FOOTNOTES:[6]'Let six such Americans meet round a stove, in a bar-room, or parlour, or hotel drawing-room, of a morning—of the six, four will spit before speaking a word; one will bid good-morning first, and spit afterwards; the sixth will make a remark somewhat at length upon the weather, and, by way of compensation for extraordinary retention, spit twice or thrice.'
[6]'Let six such Americans meet round a stove, in a bar-room, or parlour, or hotel drawing-room, of a morning—of the six, four will spit before speaking a word; one will bid good-morning first, and spit afterwards; the sixth will make a remark somewhat at length upon the weather, and, by way of compensation for extraordinary retention, spit twice or thrice.'
[6]'Let six such Americans meet round a stove, in a bar-room, or parlour, or hotel drawing-room, of a morning—of the six, four will spit before speaking a word; one will bid good-morning first, and spit afterwards; the sixth will make a remark somewhat at length upon the weather, and, by way of compensation for extraordinary retention, spit twice or thrice.'
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In No. 415 of this Journal, we printed a paper with the above title, merely as one likely to excite interest, but warning the reader that we did not ourselves vouch for its statements. This caution appears to have been very necessary; for Dr Madden—the substance of whose lecture was given in the article—now declares, that 'very shortly after its delivery, he, in common with many others, detected a serious fallacy in the whole series of experiments; and that, by prosecuting his inquiry in this new direction, he ascertained that not one of the hitherto recorded experiments can be looked upon as proving the existence ofmagnetic currentsat all.' The pendulations, it seems, are caused solely by 'slight mechanical impulsions, unconsciously or half consciously conveyed to the instrument by the luckless experimentalist.'
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It is a serious mistake to suppose that sanitary arrangements are required only for London and other large cities. Few small towns or even villages are exactly what they should be as regards health. Villages, indeed, by having no jurisdiction, are in many cases far more unhealthy than populous towns. We could point out a village of a few hundred inhabitants—a pretty place to look at, at a distance—where there is much mortality among infants and others in consequence of foul gutters and bad drainage. In a small pamphlet, forming an appeal to the ratepayers of Keswick on this subject, there occur the followingobservations respecting the state of a place called Braithwaite, which we candidly believe might apply to a hundred other villages in England, and more particularly Scotland:—'The village of Braithwaite, for example, contains, in proportion to its population, more dirt, disease, and death than any decent town. It is one of the most romantic and filthy villages in England, and yet it might easily be made one of the cleanest and neatest. There are lanes, alleys, and courts in almost all small towns and villages, in which the mortality is greater far than that of our great towns; nay, in hamlets, and isolated farmhouses in this, as in many other country districts, there is often more sickness in proportion to the population than in cities; and I could point out within a circuit of a few miles, localities in which, during the last few years, scrofula, small-pox, measles, and typhus fever have left their ravages; and which, with proper care and cleanliness, might, I firmly believe, have escaped. But that disease, and especially infectious disease, haunts all ill-drained, ill-cleansed, and ill-ventilated places in both town and country, there are now few intelligent persons that require to be convinced; and the question has come to be with the well-informed part of the public, as it has long been the question with medical men—has not the time now arrived tocompelthose who harbour the filth and the contagion that carry off one-half of mankind, to expel those enemies to the human race? The innumerable statistical inquiries of the last ten years on this subject, all go to prove that dirt, squalor, close air, and stagnant water, are the causes of one-half the mortality of mankind in civilised countries. The majority of thinking people of all classes—and these, though a small minority of mankind, are the directors of every great social movement—are coming to see that we must proceed with this sanitary business at once; and that, if not by mild means, then by a little wholesome compulsion, we must oblige the owners of property haunted by death and contagion, to yield to the demands of society. If a man may not harbour a ferocious bull-dog in his alley, is he to keep a noisome ditch running at large there?—and if he may not hold a main of fighting cocks, is he to keep cholera and typhus in his house? For my part, I cannot see, if a justice of the peace can stop a man from knocking me down with a bludgeon, why he should not be authorised to interfere to save me from a typhus fever; and if he can prevent boys from endangering the lives of passengers by firing guns on the high roads, why he should not also be enabled to forbid the open sewers and other nuisances, which, if not so noisy, are even more dangerous. A railway company pays heavily for the lives and limbs of passengers sacrificed by the neglect or rashness of its officials—should not a town be equally liable for the losses caused by a public violation of the laws of health? We move slowly in this neighbourhood, disliking changes, and hold strongly, while the rest of the world is advancing, to the old ideas; yet even Wordsworth's consecration of this sentiment to Cumberland—
"Hail usages of pristine mould,And ye that guard them, mountains old!"
"Hail usages of pristine mould,And ye that guard them, mountains old!"
can scarcely apply to bad drainage and ventilation.' We should think not. There is a scandalous deficiency in the ordinary institutes of the country on this important subject of town and village cleaning!
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Sir C. Napier put down the practice of suttee, which, however, was rare in Scinde, by a process entirely characteristic; for, judging the real cause of these immolations to be the profit derived by the priests, and hearing of an intended burning, he made it known that he would stop the sacrifice. The priests said it was a religious rite which must not be meddled with—that all nations had customs which should be respected, and this was a very sacred one. The general, affecting to be struck with the argument, replied: 'Be it so. This burning of widows is your custom: prepare the funeral pile. But my nation has also a custom: When men burn women alive, we hang them, and confiscate all their property. My carpenters shall therefore erect gibbets on which to hang all concerned when the widow is consumed. Let us all act according to national customs!' No suttee took place then or afterwards.—Sir C. Napier's Administration of Scinde.
by calder campbell.
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Whentired of towns, and pining soreFor change to healthful ground,Thou turn'st from crowds—still at the coreFeeling thy heart's worst wound—When thou hast knocked at every door,Yet no admittance found:At every door where Pleasure inGlides, with a sunny grace,But which thine own bale barreth upFrom thee—then seek a placeWhere gates of stone and brass are noneTo frown thee in the face!The woods have walks, where thou mayst findA balm to salve thy grief;And in and out where waters wind,Are sources of relief,In which, if thou wilt bathe the mind,Thou'lt have no comfort brief,But peace—that falleth like the dew!For everything that shewsGod's sunshine speaketh marvels trueOf mercy and repose,And joy, in rural scenes, beyondAll that the loud world knows!Yet more, than wood or woodland rillCan give of keen delight,We glean from ocean-margins, tillThe spirit—at the sightOf all its range of changeful change—Becometh, like it, bright!Bright when the sunlight on it falls,Or grave and grand when, dark,The shadowy night lets down its pallUpon each human ark;And every surge seems but to urgeExtinction of life's spark!A change, an always active change,An everness of grace,Of grace and grandeur, takes its rangeOver the ocean's face:As in a book for thoughts men look,Thoughts in it we can trace!A thought to turn us from ourselvesAnd all our petty cares—A thought to move the spirit's loveTo God, and God's affairs;And thereby give to all that liveThe sympathy that spares—That spares our brother man from blame,And pities him when o'erHis nature come such clouds of shameAs menaced us before:God only can the sea-swell tame,The mental peace restore!Look on the ocean, then, and feelIts turmoil and its calmArouse or tranquillise thy mind—A stimulant or balm;A thundertone to make thee think,Or, gently soothing psalm!
Whentired of towns, and pining soreFor change to healthful ground,Thou turn'st from crowds—still at the coreFeeling thy heart's worst wound—When thou hast knocked at every door,Yet no admittance found:At every door where Pleasure inGlides, with a sunny grace,But which thine own bale barreth upFrom thee—then seek a placeWhere gates of stone and brass are noneTo frown thee in the face!
The woods have walks, where thou mayst findA balm to salve thy grief;And in and out where waters wind,Are sources of relief,In which, if thou wilt bathe the mind,Thou'lt have no comfort brief,But peace—that falleth like the dew!For everything that shewsGod's sunshine speaketh marvels trueOf mercy and repose,And joy, in rural scenes, beyondAll that the loud world knows!
Yet more, than wood or woodland rillCan give of keen delight,We glean from ocean-margins, tillThe spirit—at the sightOf all its range of changeful change—Becometh, like it, bright!Bright when the sunlight on it falls,Or grave and grand when, dark,The shadowy night lets down its pallUpon each human ark;And every surge seems but to urgeExtinction of life's spark!
A change, an always active change,An everness of grace,Of grace and grandeur, takes its rangeOver the ocean's face:As in a book for thoughts men look,Thoughts in it we can trace!A thought to turn us from ourselvesAnd all our petty cares—A thought to move the spirit's loveTo God, and God's affairs;And thereby give to all that liveThe sympathy that spares—
That spares our brother man from blame,And pities him when o'erHis nature come such clouds of shameAs menaced us before:God only can the sea-swell tame,The mental peace restore!Look on the ocean, then, and feelIts turmoil and its calmArouse or tranquillise thy mind—A stimulant or balm;A thundertone to make thee think,Or, gently soothing psalm!
Printed and Published by W. andR. Chambers, High Street, Edinburgh. Also sold byW.S. Orr, Amen Corner, London;D.N. Chambers, 55 West Nile Street, Glasgow; andJ. M'Glashan, 50 Upper Sackville Street, Dublin.—Advertisements for Monthly Parts are requested to be sent toMaxwell, & Co., 31 Nicholas Lane, Lombard Street, London, to whom all applications respecting their insertion must be made.