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deep well, grasped him with such adroitness and force, that he sent him headlong into the water, where, being old and feeble, he was suffocated, although he received speedy assistance.

Marville remarks, that no persons are so apt as physicians to quit their profession, and follow different walks of literature; and confirms this observation by producing a very long catalogue of men, of various nations, who have resigned the study of medicine, for that of geometry, of medals, of poetry, &c. &c. &c. He reasons upon the point, and accounts for it ingeniously enough, from the vast extent of reading through which physicians must of necessity pass, and which set before them objects much more pleasing than those of which they

are in search.

Jacques Coetier, a physician, was the only person who could keep in awe the turbulent uneven spirit of Louis IX. of France. He governed him by making a proper use of that dread of death, to which he knew the king was subject to a degree so ridiculous, that he once actually stopped a priest, who, after having prayed for the health of his body, was beginning to implore heaven for his future welfare. "Hold! hold!" eried he, "you have gone far enough for once. Never be tiresome in your address to God Almighty. Stop now, and pray for my soul another time." Coetier, thoroughly acquainted with this infirmity, used to say to him, One of these days, you will send me packing, I suppose, as I have seen you act by your other servants; but mark my words, if you do, by you will not live eight days after it." By repeating this menace, he not only kept himself in his station, but per suaded the pusillanimous king to appease him with great and valuable presents. On his part, he certainly paid great attention to the condition of his royal master's mind, which was frequently almost in a state of phrensy. To amuse him during his long indispositions, he contrived to have several rural dances performed under his cham ber-window and to make up for the king's inability to enjoy the pleasure of the chase, the ingenious physician collected cats and huge rats, and diverted his dying patient, by letting him see combats between these discordant animals.

In the sixteenth century, the Jews were looked upon to be more expert in the art of medicine than any other persons. Francis I. of France being exceedingly ill, and finding no relief from his own physicians, sent to his old rival and enemy, Charles V. for one, of the Hebrew race. The emperor sent him one who had been converted. This did not satisfy the French monarch; he applied to the court of Constantinople for an obstinate unbaptized Israelite. One such accordingly attended on him, and, by the help of asses milk, effected his cure.

It is asserted in a French book, entitled "Le Nouveau Cours de Chimie," that the discovery of the powers resident in antimony was owing to the celebrated Basilius Valentinus, who finding that it had the property of fattening pigs, tried it (heaven knows with what connexion of ideas) on a convent of monks. Unluckily, instead of improving the condition of these holy men, it killed them by dozens, whence it obtained the name of "Anti-moine." Paracelsus attempted to bring it, notwithstanding this misadventure, into credit, but he too failed, and it was not until very late times that the virtues of that very useful medicine were universally allowed.

Few medical people have acted so "Dr. Anfairly by their patients as thony Storck, aulic counsellor and chief physician to the Empress Queen," who, before he recommended the use of the meadow-saffron root (a well-known poison) to those afflicted with the dropsy and other diseases, tried it upon himself in a crude state, until he was brought to

the door of death; he then having with method of checking the poisonous quadifficulty recovered, and having found a lities of the root, by infusing it in vinegar, made another experiment on himself: and finding no evil consequences, administered the decoction with success to others.

La Mothe Le Vayer, observing that Pherecides (preceptor to Pythagoras), Anaximander, and Abaris, foretold earthquakes, asks this humorous question, "If we consider the earth as a huge animal, had not these the art of feeling its pulse, and thereby of foreseeing the convulsions it would be troubled with "

The celebrated Florentine physician, Andrea Baccio, who has been styled the Italian Radcliffe for his astonishing pe netration as to diseases, resembled that singular man, also, in the blunt method of delivering his sentiments. He was one day called to attend on a woman of quality. He went, felt her pulse, and asked her "How old she was?" She told him, “Above fourscore."-" And how long would you live?" said the cross physician, quitting her hand, and making the best of his way out of her

house.

“Your unchristian virulence against me," said a Huguenot who had been persecuted for preaching, "shall cost hundreds of people their lives." This menace brought the author into trouble; he was cited in a court of jus tice, and was charged with harbouring the most bloody designs against his fellow-subjects." I am innocent," said he, of all you lay to my account. My only meaning was, that I meant (since I could not act as a minister) to practise as a physician."

That pleasant philosopher Montaigne must be once more introduced under this head, for the sake of the whimsical consolation which he kindly offers to those afflicted with gout, gravel, rheumatism, &c." These," he says, "are symptoms of a long life, just as heat, cold, rain, and hail, are the attendants on every long journey."

Although our modern quacks take a very large range, as to the disorders which they assert their power of curing, there are yet in my possession advertisements (for which I am indebted to the original edition of the Spectator, which was first printed as a newspaper) that lay claim to the extirpation of three Complaints which now bid defiance to "tinctares," "confects," and "electuaries."

"An incomparable pleasant tincture, to restore the sense of smelling though lost for many years, a few drops of which being snuffed up the nose, infallibly cures those who have lost their smell, let it proceed from what cause soever. It admirably cures all obstructions in the olfactory or smelling nerves, comforts and strengthens the head and brains, and revives the smelling to a miracle, and perfectly cures so as to cause the person to smell as quick

and as well as any one in the world. Price 2s. 6d. a bottle; sold only at Mr. Payne's toy-shop, at the Angel and Crown, in St. Paul's Church-yard, near Cheapside, with directions."

"An admirable confect, which assuredly cures stuttering and stammering in children or grown persons, though never so bad, causing them to speak distinct and free, without any trouble impediments in the speech, or disorders or difficulty; it remedies all manner of in the voice of any kind, proceeding from what cause soever, rendering those persons capable of speaking easy and free, and with a clear voice, who before were not able to utter a sentence with

out hesitation. Its stupendous effects, in so quickly and infallibly curing stut of the voice, and difficulty in delivery tering, stammering, and all disorders of the speech, are really wonderful. Price 2s. 6d. a pot, with directions. Sold only at Mr. Osborn's toy-shop, at the Rose and Crown, under St. Dunstan's Church, Fleet-street."

"Loss of memory, or forgetfulness, certainly cured, by a grateful electuary, peculiarly adapted for that end; it strikes at the prime cause, which few apprehend, of forgetfulness, makes the head clear and easy, the spirits free, active, and undisturbed, corroborates and revives all the noble facul ties of the soul, such as thought, judgment, apprehension, reason, and memory, which last, in particular, it so strengthens, as to render that faculty exceeding quick, and good beyond imagination; thereby enabling those whose memory was before almost totally lost, to remember the minutest circumstance of their affairs, &c. to a wonder! Price 2s. 6d. a pot. Sold only at Mr. Payne's, at the Angel and Crown, in St. Paul's Church-yard, with direc

tions."

To the preceding advertisements I beg leave to add another, from the same respectable paper, which prescribes for a complaint, more certain and more palatable remedies for the which may be found at the hospitable table of the country squire, the companies' feasts of the citizens, or at the equally sociable and charitable parties in favour of hospitals, &c. at the London and City of London Taverns.

"An assured cure for leanness, which proceeds from a cause few know, but

easily removed by an unparalleled specifick tincture, which fortifies the stomach, purifies the blood, takes off fretfulness in the mind, occasions rest, and easy sleep, and as certainly disposes and causes the body to thrive and become plump and fleshy, if no manifest distemper afflicts the patients, as water will quench fire. It is also the best remedy in nature for all chronic diseases, that take their rise from bad digestion in the stomach, which this specific tincture infallibly rectifies, and thereby cures. It is pleasant to taste, and is sold only at Mr. Payne's toyshop (as before). Price 3s. 6d. a bottle, with directions."

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About sixty years since, a very worthy man, and one whose word may be relied on, went to St. James's Palace to visit one of the pages, whose apartment was two pair of stairs high. He drank tea there, took his leave, and stepping back unadvisedly (on his friend's shutting the door after him) he half slipped, and half tumbled, down a whole flight of steps, and, probably, with his head burst open a closet-door. I say probably, because the unlucky visitor was too completely stunned with the fall to know what had happened. Certain it is, that he found himself, on his recovery, sitting on the floor of a small room, and most kindly attended by a neat little old gentleman, who was carefully washing his head with a towel, and fitting, with infinite exact ness, pieces of sticking-plaster to the various cuts which the accident had conferred on the abrupt visitor's unwigged pate. For some time his sur prise kept him silent; but finding the kind physician had completed his task, and had even picked up his wig and replaced it on his battered head, he rose from the floor, and, limping towards his benefactor, was going to utter a profu sion of thanks for the succour he had

received, and inquiries into the manner of his mishap. These were, however, instantly checked by an intelligent frown, and by a significant wave of the hand towards the door of the clo set. The patient understood the hint, and retired, taking more care of his steps downwards for the remainder of the stair-case, and wondering how so much bumanity, and so much unsociableness, could dwell in the same breast. His wonder (which, like all other wonder, was connected with folly) ceased, when he found, on describing to a friend the situation of the closet, that he owed the kind assistance be had received to the first man in the kingdom, who, after having exercised the humanity of the fellow-creature, found too much of the monarch about him to support a familiar conversation with the person he had relieved.

THE SOLITARY REFLECTOR.

No. I.

"Perhaps in this neglected spot is laid Some heart once pregnant with celestial fire;

Hands, that the rod of empires might have sway'd,

Or wak'd to ecstasy the living lyre."

"Full many a gem of purest ray serene,

The dark upfathom'd caves of ocean

bear;

Full many a flower is born to blush un

soen,

And waste its sweetness on the desert air."

with its reward in this life, is an HAT merit does not always meet axiom, I am persuaded, no one will deny. The motto I have chosen for these remarks plainly shews what Gray thought of the truth-a truth so pregnant with regret.-And here let me premise, that genius is most frequently a plant of humble growth; we generally see it, like the timid violet, peeping its head from 'neath a thorn, or filling the valley with its odour: it buds, blos soms, and dies in the soil where it was produced, and the fruit is lost tó us for ever:-'tis then we vainly regret some fostering hand was not stretched forth, to transplant it to a more genial spot, where it might have been warmed with the enlivening beams of the sun, where it might have been moistened with the

* George II.

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sarly dew of morning; then we should have seen it bursting forth in superior strength, then we should have seen the splendor of its existence, then the produce would well have repaid the diligence of the transplanter, and its fragrance been more copiously diffused. How many that have charmed the woodland with their rude minstrelsy, and woke sweet Echo from her hollow caves with the simplicity of their strain, that have soothed the rustic with their artless lore?-how many, I say, that have displayed latent charms of a most vigorous Muse, had they been blessed with a liberal education, would have illumined the track they were destined to pursue, and shone with no mean lustre on the rolls af posterity.

* But knowledge to their eyes her ample

page,

Rich with the spoils of time, did ne'er

unroll:

Chill penury repress'd their noble rage, And froze the genial current of the soul."

Sometimes the ashes of the poet are reverenced, and we cannot forbear weeping at his turf; his posthumous works are in every body's hands, his praises in every one's mouth; panegyric is exhausted in bis favour, and elegics are chanted over bis remains.-Alas! praise will not warm him (he knew not what it was); our sighs will not rekindle the extinguished spark of existence, his sleep will not be the sweeter for our songs.

"Can storied urn, or animated bust,

Back to its mansion call the fleeting breath?

Can Honour's voice provoke the silent dust.

Or Flattery sooth the dull cold ear of death?"

Revert from his grave, and follow me to the lonely room, that could not confine his contemplation, that could not exclude the vigour of his imagination: -here the poet sung - here, separated from the noise and tumult of the world, he held that soothing, sacred communion with the Muse known only to few:-'twas here all his productions were penned, here at the lone hour of midnight, when the feeble taper could scarce dispel the gloom that surrounded it, he rose above the frowns of fate, and illumed the darkness with the meteor-like rays that beamed from his mind.-Unknown, and unnoticed, here he spent his days: the scanty crust

that he devoured was moistened with the tear of affliction: poverty and consumption were the only inmates of his chamber, till the hand of death closed his eyes: destitute of a friend to sooth his departing spirit, destitute of a hu man being to sympathise in his woe: the tear, dropped from the eye of pity, never rolled down his cheek, the sigh of compassion was unheard to him, the name of friend never broke upon his ear he died, and was buried, not a drop glistened on his pall, no one exclaimed, "We have lost a brother.".

Perhaps some may think this picture the effusion of Fancy, and only traced on the paper to extort the groan of remorse. Let me refer such persons to the last days of Chatterton, and I feel persuaded they will not think the colouring too strong.-The following lines, from Hayley's Essay on Epic Poetry, pourtray in the most beautiful language the death of that unfortunate and neglected youth.

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On the bare floor, with heaven-directed

eyes,

The hapless youth in speechless horror lies! The poisonous vial, by distraction drained, Rolls from his hand, in wild contortion strained;

Pale with life-wasting pangs, its dire effect, And stung to madness by the world's neg lect,

He, in abhorrence of the dangerous art, Once the dear idol of his glowing heart, Tears from his harp the vain detested wires, And in the frenzy of despair expires !"

Is not such a scene sufficient to "harrow up one's soul," to stretch every chord of the feeling heart, or so disturb the wonted tones of the mind, as to cause the most painful sensations. It is not often we read of such a case, 'tis good we do not:-but though the cry of misery may not reach our ear, though it may not pierce our heart, still, the number of unfortunates is the same, their vital wants are still unsupplied; 'tis true we do not behold the last long glance, we do not perceive the scalding tear of anguish that pensively steals down the pale cheek of merit, we do not see the last struggle, we do not hear the last groan, of expiring nature; nevertheless, the evil is undiminished, the calamity remains still to be redressed.-Here a question obtrudes itself upon our notice ; a question of some import, and most difficult to be resolved-How can a young bard, unassisted by fortune, and unaided by friends, rise from the wild of obscurity that surrounds him, to the clear atmosphere, and unsullied temperature, of the Baotian hill? He may spend his days in writing to periodical publications, and never be noticed: if he publish his works with out a patron, or not prefaced by the hand of science, is not the bantling, the offspring of unwedded imagination, driven by the hard lash of the most wanton criticism to the very depths of oblivion! the author treated as one proud and presumptuous, striving to arrogate praise which does not belong to the unfortunate, enrolling himself on the lists of Fame with the most noble competitors, a crime irreparable, an exploit never to be pardoned. Let me leave this query to some of your readers, who have invention to answer, and more ability to discuss it than myself.

In some instances, the poet of genius has been brought into notice, and his music has been most grateful to our

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Boy," but for the philanthropic soul: of a Capel Loft; and I am justified in saying, the world is as much indebted to his fostering and discriminating hand for that production, as they are to the softly flowing pen of Mr. Bloomfield. In the remains of Henry Kirke White are fine specimens of a depressed Muse struggling to burst into knowledge, and sighing for that wisdom that could not be obtained by his exertions alone: happily for him, his utmost wishes were granted: but his mind, surcharged with thought, could no longer dwell in a tabernacle of clay, and, bursting the frail bonds that confined it to earth, soared to brighter regions to string the chords of a celestial lyre.

It is a remark made by Dr. Johnson, that "the prosperous are feared, hated, and flattered; and the unfortunate avoided, pitied, and despised."-Numerous passages might be quoted from the most respectable authors, who have lamented, in language truly pathetic, and in numbers the most touching, the truth of the above melancholy hints: the following concise and energetic extract from White's Melancholy Hours may suffice:-" It is painful to reflect how many a bard now lies nameless, and forgotten in the narrow house,. who, had he been born in competence and leisure, might have usurped the laurels from the most distinguished personages in the temple of Fame. The very consciousnesss of merit itself often acts in direct opposition to a stimulus to exertions, by exciting that mournful indignation of suppositious neglect, which urges a sullen concealment of talents, and drives its possessor to that misanthropie discontent which preys on the vitals, and soon produces mortality. A sentiment like this has no doubt often actuated beings who attracted notice, perhaps, while they lived only by their singularity, and who were forgotten almost ere their parent earth had closed over their heads :-beings who lived but to mourn and to languish for what they were never destined to enjoy, and whose exalted endowments were buried with them in their graves, by the want of a little of that superfluity which

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