tained in this work, representing the posture to which the patient was confined for twelve days, is given by Mr Carpue, and "will assist the reader," as he well observes, "in appreciating the patience of those who submitted to the Italian method." After the death of Taliacotius, which happened in 1599, the operation was occasionally practised by his disciple, John Baptist Cortesi, who tells us, " that by the assistance of God, he had made such proficiency in the art, as to repair not a few noses, both in Sicily and other places." But it soon fell into disuse in Italy, in a great measure perhaps for want of opportunities, nor does it appear to have been practised at all beyond the confines of Italy, even in the time of Taliacotius, except in a single instance at Lausanne, which is menSome later writers tioned by Hildanus. been investigated, it was discovered, that at the union of small parts of the skin, after complete separation and in circumstances not the most favourable. And there are sever al well attested instances of the successful reunion of divided parts, in modern times, one of which at least, is quite equal to the accounts extracted above. It was published at Edinburgh in 1814, by Dr W. Balfour and is thus quoted by our author. On the 10th day of June in the year 1814, two men came into my shop about eleven o'clock, foreOur author further remarks, that the doc- noon; one of whom, George Pedie, a house carpenter, had a handkerchief wrapped round his left trines of Taliacotius have been coupled hand, from which blood was dropping slowly. with certain accounts of the reunion of Upon uncovering the hand, I found one half of the divided parts, which were current in the index (fore finger) wanting. I asked him what had had never looked for it, but believed it would be beginning of the seventeenth century, with become of the amputated part. He told me he the truth or falsehood of which, in reality, found where the accident happened. I immediately despatched Thomas Robertson, the man that acthey had nothing to do. A remarkable story of this kind is quot-companied the patient, to search for and bring the have treated the operation either as alto-ed by Mr Carpue, from Fioravanti's "Se-piece. During his absence I examined the wound, gether fabulous, or, if practicable, too cruel to be attempted. Mr Carpue considers the coldness of the climate north of Italy an obstacle to its success, and a cause of its rejection. He states as a reason for the ridicule, which has been directed against the doctrines of Taliacotius, that they have been usually confounded with those of the Sympathetic Doctors, who flourished soon after his time. Whether these reformers really understood the theory of their own cures is uncertain. Probably like many charlatans of the same period they imposed upon themselves, as well as their patients. Their practice, as it regarded the wound itself, was exactly that of the present day in similar cases. They brought its edges together and retained them steadily in that position by means of strips of some adhesive plaster. They never removed the dressings till the wound was healed, which, as is now well known, happens under such circumstances within a short period, a few days, or when the wound is small, a few hours. But as this alone would have been a great deal too simple either for the doctors or their patients, they carefully applied their balsams, styptics, or ointments to the axe or sword which had inflicted the wound, with which they supposed it to have a certain sympathy This doctrine of the sympathies and antipathies of different objects in nature, they carried to an absurd length, and their writings abound with marvellous fables in support of it. There is a story, which may illustrate this notion, in Van Helmont, whose works, with those of Robert Fludd, and not those of Taliacotius, are referred to in the satirical lines which have been probably suggested to most of our readers by the title of this article. The story from Van Helmont is as follows: A gentleman of Brussels, who had lost his nose in battle, repaired to Tagliacozzo, a surgeon of Bologna, to have his nose restored; and as he dreaded to have the incision made in his own arm, a labouring man was found, who, for a remuneration, About suffered the nose to be taken from his arm. thirteen months after his return to Brussels, the adscititious nose suddenly became cold, and after a few days dropped off in a state of putrefaction. The cause of this unexpected occurrence having crets of Surgery," and one still more extra- and found that it began near the upper end of the about half an inch lower on the opposite side. The second phalanx on the thumb side, and terminated amputated piece, as measured by the patient himself, was an inch and a half long on the thumb side, The wound was inflictand an inch on the other. ed in the cleanest manner, by one stroke of a hatchet, and terminated in an acute point. In about five minutes, as nearly as I can guess, Robertson returned with the piece of finger, which was white and cold; and I remarked to Dr Reid, who was present, that it looked like a bit of candle. Without the loss of a moment, I poured a stream of cold water on both wounded surfaces, to wash away the blood from the one, and any dirt, which might be adhering, from the other. I then applied, with as much accuracy as possible, the wounded surfaces to each other, expressing a confident expectation that reunion would take place. *** On the 12th (two days after), patient, under the influence of the ridicule of his acquaintances for giving the least credit to my assurances, applied to another practitioner. This gentleman represented the impropriety of any other person meddling with the case. But prepossessed with the belief that he carried about a piece of dead matter only, tied to the stump of his finger, the man insisted on having the bandages removed, which was done accordingly. Thus were nearly rendered abortive my attempts at the reunion of the parts, and the profession deprived of a fact, which, as demonstrating the wonderful. Before the natural aptitude of divided powers of Nature to repair injuries, is inferior to parts to unite was well understood, these none in the annals of the healing art. But, fortuearly interference to defeat her purpose. and similar stories were regarded as ridicu-nately, Nature had been too busy for even this But experience has taught sion had already taken place. *** I saw the palous fictions. modern physiologists, that such accounts tient on the 4th of July, when the reunion of the are by no means so improbable. It is now parts was complete. The finger in fact is the well known that small parts, as lips and handsomest the man has, and has recovered both ears, which have been so nearly divided heat and sensation. from the trunk as to remain hanging only by a small slip, will frequently unite again, When, in addition to this relation, we if replaced and retained in exact contact, for a few days. It has also been satisfac- consider that the accident mentioned by torily shown that certain parts of brute Fioravanti, happened in the warm and dry animals will unite with the same, or even climate of Africa, in which wounds of all other animals. Thus the spur of a cock kinds heal with a rapidity altogether astoncan be made to grow on his comb, or upon ishing to a surgeon accustomed to the gradthe leg of a hen. Mr John Hunter suc- ual processes of Nature in more northern Iceeded in making a human tooth unite regions, we shall be inclined to regard his with the comb of a cock. Some physiolo- account as very well worthy of credit. In gists have still doubted, however, whether the mean time, we recommend to our reada part of the human body can be restored ers, in case of any accidental amputation after it has been entirely separated; but of small parts of the body, to preserve the we think unreasonably, even if the trans- divided part, since the attempt to unite it plantation of teeth be set aside, as not cannot possibly do any harm, and if sucbeing a sufficient proof of a real vas-cessful will prevent a more tedious and cular union. We have witnessed the re- painful process. Adhe These circumstances are attested by affidavits of Pedie, Robertson, and Dr Reid. We come next to the consideration of the physiological principles, upon which the success of the nasal operation depends. By a law common to all animated bodies, every injury done to them gives rise to certain processes, whose ultimate tendency is to repair damage, and compensate loss. These processes are according to the nature of the subject, or the injury done to it, either simple and effectual, or violent and tedious, sometimes to a degree incompatible with the continuance of life. They are in general more successful, in proportion as the subject is lower in the scale of animation. Thus the vegetable kingdom is able to support much more severe injuries than the animal. Its powers in this respect are exemplified in the curious experiment, in which a tree is made to flourish, when entirely cut up from its roots, by first inarching, or incorporating its branches with two others, one on each side of it. They are also matters of every day experience in the common operations of grafting, girdling, &c. The lower orders of animals again, are much superior to the higher in this particular. Even those animals, which resemble man so much in their organization that they have been placed in the same zoological class, excel him in the power of supporting injuries, when unassisted by art. These compensating or defensive operations of nature, again, are more successful in proportion to the simplicity of the injury. One of the most simple is of course the mere solution of continuity, such as happens in wounds made with a clean and sharp instrument. Instinct teaches brute animals to remove the blood from wounds of this kind and keep the edges in as close contact as possible by licking them; and observation led the ancient surgeons to a similar process. They washed the wound and retained it carefully closed till nature had accomplished the adhesion, and this they termed the "union by the first intention." In cases where the edges, on account of their lacerated, or contused state, or from considerable loss of substance, cannot be placed in exact contact the healing process is different. A number of minute fleshy bodies, or, as they are now called, granulations, sprout from every part of the surface of the wound, which increasing and uniting, fill up the spaces between its edges. The original amount of space is also much diminished by the tendency of those granulations to contract after they have united with each other, and thus draw together the divided parts from which they originate. This may serve as a sketch of the manner in which "union by the second intention" is accomplished. The false philosophy of the middle ages, whose uniform tendency was to make men think on all subjects and act on all occasions as absurdly as possible, induced the surgeons of those days to obstruct the simple adhesion of wounds by ointments and balsams, and compel nature to have recourse to her dernier resort of granulation. Of the restoration of the proper practice in such cases we have spoken above; of the extent of the improvements in surgery which have result- | fifteen minutes. It was painful during that On the third day I took off the dressings. It will be supposed, that I felt exceedingly anxious on this occasion, for though I had every reason to expect adhesion, it was possible that it had not taken place. satisfaction to hear the officer, before alluded to, The parts however adhered; and had the high exclaim, from the foot of the bed, "My G-d, there is a nose!" Adhesion, agreeably with my most sanguine hopes, had taken place in every part; and the nose was of the same colour with the face. Meantime it was perfectly flat, and rose and fell with every inspiration and expiration. This flatness was afterwards remedied by the formation of granulations within the nose. Every thing went on well till the seventh day, when the patient exercised his mouth so freely upon a favourite dish, as to endanger the loss of the organ, which he had taken such pains to acquire. The motion of his lips tore asunder small parts of the newly united surfaces. The accident, however, proved trifling. The following day he nearly fainted, from his room having been kept too warm-" the face lost its colour, and the nose with it," but both were revivified by proper ventilation. On the ninth day, the nose became dropsical, and swelled to an alarming size, but this afterwards gradually disappeared. Some months after, it was beautified by some additional dissection. The scar in the forehead was reduced, by the contraction of the granulations, to an inconsiderable extent. Our author adds, in conclusion, that the nose was improving every day, and if his annexed plate is a correct representation, we must admit, that it was already very respectable. It is to the credit of the operation that the subject in neither of the following instances was the most favorable. The first was an officer in his Britannic Majesty's army. The loss had been caused by the injudicious use, or more properly, abuse of mercury, which had been exhibited for the cure of an affection of the liver. 'He had lost "the whole front of the nose, a small portion of the alæ, or sides of the nostrils, excepted. The nasal bones were entire. Mr Carpue of course had some hesitation at first about performing the operation in a case of this kind; but after satisfying himself, by a few incisions, about the remaining sides, that the parts were then tolerably healthy, he made the necessary preparations, and on the 23d of October, 1814, performed the operation. We shall abridge his account of it, omitting those details, which are interesting only to the professional reader. A model of the intended nose was first made with a thin sheet of wax. This, after being flattened, was applied to the forehead of the patient, and the outline drawn round it on the skin with red paint. The figure thus described, nearly resembled, The second operation was performed at as appears by an annexed plate, that of the the request of his Royal Highness, the ace of spades on a playing-card, turned Prince Regent, upon an officer who had upside down, the point, or apex, of the fig-lost a part of his cheek and nose, as well ure being placed between the eyes. The as an arm, at the battle of Albuera, in portion of skin, thus marked out, was then dissected off from the forehead, leaving only a small slip of it still attached at the root of the nose. It was then twisted round, folded down, and its edges inserted into incisions previously made at the bottom and on each side of the remains of the former nose, and confined in that position. The twist was necessary in order that the surface of the skin, which had been external in its natural situation on the forehead, should still continue so in its new location. The nostrils were distended with lint, and the edges of the wound in the forehead brought as near as possible together, by strips of sticking plaster. The whole operation, excepting the application of some bandages, &c. was completed in exactly Spain, while rescuing one of the colours of his regiment from the enemy. It differed somewhat from the former in particulars, which it is not necessary to notice in a work of this kind. Considerable difficulty arose from the loss of substance from the cheek, but this was surmounted, and the final result appears to have been satisfactory. We think Mr Carpue entitled to much credit for his enterprise in attempting, and diligence and zeal in conducting to a successful termination, these singular operations. It is not likely that they will ever be very common in civilized Europe or America, but as serving to illustrate the extent of the compensating powers of nature, they may, notwithstanding, be as use Note.-Since the above was written the nasal operation has been successfully performed by Dr S. Hurd of Charlestown, Massachusetts. Sayings and Doings. A Series of Sketches from Life. Philadelphia, 1824. 2 vols. 12mo. ful in a practical, as they are curious in a gyman,-the knavish attorney, the trusted | it is difficult for us to conceive of a man's "friend of the family," in his intercourse being forever unfortunate in all situations, physiological point of view. with the son, encourages the attachment, without suspecting him of some want of and even urges him to attempt an elope- foresight, or prudence, or decision; and it ment; whilst in his letters to the father, is next to impossible for an author so to he does all in his power to fan the prejudi- direct the conduct of his hero, that he shall ces, the latter had conceived against the always be passing from vexation to vexaConnexion, most grossly misrepresenting tion, from disappointment to disappointment, the clergyman, as selfish and designing, and without betraying in that conduct, traits his daughter as gross and vulgar. Divers of character which tend to diminish our reand heart-rending are the crosses and dis- spect for the hero himself; and of course, THIS work consists of four different tales, appointments thus thrown in the way of our our sympathy in his fate. each intended as a sort of practical commen- lovers, by the pride aud passion of one fa- The book terminates with "Martha, the tary on some common proverb. Hence the ther, and the delicacy of the other, It Gypsey," a very short, but well narrated name of the book. "Sayings" are attempt-happens, however, that the nobleman acci- tale of superstition. We should hardly ed to be illustrated by "doings,"-proverbs dentally becomes acquainted with the cler-think of resorting to fictions of this sort, by experience," wise saws" by "modern gyman and his daughter-he, meanwhile, which do not even pretend to describe the instances." We do not think this mode of being unknown to them. He finds that his ordinary and natural course of human choosing a text to be explained, or a cer- son is not so very wrong in his judgment, events, for the purpose of illustrating those tain point to be proved, the best calculated and opens his eyes to the falsehoods of the common maxims, which are supposed to be in the world, for a free, unshackled display attorney. This leads to proper investiga- the result of long observation of the world, of the genius of a writer of novels and tions-all the knavery of this smooth, in- as actually, and in matter of fact it exists. tales. The author before us, however, has sinuating friend of the family is brought to Nor do we see very distinctly how the advery wisely taken care not to subject him- light; and probatum est, that "All is not ventures or achievements of Martha, the self to much restraint by his plan. He gold, which glitters." Gypsey, prove the truth of the maxim, "Seedoes not obtrude his proverb on us in the The next story is called "Merton," ing is believing." The author assures us course of the narrative, but goes on to tell which is the longest, and we suspect was he received this information from an eyehis story in a most amusing manner, and considered by the author, his best effort. witness of the fact. That friend might when he has done, he gives us, in the last ""Twixt cup and lip there is many a slip," have maintained that "Seeing is believing," line or sentence, some good old saw, print- is the text to be enforced. The author's-but the author and his readers may with ed in small capitals, which the reader spirited manner of writing is perhaps more equal propriety allege that "hearing and thereby perceives to be the end and moral of fully displayed here, than in any one of his reading of a fact, is not seeing it." We do what he has been reading. Without the tales. We are not sure, however, that not, however, mean to condemn tales of concluding paragraph of each tale, and the some more fastidious readers, will not be this sort. They have their interest; if information given in the general preface of reminded of another of the wise saws, about well conceived and powerfully told, they the book, it might not, perhaps, have been which he has just read, viz. "that too much must have their interest. We may reason easy to discover that the author's plan was of a good thing is good for nothing." There with ourselves about their improbability, such as it is:-and this we consider so much is a little, little too much of the same sort and convince ourselves by dint of argument, in his praise. of incidents. Merton, the hero, is ever and that, in point of fact, the affairs of this world anon on the point of tasting the extreme are not influenced by beings of another of happiness, when the cup slips, he is state, or by those of our own state endowed precipitated to the depths of misery; from with different powers from the rest of us; which again he is no less unexpectedly re- yet that such things may be-that they lieved. At one moment he is half married are possible-that we see nothing to preto the girl of his heart,—who had consent-vent their happening—this will be enough ed to run away with him,-when the cere- to secure an interest for tales of this sort, mony is interrupted by the unlucky arrival of the mother of the runaway lady, and a posse of relatives; then, he is within an ace of being hanged for murder, and the rope is tied about his neck, when Jack Ketch is disappointed of the rest of his work, by a The next story, called "The Friend of person's galloping up to the foot of the galthe Family," is, in its structure and charac- lows, who turns out to be the very individters, much more in the common, not to say ual suspected to be murdered. Now we hackneyed, style of novel writing, than the attend our hero to Newgate for debt;-and last mentioned. We do not know, however, presently we are with him in the supposed that the mass of novel readers will not con- possession of seven thousand a year, and sider it as interesting as any in the book. driving to Paris in his own coach and four; A proud nobleman, with his amiable son, and then again it is discovered that this (the hero of the tale), a pious and exempla- comfortable fortune had been paid to him ry country clergyman, with his charming through a mistake of the person, or rather daughter (the heroine), and an attorney through a mistake of his relationship to the tales of ancient dames, or frightened children, (the agent of the aforesaid nobleman, and testator, and that in fact, it was all intend-touching such matters: but when I breathe the air, "the Friend of the Family)," which attor-ed for a half-brother, whose existence Mer- and see the grass grow under my feet, I cannot ney, like all other attorneys in novels, is ton has now the pleasure of discovering for but feel that He who gives me power to inhale the plausible, cunning, shrewd, and knavish--the first time in his life. We doubt, that one, or stand erect upon the other, has also the power to use, for special purposes, such means and these constitute the dramatis persona; these extreme vibrations are too often re- agency as he, in his wisdom, may see fit; and and they are set to work to prove the truth peated. When we see a man thus continu- which, in point of fact, are not more incomprehenof the proverb, "All is not gold which ally the football of fortune, our sympathy sible to us, than the very simplest effects which we glitters. The amiable son of the proud must needs grow fainter, and in spite of every day witness, arising from unknown causes. Philosophers may pore, and in the might of their ourselves, we often feel a lurking disposi- littleness, and the erudition of their ignorance, detion to laugh at his mishaps. The fact is,velope and disclose, argue and discuss; but when The first story in the book is called "Danvers;" and it seems to us to possess more of the characteristics of a Tale (properly so called), than any one in the book. It gives a very animated, bold, and true picture of an amiable and happy family, suddenly raised from competency to vast wealth; and of the disappointments, the cares, the vexation, the jealousies, the new passions and desires, produced by the change. The maxim hereby illustrated, is that "Too much of a good thing is good for nothing." nobleman has, of course, fallen in love with the charming daughter of the worthy cler when the world shall have gone on analyzing and philosophizing for many a century more. But we will avail ourselves of the incidental mention of this subject, to give a single passage from our author, as containing his own defence of "Martha, the Gypsey," and as affording an imperfect idea of the lively and forcible manner in which he is often wont to speculate. It is, I find, right and judicious most carefully and publicly, to disavow a belief in supernatural visitings; but it will be long before I become either so wise or so bold as to make any such unqualified declaration. I am not weak enough to imagine myself surrounded by spirits and phantoms, or jostling through a crowd of spectres, as I walk the streets; neither do I give credence to all the idle the sage, who sneers at the possibility of ghosts, think,-perhaps because it is now with us, flash rent asunder the dark mass;-and the will explain to me the doctrine of attraction and that Summer is almost equally deserving angry voice of thunder calls from cloud to gravitation, or tell me why the wind blows, why of grateful notice. Spring is the season of cloud, from hill to hill, from heaven to the tides ebb and flow, or why the light shines-effects perceptible by all men-then will I admit the promise, but the fulfilment comes with Sum-earth, as if to bid man be still, and gaze justice of his incredulity-then will I join the ranks mer; and this point of difference between with silent reverence, while He who rides of the incredulous. However, a truce with my the seasons I certainly regard as altogether upon the whirlwind passes by. views and reflections: proceed we to the narrative. to the advantage of Summer. I do not for- We have, to be sure, some days of such The author tells us in his preface, that get that the world thinks, or pretends to fierce and exhausting heat, that all sense if encouraged by the success of this effort, think, that anticipation always promises of enjoyment or of action, is lost in univerhe shall probably furnish us with more profusely, while the actual good is a sad sal debility, if not in pain; these days are works of the same sort. We have no doubt niggard in redeeming her word; but, nei- uncomfortable enough, I grant, and it somehis reception by the public will be suffi- ther do I forget, that I have all the right, times happens that even the shadows of ciently flattering to secure the fulfilment of which my own experience can give, to be- night appear to take away only the light of this conditional pledge; and that we shall lieve there are more instances of exception day, and leave its burning heat. But such be furnished with more "Sayings and Do- to this rule, than of conformity with it; days come very seldom, and when they do ings." We shall be the last to regret this, therefore I love enjoyment better than an- they are much less disagreeable,—at least to for, notwithstanding the faults in the struc- ticipation,-Summer better than Spring. me, than those chilly, misty, blue-devil ture of some of his stories to which we have "The earliest offspring of the year" comes days of Spring, which are perpetually realluded, we look upon the author as a arrayed in a garniture of rich blossoms, of curring, to shake the leaves from the trees, spirited, animated, and correct writer,-as beauty as various and brilliant, as if the and pinch to death every bud of promise, a man of sense, and at the same time, one rainbow had crumbled and fallen, and sow- and turn one's face ten times more blue of good wit,—and above all, as one who has ed itself as seed in the earth; her tresses than the damp sky, and, which is worst of actually seen, studied, and learned the are wreathed with flowers of all hues and all, almost make one despair of Summer. world, especially those classes in its society forms, her breath is a mingling of odorous In short, I think the Spring may well be which he undertakes to describe. sweets, and her pathway over the fields is compared to a budding rose-bush ;-beautimarked by the upspringing of their love- ful, very beautiful indeed;—but we are perliest ornaments. But Summer has her petually looking to see this beauty expand flowers too, and with them she has her into perfection, and we now and then find fruits; her airs move as gently, and bring our fingers pricked unexpectedly with stinga freshness far more welcome; they sigh ing thorns; while Summer is rather an through her laden trees, and play with the orange-tree in full bloom and bearing. fluttering petals of her full blown roses, The blossoms, which we could almost think and bear away a perfume that is yet more woven of a snow-wreath, exhale delicious delightful, because with it there is a cool- fragrance, and cluster round more delicious ness that tempers the fervour of her sun. fruit; and we gladly forgive the rich perfume, even if it happens to breathe upon us with sickening intensity. MISCELLANY. SUMMER. THE Successive changes of the year are generally regarded by periodical essayists, as themes well calculated to interest their readers; indeed, in most literary journals which do not strictly confine themselves to what are called,-sometimes by a sad misnomer, reviews, such subjects recur almost as regularly as the seasons. Nor is this at all surprising; let these descants be sung as often as they may, the theme can neither be trite, nor seem to be so, if he who has chosen it, aims only at the portraiture of his own feelings, and the simple expression of those thoughts, which the changes in the world without, and the world within him, naturally excite. But I love the Summer not for those charms only, which she has in common with the Spring; she has others which are wholly her own. It is not until the warmer months have come, and the fervours of the sun are fully disclosed, that we learn to appreciate fairly, and fully to enjoy the morning and evening coolness. A beautiful Spring day contrasts its animating glow with the coldness of the night; Winter seems to linger in the darkness, because the hours of sunshine are yet too few and The Spring is of all others the favorite feeble wholly to overcome his influence. theme of song; most writers of imagina- But when Summer is established, the breath tion or sentiment, have, in one form or an- of morning only invigorates and prepares other, endeavoured to paint its various beau- for a day of not unpleasant languor; and ty, and speak of the influence of peace and the renovating coolness of evening brings joy, which every heart then receives with with it positive delight. We have few days glad welcome, if it ever opens to any emo- of intense heat; but be it as hot as it will, tions that do not belong to the lowest parts I do not know many things more pleasant, of our animal nature. There is indeed in than to lie upon the green sward, where this season of universal renovation, when the unmitigated ardours of the sun have all the beings that people earth and air, and not yet fallen, and listen to the cooling muall that is given them for food or habitations, sic of the rippling brook, and lazily watch awaken at once into life and loveliness; the dancing leaves as they play fully toss the when the fields put on their robes of beauty, and the gentle breezes are redolent of perfume and melody and vernal freshness, and all created existence seems to sing its song of thankfulness and hope,-there comes indeed, with this season of beauty and promise to most persons, a momentary sense of undoubting and shadowless peace, a clearness and tranquillity of spirit, and, if I may so speak, an opening into flower, of joys and hopes we knew not of,-that the heart may feel deeply, but language cannot adequately express. Still, I cannot but I have rather spoken with reference to that division of the seasons which we have taken by descent, but which is wholly inapplicable here. It became established in England, and there has some foundation in nature. There, Winter does not fairly set in until December, and by March, the Spring has begun to clothe the vegetable world with living green. The heats of the Summer have fled by September, and mild Autumn gives ample leisure for harvesting the fruits of fields or groves. Very different from all this, is the course of our seasons. The vegetable world is smitten with universal death, quite as early as November, and the frosts and storms of Winter begin. April hardly dissolves her icy chains, and so long does "Winter linger in the lap of Spring," we need the fires and clothes, and all the appliances of January, quite into May. We have inherited the proverb, that "April showers bring May flowers," but our April showers are occasunbeams from one to the other, and down sionally made of snow, and our May flowto the still fresh grass. We have too, iners are neither the sweetest nor the brightSummer, those showers, than which there est. We have, indeed, but one month of is nothing more beautiful or sublime. Right pure Spring; beautiful June. July, Auwell do I love to see the distant clouds roll their black volumes together, and hang their gold and purple skirts around the horizon in all wild and graceful forms, as if to decorate with fitting tapestry, the arch of heaven. The heavy rain comes slowly until the fire bursts from its dwelling, and then falls in torrents, as if the imprisoned waters had escaped, when the lightning gust, and September, are clearly Summer months, for they have all the attributes, good and bad, which were ever thought to belong to Summer. We have, therefore, nothing left for Autumn, but October, and though we may sometimes add a little of September or of November, we quite as often find our dog days united to the Winter's snows by no better Autumn than can be made out of a string of cold days and colder showers. Still, I like our climate; "with all thy faults, I love thee still." Our seasons are apt to have a pretty decided character; our Winter is, to be sure, rather long and severe, but it gives infinite zest to the comfort of a good fire shining upon the bright faces of our best friends. Of the Spring and Summer I have said enough; and as to Autumn, who will deny that some of our October days yield in brilliant beauty to no days of any season, in any climate. The English Spring is longer than ours, but what little we have is as good as any of theirs. We have all heard of the Frenchman, who passed a year in England, and on his return said the year consisted of three hundred and sixty-four foul days, and one doubtful. This was rather too bad; for, if we may rely upon scientific journals, they have almost as many sunshiny days as their French neighbours, though the sunshine is not quite so bright. But what their Summer occasionally is, and how they sometimes scold about it, I will tell your readers, by copying an amusing passage from a letter of Horace Walpole, which I happened to fall in with yesterday. "I perceive the deluge fell upon you before it reached us. It began here but on Monday last, and then rained near eight and forty hours without intermission. My poor hay has not a dry thread to its back. I have had a fire these three days. In short, every Summer one lives in a state of mutiny and murmur, and I have found the reason; it is because we will affect to have a Summer and we have no title to any such thing. Our Poets learnt their trade of the Romans, and so adopted the terms of their masters. They talk of shady groves, purling streams, and cooling breezes, and we get sore throats and agues by attempting to realize these visions. Master Damon writes a song, and invites Miss Chloe to enjoy the cool of the evening, and the deuce a bit have we of any such thing as a cool evening. Zephyr is a north-east wind, that makes Damon button up to the chin, and pinches Chloe's nose till it is red and blue; and then they cry, This is a bad Summer; as if we ever had any other. The best sun we have is made of Newcastle coal, and I am determined never to reckon upon any other. We ruin ourselves with inviting over foreign trees, and make our house clamber up hills to look at prospects. How our ancestors would laugh at us, who knew there was no being comfortable, unless you had a high hill before your nose, and a thick warm wood at your back! Taste is too freezing a commodity for us, and, you may depend upon it, will go out of fashion again." POETRY. SUMMER WIND. It is a sultry day; the sun has drank The dew that lay upon the morning grass, There is no rustling in the lofty elm That canopies my dwelling, and its shade X. Scarce cools me. All is silent save the faint TO S****, WEEPING. B. Why shouldst thou weep? no cause hast thou No care has marked that polished brow, Of innocence and truth. Nay, weep not while thy sun shines bright To cheer thee on thy way; Nay, weep not now-reserve thy tears, The clouds of time shall lower. When thou, alas! no more canst see When some, thy fond companions now Or some, the faithful of that band, When Memory a wavering light Sheds dimly o'er the past, And Hope no longer veils from sight The horrors of the last. Nay, weep not then-let but the ray Of heavenly peace be thine, Glorious shall be thy summer's day, Unclouded its decline. Then Memory's light, though dim, shall show While Hope her holiest ray shall throw, A LAST WISH. When breath and sense have left this clay, To whispering winds the grass shall wave. TO THE INFANT CHILDREN OF MRS *****, ABOUT TO EMBARK FOR EUROPE. Go, wingless cherubs! brighter skies, Ausonian heavens, may charm your eyes; But happier shores ye cannot find Than those ye now must leave behind. Ye dream not that the billowy sea, Sweet babes, must soon your cradle be; That the wild winds will lull your sleep, While wandering o'er the pathless deep. Yet O! there is a seraph form, Will watch ye in the midnight storm; And there's a kindly Power above, Whose arms will circle ye with love. Then, dear ones, go: though tempests rave, Still shall ye harmless skim the wave; And, floating like the Halcyon's nest, On the dread deep securely rest. June, 1824. THE PARTING. O Lady! must I part from thee? Pg. |