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CONDUCTED BY WILLIAM CHAMBERS, AUTHOR OF "THE BOOK OF SCOTLAND," &c., AND BY ROBERT CHAMBERS, AUTHOR OF "TRADITIONS OF EDINBURGH," "PICTURE OF SCOTLAND," &c.

No. 186.

LONDON WONDERS.

It is upwards of two hundred years since Shakspeare remarked that his countrymen were disposed to give more for the sight of a dead Indian than for a living Englishman. Goldsmith, at a later period, in despair for the interests of the literary profession, bitterly sneered at the immense fortunes made by men who could balance straws upon their noses, or cut three capers in the air without touching the ground.* It is not very philosophical, we suspect, to point satire of this kind exclusively at the English, for an avidity for wonders is a constituent element of the human mind, and one which seems to be developed in tolerably uniform proportions among all nations. There is certainly, nevertheless, a simplicity in the English character-perhaps a part of their noble straight-forwardness which makes them more liable to be imposed upon, through the medium of their sentiment of wonder, than most other nations. Even in their largest cities, where more mercantile acuteness and intelligence are shown than in any other part of the world, the people are found to fall a very easy prey to those who address this faculty. Hence the multitude and the success of a number of ridiculous exhibitions, which the least reflection might show to be deceptive, from their inconsistency with the order of nature, but which nevertheless, even when detected and denounced, are always sure of another favourable reception in the course of a few years.

One of the most successful of these absurd wonders is known by the popular title of the Pig-Faced Lady. At intervals rarely exceeding twenty years, some cunning rogues trump up a story of "a lady of family and fortune residing in one of the principal squares, who, with charms of form superior to others of her sex, endures the mortifying drawback on her accomplishments, of having the face of a pig. This dreadful misfortune, as it may well be supposed, has a serious effect on her spirits; she has hitherto passed her life in melancholy seclusion, though such is her natural pride of birth that she will take her food in no other manner than from a silver trough!" Mark the air of refinement given to the object of the fiction -"she will only feed from a silver trough!" The narrative of the pig-faced lady being extensively circalated and supported by its originators, the public appetite gets daily more and more keen. Nothing is spoken of but the wonderful lady with the face of a pig. Where does she stay? What is her name? Can any body say how she is to be seen? Now is the moment to strike the lucky blow. Some fine morning the walls are instantaneously covered with placards announcing the eagerly anticipated fact, "that the pig-faced lady, having heard of the curiosity of the public on her account, in order to relieve the melancholy dullness of her existence, has at length consented to allow herself to be exhibited. She at the same time takes the opportunity of expressing her grateful thanks for the commiseration that had been shown towards her under her most afflicting calamity a calamity which, alas! has shut her out from the solacements of society, and left her no other means of mingling in the company of her fellow-creatures, than under the character of a public spectacle." One would imagine that this was going a little too far. No such thing. The placard is read with avidity, and crowds rush to the place of exhibition-some to gratify their appetite for the wondrous, some on the pretence of seeing how the hoax is managed. In reality, the pig

Three capers might be a wonder in the days of Goldsmith; but we are informed that nothing under seven or eight would now tell in the London theatres.

SATURDAY, AUGUST 22, 1835.

faced lady is neither more nor less than a young bear,
well-shaved, fashionably dressed in female attire, and
trained to sit demurely and go through a few tricks.
When a sufficient number of persons has been admit-
ted, a curtain is drawn, and the unfortunate gentle-
woman is seen sitting at a table with music-books
before her. The keeper approaches and addresses
her in a tone of respectful tenderness, informing her
that a number of ladies and gentlemen have come to
offer her their condolences. She looks round, rises
from her seat, puts a handkerchief to her eyes, and,
gently bending to the spectators, sits down once more
with crossed hands (paws) and dejected mien, as if
conscious of the deformity with which she has been
afflicted. Few of course are deceived by this farce;
but all allow that it is well got up, and go away, ap.
parently contented with being duped ingeniously.

The Mermaid is another of the periodical wonders
catered for the sight-seers. The handbill which last
announced such an exhibition, was addressed, in large
letters at the top, "To the Lovers of Nature," and
proceeded to narrate several interesting particulars
respecting both the head and tail of the extraordinary
creature, the place where and the manner in which
she was caught, and other surprising circumstances
"too numerous to mention," concluding with an as-
severation that this singular work of nature, which
formed the connecting link between the human and
finny tribes, had been examined, with astonishment
and delight, by several of the most eminent naturalists
of the age. This was altogether irresistible. The
mermaid was immediately visited by multitudes, with
heads full of all kinds of wild notions, some bent on
inspecting the fins and tail, some eager to see her
swim, and others very anxious to behold her perform-
ing her toilette with her far-famed mirror and comb.
And what did they see for their money? In a room
darkened so as to admit the light through an upper
portion of one of three windows, the object of curiosity
was placed in the centre, within a railing, to prevent
her being handled by the vulgar, as the proprietor
said. It was about four feet in length from head to
tail, the eyes large and brilliant, the snout broad, the
mouth large and awry, the arms long and slender, the
body hairy to the lower extremity, where a surface of
scales commenced, which terminated in a fish's tail.
The showman, with the greatest effrontery, told the
gaping crowds that it had not been long dead; that it
was intended as a present to the king, to grace the
celebrated lake near Windsor, called Virginia Water;
and that the prime minister wept when he heard Miss
Mermaid had breathed her last. This, he said, was
for him a most unfortunate circumstance, since it had
deprived him of an appointment from the first lord of
the admiralty to cruise in the latitudes where she
was found, in search of a Merman, so as to perpetuate
the species snugly at home. The confidence with
which all this was uttered, was intended to draw the
attention from close inspection of that which was half
monkey and half salmon. The hairy body and scaly
tail, however, were eleverly connected, and the suture
was not readily to be discovered. In a short time a
scoffing newspaper paragraph caused the exhibition to
be closed rather suddenly, but not until a very consi-
derable sum of money had been drawn from the
searchers after the marvellous.

The Perpetual Motion, exhibited some years ago, created a considerable sensation. The advertisements were well written, and had an air of scientific sincerity about them, which was apt to impose upon many who thought themselves above imposition. The scientific were respectfully invited to come and pronounce as they found, for, in this extraordinary combination of

PRICE THREE HALFPENCE.

simple agents, the motion could not be diminished by any resisting power, and the desideratum for which the mechanical world had so long languished was now patent to all at a shilling a-head-children and servants half-price.

What a discovery! "Pray," said one to another, "have you seen the perpetual motion ?" "No; I heard that it stopped yesterday." "Sorry for that; intended taking my wife to-day; wish it had not stopped till to-morrow." Crowds did go to witness this wonderful wonder of wonders-and what did they see? In the middle of a spacious room, was a large octagonal construction, raised upon legs about three feet from the floor. Within the framework appeared a number of slender metallic rods, radiating from a point, and descending at an angle of about forty degrees, till they ended in small flat projections attached to a circle which occupied the interior of the glass case. The whole being suspended or balanced on a perpendicular centre, moved slowly round, impelled by some imperceptible agency.

This exhibition was an object of curiosity for some weeks, and realised no small sum of money; but at length a sly incredulous Scotsman penetrated the mystery. Observing some minute apertures in the inside of the exterior case, he soon satisfied himself that streams of air were admitted thereby, so as to hit the projections at the bottom of the rods, and thus keep the whole in steady rotation.

The perpetual motion stopped immediately and without notice, and it probably will not be possible to get up another with any degree of success for at least a dozen years to come.*

Immediately after the battle of Waterloo, a series of advertisements appeared in the daily papers, inviting the lovers of rare productions of nature to inspect an egg, on which were embossed the words, "WELLINGTON, JUNE 18, 1815." Many particulars were given-even the genealogy of the hen-with probable conjectures as to the cause of such an extraordinary prodigy; and as it was presumed that the bird had presented the world with this egg previously to the victory, there was something so mysterious in the circumstance, that it was well entitled to public investigation, for which sixpence each was demanded. Forthwith the wonder-loving portion of the community filled the exhibition-room, where the object, with due ceremony, was shown round by a well-dressed gentleman-like man, who, while he turned the egg that the letters upon it might be distinctly seen by all, very learnedly expatiated on other natural phenomena in a most edifying style, and with surprising volubility. After occupying all the time of the audience in excit ing attention, not to the egg, which he continued to twirl in his fingers, he respectfully bowed and retired, leaving the spectators with their mouths open and their eyebrows on the upper part of their foreheads. They had seen the letters on the egg, and that was enough. During one of the exhibitions, the astonish ing shell received a crack! On the following day it became perfect!! This, a young chemist thought, was carrying the joke too far. He therefore took a common egg, upon which he wrote in varnish the

A perpetual motion was got up a few years ago by a simple Scottish shoemaker, and exhibited in Edinburgh, where it imposed upon some of the most eminent savans. The pretended principle was an alternation of magnetic influences with an interIn this substance, posed substance which neutralized them. which the inventor pretended to have discovered, lay the grand secret. But the movement in reality depended on a weight in a neighbouring room, which operated by a cord communicating through the limb of the table. This weight was regularly wound that, perpetual or not, the motion should have a respect for the up every night, except Sundays, the wife of the impostor insisting fourth commandment.

words, "NAPOLEON, JUNE 18, 1815;" submitted it to a strong acid, which soon corroded the untouched surface: when the varnish had been cleared off with spirits of wine, the legend appeared glossy, while the rest of the egg was rough. With this he proceeded to the wonderful egg exhibition-room, where, confronting the one miracle with the other, he overwhelmed the poor showman with shame and confusion. The exhibition suddenly closed, in consequence of the severe indisposition of the proprietor, and the public had another joke for their money.

The present exposure of these wonders will not, it is hoped, be without its effect, either in deterring knaves from attempting such impostures, or in warning others against giving them encouragement. In the metropolis, there are many exhibitions which can never fail to gratify this passion in its rational forms. There are the Zoological Gardens, the British Museum, the Panorama, the Solar Microscope, the Saloon of Arts, and many others, fixed and migratory. With the genuine prodigies of nature, art, and science, thus at command, it must be a morbid appetite indeed which sends well-dressed men and women (not to speak of half-price children) after wonders which bear cheat and lie upon the very face of them.

INFLUENCE OF MENTAL CULTIVATION UPON HEALTH.

[The following is the first of a series of extracts which we propose to insert occasionally in the Journal, from a small volume, recently published in America, by Amariah Brigham, M.D., under the title of, Remarks on the Influence of Mental Cultivation and Mental Excitement upon Health. We conceive

this work to be one of first-rate importance at the present crisis of

the social history of both the United States and our own country, where greater exertions are beginning to be made in commercial business, in the business of education, and in the general cultivation of the mind, than have been known at any preceding period, perhaps, of the world's existence. To explain, at such a crisis, the physiology of mental operations, and to warn by such knowledge against the excessive use of the intellectual organs, is a duty in which we are delighted to take a part. It may at first sight be presumed that Dr Brigham strikes at the root of Infant Education; a system of which, as our readers must be aware, we are zealous friends. But in reality the learned American can only be held to have written against the abuses of that most promising means for the regeneration of society. We have always held that the main use of infant schools is to give children good moral habits, not to inform their minds with knowledge; and for this reason, that their regulated intercourse in the play-ground, where they imbibe health for both body and mind, is to be considered as the principal part

of infant education. To premature attempts at exercising the

mental faculties, or loading the memory, we are as hostile as the most unthinking advocate for the old system; and could we suppose that infant education is inseparable from such errors, we

should at once cease to afford it countenance. In the infancy of all systems, errors will arise; and we are far from denying that infant teachers, in their undue anxiety to have something to show, in some instances pay too much attention to intellectual, and too little to moral, culture. But as better views are diffused, such

errors must be abandoned. With this protest against the possible misconstruction of Dr Brigham's object, we submit the first portion of his truly valuable work.]

EVERY part of the human system has undoubtedly been created for the performance of some action; as the heart for the circulation of the blood, the eye for seeing, the ear for hearing, the nerves for sensation, the bones to sustain, and the muscles to move the body. That action which nature intended a certain organ to perform, cannot be executed by another organ; the ear cannot supply the place of the eye, or the nerves perform the duties assigned to the muscles. The particular action or duty assigned to several organs of the body we know by the evidence of our senses. We can see and feel the heart beat and the muscles contract. But as regards the action or function of other organs, we have not the same evidence. We do not see the action by which the liver secretes the bile, nor that by which the eye conveys to us a knowledge of outward things, and of their different colours. We do not know, from the evidence of our senses, that any action at all is excited in these organs to produce such results; still we are confident that the liver does produce the bile, and that the eye sees. So as regards mental action, we do not, to be sure, witness it. We never see the mind at work. So far as we can discover by our senses, the most profound thoughts of the philosopher, or the finest conceptions of the poet, produce no action of the brain. The mental operation which determined Cæsar to pass the Rubicon, or Napoleon the heights of St Bernard, could not be perceived to increase or change the action of the brain; yet such facts do not force us to believe that the mind acts independently of this organ. We do not doubt that the stomach is in action, when it separates from the numerous articles which compose an epicure's dinner, or from the coarse and simple fare of the Esquimaux, those particles and those only which are nutritious, and appropriates them to the support of the body, although this action cannot be perceived by us. Neither do we doubt the formation of bile from the blood by the liver, as has been hinted, nor the action of numerous other organs of the body, though we can derive no knowledge concerning their operations through the senses: they are just as mysterious to us as the manner in which the brain modifies thought by its action.

The brain is one of the largest organs in the body: it is better supplied with blood than any other, and is better protected. These facts show that nature designed it to answer very important purposes; and unless it is the organ by which mental operations are performed, there is but little for it to do, and that little comparatively trifling. That it is, however, the material organ of all the mental faculties, scarcely, at this line the mind, means, therefore, to call into regular period of science, requires to be proved. To disciand repeated action certain portions of the brain, and to enable them to manifest easily and powerfully certain mental operations: this process is like that of exercising other organs of the body, thus giving them increased facility in the performance of their respective functions.

There is much proof that the brain consists of a congeries of organs, each of which, in a healthy state, manifests a particular faculty of the mind, and that the power of each faculty chiefly depends on the size of its appropriate organ. I allude to these facts, however, only for the purpose of directing the inquiries of others to them. My present aim is simply to show that the brain, considered as a whole, is the instrument by which the mind operates; and I hope to impress this fact deeply upon the minds of all those who are engaged in the education of youth.

As a first proof, I will refer to that belief in the dependence of the mind upon a sound state of the body, which is forced upon us by almost daily occurrences. We see that severe blows upon the head are followed by an entire deprivation of intellect; sensation and volition are destroyed, at the same time no part of the system is injured but the brain, and the action of other organs goes on as usual. When a person is thus, by a blow or by a fall, deprived of his reason, the bystanders, by an instinctive impulse, look to the head to find the injury. No one ever supposes that an injury of the hand or foot will affect the mind and derange its operations, but all uniformly expect such a result when the brain is wounded; and this general expectation is founded upon observed facts.

Insanity furnishes further evidence that the brain is the organ by which the mind acts; for this is not a disease of the immaterial mind itself, but of the brain, and often resulting from some injury. Such a diseased state of the organ of the mind, of the very instrument of thought or of some part of it, deranges the intellectual faculties, just as a diseased state of the stomach deranges digestion. The immortal and immaterial mind is in itself surely incapable of disease, of decay and derangement; but being allied to a material organ, upon which it is entirely dependent for its manifestations upon earth, these manifestations are suspended or disordered when this organ is diseased.

If the mind could be deranged, independently of any bodily disease, such a possibility would tend to destroy the hope of its immortality which we gain from reason; for that which is capable of disease and decay may die. Besides, it would be natural to expect that mere menttal derangement might be cured by reasoning, and by appeals to the understanding. But attempts to restore the mind in this manner generally prove useless, and are often injurious; for insane persons feel that their understandings are insulted whenever opposition is made to their own hallucinations and to the evidence of their senses. It is fortunate for them that the true nature of mental derangement has of late been acknowledged in practice, and that in all attempts to benefit and cure this unfortunate class of beings, they have been assigned to the physician, and treated for corporeal disease.

The phrase derangement of mind, conveys an erroneous idea; for such derangement is only a symptom of disease in the head, and is not the primary affection. It is true, that moral and mental causes may produce insanity, but they produce it by first occa sioning either functional or organic disease of the brain. On examining the heads of those who die insane, some disease of the brain or its appendages is generally found. I am aware of the statement by many writers, that they have examined heads of the insane, and found no trace of organic disease. But until late years, there has not usually been great accuracy iu such examinations, and slight organic disease might have been overlooked. Even admitting that there was no organic disease in the cases descri ed by these writers, there was undoubtedly functional disease inappreciable by the senses; just as there is often great disorder of the stomach and derangement of digestion which cannot be discovered by dissection. There are in fact no diseases which are independent of affected organs, although the affection may not always be evident to the senses.

of disease in the brain or its membranes were not evident, even when lunacy was recent, and a patient died

of a different disease.

Dr Wright, of the Bethlem Larmatic Hospital, states, that in one hundred cases of insane individuals, whose heads he examined, all exhibited signs of disease; in ninety cases the signs were very distinct and palpable; in the remaining ten they were fainter, but still existed bloody points, when the brain was cut through. in some form or other such, for instance, as that of

One of those writers for the prize offered some years ago by the celebrated Esquirol, for the best Dissertation on Insanity, observes, that he examined the heads of more than one hundred individuals who died from

insanity, and comes to the following conclusions:

1st, That in the brains of those who die of insanity, changes of structure will always be found. 2d, That these changes are the consequences of inflammation, either acute or chronic.

3d, That there exists a correspondence between the symptoms and the organic changes; and that the names monomania, mania, &c. ought only to be employed as representing degrees and stages of inflamma. tion of the brain.

These references to the intimate connection between insanity and disease of the brain have been made, because I propose to show hereafter, that whatever strongly excites the mind or its organ, whether it be study or intense feeling, tends to produce this awful calamity. I shall proceed now with additional evi dence that the brain is the material organ of thought.

This appears then farther, from the fact, that pressure on the brain suspends all the operations of mind. If a person receives a blow upon the head which depresses a portion of the skull upon the brain, his intellect is suspended or deranged until such pressure is removed. Cases like the following are not uncommon. A man at the battle of Waterloo had a small portion of his skull-bone beat in upon the brain, to the depth of half an inch. This caused volition and sensation to cease, and he was nearly in a lifeless state. Mr Cooper raised up the depressed portion of bone from the brain, and then the man immediately arose, dressed himself, became perfectly rational, and recovered rapidly.

The following case occurred in Hartford, within a few weeks:-H. O., a young man, fell in the evening through the scuttle of a store, but arose immediately, mentioned the fall to some of his acquaintance, and transacted business during the evening. Next day he was found in bed in nearly a senseless state, and soon became incapable of speaking, hearing, seeing, or swallowing, and appeared to be dying. There was no evidence of any fracture of the skull, and but very slight appearance of any external injury whatever. Á small swelling over the right ear, and the conviction that he could live but a few minutes in the state in which he then was, determined his medical advisers to perforate the skull.

I removed a small portion of the bone beneath the slight swelling over the ear, by the trephine, and found more than a gill of clotted blood, which had probably flowed gradually from a wounded blood-vessel. On removing this blood, the man immediately spoke, soon recovered his mind entirely, and is now, six weeks after the accident, in good health, both as to mind and body.

Richerand mentions the case of a woman whose brain was exposed, in consequence of the removal of a considerable portion of its bony covering by disease. He says he repeatedly made pressure on the brain, and each time suspended all feeling and all intellect, which were instantly restored when the pressure was withdrawn. The same writer also relates another case, that of a man who had been trepanned, and who perceived his intellectual faculties failing, and his existence apparently drawing to a close, every time the effused blood collected upon the brain so as to produce pressure. Professor Chapman, of Phila. delphia, mentions in his Lectures, that he saw an in.. dividual with his skull perforated and the brain exposed, who was accustomed to submit himself to the same experiment of pressure as the above, and who was exhibited by the late Professor Westar to his class. His intellect and moral faculties disappeared, on the application of pressure to the brain: they were held under the thumb as it were, and restored at pleasure to their full activity, by discontinu ing the pressure.

But the most extraordinary case of this kind within my knowledge, and one peculiarly interesting to the physiologist and metaphysician, is related by Sir Astley Cooper in his Surgical Lectures.

A man, of the name of Jones, received an injury of Although mental derangement may perhaps some- his head, while on board a vessel in the Mediter times occur in individuals who after death exhibit no ranean, which rendered him insensible. The vessel, trace of organic disease, I think such cases are more soon after this accident, made Gibraltar, where Jones rare than has generally been supposed. Dr Haslam was placed in the hospital, and remained several months says that insanity is always connected with organic in the same insensible state. He was then carried on alterations of the brain. Greding has noticed thicken-board the Dolphin frigate to Deptford, and from thence ing of the skull in one hundred and sixty-seven cases was sent to St Thomas's Hospital, London. He lay out of two hundred and sixteen, besides other organic constantly on his back, and breathed with difficulty. disease. Spurzheim says he always found changes of His pulse was regular, and each time it beat, he moved structure in the heads of insane people. M. Georget his fingers. When hungry or thirsty, he moved his dissected a great number of brains, and his experience lips and tongue. Mr Cline, the surgeon, found a poris conformable to that of the authors above mentioned. tion of the skull depressed, trepanned him, and reMr Davidson, house surgeon to the Lancaster County moved the depressed portion. Immediately after this Lunatic Asylum, examined with great care the heads operation, the motion of his fingers ceased, and at four of two hundred patients who died in the asylum, and o'clock in the afternoon (the operation having been he scarcely met with a single instance in which traces performed at one) he sat up in bed; sensation and

CHAMBERS'S EDINBURGH JOURNAL.

volition returned, and in four days he got out of bed,
and conversed. The last thing he remembered was
the circumstance of taking a prize in the Mediter-ganisation of their heads.
ranean. From the moment of the accident, thirteen
months and a few days, oblivion had come over him,
and all recollection had ceased. He had for more than
one year lived wholly unconscious of existence; yet, on
removing a small portion of bone which pressed upon
the brain, he was restored to the full possession of the
powers of his mind and body.

It is curious to notice, that often an injury of the brain impairs only that part of the mental faculties. Such instances give great support to the phrenological views of Gall and Spurzheim, who contend for a plu. rality of organs in the brain, and a separate and peculiar function to each organ, as, one organ for comparison, another for language, another for tune, &c. Dr Beattie mentions the case of a learned man, who, after a blow on his head, forgot all his Greek, a language he was well versed in before the injury. His mind and memory were not affected in any other respect. Another person, mentioned by Dr Abercrombie, lost all recollection of his having a wife and children, for several days after a similar injury, while his memory of the accident and of recent circumstan. ces was perfect.

Sir Astley Cooper mentions, from personal knowledge, the case of a German sugar-baker, with disease of the brain, who, in the early stage of his complaint, spoke English, but, as his disease advanced, forgot this language, and remembered only the German. The same author relates the case of a man at St Thomas's Hospital, who, after a blow upon his head, was found talking in a language unknown to all, until a Welsh woman, who entered the hospital, recognised it as Welsh: the blow upon his head had caused him to forget the English language.

Dr Conolly relates a still more remarkable case of a young clergyman, whose head was severely injured a few days before that on which he was to have been married. He recovered as to his health, and lived until the age of eighty; but from the time of the injury his understanding was permanently deranged, though he retained the recollection of his approaching marriage, talked of nothing else during his whole life, and expressed impatience for the arrival of the happy day.

But we see analogous affections resulting from fevers, and other diseases which affect the brain. Dr Rush says that many of the old Germans and Swiss in Pennsylvania, who had not spoken their native language for fifty or sixty years, and who had probably forgotten it, would often use it in sickness; and he explains it by supposing that the stimulus of the fever in their brains revived their recollection.

He refers also to the case of an Italian, who was master of the Italian, French, and English languages, but who, in a fever which terminated his life in the eity of New York, spoke English in the commencement of his disease, French only in the middle, and on the day of his death Italian.

Numerous cases are related, of persons who, from disease affecting the brain, forget names and events, times and places, but retain a perfect recollection of persons and numbers. As like symptoms arise from blows on the head, and often from fevers, we cannot doubt that the brain is very similarly affected in both cases. Insanity is known frequently to arise from blows on the head, and fevers often make people insane for years, who are suddenly restored to the full possession of their mental powers, just as Jones was restored by trepanning, after remaining a year in an insensible state.

Numerous instances similar to those which I have related are found in works on mental derangement, and they all tend to prove that a well-developed and sound brain is absolutely necessary for correct and powerful operation of the mind. Many of them are exceedingly interesting, and very difficult to explain, except on the ground adopted by Gall and Spurzheim, and eloquently developed and illustrated by Messrs Combe.

the many instances of idiots and cretins, who are all
nearly destitute of intellect, and defective in the or-
examinations of the heads of such individuals, says
There have been many
Esquirol, and they have usually been found to be of
vicious formation. The same writer adds this im-
portant remark, "that idiots and cretins sometimes
mise of possessing superior mental powers; but these
manifest great intelligence in early life, and give pro-
lects remain stationary, and the hopes they excited
premature beings soon become exhausted, their intel-

soon vanish."

is made evident, also, from the fact that whatever ex-
The general proposition which I wish to establish,
cites the mind, excites and stimulates the brain.

This we know from experience in a severe head-
ache. We perceive the pain to be increased by in-
tense study or thinking, and that mental application
mental excitement produces an increased flow of blood
determines more blood to the head. So true is it that
a quiet state of mind in those whose heads are wounded.
to the head, that surgeons are very careful to preserve
Sir Astley Cooper, speaking of such injuries, says, that
if any mental power remains, all excitement of the
brain should be avoided; and relates the following
the north of England, who had lost a portion of his
case. "A young gentleman was brought to me from
skull just above the eyebrow.
head, I distinctly saw the pulsations of the brain,
which were regular and slow; but at this time he was
On examining the
agitated by some opposition to his wishes, and directly
the pulsations of the brain were increased, and became
therefore, you omit to keep the mind free from agita-
more violent, and more blood rushed to the brain. If,
tion, your other means will be unavailing in the in-
juries of the head."

sary to prepare them for the active and powerful ma235 nifestation of the mental faculties.

other organ of the body, for we might as well expect The healthy condition and proper exercise of the good digestion with a diseased stomach, or good music brain are therefore far more important than of any And yet, how little regard has been paid to these imordered, enfeebled, or improperly developed brain, from a broken instrument, as a good mind with a dispeople are exceedingly fearful of enfeebling and deportant truths, in the cultivation of the mind! While stomach, they do not appear to think they may enstroying digestion, by exciting and overtasking the feeble or derange the operation of the mind by eximperfectly developed, as it is in childhood. citing the brain, by tasking it when it is tender and

"IT'S MY LUCK,"

AN IRISH SKETCH, BY MRS S. C. HALL.
into foreign parts would make a heathen of ye entirely.
[Abridged from the Amulet, for 1833.]
"WELL, ma'am dear, I never thought that ye'r going
own people; but to shift that way against what the
To be sure, it turns the mind a little to leave one's
that couldn't even it to you, at all, at all-so I couldn't
whole world knows to be as true as gospel! It's myself
if I hadn't heard it with my own ears!"
notions of predestination, for"—
"I assure you, Moyna, you are very much mis-
taken in imagining that the whole world adopt your

tongue round the word."
but I said nothing about pre-pre-I can't twist my
"I ax ye'r pardon for interrupting you, my lady;

"Predestination, Moyna, means what you call Luck you own wishes." Moyna looked puzzled-exceedspirit that deals out to you good or evil, in defiance of -a thing you believe you cannot avoid-a sort of ingly puzzled: she knocked the ashes out of her pipe against the post originally intended to support a gate, prevented from being either made or hung; and, stuffwhich, according to Moyna's reading, "her luck" had remained in its recess, the returned it to her pocket ing her middle finger into the bowl of the little puffing medium, so as to ascertain that no hidden fire

that of a young man, who had an opening in his skull
The same author mentions another similar case;
from a wound, through which he could see an increased
action in the brain, whenever any thing occurred, even
in conversation, to agitate the mind of the patient.
Thavernier, a captain in the
The following case is related by M. Broussais. M.
years of age, moderately stout, but well formed, re-
ceived, in the middle of the Palais Royal, in May
regiment, forty-two
1815, ninety days before his death, a letter containing clasped her hands so as to grasp the post within
less as if thunderstruck, and the left side of his face
Whilst perusing it, he remained motion. their palms, and, leaning against it, one foot crossed
became paralysed, and drawn to the opposite side. little round, and called to her husband by the fami-
He was taken to Val de Grace, and attended to.
over the instep of the other, she turned her head a
this time he had complete paralysis of the arm, thigh,
and leg of the right side, and was unable to speak.
At liar but affectionate appellation of "Tim a vourneen !"
After using various remedies for more than two
months, he began to improve, and became so much
better as to be able to stand up, and to speak, although
with difficulty.

bad news.

ceived another letter, said to be from his wife: he read
In this state of improvement, M. Thavernier re-
it, and instantly there occurred loss of speech, general
immobility, abolition of sense, and complete apoplexy.
amining the head, there was found engorgement of
He died in three days after this attack, and, on ex-
blood in the sinuses, and several abscesses were ob-
served in the substance of the brain, and other marks
of organic disease. M. Broussais considers this a case
moral cause.
of chronic inflammation of the brain, induced by a

stimulates the brain, is proved by numberless cases,
The same general fact, that mental excitement
and forms the basis of correct treatment of diseases of
the brain, and especially of insanity.

This disease is generally produced by morbid exfor its cure that this disordered organ should be left citement of some portions of the brain, and requires in absolute repose. lums for lunatics, where this unhappy class of persons Hence arises the benefit of asyhave no cares, no wants to provide for, and where their minds are not excited, but soothed by kind words and gentle and affectionate treatment. is such as wonderfully to increase the powers of the Sometimes the increased flow of blood to the head These writers divide the intellectual faculties into mind. Pine!, and other writers on insanity, relate two classes the knowing and the reflecting. cases of patients, who possessed but weak minds when knowing faculties are individuality, form, size, weight, superior powers of intellect during paroxysms of inThe in their usual state of health, but who exhibited very colouring, locality, order, time, number, tune, and lan-sanity, which determined more blood to the head than guage; the reflecting faculties are comparison and ordinarily. Similar facts I have noticed in the incausality. Each faculty has a separate and material instrument or organ in the brain, and memory be- increased; at other times, imagination, or wit, &c.; sane: sometimes the memory seems to be wonderfully longs to each faculty: hence there are as many kinds and thus many of the insane are supposed to possess of memory as there are organs for the knowing and uncommonly brilliant mental powers. reflecting faculties. They say, moreover, that me. mory is only a degree of activity of the organs: hence from disease or other causes, increasing the activity of the organs, the recollection of things is far more vivid at one time than at another. This enables us to explain those cases that frequently occur, in which, from some injury of the brain, a person loses the memory of words, but retains that of things. Dr Gregory mentions the case of a lady, who, after an apoplectic attack, recovered her recollection of things, but could not name them; others forget the names of their most intimate friends, whose persons they perfectly recollect. I have a patient at the present time, whose memory is good as respects every thing but places: he recollects perfectly, persons, names, events, &c., but does not recollect his own or his neighbours' houses, or the place in which he has resided for many years. Further proof of the connection between the state of the brain and that of the mind, might be adduced from

intimate connection between the brain and the mind; I might adduce many more cases to prove the very that it is a defective brain which makes the idiot, and a diseased brain which causes delirium and insanity; alcohol or by opium, &c. arise from the disordered acand that all the various states of mind produced by the weak mind manifested by the infant, and the feeble tion which these articles produce in the brain; that mind by the aged, are produced by a small and undeveloped, or an enfeebled and diseased brain, and not by a change of the immaterial mind itself. But cases enough have been cited to prove these truths. And if we do admit that the brain is the organ by which the mind acts, we must acknowledge the necessity of guarding this organ most carefully, of exercising it with extreme caution, of not endangering its delicate preventing its full developement by too little; for the structure at any period of life by too much labour, or regular exercise of all the organs of the brain is neces

made his bow from beneath the roof of a picturesque "Tim"-or, to speak correctly, Timothy Bradybut most comfortless sheeling-a cottage that would ter essentially different from a delightful cottage in have looked delightful in a painted landscape-a matsurrounding scenery: wood and water-hill and dale reality. Nothing could be more beautiful than the head-the turrets of a lofty castle shining among the woods-and the lawns and shrubberies of another, ex-a bold mountain in the distance-a blue sky over or eight huts, similar in appearance to my poor friends' tending to the little patch of common, on which seven dwelling, were congregated.

nerality of his countrymen, except that he was "better
Timothy Brady differed in nothing from the ge-
larned," for he could read and write, and, when a
noted as being "remarkable handsome at the altar."
lad, was in great esteem as a "C
mass server," and
I had not seen him for some time, and was struck
with the painful change which a few years had made
careless, affectionate "slob of a girl," who would "go
in his fine athletic form. Moyna had ever been a
from Bantry to Boyne to sarve me on her bare knees,"
but had little idea of serving herself. Such a charac-
ter is not improved by age; but there was a time when
I had hoped a better fate for Timothy. His sunken
eye became bright and animated when he saw one
who had rendered him some service, and he pulled up
gets in the presence of a female. After the usual
gard to propriety which an Irish peasant rarely for
his stockings over his bare legs, with that striking re-
civilities had passed, Moyna commenced-
awhile ago."
may be, she'll have the goodness to say what she said
"The lady's at me agin about the luck, and now,
is what she calls Luck, and that she would agree very
well with the Turks."
"I told your wife that Predestination

hands and eyes in horror.
"The Turks!" repeated Moyna, throwing up her
never thought you'd even the Turks to one of your
"Oh, ma'am, honey-I
the typhus fever? Was I".
own country! Oh, Tim, Tim! was I like a Turk
when I sat by your bed, night and day, while ye had

66

Moyna, will ye whisth, woman dear!-you have the Turks had different names for the same thing. no understanding; the lady only meant that you and different names. Wasn't that it ?" I bowed and smiled. I'd agree with the Turks." "Was that it? Och, bother !-to be sure we have I ax ye'r pardon, but I think ye said Timothy took up the matter. "Yes, good Moyna, in one thing; you believe in 'luck,' and so do they." Moyna was appeased, and

lady dear, that's the short and the long of it. It's my "There's no denying luck, nor no going against it, luck never to make as much by any thing as another. Why the bonneen we reared from the size o' my hand, mas, caught could and died at Easter-sorra a man on that Dorney Cobb offered me any money for at Candle the common had the luck to lose a pig but myself!"

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"How did it catch cold ?" "Out of nothing in the world but my luck; it was used, poor thing, to sleep in the cabin with ourselves, as the sty had no roof: but a neighbour's child was sick, and my woman axed some of the family in, and the pig was forced, out of manners, to give up his bed, and sleep in the sty, which, as it had no roof, let in the rain. And it was mournful to hear the wheezing he had in the morning, and to see him turn his back on the pick of the mealy potatoes just before he died."

"Well, Timothy, I should call that mismanagement; I do not see either good or bad luck in the case; for it is clear that, if the sty had been roofed, the pig would not have been accustomed to cottage warmth, and, consequently, could not have caught cold."

of penance, to say nothing of being had up, and he swearing he gave no provocation. For sartin I didn't mean to have struck so hard, and didn't think his bones were so soft. But that wasn't all of it-going home, the trouble of what I had done uppermost, I forgot what Mat said about the horse, and got on the baste's back, who made no more ado but kicked and plunged, and pitched me into the thick of a pond full of young ducks and geese; and two ganders set upon me, and as good as tore the eyes out of iny head, be fore I could get out of the water; and I had to pay two and three-halfpence for the young that was killed in the scrummage. And well I know it's long afore such luck would have followed any other boy in the parish but myself. Now, ma'am dear, isn't that luck ?" "Is your story finished, Tim ?”

"It just is, ma'am, darlint-that is, I mean the sty story is finished; but I could tell ye twenty as good, and better too, to show what ill luck I have."

"Well, lady, listen-it was my luck entirely that hindered my roofing the sty. I'll tell ye all about it. Did ye know Tom Dooly ?-sorra a hand's-turn he'd "There is no luck, ill or well, that I can see, from do from Monday morning till Saturday night, bar- beginning to end. Your misfortunes entirely arose ring the height of mischief. Ye didn't know Tom ?- out of your want of punctuality; had your shoes been well, ma'am, I'm sure you mind his brother Micky-mended, as they ought to have been, you could have 'One-eyed Mick,' he was called, because he as good gone for the straw with comfort on the evening you as lost the other in a bit of a spree at the fair of Rath- were desired. Still, their not being mended was no mullin, and could get no justice for it." "No justice excuse for your want of punctuality. You put me in for the spree, do you mean, Timothy ?" mind of an anecdote I heard once of two Irishmen, who were too lazy to pluck the figs that hung over their heads in a beautiful garden in Italy. There they lay on their backs, beneath a tree covered with fruit, their mouths open for the figs to fall into. At last a fig, by what you would call * luck,' fell into the mouth of one of these Irishmen. What a lucky dog you are, Paddy!' said the other, opening his great mouth still more widely. I don't know that, Looney,' replied Paddy, after swallowing the fig, for I have had the trouble of chewing it !' "

"No, ma'am ; Í mean no justice for his eye; clearly proving there's no law for the poor-God help them! The boy he fought with was as good as thirty years older than himself, a tough ould fellow, with a crack. stick skull that nothing could harm. So Mick know'd that, and he never offered at the head, but the shins -which he broke as complate as any thing you ever saw. And so the magistrate set the ould boy's shins against Mickey's eye, and bid them make it up. Ah! there's no law for the poor, at all, at all!" "But, Timothy, let us get back to where we set out-the pig-sty."

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"Troth, yes," returned Tim, "though I'm sorry to take a lady to such a subject. Tom Dooly says to me, says he, Tim, ye're in want of a lock of straw to keep the heavens out of the piggery.' 'I am,' says I. 'Well,' says he, come over to me; I've a lot of as fine barley straw as ever danced under a flail, and ye shall have it, just for thank ye.' 'God bless ye, and good luck to you and yours, Mister Tom,' says I, "good luck to you and your's for ever and ever, amen!' And when 'ill you look over for it ?' says he. Tomorrow, for certain,' says I. 'Very good-to-morrow by all means,' says he, and make my respects to the woman that owns ye.' Now, ma'am dear, mind the luck; something or other hindered Moyna from taking my brogues, to be mended, to the brogue-maker's that night. So I couldn't go the next day, and that very evening a great splinter ran into my foot out of the spade-handle."

6

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66 Stop, my good friend; if the spade handle was splintered, why did you not mend it ?"

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"Ma'am dear, that was a way you had, ever and always, tripping a body up in their story. Sure I did mend that is, I eased it with a bit of a cord. But it was my luck hindered me, and the bad foot, from going the day after that; and one thing or another came across me, until it was just a week before I could go for the straw. Well, the black boy himself put it into my head to borrow Matthew Maccan's white mare. 'Take her and welcome,' says Matty; but mind, if you put yourself or any thing else on her, she'll kick till she smashes every bone in your body, though she'll draw a creel or a cart.' Thank ye kindly, Matthew,' says I; 'I'll mind fast enough,' and away I went. And at his own gate I saw Tom, as grand as Cromwell, with his hands in his pockets, and a silk Barcelona round his neck, like any gentleman. To be sure the luck of some people! Good evening, Tim,' says he. Good evening kindly,' says I. Where are you going with Matthew Maccan's beast?' says he. 'No farther than this,' says I, until I go home again.' 'I'm always glad to see an ould friend,' says he; but why didn't ye come,' says he again, for the barley straw?' Sure I'm come for it now,' says I. You are!' says he, opening his great grey eyes at me, like a wild cat; sorra as much for ye, then, as would build a sparrow's nest,' says the traitor: If ye'd been glad of it, you would have come when you was bid to come, and not let a whole week rowl over your head. I gave the straw to Jemmy Hatchet, and by this time it's no straw, but a roof, and a good one too, to his sty, and his neat clean barn. It's ill done of ye,' says I, as cool as a cabbage-leaf, though my blood was boilin' at the ill luck that fol lows me; 'ye might have waited; but never heed,' and I turned the horse round to come home. Sure,' says he, 'ye're not going to stir ill-blood out of the offer I made ye from kindness; if ye did not take advantage of it, it was your fault, not mine.' Well, I didn't value the straw a traneen, ma'am dear; I've a spirit above it; but I did not like his bestowing his dirty straw upon Jemmy Hatchet: so I makes answer, 'Do you say I'm in fault?' To be sure I do,' he says, with a grin of a laugh. Then by this, and by that,' I says, swearing a great whale of an oath, that I'd be sorry to repeat before a lady, I'll make ye eat both ye'r words and the straw.' Ye can't,' says he; and what's more, ye dar'n't; s'n't I the priest's nephy? Well, that would rouse the blood of a wood queest, for it was cowardly-like; and, as my luck would have it, I hot him an unlucky blow; and a dale of sorrow it got me into; for I had the world and all

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"Agh, ma'am, honey! I wonder how you have the heart to tell such stories against your own country; letting the foreigners laugh at us that way."

"Listen, Timothy; how would your own case read? Timothy Brady was indicted for an assault upon Mister Thomas Dooly, who swore that he told the aforesaid Timothy Brady, that, if he came to him on the evening of the first of May, he would make him a present of a load of straw to thatch his pig-sty: that Brady promised to come, but never came until the seventh of May; and in the meantime he, Thomas Dooly, thinking that Brady did not wish to thatch his pigsty, had given the load of straw to an industrious man who did thatch his pig-sty; that when Brady found the straw had been given, he, without any provocation"-" Oh, easy, ma'am dear! you forget the laugh."

And who could help laughing ?-without any provocation did assault the said Thomas Dooly.' Now is not so, worthy Timotheus ?"

Reasoning with the Irish on this same subject is pretty much like attempting to swim against the stream of a powerful river. You catch some little turn or current, and you think you have them there. No such thing. Away they go the next minute.

Moyna now took up the subject. "Sure, ma'am, you must allow that what happened to Milly Boyle was luck! Poor thing!-she'd as bad luck as her neighbours, and worse too, but she could not go past what was before her."

66

Milly Boyle-I remember her a blue-eyed, fair. haired girl." "With rosy cheeks, and a smile ever ready to coax them into dimples. Ah, ma'am ! she was the pride of the whole village. And her poor mother (and she a widdy) doated on her as mother never doated on child before or since, to my thinking. Then her voice was as clear as a bell, and as sweet as a linnet's; and though she had forty pounds to her fortune, besides furniture, a feather-bed, and a cow, to say nothing of the pigs, and powers of fowl, and lashings of meal and cutlings (sure her uncle, big Larry Boyle, is a miller) though she had all them things, she was as humble as a wild violet, and to the poor was ever ready with a soft word, and a God save you kindly,' and her hand in her pocket, and out with a fivepenny bit, or a tester; or would think nothing of lapping her cloak round her, and away to any sick woman, or poor craythur of a man that 'u'd be ailing, and give them the grain of tea, or the bit of tobaccy, or taste of snuff, to comfort them; and the prayer of the country side was, 'Good luck to Milly Boyle! To be sure if she hadn't the bachelors, no girl ever had. Shoals of 'em watch ing for her coming out of chapel, or from the station, or the wake, as it might be, waylaying her, as a body may say; and though she was main civil to them all, and smiles were as plenty and as sweet with her as harvest-berries, yet it was long before she laid her mind to any, until her fancy fixed on Michael Langton; one of the best boys in the barony; handsome and well to do in the world was Michael, and every one was rejoiced at her luck. Well, the day was fixed for the wedding; and even the poor mother thanked God on her knees. And the evening before, Michael and Milly were walking down by the river at the bottom of the common, and Milly spied a bunch of wild roses hanging over the stream, and she took a fancy to the flowers; and to be sure Mike made a spring at them, but his luck took the footing from under him, and the poor boy was drowned in the sight of her eyes. But the worst of the woe is to come; she got a brain fever out of the trouble, and the fever scorched up her brain, so that there was no sense left in it, though her heart was as

warm as ever; and then she used to go rambling about the counthry, with her hands crossed on her breasts, and her eyes evermore wandering; and if she'd hear a cry or a moan, she'd run to see if she could do any thing to lighten the throuble, and yet she had no sense left to know how to set about it. oh, ma'am dear, the mother of her!-to see that poor woman fading away from off the face of the earth, and following her as if she was her shadow!-'twas the hardest luck I ever knew.”

"And what became of poor Milly ?"

And

"The worst of luck, if it's as long as a midsummer day, must have an end-and so, ma'am dear, Milly died. And it was quare, too, she was found dead under a wild-rose tree-1 often heard they were un lucky things-there she was, and I heard them that found her tell, that it was a beautiful melancholy sight to see her her cheek resting on her arm as if she was asleep, and ever so many of the rose-leaves scattered, by nature like, over her white face!" "And her mother ?"

"Ah, ma'am, they say ould hearts are tough! but if it's true, sorrow can tear them to pieces-the two were buried in the same grave."

Moyna's story moved me much; I wished them both a kind good morrow, and had nearly arrived at the village where we lodged, when, panting and breathless, she overtook me.

"What's the matter, Moyna ?"

"Oh, the man has the toothache so bad that I'm forced to run for a pipe; the smoking does it good." "What! has he not a pipe ?" "He bad, ma'am, but he lent it to Briney Moore." "But I saw you put a pipe in your pocket not twenty minutes ago."

"So you might, ma'am dear; that's my luck; it would have staid quiet and easy in any body else's pocket, but there was a hole in mine; so it walked out, and broke, without so much as by ye'r leave." "Why did you not mend the hole?"

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SCRAPS FROM THE PORTFOLIO OF A NATURALIST.

Ir has been often asserted that a lover of natural history cannot be a bad man, an opinion to which I heartily subscribe. The everlasting hills, the majestic forest, the boundless ocean, draw our thoughts from nature up to nature's God; and whether we gaze at the sun which cometh forth as a bridegroom out of his chamber, or at the meanest insect which sports its little day, and is gone, all bear the mighty impress of His hand, who created the heavens and the earth, and upholds them by his power.

Let all, then, who have a taste for natural history, cultivate that taste in the full assurance that he will be richly rewarded for his labour. I do not by any means join in the sentiment of the French countess, who declared "she toils at innocent pleasures." On the contrary, I would recommend the cultivation of innocent pleasures as one of our best defences against the indulgence of those of an opposite tendency. I therefore earnestly recommend all those who have leisure, and an occasional vacant hour to fill up, to devote a little of their time to the study of the interesting objects by which they are surrounded.

The man who can find pleasure in watching the wonderful operations carried on in a bee-hive, will not be reduced to have recourse to the gaming-table for amusement; and he who is familiar with the haunts of the eagle, who loves the morning song of the lark, who delights to watch the return of the rooks to their nests, to gather the dew-sprinkled heath, or to nail the trailing woodbine on the porch, will find he has pleasures within his reach which the votaries of dissipation and folly must never hope to taste. But, above all, I would endeavour to impress on the minds of parents the vast importance of teaching their children those branches of the study referring to the animal creation, as tending materially to root out that cruelty which, springing from our depraved na ture, is so often to be observed in children, and never without regret and apprehension; for when we reflect that "the boy is father to the man," we shall then see the necessity of checking propensities which, if overlooked in youth, will invariably lead to misery and ruin.

Cats are a much traduced race. Their ingratitude is held up to public odium, and the generality of people will not allow that a cat can possess a single virtue. I cannot agree in this opinion. I have seen cats show a great deal of sensibility, yes sensibility,

and give proofs of attachment and gratitude for kindness, of which the following is one of the many instances that have come under my observation :-Mrs A. had a cat of which she was very fond, and whose dinner was provided with as much regularity as that of any member of the house, by the cook bringing home a liver once a-week when she went to purchase provisions for family use. When the liver was brought home, it was cut into seven pieces, and puss had each day her allotted portion. It so happened that Mrs A. was taken ill and confined to bed. No sooner did the cat miss her kind friend, than she made her way to Mrs A.'s chamber, and, jumping on the bed, she caressed her mistress, licking her face and hands, and expressing by every means in her power her sympathy and affection. After a time, the cat became restless; she leapt from the bed, planted herself close to the door, and waited with evident impatience till it was opened. The moment this was done, she ran down stairs, and, to her mistress's great surprise, she returned immediately with a piece of liver in her mouth, which she laid on the bed, and seemed to solicit her to eat; thinking, perhaps, that she was suffering from hunger. The gratitude of puss did not end here; for on the next market-day, when the cook brought in the liver, ere she had time to divide it, puss slyly seizing the opportunity when her back was turned, pounced upon the liver, rushed up stairs with it, and laid it on the counterpane with evident marks of plea sure, and with gestures which seemed to say, "See what a fine dinner I have brought you; pray get up and eat it." Every one has heard that a worm will turn when trod on, but few persons perhaps are aware that there may be provocation so great as to rouse the choler of the proverbially meek and gentle lamb, and that he is not only susceptible of feeling resentment against injuries, but that, when circumstances require it, he can boldly assert his rights; nay more, that he can even inflict chastisement when he thinks it deserved. No one will doubt this fact after perusing the following anecdote of Bobby-a strange name, by the way, for the hero of a tale, but which was probably conferred on him as being expressive of his peculiar qualities, which were by no means those of meekness

and forbearance.

The commencement of Bobby's story is rather of a sentimental cast, seeing that he became an orphan at his birth. Being deprived of maternal care, the gentleman to whom he belonged placed him under the superintendence of the dairy-maid, who received strict orders to rear him with all due care and kindness. Bobby's orphan state interested every one in his favour; he was petted and indulged in every possible way; the natural consequence of which was, that, like other favourites, he began to presume on his preferment; he became riotous and unmanageable, and did not scruple even to push at Molly if his breakfast was not ready at the usual time. When the weather became fine, Bobby was turned into the poultry yard; and as he had no companions there of his own race, he associated with a flock of geese, who good-naturedly permitted him to join their circle. As long as the geese remained on dry land, Bobby was in high good-humour, but when they took to the water, nothing could exceed his uneasiness and vexa. tion; and he would run round and round the pond, bleating as if his heart would break; and he would welcome their return to land with as much transport as a sailor would show to a party of shipwrecked mariners.

In process of time, Bobby discovered that the old gander was the constant promoter, and, in fact, the ringleader in all these water parties. This was more than Bobby could bear; and one day, when the unsuspicious gander was waddling towards the pond, the geese following him in Indian file, Bobby fell upon him with the utmost fury, and beat him so severely as soon to drive him from the field, and there is no saying what the consequences might have been, if the servants had not interfered in behalf of the poor bird. This was Bobby's first duel, but by no means his last; for many desperate encounters took place. It was remarked that Bobby never molested the geese; the gander alone was the object of his fury, and then only at the time when, as Bobby imagined, he was leading his family to ruin and destruction. Bobby's feelings are not to be condemned, and we ought to pause before we blame his mode of showing them, knowing, as we all do, how many persons there are in the world who are insensible to every argument but the argument of blows.

A Spanish gentleman, residing in the island of Jersey, has a large dog, which has on many occasions shown great sagacity and other good qualities, of which I shall give a few examples. Jimbo has a strong regard for the children of his master; he never fails to attend them when they go from home, and he waits contentedly at the door of any house they may hap. pen to visit till they come out. As Jimbo was considered to be a safe and trusty messenger, he was often employed to carry home the purchases made in the town of St Helier's by the family. One day his young master, having bought a dozen of eggs, put them into a small basket, which also contained a napkin, and desired Jimbo to carry them home. Jimbo set off

kin in his teeth, and laid them down at the feet of Senora B., with a deprecating look. When young Senor B. returned, and was informed of what had happened, he immediately called the dog to him; and taking down a whip, he demanded to be shown what had become of the eggs that had been entrusted to his care. On this Jimbo instantly set off, and conducted his young master to the place of combat, where lay the remains of the eggs and the fragments of the basket. For this breach of discipline and betrayal of trust, Jimbo received a sound drubbing, which be bore with seeming patience; but from that day forward neither threats, blows, nor caresses, would ever induce Jimbo to make another marketing.

back on no one. This audacious speech roused the ire of the rival postilion, who seemed ready to jump out of his jack-boots from pure indignation. He retorted, the other replied; queues whisked, whips cracked, dogs yelled, horses plunged, and children screamed- but all to no purpose; neither of the disputants would yield; and in all probability the combatants would have bivouacked on the field, if the authorities had not interfered and put an end to the struggle.

This may seem rather an odd introduction to an incident connected with natural history, but a perusal of the following anecdote will throw some light on the subject, and prove to our entire satisfaction that animals also have their points of honour, and that they know and assert their rights touching precedence, with a pertinacity which would do honour to the most aristocratic dame in the land.

Having now related Jimbo's bad, I think it incumbent on me to display his good, qualities, remarking, by the way, that if this rule were observed in commenting on the errors of bipeds, there would be much less suffering in the world than there is at this mo While on a visit to a friend residing in Wiltshire, I ment: but let that pass, and return we to Jimbo, happened one day to pass the farm-yard at the time whose magnanimity to a fallen foe might redeem a the dairy-maid was driving in the cows. They were much more serious error than that of the escapade I all safely housed but one, which appeared to be of a have just related. A Spanish gentleman, who visited most obstreperous disposition. Go in to the cowthe family of Senor B., had a large and surly ill-house she would not. She ran about the yard tossing tempered dog, and Jimbo and he never encountered her head and kicking up her heels, making a most each other without having a regular fight. When tremendous uproar, and seeming to think herself an this gentleman returned to Spain, finding it impos- exceedingly ill-used animal. Sometimes she would apsible to take the dog with him, he left him in the care proach the door, but on the slightest attempt to put of a gentleman with whom he was slightly acquainted, her in, away she scoured, and the panting dairy-maid and who, having no desire to be troubled with such "toiled after her in vain." an ill-tempered animal, beat him out of doors; and he was found by one of Senor B.'s sons wandering in the streets of St Helier's, half dead with cold and hunger. Moved by compassion, the kind-hearted youth took him home, not, however, without certain misgivings as to the reception Jimbo was likely to bestow on him. But what was the surprise of the family to see Jimbo, so far from assaulting his ancient enemy, go up to him and lick him gently; he then lay down close to him to bring him in warmth, and with his paws pushed the food to the starving animal, who was almost too feeble to walk to the spot where the servant had placed it.

Before leaving this subject, I shall relate an anecdote of another dog, which I heard from a Spanish gentleman, who knew Carlo's master, and who vouched for the truth of the following story :-A gentleman residing in Seville had a dog named Carlo, and a very knowing dog he was. His master, who had much confidence in his prudence and discretion, not only employed him to bring provisions from the market, but also entrusted him with money to pay for the various articles commissioned. For a long time Carlo conducted himself in the most irreproach able manner, carrying the billet and money to the butcher's, and conveying home a piece of beef or a fine fat pullet, as the case might be. Carlo continued to fill his situation in the commissariat to the entire satisfaction of the partner concerned; no fraud, no peculation, was ever laid to his charge; in short, Carlo showed by his daily conduct, that he not only knew the duties of a commissary, but what is still more remarkable, he actually practised them. But, alas ! how many men in the midst of an honourable career may be tempted to make a false step-so it was with Carlo. Some shabby dog, it was supposed, had affronted him; he set down the basket, and, while engaged in chastising his foe, an urchin peeped into the basket, seized the piece of money, and directly made off, without waiting to congratulate the victor. Carlo having sufficiently punished his adversary, shook his ears, and, quite unconscious of the loss he had sus tained, seized the basket with his teeth, trotted off to market in double quick time, and presented himself before the butcher. "How is this?there is no money here, Carlo," said the butcher, after taking out the billet, and turning the basket upside down. For a few moments Carlo hung his head in evident confusion; and then, as if a sudden thought had struck him, he rushed out of the market. A way he went helter-skelter through the crowded streets, upsetting a gallego with his water jar, bouncing against a seller of watermelons, and running full tilt against an Italian pedlar, creating dire confusion among his saints and madonnas; on he went, till he reached the square where a number of boys were collected playing at pitch and toss. Here Carlo made a halt for a few minutes, until seeing a piece of money similar to the one that had been stolen from him, he pounced upon it and disappeared, to the great astonishment of its owner. Carlo went directly to the butcher, gave him the money, took up the well-filled basket, and, what is not the least remarkable part of the story, he returned home by a circuitous route, by which means he avoided passing through the square, having, doubtless, reasons of his own for declining a meeting with the young gambler.

It is probable that most of my readers are acquainted with the account given of the quarrel between two French ladies for precedence. Their carriages drove into one of the narrow streets of Paris, from opposite directions; consequently, it will require no great display of logic to prove that they met in the middle. The postilion of one carriage announced the rank of his mistress, and imperiously ordered his brother of the whip to clear the way. To this the other replied by on his mission, but meeting unfortunately with some vociferating the name of his mistress, a lady of equal other dogs, a violent battle took place, in which the rank with the occupant of the other carriage, and eggs were demolished, and Jimbo arrived at home rising in his saddle, he vehemently declared that "in with the handle of the basket and a scrap of the nap-advance" was his motto, and that he would turn his

In answer to my inquiries as to the cause of these vagaries, the dairy-maid said, “I know very well what she wants, but I hate to see such pride in a dumb brute." "Why, what does she want, my good girl?" "You must know," replied the much provoked dairy-maid, "that this cow seems in a manner to domineer over all the others; she always walks first; and if any of the other cows go into the cow-house before her, she is sure to kick up this riot. I know just as well as if she opened her mouth and told me, that she wants me to turn out the other cows; and you'll see I'll have to do it, or never a foot will she stir into the cowhouse this blessed night." And so indeed it proved; for in despite of blows, caresses, and every stratagem that the unfortunate dairy-maid could think of, she continued careering about the yard, till, as a last resource, the dairy-maid turned out the other cows, on which this stickler for precedence walked majestically into the cow-house, and was immediately followed by her more meek and humble compatriots.

PLEASURE TOURS.

THE BANKS OF THE FORTH, AND STIRLING.

THIS being the stirring season of the year, let us say a few words upon what we consider as the most attractive scenery in Scotland for those who design to solace their wearied frames with a refreshing jaunt into the country. There is a great art in effecting a tour of pleasure and recreation. If a person do not be a little careful, he may throw himself away upon a dull region, interesting neither for its external cha. racter, nor for the associations connected with a former state of society.

Where are such scenes to be seen in more perfection than in Scotland ?-as is every day testified by crowds coming from afar to obtain a glimpse of its oft-sung mountains, plains, streams, lakes, and ruined fortalices. Scotland, however, is not all a field of romance. There are now vast tracts within its boun. daries so well cultivated and inclosed, and trimmed by every device of modern art, that the stranger may, as we say, throw himself away upon a scene of mere agricultural improvement-excellent, no doubt, in a political-economy point of view, but miserable for one who is looking out for lakes and waterfalls. Where, then, are we to find the "true jaunting scenery ?" This is what we are now going to mention, for the purpose of preventing mistakes, and saving a world of money in purchasing tour-books.

The romantic, visit-worthy scenery of Scotland lies principally in the middle and western division of the country. The middle is that portion lying between the Firths of Forth and Tay on the east, and the Clyde and Argyleshire on the west, being partly lowland and partly highland in name and character. The west

Nine.

ern division is on the west coast of Argyleshire, and, extending easterly along the line of the Caledonian canal to Inverness, is altogether highland. tenths of the jaunting is confined to the middle district in its widest sense. Within this division, three distinct tours may be performed; the first extending from the Forth to the Trosachs and Loch Katrine; the second including the Clyde below Glasgow, Loch Lomond, Glen Croe, Inverary, and some other scenery at the mouth of the Clyde; the third is inland, and is confined to the Clyde above Glasgow, with the falls

on that river. It should be mentioned, however, that the whole three may be agreeably performed without doubling over the ground, there being such a com.

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