But this excellent man did not limit his kindness to dogs: I have already said that benevolence was the habitual motive of his actions. Often when we have travelled together, he has addressed the postilions with the most earnest remonstrances, or threatened them with the loss of their perquisites, for their inhumanity towards a jaded post-horse. On such occasions he jocularly encouraged the doctrine of transmigration of souls; for he would frequently pull down the glass, and call out at the echo of the lash, Ah, you scoundrel! you'll be a horse in t'other country. 6 The pains he took with us as children, to impress upon our infant minds the duty of kindness to animals, have, I hope, produced in us considerable sympathy for their sufferings. Soame Jenyns' Essay on Cruelty to dumb Creatures was one of the earliest books I remember to have received from him; and he omitted no opportunity of illustrating and enforcing such lessons of humanity. EDITOR-L EARLY VIRTUE AND TALENT. (From Evelyn's Memoirs.) 1658. 27 Jan. After six fits of an ague died my son Richard, five years and three days old only, but at that tender age a prodigy for wit and understanding; for beauty of body a very angel; for endowment of mind of incredible and rare hopes. To give only a little taste of some of them, and thereby glory to God: at two years and a half old he could perfectly read any of the English, Latin, French, or Gothic letters, pronouncing the three first languages exactly. He had before the fifth year made considerable advancement in Latin, and knew something of Greek. The number of verses he could recite was prodigious, and what he remembered of the parts of plays, which he would also act. Strange was his apt and ingenious application of fables and morals, for he had read Æsop. He had a wonder ful disposition to mathematics, having by heart divers propositions of Euclid that were read to him in play; and he would make lines and demonstrate them. As to his piety, astonishing were his applica tions of Scripture upon occasion, and his sense of God: he had learned all his catechism early, and understood the historical part of the Bible and New Testament to a wonder; how Christ came to redeem mankind; and how, comprehending these necessaries himself, his godfathers were discharged of their promise. These and the like illuminations, far exceeding his age and experience, considering the prettiness of his address and behaviour, cannot but leave impressions in me at the memory of him. When one told him how many days a Quaker had fasted, he replied that was no wonder, for Christ had said, man should not live by bread alone, but by the Word of God. He would of himself select the most pathetic psalms, and chapters out of Job, to read to his maid during his sickness, telling her when she pitied him, that all God's children must suffer affliction. He declaimed against the vanities of the world before he had seen any. Often he would desire those who came to see him to pray by him; and a year before he fell sick, to kneel and pray with him alone in some corner. How thankfully would he receive admonition!-how soon be reconciled! How indifferent, yet continually cheerful! He would give grave advice to his brother John, bear with his impertinences, and say he was but a child. If he heard of or saw any new thing, he was unquiet till he was told how it was made; he brought to us all such difficulties as he found in books to be expounded. He had learned by heart divers sentences in Latin and Greek, which on occasion he would produce even to wonder. He was all life, all prettiness, far from morose, sullen, or childish, in any thing he said or did. The day before he died he called to me, and in a more serious manner than usual told me that for all I loved him so dearly, I should give my house, land, and all my fine things, to his brother Jack, he should have none of them; and next morning, when he found himself ill, and that I persuaded him to keep his hands in bed, he de-, manded whether he might pray to God with his hands unjoined; and a little after, whilst in great agony, whether he should not offend God by using his holy name so often calling for ease. What shall I say of his frequent pathetical ejaculations uttered of himself:-Sweet Jesus save me, deliver me, pardon my sins, let thine angels receive me! So early knowledge, so much piety and perfection! But thus God, having dressed up a saint fit for himself, would not longer permit him with us, unworthy of the future fruits of this incomparable hopeful blossom. Such a child I never saw! for such a child I bless. God, in whose bosom he is! May I and mine become as this little child, which now follows the child Jesus, that Lamb of God in a white robe, whithersoever he goes; even so, Lord Jesus, let thy will be done! Thou gavest him to us, Thou hast taken him from us; blessed be the name of the Lord! That I had any thing acceptable to thee was from thy grace alone, since from me he had nothing but sin; but that thou hast pardoned! blessed be my God for ever, amen! ADVICE TO THE SEDENTARY. (From Buchan's Domestic Medicine.) Dr. William Buchan, the author of the excellent advice which follows, was born in Roxsburgshire, North Britain, 1729. He was a Fellow of the College of Physicians at Edinburgh, and afterwards settled in London, where he died in 1805, and was buried in the Cloisters of Westminster Abbey. His most popular work was Domestic Medicine;' a book which, during his lifetime, passed through nineteen editions; consisting of no less than 80,000 copies. Dr. Buchan was remarkable for an extraordinary memory, and had so perfecta knowledge of the Bible, that whenever his authority was asked he was able to tell the chapter and verse of any given passage. THOUGH nothing can be more contrary to the nature of man tham a sedentary life, yet this class comprehends by far the greater part of the species. Almost the whole female world, and, in manufacturing countries, the major part of the males, may be reckoned sedentary. Though sedentary employments are necessary, yet there seems to be no reason why any person should be confined for life to these alone. Were such employments intermixed with the more active and laborious, they would never do hurt. It is constant confinement that ruins the health. But it is not want of exercise alone which hurts sedentary people; they likewise suffer from the confined air which they breathe. It is very common to see ten or a dozen tailors, or stay-makers, for example, crowded into one small apartment, where there is hardly room for one person to breathe freely. In this situation they generally continue for many hours at a time, often with the addition of several candles, which tend likewise to waste the air, and render it less fit for respiration. Air that is breathed repeatedly becomes unfit for expanding the lungs. This is one cause of the phthisical coughs, and other complaints of the breast, so incident to sedentary artificers. Even the perspiration from a great number of persons pent up together renders the air unwholesome. The danger from this quarter will be greatly increased, if any of them happen to have bad lungs, or to be otherwise diseased. Many of those who follow sedentary employments are constantly in a bending posture, as shoemakers, tailors, cutlers, &c. Such a situation is extremely hurtful. A bending posture obstructs all the vital motions, and of course must destroy the health. Sedentary artificers ought therefore to stand or sit as erect as the nature of their employments will permit. They should likewise change their posture frequently, and should never sit too long at a time, but leave off work, and walk, ride, run, or do any thing that will promote the vital functions. Sedentary artificers are generally allowed too little time for exercise; yet, short as it is, they seldom employ it properly. A journeyman tailor or weaver, for example, instead of walking abroad for exercise and fresh air, at his hours of leisure, chooses often to spend them in a public-house, or in playing at some sedentary game, by which he generally loses both his time and his money. All sedentary artificers ought to pay the most religious regard to cleanliness. Both their situation and occupations render this highly necessary. Nothing would contribute more to preserve their health, than a strict attention to it; and such of them as neglect it, not only run the hazard of losing health, but of becoming a nuisance to their neighbours. Sedentary people ought to avoid food that is windy or hard of digestion, and should pay the strictest regard to sobriety. A person who works hard without doors will soon throw off a debauch; but one who sits has by no means an equal chance. Hence it often happens that sedentary people are seized with fevers after hard drinking. When such persons feel their spirits low, instead of running to the tavern for relief, they should walk in the fields. This would remove the complaint more effectually than strong liquor, and would never hurt the constitution. Instead of multiplying rules for preserving the health of the sedentary, we shall recommend to them the following general plan; viz. That every person who follows a sedentary employment should cultivate a piece of ground with his own hands, if he can possibly obtain it. This he might dig, plant, sow, and weed at leisure hours, so as to make it both an exercise and amusement, while it produced many of the necessaries of life. After working an hour in a garden, a man will return with more keenness to his employment within doors, than if he had been all the while idle. In a word, exercise without doors, in one shape or another, is absolutely necessary to health. Those who neglect it, though they may for a while drag out life, can hardly be said to enjoy it, Weak and effeminate, they languish for a few years, and soon drop into an untimely grave. THE ENGLISH MONTHS.--MARCH. THERE is an old proverb,- a bushel of March dust is worth a Monarch's ransom.' Our ancestors were careful observers of the influence of the weather upon the operations of husbandry; and in this short sentence they fully expressed the value of a dry March. A month of such weather removes the too great moisture which the rains of February have left us; whilst it mellows the earth for the reception of seed, and enables the farmer to get it in early. A late spring is generally a great blessing; for the succeeding harvest is in most cases abundant. There is little to be apprehended in such seasons from blights and insects; and the swelling buds are not too prematurely brought forward, to be exposed to the severity of those frosts which so commonly render faithless the early promise of the year. The activity which the farmer must exercise in this month, to sow his barley and oats, has an example in the motions of all the animal creation. The rooks are noisily employed in the building and repair of their nests; the fieldfares and woodcocks, whose movements however regular are yet mysterious, return to the countries from which they arrived at the commencement of winter; domestic poultry lay eggs and sit; the wild pigeon cooes in the silent woods; and the thrush, perched on some leafless tree, is amongst the first to hail the returning spring with his powerful and melodious notes. One of the most delightful appearances of the season is the sportiveness of the lambs, in the sunshiny days; and a no less pleasing indication of returning warmth, is the coming forth of bees from their wintry hives, to remind us that the honied flowers are beginning to shew their heads again. The little crocus, which in this month is so generally seen in our gardens, and whose sparkling yellow so often studs the gay border before the cottage door, has always appeared to us a flower of peculiar cheerfulness and beauty. It is almost the first of these bright ornaments of our dwellings. But in the hedges, towards the end of the month, two of the most lovely and fragrant of flowers offer themselves to our admiration. The early violet, commonly called the March violet, gives the most delightful of all scents; and from its humble and obscure retreat in some weedy bank, affords a perfume to the air that passes over it; while the primroses are seen sprinkled over the grassy slopes, peeping forth with a delicate lustre from their green leaves. There is another common flower, and a much neglected one, which this month produces; the daffodil: Shakspeare, in a charming description of flowers, enumerates daffodils, That come before the swallow dares, and take The winds of March with beauty?? " Too many of us pass by these and other delights of nature without observation; and as many, we fear, having noticed their beauties, forget to associate them with the idea of the Great Author of all that is beautiful, and all that is useful. We cannot illustrate the right feeling which this and every season should excite in a more appropriate or more pleasing manner, than in the words of an elegant little song: How cheerful, along the gay mead, The myrtles that shade the gay bowers, Shall man, the great master of all, The Lord, who such wonders can raise, My lips shall incessantly praise; EDITOR K |