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FEVER PHYSIOLOGICALLY CONSIDERED ; CONSIDERATIONS ON YELLOW FEVER
TYPHUS FEVER, PLAGUE, CHOLERA, AND SEA Scurvy, &c. By David
The present work is designed, its professional author tells us, to account to his own satisfaction for the phenomena of fever, and to settle with himself its proper mode of treatment. Undoubtedly the information acquired upon the spot where the diseases treated of are occurring, gives an overwhelming advantage in writing upon them, and this we were naturally led to expect from the present work; but we cannot say we find anything very novel unfolded in its pages. The class of disorders the author notices he deems dependent on a deficiency of oxygen in the blood, and recommends medicines which have a tendency to counteract that state. Bleeding he thinks in general of very questionable use ; but there is no actual proof given of any decided advantage in the treatment recommended by well-vouched cases, in which, out of a given number, more than the customary ratio of restorations were effected.
A PRACTICAL MANUAL OF ELOCUTION ; embracing Voice and Gesture.
Designed for Schools, Academies, and Colleges, as well as for Private Teachers. By MERRIT CALDWELL, A.M., Philadelphia. Soreis and Ball. This is an American publication, in which much pains have been taken to meet the object intended. It is evidently the result of practical knowledge. The directions respecting the conduct of the voice are good, and we see no reason to doubt of their efficiency where there is natural aptitude. There are neat wood illustrations of the most advantageous attitudes for a speaker, and the reverse ; while cadence is explained by a scale resembling that of music. The work is ingenious and useful, but the continued advance of the natural over the artificial style renders some portion of it superfluous.
LETTERS FROM MADRAS. By A LADY. Murray's Home and Colonial
Library. Murray This is a very pleasing work, written with great ease, full of vivacity, and so far from being censurable for a “colloquial familiarity of style, as the introduction would seem to imply, that this very style constitutes a great part of the charm felt upon its perusal. These letters are written by a young married lady, who accompanied her husband to Madras several years ago. She evidently possesses
power in catching those salient points observable in manners, which her new locality among a strange people furnished in abundance.
She depicts life accurately, while the harmless humour of her descriptions renders them exceedingly entertaining as well as instructive to the reader.
Her husband was employed in a judicial capacity, first at Rajamundry, from whence he was afterwards removed to Chittoor.
It must not be imagined that the lady writer of these letters is like lady residents in general who are domiciled in India. She enters upon her duties, evidently with a just sense of what is due to her position. She is no exclusive in faith or sociality. She is evidently a good and accomplisher mother, and, premising these things, her heartiness of spirit in her descriptions and the playfulness of her humour rest upon a solid basis of sound good qualities. She clescribes admirably; her hits at her countrymen's foibles, and her laughable descriptions of native manner, chime in well with the care she displays about the welfare of the native schools, and the interest she takes in the reading rooms established for the benefit of the natives. She is a naturalist too, and improved her opportunities for collecting while in the land of the sun. Hier description of a return visit paid to one of the country rajahs is excellent. From the nature of the music which accompanied him, she gave him the name of Penny Whistle.” On arriving at his town she describes the musical instruments, dancing-girls, and the whole scene of her reception, as too absurd for gravity. On entering the palace court, a very fine elephant made his salaam to them, side by side with a wooden rocking-horse ; the court was filled with ragged retainers and fifty dancing-girls, "all bobbing and bowing, salaaming and anticking, nineteen to the dozen." The grotesque habitation is well described, and “Penny Whistle's” collection of pictures, in reality only coloured prints of hares and rabbits. Then all “Penny Whistle” did to entertain ħis guests, and the person of his immense, feather-bed, sphinx-faced wife, so finely dressed, are well hit off. But it must not be imagined that the descriptions are all of a playful character. There are statements respecting education, the missionaries, and the progress of religious instruction full of starting sense.
The sentiments of the people upon topics connected with their own or their christian faith, and, we are sorry to see it, statements of the heavy and grievous taxation of the natives, a feast for five hundre l of whom which she gave them in rice from charity, cost but a guinea and half.
The insipidity of much of Indian life is shown up, as well as the rapid character of conversation in general in that emaciating climate. It appears, however, that the social life of India has its bright side. Speaking of one place she observed that the ladies of the principal officers of the European regiments never become " Indianized” in manners but show themselves exceedingly active and useful, keeping up schools for the soldier's children, and rendering themselves real blessings to this poor countrywoman. But we have said enough to show one good opinion of the letters of this lively and accomplished writer.
THE HISTORY OF ST. GILES AND ST. JAMES,
BY THE EDITOR,
CHAPTER XXXII. " What is it you look at so earnestly ?” asked Mrs. Wilton : and Clarissa, with a flushed cheek, placed the miniature in her bosom. Snipeton had just quitted the house—for we must take back the reader to that point of time—and Clarissa sat, with her heart in her eyes, gazing at the youthful features of her father. As she looked, with fond curiosity comparing those features, in their early bloom and strength, tempered with gentle frankness; as she gazed upon their manly, loving openness, and, with her memory, evoked that melancholy, care-worn face, that, smiling on nought beside, would always smile on her, she felt, she shuddered—but still she felt anger, bitterness towards her mother. Her eye, reading that face, could see where pain had given a sharper edge to time; could see where, in the living face, care had doubled the work of years. Surely, she thought, so fair a morning promised a fairer night. That glad and happy day should have closed with a golden sunset, touching with solemn happiness all it shone upon, as slowly from the earth it passed in glory. These were the daughter's thoughts as she heard her mother's voice. A momentary resentment glowed in her checkdarkened her
eyes. 66 Clarissa ! " “ It is nothing—a—a present from Mr. Snipeton—from my hus
* Continued from p. 118, Vol. IV.
band," said ('larissa coldly. lIer mother took her hand between her own. Aitectionately pressing it, and with all a mother's tenderness beaming in her face--the only look hypocrisy could never yet assume she said, “ It is well, Clarissa- very well. It makes me happy, cleeply happy, to hear you. I think it is the first time you have said • husband.' • Is it so? I cannot tell.
The word escaped me. Yet I-d --must learn to speak it.”
Oh, yes, Clarissa. Make it the music of your life ! Think it a charm that, when pronounced, makes all earth's evils lessdoubling its blessings. A word that brings with it a sense of joy ; a strength ; a faith in human existence. A word that may clothe beggary itself with content, and make a hut a temple. You may still pronounce it. Ok, never, never may you know what agony
it is to forego that word. The living makes it a blessing ; and the dead sanctities and hallows it.”
('larissa felt conscience-smitten, stung with remorse. All heedlessly, cruelly, she had arraigned her mother ; thoughtless of the daily misery that wore her; regardless of the penitence that corroded and consumed her. Forgive me,” she said : forgive me, mother. I will lay this lesson to my heart. I will learn to speak the word. You shall still teach me its sustaining sweetness.”
“ A most unfit teacher ; most unfit,” said the mother, with an appealing look of anguish. - Your own heart will best instruct
And then, with resolute calmness, she asked : “ What is this present ? ”
“You shall not know to-day ; by-and-by, mother. And I have a present, too, for you,” said Clarissa ; and she looked so light, so happy, that her mother for the first time dared to hope. Did the
young victim fcel at length the wife? Would that seeming life-long sorrow pass away, and the sunshine of the heart break in that clouded face?
“I will be patient, child ; nay, I will promise what you will, I feel so grateful that I see you thus cheerful-happy. Shall I not say happy, Clarissa ?”
“Oh yes ; very happy,” answered the wife ; and a sudden pang of heart punished the treason of the lips. “But I must not be idle to-day, I have so much to do.” And Clarissa seated herself at her work; and the mother silently occupied herself. And so, hour after hour passed, and scarce a word was spoken. At
length Dorothy Vale, with noiseless step and folded arms, stood in the room.
They be come,” said Dorothy, with unmoved face, rubbing her arms. “ Who are come ?” asked Clarissa.
Why, Becky be come, and a man with her,” answered Dorothy ; and—it was strange--but her voice seemed to creak with suppressed anger.
“ I am glad of that,” said Clarissa ; “ tell the girl to come to me --directly, Dorothy."
Dorothy stood, rubbing her withered arms with renewed purpose.
Her brow wrinkled, and her grey, cold eyes gleamed, like sharp points, in her head ; then she laughed. “She was brought up in the workhouse ; and to be put over my
head! Well, it's a world ! The workhouse ; and put over my head !” Thus muttering, she left the room. In a moment, Becky-possessed with delight, swimming in a sea of happiness—was curtseying before her new mistress. Now, were we not assured, past all error, that it was the same country wench that half laughed at, half listened to, the flatteries of the deceitful Gum, we should deny her identity with that radiant piece of flesh and blood, that, glowing with felicity, bobbed and continually bobbed before Mrs. Snipeton. Certainly, there is a subtle power of refinement in happiness ; a something elevating, purifying in that expansion of the heart. Sudden bliss invests with sudden grace; and gives to homeliness itself a look of sweetness. The soul, for a brief time, flashes forth with brighter light; asserting itself-as human pride is sometimes apt to think—in the vulgarest, oddest sort of people. And so it was with Becky. To be sure, all the way from St. Mary Axehanging, and sometimes at puddles and crossings, with all her weight on the arm of St. Giles, she had felt the refining process hinted at above. St. Giles had talked on what he thought indifferent matters; but the weather, the shops, the passers-bywhatever his silver tongue dwelt upon—became objects of the dearest interest to the hungry listener ; who now laughed, she knew not why, from her over-brimming heart ; and now had much ado to check her tears, that-she knew it had risen to her eyes, and threatened to flow. She walked in a region of dreams; and intoxicating music broke at every footstep. Could it be truecould it be real-that that wayfaring, wretched man ; that unhappy creature, with all the world hooting at him, chasing him to destruc