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the west, which is often the case, the gales are charged with the effluvia from the city of Constantinople. Nor is the assertion true, that the Turks themselves have no idea of the infectious nature of the plague; many of them believe it to be so, and the most enlightened of them all, the Pasha of Egypt, adopts a quarantine for his own security. When the plague is at Cairo, he either retires to a garden situated about two leagues from the city, and surrounds himself by his troops, or he shuts himself up in a fortress on the other side of the Nile at Gizeh."

In the statements of the anti-contagionists, there are some instances of fraud and of folly which it is utterly astonishing that the reviewer should have overlooked. Can it be believed that the Westminister reviewers have quoted Dr Russell as an authority for the uncontagiousness of the plague, although, in point of fact, he is the greatest authority for the opposite opinion. No man ever brought to bear upon the subject such a combination of all the requisites for a right judgment about it, namely, great experience of the disease, great reading about it, and great judgment. Russell," says the Westminster Reviewer, "has recorded a fact in confirmation of the non-contagious nature of this malady, which, for the singular completeness of the proof it affords, is of extraordinary value."

"Dr

Who would not believe, from the foregoing passage, that Dr Russell, for many years physician to the British factory at Aleppo, living in the thick and thin of the plague-who, that did previously know otherwise, would not believe that he was an anti-contagionist? When I first read the above passage, it led me into this error. I have shown it to several persons, and all have acknowledged, that if they had not previously known to the contrary, it would have led them to suppose that Dr Russell was an authority for the non-contagious nature of the plague.

If this is not intentional fraud, it is a curious accident in composition, and puts me in mind of the mistakes in tradesmen's bills, which always happen to be in their own favour. Now for an instance of indisputable folly. The Westminster Reviewers, after writing two long articles to prove that the plague and all other fevers are never propagated by contagion, relate the following case.-A poor family, consisting of four persons, were attacked with malignant fever; they all lay in the same bed in an exceedingly close and dirty apartment, where they were visited by two physicians; the one, whenever he entered the room, went to the window, threw it open, observed the sick at a distance, and staid a short time he escaped the disease. The other took no precaution, examined the skin of the patients closely, and inhaled their effluvia and breath. He was seized with the disease, and died of it. This case might be supposed to be decisive of the question; but no, say they, it proves that the disease is not a contagious, but a contaminative fever. The discase, it is true, was communicated from the patient to the physician, but not by a specific contagion generated by the body of the patient, but by the exhalations from his body, rendered poisonous by being concentrated. In short, the fever was not a contagious, but a contaminative disease. It is plain, however, that it was a communicable one, and that is the practical question.

"O that such difference should be

'Twixt tweedledum and tweedledee." A pretty consolation this to a person who had been induced, by the previous argument, to expose himself without precaution to the plague, or typhus, to tell him, "True it is you have caught the plague from the patients whom you have approached, but be of good cheer, for I am happy to tell you that you are dying, not of a contagious, but of a contaminative disease.'

TO MY BIRDIE.

Here's onlie you an' me, Birdie-here's onlie you an' me! An' there you sit, you humdrum fool,

Sae mute and mopish as an owl,

Sour companie!

Sing me a little sang, Birdie-lilt up a little lay!
When folks are here, fu' fain are ye

To stun 'em wi' yere minstrelsie,

The lee lang day.

An' now we're onlie twa, Birdie-an' now we're onlie twa! "Twere sure but kind an' cozie, Birdie,

To charm wi' yere wee hurdigurdie

Dull Care awa!

Ye ken, when folks are pair'd, Birdie-ye ken, when folks are pair'd, Life's fair an' foul an' freakish weather,

An' light an' lumb'ring loads, thegither

Maun a' be shared

An' shared wi' lovin' hearts, Birdie-wi' lovin' hearts an free,
Fu' fashious loads may weel be borne,
An' roughest roads to velvet turn,

Trod cheerfully!

We've a' our cares an' crosses, Birdie-we've a' our cares and crosses !
But then, to sulk and sit sae glum—
Hout tout, what gude o' that can come

To mend ane's losses?

Ye'er clipt in wiry fence, Birdie-ye're clipt in wiry fence;

An' aiblins I-gin I mote gang

Upo' a wish-wad be, or lang,

Wi' friens far hence.

But what's a wish? ye ken, Birdie !-but what's a wish? ye ken!
Nae cantraip naig, like hers o' Fife,

Wha "darnit" wi' the auld weird wife

Flood, fell, an' fen.

'Tis true, ye're furnish'd fair, Birdie-'tis true, ye're furnish'd fair, Wi' a braw pair o' bonnie wings,

Wad lift ye, where yon lav'rock sings,

High up i' th' air.

But then that wire sae strang, Birdie-but then that wire sae strang! And I mysell, sae seemin' free,

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An' say we'd baith our wills, Birdie—we'd each our wilfu' way!
Whar lavrocks hover, falcons fly,

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An' ae thing, weel I wot, Birdie-an' ae thing, weel I wot,

There's Ane abune the highest sphere,

Wha cares for a' his creatures here,

Marks ev'ry lot

Wha guards the crowned King, Birdie-wha guards the crowned King, An' taketh heed for sic as me,

Sae little worth-an' e'en for thee,

Puir witless thing!

Sae now, let's baith cheer up, Birdie !-an' sin' we're onlie twa,

Aff han', let's ilk ane do our best

To ding that crabbit, canker'd pest,

Dull Care, awa.

C.

GRATTAN.

NUGE LITERARIÆ.

I was in the gallery of the House of Commons on the night when the late Mr Grattan made his first speech in the English Parliament. The subject was Catholic Emancipation; the question was opened by Mr Fox. I went at eight in the morning, waited at the door of the gallery, till twelve, and then had my ribs nearly broken in a squeeze to get in. The House met at four; at five Mr Fox rose; he spoke till after eight in a way which I need not describe. He was followed by Mr Percival, then by Dr Duigenan, and then Mr Grattan rose. It was a striking sight and moment. The lower part of the House was crammed with Members, so that numbers could find room only in the upper side galleries. The fame of his eloquence had raised great expectations, yet repeated instances of the failure of Irish_eloquence, when transplanted into England, caused considerable anxiety, especially among the Irish, of whom there were numbers in the Strangers' Gallery, and still more at the outer door, waiting to hear the success of their champion. After a pause of dead silence he began. He was dressed if my eyes did not deceive me, in black, with yellow gloves-his queer person his large red face, his limbs thrown about in a most rapid and graceless way-his pronunciation, which to my ear sounded less like the brogue of an Irishman, than like the broken English of a foreigner-his plunging headlong into his subject without any of the introductory remarks which are so common in English oratory, and his epigrammatic sentences, altogether produced a sensation so totally new to the English House of Commons, that for many minutes it was doubtful, among the best judges of Parliamentary eloquence, whether it would not terminate in a complete failure. During this interval of suspense, I have heard on good authority the following incident. Mr Pitt, who was sitting next Mr Canning, manifested the greatest possible anxiety; he seemed to shrink every now and then when the effect of what was said bordered on the offensive: but a few minutes passed-Grattan became accus

NO. I.

tomed to the House, the House to him -the orator, though singular, became successful and brilliant in the highest degree; and at the moment when it was plain that all was safe, Mr Pitt turned round to Mr Canning, and clapping him on the knee, and with a strong expression of delight in his countenance, exclaimed, "It will do !" He was too great himself to be jealous of another, even of one who was to be his political opponent.

DUKE OF WELLINGTON.

I have heard Lord Wellesley talk about his brother, the Duke of Wellington-about his military career, and about the peculiarities of mind which led to his splendid successes, and enabled him to conquer the conqueror of the world. He said that he was the opposite to a cunning man-that he had done all by simple manly heroism; and that he could not define his character better than by the following lines in Milton's "Samson Agonistes," which ought to be placed at the foot of his pictures :——

He all their ammunition
And feats of war defeats,
With plain heroic magnitude of mind.

MOST OFFENSIVE OF MONUMENTS.

Passing through Brussels on my way to the Rhine, we of course paid a visit to the plains of Waterloo. On our way we stopped at an ugly red brick church, on the right side of the road, where there are monuments to many of the English officers who fell on this occasion. We were conducted by a grey-haired old man into the chapel, and there, on both sides along the walls are inscriptions to the memory, of not single individuals, but whole companies. The thought that this splendid victory was purchased by the lives of so many in the flower of their age, full of life, and joy, and heroism oppresses the heart. With this mournful feeling we left the chapel, and were conducted through a dirty lane into a little shabby garden, to see a large black stone, sacred to the memory of whom ?-the Marquis of Anglesea's leg-I had almost written his toe. The bathos is not merely ridiculous-it is disgusting. If the

living owner of the leg did not direct it, he might have prevented it. Some one has written below

Here lies the Marquis of Anglesea's limb; The devil will have the remainder of him.

AMBERGRIS.

The origin of this substance is involved in complete obscurity. All that we know of it is, that it is most commonly found in lumps floating on the ocean, sometimes adhering to rocks, sometimes in the stomachs of fishbut whence does it come? by what process is it formed? Everybody knows the history of that greasy substance called Adipocire-that on digging up the bodies in the cemetery of St Innocent's at Paris, many of them were found in part converted into a substance resembling spermaceti; and that it has since been ascertained, that if the flesh of animals, instead of undergoing putrefaction in air, undergoes the slower changes which take place under water, in a running stream, it is gradually converted into this substance. It is not an improbable conjecture, that Ambergris is the flesh of dead fish which has undergone this changethat is marine adipocire. And this conjecture is corroborated by a fact which was lately stated in one of the American newspapers. A marine animal of gigantic size has lately been discovered and dug up in the neighbourhood of New Orleans, in the groove of one of whose bones was found a matter closely resembling Ambergris. This animal, which is supposed to be extinct,

had been buried for an incalculable time.

THE PLAGUE.

During the great Plague in London, in 1665, Dr Hodges was one of the persons appointed by the College of Physicians to visit the sick. The great Sydenham quitted London to avoid the contagion, but at length returned, apparently ashamed of his cowardice. Many physicians volunteered their services on this occasion: among those was the celebrated Dr Glisson. Out of the number employed in this benevolent task, nine perished. Hodges survived, and has given the following account of the means by which he believes he preserved himself from the infection. As we shall most likely have the Plague in Eng

land-thanks to the wrong-headedness of some of our physicians, and the supineness of others-it is worth while knowing the means which he employed. "As soon as I rose in the morning early, I took the quantity of a nutmeg of the anti-pestilential electuary; then, after the dispatch of private concerns in my family, I ventured into a large room, where crowds of citizens used to be in waiting for me, and there I commonly spent two or three hours, as in an hospital, examining the several conditions and circumstances of all who came thither, some of which had ulcers yet uncured, and others to be advised under the first symptoms of seizure; all which I endeavoured to dispatch, with all possible care to their various exigencies. As soon as this crowd could be discharged, I judged it not proper to go abroad fasting, and therefore got my breakfast; after which, till dinner time, I visited the sick at their houses; whereupon, entering their houses, I immediately had burnt some proper thing upon coals, and also kept in my mouth some lozenges all the while I was examining them. But they are in a mistake who report that physicians used on such occasions very hot things, as myrrh, zedoary, angelica, ginger, &c. for many, deceived thereby, raised inflammations upon their tonsils, and greatly endangered their lungs. I further took care not to go into the rooms of the sick when I sweated, or was short-breathed with walking, and kept my mind as composed as possible, being sufficiently warned by such who had greviously suffered by uneasiness in that respect. After some hours visiting in this manner, I returned home. Before dinner, I always drank a glass of sack to warm the stomach, refresh the spirits, and dissipate any beginning lodgement of the infection. I chose meats for my table that yielded an easie and generous nourishment, roasted before boiled, and pickles not only suitable to the meats, but the nature of the distemper (and, indeed, in this melancholy time, the city greatly abounded with variety of all good things of that nature). I seldom, likewise, rose from dinner without drinking more wine. After this, I had always many persons who came for advice; and, as soon as I could dispatch them, I again visited till eight or nine at night, and then

concluded the evening at home, by drinking to cheerfulness of my old favourite liquor, which encouraged sleep, and an easie breathing through the pores all night. But if in the daytime I found the least approaches of the infection upon me, as by giddiness, loathing at stomach, and faintness, I immediately had recourse to a glass of this wine, which easily drove these beginning disorders away by transpiration. Yet in the whole course of the infection, I found myself ill but twice, but was soon again cleared of its approaches by these means, and the help of such antidotes as I kept always by me." In another part of his history of the Plague, he gives the following extraordinary account. Speaking of the nurses who attended the sick, he adds, "These wretches, out of greediness to plunder the dead, would strangle their patients, and charge it to the distemper in their throats; others would secretly convey the pestilential taint from sores of the infected to those who were well. The case of a worthy citizen was very remarkable, who, being suspected dying by his nurse, was beforehand stripped by her; but recovering again, he came a second time into the world naked." (Loimologia, or an Account of the Plague in London, in 1665, by Nath. Hodges, M.D.)

THE DEVIL'S WALK.

There are two kinds of plagiarisms. In one the thought is borrowed, but it is clothed in new words, is adapted to its new situation, and undergoes more or less of transmutation. This is a kind of plagiarism which, in the present stage of literature, is and ought to be practised, by men of the greatest genius. Milton describes himself as preparing for the composition of his great poem, among other things, by "select and attentive reading." But there is another kind of plagiarism, which consists in borrowing not only the thoughts, but the very words in which they are expressed-stealing whole pages from writers of eminence, not only without inverted commas, but without the slightest hint that it is borrowed from any one. I had no notion, till lately, that this mode of writing with the eye and scissars, instead of the mind and pen, was so common as it is. I have found, in works of some celebrity and extensive

circulation, long portions copied from works that are little read, or translated literally from foreign writers. Being at a dinner party one day, and sitting next an author in whose writings I had repeatedly detected this wholesale plagiarism, I mentioned the subject in general terms; and then turning to him, said, "But perhaps the wonder is not that authors should practise this mode of writing, but that I should wonder at it;" on which he looked impudently at me, and said he believed so. I have met with some ridiculous instances of this practice. Being led by an advertisement in the newspapers to look at a saddle-horse, and perceiving some remarkable differences between the description and the animal, I mentioned it to his owner, who coolly told me, that not being able to write an advertisement himself, he had copied one from an old newspaper which seemed something like.

When the process of hatching chickens by steam was exhibited at the Egyptian Hall, a little sixpenny pamphlet, descriptive of the progressive growth of the chick in the egg, was sold at the door. It professed to be the composition of Mr-What's his Name ?-the inventor of the process; but the truth is, that it was extracted verbatim from the English copy of "The Exercitations on Generation, by Wm. Harvey," the discoverer of the circulation. But the best of the joke was this after describing the cicatricula, that is the little white spot near the blunt end of the yolk, where the first signs of life are seen, Harvey says, "and yet this first principle of the egg was never yet, to my knowledge, observed by any man.' (Page 82, A.D. 1653.) By an absurd blunder of the person who extracted the descriptions, this passage is preserved, so that Mr -, of the Egyptian Hall, claims the discovery of the use of the cicatricula. But although there may be some excuse for hack compilers and ignorant horse-jockeys, there is none for writers of first-rate genius. And yet even these will sometimes stoop to similar acts of literary dishonesty. Lord Kames produced the beautiful parable on persecution as an original composition of Franklin's. Franklin, during his lifetime, permitted it to circulate as such, and it is still inserted as his own in his collected works; yet it is stolen from the last page of Jeremy

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