In a few weeks a large square portion of land was shorn of the natural forest, reaching from the sea side backwards to the interior. Gigantic trees were extended all over the patch of ground, with their heads lopped off like the slain in a field of battle; the branches and brush-wood were gathered together around the fallen trees, and set on fire and consumed. A stranger beholding them employed in this labour could scarcely help supposing that he had stumbled upon the Romans of ancient days performing the last rites of sepulchre to their brethren who had fallen in battle. The provision grounds for the negroes, the first care of a settlement, were planted with bananas, mangoes, and plantains, besides many other fruits and esculents; and every negro had his garden bestowed on him according to lot. Several acres of sugar canes next rose and spread their long sword-like leaves to the broad tropical sun, waving and rustling in the breezes like fields of sedges. Their lively green afforded a delightful contrast to the sombre forests that surrounded their margin, and cast a refreshing influence on the eye of the distant beholder. The planter's house, like an oblong barn, resting upon four legs of brick, one at each corner, was the succeeding labour. It was built wholly of thin wooden boards nailed to rows of posts, thatched with the sear leaves of the carat, having a balcony on each side, for the purpose of walking and enjoying the cool breezes while the sun was vertical. Into the balcony you ascended by a trap stair, and thus entered the main body of the house in the same way as if you had been entering to a show of wild beasts. The windows of this sylvan palace had no glass; folding shutters, as large as common doors, were of more service, as they could be opened wide to admit the air, and shut at night to keep out the damps. Last of all, the negroes' huts appeared at a little distance from the mansion, neat cabins formed of wood and plastered with clay, or wattled with brushwood, and thatched with as much smoothness as a hen when she has newly pruned her feathers. These stood in a cluster together, but without any regard to order or uniformity. They seemed to have been built under a determination that not two of them should look the same way. To see these huts looking towards every point of the compass, was a ludicrous instance of the variety of taste which negroes have of the perspective, as well as in many other things. The sugar mill, boiling-house, and rum distillery, with a store-house, occupied another distinct situation on the side of a little hillock. These took more time and greater expense to raise than the other buildings, as the greater part of the materials had to abide the contingencies of wind and waves, in their transportation from the British market across the Atlantic. With his mansion-house, his sugar-house, his negro-huts, and the provision grounds, and cane patches waving luxuriantly around them, the planter had now completed his establishment, and was just looking forward to an abundant harvest to reward his industry, when the fatigues and privations, and constant application to the labours of a new settlement, overcame a declining constitution, and he died at the age of sixty; an age under the tropical climate considered patriarchal. His daughter soon thereafter came to England to reside with her relations, and the infant estate was committed for her benefit to the care of trustees. They appointed a manager to superintend the estate.

This person's name was Quiquizola, which from its

sound one would suspect to be of Spanish origin; but Quiquizola was a Frenchman, in whom the vieux regime found an able supporter, at least in so far as chasing his nose at full gallop round the room, thumping upon a table at intervals, blattering negro French, and swearing profound oaths at the cut-throat liberals, could support the ancient dynasty of France. Quiquizola was the most able supporter the Grand Nation can ever register in the annals of fame. His parents had originally fled from France during the reign of terror, and settled in Lower Canada, in North America. From thence they went to Guadaloupe, and thence to Grenada. During the time when our brave Abercromby was tearing down the French flags which they had planted in several of our West India stations, Quiquizola's father had fallen willingly into the hands of our army. He looked upon them rather as his protectors from the persecutions of his own nation, who had pursued him from place to place as a renegade from his country. Having after many wanderings set himself down beside the old planter in Grenada, they contracted a close friendship for each other. It so happened that they emigrated to Trinidad much about the same time; and while the one was busily engaged in the formation of a sugar plantation, the other in the immediate vicinity had begun to clear away the forest for the plantation of coffee trees. Both of Quiquizola's parents had died before the planter, and left their only son, Pierre, under his care. He was then at the age of eighteen, and certainly at a time of life when he might have been expected to take care of himself; but the fond parents, though they were partial to the qualities of their son, knew that he had little experience, and with all his manly disquisitions upon the state of France, and the shrewd measures which he talked of adopting to set France on her legs again, thought they could perceive in him something approaching to imbecility of intellect, or rather a sort of facility of disposition which might lay him open to deception and imposture. They therefore desired the old planter to assist him with advices in regulating his slender fortune. It was on account of the friendship that subsisted between the planter and Quiquizola that induced the planter's executors to entrust the care of the estate to him.

Pancras, and indeed the whole of the negroes, expressed unfeigned sorrow at their old master's decease. Nor was their whole grief confined to the day of his death. Long after he was laid in his grave, which was in a remote and lonely corner of the estate, beneath the shade of a wide spreading cedar, they made visits to the spot with reverence and respect. They appeared to look on his grave as the resting place not of a master, but of a parent. No one who beheld their solemn visitations to this lowly abode would have denied that the Africans' hearts are capable of being tuned to the tender passions, or say that they can never cherish regard for an indulgent master. they were far from being contented with their new superintendent. He was petulant, peevish, and continually barking and scolding;-the versatility of his humour destroyed their confidence in him, and his actions became their jest. He was small of stature, gross and flabby, with a countenance so sallow as to add a long score to his years. His dress was a jacket and trowsers, and a hat, all of snowy whiteness; and had it not been under a tropical sun, you would have

But

mistaken him for a walking snow-ball. There was nothing manly in his appearance, and when Pancras stood beside him, Quiquizola shrunk into insignificance. Pan could scarcely endure to be directed by one, even though he was a white, who had nothing about him to inspire confidence or respect. He soon likewise perceived that there was a wide difference between the intelligent and active Englishman, who did every thing with calmness and decision, and a diminutive Frenchman, whose education was slender, and whose information reached only to a few common-place remarks. Negroes are far from being void of discernment, and though not able to express themselves, they can form correct estimates of character and talent. It often draws astonishment to observe how readily they lay hold of the outward points in the conduct of a white, and thence draw inferences as to his character and talents. Pan had formed different notions of the cultivation of sugar under the tuition of his old master to pay much regard to the directions of Quiquizola, and, proud of his own abilities, he frequently acted in direct opposition to his instructions. When he was reprimanded for this, his answer was that he had done it for the best, because he was working for his Missy, and not for Quiquizola. He frequently rung it in Quiquizola's ears that what he had done was after the manner in which his former master had done. Conduct like this brought down upon him the petty vengeance of the little Frenchman, who sent Pan to work in the field, and placed a more passive negro in his room. The proud-spirited chief could not suffer this treatment with patience; and he sought by a thousand mischievous tricks to spoil every thing into which Quiquizola put his hands. He made him the laughing stock of the slaves by imitating his peevish voice and waddling gait. Pan was frequently caught in the midst of these exhibitions, and had his merriment changed into sorrow.

Pan

He ceased at length to have any veneration for the habitation which was once his pride, and betook himself to his old employment of wandering in the woods. He now became a freebooter, and made many excursions into the provision grounds and hen roosts of the neighbouring estates. His wife became his companion in this roving life. Poultry, pigs, and goats, besides every thing else that could be of service to a tenant of the woods, were nightly stolen from the estates. cras and Dian were secretly blamed by the negroes as the thieves; but such was the terror which his name created, and so well directed were their sorties, that none could say they had been seen, and none dared to mention their names. Guards of negroes were placed on each estate to endeavour to detect them. But in the teeth of the guard Pancras issued from the wood in a clear night, came coolly up to them, and threatened if they offered to give alarm, or stir a limb, he would cleave them with his cutlass, and set fire to their huts. The guard stood trembling like statues agitated by an earthquake, in presence of the giant chief.

He went

close up to the mansion and seized a favourite goat belonging to Quiquizola, and cut its throat in their presence. He threw the quivering animal over his shoulder, and proceeded leisurely to the edge of the wood, where he turned round towards the black guard, and broke the stilly silence of the night by a loud and devilish laugh. He told them the next time he came back it would be to relieve them of Massa Quiquizola,

as he would do with him as he had done with the goat. When this was mentioned to Quiquizola in the morning, his life appeared to him to hang by a hair. He became apprehensive that he would be cut off from the face of the earth at a moment's notice, and he would frequently start from his bed in the night under the influence of horrid dreams. His gun, sword, and a pair of immense pistols, became his constant sleeping companions, and he lay down resting on his arms as if he had been in the camp waiting the approach of an

enemy.

The estate on which these transactions took place was situated on a point of land about sixty miles from the capital of the island. There was no access to the town but by the sea. Thore were perhaps a few footpaths through the woods from one estate to another; but these did not lead far, and to attempt a journey to the town by the land, where the traveller would find swamps, thickets, and mountains continually obstructing his course, would have been as wild an attempt as to endeavour to walk over the sea. Pancras and his wife, however, without making any more visits to the estate, or putting his threat against the life of Quiquizola into execution, found his way to the town. How he accomplished the journey was a subject of conjecture for many a day. Quiquizola got intelligence that the runaway was in the town, and he went immediately and claimed him.

He

They were on board a small sloop, and sailing homeward down the Gulf of Paria, which separates the island from South America. They had come within sight of the estate, and had already got a glimpse of a small flag upon the top of a tall palmist tree, which stood on the very verge of the point of land on which the estate was situated. Quiquizola, who before had been dull and sullen toward the negro, now felt his spirits rise as he came within sight of the domain where he could rule with a despotic hand. He upbraided Pancras with perfidy and wickedness. heaped upon him epithets which he knew would sore wound the feelings of the chief, and promised him the reward of the whip for the fear and dread he had occasioned, and the thefts he had committed. He fumed and paced with mighty strides the deck of the little ship, as if he had been commanding the navies of the Ottoman; and ended his speech by informing the negro that he would burn in hell. "Vous, vous, scelerat serè bruler dans l'enfer," was the pithy climax of his harangue. Pancras, who secretly burned with revenge, sat with seeming patience all this time upon the side of the vessel, eating his dinner of plantains, which his wife had prepared for him. He then lit his pipe, and smoked it, with great coolness. He seemed, however, to be absorbed in meditation; for when his wife spoke to him he made no answer except a vacant stare, and then turned his face alternately to the sky and the sea. The Frenchman had been below; but coming again upon deck, he began to renew the attack of threats and abuse. But a wild and demon-like stare from the negro choked his utterance, and he stood aghast. Pancras improved the moment, and kept his keen eye fixed upon the Frenchman, until he had him in his grasp. Till then the Frenchcan seemed spell-bound; but finding himself grappled with the negro, he made a faint struggle. Pancras stretched himself to the full height of his stature, and encircled the Frenchman in his arms; and having fastened his teeth in his ear, he

never more seen.

made a headlong leap into the abyss, and both disappeared in a moment. The yell of horror which the Frenchman uttered resounded among the woods and along the shore, though they were nearly a mile distant from the land. The master of the sloop backed his sails and manned a boat, and waited to observe if either of them came above the water. The poor Frenchman popped up his little black head and yellow visage within reach of the boat; one of his ears was literally bit, off, but Pancras seized him by the other, and, making another plunge, both disappeared, and were The wife of Pancras was not inconsolable; she merely uttered her favourite exclamation of Yaw, yaw! picked up a jacket and hat which he had thrown down on the deck, lighted the pipe which he had left her as a legacy, and sat herself down; rested her head on her hand, and dissipated her grief in smoke. Widows, black, white, or grey, is it thus ye can forget your loving chieftains? An old negro on board of the sloop, who was considered a tolerable wit among his own nation, made the whole catastrophe an occasion of jest, by ascribing it to the agency of the Old One himself. He observed that the devil had done Massa Quiquizola greater service than ever he had done to any other body; for he had been the means of taking away one of his ears, and he was therefore only half The whole of the black crew who manned the sloop grinned from ear to ear, and laughed out of all moderation at this piece of African wit.-L. Gazette.

an ass.

ON THE DEATH OF INEZ.

BY DELTA.

"Trs midnight deep; the full, round moon,
As 'twere a spectre, walks the sky;
The balmy breath of gentlest June
Just stirs the stream that murmurs by:
Above me frowns the solemn wood;
Nature, methinks, seems Solitude
Embodied to the eye.

Yes, 'tis a season and a scene,
Inez, to think on thee: the day,

With stir and strife, may come between
Affection, and thy beauty's ray;
But feeling here assumes controul,
And mourns my desolated soul

That thou art rapt away!

Thou wert a rainbow to my sight,
The storms of life before thee fled;
The glory and the guiding light,

That onward cheered, and upward led;
From boyhood to this very hour,
For me, and only me, thy flower
Its fragrance seemed to shed.

Dark though the world for me might shew
Its sordid faith, and selfish gloom,
Yet, 'mid life's wilderness, to know
For me that sweet flower shed its bloom,
Was joy, was solace,-thou art gone-
And hope forsook me, when the stone
Sank darkly o'er thy tomb.

And art thou dead? I dare not think

That thus the solemn truth can be;

And broken is the only link

That chained youth's pleasant thoughts to me! Alas! that thou couldst know decay

That, sighing, I should live to say,

'The cold grave holdeth thee!'

For me thou shon'st, as shines a star,
Lonely, in clouds when heaven is lost;
Thou wert my guiding light afar,
When on Misfortune's billows tost:
Now darkness hath obscured that light,
And I am left, in rayless night,
On Sorrow's lowering coast.

And art thou gone? I deemed thee some
Immortal essence,-thou art gone!—
I saw thee laid within the tomb,
And I am left to mourn alone:
Once to have loved, is to have loved
Enough; and what with thee I proved,
Again I'll seek in none.

Earth in thy sight grew faëry land ;—
Life was Elysium-thought was love,-
When, long ago, hand clasped in hand,
We roamed through Autumn's twilight grove;
Or watched the broad, uprising moon
Shed, as it were, a wizard noon,
The blasted heath above.

Farewell!-and must I say, farewell?—
No-thou wilt ever be to me

A present thought; thy form shall dwell
In love's most holy sanctuary;

Thy voice shall mingle with my dreams,
And haunt me, when the shot-star gleams
Above the rippling sea.

Never revives the past again;
But thou shalt be, in lonely hours,
To me earth's heaven,-the aznre main,—
Soft music, and the breath of flowers;
My heart shall gain from thee its hues;
And Memory give, though Truth refuse,
The bliss that once was ours!

ON THE PRESERVATION OF SIGHT.

"Sudden changes from comparative darkness to strong light, and vice versa, are highly improper: hence the eyes should be carefully guarded from the full effect of the morning sun on first awaking in summer; and the custom of breakfasting in the lightest room in the house, as is generally practiced, is certainly weakening to the eyes, which ought to be accustomed by gentle transitions from one degree of light to another, till they can bear the effulgence of the sun's meridian splendour.

Rubbing the eyes on waking is a destructive habit which many people have contracted; for though healthy persons, whose sight is moderately used through the day, may not be sensible of receiving any injury from this custom; yet those whose occupations demand close application of their visual organs for any continued space of time, will soon be convinced by painful exBesides the perience of the truth of this remark.

daily injury thus done to the eyes, it sometimes also happens that hairs and other foreign matters are forced into them by their being violently rubbed, which may occasion inflammation, and are frequently very troublesome to dislodge. The inflamed and weak eyes of many persons are likewise in a great measure to be attributed primarily to this most imprudent habit. Should, however, the eyelids be so fixed that a difficulty in opening them is felt, let them be moistened with a little warm milk and water for a few minutes, which, in all cases where the organ is healthy, will be found to answer the purpose in a manner such as they can have no idea of, who have never tried this simple remedy.

The use of shades and bandages, on every trifling affection of the eye, is an evil that cannot be too strongly reprobated; for the action of light and air being thus excluded, and the organ rigidly compressed, ophthalmia, and even total blindness, is not infrequently the consequence of what, being perhaps merely a slight flow of humour, or a little extravasated blood, would have subsided in a few days, if judiciously treated, or even if left to itself.

Bathing the eyes occasionally during the day as well as on rising, is of much importance to their preservation: where the organ is healthy, cool spring water should be preferred; but where there is reason to suspect any disease, people cannot be too careful, considering what a very delicate organ the eye is, in having professional advice before they adopt any remedial means. When the roads are dusty and the weather windy, bathing the eyes is so pleasant, and felt to be so necessary to comfort, that I need say nothing as to its salubrity, to induce its employment by those who have experienced the annoyance arising from dust in walking our streets in summer; but I have to remark, that care must be taken to be perfectly cool before bathing the eyes, because if the face be covered with perspiration, the application of cold water may be very dangerous.

It is essential to the preservation of the sight in any degree of vigour, that the apartments in which the greatest portion of our time is spent, and in which are carried on those occupations requiring a continued exertion of our eyes, be in a light and cheerful situation; for whoever neglects this advice will assuredly sooner or later feel the baneful effects of his temerity. Care should also be taken to avoid rooms whose windows face whitewashed walls, which reflect the rays of the sun so powerfully as in a short time sensibly to weaken the strongest sight, causing inflammations, and a train of other evils.

An excess of gilding, or indeed of any shining or white articles, in rooms, ought to be carefully avoided. Dress also, it cannot be doubted, exercises much influence on the visual organs; and many naturally good eyes have been permanently weakened by the apparently innocent custom of wearing a veil, the constant shifting of which affects the sight so prejudicially, in its ceaseless endeavoure to adjust itself to the veil's vibrations, that I have known not a few young ladies who have brought on great visual debility by this means alone. Again, tight clothing is manifestly hurtful to the sight; too copious a flow of humours being thereby induced to the head; for it needs not to be demonstrated, that the effective state of the eyes, like every other part of the body, depends on a free circulation of blood, which cannot take place when the body is too straitly laced or buttoned.

A due portion of sleep is as essential to enable the eyes to perform their office comfortably and effectively, as a due portion of rest is to enable the limbs wearied with toil, or the mind with reasoning or other kind of exertion, to resume with alacrity their wonted offices. But sleep too long protracted, on the other hand, is perhaps hardly less destructive of accurate and healthy vision than when taken too sparingly; for as in the one case the organ is enfeebled by unremitting activity, without a proper degree of repose, so in the other case the eye, from unfrequent or insufficient exercise, becomes torpid and dull, and if inaction be persisted in, is at length unfitted for its functions.

Consequently, however strong and good our sight may be, it ought always to be moderately and carefully used; and to make it plain, what I consider the symptoms of its having been immoderately and carelessly used, I shall throw together a few remarks by which each may judge for himself of the nature of his own

case.

If, in order to perceive objects distinctly, we are compelled to place them nearer to the eye than we have been accustomed, i. e. if the focus of sight or point of view begins closer to the eye than usual. If one desires, while employed or otherwise, to fix the eyes steadfastly on some distant object, and they begin involuntarily to emit aqueous humours. If during labour or occupation, a painful contraction through the entire orbit of the eye be experienced, but which invariably disappears after a few minutes' rest, or shutting the eyelids now and then. If the employment be protracted, or require close mental application added to considerable visual tension, and the contraction just noticed is followed by heat in the eyelids, heaviness, difficulty of opening them, &c. If in young persons who are fair and sanguine, the borders of the eyelids become red, or thicker than when in health, and the blood-vessels turgid. If, in fine, we perceive motes floating before the eyes (called muscæ volitantes), and objects become so indistinct and ill defined as to oblige us to shut our eyes for a while;-then, in any of these cases, we may be certain that the sight has been overworked, and that relaxation is absolutely necessary to its recovery of a healthy tone. It is of the utmost consequence that these premonitory symptoms be carefully attended to, otherwise the eyes are in danger of being materially weakened ever after.

If however, these symptoms are neglected, others of a more formidable character will not be long in making their appearance; the first of which will be, that objects will seem as if encircled by a faint cloud or mist, the extremities of it being tinged with every variety of colour: after which, objects will begin to dance before the eyes, which are suddenly enveloped in great obscurity, and the objects themselves, at times seemingly raised, at others lowered, not unfrequently topsy-turvy, look as if they were floating at random. Now, though even this stage can hardly be called an actual disorder, being rather perhaps a kind of oscillation, as it were, between disease and health, yet if still unattended to, it may ultogether ruin the sight for the rest of life.

A few simple remedies are, indeed, all that are required to restore the healthy functions of the organ in such cases; and these I shall briefly explain.

The first thing to be attended to, is a careful regulation of the use of the eyes in regard to length of time, as far as this is practicable: entire disuse of them suddenly would be almost as injurious as a continued straining of them beyond their capabilities. They should, therefore, be variously employed as much as this can be done, not applying them too long or too intently to the same object, but relieving them by change of scene and diversity of occupation.

Another means that will be found to be beneficial, and to help the eyes where much relaxation cannot be obtained, consists in shutting them now and then while at work, going into the air, looking out at an open window, especially if there be any trees or verdure within sight: this interval of rest, though only of a few minutes' continuance, will be found greatly to re

lieve the eyes, and enable them to resume their employment with comparative pleasure.

A third caution is, that those who are conscious from experience that their sight has been weakened by its severe and protracted exercise, or arising from any other cause, should carefully avoid all attention to minute objects, or such business or study as requires close application of the visual faculty, immediately on rising; and the less it is taxed for a while after eating, or by candle-light, the better.

The fourth means I have already recommended, viz. bathing the eyes frequently through the day with cold water. Though the effect of this simple remedy may for a time be hardly perceptible, yet if duly persevered in, I can vouch for its producing the happiest results. So long as there is no actual disease of the eyes, only cold water should be used; and this, applied in the gentlest manner, will soon become sufficiently tepid for all the ends of utility and comfort.

These several methods are of course referrible only to cases of weakness, &c. brought on by fatigue and over-exertion. But where no such causes can be assigned for imperfection of sight and pain in the organ, advice ought to be immediately sought; and on no account should any remedies be applied but under the direction of an experienced oculist.

The kind and degree of light in which an occupation is carried on, deserves some notice.

Whatever be the nature of the occupation, an equal degree of light should, if possible, be attained, and a happy medium observed-there should neither be too much nor too little, both being very destructive to the eyes. Some, however, seem to think that nothing can affect their sight; hence we find such persons, as a matter of choice, working opposite a wall white enough to reflect powerfully the sun's rays; never considering that this foolish conduct cannot fail to weaken their vision. I have, indeed, frequently known this to be the cause of obstinate and dangerous inflammations, which, even after cured, left the eyes still so weak as to unfit them ever after for their accustomed duties.

Within these few years past, screens and shades against the light have come very much into Vogue for weak eyes; but I may observe that such artificial defences are only serviceable and proper for those whose eyes are very prominent, and who have very sparing eyelashes and eyebrows. To such as, from this cause, need some protection for their eyes, a green silk shade is the simplest as well as the best contrivance that can be used,

Reading by moonlight, or gazing steadfastly on the moon for any considerable length of time, is a common practice with many young people, but one which cannot be too strongly censured. Even total loss of sight has sometimes been the consequence of astronomers pursuing their observations of the moon for too long continued a period, without sufficient intervals of repose; and in all cases the sight is more or less dimmed and weakened by exposure to such influence.

Some remarks on the care and use of the sight from infancy to age may with propriety be made here.

The eyes of infants should be gradually accustomed to exercise themselves in scrutinising distant objects; but this should be done in the most careful manner, without inducing them to strain their tender sight on such things as are too remote or dazzling for them to see without causing too forcible a contraction of their

immature organs, which may lay the foundation of permanent and irremediable debility throughout life.

If these precautions are duly taken in infancy, and a proper regard be had in the use of the vision during youth, by not over-straining it, either by excessive reading at night, or any other practice likely to be detrimental, then even to old age the eyes will sustain a great deal of active labour without suffering from fatigue, and thus one of the most annoying of decaying nature's infirmities be kept at bay perhaps even till the hour of dissolution.

Although what follows may perhaps be considered as belonging more strictly to the chapter on the treatment of diseases of the eye, yet as these remarks refer only to cases in which, for the most part, professional assistance is not essential, they may, without impropriety, be introduced at this place.

Foreign bodies are often forced into the eye by various causes, such as a gust of wind, mending a pen, &c. &c. and here the method taken to remove such is generally wholly unsuited to that end. The eyelids are first rubbed with the hand, which always produces unpleasant sensations, and not unfrequently inflammation, the offending substance being in danger of being forced into the coats of the eye, whence it cannot, without considerable difficulty, be removed. On the contrary, let the head be leant forward, and the upper eyelid raised by the person suffering, who will be more gentle than another can be; and by this means he will commonly succeed in expelling it. The natural consequence of raising the eyelid, and retaining it in that position, is a flow of tears, which bring with them the intruding body, or carry it towards the canthus of the eye next the nose, whence it may be easily removed. Should this, however, be found ineffectual, the finger may be gently passed over the eyelid, towards the nose, a few times, which seldom fails to cause the substance to descend to the lachrymal glands, and thus be dislodged.

But should he still be unsuccessful, then it will be advisable to let another person introduce, between the eyelid and the ball, a small hair-pencil dipped in cream, beginning at the outer corner and proceeding towards the nose, which usually effects the desired intention. Further than this I would warn any unprofessional individual from going; as a serious lasting injury may be done to so delicate an organ before we are aware of it, and cause much painful reflection on ourselves afterwards.

As connected with the care of the eyes, what I am about to mention may perhaps properly be introduced here. It has lately become much the practice in this country, to hire both single and double opera-glasses at the theatres; and in doing so, it behoves persons to be particularly careful. Few organs are more sensitive than the eye, or more readily take an infection; and should the smallest particle of purulent matter from the of an individual afflicted with ophthalmia adhere to a borrowed glass, and come in contact with a healthy eye, the disease will almost invariably be communicated: in the same manner as a foul comb, used after a person having tinea capitis, induces the disease; and as many other diseases are communicated by touching the vestments, &c. of those affected with them.

eye

(Extracted from Mr. Curtis's Treatise on the Physiology and Diseases of the Eye.)