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manner, and are depicted with so much simplicity on the changing face of children. While the feeble muscles of their arms and legs can hardly execute some uncertain movements, the muscles of the face already express, by distinct motions, although composed of very complicated elements, almost the whole succession of general affections proper to human nature; and the attentive observer easily recognises in this picture the characteristic traits of the future man. Where shall we seek the causes of these expressions, which are composed of so many diverse elements? Where find the principle of these passions, which could not have formed themselves at once? Certainly not in the impressions of external objects, still so new, so confused, so discordant."

POPULAR DISCUSSIONS.

"DESTRUCTIVENESS" & "COMBATIVENESS."

SOME MONTHS SINCE, Mr. Editor, you published some observations of mine on the subject of Phrenology. I now beg leave to offer a few remarks on the organ and faculty usually called "destructiveness." But first, let me say a word or two on that of "combativeness," as it is usually called.

that I cannot believe Phrenology will long continue to divide what is so simple into two parts. Without the possibility of clearly distinguishing the separation, every phrenologist must have felt the embarrassment occasioned by having two fighting faculties (combativeness and destructiveness); and those who have not got used to it will the more readily give up one of them, when they find that other and more suitable employment has been found for its organ, which I will now attempt to do.

Dr. Gall was in the habit of comparing the skulls of the carnivorous and the graminivorous tubes of animals, and he at length came to the conclusion, that the most marked difference was in the region marked number six on the ordinary bust (destructiveness, of Spurzheim). In this I agree with him; but I dissent entirely from the theory he formed as to its function. I think that we might reasonably anticipate that this would be found to be the organ of that faculty, in the manifestation of which these two tribes of animals differed to the greatest extent. Now I contend that there is not another faculty amongst vertebrate animals-man included-in which there is anything like such a marked difference as in that of alimentiveness. The graminivorous animal has merely to bend his head to the ground, and eat his fill. A small and feeble propensity to eat, is sufficient to induce him to do so; whereas, the carnivorous animal has often to travel many miles, through many weary days, in search of food, and then perhaps to contend for it with animals as large and powerful as himself-animals possessing formidable weapons of defence, and large propensities urging them on to the deadly use of those weapons. A class of animals placed under such circumstances, requires, indeed, a large and powerful propensity to feed; indeed their very existence is incompatible with a small and feeble

The function of this faculty appears to me, to be that of removing or destroying whatever causes a painful state in the other faculties, or is opposed to their being in a pleasant state. It may be called anger, or resentment. If we see a man cruelly ill-treating another, our benevolence is placed in a painful state, and our resentment or anger is kindled against the wrong doer. We feel a desire to injure him. If honors are about to be conferred upon us, and some one steps in to prevent it, our anger is kindled again; but if we had no benevolence, and no love of honors, we should not be angry. The faculty is not spon-one. taneously active, but requires a stimulant. That stimulant is an unpleasant state of any of the other feelings. A spontaneously active faculty of destructiveness, or combativeness, might be found in the head of a fiend, but surely not in the head of a human being.

Suppose that when we were hungry, some one should run away with our food; and when we run after them they out-ran us, our alimentiveness would be placed in a painful state, and our anger would be kindled against the person causing that state. And in this way may the anger of the lion be kindled against the flying deer. The lion looks on the deer as running away with his food. If we had to contend with a man for our food, we should get angry with him for refusing to let us eat. In a similar manner does the lion get angry with the bull or elephant, for refusing to let him eat them. A pugilist in fighting, gets angry with his opponent for refusing to let him enjoy the sweets of victory, and for putting his sensitiveness (caution) in a painful state. Inanimate objects are excitants equally with animate ones; and even laws and customs may excite our anger towards them. If we see a law or custom which produces misery, and thus offends our benevolence, we desire the annihilation, or rather abolition, of that law or custom. All this appears to me so clearly the function of one faculty only,

A little mongrel dog in the manger might starve an ox or a horse to death, but who shall stand between the lion and his prey? Those who have witnessed the feeding of the carnivori in the Zoological Gardens, will not easily forget the natural language they express of the propensity

to feed.

Throughout the whole range of the animal kingdom, there is no natural language at all to compare with it. No natural language of a propensity to kill can be observed; they scarcely open their drowsy eyes on the approach of a human being; and should an expression of natural language escape them, it is merely because they see in that human being just simply so much food. But just show them a shin of beef, and their whole frame becomes agitated, their eyes assume a terrible, sparkling, and restless activity, their roar is fearful, and they seem to become possessed with an all-devouring and intensely-impatient desire to get at it. And when reduced to possession, who shall dare to touch it? It is never safe to touch the food of the smallest and feeblest of dogs or cats, yet you may take the hay out of the mouth of an ox, or an ass, or horse, and tantalise them with it as long as you please.

The propensity of the carnivori is not to kill, but to eat. In point of fact, there is no necessity for such a propensity, it is not at all required; the only requisite is a strong and stimulating

propensity to feed; the killing is the consequence of the eating. It is no more proper to say, that a lion in killing and eating a sheep is actuated by one propensity to kill the sheep, and by another to eat the sheep, than to say that the sheep is actuated by a desire to take away the life of the grass, and a desire to eat the grass. The life is taken away, in both cases, in precisely the same

way.

I repeat, there is no faculty to be found in either man or the lower animals, in which such great and marked differences exist as in the propensity to feed. There are no two tribes of animals differ so much in any other particular as do the carnivori and herbivori in that of the propensity to feed; and we shall look in vain for any other organ in which such a marked difference of development is to be found. This argument is, if not all-sufficient, of the utmost weight in deciding the question.

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Buffon appears to have seized on the voracity of the carnivori as their most prominent characteristic. He frequently speaks of them as being "gorged with prey." Of the tigers, he says, "They tear the body for no other purpose than to plunge their head into it, and to drink large draughts of blood; the sources of which are generally exhausted before their thirst is appeased." Of the lions in captivity he says, "As his movements are impetuous, and his appetite vehement, we ought not to presume that he can always be balanced by the impressions of education. It is dangerous, therefore, to allow him to want food too long, or to irritate him unnecessarily." Again-"He roars at the sight of everything that lives; every object appears to him as a fresh prey, which he devours beforehand with the avidity of his eyes. naces with frightful groans and the grinding of his He meteeth, and often darts upon it without regard ing his chains, which only restrain, but cannot calm his fury.' Of the jagur, He says "he is the tiger of the new world," and "when his stomach is full, he so entirely loses all courage and vivacity, that he runs before a single dog. He is neither nimble nor active, save when pressed with hunger." "Of the cougar, he says Though weaker, he is equally ferocious, and perhaps more cruel than the jagur; he appears to be still more rapacious on his prey; for he devours without tearing it in pieces. As soon as he seizes an animal, he kills, sucks, and eats it successively, and never quits it until he is fully gorged." Of the two together, he says-" When gorged with prey, they are both equally indolent and cowardly." The wild hog procures his food with difficulty. He has to plough for a livelihood; or, in other words, he has to root in the ground with his nose; and we find that his organ of alimentiveness is intermediate between the graminivorous and carnivorous tribes. speaks of them as follows:-"Their gluttony, as Buffon formerly remarked, is equally gross, as their nature is brutal," and "though extremely gluttonous, they never attack, or devour other animals." Fenelon, in Telemachus, speaks of the "Numidian lion, which cruel hunger devours, and which rushes into a flock of feeble sheep-he rends, he slays, he swims in blood."

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Here we have evidence of a propensity such as has no equal in the whole range of animal nature.

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The continuance of the species may be dependent tence of the animal is dependent on this. It on other propensities, but the individual exiscannot go beyond a certain time without food, and live. Imagine that time to be nearly spentthe animal yet wandering on in pursuit of food; and as that worn away with want and fatigue, bodily wasting away increases, so does that food is seen, though that food has been endowed pensity increase in energy; and when at length by nature with instincts to preserve it from becoming food, though it possesses powerful means of flight, or deadly weapons of defence, combined with courage, sagacity, and healthyet the sight of that food is sufficient to compensate for all that wasting away, for all that feebleness. The poor, lame, and weary brute becomes on a sudden possessed of strength, energy, activity, indomitable courage; and he rushes on to his prey, regardless of danger to life and limb, simply and singly actuated by a desire to eat.

the most ferocious villains have so generally a But it may reasonably be asked, how is it that large development of the organ in question? My answer will be gathered from the following remarks: I have observed that, generally, the size of this organ is a fair index of the stoutness of the person. It appears to me, that immediately in front of its organ is located the organ of the perceptive faculty of taste, and that there is also in contact with it the organ of a faculty which influences digestion; and that the members of this group are generally large, or small, together, and that when large there is a good digestion, and an abundant supply of blood, giving great flesh. Bold robbers and murderers exhibit in energy to the brain, and body, and making much their daring, much energy at the time of action. But we may trace a very intimate connection betweenthis faculty and crime. Mr. Coombe says, speaking of combativeness,-"When the organ is large, and excited by strong potations, an excessive tendency to quarrel and fight is the consequence. Hence some individuals in whom it is great, but whose moral and intellectual faculties are capable of restraining it when sober, appear, when inebriated, to be of a different nature, and extremely combative!"

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an account of which

excess of intoxicating drink. Extreme hunger
A deficiency of food has an effect similar to an
has a sort of maddening effect on the faculty
of anger. The fearful effects produced by a want
of food, and also by intoxicating drinks, are seen
to an awful extent in the history of the ship-
wreck of the "Medusa,
is published by Chambers, in No. 92 of the
Miscellany, from which the following extracts
are taken:-" Now, maddened with liquor, the
they proceeded to cut the lashings that held the
folly of the Mutineers knew no bounds; and
timbers of the raft together, in order to destroy
all at a blow.'

raged, some of the mutineers took occasion to
Again, "while the combat still
throw into the sea, together with her husband,
the unfortunate woman who was on board" (the
raft). To show the severity with which those are
against alimentiveness, take the following
treated who under such circumstances offend
"Two soldiers were discovered drinking wine

clandestinely from the cask, by means of a pipe. As this had been declared to be a crime punishable with death, they were immediately seized and cast into the sea.' There were originally on the raft one hundred and fifty; and although of these one hundred and twenty had perished, yet were two of the remaining thirty doomed to death for painfully impressing the alimentiveness

of the other survivors. In these extracts we

have evidence of the great influence exercised by

alimentiveness over the other faculties.

Let us now take the case of a man, having the moral and restraining faculties but poorly developed, and let him have a largely developed alimentiveness. We will suppose him to be a farm laborer. He will always be on the look-out for opportunities of gratifying his propensity. Eating and drinking will be to him the acme of enjoyment. He will be extremely liable to lose his character and employment. He becomes acquainted with a gang of accomplished thieves and burglars; he sees to what extent they gratify their alimentiveness, and joins them. Henceforth, thieving and carousing occupy his whole attention. Thieves and burglars are great carousers. How frequently do they in the midst of danger give way to their ruling propensity? How frequently have they, after breaking into a dwelling-house, and after having bound the inmates, sat down to eat and drink, until, as Buffon would say, they were fully gorged. They rob and plunder, that they may eat and drink" their fill." We need not wonder that alimentiveness should be found so large in their heads!

Again, gross feeding has a sympathetic action on the other faculties. Byron declared that beefsteaks would make him ferocious; and every sensitive mind will be aware how much our food has to do with our moral conduct. I am backed up by the testimony of hundreds of divines, magistrates, jail-governors, and others, when I assert that the abuse of alimentiveness is more productive of crime, than the abuse of all the other faculties put together.

Those who may agree with me in the view I have taken, will admire the force of the truth-that though the real organ of alimentiveness had been given over to another function, yet nature kept continually pointing to this region as its seat; and phrenologists were compelled to admit that a fullness of this region was accompanied by a love of feeding. Most firmly do I believe, that although phrenologists of some standing have got used to two aggressive faculties, the rising generation of phrenologists will very willingly discard one of them; and I can promise them that if they do, they will find phrenology much improved thereby.

It may be asked, why should a lion or tiger kill so many more animals than they eat? To this I would answer, that it is not satisfactorily established that they ever leave an animal, after killing it, without drinking the blood, to which they seem to be the most partial; and I would ask in return, why do so many other kinds of animals destroy so much more food than they consume? Why do the Brazilian monkeys pluck so much more fruit than they carry away?

J. S. H.

Popular Science.

THE STEREOSCOPE, POPULAR Science is now making such rapid strides, that the pen can hardly keep pace in recording its progress.

A few days since, we had our attention directed by a friend to a little mechanical apparatus, called the Stereoscope; "one of the most delightful inventions," as our informant called it, " of modern times." It is so. Let us describe it in few words, as we saw it in operation at the "Daguerrotype Portrait Gallery" of MR. MAYALL, 224, Regent Street.

As we dislike the introduction of techni

calities in a popular journal, let us remark that the Stereoscope presents all persons who have had their likenesses taken by the Daguerreotype, with an apparent cameo, or raised bust of the same-standing out in full relief like marble.

This is effected, by merely placing a person's likeness in duplicate, one on either side of a small mahogany frame. Immediately above each of these, is fixed a magnifying eye-glass. By simply looking through this, in duplicate, are seen by an optical illusion as through a telescope, the likenesses, before one; and that one, a raised bust! The effect of this is delicately beautiful. And as for the likeness, it is so perfect-so completely a fac-simile of the original, that the smallest mark on the countenance is preserved intact. It becomes, in fact, stereotyped.

melted into 66

This is alone sufficient to immortalise the stereoscope. If any pet of ours be possessed even of a pimple on her fair skin, let us see it in her picture by all means. A miniature must be a "likeness," or it loses all real

value.

MR. MAYALL deserves all we can say in praise of his skill; and we thank him for the opportunity he has afforded us, at an inexpensive rate, of throwing so much expression into the picture of all we hold dear.

THE HYDRO-ELECTRIC CHAIN.

THE very remarkable weather that we have had for the last four months, has put the virtues of "Pulvermacher's Patent Portable Chain" to a severe test. Rheumatism, lumbago, nervous affection, and the various bodily ailments peculiar to the season, have this year been in unceasing operation, with all their baneful effects.

It was to assist in removing these, that the Chain we are now noticing was invented; and we are well pleased to be able to speak in decided terms of its great, nay marvellous utility. It is truly simple in its

application; for it has hardly been placed round the part affected more than a few minutes, before its efficacious power becomes manifest. We know very little yet about the latent power of electricity; but this magic Chain will go very far towards opening our eyes to it. Many of our own friends have purchased the Chain; and they all speak of it as having been not only useful in relieving them from present pain, but in restoring them to a healthy state of body. This enables us to give it our unqualified good word.

No family should remain unprovided with this Chain. Its cost is a bagatelle; its virtues are unappreciable.

THE DAY-LIGHT REFLECTOR.

A "GOOD" Reflector has been a desideratum long sought for, but never yet found. Practical men have not failed to turn their unremitting attention to the subject, yet

until now without avail.

Years ago, glass reflectors were produced; and coated by a chemical deposition of silver. For a time, they afforded a most brilliantly-reflected light. It was found however, that although protected from the action of the atmosphere, no deposition of silver upon glass could ever withstand the test of heat or light. Hence, though these glass reflectors required no cleaning or rubbing, their becoming fearfully discolored after a short use, rendered them totally valueless. They are now looked at as mere curiosities; for time has converted what was really silver," into the appearance of pewter! This decided failure in glass reflectors has called into the field another candidate for public favor-Mr. CHAPPUIS, who has produced a reflector, at a very small cost, which bids fair to become universally popular; nor do we see why even our drawing-rooms should not be illuminated by its agency.

The name given to the Reflector of Mr. Chappuis, is, the Daylight Reflector. It is worthy of its name; for it dispenses with the use of a very large body of gas, whilst it gives the light of day" at almost a nominal cost. This is a grand result gained; and when we consider how greatly health must be promoted by its adoption (for gas-light, it is well known, is most obnoxious in its effects on the system), we think we have shown its claims on public regard.

This reflector, it must be borne in mind, is not made of glass; but of a highly-silvered metal, prepared so as to enhance the power of reflection. The frames, too, are so constructed as to effectually protect the reflector from the action of the atmosphere.

It is therefore rendered durable. We observe that they have been fixed already in the principal thoroughfares of London, and its suburbs.

At last, then, we have obtained what we have so long sought after-a "good" reflector; and one of any required size or power. The Manufactory, we should add, is at No. 10, St. Mary Axe.

AN HONEST TRICK,

A young man of eighteen or twenty, a student in a university, took a walk one day with a professor, who was commonly called the Students' Friend-such was his kindness to the young men whom it was his office to instruct. While they were now walking together, and the professor was seeking to lead the conversation to grave subjects, they saw a pair of old shoes lying in the path, which they supposed belonged to a poor man who had nearly finished his day's work. The young student turned to the professor, saying-"Let us play the man a trick'; we will hide bushes, and watch to see his perplexity when he his shoes, and conceal ourselves behind these

cannot find them."

must never amuse ourselves at the expense of the 'My dear friend," answered the professor, "we poor. But you are rich, and may give yourself a much greater pleasure by means of this poor man. Put a five shilling piece in each shoe ; and then we will hide ourselves."

The student did so, and then placed himself, with the professor, behind the bushes hard by, through which they could easily watch the laborer, and see whatever wonder or joy he might express. The poor man soon finished his work, had left his coat and shoes. While he put on his and came across the field to the path where he coat, he slipped one foot into one of his shoes. Feeling something hard, he stooped down and found the coin. Astonishment and wonder were upon his countenance; he gazed upon the crown piece, turned it round, and looked again and again. Then he looked around on all sides, but could see no one. Now he put the money in his pocket, and proceeded to put on the other shoe. What was his astonishment when he found the

other crown piece! His feelings overcame him; he fell upon his knees, looked up to heaven, and uttered a loud and fervent thanksgiving, in which he spoke of his wife, sick and helpless; and his children, who, from some unknown hand, would be saved from perishing.

The young man stood there deeply affected, and with tears in his eyes. "Now," said the professor, "are you not much better pleased than if you had played your intended trick?" "Oh, dearest sir," answered the youth, "you have taught me a lesson now, that I will never forget. I feel now the truth of the words which I have never before understood.-'It is better to give

than to receive.'"

A few more such practical "tricks" as these, we should indeed be glad to record. It is an illomen, when we see the poor neglected, and allowed to perish without a helping hand held out for their relief.

DOMESTIC LAYS,-No. III.

TO AN ABSENT WIFE.

THOυ bad'st me, dearest, string my harp,
And wake a song for thee;
But ah! I want thy look of love
To set its numbers free;
I want affection's smile and blush,
Its meed of gentle praise;
Thy lute-like voice's silver gush,
My drooping soul to raise.

I want to hear thee softly creep
To mark each tender line;

To feel thee o'er my shoulder peep,
And lay thy cheek to mine;
I want the twilight's silent hour,
The spell of star and tree,
The perfume of the shutting flower,
To breathe my love for thee.

I want the atmosphere of home
To melt the icy chain

Around my heart to see the bloom
On thy dear cheek again.

I want the music of thy tone,
The honey of thy kiss;
And yet, how should I feel alone
With memories like this?

By Babel's stream the exiled Jews
Hung up their harps, and wept;
While in each breast the heavenly muse
In voiceless sorrow slept.
Thus o'er my spirit falls a gloom

Which chains both heart and hand;
How shall I sing " a song of home,"
When in a stranger-land?

The palm-tree 'mid the desert waste
Points out the spring below,
And bids the fainting pilgrim haste
Where crystal waters flow.
Like him I fly to that dear home,
Whose joy-springs never cease;
Where gentlest feelings bud and bloom
Beneath the sun of peace!

PROCRASTINATION S.

BY DOCTOR MACKAY.

IF Fortune, with a smiling face,
Strew roses on our way,
When shall we stoop to pick them up?
To-day, my love, to-day,

But should she frown with face of care,
And talk of coming sorrow,

When shall we grieve, if grieve we must?
To-morrow, love, to-morrow.

If those who've wronged us own their faults,
And kindly pity pray,

When shall we listen and forgive?
To-day, my love, to-day.

But if stern Justice urge rebuke,
And warmth from Memory borrow,
When shall we chide (if chide we dare)?
To-morrow, love, to-morrow.

If those to whom we owe a debt
Are harmed unless we pay,
When shall we struggle to be just?
To-day, my love, to-day.
But if our debtor fail our hope
And plead his ruin thorough,
When shall we weigh his breach of faith?
To-morrow, love, to-morrow.

If Love, estranged, should once again
Her genial smile display,

When shall we kiss her proffered lips?
To-day, my love, to-day.

But, if she would indulge regret,
Or dwell with bygone sorrow,

When shall we weep (if weep we must)?
To-morrow, love, to-morrow.

For virtuous acts and harmless joys
The minutes will not stay;
We've always time to welcome them,
To-day, my love, to-day.

But care, resentment, angry words
And unavailing sorrow,

Come far too soon, if they appear,-
To-morrow, love, to-morrow!

FRIENDS IN WINTER.

THE rose is for the nightingale,
The heather for the lark;
But the holly greets the redbreast,

'Mid winter drear and dark.

And the snow-drop, wakened by his song,
Peeps tremblingly forth-

From her bed of cold, still slumber,
To gaze upon the earth.

For the merry voice above her,
Seemed a herald of the Spring,
As o'er the sleeping flowers
Blithe robin came to sing--
"Up, up, my lady snow-drop,
No longer lie in bed;
But dance unto my melody,

And wave your graceful head."
The bulbul woos the red, red rose;

The lark, the heathery dell;
But the robin has the holly-tree,

And the snow-drop's virgin-bell,
The snow-drop timidly looked out;
But all was dim and drear,
Save robin's merry song that sought
Her loneliness to cheer!

And presently the crocus heard

Their greeting, and awoke;

And donned with care her golden robe,
And em'rald-colored cloak.

Then springing from her russet shroud,
Stepped forth to meet the sun,
Who broke the clouds with one bright glance,
And his jocund race begun.

The crocus brought her sisters too,
The purple, pied, and white;
And the redbreast warbled merrily
Above the flow'rets bright.
Oh! the nightingale may love the rose,
The lark the summer's heather;-
But the robin's consort flowers come,
AND LEAVE THE WINTRY HEATHER.

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