Fife clergy. This is a matter, I believe, you have pondered already; though I know not if you ever determined finally. GIVE you thanks for the stanzas of YOUNG. They are very much in the style of his Night Thoughts, though rhyme does not appear to be his chief fort. I have not thoroughly studied the waters yet; but hope, from the notion I have got with one reading, and with the help of JOHNSON, that I shall thoroughly understand it. I have no queries with which to trouble you for next letter, except what you'll find in my last weeks little quarto. Yours, &c. Query.-Why does the sense of pain make us hold in our breath forcibly? No. XX. : Mr WILLIAM SMELLIE to ****** DEAR SIR, As to snails, there is a tolerable account of them in the Spectacle de la Nature. A very handsome discourse might be made of them. They have a very peculiar method of generating; which take in the precise words of the said Spectacle. "When mutually inclined to propagation, one of them shoots a little arrow or dart at the other, which has four minute wings or sharp edges; and this dart either sticks in the other, or falls down by his side after a slight penetration. Upon this, another arrow is discharged in return at the aggressor. This pretty affray is soon adjusted, and a strict union immediately ensues. The substance of the dart or arrow resembles a piece of horn; and the reptiles are plentifully provided with these weapons at the season when the amorous engagements take VOL. I. I place*.” This grave author asserts that all snails are hermaphrodites. But, pace tantı viri, they are capable both of impregnating and of receiving impregnation from each other. The law of retaliation is the law of snails: I would therefore term all this order of animals, not hermaphrodites, because they cannot impregnate themselves as flowers do, but retaliators, because they mutually impregnate one another. O search, search diligently for one of these pretty little arrows. A propos, should not snails be called Cupids, as they wound the amorous heart with arrows? Your Sheught, in a dewy morning, is a most excellent place for the exploration of snails. The deten YOUR query about holding in the breath upon the attack or idea of pain remains to be answered. This, like all other instincts, is a very wise provision in nature. tion of the air blows up and fortifies the body against external injuries. Sit on a chair and lay your leg carelessly on a stool, and a very See this strange explication of the amatory warfare of snails more clearly and truly described in a subsequent letter, on the in formation of Professor JOHN HOPE, M. D. Referring to some dell, or hollow place, in the neighbour hood of his friends residence. small stroke will break it in twain. Apprize you of the danger,-hold in your breath, or, which is the same thing, brace the muscles of your body, and double the stroke will do you no harm. This, I am sufficiently aware, is only the effect; and I imagine the following to be the cause. Pain, or the apprehension of it, powerfully stimulates the mind instantly to use her endeavours to evade the injury. For this purpose, she propels an unusual quantity of the nervous fluid, or whatever you please to call it, towards the particular part affected, in order to strengthen the fibres and to resist the force applied. Wholly intent upon this single object, she, for a moment, neglects or suspends some of the more common functions of her economy. The natural consequence is that, the mouth being shut, the air previously existing in the lungs is allowed to remain there until the uneasy sensation which it occasions obliges her to throw it out. So wonderful are the operations of nature, that this very oversight of the sentient principle has a very beneficial effect; for, particularly if the pain exist in any part below the head, the blowing up of the lungs acts upon the nerves, in some measure, as a ligature, interrupting, in a degree, the progress of the pain to the glandulæ pinealis. In fact you'll find, if you chuse to try the experiment, that detaining the air in the lungs greatly abates and blunts the painful sensations. Again, slacken the body, or allow the air to get out, and the uneasiness will be greatly increased. Tell me if this be any way satisfactory*. THE Dean says, Praise is like ambergris; draw a little of it gently by your nose, and the odour is very agreeable; suspend your head over a great quantity, and you will be struck down with the stench. I liken praise to a rotten egg. Its colour and figure are pleasant to the eye; but open the shell, and the object becomes loathsome both to the optic and olfactory nerves. In your last letter you have not only broken the integuments, but have daubed my nose with the contents, even unto the yolk. Perhaps you'll see no manner of similitude in this simile. * The great error of the students of the Edinburgh University, in their societies for mutual improvement, long was the perpetual search for theories and hypotheses, which they mistook for science, Our young philosopher here falls into the common error of his time, and advances an ephemeral hypothesis of the day, under the idea that he was explaining the cause of a phenomenon. |