man be present, let him take off his coat and wrap it round you; and if a woman, her shawl will answer the same purpose. By one or other means, such as are here pointed out, the fire will be stifled, and perhaps the only personal injury will be some slight scorching of the hands, which must not be regarded in averting so great an evil. House on Fire. In making way through a burning house, we ought not, if it be full of smoke, to walk upright, for then we shall run the risk of suffocation. It is best to creep along on hands and knees, the freest air being to be had close to the floor. On being awakened by an alarm of fire during the night, it is particularly important to preserve presence of mind, and not to act till a moment has been taken for reflec tion. Preservation may depend on the choice we make of going up or down stairs, or on some selection of movement equally unimportant in ordinary circumstances. Chimney on Fire.-To extinguish speedily the fire in a chimney, it is only necessary to hang over the fire-place a piece of wet carpet or blanket: some handfuls of salt thrown into the fire at the same time will greatly aid the extinction. Unless to prevent the chance of timbers in the walls catching fire, it would be generally preferable to allow the burning in the chimney to exhaust itself. any material good having been effected. At length an inner door on the right of the stairs was opened, which leads to the aisle of the church, through which a great many were hurled pell-mell, one over the other. During the alarm in the gallery, a number of ladies actually slid down the pillars supporting the roof to the bottom, and several attempted to jump down from the gallery. Since the melancholy affair, the gallery has been carefully examined, and it has not sustained the slightest injury, nor can it be ascertained whence the noise proceeded which caused the catastrophe." Here we have an instance of panic arising, as apBurns and Scalds.-The pain of a burn or scald on pears, from a purely imaginary cause, and therefore such a part as the finger may be greatly assuaged by fess excusable than if produced by some actual cirinstantly dipping the part in cold water, or applying cumstance of a dangerous nature. The whole misto it any cold moist substance-mud from the street chief, it will be observed, in this as in all similar cases, is as good as any thing. But the sudden dipping of is yielding too easily to alarm. We anxiously recomthe whole hand or foot into cold water may prove mend every one to cultivate the power of suppressing dangerous to a delicate person, by causing a too quick such idle emotions. When a cry of fire, or of the flow of blood to the head, and therefore should be re-falling of galleries, is raised in church, sit still, and sorted to with extreme caution. The safest and best remain tranquil till the assemblage is allowed to disapplication to either a severe burn or scald is soft perse in the usual way. On no account yield to alarm. cotton. In many cases it is applied perfectly dry to Granting that there is a real cause of danger, you are the part, and in others it is wetted on the side next infinitely more safe sitting still than trying to rush the sore with a mixture of lime-water and linseed wildly to the door. oil. A rag wetted with some substance may be used where cotton cannot be had; but cotton is best, and no house should be without a quantity of it. Escape of Gas.-If the smell of gas is suddenly and offensively felt, at once turn off the supply at the meter or stopcock at the door, and open the windows to allow the entrance of fresh air. Be careful not to take a lighted candle into the apartment where the escape has taken place. Coach Accidents. Should the horses run off, in defiance of all restraint, while you are in a coach, sit perfectly still, and, in anticipation of the possible overturn, keep your legs and arms from straggling. Sit easily and compactly, so that, when upset, you will gently roll over in the direction you are thrown. We have seen ladies in these circumstances scream wildly, and throw their arms out of the windows, thus exposing themselves to the chance of broken limbs. If run away with in a gig, either sit still collectedly, or drop out at the back. Never jump from a rapidly moving vehicle, unless (supposing it impossible to slip down behind) you see a precipice in front, in which case any risk of personal damage is preferable to remaining still. Boat Accidents. If upset in a boat, and thrown into the water without being able to swim, draw in the breath, keep your mouth as well shut as possible, and do not throw about with your arms. Endeavouring to hold your head up, yield yourself to the buoyant powers of the water, and stretch out your hands-but only below, not above, the surface. Remember that the less you expose above the surface, the better are you buoyed up. Many persons are drowned merely from struggling and throwing up their hands. Poison. When you have reason to know that you have accidentally swallowed a poisonous substance, and proper medical advice is not at hand, take an emetic. This may be done almost instantaneously by swallowing a cupful of warm water mixed with a teaspoonful of mustard. If you have not dry mustard in the house, you are almost sure to have a mustard-pot, and a quantity from that put into the water will very quickly empty the stomach. As mustard may thus prove of so much use, it should never be wanting in any house; but even should there be no mustard at hand, warm water by itself forms a tolerably efficacious emetic. Alarms in Churches and Theatres.-Alarms, whether with reference to fire or the falling of galleries, often take place in these and similar places of resort. In general, they are raised without due cause, often from a circumstance of the most trifling nature, and perhaps occasionally from a deliberate spirit of mischief. However originating, they almost invariably generate a panic, and occasion much damage, which a little reflection would have enabled those present to avoid. The newspapers teem with accounts of incidents of this nature; the latest we have seen narrates a panic in a church at Ashton, near Wigan :-" A crack was heard in the western gallery, as if from the back of one of the seats, occasioned by pressure; this immediately caused an impression on the minds of several persons that the gallery was giving way under them. At the impulse of the moment a general alarm was created, which was considerably heightened by one of the singers telling those standing near him that the gallery was giving way, and requesting them to go out quietly; which advice, unfortunately, was not followed. A simultaneous rush instantly took place towards the gallery stairs, and in the hurry and confusion to get out, numbers of females fell at the bottom of the stairs, and scores following hard on in their fright also fell over them, until the staircase was completely filled up, the females being literally piled one on the other nearly to the ceiling. At this moment a most awful spectacle presented itself, and heart-rending it was to hear so many human beings crying out for help. A police-sergeant and constable endeavoured to aid those above by placing a ladder for their accommodation; the confusion and distracted state of the females, however, rendered it difficult to accomplish this important object; and the delay was of serious consequence to those who were suffocating and lying in all manner of postures at the lower end of the staircase. Nearly twenty minutes had now elapsed without SIR JAMES CLARK ON CLIMATE.* THE climate of our country, though possessing many advantages, is also well known to tend to the development of various diseases, of which those affecting the breathing organs are the most remarkable. It becomes necessary for those affected by such diseases to seek a remedy for them in lands where the air is of a more regular or more temperate quality; and we need not reinark how extensively this necessity is acted upon. The object of the work above mentioned is to guide invalids in the choice of places of resort suitable to their various cases. It is the production of a man of the highest station and talent, and one who has had large means of observing in this particular department of his profession. Sir James opens with some remarks on the peculiar diseases most extensively affected by climate. These are, in general terms, disorders of the stomach and lungs. The various forms of dyspepsia, and all pulmonary complaints, whether affecting the lungs themselves, or the larynx, trachea, and tubes leading to the lungs, are influenced in a remarkable manner by climate. In some cases, the noxious causes are simply and strictly local, and may be remedied without any troublesome change of scene. Sir James Clark recommends attention, in the first instance, to the ventilation of houses, and to the removal of any local nuisances rendering the air damp or insalubrious. If such remedies cannot be conveniently ap plied, a change to some other situation, at no great distance, may have the beneficial consequences desired, Sir James observes, that "the mild region of England admits of being divided into four districts, or groups of climate-that of the south coast, comprehending the tract of coast between Hastings and Portland Island; the south-west coast, from the latter point to Cornwall; the district of the Land's End; the western group, comprehending the places along the borders of the Bristol Channel and estuary of the Severn. We shall find that each of these regions has some peculiar features in its climate, which characterise it and distinguish it from the others, both as regards its physical and medical qualities." After observing that London possesses a very mild atmosphere, often beneficial to the invalid, though its advantages are in some measure counterbalanced by want of purity in the air, the author of the work before us makes the following summary remarks on the climates of various parts of England :-"There is no one of the English climates, as far at least as our present knowledge of them extends, so much superior to the others, as to give it a claim to a decided preference in consumptive diseases. The selection must, therefore, depend upon the nature of the individual's constitution and the character of the disease. In cases in which a soft and rather humid air is known to agree, the coast deserves the preference; and at the more sheltered parts of the coast of Devon, as Torquay, and at Penzance, the generality of patients labouring under confirmed pulmonary disease, will find an air more soothing to the respiratory organs than at any other place frequented by invalids in our island. For invalids labouring under a relaxed state of the bronchial membrane, or of the system generally, or where a strong disposition to hæmoptysist has shown itself, the drier and more bracing air of Clifton will agree better; and Undercliff will prove a still more favourable residence. The climate of Hastings may be considered as somewhat intermediate between that of Devonshire and Clifton; less warm, but also less relaxing than the former, it is about the same temperature, but less dry and bracing than the latter, and it is inferior to it as a spring climate. The air of Hastings is also more essentially a sea-air than that of any of these places; a circumstance which will have its due weight with the physician, when deciding upon a climate for his patient. * * * In the disordered states of the digestive organs, *The Sanative Influence of Climate, with an Account of the best Places of Resort for Invalids, &c., by Sir James Clark, Bart., MD., F.R.S., Physician in Ordinary to the Queen, &c. Third Edition. London: John Murray, Albemarle Street. 1841. which not unfrequently lead to consumption, and in broken-down constitutions, the genial influence of a mild climate is one of the most powerful means of relief which we possess. In those cases in which, from a long deranged state of stomach, a sympathetic irritation has been excited in the bronchial membrane, and the person is liable to attacks of catarrh every spring, or is subject to habitual cough, greatly aggravated during that season, such a change is peculiarly beneficial. No class of invalids is, indeed, more susceptible of cold, or suffer more from it, than dyspeptics, more especially nervous dyspeptics. But a low degree of temperature is not the only condition of the atmosphere which disagrees with persons suffering from stomach complaints. There are other circumstances in the nature of a climate, cognisable rather by their effects than by the appreciable physical qualities of the air, which exert a powerful influence on their sensitive constitutions. Different forms of this disease also derive benefit from climates of a different character. With persons labouring under gastritic dyspepsia, the climate of Devonshire will agree, while it will decidedly disagree with those suffering from the atonic form of the disease. In proportion, therefore, as the one or other of these conditions predominates, will this climate prove beneficial or the reverse; but I should scarcely consider a long residence in it advisable in any form of dyspepsia. Persons who have lived in a drier and more bracing air, become, after a short residence on this coast, very sensible of the enervating and debilitating influence of the climate on their digestive organs. They feel a sense of distention or oppression in the region of the stomach, with a torpor of the whole system, after meals, indicative of laborious digestion. In the nervous forms of dyspepsia, Clifton will prove a much more favourable residence than any part of Devonshire. Brighton, during the autumn and greater part of the winter, agrees admirably with this class of dyspeptics in general." These remarks have reference chiefly to the capabilities of different parts of England as places of winter residence. With regard to the spots best fitted for summer residence, Sir James Clark observes "After this survey of the best winter climates in England, it may be expected that we should take some notice of our more salubrious summer residences. On this subject, however, it is not necessary to go into detail, as there is no lack of healthy situations to which our invalids may repair with advantage during this season. In the selection of a summer, as of a winter residence, the same circumstances require attention, both as regards the character of the climate and the nature of the invalid's disease. Even during this season, the milder and more sheltered situations must be chosen for delicate and very sensitive invalids; while for the relaxed and enervated, and those possessing less sensibility, the bracing air of the higher and drier districts will prove more suitable. To a large class of invalids, our sea-side watering places offer a variety of excellent situations; and for those cases in which sea-bathing is proper, they deserve a preference over the interior, especially during the latter part of the summer and autumn. Several of our inland watering-places, independently of the advantages to be obtained, in many cases, from the use of their mineral waters, afford good summer climates; and, indeed, some of them, more on this account than any other, have become places of fashionable resort. Among these we may mention Malvern, Cheltenham, Leamington, Tunbridge Wells, Matlock, &c. In general, it will be advantageous to invalids who have resided during the summer at any of those places, to pass the autumn by the sea-side, as at some of the driest places on the south or south-east coast. In the greater number of cases in which travelling is borne without inconvenience, several changes, or a succession of short journeys, will be more beneficial to most invalids than a residence during the whole season in any one place. It is remarkable how such repeated changes, with frequent gentle exercise, especially on horseback, renovate the constitution enfeebled by disease, enable it to overcome many chronic affections, and contribute to the restoration of permanent health." patients; but nothing can be more unaccountable dangerous than a long one. The body is capable of maintaining its temperature, and of resisting the injurious effects of a cold damp atmosphere, for a certain length of time, with comparative impunity. But if the invalid remain till he becomes chilled, and till the blood forsakes the surface and extremities, and is forced upon the internal organs, he need not be surprised if an increase of his disease, whether of the lungs or of the digestive organs, be the consequence of such exposure. Once and again these visits may be made without any evident mischief; but sooner or later their evil effects will be manifest, as I have very often witnessed. The invalid, unwilling to admit the real cause in such cases, is too apt to impute to the climate that which in truth arises from his own imprudence and indiscretion, in exposing himself to causes which are not necessarily connected with the climate. Excursions into the country, when the warm weather of spring commences, particularly when made on horseback, is another and a frequent source of mischief to delicate invalids. The invalid should arrive at Rome in October, and if the chest be the part affected, and he is still very sensible to the spring winds, the beginning of May will be sufficiently early for him to leave it. After this time, he should move northwards, being guided by the weather as to the period of crossing the Alps; though this should scarcely be done before the middle or end of June. About the Lago Maggiore, or Lago di Como, the invalid may pass a week or two, if the weather is such as to render it prudent for him to delay crossing the mountains. The Simplon at this season is the best route from Italy to Switzerland." We find that we shall not be able to do justice to this valuable work, unless we leave the observations which it contains on Malta, and other districts of sanative celebrity, to another occasion. THE LIFE AND POETRY OF ANACREON.* THE celebrated lyric poet Anacreon was born at Teos, a sea-port of Ionia, in Asia-Minor, about the middle of the sixth century before the Christian era. On an invasion of his native province, he repaired to Abdera in Thrace, and thence to the court of Polycrates, Tyrant of Samos. This term, we may observe in pass In bronchial affections the climate is very generally beneficial, especially in cases where there prevails great irritability of the bronchial membrane, with much sensibility to harsh cold winds. I have known many such patients express themselves as feeling much better at Rome than at Nice, or any of the other places where they had resided. Nothing was more common than to meet with bronchial diseases, which, after hav-ing, had not originally attached to it the odious idea of which, in our language, it is invariably suggestive. ing been benefited by a short residence at Rome, were greatly aggravated by a visit to Naples, and again perpetual ruler of a free state, without reference to the Cornelius Nepos explains the word as denoting any relieved by the return to Rome. In chronic bronch character of his government; and it is used by the itis, indeed, more especially when the disease was of the dry irritable kind, or was complicated with irri- poets as equivalent to prince. To the residence of Anacreon at Samos, Lord Byron alludes in a welltation of the digestive organs, a residence at Rome known composition:produced the best effects; and in cases of this kind I consider it the most favourable residence on the continent. Chronic rheumatism is generally much relieved; but as this disease is very frequently consequent to, or connected with, a disordered state of the digestive organs, it is necessary to take into account the particular form of dyspepsia, before sending a rheumatic patient to Rome. With persons disposed to apoplexy, or who have already suffered from paralytic affections, and valetudinarians of a nervous melancholic temperament, or subject to mental despondency, the climate of Rome does not agree; and in many such cases, indeed, a residence at Rome is fraught with danger; nor is it proper for persons disposed to hæmorrhagic diseases, or for those who have suffered from intermittent fevers. No city in the south of Europe frequented by invalids, affords greater facilities for exercise in the country than Rome. In the variety and extent of its rides, it exceeds every other large city I have visited on the continent. This circumstance, and the immediate vicinity of the public walks to that part chiefly occupied by strangers, renders Rome a far less objectionable abode for invalids than the generality of large towns. The Piazza di Spagna, and streets in that vicinity, afford the best residences. The streets that A climate, however, of a milder description than run in an easterly and westerly direction are to be prethat possessed by any part of Great Britain is too ferred to those running north and south, as they are often indispensable to those affected with pulmonary less exposed to currents of cold air during the prevaand other complaints. Sir James Clark enters at length lence of northerly winds, and the houses have a better into a consideration of the climates of different parts exposure. Both the sitting and bed-rooms of delicate of the continent of Europe. The south-west and south-invalids should, if possible, have a southern aspect. I east of France have both been much resorted to by invalids from Britain. In the former region, Pau seems most approved of. "Upon the whole, Pau appears to be the most desirable winter residence in the south-west of France for invalids labouring under chronic affections of the mucous membranes. In the had the temperature of several bed-rooms noted in the Besides care in the selection of apartments, there same class of diseases, the mineral waters of the Pyre- are other circumstances which require peculiar attennees are also very beneficial; and it may be convenient tion from the invalid residing at Rome. There is no and advisable for the invalid, who has derived benefit place where so many temptations exist to allure him from a course of these waters, to pass the winter at from the kind of life which he ought to lead. The Pau, with a view of returning to them in the follow-cold churches, and still colder museums of the Vatican ing season. Invalids labouring under, or subject to, attacks of rheumatism, should avoid Pau." It is also uncongenial to persons with delicate chests. Sir James Clark rectifies a most important error relative to the south-east of France, in which the much-frequented towns of Montpellier and Marseilles are situated. "Various places in the south-east of France have been, at different times, recommended as affording a good winter climate for consumptive and the Capitol, the ancient baths, &c., are full of "Fill high the bowl with Samian wine-- Were still at least our countrymen." While Polycrates lived, the poet enjoyed his friendship and patronage, and was even admitted a member of his council. Having been presented by this prince with four talents, Anacreon is said to have returned them soon after, with the remark, that the gift, though valuable, was less so than the sleep of which anxiety for its safety had deprived him. On the death of Polycrates, the lyrist was invited by Hipparchus to Athens. His new patron, on this occasion, in token of high esteem, sent for his conveyance a galley of fifty oars. Hipparchus having fallen a victim to conspiracy, Anacreon returned to his native city. Driven thence a second time by domestic troubles, he chose again to retire to Abdera. Here he spent, in careless gaiety, the remainder of a life protracted to eighty-five while drinking, by a grape-stone. In that case, as his years. If tradition may be believed, he was choked, translator, Mr Moore, has observed, "we cannot help admiring that his fate should be so emblematic of his disposition." On this account, however, but little reliance can be placed. It savours too strongly of poetical retributive justice to be credible, that the source of the Teian's favourite indulgences should furnish the instrument that was to close them. On this supposed incident, however, an ingenious Latin epigram was composed by Colius Calcagninus, which is still extant: "The grape's hard heart hath still'd thy swanlike note, And there the odorous rose for ever bloom! That heedless nursed his darling poet's foe." The brief biographical detail now given—a detail we have no means of enlarging-presents us with a curious specimen of the influence of political vicissitudes, in if we may judge from his writings, none could be more ancient times, on men of letters. To these, however, indifferent than the subject of this sketch. men. Anacreon was held in high honour by his countryHis likeness was stamped on the coins of Teos, and a statue was erected to him on the Acropolis of Athens. He was sculptured as a gay old man, under *To prevent all misapprehension, it may be proper to state, been prepared, for the present occasion, by the writer of the that the translations here given from the odes of Anacreon, have article in which they appear.-Ed. |