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his original treatise on the small-pox, Sydenham dwells much upon the salutary influence of cold on those worst and most aggravated forms of that disease, which were sometimes brought on by the pernicious use of the heating and stimulating treatment then in vogue. This new method, however, was mistrusted by the faculty generally, who preferred following the ancient course. Radcliffe was free from the prejudices of his brethren; and one of the first fruits he reaped from his early determination to leave the trammels of authority, and willingly admit the light of recent discovery, was the most remarkable success of his practice in this very disease, in which he strictly followed the precepts laid down by Sydenham.

The small-pox was raging in the city and neighbourhood of Oxford, with great fatality; and, instead of stoving up his patients, as was done by other practitioners, Radcliffe employed the new method-exposed the sick to the free access of air, gave them cooling emulsions, and employed other approved antiphlogistic remedies, and thus rescued more than one hundred from the jaws of death.

His success in the case of Lady Spencer, who appeared to be sinking under a complication of disorders, further spread his fame, and brought him into fashion among that lady's numerous connexions. So that, before he had practised two years, there were few families of credit, within reach of Oxford, who had not occasion to appreciate his professional skill.

Having received some affront, he quitted Lincoln college, and resigned his fellowship, but continued to reside in Oxford till his thirty-fourth year, when he removed to London, and settled in Bow-street, Covent Garden; there he had not been established more than a year, before he rose to the head of his profession, and received in daily fees the sum of 20 guineas. To this rapid success the pleasantry of his discourse, and his ready wit, are said greatly to have contributed; many even feigned themselves ill, for the pleasure of having a few minutes' conversation with the facetious doctor.

In 1686, he was appointed physician to the Princess Anne of Denmark; but his characteristic prudence prevented his ever being carried away by the éclat of royal patronage. During the triumphant progress of the Revolution, he was urged to accompany his distinguished patient to Nottingham, whither she went with the Bishop of London, there to remain till the storm should blow over; but, though sympathizing with the movement, he would not compromise himself to a cause involved in such risk, but made his numerous patients an excuse for remaining in London. And, even when William was fairly established on the throne, he declined the appointment of king's physician, with a salary higher than had yet been given to the office. The king, from gratitude, and admiration for the skill he had shown in the treatment of two of his foreign attendants, Mr. Bentinck (afterwards Earl of Portland) and Mr. Zulestein (Earl of Rochford), had presented him with 500 guineas at the time of offering his further patronage. The caution and worldly wisdom of Radcliffe were here again exhibited; for though he accepted the present, he begged to decline the appointment, considering that the settlement of the crown was then only in its infancy, and that accidents might occur to disturb its security. Nor did he lose by his refusal : for the weak condition of the king's health, who had, from his childhood, suffered from frequent attacks of asthma, required his constant professional assistance; so that it was said, that, one year with another, for the first eleven years of the reign of King William, Radcliffe received more than 600 guineas for his attendance upon his majesty, exclusive of what he received from the great officers of the Court.

These may serve as specimens of his prudence, and the following story, which may be best related in the words of his biographer, Pettis, affords a good example of his humour :

"It will not be much out of the way to insert a diverting passage between Sir Godfrey Kneller, the king's chief face painter, and the doctor, since it happened near this time; and, though not altogether so advantageous to the doctor's memory as the generality of his sarcastic replies, yet will be of use to bring in a very happy turn of wit from him that speaks the rejoinder to it. The doctor's dwelling-house, as has been said before, was in Bow-street, Covent Garden, whereunto belonged a very convenient garden, that was contiguous to another at the back of it, appertaining to Sir Godfrey, which was extremely curious and inviting, from the many exotic plants, and the variety of flowers and greens which it abounded with. Now, as one wall divided both inclosures, and the doctor had some reason, from his intimacy with the knight, to think he would not give a denial to any reasonable request, so he took the freedom, when he was one day in company with the latter, after extolling his fine parterre and choice collection of herbs, flowers, &c., to desire the liberty of having a door made, for a free intercourse with both gardens, but in such a manner, as should not be inconvenient to either family. Sir Godfrey, who was and is a gentleman of extraordinary courtesy and humanity, very readily gave his consent; but the doctor's servants, instead of being strict observers of the terms of agreement, made such a havoc amongst his hortulanary curiosities, that Sir Godfrey was out of all patience, and found himself obliged, in a very becoming manner, to advertise their master of it, with his desires to him, to admonish them for the forbearance of such insolencies. Yet, notwithstanding this complaint, the grievance continued unredressed, so that the person aggrieved found himself under a necessity of letting him, that ought to make things easy, know, by one of his servants, that he should be obliged to brick up the door, in case of his complaints proving ineffectual. To this, the doctor, who is very often in a choleric temper, and, from the success of his practice, imagined every one under an obligation of bearing with him, returned answer, that Sir Godfrey might even do what he thought fit, in relation to the door, so that he did but refrain from painting it; alluding to his employment, than whom none was a more exquisite master of. Thereupon, the footman, after some hesitation in the delivery of his message, and several commands from his master to give it him, word for word, told him as above. 'Did my very good friend, Doctor Radcliffe, say so?' cried Sir Godfrey; 'go you back to him, and, after presenting my service to him, tell him that I can take anything from him but his physic!' A reply more biting than true, though allowable from what he had received from the aggressor; so, if the one was at the height of excellence in his unequalled skill in physic, the other had attained to as consummate an experience in the art and mystery of limning."

At the close of the year 1689, when he had gained additional credit and fame, by a cure he had performed upon the Duke of Beaufort, he was called in to a consultation with the king's physicians, Doctors Bidloo and Lawrence, and was so successful as to suggest means which speedily so far restored him to health, that he was enabled to join the army in Ireland, and gain the victory of the Boyne.

In 1691, the young Prince William, Duke of Gloucester, son of the Prince and Princess of Denmark, (afterwards queen Anne,) was taken ill of fainting fits, a complaint which had been fatal to several of their children, and his life was despaired of by the physicians. Radcliffe being sent for, first begged that the queen and princess, who should both be present, would rely solely upon him, and allow the use of no other prescriptions but his; and then, by the employment of a few outward and inward applications, restored the little patient to such a state of health, that he never had anything like a delirium from that time till the day of his death.

Queen Mary, who constantly visited the child, was so

pleased with Radcliffe, that she ordered her chamber- | lain to present him with 1000 guineas. His fame was now so great, that everybody flocked for his advice, and it is recorded that his neighbour, Dr. Gibbons, received 1000l. per annum from the overflow of patients who were not able to get admission to the great physician of the day. Hitherto, everything had prospered with him; but in the year 1692, his fortune was chequered with a considerable loss. Among other acquaintances, he had contracted a considerable familiarity with Bet-attend the Earl of Albemarle, a great favourite of his terton, the famous tragedian, and at his persuasion was induced to risk 5000l. in a venture to the East Indies: the ship sailed and had a favourable passage, when, on her return, she was taken by a Spanish vessel, and all her cargo, valued at 120,000l. captured by the enemy. This loss ruined the poor player; but Radcliffe received the disastrous intelligence at the Bull's Head Tavern, in Clare-market, (where he was enjoying himself with several persons of the first rank,) with great composure; desiring his companions not to interrupt the circulation of the glass, "for that he had no more to do but to go up so many pair of stairs to make himself whole again." Nor, it is said, did this pecuniary loss check the exercise of his liberal spirit, for it was in the course of this year that he contributed a considerable sum towards the repairs and embellishment of University college.

His "liberal spirit" is, indeed, one of the pleasantest features of his character. Many instances are recorded of his generous help towards those whose opinions he differed from. During the reign of King James, his friend, Obadiah Walker, of University college, himself a convert to Rome, had used all his endeavours to persuade Radcliffe to follow the same course. Though he rejected his friend's counsels, he continued his friendship: when Walker, after the Revolution, fell into poverty and distress, he allowed him to the day of his death a very handsome competency, and contributed largely to his funeral expenses. He also gave, through the Bishop of Norwich, large sums towards the relief of the non-juring clergy, and in the same year (1704), he settled 50l. a year for ever on the Society for the Propagation of the Gospel. Soon after, he sent, through the Bishop of Rochester, 3001. for the Episcopal clergy of Scotland, then undergoing great privations, though he had previously argued in favour of posthumous benefactions, with the bishop, who had dwelt much on the satisfaction which well-disposed men feel on seeing the result of their good deeds in their life time. But to return to his medical

career.

In the month of December, 1694, Queen Mary was seized with the small-pox, and her sickness assumed the most alarming symptoms. Her majesty's physicians were at their wits end, and it was decided by the Privy Council to send for Radcliffe, to avert, if possible, the calamity with which the nation was threatened. At first sight of the prescriptions, without having even entered the chamber of the royal patient, he exclaimed with his characteristic rudeness, that her majesty "was a dead woman, for it was impossible to do any good in her case, where remedies had been given that were so contrary to the nature of the distemper: yet he would en- | deavour to do all that lay in him to give her some case." In a short time there were some faint hopes of recovery, but his efforts were ultimately in vain, and the queen died. Some few months after this unhappy event, the doctor, who till then had kept himself in the good graces of the Princess Anne of Denmark, forfeited them, as it is said, owing to his too great addiction to the bottle, and after the following uncourtly manner. Her royal highness, being indisposed, caused him to be sent for; in answer to which he promised to come to St. James's soon after; as he did not, however, make his appearance, a messenger was again despatched after him, to inform him that the princess was extremely ill, and to describe the nature of her indisposition, When Radcliffe heard the symptoms detailed, he swore "that her highness's

distemper was nothing but the vapours, and that she was in as good a state of health as any woman breathing, could she but believe it." No skill or reputation could excuse this rudeness and levity; he was in consequence dismissed from his attendance on the princess, and Dr. Gibbons succeeded him in the care of her health. His credit with the king remained, notwithstanding undiminished, of which a splendid proof was given in the following year, by his being sent for to go abroad to majesty, and who had a considerable command in the army during the campaign which ended with the taking of Namur. Radcliffe remained in the camp a week only, was successful in the treatment of his patient, and received from King William 12001.; from Lord Albemarle 400 guineas and a diamond ring; he was offered also the dignity of a baronet, which he begged to decline, on the plea of having no children to inherit the title. In 1697, after the king's return from Loo, having ratified the peace of Ryswick, his majesty found himself much indisposed at his palace at Kensington, and the advice of Radcliffe was had recourse The symptoms of the disease were dropsical, and, though not treated very properly by the other physicians, nor considered by them as threatening any immediate danger, were looked upon by him as of a formidable nature. The interview which Radcliffe had with his majesty is described by Pettis in the following words: "The king, when the doctor was admitted, was reading Sir Roger L'Estrange's new version of Æsop's Fables, and told him, that he had once more sent for him to try the effects of his great skill, notwithstanding he had been told by his body physicians, who were not sensible of his inward decay, that he might yet live many years, and would very speedily recover.' Upon which the doctor, having put some interrogations to the king, very readily asked leave to turn to a fable in the book before him, which would let the king know how he had been treated, and read it to him in these words :

to.

'Pray, sir, how do you find youself? says the doctor to his patient. Why, truly, says the patient, I have had a most violent sweat. Oh! the best sign in the world, quoth the doctor. And then a little while after he is at it again, with a, Pray how do you find your body! Alas! says the other, I have just now such a terrible fit of horror and shaking upon me! Why, this is all as it should be, says the physician, it shows a mighty strength of nature. And then he comes over him the third time with the same question again: Why, I am all swelled, says t'other, as if I had a dropsy. Best of all, quoth the doctor, and goes his way. Soon after this, comes one of the sick man's friends to him, with the same question, how he felt himself! Why, truly, so well, says he, that I am e'en ready to die of I know not how many good signs and tokens.'

"May it please your majesty, yours and the sick man's case is very much the same," cries Radcliffe; "you are buoyed up with hopes that your malady will soon be driven away, by persons that are not apprised of means to do it, and know not the true cause of your ailment: but I must be plain with you, and tell you, that, in all probability, if your majesty will adhere to my prescrip tions, it may be in my power to lengthen out your life for three or four years, but beyond that time nothing in physic can protract it, for the juices of your stomach are all vitiated; your whole mass of blood is corrupted, and your nutriment for the most part turns to water. However, if your majesty will forbear making long visits to the Earl of Bradford, (where the king was wont to drink very hard,) I'll try what can be done to make you live easily, though I cannot venture to say I can make you live longer than I have told you." He then left a receipt behind him, which was so happy in its effects as to enable the king not only to make a progress in the western parts of his kingdom, but to go abroad, and divert himself at his palace at Loo, in Holland.

(To be continued.)

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roses which bloomed on her place of rest. I stole the THE FESTIVAL OF ALL-SAINTS' DAY.1 heart. There I perceived an inscription, affecting, In the south of Germany, the old and venerable custom flower, and hastened to the gates, bearing it on my It ran thus: Respect the of adorning the graves in the burying grounds on the I trembled involuntarily, confirst and second day of November with garlands and simple, and touching. lamps, is still kept up. It is an affecting festival which property of the dead l years was so strong, that I was on the point of returning the survivors prepare for their deceased relations and scious of my robbery; and the pious belief of my childish friends. On those days the whole population of the the rose to the place whence I had taken it. Oh, that town assemble in the churchyard, and gaze with melancholy recollection, or joyful confidence in the future, I had done so ! but false shame was triumphant, and a emotion. I returned home, indulged myself for some on the adorned death-feast, and pray, while the priest, species of free-thinking overcame the pure childish using the requisite forms, draws from the holy well the minutes with the rare beauty of the lovely flower, which sacred flood with which he is to sprinkle the graves did not appear to have grown in a hot-house, but in the in order to consecrate them. Death, then garlanded with flowers, becomes a friendly teacher; the lamps fields by the Arno. I then placed it carefully in a glass "The evening passed merrily; I returned to my and tapers are images of the everlasting light, and the of water, and left the inn to seek a friend. passing from the joys of summer and autumn to the lodgings late, and quickly yielded myself to sleep, in quiet advent time, involves a very peculiar preparation. which jovial toasts and cheerful jests seemed to sport This festival is celebrated no where so beautifully as at Munich. On the morning of All-Saints' Day, the around me. But these pleasant dreams soon disappeared, families greet each other over the resting-places of those and softly and awfully the spectacle of the death-festival they loved, arranging, adorning, and praying in faithful passed before me as in a magic-lantern; the grave on in black, all rose before me, and in my dream I again hope, or weeping in sad remembrance. These hours which I had stood, the field of flowers as though veiled alone can be devoted to the feelings of the heart, for at owls, and, on reaching home again, threw myself exnoon the gates of the cemetery are opened to the public, stole the rose, escaped from the grounds pursued by who, less interested, though not less penetrated with emoa lovely form, enveloped in a linen shroud, passed tion, wander through the large and well-planted garden. hausted on the bed. Suddenly the door opened, and There are but few signs of mourning to be seen. Light and life reign every where; the loveliest flowers and through, glided up to my bed, and I shudderingly recogI trembled with horror. Where is my rose?' asked plants bloom on the graves; cypresses and weeping wil.nized it as the form of her whose property I had violated. lows wave and rustle in the breeze; and, if any thing reminds us of the chillness of death, or the gloom that the form with unspeakable sadness, and her features, 'What have I done to thee, that thou shouldst rob we dread, it is the lifeless forms of the hired male and in spite of her beauty, were anxious and threatening. female grave-watchers, who stand near the mounds, to tend the lamps and flowers, mechanically repeating their me? Is it thus thou honourest the dead? Where is rosary, contemplating sullenly and indifferently the my rose?' Incapable of speaking a word, I stretched was in water. The figure motioned for me to rise. I imposing spectacle around them, and longing for the out my arm, and pointed to the window where the rose was involuntarily, but violently, drawn to the rose, evening, when the reward which has been promised them is to be paid. In the evening these repugnant which I seized, and the spirit flew with me through the All around was desolate; figures leave the garden, but they take away with them the cemetery, to her grave. the flowers and lights, and the feast is at an end. The window, into the cold night air, far over the town, to variegated lamps are hung up again in the rooms, and the flowers and plants are taken to the gardeners' hot-houses, to the milliner's shop-counter, or to the boudoir of some lovely maiden. Such is life!

I was Speaking of this festival, a story occurs to me. once at this death-feast, and had just turned from a mound watered by the tears of a numerous family, to go into the more desolate parts of the grounds, where the watchers are more thinly scattered, and where only individual mourners are to be seen. Suddenly I stood before a friend whom I had not seen for many years. With a pale countenance and hollow eyes, he leaned upon an urn, and he shuddered like a criminal when My greeting was short but sincere; I addressed him. and my next question was,with you: does your bride sleep here?" He shook his A maiden rests here, who, in the bloom head and said, of her youth, sank into the grave, swept away by the A maiden whom I never knew, and yet a bitter enemy, has robbed me of all my Place yourself beside me on this hillock, and

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"What is the matter

Many years ago, business led me through this town, at this very time of the year, and I saw the festival that they are celebrating to-day. At that time this grave was newly made, and as abundantly adorned with flowers, as it is now destitute of them. This was natural, for the love and grief of a mother had adorned it with roses and branches, but love and grief soon laid the fond mother by the side of her only daughter. Now, no one cares for the beautiful dead as they did at that time, when all the town spoke of her, and I, a stranger, was curious to see her grave, and was tempted, in remembrance of her early departed charms, to take one of the

(1) From the Note Book of a Traveller.

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not a human sound was to be heard; but from all the streamed in sparkling abundance, and from every graves coloured flowers were nodding; lights and torches mound the dead were rising and bathing their heads in the brightness of the consecrated flames, in the fragrance of the flowers, and in the blessed dew that

falls at midnight from heaven.

"The maiden s grave alone was dark and forsaken, and no flower blossomed on it.

"At a sign from the shadow, I scratched up the dry earth with my fingers, and planted the rose. Instantly the hill around flamed with the most burning colours, and the stars rocked themselves in the newly-sprung 6 flowers. So, it is well,' said the figure, in a hollow The hill opened, voice; but now thou art mine!' a light flake of snow, drew me irresistibly down with the grave yawned on me, and the corpse, sinking like her. The whole weight of the earth rushed upon me. Oppressed by the clods of earth, choked by the embraces of the ghost, I lost all consciousness-and I awoke, and found myself in bed, the bright sun shining full upon me, and with a sigh of relief, I set the past down entirely as a dream. But, as this dream seemed to become more and more impressed on my memory,

rose to convince myself that I had really only dreamt, but, on going to the window to look at my rose, and to breathe its fragrance, it had disappeared. The glass was empty; the window was firmly closed, and the door was bolted. All inquiries after the flower were in vain. No one had seen it, no one had taken it, and I was obliged to conceal my anguish, in order not to be laughed at by the irreligious, or shunned by the religious. But since that time my rest is gone, and from hour to hour I await the irreconcileable enemy, who will take me away to punish me for the violence I practised on her grave."

Of course I said everything I could to assuage his melancholy-to banish his fear; but rooted prejudices are not easily taken from the mind. I proposed to him to accompany me to a merry company in vain; he had been to none for years, he said. I wished to carry him to a concert; it disgusted him. At length I recollected that I had been invited to a little party which was to be given that evening by an acquaintance of mine, who some days previously had married a young girl of obscure rank, but honest, pious, and industrious, and who, therefore, appeared likely to make my honest Werner happy. He had frequently shown me a variety of kind offices, and appeared sin cerely attached to me.

My friend accompanied me to the frugal repast of these good people, and, at their patriarchal table, at which Werner's aged mother presided, like a household goddess, the mourner enjoyed an hour's peace; but the evil spirit came over him again, and, scarcely bidding the company farewell, he flew to his lodging, again to bury himself with his melancholy.

RAMBLES IN BELGIUM.

No. V.-LOUVAIN AND WATERLOO. Ir was good fortune which decided my taking a vigilante to Louvain, as it enabled me to see a much more pleasing part of the country than can be found on the line of railway from Brussels to Mechlin, and so on to

Louvain: this latter is also a circuitous route.

These vigilantes are very convenient vehicles, and in appearance are something like the old hackney coaches, and something like the London street cabs, partaking of the nature of both, and yet preserving an individuality of their own. A party of four of us was taken to Louvain, a distance of sixteen miles, for nine francs. || The road is much more picturesque the nearer it ap proaches Tervueren, being well wooded and hilly: not far off a mansion was to be seen of noble dimensions, which the driver said was a present from the Flemish nation to the Prince of Orange, since ascended to the Werner and his family naturally asked the cause of Dutch throne; now, of course, his no longer. Everythis mournful frame of mind, and I answered, "It is body had so bepraised the Hôtel de Ville,-every one because it is so mournful, that I would not willingly had said, when admiring the glorious pile at Brussels, disturb the joys of this marriage festival by relating" Oh! this is nothing, compared to the one at Louits cause" and, in order to divert all curiosity from vain;" all books of travel and works on art were so the subject, Werner begged his young wife to show me unanimous in giving it the pre-eminence, and my exthe beautiful bridal garland she had worn at her wed-pectations were so greatly excited, that I must fairly ding. She brought out the box, and, with a blush of pleasure, she showed me the ornament, woven of fresh myrtle and artificial orange-blossoms.

This

Deeply and securely buried among the trembling leaves and stalks, I soon detected a flower unusual in a bridal garland-a rose. Werner smiled, as I pointed it out, and said, "That is a whim of my own. faded flower, which has been preserved for years, is the foundation of our domestic happiness, the first pledge of our love; and therefore I took it from my pocketbook, and placed it, like a religious relic, in the bridal wreath. It is just five years ago to-day, when my Anna, who was then a poor servant-maid in the inn opposite, entered my shop. I had often seen the charming girl, but had never ventured to say how much I was attached to her. But on that evening she wore in her bosom this rose, almost shaming the blushes on her cheeks; and with this rose I opened my conversation. I spoke with courage and fire, confessed my affection, obtained Anna's in return, and received from her, as a pledge of it, this rose. Heaven be praised! it was a talisman which constantly bound us together, and has united us at last at the altar."

"It is most curious," said I, "as a rose has caused your happiness, so also a rose has caused my friend's misery."

I then related his story, and I remarked the lovely Anna first become red, then pale, and at last she interrupted me "I recollect your friend now, and I acknowledge, with repentance, that my indiscretion has, perhaps, been the cause of his misfortunes. He lived in our inn; and in his room, which I arranged very late on the evening of All-Saints' Day, I found this magnificent flower, which allured and tempted me so much, that I took it away, convinced that the young gentleman would not think much about a rose which he had plucked the day before. It turned out differently. The landlady questioned us all severely about the lost flower; but could I confess its fate, without at the same time confessing my little theft, and my love to Werner?"

I started up, embraced Werner and Anna, and that very night I brought back my friend, who suddenly saw his anguish fall from him, like scales from the eyes; and, becoming instantly a new man, he thoroughly enjoyed the punch that we drank to the memory of that glorified being, whose grave had certainly caused my friend some unhappy hours, but had also founded the blessed happiness of a whole family.

confess, when the driver of the vigilante deposited me beside it, I felt disappointed.

Although distinctly to this day preferring the solid magnificence of the Brussels hall, yet after few pausings, contemplations, looks and re-looks, so to speak, I was able to appreciate the beauties of the building before me. To say that it is profusely decorated from basement to roof affords little assistance to the imagination of the reader. It has three tiers of windows, with a gal lery above; the roof is lofty, and has many small windows in it, rising one above another; there are three turrets on each side, with pinnacles, the centre of which are very high. All executed in very elaborate and florid Gothic style. It was erected in the middle of the fifteenth century, and is said to have cost 32,900 guilders. Internally there is not much deserving attention; there are some quaint old pictures and tapestry of no great value. It was pleasing to find that the townspeople appreciated the beauties of their famous "Lion;" for, whilst making some purchases at three shops, the three different vendors, who appeared certain that I was on my travels, were all loud and magniloquent in its praise,-one going so far as to request Monsieur to view it from all points of the compass, and to enter a wood near the town, where it might be viewed in a framework of leaves; it was then so superb that Monsieur would have a more exalted idea than he would be able to attain in any other position. Louvain was full of priests, promenading the streets in every direction they have an imposing appearance in their long flowing black robes and three-cornered hats, though their gait is not particularly elegant or graceful, or their pace at all conspicuous in its solemnity. There was one of them whose figure was of a commanding height, and whose face was the very reflex of all good humours. I met him subsequently at Liege at the railway.

There are two descriptions of beer brewed in this town, which beverage is drunk in large quantities by the Belgians; it is somewhat difficult to say which of the two is the worst. The commoner sort is called Peetermans; the superior, the "bière blanche." In this latter wheat is used. The flavour of both sorts is most intolerable: but it would seem, by the accounts given of its sale, to be highly relished by the "braves Belges." There is truly no accounting for taste, and if this often quoted apothegm were at all likely to be forgotten, or out of date, a good draught of Peetermans, or the "bière blanche," would soon revive its memory. Yet,

strange to say, Louvain has high repute for its breweries | the natural level of the plain is enough to raise the and its beer; and I question much if Messrs. Barclay spleen of a Briton born and bred. So disappointed did and Perkins dare venture a rivalship with Messrs. I feel, that I could not help saying, when I dismissed the Renier and Hambrouk in the Low Countries. The guide, that a man might as well pay to be shown the cathedral of St. Peter having been especially mentioned sea in the bay of Trafalgar, as to give his douceur for by some French friends as possessing some paintings of visiting Waterloo as it now is. great merit and value, I entered, prepared fully to admire one of Hans Hemling's works which decorates the altar, and a few others in the side aisles, etc. Here again disappointment succeeded expectation. It is in Bruges where Hemling has acquired his title to artistic glories. In that hospital where he lay sick and penitent may be found his finest productions. Louvain was formerly a place of considerable importance, and afforded a subsistence to many hundreds of weavers. Now how is the whole place altered!-streets almost desolate, houses uninhabited, decay and silence reigning in the once busy mart; its commerce, as compared with bygone years, reduced to mere nothing; so it is, the palace of one generation becomes the ruin of another: and it has often occurred to me, how fine a subject for romance or epic poem might be furnished from this change in the destinies of the old cities of the world. Flanders could yield too many an illustration for so mournful a

theme.

It was in Louvain than an insurrection broke out in 1380 against the Duke of Brabant, which produced consequences of no small moment to England. It induced a large body of weavers to emigrate and settle amongst the English artisans ; and this simple circumstance laid the foundation of our woollen trade. My adieux to Louvain were made after I had inspected a very well laid out cemetery near the town, and enjoyed some more last views of the Hôtel de Ville, and then another vigilante was at hand to convey me to Waterloo.

It is of course expected of every Englishman to approach this battle plain with a doubly distilled mixture of gallant enthusiasm and patriotic devotion. Now, when we got to Quatre Bras, the wood was all gone; there was scarcely a solitary tree near the place. The forest of Soigné is conspicuous for a number of spruce-looking tall young beech and elm trees. The Chateau of Hougomont is fast losing its identity; new buildings are creeping up all round it; very little remains of its former state. The field where the great action of our time was fought is remarkable for possessing a great sand-hill, on which is deposited in triumphant glory the Belgian Lion,-magnificent trophy truly to the " braves Belges!" Whichever way the eye turns, it is invariably directed to this monstrous absurdity. And this is Waterloo ! really and literally Waterloo !!-this the ground where a British hero won his proudest laurels, and where one of the greatest of human comets learnt the use of his heels!!! In vain the guide pointed to this part as the scene of a particular skirmish; and to that as the distinguishing vantage ground of such and such a battalion. In vain; for I could as soon fancy it all to have taken place on Hampstead Heath or Salisbury Plain. Look where I would, that horrid, stupid sand-hill, with its presiding genius, would intrude upon the sight, till I began to wonder why it did not roar. An orchard, with an old, worn out, battered gate, bearing impress of a cannonade, was the only spot I could hit upon as evidence palpable of the scene I had so often heard and read of. So I let the guide wander on and talk till there was every prospect of his telling the same tale ten times over. There was something about the place so utterly destitute of its associations, that no ideality would or could overcome. Corn was ripening and flax was growing all around; and why should it not be so? Why, indeed? But again that most offensive sand-hill-why should that be so? Why obtrude that tasteless monstrosity to scare her Britannic Majesty's lieges? To see the golden ears waving was all very well, symbolical of the happy peace which has survived those fearful scenes of carnage and desolation. But to behold that vile work of Art rising to disturb and destroy

ON SOUND AND THE SENSE OF HEARING. WHEN the reader is informed that all sounds result from vibrations, produced in an elastic body, and propagated through the air to the car, it may not unnaturally occur to him to ask what is the cause of the different kinds of sound: what, for instance, is the difference between a noise and a musical tone.

An investigation of this subject has led to the curious conclusion, that, when a body vibrates with considerable rapidity and uniformity, a musical tone is produced; but if the vibrations be unequal among themselves, some being slower than others, the resulting sound is appreciated by the ear, not as a tone, but as a mere noise. When a wheeled carriage is passing over the stones of the street, each projecting stone with which the wheels come in contact receives a blow, and to a certain degree vibrates in consequence; but the stone has so little elasticity, that the resulting vibrations are not so regular and equable as to form a musical tone; nor are the successive percussions of the wheels against different stones so equal-timed or "isochronous" as to yield such a tone. Again, when the teeth of a saw work against a piece of wood, the successive contacts of the teeth with the wood are too unequal in their occurrence for the production of a musical tone. A file, working against a piece of metal, produces a sound approaching more nearly to a tone, partly because the teeth are finer, and because the substance is more perfectly elastic than wood.

Now in order to induce a belief that this isochronism of vibration occurs during the production of a musical tone, we may refer to the action of a common pendulum, or even a ball hung from a hook by a piece of string, and made to oscillate. We shall find that any one such pendulum will perform its oscillations in almost precisely the same length of time, whether the extent of the oscillation be great or small. If the pendulum or the ball have to pass through a larger arc, it moves proportionably quicker, whereby the path is gone over in the same time as a smaller arc. So, in the various musical instruments, the elasticity of the vibrating body is in general so equable, that the rapid

vibrations to which we refer succeed each other after equal intervals of time. The parchment of a drum or a tambourine, the string of a violin or harp, the column of air in a flute or horn, the metal of a triangle or cymbals, however they may be excited to action, and however they may differ in quality of tone,

all make their vibrations in an isochronous manner, and yield musical tones. The different qualities of the tones thus yielded are attributable partly to the material of which the instrument is made, and partly to the manner in which the vibrations are excited. Although the piano-forte, the harp, the guitar, the mandolin, and the violin, consist essentially of stretched cords, yet it is easy to distinguish the kind of tone belonging to each; and we may notice the following

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