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that remains. There is, indeed, a melancholy pleasure in remem bering them. The old love to talk of former days, and to tell us they were better than these : there is a predilection for the scenes of childhood and youth; they recal the smiling countenance, and the careless heart: our early friends are endeared by many pleasing re. membrances : the mournful remembrance of a first love, long ago in the duft, is preferred to any present pleasure. In old age the senses decay, the memory fails, the fire of imagination is extinguished; every year invades fome faculty, we are at bel supportable to our friends, and at last a burden. The fources of enjoyment are gradually dried up; to live alway would be to survive them all.
• Human enjoyments not only fade and decay; they are often blafted in the bud or the blossom. The most of men have met with disappointment in the pursuit of some favourite object of defire. We seldom live long without something to allay our happinefs; to tell us we are men, and that man is born to trouble. Job's sad and sudden reverse of fortune is a remembrancer to the happy
Beside the real disappointments and evils of life, there are ima. ginary evils. Some have hours of deep and awful melancholy, Darkness overspreads the soul. All earthly enjoyments lose their relish. The ordinary cares of life are a burden ; even friends difplease. There is an appetite for retirement, for the lodging-place of a way-faring man in the wilderness; to fit alone, and listen to the howling wind, and see the leaves falling, and muse on the end of man. With difficulty we are dragged to the duties of life, and fulfil as an hireling our day: The soul is struggling to break through the mift of human things, to know their emptiness, to know itself, to know its large capacity for happiness, which God alone can
• There is a time of life, with every thinking person, when he looks no more forward to worldly objects of desire ; when he leaves these things behind, and meditates the evening of his day. “ Age, faid a pious old man, " age is the most busy
period of human lifes but its transactions are not with men.” Commune with your own heart on the dangers you have escaped, and the duties you have fulfilled. The season of inexperience and paffion is paft; thank Go if it has past with innocence. Think on the mercies of so long a life, and take up fongs of praise. Cultivate the fruits of the Spirit, faith, and hope, and love. These flourish in the winter of life; they are rooted in the soul; and the decay of these bodies, and the diffolution of this world, cannot destroy them; they thall soon be transplanted into the garden of God, and watered with the river of pleature, and spring up into eternal life. Every root of bitterness shall then be plucked up, and no enemy fhall low his tares any more.'
* The death of friends makes us say with Job, I would not live alway.
• Friendship sweetens life ; but the course of human affection is often interrupted, is often varied, is often embittered. In your fam ther's house the heart is at eafę a little ; it dowe out in pure and
fweet affection to your parents ; happy in their love and protection, free from pain and guilt, and the thought of to-morrow, you give yourself to joy, and think it is good to be here. The death of a patent is often the firft fad ftroke. The bright scene vanishes. Pleasure is fhut out. Your first forrow is a facred season; facred to affectionate remembrance, to devout refignation, to the faith of immortality. Sober thoughts revolve on the part you have to act. In returning to the world, you feel yourself a ftranger, and caft your cares on God, and think of heaven as your Father's house.
• Youth feldom passes without the death of a young friend. Death is brought near; for we grew up together. Many pleasing hoper are laid in duit. From the grave of a friend even the path of vir. tue appears dark and lonely.
•The happiest union on earth must be diffolved, and the love of life diffolves with it.
• Parents often survive their children, and refuse to be comforted because they are not.
• A beautiful view of Providence opens. That which conftitates our greatest felicity on earth, makes us most willing to depart. The friends of our youth have failed. Such friendships are not formed any more. Affection is gradually transferred to the world of spirits. We are ftrângers who have sojourned long in a foreign land, and have the near prospect of returning home. The hour of departure rises on the soul; for we are going to a land peopled with our fathers, and our kindred, and the friends of our youth. The heart'swells at times with the fadly pleasing remembrance of the dead. « Awake and fing, ye that sleep in duft, your dew is as the dew of herbs. At times we overpass by faith the bounds of mortality, and penetrate within the veil. Our spirits mingle with theirs.'
From this specimen, to which the strain of the subsequent sermons corresponds, the reader will see that he is not to ex, pect, in these discourses, that fashionable fing-song divinity which strews the path to Paradise with the unhallowed and forbidden flowers of guilty pleasure ; none of those
Light quirks of music, broken and uneven,
That make the soul dance on a jig to Heaven. Religion infers the most serious consideration; and any attempts to accommodate its sacred laws, to the taste of a córrupted and frivolous age, dishonour its author and degrade its tendency.
There is a difference between a temple and a theatre; between the giddy nocturnal illumination that expirės in darkness and disgust, and the chalte beam of morning that brightens to the perfect day,
The last fermon is written by a friend of the author, the Rev. Mr. Somerville, of Jedburgh. The subject is taken from I Cor. xv, and 29, a text which has puzzled commentators in every age. Mr. Somerville's explication of it is ingenious, and the improvement of the fermon very eloquent.
Art. VI. Medical Cautions, for the Confideration of Invalids, more
especially who refort to Bath. By James Makittrick Adair, M. D. Member of the Royal Medical Society, and Fellow of the College of Physicians, Edinburgh. Published for the Benefit of the General Hospi
tal at Bath. 8vo. zs. 6d. Dodley. DR. Adair is a physician at Bath, and appears to be a sensible,
dispassionate man. By his own account he is now on the verge of life; and having acquired a comfortable independence, by a practice of forty years, he thought he could not make a more grateful return than by a treatise of this kind, by way of compensation for the many profefional errors he must necessarily have committed.
The subjects here discussed are fashionable disorders; for example, hyps, nerves and bile; the dangerous effects of overcrowded rooms, regimen, diet, residence, or place of habitation, cloathing, exercise, reft, regulation of the paflions, with an inquiry into the nature of mineral waters and sea-bathing; also observations on quackery and lady doctors; and an appen. dix, containing a table of the relative digestibility of foods, with explanatory remarks.
In his essay on fashionable disorders and noctious air, he has endeavoured to counteract the impression of strong prejudice and rooted habit, by simple facts and plain reasoning; and with pleasantry, according to Horace, has taken some pains to laugh the world out of them.
« On declaring,” he says, “to one of his brethren, a man 6 of humour, at Bath, that he was determined to write a bitter
philippic against routs, as detrimental to the health of the ” company, from the noxious air in over-crowded rooms, he " archly replied, let them alone, Doctor ; how else could twenty
fix physicians fubfift in this place?”
His obfervations on regimen, he tells us, are the result of long experience : under this head, the subjects he treats on are diet, quality of our foods, drinks, diet of invalids, fruits, strong drinks, and diet accommodated to the cure of diseases. On the article of diet, we have the following remarks.
“ Gluttony is so sordid and so ungentlemanly a vice, that 56 it would be a gross affront to suppose any man above the " degree of a porter to be capable of it: and yet I suspect that " there are few persons in tolerable health, who do not more
lefs exceed at dinner, · One reason of this is, the fashionable irregularity of our meals; the interval between breakfast 66 and dinner being so great, that we are induced by a keen ap. “ petite to swallow the first part of the meal without its being mafticated and blended with the saliva in the mouth; a cir
« cumstance which adds greatly to the labour of the stomach «s in the work of digestion.”
66 Another circumstance, which induces us to exceed in
quantity, is variety of dishes; and, as people of fortune are " frequently epicures in fome degree, they can rarely resist the “ temptation of tasting most of the dishes at table to avoid “ this temptation, it were better, if we were contented with
one dish of meat, plainly dressed, and threw our fevers and gouts to the poor.'
<< It has been a question much agitated, whether supper is or, " is not a wholesome meal; but its being so depends upon
circumstances. The laborious ploughman indulges, with “ impunity, in a plentiful supper; but persons of fortune, unless
they use more exercise then they generally do, experience « inconvenience from a heavy supper. This inconvenience « does not proceed from fupper being less wholesome than « dinner, but because none but the laborious can bear two « full meals of animal food in one day.”.
Under the article of drinks, he says it has been doubted whether rum or brandy is most wholesome, but in his opinion the distinction and dispute is futile ; and with respect to tea and coffee, as he seems to differ from other writers, we think it necessary to lay before our readers what he advances on the subject.
66 I am from long and attentive experience inclined to be“ lieve,” says he," that the opulent are least injured by the “ use of either, whilst tea is much more injurous to the poor. « The reason seems to be, that, as the chief part of the food «s of the laborious and indigent is vegetable, which affords a “ much smaller proportion of nourishment than animal food, “ and is much less permanent and invigorating, especially to " the stomach ; so tea has, from its nature, a peculiar power, " by its action on the nerves of the stomach, to enfeeble not E only that organ, but the whole body : hence we find that “ tremor and other nervous symptoms are often brought on by “ an intemperate use of tea and coffee : this effect may be in " some degree obviated, if not entirely prevented, by adding a 6s considerable portion of sugar and cream, which, being more w oily, is preferable to milk. This observation relates only to
persons in vigorous health, and not to sedentary people, who " in some measure may be ranked with invalids : but, on the " contrary, those persons who indulge in a plentiful use of ania mal food and strong drink, are so far from being incommoded “ either by coffee or tea, that they often qualify and are qualisc fied by these beverages ; insomuch as they partly counteract " the stimulating effects of the foods and drinks; that if these “ or any other articles of food disagree, they should be given
Were we to give our readers one tenth part of the ufeful and pertinent observations to be met with in this volume, we Daould have room for little else. He, by no means, would have invalids, a sedentary people, drink' much tea or coffee, without a considerable quantity of cream and bread and butter. He differs with Dr. Cadogan as to the preference to be given to half-raw meals, and the total prohibition of salted meat and pickles, having known that a small proportion of ham, tongue, &c. has restored even the appetite of invalids, who could
not digeft the infipid foods in the smallest quantities.
Under the head of regimen, he proceeds to speak of the gout, which, he is of opinion, when inveterate, has never yielded to any of the advertised noftrums, but to a change of diet; and he produces fome instances to corroborate this a fler. tion, where old gouty habits have been perfectly eradicated by abftemious living, and refraining from animal food.
He enters but flightly into the nature and effects of mineral waters or sea-bathing, only gives it as his opinion, and brings instances to prove it, that no one should drink such waters, or bathe in the sea, but under the directions of the physicians of the place. At Bath he advises this particularly, (and he appears to be a great friend to the place) from many bad effects that have arisen from not doing it.
In his Essay on Quackery, he is very severe; fays, he has for many years taken much pains to detect the ignorance and knavery of our celebrated noftrum-mongers, and to discover the nature and composition of their remedies. He assures us that Ward was a footman; Rock and Walker were porters ; Graham, a mountebank; Meyersbeck, a rough-rider to a riding house in London ; Turlington, a broken master of a ship ; Dr, Freeman, a journeyman blacksmith; and others were weavers and coblers. And, as to their medicines, he says, “ All those
of Ward, except his pafte, which is an absurd composition, * had long been in regular practice before he adopted them."
" Iurlington's balsam is the Traumatic balsam of the shops ; “ Norton's drops are a disguised solution of the fublimate “ mercury; Daffy's elixir is tincture of sena; Anderson's pills « are aloes, with oil of aniseed ; Speediman's pills, extract of uno chamomile, aloes, and one or two other trifling ingredients;
Stoughton's drops, the stomatic tincture of the shops ; Godfrey's “ Cordial, an infusion of fasafras, syrop, and opium; Beaum " de Vie consists of aloes, rhubarb, and falt of tartar, with a
large proportion of liquorice juice, to disguise the other ina * gredients; and Poudre unique is a combination of mercury " and antimony. In short, there is none of these noftrums, “ (a few trifling tinctures of vegetables, those of Hill particu
larly, excepted) but what are compositions of mercury, « antimony, or opium.”