THE BOOK OF CURIOSITIES

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GROTTO DEL CANI.
[p. 446.]

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Engraved for the Book of Curiosities.
[p. 877.]

THE

BOOK OF CURIOSITIES:

CONTAINING

TEN THOUSAND

WONDERS AND CURIOSITIES

OF

NATURE AND ART;

AND OF

Remarkable and Astonishing PLACES, BEINGS, ANIMALS, CUSTOMS,
EXPERIMENTS, PHENOMENA, etc., of both Ancient
and Modern Times, on all Parts of the GLOBE: comprising
Authentic Accounts of the most WONDERFUL
FREAKS of NATURE and ARTS of MAN.

BY THE REV. I. PLATTS.

FIRST AMERICAN EDITION.

COMPLETE IN ONE VOLUME.

PHILADELPHIA:
PUBLISHED BY LEARY & GETZ.
1854.

CONTENTS.

Abderites, or inhabitants of Abdera, curious account of, [45]
Abstinence, wonders of, [67]
Act of faith, [638]
Adansonia; or, African calabash tree, [378]
Agnesi, Maria Gaetana, account of, [120]
Agrigentum, in Sicily, ruins of, [540]
Air, its pressure and elasticity, [839]
Alarm bird, [243]
Alexandria, buildings and library of, [549]
Alhambra, [559]
Alligators, [164]
American natural history, [182]
Anagrams, [450]
Andes, [415]
Androides, [701]
Anger, surprising effects of, [82]
Animalcules, [357]
Animal generation, curiosities respecting, [139]
Animals, formation of, [142]
Animals, preservation of, [144]
Animals, destruction of, [150]
Animal reproductions, [154]
Animals and plants, winter sleep of, [808]
Animals, remarkable strength of affection in, [184]
Animals, surprising instances of sociality in, [185]
Animals, unaccountable faculties possessed by some, [187]
Animals, remarkable instances of fasting in, [189]
Animal flower, [392]
Anthropophagi, or men-eaters, account of, [75]
Ants, curiosities of, [290]
Ants, green, [311]
Ants, white, or termites, [301]
Ant, lion, [312]
Ants, visiting, [312]
Aphis, curiosities respecting, [331]
Aqueducts, remarkable, [795]
Arc, Joan of, [927]
Ark of Noah, [582]
Artificer, unfortunate, [745]
Artificial figure to light a candle, [830]
Asbestos, [402]
Athos, mount, [423]
Attraction, examples of, [837]
Augsburg, curiosities of, [576]
Aurora borealis, [684]
Automaton, description of, [700]
B
Babylon, [557]
Bacon flitch, custom at Dunmow, Essex, [605]
Balbeck, ancient ruins of, [538]
Bannian tree, [374]
Baptism, a curious one, [642]
Baratier, John Philip, premature genius of, [125]
Barometer, rules for predicting the weather by it, [864]
Beards, remarks concerning, [31]
Beaver, description of, [156]
Beavers, habitations of the, [158]
Bee, the honey, [265]
Bees, wild, curiosities of, Clothier Bee, Carpenter Bee, Mason Bee, Upholsterer Bee, Leaf-cutter Bee, [277], [278], [279], [280]
Bees, account of an idiot-boy and, [283]
Bees, Mr. Wildman’s curious exhibitions of, explained, [283]
Bells, baptism of, [639]
Benefit of clergy, origin and history of, [623]
Bird of Paradise, [230]
Bird, singular account of one inhabiting a volcano in Guadalope, [246]
Bird-catching fish, [196]
Bird-catching, curious method of, [260]
Birds, method of preserving, [865]
Birds, hydraulic, [713]
Birds, song of, [261]
Birds’ nests, [251]
Bisset, Samuel, the noted animal instructor, [124]
Bletonism, [95]
Blind clergyman of Wales, [903]
Blind persons, astonishing acquisitions made by some, [46]
Blind Jack of Knaresborough, [900]
Blood, circulation of, [24]
Blunders, book of, [761]
Boa Constrictor, [217]
Boat-fly, [342]
Body, human, curiosities of the, [13]
Bolea, Monte, [418]
Books, curious account of the scarcity of, [757]
Borrowdale, [458]
Bottles, to uncork, [836]
Boverick’s curiosities, [713]
Bowthorpe oak, [382]
Bread-fruit tree, [372]
Bread, old, curious account of, [807]
Brine, to ascertain the strength of, [839]
Brown, Simon, and his curious dedication to queen Caroline, [108]
Bunzlau curiosities, [714]
Buonaparte, principal events in the life of, [126]
Burning spring in Kentucky, [493]
Burning and hot springs, [494], [495], [496], [497]
Burning, extraordinary cures by, [792]
Burning-glasses, [717]

Bustard, the great, [243]
Butterflies, beauty and diversities of, [344]
Butterflies, to take an impression of their wings, [866]
C
Camera obscura, to make, [830]
Candiac, John Lewis, account of, [113]
Candlemas-day, [632]
Cannon, extraordinary, [807]
Cards, origin of, [767]
Carrier, or courier pigeon, [244]
Carthage, ancient grandeur of, [542]
Case, John, celebrated quack doctor, [113]
Catching a hare, curious custom respecting, [601]
Caterpillar, [219]
Caterpillar-eaters, [220]
Cave of Fingal, [452]
Cave near Mexico, [457]
Centaurs and Lapithæ, [785]
Chameleon, particulars respecting, [175]
Changeable flower, [387]
Cheese-mite, curiosities respecting, [358]
Chemical illuminations, [844]
Chick, formation of in the egg, [249]
Child, extraordinary arithmetical powers of a, [88]
Chiltern hundreds, [634]
China, great wall of, [579]
Chinese, funeral ceremonies of the, [610]
Christmas-boxes, origin of, [633]
Cinchona, or Peruvian bark, curious effects of, [390]
Clepsydra, [706]
Clock-work, extraordinary pieces of, [704]
Clouds, electrified, terrible effects of, [656]
Coal-pit, visit to one, [469]
Cocoa-nut tree, [371]
Coins of the kings of England, [814]
Cold, surprising effects of extreme, [659]
Colossus, [570]
Colours, experiments on, [867]
Colours, incapacity of distinguishing, [56]
Combustion of the human body by the immoderate use of spirits, [97]
Common house-fly, curiosities of the, [337]
Company of Stationers, singular custom annually observed by the, [766]
Conscience, instances of the power of, [84]
Cormorant, [242]
Coruscations, artificial, [849]
Cotton wool, curious particulars of a pound weight of, [391]
Countenance, human, curiosities of the, [18]
Cromwell, A. M. of Hammersmith, a rich miser, [897]
Creeds of the Jews, [775]
Crichton, the admirable, [911]
Crichup Linn, [797]
Crocodile, [163]
Crocodile, fossil, curiosity of, [165]
Cuckoo, curiosities respecting, [240]
Curfew bell, why so called, [635]
Curious historical fact, [744]
D
Dancer, Daniel, account of, [104]
Dajak, inhabitants of Borneo, curious funeral ceremonies of, [612]
Deaf, to make the, perceive sounds, [828]
Deaths, poetical, grammatical, and scientific, [73]
Death-watch, [347]
Diamond mine, on the river Tigitonhonha, in the Brazilian territory, [460]
Diamond, wonderful, [405]
Diana, temple of, at Ephesus, [554]
Dictionary, modern, [950]
Dimensions, &c. of some of the largest trees growing in England, [382]
Diseases peculiar to particular countries, [789]
Dismal swamp, [798]
Dog, remarkable, [194]
Dog, curious anecdotes of a, [195]
Dogs, sagacity of, [193]
Dreams, instances of extraordinary, [70]
Dwarfs, extraordinary, [40]
E
Eagle, the golden, [237]
Ear, curious structure of the, [22]
Earl of Pembroke, curious extracts from the will of an, [773]
Earth-eaters, [908]
Earthquakes, and their causes, [499]
Eating, singularities of different nations in, [595]
Eclipses, [676]
Eddystone rocks, [797]
Egg, to soften an, [851]
Electricity, illumination by, [793]
Electrical experiments, [841]
Elephant, account of an, [168]
Elephant, docility of the, [170]
Elwes, John, account of, [104]
English ladies turned Hottentots, [744]
Ephemeral flies, [343]
Ephesus, temple of Diana at, [554]
Escurial, [577]
Etna, [443]
Extraordinary custom, [601]
Eye, curious formation of the, [20]
F
Fact, the most extraordinary on record, [744]
Fairy rings, [667]
Falling stars, [681]
Faquirs, travelling, [940]
Fasting, extraordinary instances of, [65]
Fata Morgana, [665]
Feasts, among the ancients of various nations, [614]
Female beauty and ornaments, [596]
Fiery fountain, [844]
Fire-balls, [655]
Fire of London, [748]
Fire, perpetual, [806]
Fisher, Miss Clara, [905]
Fishes, air bladder in, [201]
Fishes, respiration in, [202]

Fishes, shower of, [203]
Flea, account of a, [325]
Flea, on the duration of the life of a, [328]
Florence statues, [579]
Fly, the common house, [337]
Fly, the Hessian, [336]
Fly, the May, [340]
Fly, the vegetable, [341]
Fly, the boat, [342]
Flying, artificial, [716]
Fountain trees, [375]
Freezing mixture, to form, [859]
Freezing, astonishing expansive force of, [661]
Friburg, curiosities of, [575]
Friendship, curious demonstrations of, [594]
Friendship, true Roman, recipe for establishing, [951]
Fright, or terror, remarkable effects of, [82]
Frog, the common, [160]
Frog-fish, [196]
Frosts, remarkable, [533]
Flower, the animal, [392]
Fruits, injuries from swallowing the stones of, [791]
Funeral ceremonies of the ancient Ethiopians, [609]
Fungi, [395]
G
Galley of Hiero, [584]
Galvanism, [689]
Gardens, floating, [580]
Gardens, hanging, [558]
Garter, origin of the order of the, [623]
Gas lights, miniature, [836]
Gauts, or Indian Appenines, [421]
Giants, curious account of, [39]
Giant’s causeway, [590]
Gipsies, [732]
Glaciers, [529]
Glass, ductility of, [720]
Glass, to cut, without a diamond, [833]
Glass, to write on, by the sun’s rays, [858]
Gluttony, instances of extraordinary, [64]
Gold, remarkable ductility and extensibility of, [721]
Graham, the celebrated Dr. [909]
Gravity, experiments respecting the, [838]
Great events from little causes, [746]
Grosbeak, the social, [234]
Grosbeak, the Bengal, [235]
Grotto in South America, [445]
Grotto del Cani, [446]
Grotto of Antiparos, [447]
Grotto of Guacharo, [450]
Growth, extraordinary instances of rapid, [37]
Guinea, explanation of all the letters on a, [768]
Gulf stream, [490]
H
Hagamore, Rev. Mr. a most singular character, [896]
Hail, surprising showers of, [518]
Hair of the head, account of, [28]
Hair, instances of the internal growth of, [30]
Hair, ancient and modern opinions respecting the, [29]
Halo, or corona, and similar appearances, [680]
Hand-fasting, [609]
Harmattan, [511]
Harrison, a singular instance of parsimony, [903]
Heat, diminished by evaporation, [839]
Hecla, [442]
Heidelberg clock, [705]
Heinecken, Christian Henry, account of, [114]
Hell, opinions respecting, [812]
Henderson, John, the Irish Crichton, [883]
Henry, John, singular character of, [107]
Herculaneum and Pompeii, [536]
Herschel’s grand telescope, [713]
Hessian fly, [339]
Hobnails, origin of the sheriff’s counting, [622]
Holland, North, curious practice in, [630]
Honour, extraordinary instances of, [80]
Horse, remarkable instances of sagacity in a, [192]
Human heart, structure of the, [24]
Humming bird, [236]
Huntingdon, William, eccentric character of, [134]
Hurricane, curious particulars respecting a, [511]
Husband long absent, returned, [741]
Hydra, or polypes, account of, [359]
I
Ice, Greenland or polar, [525]
Ice, tremendous concussions of fields of, [528]
Ice, showers of, [533]
Ignis Fatuus, [644]
Improvement of the learned, [765]
Incubus, or nightmare, [941]
Indian jugglers, [897]
Individuation, [780]
Indulgences, Romish, [636]
Ingratitude, shocking instances of, [78]
Inks, various sympathetic, [853 to 857]
Insects, metamorphoses of: the butterfly, the common fly, the grey-coated gnat, the shardhorn beetle, [345]
Insects blown from the nose, —
Integrity, striking instances of, [77]
Inverlochy castle, [574]
Island, new, starting from the sea, [491]
J
Jew’s harp, [795]
John Bull, origin of the term of, [634]
K
Killarney, the lake of, [487]
Kimos, singular nation of dwarfs, [43]
Knout, [804]
Kraken, [210]
L
Labrador stone, [402]
Lady of the Lamb, [601]
Lama, [810]

Lambert, Daniel, account of, [887]
Lamps, remarkable, [805]
Lamp, phosphoric, [844]
Lanterns, feast of, [621]
Laocoon, monument of, [556]
Leaves, to take an impression of them, [866]
Letter, curious, from Pomare, king of Otaheite, to the Missionary Society, [773]
Libraries, celebrated, [760]
Light produced under water, [850]
Lightning, extraordinary properties and effects of, [651]
Lightning, to produce artificial, [844]
Liquids, to produce changeable-coloured, [858]
Liquids, to exchange two in different bottles, [872]
Literary labour and perseverance, [756]
Lizard, imbedded in coal, [225]
Locusts, and their uses in the creation, [349]
London, compendious description of, [813]
London, intellectual improvement in, [761]
Longevity, extraordinary instances of, [96]
Louse, [328]
Love-letter, and answer, curious, [774]
Luminous insects, [319]
M
M‘Avoy, Miss Margaret, [919]
Maelstrom, [489]
Magdalen’s hermitage, [575]
Magic oracle, [845]
Magical bottle, [851]
Magical drum, [806]
Magnetism, [693]
Magnetic experiments, [848]
Magnify, to, small objects, [882]
Mahometan paradise, [811]
Maiden, [599]
Mammoth, or Fossil Elephant, found in Siberia, [170]
Man with the iron mask, [727]
Mandrake, [387]
Marmot, or the Mountain Rat of Switzerland, [167]
Marriage custom of the Japanese, [604]
Marriage ceremonies, curious, in different nations, [602]
Masons, free and accepted, [737]
Mathematical talent, curious instance of, [93]
Matrimonial ring, [608]
Matter, divisibility of, [793]
May-fly, [340]
May poles and garlands, the origin of, [629]
Memnon, palace of, [552]
Memory, remarkable instance of, [86]
Metals, different, to discover, [828]
Metals, mixed, to detect, [871]
Metcalf, John, alias Blind Jack of Knaresborough, [900]
Microscopic experiments, [859]
Migration of birds, [253]
Mills, remarkable, [799]
Mint of Segovia, [799]
Miraculous vessel, [852]
Mirage, account of, [521]
Miners, curious effects of, [833]
Mite, the cheese, curiosities respecting, [358]
Mock suns, [673]
Mocking bird of America, [233]
Mole, the common, [159]
Money, test of good or bad, [834]
Monkey, sagacity of a, [192]
Monsoons, or trade winds, [512]
Monster, [777]
Montague, Edward Wortley, [110]
Mont Blanc, in Switzerland, [427]
Moon, account of three volcanoes in the, [682]
Morland, George, account of, [114]
Moscow, great bell of, [726]
Mosquitoes, and their uses, [355]
Mourning, ancient modes of, [613]
Mountains, natural descriptions of, [406]
Mountains Written, Mountains of Inscription, or Jibbel El Mokatteb, [422]
Mount Snowden, excursion to the top of, [412]
Mud and Salt, volcanic eruptions of, in the island of Java, [467]
Murdering statue, [801]
Museum, [566]
Mushroom, [395]
Mushroom-stone, [402]
N
Names, curious, adopted in the civil war, [772]
Naphtha springs, [492]
National debt, singular calculation respecting, [816]
Natural productions, resembling artificial compositions, [804]
Natural history, curious facts in, [247]
Nautilus, [197]
Navigation, perfection of, [481]
Needles, [722]
Needle’s eye, [459]
News, origin of the word, [762]
Newspapers, origin of, [762]
New studies in old age, instances of, [763]
New year’s gifts, origin of, [633]
Niagara, and its falls, [485]
Nicholas Pesce, [117]
Nitre caves of Missouri, [457]
Nokes, Edward, a miser, [888]
Numbers, remarkable instance of skill in, [86]
Numbers, curious arrangements of, [868], [871]
Nuns, particulars respecting, [811]
Nuovo, Monte, [419]
O
Oak-tree, remarkable account of, [380]
Oakham, custom at, [630]
Obelisk, remarkable, near Forres, in Scotland, [573]
Okey Hole, [458]
Orang-Outang, [178]
Origin of ‘That’s a Bull,’ [635]
Origin of the old adage respecting St. Swithin, and rainy weather, [635]
Ornithorhynchus paradoxus, [166]
Ostrich, curiosities of the, [231]
Owl, adventure of an, [247]

P
Pausilippo, [419]
Peacock, the common, [226]
Peak in Derbyshire, description of, [409]
Peeping Tom of Coventry, [740]
Peg, to make a, to fit three differently shaped holes, [872]
Pelican, the great, [229]
Penance, curious account of a, [643]
Performances of a female, blind almost from her infancy, [53]
Persons born defective in their limbs, wonderful instances of adroitness of, [54]
Peruke, [783]
Peru, mines of, [465]
Pesce, Nicholas, extraordinary character of, [117]
Pharos of Alexandria, [549]
Phosphoric fire, sheet of, [669]
Phosphorus, [670]
Pichinca, [415]
Pico, [422]
Pigeon, wild, its multiplying power, [245]
Pigeon, carrier, or courier, [244]
Pin-making, [721]
Pitch-wells, [468]
Plague, dreadful instances of the, in Europe, [747]
Plant, curious, [386]
Plants, curious dissemination of, [366]
Plants upon the earth, prodigious number of, [367]
Plough-Monday, origin of, [632]
Poison-eater, remarkable account of, [94]
Pompey’s pillar, [547]
Pope Joan, [931]
Portland vase, [800]
Praxiteles’ Venus, [712]
Praying machines of Kalmuck, [642]
Price, Charles, the renowned swindler, [889]
Prince Rupert’s drops, [853]
Prolificness, extraordinary instances of, [37]
Psalmanazar, George, noted impostor, [112]
Pulpit, curious, [801]
Pyramids of Egypt, [544]
Q
Quaint lines, [772]
Queen Charlotte, curious address to, [769]
Queen, a blacksmith’s wife become a, [749]
Queen Elizabeth’s dinner, curious account of the ceremonies at, [749]
Queen Elizabeth, quaint lines on, [772]
R
Recreations, amusing, in optics, &c. [873 to 882]
Recreations, amusing, with numbers, [820 to 827]
Religion, celebrated speech on, [944]
Reproduction, [781]
Repulsion, examples of, [837]
Respiration, interesting facts concerning, [26]
Revivified rose, [858]
Rhinoceros, [162]
Rings, on the origin of, [606]
Rosin bubbles, [851]
Royal progenitors, [744]
Ruin at Siwa in Egypt, [534]
S
Salutation, various modes of, [598]
Sand-floods, account of, [521]
Savage, Richard, extraordinary character of, [128]
Scaliot’s lock, [712]
Scarron, Paul, account of, [119]
Schurrman, Anna Maria, [123]
Scorpion, [213]
Sea, curiosities of the, [471]
Sea, on the saltness of, [476]
Sea, to measure the depth of the, [829]
Sea serpent, American, [218]
Seal, common account of, [180]
Seal, ursine, [181]
Seeds, germination of, [365]
Sensibility of plants, [368]
Sensitive plant, [369]
Seraglio, [564]
Serpents, fascinating power of, [219]
Sexes, difference between the, [34]
Sexes at birth, comparative number of the, [36]
Shark, [198]
Sheep, extraordinary adventures of one, [190]
Shelton oak, description of, [382]
Ship worm, [224]
Ship at sea, to find the burden of a, [829]
Shoes, curiosities respecting, [724]
Shoe-makers, literary, [764]
Shower of gossamers, curious phenomenon of a, [523]
Shrovetide, [630]
Silk-mill at Derby, [800]
Silk stockings, electricity of, [842]
Silkworm, [220]
Singular curiosity, [405]
Skiddaw, [414]
Sleep-walker, [69]
Sleeping woman of Dunninald, [70]
Smeaton, John, [113]
Sneezing, curious observations on, [33]
Snow grotto, [451]
Solfatara, the lake of, [488]
Sound, experiments on, [840]
Spectacle of a sea-fight at Rome, [711]
Spectacles, a substitute for, [807]
Spectre of the Broken, [420]
Spider, curiosities of the, [314]
Spider, tamed, [316]
Spider, ingenuity of a, [316]
Spider, curious anecdote of a, [318]
Spirits of wine, to ascertain the strength of, [839]
Spontaneous inflammations, [786]
Sports, book of, [766]
’Squire, old English, [925]
Stalk, animated, [392]
Star, falling or shooting, [401]
Stephenson, the eccentric, [895]

Steel, to melt, [830]
Stick, to break a, on two wine-glasses, [871]
Stone, the meteoric, [401]
Stone, the Labrador, [402]
Stone, the changeable, [404]
Stone-eater, remarkable account of, [94]
Stonehenge, [592]
Storks, [229]
Storm, singular effects of a, [519]
Strasburg clock, [705]
Sugar, antiquity of, [390]
Sulphur mountains, [424]
Sun, diminution of the, [673]
Sun, spots in the, [671]—to shew ditto, [852]
Surgical operation, extraordinary, [791]
Swine’s concert, [750]
Sword-swallowing, [62]
Sympathetic inks, [853 to 857]
T
Tallow-tree, [378]
Tantalus’ cup, [852]
Tape-worm, [222]
Tea, Chinese method of preparing, [388]
Telegraph, [708]
Temple of Tentira, in Egypt, [550]
Tenures, curious, [628]
Thermometrical experiments, [863]
Thermometer, moral and physical, [817]
Thread burnt, not broken, [844]
Thunder powder, [836]
Thunder rod, [654]
Tides, [479]
Titles of books, [755]
Toad, common, description of, [161]
Topham, Thomas, character of, [115]
Tornado, description of a, [510]
Torpedo, [200]
Tortoise, the common, [176]
Tree of Diana, [852]
Trees, account of a country, in which the inhabitants reside in, [45]
U
Unbeliever’s creed, [776]
Unfortunate artificer, [745]
Unicorn, [179]
Upas, or poison tree, [383]
V
Valentine’s-day, origin of, [632]
Van Butchell, Mrs. preservation of her corpse, [902]
Vegetable kingdom, curiosities in the, [363]
Vegetables, number of known, [367]
Vegetable fly, [341]
Velocity of the wind, [517]
Ventriloquism, [58]
Vesuvius, [434], [947]
Vicar of Bray, [748]
Voltaic pile, to make a cheap, [847]
Vulture, Egyptian, [228]
Vulture, secretary, [228]
W
Wasp, curiosities respecting the, [285]
Watch, the mysterious, [835]
Watches, invention of, [707]
Water, to boil without heat, [835]
Water, to weigh, [834]
Water, to retain, in an inverted glass, [835]
Waterspout, [663]
Waves stilled by oil, [480]
Weaving engine, [712]
Whale, great northern, or Greenland, [204]
Whale fishery, [208]
Whig and Tory, explanation of the terms, [776]
Whirlpool near Sudero, [489]
Whirlwinds of Egypt, [509]
Whispering places, and extraordinary echoes, [802]
Whitehead’s ship, [712]
Whittington, Sir Richard, [932]
Wild man, account of a, [76]
Wind, velocity of, [517]
Winds, remarkable, in Egypt, [507]
Wine cellar, curious, [799]
Winter in Russia, [524]
Wolby, Henry, extraordinary character of, [105]
Women with beards, curious account of, [32]
Wooden eagle, and iron fly, [711]
Writing, origin of the materials of, [751]
Writing, minute, [753]
X
Xerxes’ bridge of boats over the Hellespont, [586]
Z
Zeuxis, celebrated painter, [116].

INTRODUCTION.

It was well observed by Lord Bacon, that “It would much conduce to the magnanimity and honour of man, if a collection were made of the extraordinaries of human nature, principally out of the reports of history; that is, what is the last and highest pitch to which man’s nature, of itself, hath ever reached, in all the perfection of mind and body. If the wonders of human nature, and virtues as well of mind as of body, were collected into a volume, they might serve as a calendar of human triumphs.”

The present work not only embraces the Curiosities of human nature, but of Nature and Art in general, as well as Science and Literature. Surrounded with wonders, and lost in admiration, the inquisitive mind of man is ever anxious to know the hidden springs that put these wonders in motion; he eagerly inquires for some one to take him by the hand, and explain to him the curiosities of the universe. And though the works of the Lord, like his nature and attributes, are great, and past finding out, and we cannot arrive at the perfection of science, nor discover the secret impulses which nature obeys, yet can we by reading, study, and investigation, dissipate much of the darkness in which we are enveloped, and dive far beyond the surface of this multifarious scene of things—The noblest employment of the human understanding is, to contemplate the works of the great Creator of the boundless universe; and to trace the marks of infinite wisdom, power, and goodness, throughout the whole. This is the foundation of all religious worship and obedience; and an essential preparative for properly understanding, and cordially receiving, the sublime discoveries and important truths of divine revelation. “Every man,” says our Saviour, “that hath heard, and hath learned of the Father, cometh unto me.” And no man can come properly to Christ, or, in other words, embrace the christian religion, so as to form consistent views of it, and enter into its true spirit, unless he is thus drawn by the Father through a contemplation of his works. Such is the inseparable connection between nature and grace.

A considerable portion of the following pages is devoted to Curiosities in the works of Nature, or, more properly, the works of God, for,

“Nature is but an effect, and God the cause.”

The Deity is the

“Father of all that is, or heard, or hears!
Father of all that is, or seen, or sees!
Father of all that is, or shall arise!
Father of this immeasurable mass
Of matter multiform; or dense, or rare;
Opaque, or lucid; rapid, or at rest;
Minute, or passing bound! In each extreme
Of like amaze, and mystery, to man.”

The invisible God is seen in all his works.

“God is a spirit, spirit cannot strike
These gross material organs: God by man
As much is seen, as man a God can see.
In these astonishing exploits of power
What order, beauty, motion, distance, size!
Concertion of design, how exquisite!
How complicate, in their divine police!
Apt means! great ends! consent to general good!”

This work also presents to the reader, a view of the great achievements of the human intellect, in the discoveries of science; and the wonderful operations of the skill, power, and industry of man in the invention and improvement of the arts, in the construction of machines, and in the buildings and other ornaments the earth exhibits, as trophies to the glory of the human race.

But we shall now give the reader a short sketch of what is provided for him in the following pages. The work is divided into eighty-seven chapters. The Curiosities respecting Man occupy eleven chapters. The next four chapters are devoted to Animals; then two to Fishes; one to Serpents and Worms; three to Birds; eleven to Insects; six to Vegetables; three to Mountains; two to Grottos, Caves, &c.; one to Mines; two to the Sea; one to Lakes, Whirlpools, &c.; one to Burning Springs; one to Earthquakes; one to Remarkable Winds; one to Showers, Storms, &c.; one to Ice; one to Ruins; four to Buildings, Temples, and other Monuments of Antiquity; and one to Basaltic and Rocky Curiosities. The fifty-eighth chapter is devoted to the Ark of Noah—the Galley of Hiero—and the Bridge of Xerxes. The next six chapters detail at length the various Customs of Mankind in different parts of the World, and also explain many Old Adages and Sayings. The next five chapters exhibit a variety of curious phenomena in nature, such as the Ignis Fatuus; Thunder and Lightning; Fire Balls; Water Spouts; Fairy Rings; Spots in the Sun; Volcanoes in the Moon; Eclipses; Shooting Stars; Aurora Borealis, or Northern Lights; &c. &c. The seventieth chapter is on Galvanism. The seventy-first on Magnetism. The next three chapters delineate the principal Curiosities respecting the Arts. Then follow five chapters on some of the principal Curiosities in History; three on the Curiosities of Literature; and five on Miscellaneous Curiosities. An Appendix is added, containing a number of easy, innocent, amusing Experiments and Recreations.

This is “A New Compilation,” inasmuch as not one article is taken from any book bearing the title of Beauties, Wonders, or Curiosities. The Compiler trusts the work will afford both entertainment and instruction for the leisure hour, of the Philosopher or the Labourer, the Gentleman or the Mechanic. In short, all classes may find in the present work something conducive to their pleasure and improvement, in their hours of seriousness, as well as those of gaiety; and it will afford a constant source of subjects for interesting and agreeable conversation.

THE
BOOK OF CURIOSITIES.

CHAP. I.

CURIOSITIES RESPECTING MAN.

The Human Body—the Countenance—the Eye—the Ear—the Heart—the Circulation of the Blood—Respiration—the Hair of the Head—the Beard—Women with Beards—Sneezing.

We shall, in the first place, enter on the consideration of The Curiosities of the Human Body.—The following account is abridged from the works of the late Drs. Hunter and Paley.

Dr. Hunter shows that all the parts of the human frame are requisite to the wants and well-being of such a creature as man. He observes, that, first the mind, the thinking immaterial agent, must be provided with a place of immediate residence, which shall have all the requisites for the union of spirit and body; accordingly, she is provided with the brain, where she dwells as governor and superintendant of the whole fabric.

In the next place, as she is to hold a correspondence with all the material beings around her, she must be supplied with organs fitted to receive the different kinds of impression which they will make. In fact, therefore, we see that she is provided with the organs of sense, as we call them: the eye is adapted to light; the ear to sound; the nose to smell; the mouth to taste; and the skin to touch.

Further, she must be furnished with organs of communication between herself in the brain, and those organs of sense; to give her information of all the impressions that are made upon them; and she must have organs between herself in the brain, and every other part of the body, fitted to convey her commands and influence over the whole. For these purposes the nerves are actually given. They are soft white chords which rise from the brain, the immediate residence of the mind, and disperse themselves in branches through all parts of the body. They convey all the different kinds of sensations to the mind in the brain; and likewise carry out from thence all her commands to the other parts of the body. They are intended to be occasional monitors against all such impressions as might endanger the well-being of the whole, or of any particular part; which vindicates the Creator of all things, in having actually subjected us to those many disagreeable and painful sensations which we are exposed to from a thousand accidents in life.

Moreover, the mind, in this corporeal system, must be endued with the power of moving from place to place; that she may have intercourse with a variety of objects; that she may fly from such as are disagreeable, dangerous, or hurtful; and pursue such as are pleasant and useful to her. And accordingly she is furnished with limbs, with muscles and tendons, the instruments of motion, which are found in every part of the fabric where motion is necessary.

But to support, to give firmness and shape to the fabric; to keep the softer parts in their proper places; to give fixed points for, and the proper directions to its motions, as well as to protect some of the more important and tender organs from external injuries, there must be some firm prop-work interwoven through the whole. And in fact, for such purposes the bones are given.

The prop-work is not made with one rigid fabric, for that would prevent motion. Therefore there are a number of bones.

These pieces must all be firmly bound together, to prevent their dislocation. And this end is perfectly well answered by the ligaments.

The extremities of these bony pieces, where they move and rub upon one another, must have smooth and slippery surfaces for easy motion. This is most happily provided for, by the cartilages and mucus of the joints.

The interstices of all these parts must be filled up with some soft and ductile matter, which shall keep them in their places, unite them, and at the same time allow them to move a little upon one another; these purposes are answered by the cellular membrane, or edipose substance.

There must be an outward covering over the whole apparatus, both to give it compactness, and to defend it from a thousand injuries; which, in fact, are the very purposes of the skin and other integuments.

Say, what the various bones so wisely wrought?
How was their frame to such perfection brought?
What did their figures for their uses fit,
Their numbers fix, and joints adapted knit;
And made them all in that just order stand,
Which motion, strength, and ornament, demand?
Blackmore.

Lastly, the mind being formed for society and intercourse with beings of her own kind, she must be endued with powers of expressing and communicating her thoughts by some sensible marks or signs, which shall be both easy to herself, and admit of great variety. And accordingly she is provided with the organs and faculty of speech, by which she can throw out signs with amazing facility, and vary them without end.

Thus we have built up an animal body, which would seem to be pretty complete; but as it is the nature of matter to be altered and worked upon by matter, so in a very little time such a living creature must be destroyed, if there is no provision for repairing the injuries which she must commit upon herself, and those which she must be exposed to from without. Therefore a treasure of blood is actually provided in the heart and vascular system, full of nutritious and healing particles; fluid enough to penetrate into the minutest parts of the animal; impelled by the heart, and conveyed by the arteries, it washes every part, builds up what was broken down, and sweeps away the old and useless materials. Hence we see the necessity or advantage of the heart and arterial system.

What more there was of the blood than enough to repair the present damages of the machine, must not be lost, but should be returned again to the heart; and for this purpose the venous system is provided. These requisites in the animal explain the circulation of the blood, a priori.[1]

All this provision, however, would not be sufficient; for the store of blood would soon be consumed, and the fabric would break down, if there was not a provision made by fresh supplies. These, we observe, in fact, are profusely scattered round her in the animal and vegetable kingdoms; and she is furnished with hands, the fittest instruments that could be contrived for gathering them, and for preparing them in their varieties for the mouth.

But these supplies, which we call food, must be considerably changed; they must be converted into blood. Therefore she is provided with teeth for cutting and bruising the food, and with a stomach for melting it down; in short, with all the organs subservient to digestion: the finer parts of the aliments only can be useful in the constitution; these must be taken up and conveyed into the blood, and the dregs must be thrown off. With this view, the intestinal canal is provided. It separates the nutritious parts, which we call chyle, to be conveyed into the blood by the system of the absorbent vessels; and the coarser parts pass downwards to be ejected.

We have now got our animal not only furnished with what is wanting for immediate existence, but also with powers of protracting that existence to an indefinite length of time. But its duration, we may presume, must necessarily be limited; for as it is nourished, grows, and is raised up to its full strength and utmost perfection; so it must in time, in common with all material beings, begin to decay, and then hurry on into final ruin.

Thus we see, by the imperfect survey which human reason is able to take of this subject, that the animal man must necessarily be complex in his corporeal system, and in its operations.

He must have one great and general system, the vascular, branching through the whole circulation: another, the nervous, with its appendages—the organs of sense, for every kind of feeling: and a third, for the union and connection of all these parts.

Besides these primary and general systems, he requires others, which may be more local or confined: one, for strength, support, and protection,—the bony compages: another, for the requisite motions of the parts among themselves, as well as for moving from place to place,—the muscular system: another to prepare nourishment for the daily recruit of the body,—the digestive organs.

Dr. Paley observes, that, of all the different systems in the human body, the use and necessity are not more apparent, than the wisdom and contrivance which have been exerted, in putting them all into the most compact and convenient form: in disposing them so, that they shall mutually receive from, and give helps to one another: and that all, or many of the parts, shall not only answer their principal end or purpose, but operate successfully and usefully in a variety of secondary ways. If we consider the whole animal machine in this light, and compare it with any machine in which human art has exerted its utmost, we shall be convinced, beyond the possibility of doubt, that there are intelligence and power far surpassing what humanity can boast of.

One superiority in the natural machine is peculiarly striking.—In machines of human contrivance or art, there is no internal power, no principle in the machine itself, by which it can alter and accommodate itself to injury which it may suffer, or make up any injury which admits of repair. But in the natural machine, the animal body, this is most wonderfully provided for, by internal powers in the machine itself; many of which are not more certain and obvious in their effects, than they are above all human comprehension as to the manner and means of their operation. Thus, a wound heals up of itself; a broken bone is made firm again by a callus; a dead part is separated and thrown off; noxious juices are driven out by some of the emunctories; a redundancy is removed by some spontaneous bleeding; a bleeding naturally stops of itself; and the loss is in a measure compensated, by a contracting power in the vascular system, which accommodates the capacity of the vessels to the quantity contained. The stomach gives intimation when the supplies have been expended; represents, with great exactness, the quantity and quality, of what is wanted in the present state of the machine; and in proportion as she meets with neglect, rises in her demand, urges her petition in a louder tone, and with more forcible arguments. For its protection, an animal body resists heat and cold in a very wonderful manner, and preserves an equal temperature in a burning and in a freezing atmosphere.

A farther excellence or superiority in the natural machine, if possible, still more astonishing, more beyond all human comprehension, than what we have been speaking of, is the distinction of sexes, and the effects of their united powers. Besides those internal powers of self-preservation in each individual, when two of them, of different sexes, unite, they are endued with powers of producing other animals or machines like themselves, which again are possessed of the same powers of producing others, and so of multiplying the species without end. These are powers which mock all human invention or imitation. They are characteristics of the Divine Architect.—Thus far Paley.

Galen takes notice, that there are in the human body above 600 muscles, in each of which there are, at least, 10 several intentions, or due qualifications, to be observed; so that, about the muscles alone, no less than 6000 ends and aims are to be attended to! The bones are reckoned to be 284; and the distinct scopes or intentions of these are above 40—in all, about 12,000! and thus it is, in some proportion, with all the other parts, the skin, ligaments, vessels, and humours; but more especially with the several vessels, which do, in regard to their great variety, and multitude of their several intentions, very much exceed the homogeneous parts.

——————————How august,
How complicate, how wonderful, is man!
How passing wonder He who made him such!—
From different natures marvellously mixt;—
Though sully’d and dishonour’d, still DIVINE!
Young.
“Come! all ye nations! bless the Lord,
To him your grateful homage pay:
Your voices raise with one accord,
Jehovah’s praises to display.
From clay our complex frames he moulds,
And succours us in time of need:
Like sheep when wandering from their folds,
He calls us back, and does us feed.
Then thro’ the world let’s shout his praise,
Ten thousand million tongues should join,
To heav’n their thankful incense raise,
And sound their Maker’s love divine.
When rolling years have ceas’d their rounds,
Yet shall his goodness onward tend;
For his great mercy has no bounds,
His truth and love shall never end!”

So curious is the texture or form of the human body in every part, and withal so “fearfully and wonderfully made,” that even atheists, after having carefully surveyed the frame of it, and viewed the fitness and usefulness of its various parts, and their several intentions, have been struck with wonder, and their souls kindled into devotion towards the all-wise Maker of such a beautiful frame. And so convinced was Galen of the excellency of this piece of divine workmanship, that he is said to have allowed Epicurus a hundred years to find out a more commodious shape, situation, or texture, for any one part of the human body! Indeed, no understanding can be so low and mean, no heart so stupid and insensible, as not plainly to see, that nothing but Infinite Wisdom could, in so wonderful a manner, have fashioned the body of man, and inspired into it a being of superior faculties, whereby He teacheth us more than the beasts of the field, and maketh us wiser than the fowls of the heaven.

——————Thrice happy men,
And sons of men, whom God hath thus advanc’d;
Created in his image, here to dwell,
And worship him; and, in return, to rule
O’er all his works.
Milton.

We now proceed to consider The Curiosities of the Human Countenance.—On this subject we shall derive considerable assistance from the same German philosopher that was quoted in the last section. Indeed, we shall make a liberal use of Sturm’s Reflections in our delineations of the Curiosities of the human frame.

The exterior of the human body at once declares the superiority of man over all living creatures. His Face, directed towards the heavens, prepares us to expect that dignified expression which is so legibly inscribed upon his features; and from the countenance of man we may judge of his important destination, and high prerogatives. When the soul rests in undisturbed tranquillity, the features of the face are calm and composed; but when agitated by emotions, and tossed by contending passions, the countenance becomes a living picture, in which every sensation is depicted with equal force and delicacy. Each affection of the mind has its particular impression, and every change of countenance denotes some secret emotion of the heart. The Eye may, in particular, be regarded as the immediate organ of the soul; as a mirror, in which the wildest passions and the softest affections are reflected without disguise. Hence it may be called with propriety, the true interpreter of the soul, and organ of the understanding. The colour and motions of the eye contribute much to mark the character of the countenance. The human eyes are, in proportion, nearer to one another than those of any other living creatures; the space between the eyes of most of them being so great, as to prevent their seeing an object with both their eyes at the same time, unless it is placed at a great distance. Next to the eyes, the eye-brows tend to fix the character of the countenance. Their colour renders them particularly striking; they form the shade of the picture, which thus acquires greater force of colouring. The eye-lashes, when long and thick, give beauty and additional charms to the eye. No animals, but men and monkeys, have both eye-lids ornamented with eye-lashes; other creatures having them only on the lower eye-lid. The eye-brows are elevated, depressed, and contracted, by means of the muscles upon the forehead, which forms a very considerable part of the face, and adds much to its beauty when well formed: it should neither project much, nor be quite flat; neither very large, nor small; beautiful hair adds much to its appearance. The Nose is the most prominent, and least moveable part of the face; hence it adds more to the beauty than the expression of the countenance. The Mouth and Lips are, on the contrary, extremely susceptible of changes; and, if the eyes express the passions of the soul, the mouth seems more peculiarly to correspond with the emotions of the heart. The rosy bloom of the lips, and the ivory white of the teeth, complete the charms of the human face divine.

Another Curiosity on this subject is, the wonderful diversity of traits in the human countenance. It is an evident proof of the admirable wisdom of God, that though the bodies of men are so similar to each other in their essential parts, there is yet such a diversity in their exterior, that they can be readily distinguished without the liability of error. Amongst the many millions of men existing in the universe, there are no two that are perfectly similar to each other Each one has some peculiarity pourtrayed in his countenance, or remarkable in his speech; and this diversity of countenance is the more singular, because the parts which compose it are very few, and in each person are disposed according to the same plan. If all things had been produced by blind chance, the countenances of men might have resembled one another as nearly as balls cast in the same mould, or drops of water out of the same bucket: but as that is not the case, we must admire the infinite wisdom of the Creator, which, in thus diversifying the traits of the human countenance, has manifestly had in view the happiness of men; for if they resembled each other perfectly, they could not be distinguished from one another, to the utter confusion and detriment of society. We should never be certain of life, nor of the peaceable possession of our property; thieves and robbers would run little risk of detection, for they could neither be distinguished by the traits of their countenance, nor the sound of their voice. Adultery, and every crime that stains humanity, might be practiced with impunity, since the guilty would rarely be discovered; and we should be continually exposed to the machinations of the villain, and the malignity of the coward: we could not shelter ourselves from the confusion of the mistake, nor from the treachery and fraud of the deceitful; all the efforts of justice would be useless, and commerce would be the prey of error and uncertainty: in short, the uniformity and perfect similarity of faces would deprive society of its most endearing charms, and destroy the pleasure and sweet gratification of individual friendship.

We may well exclaim with a celebrated writer,—

“What a piece of work is man! how noble in reason! how infinite in faculties! in form, and moving, how express and admirable! in action, how like an angel! in apprehension, how like a god!”

The next subject is, The Curious Formation of the Eye.—The Eye infinitely surpasses all the works of man’s industry. Its structure is one of the most wonderful things the human understanding can become acquainted with; the most skilful artist cannot devise any machine of this kind which is not infinitely inferior to the eye; whatever ability, industry, and attention he may devote to it, he will not be able to produce a work that does not abound with the imperfections incident to the works of men. It is true, we cannot perfectly become acquainted with all the art the Divine Wisdom has displayed in the structure of this beautiful organ; but the little that we know suffices to convince us of the admirable intelligence, goodness, and power of the Creator. In the first place, how fine is the disposition of the exterior parts of the eye, how admirably it is defended! Placed in durable orbits of bone, at a certain depth in the skull, they cannot easily suffer any injury; the over-arching eye-brows contribute much to the beauty and preservation of this exquisite organ; and the eye-lids more immediately shelter it from the glare of light, and other things which might be prejudicial; inserted in these are the eye-lashes, which also much contribute to the above effect, and also prevent small particles of dust, and other substances, striking against the eye.[2] The internal structure is still more admirable. The globe of the eye is composed of tunics, humours, muscles, and vessels; the coats are the cornea, or exterior membrane, which is transparent anteriorly, and opake posteriorly; the charoid, which is extremely vascular; the uvea, with the iris, which being of various colours, gives the appearance of differently coloured eyes; and being perforated, with the power of contraction and dilatation, forms the pupil; and, lastly, the retina, being a fine expansion of the optic nerve, upon it the impressions of objects are made. The humours are the aqueous, lying in the forepart of the globe, immediately under the cornea; it is thin, liquid, and transparent; the crystalline, which lies next to the aqueous, behind the uvea, opposite to the pupil, it is the least of the humours, of great solidity, and on both sides convex; the vitreous, resembling the white of an egg, fills all the hind part of the cavity of the globe, and gives the spherical figure to the eye. The muscles of the eye are six, and by the excellence of their arrangement it is enabled to move in all directions. Vision is performed by the rays of light falling on the pellucid and convex cornea of the eye, by the density and convexity of which they are united into a focus, which passes the aqueous humours, and pupil of the eye, to be more condensed by the crystalline lens. The rays of light thus concentrated, penetrate the vitreous humour, and stimulate the retina upon which the images of objects, painted in an inverse direction, are represented to the mind through the medium of the optic nerves.

————————The visual orbs
Remark, how aptly station’d for their task;
Rais’d to th’ imperial head’s high citadel,
A wide extended prospect to command.
See the arch’d outworks of impending lids,
With hairs, as palisadoes fenc’d around
To ward annoyance from without.
Bally.

Again:—

Who form’d the curious organ of the eye,
And cloth’d it with its various tunicles,
Of texture exquisite; with crystal juice
Supply’d it, to transmit the rays of light;
Then plac’d it in its station eminent,
Well fenc’d and guarded, as a centinel
To watch abroad, and needful caution give?
Needler.

The next subject is, The Curious Structure of the Ear.

The channel’d ear, with many a winding maze,
How artfully perplex’d, to catch the sound.
And from her repercussive caves augment!
Bally.
Dark night, that from the eye his function takes,
The ear more quick of apprehension makes;
Wherein it doth impair the seeing sense,
It pays the Hearing—double recompense.
Shakspeare.

Although the ear, with regard to beauty, yields to the eye, its conformation is not less perfect, nor less worthy of the Creator. The position of the ear bespeaks much wisdom; for it is placed in the most convenient part of the body, near to the brain, the common seat of all the senses. The exterior form of the ear merits considerable attention; its substance is between the flexible softness of flesh, and the firmness of bone, which prevents the inconvenience that must arise from its being either entirely muscular or wholly formed of solid bone. It is therefore cartilaginous, possessing firmness, folds, and smoothness, so adapted as to reflect sound; for the chief use of the external part is to collect the vibrations of the air, and transmit them to the orifice of the ear. The internal structure of this organ is still more remarkable. Within the cavity of the ear is an opening, called the meatus auditorius, or auditory canal, the entrance to which is defended by small hairs, which prevent insects and small particles of extraneous matter penetrating into it; for which purpose there is also secreted a bitter ceruminous matter, called ear-wax. The auditory canal is terminated obliquely by a membrane, generally known by the name of drum, which instrument it in some degree resembles; for within the cavity of the auditory canal is a kind of bony ring, over which the membrana tympani is stretched. In contact with this membrane, on the inner side, is a small bone (malleus) against which it strikes when agitated by the vibrations of sound. Connected with these are two small muscles: one, by stretching the membrane, adapts it to be more easily acted upon by soft and low sounds; the other, by relaxing, prepares it for those which are very loud. Besides the malleus, there are some other very small and remarkable bones, called incus, or the anvil, as orbiculare, or orbicular bone, and the stapes, or stirrup: their use is, to assist in conveying the sounds received upon the membrana tympani. Behind the cavity of the drum, is an opening, called the Eustachian tube, which begins at the back part of the mouth with an orifice, which diminishes in size as the tube passes towards the ear, where it becomes bony; by this means, sounds may be conveyed to the ear through the mouth, and it facilitates the vibrations of the membrane by the admission of air. We may next observe the cochlea, which somewhat resembles the shell of a snail, whence its name; its cavity winds in a spiral direction, and is divided into two by a thin spiral lamina: and lastly is the auditory nerve, which terminates in the brain. The faculty of hearing is worthy of the utmost admiration and attention: by putting in motion a very small portion of air, without even being conscious of its moving, we have the power of communicating to each other our thoughts, desires, and conceptions. But to render the action of air in the propagation of sound more intelligible, we must recollect that the air is not a solid, but a fluid body. Throw a stone into a smooth stream of water, and there will take place undulations, which will be extended more or less according to the degree of force with which the stone was impelled. Conceive then, that when a word is uttered in the air, a similar effect takes place in that element, as is produced by the stone in the water. During the action of speaking, the air is expelled from the mouth with more or less force; this communicates to the external air which it meets, an undulatory motion; and these undulations of the air entering the cavity of the ear, the external parts of which are peculiarly adapted to receive them, strike upon the membrane, or drum, by which means it is shaken, and receives a trembling motion: the vibration is communicated to the malleus, the bone immediately in contact with the membrane, and from it to the other bones; the last of which, the stapes or stirrup, adhering to the fenestra ovalis, or oval orifice, causes it to vibrate; the trembling of which is communicated to a portion of water contained in the cavity called the vestibulum, and in the semicircular canals, causing a gentle tremor in the nervous expansion contained therein, which is transmitted to the brain; and the mind is thus informed of the presence of sound, and feels a sensation proportioned to the force or to the weakness of the impression that is made. Let us rejoice that we possess the faculty of hearing; for without it, our state would be most wretched and deplorable; in some respects, more sorrowful than the loss of sight; had we been born deaf, we could not have acquired knowledge sufficient to enable us to pursue any art or science. Let us never behold those who have the misfortune to be deaf, without endeavoring better to estimate the gift of which they are deprived, and which we enjoy; or without praising the goodness of God, which has granted it to us: and the best way we can testify our gratitude is, to make a proper use of this important blessing.

We now proceed to a more particular description of The Curiosities of the Human Heart; and the Circulation of the Blood.

———Though no shining sun, nor twinkling star
Bedeck’d the crimson curtains of the sky;
Though neither vegetable, beast, nor bird,
Were extant on the surface of this ball,
Nor lurking gem beneath; though the great sea
Slept in profound stagnation, and the air
Had left no thunder to pronounce its Maker:
Yet Man at home, within himself might find
The Deity immense, and in that frame
So fearfully, so wonderfully made!
See and adore his providence and power.
Smart.

With what admirable skill and inimitable structure is formed that muscular body, situated within the cavity of the chest, and called the human heart! Its figure is somewhat conical, and it is externally divided into two parts: the base, which is uppermost, and attached to vessels; and the apex, which is loose and pointing to the left side, against which it seems to beat. Its substance is muscular, being composed of fleshy fibres, interwoven with each other. It is divided internally into cavities, called auricles and ventricles; from which vessels proceed to convey the blood to the different parts of the body. The ventricles are situated in the substance of the heart, and are separated from each other by a thick muscular substance; they are divided into right and left, and each communicates with its adjoining auricle, one of which is situated on each side the base of the heart. The right auricle receives the blood from the head and superior parts of the body, by means of a large vein; and in the same manner the blood is returned to it from the inferior parts, by all the veins emptying their stores into one, which terminates in this cavity; which, having received a sufficient portion of blood, contracts, and by this motion empties itself into the right ventricle, which also contracting, propels the blood into an artery, which immediately conveys it into the lungs, where it undergoes certain changes, and then passes through veins into the left auricle of the heart, thence into the left ventricle, by the contraction of which it is forced into an artery, through whose ramifications it is dispersed to all parts of the body, from which it is again returned to the right auricle; thus keeping up a perpetual circulation, for, whilst life remains, the action of the heart never ceases. In a state of health the heart contracts about seventy times in a minute, and is supposed, at each contraction, to propel about two ounces of blood; to do which, the force it exerts is very considerable, though neither the quantity of force exerted, nor of blood propelled, is accurately determined. The heart comprises within itself a world of wonders, and whilst we admire its admirable structure and properties, we are naturally led to consider the wisdom and power of Him who formed it, from whom first proceeded the circulation of the blood, and the pulsations of the heart; who commands it to be still, and the functions instantly cease to act.

This important secret of the circulation of blood in the human body was brought to light by William Harvey, an English physician, a little before the year 1600: and when it is considered thoroughly, it will appear to be one of the most stupendous works of Omnipotence.

The blood, the fountain whence the spirits flow,
The generous stream that waters every part,
And motion, vigour, and warm life conveys
To every particle that moves or lives,
——————through unnumber’d tube.
Pour’d by the heart, and to the heart again
Refunded.—————
Armstrong.
Who in the dark the vital flame illum’d,
And from th’ impulsive engine caused to flow
Th’ ejaculated streams through many a pipe
Arterial with meand’ring lapse, then bring
Refluent their purple tribute to their fount:
Who spun the sinews’ branchy thread, and twin’d
The azure veins in spiral knots, to waft
Life’s tepid waves all o’er; or, who with bones
Compacted, and with nerves the fabric strung:
Their specious form, their fitness, which results
From figure and arrangement, all declare
Th’ Artificer Divine!
Bally.

Again:—

———The nerves, with equal wisdom made.
Arising from the tender brain, pervade
And secret pass in pairs the channel’d bone.
And thence advance through paths and roads unknown.
Form’d of the finest complicated thread,
The num’rous cords are through the body spread.
These subtle channels, such is every nerve,
For vital functions, sense, and motion serve;—
They help to labour and concoct the food,
Refine the chyle, and animate the blood.
Blackmore.

We now proceed to some Curious and Interesting Facts concerning Respiration, or the Act of Breathing.

Anatomists have, not unaptly, compared the lungs to a sponge; containing, like it, a great number of small cavities, and being also capable of considerable compression and expansion. The air cells of the lungs open into the windpipe, by which they communicate with the external atmosphere: the whole internal structure of the lungs is lined by a transparent membrane, estimated by Haller at only the thousandth part of an inch in thickness; but whose surface, from its various convolutions, measures fifteen square feet, which is equal to the external surface of the body. On this extensive and thin membrane innumerable branches of veins and arteries are distributed, some of them finer than hairs; and through these vessels all the blood in the system is successively propelled, by an extremely curious and beautiful mechanism, which will be described in some future article.

The capacity of the lungs varies considerably in different individuals.[3] On a general average, they may be said to contain about 280 cubic inches, or nearly five quarts of air. By each inspiration about forty cubic inches of air are received into the lungs, and at each expiration the same quantity is discharged. If, therefore, we calculate that twenty respirations take place in a minute, and forty cubic inches to be the amount of each inspiration, it follows, that in one minute, we inhale 800 cubic inches; in an hour, the quantity of air inspired will be 48,000 cubic inches; and in the twenty-four hours, it will amount to 1,152,000 cubic inches. This quantity of air will almost fill 78 wine hogsheads, and would weigh nearly 53 pounds. From this admirable provision of nature, by which the blood is made to pass in review, as it were, of this immense quantity of air, and over so extensive a surface, it seems obvious, that these two fluids are destined to exert some very important influence on each other; and it has been proved, by a very decisive experiment of Dr. Priestley’s, that the extremely thin membrane, which is alone interposed, does not prevent the exercise of the chemical affinity which prevails between the air which is received in the lungs, and the blood which is incessantly circulating through them. It must surely, therefore, be of the first importance to health, that the fluid of which we hourly inhale, at least, three hogsheads, should not be contaminated by the suspension of noxious effluvia.

The purity of the atmosphere may be impaired either by the operation of what some denominate natural causes, or by the influence of circumstances resulting from our social condition. Its chemical constitution is changed by respiration; the vital principle is destroyed, and its place supplied by a highly poisonous gas.

The emanations from the surface of our bodies contribute, in a still greater degree, to vitiate the atmosphere, and to render it less fit for the healthful support of life. Many of the organs which compose our wonderfully complicated frame are engaged in discharging the constituent parts of our bodies, which, by the exercise of the various animal functions, are become useless, and, if retained, would become noxious. Physiologists have instituted a variety of experiments, to ascertain the amount of the exhalations from the surface of the body. Sanctorius, an eminent Italian physician, from a series of experiments performed during a period of thirty years, estimates it as greater than the aggregate of all our other discharges. From his calculations it would appear, that if we take of liquid and solid food eight pounds in the twenty-four hours, that five pounds are discharged by perspiration alone, within that period; and of this, the greater part is what has been denominated insensible perspiration, from its not being cognizable to the senses. We may estimate the discharge from the surface of the body, by sensible and insensible perspiration, as from half an ounce to four ounces per hour.

The exhalations from the lungs and the skin are, to a certain extent, offensive even in the most healthy individuals; but when proceeding from those labouring under disease, they are in a state very little removed from putrefaction.

Animal miasmata, like all other poison, become more active in proportion to the quantity which we imbibe. When, therefore, the air is stagnant, and when many individuals contribute their respective supplies of effluvia to vitiate it, the atmosphere necessarily becomes satured with the poison; and when inhaled, conveys it in a more virulent and concentrated state to the extensive and delicate surface of the lungs.

The collection of animal effluvia in confined places, is the source of the generation and diffusion of febrile infection: but when the miasmata are respired, in a diluted state, the ill effects which they produce, though slower in their operation, are equally certain. They, to a certain extent, pollute the fountain of life, and ultimately break down the vigour of the most robust frame; impairing the action of the digestive organs, engendering the whole train of nervous disorders, and rendering the body more susceptible of disease.

The lungs and the skin may equally become the means of introducing poisonous or infectious matter into the constitution. The venom of a poisonous animal, the matter of small-pox, and many other contagions, produce their influence through the medium of the skin. Infectious diseases are communicated by the reception of air in our lungs, impregnated with contagious matter. The influence of the constant respiration of air in any degree impure, is fully evinced in the pallid countenances and languid frames of those who live in confined and ill-ventilated places; and the health of all classes of society suffers precisely in proportion to the susceptibility of their constitutions, and according to the greater or less impurities of the air which they habitually respire.

Of the offensive nature of animal effluvia, the senses of every one who enters a crowded assembly, must immediately convince him. When, therefore, we reflect on the state of the air which we breathe in churches, theatres, schools, and all crowded assemblies; and when we consider the amount of the exhalations emitted by each individual, and the very offensive nature of those emitted by many; and when, on the other hand, we take into consideration the importance of air to life, and the great quantity of this fluid which we daily respire, we must be naturally led to the adoption of such measures as would secure in our private dwellings, as well as in our public buildings, a full and unintermitting supply of fresh atmospheric air.

It is curious to observe the influence of habit, in reconciling us to many practices which would otherwise be considered in the highest degree offensive. Thus, while, with a fastidious delicacy, we avoid drinking from a cup which has been already pressed to the lips of our friends, we feel no hesitation in receiving into our lungs an atmosphere contaminated by the breath and exhalations of every promiscuous assembly.

“Were once the energy of air deny’d,
The heart would cease to pour its purple tide
The purple tide forget its wonted play,
Nor back again pursue its curious way.”

The next Subject of Curiosity we shall consider, is, The Hair of the Head.

If we consider the curious structure, and different uses of the hair of our heads, we shall find them very well worth our attention, and discover in them proofs of the wisdom and power of God.

In each entire hair we perceive with the naked eye, an oblong slender filament, and a bulb at the extremity thicker and more transparent than the rest of the hair. The filament forms the body of the hair, and the bulb the root. The large hairs have their root, and even part of the filament, enclosed in a small membraneous vessel or capsule. The size of this sheath is proportionate to the size of the root, being always rather larger, that the root may not be too much confined, and that some space may remain between it and the capsule. The root or bulb has two parts, the one external, the other internal. The external is a pellicle composed of small laminæ; the internal is a glutinous fluid, in which some fibres are united; it is the marrow of the root. From the external part of the bulb proceed five, and sometimes, though rarely, six small white threads, very delicate and transparent, and often twice as long as the root. Besides these threads, small knots are seen rising in different places; they are viscous, and easily dissolved by heat. From the interior part of the bulb proceeds the body of the hair, composed of three parts; the external sheath, the interior tubes, and the marrow.

When the hair has arrived at the pore of the skin through which it is to pass, it is strongly enveloped by the pellicle of the root, which forms here a very small tube. The hair then pushes the cuticle before it, and makes of it an external sheath, which defends it at the time when it is still very soft. The rest of the covering of the hair, is a peculiar substance, and particularly transparent at the point. In a young hair this sheath is very soft, but in time becomes so hard and elastic, that it springs back with some noise when it is cut. It preserves the hair a long time. Immediately beneath the sheath are several small fibres, which extend themselves along the hair from the root to the extremity. These are united amongst themselves, and with the sheath that is common to them, by several elastic threads; and these bundles of fibres form together a tube filled with two substances; the one fluid, the other solid; and these constitute the marrow of the hair.

The wonders of creating power are seen in every thing, even in the hair that adorns our surface.

All are but parts of one stupendous whole,
Whose body Nature is, and God the soul.
That, chang’d thro’ all, and yet in all the same;
Great in the earth, as in th’ ethereal frame;
Warms in the sun, refreshes in the breeze,
Glows in the stars, and blossoms in the trees,
Lives thro’ all life, extends thro’ all extent,
Spreads undivided, operates unspent;
Breathes in our soul, informs our mortal part,
As full, as perfect, in a hair as heart;
As full, as perfect, in vile Man that mourns,
As the rapt seraph that adores and burns:
To him no high, no low, no great, no small;
He fills, he bounds, connects, and equals all.
Pope.

We shall now introduce to our readers some Ancient and Modern Opinions respecting the Hair.

The ancients held the hair a sort of excrement, fed only with excrementitious matters, and no proper part of a living body. They supposed it generated of the fuliginous parts of the blood, exhaled by the heat of the body to the surface, and then condensed in passing through the pores. Their chief reasons were, that the hair being cut, will grow again, even in extreme old age, and when life is very low; that in hectic and consumptive people, where the rest of the body is continually emaciating, the hair thrives; nay, that it will even grow again in dead carcases. They added, that hair does not feed and grow like the other parts, by introsusception, i. e. by a juice circulating within it, but, like the nails, by juxtaposition. But the moderns are agreed, that every hair properly and truly lives, and receives nutriment to fill it, like the other parts; which they prove hence, that the roots do not turn grey in aged persons sooner than the extremities, but the whole changes colour at once; which shews that there is a direct communication, and that all the parts are affected alike. In strict propriety, however, it must be allowed, that the life and growth of hairs is of a different kind from that of the rest of the body, and is not immediately derived therefrom, or reciprocated therewith. It is rather of the nature of vegetation. They grow as plants do, or as some plants shoot from the parts of others; from which, though they draw their nourishment, yet each has, as it were, its distinct life and economy. They derive their food from some juices in the body, but not from the nutritious juices of the body; whence they may live, though the body be starved. Wulferus, in the Philosophical Collections, gives an account of a woman buried at Nurenberg, whose grave being opened forty-three years after her death, hair was found issuing forth plentifully through the clefts of the coffin. The cover being removed, the whole corpse appeared in its perfect shape; but, from the crown of the head to the sole of the foot, covered over with thick-set hair, long and curled. The sexton going to handle the upper part of the head with his fingers, the whole fell at once, leaving nothing in his hand but a handful of hair: there was neither skull nor any other bone left: yet the hair was solid and strong. Mr. Arnold, in the same collection, gives a relation of a man hanged for theft, who, in a little time, while he yet hung upon the gallows, had his body strangely covered over with hair.

Before we dismiss this subject, we shall give the following curious Instances of the Internal Growth of Hair.

Though the external surface of the body is the natural place for hairs, we have many well-attested instances of their being found also on the internal surface. Amatus Lusitanus mentions a person who had hair upon his tongue. Pliny and Valerius Maximus say, that the heart of Aristomenes the Messenian, was hairy. Cællus Rhodiginus relates the same of Hermogenes the rhetorician; and Plutarch, of Leonidas king of Sparta. Hairs are said to have been found in the breasts of women, and to have occasioned the distemper called trichiasis; but some authors are of opinion, that these are small worms, and not hairs. There have been, however, various and indisputable evidences of hairs found in the kidneys, and voided by natural discharge. Hippocrates says, that the glandular parts are the most subject to hair; but bundles of hair have been found in the muscular parts of beef, and in parts of the human body equally firm. Hair has been often found in abscesses and imposthumations. Schultetus, opening the abdomen of a human body, found twelve pints of water, and a large lock of hair swimming loosely in it. It has, however, been found on examination, that some of the internal parts of the body are more subject to an unnatural growth of hair than others. This has long been known to anatomists; and many memorable instances have been recorded by Dr. Tyson, and others. In some animals, hairs of a considerable length have been discovered growing in the internal parts; and on several occasions, they have been found lying loosely in the cavities of the veins. There are instances of mankind being affected in the same manner. Cardan relates, that he found hair in the blood of a Spaniard; Slonatius, in that of a gentlewoman of Cracovia; and Schultetus declares, from his own observation, that those people, who are afflicted with the plica polonica, have very often hair in their blood.

We shall, in the next place, call the reader’s attention to some Curious Remarks concerning the Beard.

A beard gives to the countenance a rough and fierce air, suited to the manners of a rough and fierce people. The same face without a beard appears milder; for which reason, a beard becomes unfashionable in a polished nation. Demosthenes, the orator, lived in the same period with Alexander the Great, at which time the Greeks began to leave off beards. A bust, however, of that orator, found in Herculaneum, has a beard, which must either have been done for him when he was young, or from reluctance in an old man to a new fashion. Barbers were brought to Rome from Sicily, the 454th year after the building of Rome. And it must relate to a time after that period, what Aulus Gellius says, that people accused of any crime were prohibited to shave their beards till they were absolved. From Hadrian downward, the Roman emperors wore beards. Julius Capitolinus reproaches the Emperor Verus for cutting his beard at the instigation of a concubine. All the Roman generals wore beards in Justinian’s time. The pope shaved his beard, which was held a manifest apostasy by the Greek church, because Moses, Jesus Christ, and even God the Father, were always drawn with beards by the Greek and Latin painters. Upon the dawn of smooth manners in France, the beaus cut the beards into shapes, and curled the whiskers. That fashion produced a whimsical effect: men of gravity left off beards altogether. A beard, in its natural shape, was too fierce even for them; and they could not, for shame, copy after the beaus. This accounts for a regulation, anno 1534, of the University of Paris, forbidding the professors to wear a beard.

Now follows, A curious account of Women with Beards.

Of women remarkably bearded we have several instances. In the cabinet of curiosities at Stutgard, in Germany, there is the portrait of a young woman, called Bartel Graetje, whose chin is covered with a very large beard. She was drawn in 1787, at which time she was but twenty-five years of age. There is likewise, in another cabinet, the same portrait of her when she was more advanced in life, but likewise with a beard. It is said, that the Duke of Saxony had the portrait of a poor Swiss woman taken, remarkable for her long bushy beard; and those who were at the carnival of Venice in 1726, saw a female dancer astonish the spectators, not more by her talents, than by her chin covered with a black bushy beard. Charles XII. had in his army a female grenadier, who wanted neither courage nor a beard to be a man. She was taken at the battle of Pultowa, and carried to Petersburg, where she was presented to the czar, in 1724: her beard measured a yard and a half. We read in the Trevoux Dictionary, that there was a woman seen at Paris, who had not only a bushy beard on her face, but her body likewise covered all over with hair. Among a number of other examples of this nature, that of the great Margaret, the governess of the Netherlands, is very remarkable. She had a very long stiff beard, which she prided herself on: and being persuaded that it contributed to give her an air of majesty, she took care not to lose a hair of it. It is said, that the Lombard women, when they were at war, made themselves beards with the hair of their heads, which they ingeniously arranged on their cheeks, that the enemy, deceived by the likeness, might take them for men. It is asserted, after Suidas, that in a similar case the Athenian women did as much. These women were more men than our Jemmy-Tessamy countrymen. About a century ago, the French ladies adopted a mode of dressing their hair in such a manner, that curls hung down their cheeks as far as their bosom. These curls went by the name of whiskers. This custom, undoubtedly, was not invented after the example of the Lombard women, to fight men.

We shall close this chapter with some curious observations on Sneezing.

The practice of saluting the person who sneezed existed in Africa, among nations unknown to the Greeks and Romans. Strada, in his Account of Monomotapa, informs us, (Prol. Acad.) that when the prince sneezes, all his subjects in the capital are advertised of it, that they may offer up prayers for his safety. The author of the conquest of Peru assures us, that the cacique of Gachoia having sneezed in the presence of the Spaniards, the Indians of his train fell prostrate before him, stretched forth their hands, and displayed to him the accustomed marks of respect, while they invoked the sun to enlighten him, to defend him, and to be his constant guard. The ancient Romans saluted each other on these occasions: and Pliny relates, that Tiberius exacted these signs of homage when drawn in his chariot. Superstition, whose influence debases every thing, had degraded this custom for several ages, by attaching favourable or unfavourable omens to sneezing, according to the hour of the day or night, according to the signs of the zodiac, according as a work was more or less advanced, or according as one had sneezed to the right or to the left. If a man sneezed at rising from table, or from his bed, it was necessary for him to sit or lie down again. ‘You are struck with astonishment,’ said Timotheus to the Athenians, who wished to return into the harbour with their fleet, because he had sneezed; ‘you are struck with astonishment, because among ten thousand there is one man whose brain is moist.’ It is singular enough, that so many ridiculous, contradictory, and superstitious opinions, have not abolished those customary civilities which are still preserved equally among high and low. The reason is obvious: they are preserved, because they are esteemed civilities, and because they cost nothing. Among the Greeks, sneezing was almost always a good omen. It excited marks of tenderness, of respect, and attachment. The young Parthenis, hurried on by her passion, resolved to write to Sarpedon an avowal of her love; she sneezes in the most tender and impassioned part of her letter: this is sufficient for her; this incident supplies the place of an answer, and persuades her that Sarpedon is her lover. Penelope, harassed by the vexatious courtship of her suitors, begins to curse them all, and to pour forth vows for the return of Ulysses. Her son Telemachus interrupts her by a loud sneeze. She instantly exults with joy, and regards this sign as an assurance of the approaching return of her husband. (Hom. Odyss. lib. xvii.). Xenophon was haranguing his troops; a soldier sneezed in the moment when he was exhorting them to embrace a dangerous but necessary resolution. The whole army, moved by this presage, determined to pursue the project of their general; and Xenophon orders sacrifices to Jupiter the preserver. This superstitious reverence for sneezing, so ancient, and so universal even in the times of Homer, excited the curiosity of the Greek philosophers, and of the rabbins. These last have a most absurd tradition respecting it. Aristotle remounts likewise to the sources of natural religion, because the brain is the origin of the nerves, of our sentiments, sensations, &c. Such were the opinions of the most ancient and sagacious philosophers of Greece; and mythologists affirmed, that the first sign of life Prometheus’s artificial man gave, was by sternutation.

CHAP. II.

CURIOSITIES RESPECTING MAN.—(Continued.)

Difference between the Sexes—Comparative Number of the Sexes at a Birth—Extraordinary Prolification—Extraordinary Instances of Rapid Growth—Giants—Dwarfs—Kimos—Curious Account of the Abderites—Account of a Country in which the Inhabitants reside in Trees.

Difference between the Sexes.

O woman, lovely woman! Nature made you
To temper man!—————
Angels are painted fair to look like you.
There’s in you all that we believe of heav’n,
Amazing brightness, purity, and truth,
Eternal joy, and everlasting love!
Otway.
Under his forming hands a creature grew;
—————————————adorn’d
With what all earth or heaven could bestow,
To make her amiable.————
Grace was in all her steps, heav’n in her eye,
In every gesture dignity and love.
Milton.

Lavater has drawn the following characteristic distinctions between the male and female of the human species. The primary matter of which women are constituted, appears to be more flexible, irritable, and elastic, than that of man. They are formed to maternal mildness and affection; all their organs are tender, yielding, easily wounded, sensible, and receptible. Among a thousand females, there is scarcely one without the generic feminine signs,—the flexible, the circular, and the irritable. They are the counterpart of man, taken out of man, to be subject to man; to comfort him like angels; and to lighten his cares. This tenderness, this sensibility, this light texture of their fibres and organs, this volatility of feeling, render them so easy to conduct and to tempt, so ready of submission to the enterprise and power of the man; but more powerful, through the aid of their charms, than man with all his strength. The female thinks not profoundly; profound thought is the power of the man. Women feel more. Sensibility is the power of woman: they often rule more effectually, more sovereignly, than man. They rule with tender looks, tears, and sighs, but not with passion and threats; for if, or when, they so rule, they are no longer women but abortions. They are capable of the sweetest sensibility, the most profound emotion, the utmost humility, and the excess of enthusiasm. In their countenance are the signs of sanctity and inviolability, which every feeling man honours, and the effects of which are often miraculous. Therefore, by the irritability of their nerves, their incapacity for deep inquiry and firm decision, they may easily, from their extreme sensibility, become the most irreclaimable, the most rapturous enthusiasts. Their love, strong and rooted as it is, is very changeable; their hatred almost incurable. Men are most profound; women are more sublime. Man hears the bursting thunder, views the destructive bolt with serene aspect, and stands erect amidst the fearful majesty of the streaming clouds; woman trembles at the lightning, and the voice of distant thunder; and sinks into the arms of man. Woman is in anguish when man weeps, and in despair when man is in anguish; yet has she often more faith than man. Man, without religion, is a diseased creature, who would persuade himself he is well, and needs not a physician; but women without religion are monstrous. A woman with a beard is not so disgusting as a woman who is a free-thinker; her sex is formed to piety and religion: to them Christ first appeared. The whole world is forgotten in the emotion caused by the presence and proximity of him they love. They sink into the most incurable melancholy, as they also rise to the most enraptured heights. Male sensations is more imagination, female more heart. When communicative, they are more communicative than man; when secret, more secret. In general they are more patient, long-suffering, credulous, benevolent, and modest. They differ also in their interior form and appearance. Man is the most firm; woman is the most flexible. Man is the straightest; woman the most bending. Man is serious; woman is gay. Man is the tallest and broadest; woman the smallest and weakest. Man is rough and hard; woman smooth and soft. Man is brown; woman is fair. Man is wrinkly; woman is not. The hair of man is more strong and short; of woman more long and pliant. The eye-brows of man are compressed; and of woman less frowning. Man has most convex lines; woman most concave. Man has most straight lines; woman most curved. The countenance of man, taken in profile, is more seldom perpendicular than that of woman. Man is most angular; woman most round.

In determining the comparative merit of the two sexes, if it should be found (what is indeed the fact) that women fill up their appointed circle of action with greater regularity than men, the claim of preference must decide in their favour. In the prudential and economical parts of life, they rise far above us.

The following is a very curious calculation of The Comparative Number of the Sexes at a Birth.

The celebrated M. Hufeland, of Berlin, has inserted in his Journal of Practical Medicine, some interesting observations in illustration of the comparative numbers of the sexes at a birth. The number of males born, to that of females, observes the learned Professor, seems to be 21 to 20 over the whole earth; and before they reach the age of puberty, the proportion of the sexes is reduced to perfect equality; more boys than girls die before they are fourteen. After extending his interesting comparison over animated nature in general, Professor Hufeland enters into an inquiry, peculiar to himself, in endeavouring to ascertain the principles and commencement of the equality of the sexes. In some families, says he, equality evidently does not hold. In some, the children are all boys; in others, all girls. He next proceeds to take several families, as 20, 30, 40, or 50, in one place, in conjunction; or small villages of 150 or 300 inhabitants. But even then, the just proportion was not yet established. In some years, only boys, in others only girls were born; nay, this disproportion continued for a series of a year or two; but by uniting ten or fifteen years together, the regular equality appeared. He next considered, that what took place in small populations must take place every year in larger societies; and he accordingly found it confirmed by actual enumeration. He went so far as, by the aid of the minister of state, Schackman, to ascertain the comparative number of boys and girls born in one day over the whole Prussian dominions, and the result corresponded with his anticipations. The general conclusions arrived at by M. Hufeland, are as follow:—

1st. There is an equal number of males and females born in the human race.—2d. The equality occurs every day in a population of ten millions.—3d. Every week in 100,000.—4th. Every month in 50,000.—5th. Every year in 10,000.—6th. And in small societies of several families, every ten or fifteen years.—7th. That it does not occur in individual families.

The reader will be amused by the following instances of Extraordinary Prolification.

The prolific powers of some individuals among mankind are very extraordinary. Instances have been found where children, to the number of six, seven, eight, nine, and sometimes sixteen, have been brought forth at one birth. The wife of Emmanuel Gago, a labourer near Valladolid, was delivered, the 14th of June, 1799, of five girls. The celebrated Tarsin was brought to bed in the seventh month, at Argenteuil near Paris, 17th of July, 1779, of three boys, each fourteen inches and a half long, and of a girl thirteen inches: they were all baptized, but did not live twenty-four hours. In June, 1799, one Maria Ruiz, of Lucena in Andalusia, was successively delivered of sixteen boys, without any girls: seven of them were alive on the 17th of August following. In 1535, a Muscovite peasant, named James Kyrloff, and his wife, were presented to the Empress of Russia. This peasant had been twice married, and was then seventy years of age. His first wife was brought to bed twenty-one times; namely, four times of four children each time, seven times of three, and ten times of two; making in all fifty-seven children, who were then alive. His second wife, who accompanied him, had been delivered seven times, once of three children, and six times of twins. Thus he had seventy-two children by his two marriages.

We now proceed to narrate some Extraordinary Instances of Rapid Growth.

A remarkable instance of rapid growth in the human species was noticed in France, in 1729, by the Academy of Sciences. It was a lad, then only seven years old, who measured four feet eight inches and four lines high, without his shoes. His mother observed his extraordinary growth and strength at two years old, which continued to increase with such rapidity, that he soon arrived at the usual standard. At four years old he was able to lift and throw the common bundles of hay in stables into the horses’ racks; and at six years old, he could lift as much as a sturdy fellow of twenty. But although he thus increased in bodily strength, his understanding was no greater than is usual with children of his age; and their playthings were also his favourite amusements.

Another boy, a native of Bouzanquet, in the diocese of Alais, though of a strong constitution, appeared to be knit and stiff in his joints, till he was about four years and a half old. During this time, nothing farther was remarkable respecting him, than an extraordinary appetite, which nothing could satisfy, but an abundance of the common aliments of the inhabitants of the country, consisting of rye bread, chesnuts, bacon, and water. His limbs, however, soon becoming supple and pliable, and his body beginning to expand itself, he grew up in such an extraordinary manner, that at the age of five years he measured four feet three inches. Some months after, he was four feet eleven inches; and at six, five feet, and bulky in proportion. His growth was so rapid, that every month his clothes required to be made longer and wider; yet it was not preceded by any sickness, nor accompanied with any pain. At the age of five years his voice changed, his beard began to appear; and at six, he had as much as a man of thirty; in short, all the unquestionable marks of maturity were visible in him. Though his wit was riper than is commonly observable at the age of five or six, yet its progress was not in proportion to that of his body. His air and manner still retained something childish, though by his bulk and stature he resembled a complete man, which at first sight produced a very singular contrast. His voice was strong and manly, and his great strength rendered him already fit for the labours of the country. At five, he could carry to a great distance, three measures of rye, weighing eighty-four pounds; when turned of six, he could lift up easily to his shoulders, and carry loads of one hundred and fifty pounds weight to a great distance; and these exercises were exhibited by him as often as the curious engaged him thereto by some liberality. Such beginnings made people think that he should soon shoot up into a giant. A mountebank was already soliciting his parents for him, and flattering them with hopes of putting him in a way of making a great fortune. But all these hopes suddenly vanished. His legs became crooked, his body shrunk, his strength diminished, his voice grew sensibly weaker, and he at last sunk into a total imbecility;—thus his rapid maturity was followed by as swift decay.

In the Paris Memoirs, there is an account of a girl, who, when four years old, was four feet six inches in height, and had her limbs well proportioned, and her breasts fully expanded, like those of a girl of eighteen. These things are more singular and marvellous in the northern than in the southern climates, where females come sooner to maturity. In some places of the East Indies, they have children at nine years of age. It seems at first view astonishing, that children of such early and prodigious growth do not become giants; but it appears evident, that the whole is only a premature expansion of the parts; and accordingly, such children, instead of becoming giants, always decay and die apparently of old age, long before the natural term of human life.

As it is our intention in this work to keep as close as possible to facts, we shall not, knowingly, deal in fiction or fable. It is from a most respectable source that we have derived the following Curious Account of Giants.

M. Le Cat, in a memoir read before the Academy of Sciences at Rouen, gives the following account of giants that are said to have existed in different ages. Profane historians have given seven feet of height to Hercules, their first hero; and in our days we have seen men eight feet high. The giant, who was shown in Rouen, in 1735, measured eight feet some inches. The emperor Maximin was of that size. Shenkins and Platerus, physicians of the last century, saw several of that stature; and Goropius saw a girl who was ten feet high. The body of Orestes, according to the Greeks, was eleven feet and a half; the giant Galbara, brought from Arabia to Rome, under Claudius Cæsar, was near ten feet; and the bones of Secondilla and Pusio, keepers of the gardens of Sallust, were but six inches shorter. Funnam, a Scotsman, who lived in the time of Eugene II. king of Scotland, measured eleven feet and a half; and Jacob Le Maire, in his voyage to the Straits of Magellan, reports, that on the 17th of December, 1615, they found at Port Desire, several graves covered with stones; and having the curiosity to remove the stones, they discovered human skeletons of ten and eleven feet long. The Chevalier Scory, in his voyage to the Peak of Teneriffe, says, that they found, in one of the sepulchral caverns of that mountain, the head of a gaunche, which had eighty teeth, and that the body was not less than fifteen feet long. The giant Ferragus, slain by Orlando, nephew of Charlemagne, was eighteen feet high. Rioland, a celebrated anatomist, who wrote in 1614, says, that some years before, there was to be seen, in the suburbs of St. Germain, the tomb of the great giant Isoret, who was twenty feet high. In Rouen, in 1509, in digging in the ditches near the Dominicans, they found a stone tomb, containing a skeleton whose skull held a bushel of corn, and whose shin bone reached up to the girdle of the tallest man there, being about four feet long; and, consequently, the body must have been seventeen or eighteen feet high. Upon the tomb was a plate of copper, whereon was engraved, “In this tomb lies the noble and puissant lord, the Chevalier Ricon De Vallemont, and his bones.” Platerus, a famous physician, declares, that he saw at Lucerne, the true human body of a subject which must have been at least nineteen feet high. Valence, in Dauphiné, boasts of possessing the bones of the giant Bucart, tyrant of the Vivarias, who was slain with an arrow by the Count De Cabillon, his vassal. The Dominicans had a part of the shin bone, with the articulation of his knee, and his figure painted in fresco, with an inscription, showing “that this giant was twenty-two feet and a half high, and that his bones were found in 1705, near the banks of the Morderi, a little river at the foot of the mountain of Crusal, upon which (tradition says) the giant dwelt.” M. Le Cat adds, that skeletons have been discovered of giants, of a still more incredible height, viz. of Theutobochus, king of the Teutones, found on the 11th of January, 1613, twenty-five feet and a half high; of a giant near Mazarino, in Sicily, in 1516, thirty feet; of another, in 1548, near Palermo, thirty feet; of another, in 1550, of thirty-three feet; of two found near Athens, thirty-three and thirty-six feet; and of one at Tuto, in Bohemia, in 1758, whose leg bones alone measured twenty-six feet! But whether these accounts are credited or not, we are certain that the stature of the human body is by no means fixed. We are ourselves a kind of giants, in comparison of the Laplanders; nor are these the most diminutive people to be found upon the earth.

The Abbé La Chappe, in his journey into Siberia, to observe the last transit of Venus, passed through a village inhabited by people called Wotiacks, who were not above four feet high. The accounts of the Patagonians likewise, which cannot be entirely discredited, render it very probable, that somewhere in South America there is a race of people very considerably exceeding the common size of mankind; and consequently that we cannot altogether discredit the relations of giants, handed down to us by ancient authors, though what degree of credit we ought to give them, is not easy to be determined.

No less true than remarkable is the following Curious Account of Dwarfs.

Jeffery Hudson, the famous English dwarf, was born at Oakham in Rutlandshire, in 1619; and about the age of seven or eight, being then but eighteen inches high, was retained in the service of the Duke of Buckingham, who resided at Burleigh on the Hill. Soon after the marriage of Charles I. the king and queen being entertained at Burleigh, little Jeffrey was served up to table in a cold pie, and presented by the duchess to the queen, who kept him as her dwarf. From seven years till thirty, he never grew taller; but after thirty he shot up to three feet nine inches, and there fixed. Jeffery became a considerable part of the entertainment of the court. Sir William Davenant wrote a poem called Jeffreidos, on a battle between him and a turkey cock; and in 1638 was published a very small book, called the New Year’s Gift, presented at court by the Lady Parvula to the Lord Minimus, (commonly called Little Jeffery,) her majesty’s servant, written by Microphilus, with a little print of Jeffery prefixed. Before this period, Jeffery was employed on a negociation of great importance: he was sent to France to fetch a midwife for the queen; and on his return with this gentlewoman, and her majesty’s dancing-master, and many rich presents to the queen from her mother Mary de Medicis, he was taken by the Dunkirkers. Jeffery, thus made of consequence, grew to think himself really so. He had borne with little temper the teazing of the courtiers and domestics, and had many squabbles with the king’s gigantic porter. At last, being provoked by Mr. Crofts, a young gentleman of family, a challenge ensued: and Mr. Crofts coming to the rendezvous armed only with a squirt, the little creature was so enraged, that a real duel ensued; and the appointment being on horseback, with pistols, to put them more on a level, Jeffery, at the first fire, shot his antagonist dead. This happened in France, whither he had attended his mistress during the troubles. He was again taken prisoner by a Turkish rover, and sold into Barbary. He probably did not remain long in slavery, for, at the beginning of the civil war, he was made a captain in the royal army; and in 1644, attended the queen to France, where he remained till the Restoration. At last, upon suspicion of his being privy to the Popish plot, he was taken up in 1682, and confined in the Gate-house of Westminster, where he ended his life in the sixty-third year of his age.

THE ORANG-OUTANG,
Satyr, Great Ape, or Man of the Woods.—[Page 178.]

JEFFREY HUDSON.—[Page 40.]

A remarkable English dwarf who flourished in the reigns of
Charles the First and Charles the Second. The female figure
is the midwife whom he brought from France for the Queen.

In the memoirs of the Royal Academy of Sciences, a relation is given by the Count de Tressau, of a dwarf, called Bebe, kept by Stanislaus III. king of Poland; who died in 1764, aged twenty-three, when he measured only thirty-three inches. At his birth, he measured only between eight and nine inches. Diminutive as were his dimensions, his reasoning faculties were not less scanty; appearing indeed not to have been superior to those of a well-taught pointer: but, that the size and strength of the intellectual powers are not affected by the diminutiveness or tenuity of the corporeal organs, is evident from a still more striking instance of littleness, given us by the same nobleman, in the person of Monsieur Borulawski, a Polish gentleman, whom he saw at Luneville, whence he visited Paris, and who, at the age of twenty-two, measured only twenty-eight inches. This miniature of a man, considering him only as to his bodily dimensions, appears a giant with regard to his mental powers and attainments. He is described by the count as possessing all the graces of wit, united with a sound judgment and an excellent memory; so that we may with justice say of M. Borulawski, in the words of Seneca, and nearly in the order in which he has used them, “Posse ingenium, fortissimum ac beatissimum, sub quolibet corpusculo latere.” Epist. 66. Count Borulawski was the son of a Polish nobleman attached to the fortunes of King Stanislaus, who lost his property in consequence of that attachment, and who had six children; three dwarfs, and three well grown. What is singular enough, they were born alternately, a big one and a little one, though both parents were of the common size. The little count’s youngest sister was much less than him, but died at the age of twenty-three. The count continued to grow till he was about thirty, when he had attained the height of three feet two inches: he lived to see his fifty-first year. He never experienced any sickness, but lived in a polite and affluent manner, under the patronage of a lady, a friend of the family, till love, at the age of forty-one, intruded into his little peaceful bosom, and involved him in matrimony, care, and perplexity. The lady he chose was of his own country, but of French extraction, and the middle size. They had three children, all girls, and none of them likely to be dwarfs. To provide for a family now became an object big with difficulty, requiring all the exertion of his powers (which could promise but little) and his talents, of which music alone afforded any view of profit. He played extremely well upon the guitar; and by having concerts in several of the principal cities in Germany, he raised temporary supplies. At Vienna he was persuaded to turn his thoughts to England, where, it was believed, the public curiosity might in a little time benefit him sufficiently to enable him to live independent in so cheap a country as Poland. He was furnished by very respectable friends with recommendations to several of the most distinguished characters in this kingdom, as the Duchess of Devonshire, Rutland, &c. whose kind patronage he was not backward to acknowledge. He was advised to let himself be seen as a curiosity, and the price of admission was fixed at a guinea. The number of his visitors, of course, was not very great. After a pretty long stay in London, he went to Bath and Bristol; visited Dublin, and some other parts of Ireland; whence he returned by way of Liverpool, Manchester, and Birmingham, to London. He also visited Edinburgh, and some other towns in Scotland. In every place he acquired a number of friends. In reality, the ease and politeness of his manners and address pleased no less than the diminutive yet elegant proportions of his figure, astonished those who visited him. His person was pleasing and graceful, and his look manly and noble. He spoke French fluently, and English tolerably. He was remarkably lively and cheerful, though fitted for the most serious and rational conversation. Such was this wonderful little man—an object of curiosity really worthy the attention of the philosopher, the man of taste, and the anatomist. His life has been published, written by himself.

The following account of a singular nation of dwarfs, is taken from the Monthly Review for 1792, being Vol. 7, of the new series. The subject is a review of “A Voyage to Madagascar; by the Abbé Rochon.” They are called The Kimos.

The Kimos are a nation of pigmies, said to inhabit the mountains in the interior part of the island of Madagascar, of whom tradition has long encouraged the belief:—but Flacourt, in the last century, treated the stories then in circulation with great contempt. The Abbé Rochon, however, has revived them; and has not only given them the sanction of his own belief, but that of M. Commerson, and of M. de Modave, the late Governor of Fort Dauphin. As their opinions are of weight, and as the subject is curious, we shall present our readers with an epitome of the memoirs which these gentlemen drew up concerning the Kimos, and which our author has inserted entire in the body of his work.

“Lovers of the marvellous, (says M. Commerson,) who would be sorry to have the pretended size of the Patagonian giants reduced to six feet, will perhaps be made some amends by a race of pigmies, who are wonderful in the contrary extreme. I mean those half men, who inhabit the interior part of the great island of Madagascar, and form a distinct nation, called, in the language of the country, Kimos. These little men are of a paler colour than the rest of the natives, who are in general black. Their arms are so long, that when stretched out, they reach to the knees, without stooping. The women have scarcely breasts sufficient to mark their sex, except at the time of lying-in; and even then they are obliged to have recourse to cow’s milk, to feed their children.

“The intellectual faculties of this diminutive race are equal to those of the other inhabitants of the island, who are by no means deficient in understanding, though extremely indolent. Indeed, the Kimos are said to be much more active and warlike, so that their courage being in a duplicate ratio of their size, they have never suffered themselves to be oppressed and subdued by their neighbours, who have often attempted it. It is astonishing, that all we know of this nation is from the neighbouring people; and that neither the governors of the Isle of France, of Bourbon, nor the commanders of our forts on the coast of Madagascar, have ever endeavoured to penetrate into this country. It has indeed been lately attempted, but without success.

“I shall however attest, as an eye-witness, that in a voyage which I made in 1770 to Fort Dauphin, M. de Modave, the last governor, gratified my curiosity, by shewing me, among his slaves, a female of the Kimos tribe, about thirty years of age, and three feet seven inches high. She was of a much paler colour than any other natives of Madagascar that I had seen, was well-made, and did not appear misshapen, nor stinted in her growth, as accidental dwarfs usually are. Her arms were indeed too long, in proportion to her height, and her hair was short and woolly: but her countenance was good, and rather resembled that of an European than an African. She had a natural habitual smile on her face, was good-humoured, and seemed, by her behaviour, to possess a good understanding. No appearance of breasts was observable, except nipples: but this single instance is not sufficient to establish an exception so contrary to the general law of nature. A little before our departure from Madagascar, the desire of recovering her liberty, joined to the fear of being carried into France, stimulated this little slave to run away into the woods.

“On the whole, I conclude, in firmly believing the existence of this diminutive race of human beings, who have a character and manners peculiar to themselves. The Laplanders seem to be the medium between men of the common size and these dwarfs. Both inhabit the coldest countries and the highest mountains upon the earth. These of Madagascar, on which the Kimos reside, are sixteen or seventeen hundred toises, or fathoms, above the level of the sea. The plants and vegetables which grow on these heights, are naturally dwarfs.”

M. de Modave says,—“When I arrived at Fort Dauphin, in 1768, I had a memoir put into my hands, which was ill drawn up, giving an account of a pigmy race of people, called Kimos, who inhabit the middle region of Madagascar, in latitude 22°. I tried to verify the fact, by preparing for an expedition into the country which is said to be thus inhabited: but by the infidelity and cowardice of the guides, my scheme failed. Yet I had such indisputable information of this extraordinary fact, that I have not the least doubt of the existence of such a nation. The common size of the men is three feet five inches. They wear long round beards. The women are some inches shorter than the men, who are thick and stout. Their colour is less black and swarthy than that of the natives; their hair is short and cottony. They forge iron and steel, of which they make their lances and darts; the only weapons that they use. The situation of their country is about sixty leagues to the north-west of Fort Dauphin. I procured a female of this nation, but she was said to be much taller than usual among the Kimos, for she was three feet seven inches in height. She was very thin, and had no more appearance of breasts than the leanest man.”

To these relations, the Abbé Rochon says, he might add that of an officer who had procured a Kimos man, and would have brought him to Europe, but M. de Surville, who commanded the vessel in which he was to embark, refused to grant his permission.

Respectable historians have presented us with the following curious account of the Abderites, or Inhabitants of Abdera.

It is reported, that in the reign of Cassander, king of Macedon, they were so pestered with frogs and rats, that they were obliged to desert their city for some time: and Lucian tells us, that in the reign of Lysimachus, they were for some months afflicted with a fever of a most extraordinary nature, whose crisis was always on the seventh day, and then it left them; but it so distracted their imaginations, that they fancied themselves players. After this, they were ever repeating verses from some tragedy, and particularly out of the Andromeda of Euripides, as if they had been upon the stage; so that many of these pale, meagre actors, were pouring forth tragic exclamations in every street. This delirium continued till the winter following; which was a very cold one, and therefore fitter to remove it. Lucian, who has described this disease, endeavours to account for it in this way:—Archelaus, an excellent player, acted the Andromeda of Euripides before the Abderites, in the height of a very hot summer. Several had a fever at their coming out of the theatre, and as their imaginations were full of the tragedy, the delirium, which the fever raised, perpetually represented Andromeda, Perseus, Medusa, &c. and the several dramatic incidents, and called up the ideas of those objects, and the pleasure of the representation, so strongly, that they could not forbear imitating Archelaus’ action and declamation: and from these the fever spread to others by infection.

A most respectable writer (Madame De Genlis) has given us the following curious account of a Country, the Inhabitants of which reside in Trees.

A young Spanish adventurer, of the name of Vasco Nugnez, whom a handsome figure, united to a natural wit and courage, advanced to the highest eminence of glory and fortune; pursuing his researches over the Darien, a region abounding in lakes and marshes, arrived in a country where the houses were of a very singular contrivance, being built in the largest trees, the branches of which enveloped the sides, and formed the roof. They contained chambers and closets of a tolerable construction. Each family was separately lodged. Every house had two ladders, one of which reached from the foot to the middle of the tree, and the other from thence to the entrance of the highest chamber: they were composed of cane, and so light as to be easily lifted up, which was done every night, and formed a security from the attacks of tigers and other wild beasts, with which this province abounds. The chief of the country was in his palace, that is to say—his tree, when the Castilians came among them. On seeing the strangers, he hastened to draw up his ladders, while the Spaniards called to him aloud to descend without fear. He replied, that being unconscious of having offended any one, and having no concern with strangers, he begged he might be suffered to remain undisturbed in his habitation. On this they threatened to cut down or set fire to his tree, and at length obliged him to descend with his two sons. To their inquiries, ‘if he had any gold,’ he replied, that he had none there, because it was of no use to him; but, if they would suffer him to go, he would fetch them some from a neighbouring mountain. The Castilians the more readily believed the promise, as he consented to leave with them his wife and children. But after having waited some days for his return, they discovered that this pretence was only a stratagem to withdraw himself from their hands; that their hostages likewise, during the night, had found an opportunity of escaping by means of their ladders, and that the inhabitants of every neighbouring tree had, in the same manner, fled.

CHAP. III.

CURIOSITIES RESPECTING MAN.—(Continued.)

Astonishing Acquisitions made by Blind Persons—Wonderful Performances of a Female, blind almost from Infancy—Wonderful Instances of Adroitness of Persons born defective in their Limbs—Curious Account of Incapacity of distinguishing Colours—Ventriloquism—Sword-swallowing.

Astonishing Acquisitions made by Blind Persons.

We find various recompenses for blindness, or substitutes for the use of the eyes, in the wonderful sagacity of many blind persons, recited by Zahnius, in his ‘Oculus Artificialis,’ and others. In some, the defect has been supplied by a most excellent gift of remembering what they had seen; in others, by a delicate nose, or the sense of smelling; in others, by an exquisite touch, or a sense of feeling, which they have had in such perfection, that, as it has been said of some, they learned to hear with their eyes, so it may be said of these, that they taught themselves to see with their hands. Some have been enabled to perform all sorts of curious and subtle works in the nicest and most dexterous manner.—Aldrovanus speaks of a sculptor who became blind at twenty years of age, and yet, ten years after, made a perfect marble statue of Cosmo II. de Medicis; and another of clay, like Urban VIII. Bartholin tells us of a blind sculptor in Denmark, who distinguished perfectly well, by mere touch, not only all kinds of wood, but all the colours; and F. Grimaldi gives an instance of the like kind; besides the blind organist, living in Paris, who is said to have done the same. The most extraordinary of all is a blind guide, who, according to the report of good writers, used to conduct the merchants through the sands and deserts of Arabia.

James Bernouilli contrived a method of teaching blind persons to write. An instance, no less extraordinary, is mentioned by Dr. Bew, in the “Transactions of the Manchester Society.” It is that of a person, whose name is John Metcalf, a native of the neighbourhood of Manchester, who became blind at so early an age as to be altogether unconscious of light, and its various effects. His employment in the younger period of his life was that of a waggoner, and occasionally as a guide in intricate roads during the night, or when the common tracks were covered with snow. Afterwards he became a projector and surveyor of highways in difficult and mountainous parts; and, in this capacity, with the assistance merely of a long staff, he traverses the roads, ascends precipices, explores valleys, and investigates their several extents, forms, and situations, so as to answer his purpose in the best manner. His plans are designed, and his estimates formed, with such ability and accuracy, that he has been employed in altering most of the roads over the Peak in Derbyshire, particularly those in the vicinity of Buxton; and in constructing a new one between Wilmslow and Congleton, so as to form a communication between the great London road, without being obliged to pass over the mountain.

Although blind persons have occasion, in a variety of respects, to deplore their infelicity, their misery is in a considerable degree alleviated by advantages peculiar to themselves. They are capable of a more fixed and steady attention to the objects of their mental contemplation, than those who are distracted by the view of a variety of external scenes. Their want of sight naturally leads them to avail themselves of their other organs of corporeal sensation, and with this view to cultivate and improve them as much as possible. Accordingly, they derive relief and assistance from the quickness of their hearing, the acuteness of their smell, and the sensibility of their touch, which persons who see are apt to disregard.

Many contrivances have also been devised by the ingenious, for supplying the want of sight, and for facilitating those analytical or mechanical operations, which would otherwise perplex the most vigorous mind, and the most retentive memory. By means of these, they have become eminent proficients in various departments of science. Indeed, there are few sciences in which, with or without mechanical helps, the blind have not distinguished themselves. The case of Professor Saunderson at Cambridge, is well known. His attainments and performances in the languages, and also as a learner and teacher in the abstract mathematics, in philosophy, and in music, have been truly astonishing; and the account of them appears to be almost incredible, if it were not amply attested and confirmed by many other instances of a similar kind, both in ancient and modern times.

Cicero mentions it as a fact scarcely credible, with respect to his master in philosophy, Diodotus, that “he exercised himself in it with greater assiduity after he became blind; and, which he thought next to impossible to be performed without sight, that he professed geometry, and described his diagrams so accurately to his scholars, as to enable them to draw every line in its proper direction.”

Jerome relates a more remarkable instance of Didymus in Alexandria, who “though blind from his infancy, and therefore ignorant of the letters, appeared so great a miracle to the world, as not only to learn logic, but geometry also to perfection; which seems (he adds) the most of any thing to require the help of sight.”

Professor Saunderson, who was deprived of his sight by the small-pox when he was only twelve months old, seems to have acquired most of his ideas by the sense of feeling; and though he could not distinguish colours by that sense, which, after repeated trials, he said was pretending to impossibilities, yet he was able, with the greatest exactness, to discriminate the minutest difference between rough and smooth on a surface, or the least defect of polish. In a set of Roman medals, he could distinguish the genuine from the false, though they had been counterfeited in such a manner as to deceive a connoisseur, who judged of them by the eye. His sense of feeling was so acute, that he could perceive the least variation in the state of the air; and, it is said, that in a garden where observations were made on the sun, he took notice of every cloud that interrupted the observation, almost as justly as those who could see it. He could tell when any thing was held near his face, or when he passed by a tree at no great distance, provided the air was calm, and there was little or no wind; this he did by the different pulse of air upon his face. He possessed a sensibility of hearing to such a degree, that he could distinguish even the fifth part of a note; and, by the quickness of this sense, he not only discriminated persons with whom he had once conversed so long as to fix in his memory the sound of their voice, but he could judge of the size of a room into which he was introduced, and of his distance from the wall; and if he had ever walked over a pavement in courts, piazzas, &c. which reflected a sound, and was afterwards conducted thither again, he could exactly tell in what part of the walk he was placed, merely by the note which it sounded.

Sculpture and painting are arts which, one would imagine, are of very difficult and almost impracticable attainment to blind persons; and yet instances occur, which shew, that they are not excluded from the pleasing, creative, and extensive regions of fancy.

De Piles mentions a blind sculptor, who thus took the likeness of the Duke de Bracciano in a dark cellar, and made a marble statue of King Charles I. with great justness and elegance. However unaccountable it may appear to the abstract philosopher, yet nothing is more certain in fact, than that a blind man may, by the inspiration of the Muses, or rather by the efforts of a cultivated genius, exhibit in poetry the most natural images and animated descriptions even of visible objects, without deservedly incurring the charge of plagiarism. We need not recur to Homer and Milton for attestations to this fact; they had probably been long acquainted with the visible world before they had lost their sight, and their descriptions might be animated with all the rapture and enthusiasm which originally fired their bosoms, when the grand and delightful objects delineated by them were immediately beheld. We are furnished with instances in which a similar energy and transport of description, at least in a very considerable degree, have been exhibited by those on whose minds visible objects were never impressed, or have been entirely obliterated.

Dr. Blacklock affords a surprising instance of this kind; who, though he had lost his sight before he was six months old, not only made himself master of various languages, Greek, Latin, Italian, and French; but acquired the reputation of an excellent poet, whose performances abound with appropriate images and animated descriptions.

Dr. Nicholas Bacon, a blind gentleman, descended from the same family with the celebrated Lord Verulam, was, in the city of Brussels, with high approbation created LL. D. He was deprived of sight at nine years of age by an arrow from a cross-bow, whilst he was attempting to shoot it. When he had recovered his health, which had suffered by the shock, he pursued the same plan of education in which he had been engaged; and having heard that one Nicasius de Vourde, born blind, who lived towards the end of the fifteenth century, after having distinguished himself by his studies in the university of Louvain, took his degree as D. D. in that of Cologne, he resolved to make the same attempt. After continuing his studies in learning philosophy and law a sufficient time, he took his degree, commenced pleading as counsellor or advocate in the council of Brabant, and has had the pleasure of terminating almost every suit in which he has been engaged to the satisfaction of his clients.

Another instance, which deserves being recorded, is that of Dr. Henry Moyes, in our own country; who, though blind from his infancy, by the ardour and assiduity of his application, and by the energy of native genius, not only made incredible advances in mechanical operations, in music, and in the languages; but acquired an extensive acquaintance with geometry, optics, algebra, astronomy, chemistry, and all other branches of natural philosophy.

From the account of Dr. Moyes, who occasionally read lectures on philosophical chemistry at Manchester, delivered to the Manchester Society by Dr. Bew, it appears, that mechanical exercises were the favourite employment of his infant years: and that at a very early age he was so well acquainted with the use of edge-tools, as to be able to construct little windmills, and even a loom. By the sound, and the different voices of the persons that were present, he was directed in his judgment of the dimensions of the room in which they were assembled; and in this respect he determined with such a degree of accuracy, as seldom to be mistaken. His memory was singularly retentive; so that he was capable of recognizing a person on his first speaking, though he had not been in company with him for two years. He determined with surprising exactness the stature of those with whom he conversed, by the direction of their voices; and he made tolerable conjectures concerning their dispositions, by the manner in which they conducted their conversation. His eyes, though he never recollected having seen, were not totally insensible to intense light: but the rays refracted through a prism, when sufficiently vivid, produced distinguishable effects upon them. The red produced a disagreeable sensation, which he compared to the touch of a saw. As the colours declined in violence, the harshness lessened, until the green afforded a sensation that was highly pleasing to him, and which he described as conveying an idea similar to that which he gained by running his hand over smooth polished surfaces. Such surfaces, meandering streams, and gentle declivities, were the figures by which he expressed his ideas of beauty; rugged rocks, irregular points, and boisterous elements, furnished him with expressions for terror and disgust. He excelled in the charms of conversation; was happy in his allusions to visual objects, and discoursed on the nature, composition, and beauty of colours, with pertinence and precision.

This instance, and some others which have occurred, seem to furnish a presumption, that the feeling or touch of blind persons may be so improved as to enable them to perceive that texture and disposition of coloured surfaces by which some rays of light are reflected, and others absorbed; and in this manner to distinguish colours.

In music, there are at present living instances of how far the blind may proceed. In former periods we shall find illustrious examples, how amply nature has capacitated the blind to excel, both in the scientific and practical departments of music.

In the sixteenth century, when the progress of improvement both in melody and harmony was rapid and conspicuous, Francis Salinas was eminently distinguished. He was born A. D. 1513, at Burgos in Spain; and was son to the treasurer of that city. Though afflicted with incurable blindness, he was profoundly skilled both in the theory and practice of music. As a performer, he is celebrated by his contemporaries with the highest encomiums. As a theorist, Sir John Hawkins says, his book is equal in value to any now extant in any language. Though he was deprived of sight in his earliest infancy, he did not content himself to delineate the various phenomena in music, but the principles from whence they result, the relations of sound, the nature of arithmetical, geometrical, and harmonical ratios, which were then esteemed essential to the theory of music, with a degree of intelligence which would have deserved admiration, though he had been in full possession of every sense requisite for these disquisitions. He was taken to Rome in the retinue of Petrus Sarmentus, archbishop of Compostella, and having passed twenty years in Italy, he returned to Salamanca, where he obtained the professorship of music, an office at that time equally respectable and lucrative. Having discharged it with reputation and success for some time, he died at the venerable age of seventy-seven.

In the same period flourished Caspar Crumbhom, blind from the third year of his age; yet he composed several pieces in many parts with so much success, and performed both upon the flute and violin so exquisitely, that he was distinguished by Augustus, elector of Saxony. But preferring his native country, Silesia, to every other, he returned to it, and was appointed organist of the church of St. Peter and Paul in Lignitz, where he had often the direction of the musical college, and died June 11, 1621.

To these might be added Martin Pesenti of Venice, a composer of vocal and instrumental music almost of all kinds, though blind from his nativity; with other examples equally worthy of public attention. But if vulgar prejudice is capable of blushing at its own contemptible character, or of yielding to conviction, those already quoted are more than sufficient to shew the musical jugglers of our time that their art is no monopoly, with which those alone who see are invested, by the irrevocable decree of heaven.

In the Annual Register for 1762, the following narrative of the surprising acquisitions of a blind lady is inserted. “A young gentlewoman of a good family in France, now in her eighteenth year, lost her sight when only two years old, her mother having been advised to lay some pigeon’s blood on her eyes, to preserve them in the small-pox; whereas, so far from answering the end, it eat into them. Nature, however, may be said to have compensated for the unhappy mistake, by beauty of person, sweetness of temper, vivacity of genius, quickness of conception, and many talents which certainly much alleviate her misfortune. She plays at cards with the same readiness as others of the party. She first prepares the pack allotted to her, by pricking them in several parts; yet so imperceptibly, that the closest inspection can scarce discern her indexes: she sorts the suits, and arranges the cards in their proper sequence, with the same precision, and nearly the same facility, as they who have their sight. All she requires of those who play with her, is to name every card as it is played; and these she retains so exactly, that she frequently performs some notable strokes, such as shew a great combination and strong memory. The most wonderful circumstance is, that she should have learned to read and write; but even this is readily believed on knowing her method. In writing to her, no ink is used, but the letters are pricked down on the paper, and by the delicacy of her touch, feeling each letter, she follows them successively, and reads every word with her finger ends. She herself in writing makes use of a pencil, as she could not know when her pen was dry; her guide on the paper is a small thin ruler, and of the breadth of the writing. On finishing a letter, she wets it, so as to fix the traces of her pencil, that they are not obscured or effaced; then proceeds to fold and seal it, and write the direction; all by her own address, and without the assistance of any other person. Her writing is very straight, well cut, and the spelling no less correct. To reach this singular mechanism, the indefatigable cares of her affectionate mother were long employed, who accustomed her daughter to feel letters cut in cards of pasteboard, brought her to distinguish an A from a B, and thus the whole alphabet, and afterwards to spell words; then, by the remembrance of the shape of the letters, to delineate them on paper; and, lastly, to arrange them so as to form words and sentences. She has learned to play on the guitar, and has even contrived a way of pricking down the tunes, as an assistance to her memory. So delicate are her organs, that in singing a tune, though new to her, she is able to name the notes. In figured dances she acquits herself extremely well, and in a minuet, with inimitable ease and gracefulness. As for the works of her sex, she has a masterly hand; she sews and hems perfectly well; and in all her works she threads her needles for herself, however small. By the watch her touch never fails telling her exactly the hour and minute.”

Diderot gives a very curious account of a blind lady. It is so remarkable, that we shall distinguish it by the separate title of Wonderful Performances of a Female, Blind almost from Infancy.

The name of this remarkable person was, Mademoiselle Melanie de Salignac, a young lady, who had been blind almost from her birth. Her feeling, hearing, and smell, were exquisite. She could distinguish, by the impression of the air, whether it was fine or cloudy, whether she was in an open place or a street, and whether the street was open at the end;—also, whether she was in a room or not, and of what size it was. Having once gone over a house, she became so well acquainted with the different parts, as to be able to warn others of any danger they were exposed to, by the existence of a step, or the lowness of a door. She could thread the smallest needle, with the greatest dexterity; and could execute every sort of needle-work. She played very well at many games at cards, which she distinguished by some little mark, known to herself by the touch, but imperceptible to the sight of any other person. She had learnt, and understood very well, music, geography, geometry, and dancing. She was, indeed, extremely clever; what made her more interesting, she was modest, mild, cheerful, and affectionate. She wrote with a pin, by pricking a sheet of paper, stretched on a frame, and read what she had written, by feeling the pin-marks on the other side of the paper. She could read a book, printed on one side only; some were printed expressly for her, in this manner. In a piece of twelve or fifteen lines, if the number of letters in each word, together with the letter which it began with, was given her, she could tell every word, however oddly composed. “This fact,” says Diderot, “was attested by every one of her family, by myself, and twenty other persons, still alive. She died at the age of twenty-two. She was the daughter of Madame de Blacy, a woman distinguished for the eminence of her moral qualities,” and moving in a respectable sphere of life.—See Grimn’s Memoirs.

We now proceed to detail the following Wonderful Instances of Adroitness of Persons born defective in their Limbs.

Several instances of such births have occurred, and the wonderful acquirements of persons thus maimed by nature have often been the subject of public astonishment, and proved a source of gain to themselves or their relations.

Giraldus Cambriensis speaks of a young woman born without arms, whom he saw at Chester, in the reign of Henry II. He mentions her working very dexterously with her needle.

Stowe gives an account of a Dutchman born without arms, who in 1581, exhibited surprising feats of activity in London; such as flourishing with a rapier, shooting an arrow near a mark, &c.

Bulwer, in his Artificial Changeling, speaks of John Simons, a native of Berkshire, born without arms or hands, who could write with his mouth; thread a needle; tie a knot; shuffle, cut, and deal a pack of cards, &c. He was shewn in public in 1653.

John Sear, a Spaniard, born without arms, was shewn in London in King William’s reign, who could comb and shave himself, fill a glass, thread a needle, embroider, write six sorts of hands, and play on several instruments of music.

Matthew Buckinger, a German, born without arms or legs, who came to England, wrote a good hand, (many specimens of which are extant,) and performed several wonderful feats. He died in 1722, aged forty-eight.

Thomas Pinnington, a native of Liverpool, born without legs or arms, performed much the same feats as Sear, in 1744, and several years ensuing; since which, a Miss Hawtin, from Coventry, born without arms, and others whose names have not been mentioned, have exhibited themselves at Bartholomew Fair and other places.

Thomas Inglefield, born without arms or legs, at Hook, in Hampshire, (anno 1769) died a few years ago in London. He was not publicly shewn, but got his bread by writing and drawing. There are two portraits of him, one of which was etched by himself.

There was, a short time since, a farmer living at Ditch-heat in Somersetshire, born without arms,—William Kingston, of whom frequent mention has been made in the public papers. He surpasses, according to accounts which seem very well attested, all that have been yet spoken of.

The following account was given a few years since, in the papers, by a person who visited him. “In order to give the public a satisfactory account of William Kingston,” says the writer, “I went to Ditcheat and the next morning got him to breakfast with me at Mrs. Goodfellow’s, and had ocular proof of his dexterity. He highly entertained us at breakfast, by putting his half-naked feet upon the table as he sat, and carrying his tea and toast between his great and second toe to his mouth, with as much facility as if his foot had been a hand, and his toes fingers. I put half a sheet of paper upon the floor, with a pen and ink-horn. He threw off his shoes as he sat, took the ink-horn in the toes of his left foot, and held the pen in those of his right. He then wrote three lines as well as most ordinary writers, and as swiftly. He writes all his own bills and other accounts. He then shewed me how he shaves himself with the razor in his toes; and he can comb his own hair. He can dress and undress himself, except buttoning his clothes. He feeds himself, and can bring both his meat or his broth to his mouth, by holding the fork or spoon in his toes. He cleans his own shoes, lights the fire, and does almost any domestic business as well as any other man. He can make hen-coops. He is a farmer by occupation. He can milk his cows with his toes, and cuts his own hay, binds it up in bundles, and carries it about the field for his cattle. Last winter he had eight heifers constantly to fodder. The last summer he made all his hay-ricks. He can do all the business of the hay-field (except mowing) as fast and as well with his feet as others can with rakes and forks. He goes to the field, and catches his horse. He saddles and bridles him with his teeth and toes. If he has a sheep among his flock that ails any thing, he can separate it from the rest, and drive it into a corner when nobody else can: he then examines it, and applies a remedy to it. He is so strong in his teeth, that he can lift ten pecks of beans with them. He can throw a great sledge-hammer as far with his feet, as other men can with their hands. In a word, he can nearly do as much without as others can with their arms.

“He began the world with a hen and chickens. With the profit on these he procured a ewe. The sale of these procured a ragged colt (as he termed it) and a sheep, and he now occupies a small farm.”

“Necessity is the mother of invention.” This proverb was never more fully exemplified than in the cases above mentioned. Habit, early acquired and long practised, may render the toes almost as useful as the fingers: the lips are also endued with acute feeling and great flexibility, and may become powerful assistants where the hands are wanting. One lesson, at least, may be taught by this maimed tribe:—that few things are so difficult, that they cannot be acquired by perseverance and application.

While some persons are noted for their extraordinary and wonderful faculties, others are remarkable for defects in natural capacities. The reader will feel interested in the following Curious Account of Incapacity of distinguishing Colours.

Of this extraordinary defect in vision, we have the following instances in the Philosophical Transactions for 1777. One of the persons lived at Maryport in Cumberland. The account was communicated by Mr. Huddart to Dr. Priestley; and is as follows:—“His name was Harris; by trade a shoemaker. I had often heard from others that he could discern the form and magnitude of all objects very distinctly, but could not distinguish colours. This report had excited my curiosity; I conversed with him frequently on the subject. The account he gave was this: That he had reason to believe other persons saw something in objects which he could not see: that their language seemed to mark qualities with precision and confidence, which he could only guess at with hesitation, and frequently with error. His first suspicion of this arose when he was about four years old. Having by accident found in the street, a child’s stocking, he carried it to a neighbouring house to inquire for the owner: he observed the people called it a red stocking, though he did not understand why they gave it that denomination, as he himself thought it completely described by being called a stocking. This circumstance, however, remained in his memory, and together with subsequent observations, led him to the knowledge of this defect. He also observed, that when young, other children could discern cherries on a tree by some pretended difference of colour, though he could only distinguish them from the leaves, by the difference of their size and shape. He observed also, that by means of this difference of colour they could see the cherries at a greater distance than he could, though he could see other objects at as great a distance as they, that is, where the sight was not assisted by the colour. Large objects he could see as well as other persons; and even the smaller ones, if they were not enveloped in other things, as in the case of cherries among the leaves. I believe he could never do more than guess the name of any colour; yet he could distinguish white from black, or black from any light or bright colour. Dove or straw colour he called white, and different colours he frequently called by the same name; yet he could discern a difference between them when placed together. In general, colours of an equal degree of brightness, however they might otherwise differ, he confounded together. Yet a striped ribbon he could distinguish from a plain one; but he could not tell what the colours were with any tolerable exactness. Dark colours, in general, he often mistook for black; but never imagined white to be a dark colour, nor dark to be a white colour. He was an intelligent man, and very desirous of understanding the nature of light and colours, for which end he had attended a course of lectures in natural philosophy. He had two brothers in the same circumstances as to sight; and two others (brothers and sisters) who, as well as their parents, had nothing of this defect. One of the first mentioned brothers, who is now living, I met with at Dublin, and wished to try his capacity to distinguish the colours in a prism; but not having one by me, I asked him, whether he had ever seen a rainbow? he replied, he had often; and could distinguish the different colours; meaning only, that it was composed of different colours, for he could not tell what they were. I then procured, and shewed him a piece of ribbon: he immediately, and without any difficulty, pronounced it a striped, and not a plain, ribbon. He then attempted to name the different stripes: the several stripes of white he uniformly, and without hesitation, called white: the four black stripes he was deceived in; for three of them he thought brown, though they were exactly of the same shade with the other, which he properly called black. He spoke, however, with diffidence, as to all those stripes; and it must be owned, that the black was not very distinct: the light green he called yellow; but he was not very positive: he said, “I think this what you call yellow.” The middle stripe, which had a slight tinge of red, he called a sort of blue. But he was most of all deceived by the orange colour: of this he spoke very confidently, saying, “This is the colour of grass, this is green.” I also shewed him a great variety of ribbons, the colour of which he sometimes named rightly, and sometimes as differently as possible from the true colour. I asked him, whether he imagined it possible for all the various colours he saw to be mere difference of light and shade; and that all colours could be composed of these two mixtures only? With some hesitation he replied, No, he did imagine there was some other difference. It is proper to add, that the experiment of the striped ribbon was made in the day-time, and in a good light.”

Incredible as the above phenomena may appear, we can add the following fact in confirmation of them, from personal knowledge. There is a gentleman now living in Edinburgh, whose optical nerves have laboured under a defect perfectly similar, since his infancy; but whose powers of vision are in other respects so much superior to those of most other people, that he draws the most striking likenesses, being a limner by profession, and requires for this purpose only once to see the person whose portrait is intended to be drawn, scarcely desiring a single sitting, much less repeated visiting. And what is still more extraordinary, he can, from such a momentary glance, retain the idea of the features, and even the gait and manner of the person, for years afterwards, so exactly as to be able to finish either a miniature head, or full portrait, at that distant period, as well as if the person were present. His friends, incredulous of this phenomenon, have, by placing his colours out of the order in which he keeps them, sometimes made him give a gentleman a green beard, and paint a beautiful young lady with a pair of blue cheeks.

We now proceed to the consideration of a very remarkable acquirement of man, called Ventriloquism.

This is an art of speaking, by means of which the human voice and other sounds are rendered audible, as if they proceeded from several different places; though the utterer does not change his place, and in many instances does not appear to speak. It has been supposed to be a natural peculiarity; because few, if any persons, have learned it by being taught, and we have had no rules laid down for acquiring it. It seems to have been in consequence of this notion, that the name ‘Ventriloquism’ has been applied to it, from a supposition that the voice proceeds from the thorax or chest. It has seldom been practised but by persons of the lower classes of society; and as it does not seem to present any advantages beyond that of causing surprise and entertainment, and cannot be exhibited on an extended theatre, the probability is, that it will continue amongst them.

Mr. Gough, in his Manchester Memoirs, and in various parts of Nicholson’s Journal, has entertained the opinion that the voice of ventriloquists is made to proceed, in appearance, from different parts of a room, by the management of an echo. But the facts themselves do not support this hypothesis, as a great and sudden variety and change of echoes would be required; and his own judicious remarks, in the same work, on the facility with which we are deceived as to the direction of sound, are adverse to his theory. From numerous attentive observations, it appears manifest that the art is not peculiar to certain individuals, but may with facility be acquired by any person of accurate observation. It consists merely in an imitation of sounds, as they occur in nature, accompanied with appropriate action, of such a description as may best concur in leading the minds of the observers to favour the deception.

Any one who shall try, will be a little surprised to find how easy it is to imitate the noise made by a saw, or by a snuff-box when opened and shut, or by a large hand-bell, or cork-cutter’s knife, a watch while going, and numberless other inanimate objects; or the voices of animals, in their various situations and necessities, such as a cat, a dog, or a hen enraged, intimidated, confined, &c.; or to vary the character of the human voice by shrillness or depth of tone, rapidity or drawling of execution, and distinctness or imperfection of articulation, which may be instantly changed by holding the mouth a little more opened or more closed than usual, altering the position of the jaw, keeping the tongue in any determinate situation, &c. And every one of the imitations of the ventriloquist will be rendered more perfect by practising them at the very time the sounds are heard, instead of depending on the memory. The leading condition of performance is, that the voices and sounds of the dramatic dialogue to be exhibited, should succeed each other so rapidly that the audience should lose sight of the probability that one actor gives effect to the whole, and that where the business is simple, the aid of scenery or local circumstance should be called in.

We have seen an eminent philosopher of our own time, who had no previous practice of this art, but when speaking on the subject in a mixed company, took up a hat, and folding the flaps together, said, by way of example, “Suppose I had a small monkey in this hat;” and then cautiously putting his hand in, as if to catch it, he imitated the chatter of the supposed struggling animal, at the same time that his own efforts to secure it had a momentary impression on the spectators, which left no time to question whether there was a monkey in it or not: this impression was completed when, the instant afterwards, he pulled out his hand as if hurt, and exclaimed, “He has bit me!” It was not till then that the impression of the reality gave way to the diversion arising from the mimic art; and one of the company, even then, cried out, “Is there really a monkey in the hat?”

In this manner it was that, at the beginning of the last century, the famous Tom King, who is said to have been the first man who delivered public lectures on experimental philosophy in the country, was attended by the whole fashionable world, for a succession of many nights, to hear him “kill a calf.” This performance was done in a separated part of the place of exhibition, into which the exhibiter retired alone; and the imagination of his polite hearers was taxed to supply the calf and three butchers, besides a dog who sometimes raised his voice, and was checked for his unnecessary exertions. It appears, from traditional narrative, that the calf was heard to be dragged in, not without some efforts and conversation on the part of the butchers, and noisy resistance from the calf; that they conversed on the qualities of the animal, and the profits to be expected from the veal; and that, as they proceeded, all the noises of knife and steel, of suspending the creature, and of the last fatal catastrophe, were heard in rapid succession, to the never-failing satisfaction of the attendants; who, upon the rise of the curtain, saw that all these imaginary personages had vanished, and Tom King alone remained to claim the applause.

A similar fact may be quoted in the person of that facetious gentleman, who has assumed and given celebrity to the name of Peter Pindar. This great poet, laughing at the proverbial poverty of his profession, is sometimes pleased to entertain his friends with singular effusions of the art we speak of. One of these is managed by a messenger announcing to the Doctor (in the midst of company) that a person wants to speak with him: he accordingly goes out, leaving the door a-jar, and immediately a female voice is heard, which, from the nature of the subject, appears to be that of the Poet’s laundress, who complains of her pressing wants, disappointed claims, and of broken promises no longer to be borne with patience. It is more easy to imagine than describe the mixed emotions of the audience. The scene, however, goes on by the Doctor’s reply; who remonstrates, promises, and is rather angry at the time and place of this unwelcome visit. His antagonist unfortunately is neither mollified nor disposed to quit her ground. Passion increases on both sides, and the Doctor forgets himself so far as to threaten the irritated female; she defies him, and this last promise, very unlike the former ones, is followed by payment; a severe smack on the face is heard; the poor woman falls down stairs, with horrid outcries; the company, of course, rises in alarm, and the Doctor is found in a state of perfect tranquillity, apparently a stranger to the whole transaction.

A very able ventriloquist, Fitz-James, performed in public, in Soho-square, about four years ago. He personated various characters by appropriate dresses; and by a command of the muscles of his face he could very much alter his appearance. He imitated many inanimate noises, and among others, a repetition of noises of the water machine at Marli. He conversed with some statues, which replied to him; and also with some persons supposed to be in the room above, and on the landing-place; gave the watchman’s cry, gradually approaching, and when he seemed opposite the window, Fitz-James opened it and asked what the time was, received the answer, and during his proceeding with his cry, Fitz-James shut the window, immediately upon which the sound became weaker, and at last insensible. In the whole of his performance, it was clear that the notions of the audience were governed by the auxiliary circumstances, as to direction, &c. This mimic had, at least, six different habitual modes of speaking, which he could instantly adapt one after the other, and with so much rapidity, that when in a small closet, parted off in the room, he gave a long, confused, and impassioned debate of democrats (in French, as almost the whole of his performance was;) it seemed to proceed from a multitude of speakers: and an inaccurate observer might have thought that several were speaking at once. A ludicrous scene of drawing a tooth was performed in the same manner.

These examples, and many more which might be added, are sufficient, in proof that ventriloquism is the art of mimicry, an imitation applied to sounds of every description, and attended with circumstances which produce an entertaining deception, and lead the hearers to imagine that the voice proceeds from different situations. When distant low voices are to be imitated, the articulation may be given with sufficient distinctness, without moving the lips, or altering the countenance. It was by a supposed supernatural voice of this kind, from a ventriloquist, that the famous musical small-coal man, Thomas Britton, received a warning of his death, which so greatly affected him, that he did not survive the affright.

The following quotation from Richerand’s Physiology will be sufficient to give the reader a further idea of the mechanism of this singular art. “At first,” says Richerand, “I had conjectured that a great portion of the air driven out by expiration did not pass out by the mouth and nostrils, but was swallowed and carried into the stomach, reflected in some part of the digestive canal, and gave rise to a real echo; but after having attentively observed this curious phenomenon, in Mr. Fitz-James, who represents it in its greatest perfection, I was enabled to convince myself that the name ventriloquism is by no means applicable, since the whole of its mechanism consists in a slow gradual expiration, drawn in such a way that the artist either makes use of the influence exerted by volition over the muscles or parietis of the thorax, or that he keeps the epiglottis down by the base of the tongue, the apex of which is not carried beyond the dental arches.

“He always makes a strong inspiration just before this long expiration, and thus conveys a considerable mass of air into the lungs, the exit of which he afterwards manages with such address. Therefore, repletion of the stomach greatly incommodes the talent of Mr. Fitz-James, by preventing the diaphragm from descending sufficiently to admit of a dilatation of the thorax, in proportion to the quantity of air that the lungs should receive. By accelerating or retarding the exit of the air, he can imitate different voices, and induce his auditors to a belief that the interlocutors of a dialogue, which is kept up by himself alone, are placed at different distances; and this illusion is the more complete in proportion to the perfection of his peculiar talent. No man possesses, to such a degree as Mr. Fitz-James, the art of deceiving persons who are least liable to delusion, he can carry his execution to five or six different tones, pass rapidly from one to another, as he does when representing an animated dispute in the midst of a popular assembly.”

Some persons are of opinion that the witch of Endor was a ventriloquist, and that she practised this art before King Saul, and deceived him in the resurrection of Samuel; the present writer, however, does not vouch for this opinion.

Another very extraordinary acquirement, and which the present writer has been witness to, is, Sword-swallowing.

This surprising act is performed by the Indian Jugglers; the following account of which, is extracted from Forbes’s Oriental Memoirs.

“I have elsewhere mentioned some feats of the Indian Jugglers: at Zinore I saw one which surpassed every thing of the kind I had before witnessed, I mean the swallowing a sword up to the hilt. Had I not afterwards met with the same set on the island of Salsette, exhibiting before the English chief at Tannah, I should have doubted the evidence of my senses. I witnessed the fact more than once, and am convinced there was no deception. Finding my tale generally disbelieved in Europe, I suppressed it; but having since read a clear and satisfactory account of this extraordinary transaction, drawn up by Mr. Johnson, surgeon in the navy, who, in the year 1804, was an eye-witness of this performance, and having described it as a professional man, I shall transcribe the account from his memoir:—

“‘Having been visited by one of these conjurers, I resolved to see clearly his mode of performing this operation; and for that purpose ordered him to seat himself on the floor of the veranda. The sword he intended to use has some resemblance to a common spit in shape, except at the handle, which is merely a part of the blade itself, rounded and elongated into a little rod. It is from twenty-two to twenty-six inches in length, about an inch in breadth, and about one-fifth of an inch in thickness; the edges and point are blunt, being rounded, and of the same thickness as the rest of the blade; it is of iron or steel, smooth, and a little bright. Having satisfied himself with respect to the sword, by attempting to bend it; and by striking it against a stone, I firmly grasped it by the handle, and ordered him to proceed. He first took a small phial of oil, and with one of his fingers rubbed a little of it over the surface of the instrument; then, stretching up his neck as much as possible, and bending himself a little backwards, he introduced the point of it into his mouth, and pushed it gently down his throat, until my hand, which was on the handle, came in contact with his lips. He then made a sign to me with one of his hands, to feel the point of the instrument between his breast and navel: which I could do, by bending him a little more backwards, and pressing my fingers on his stomach, he being a very thin and lean fellow. On letting go the handle of the sword, he instantly fixed on it a little machine that spun round, and disengaged a small fire-work, which encircling his head with a blue flame, gave him, as he then sat, a truly diabolical appearance. On withdrawing the instrument, several parts of its surface were covered with blood, which shewed that he was still obliged to use a degree of violence in the introduction.

“‘I was at first a good deal surprised at this transaction altogether; but when I came to reflect a little upon it, there appeared nothing at all improbable, much less impossible, in the business. He told me, on giving him a trifle, that he had been accustomed, from his early years, to introduce at first small elastic instruments down his throat, and into his stomach; that by degrees he had used larger ones, until at length he was able to use the present iron sword.’” Oriental Memoirs, vol. ii. pp. 515-517.

Two of these jugglers have lately visited England, and performed the above exploit, with many others, almost equally surprising, to the satisfaction of crowded audiences.

We may learn from various instances in this chapter the value of perseverance; this will overcome difficulties, which at first appear insuperable; and it is amazing to consider, how great and numerous obstacles may be removed by a continual attention to any particular point. By such attention and perseverance, what may not man effect! Any man, unless he be an absolute idiot, may by these means raise himself to excellence in some branch or other; and what is best of all, by divine assistance, and by unwearied and keen application, he may resist temptation, conquer the evil principle, rise superior to all the difficulties and trials of life, excel in wisdom and goodness, and thus be fitted for a better country, when death summons him away from the present world.

—————————————Man must soar.
An obstinate activity within,
An insuppressive spring, will toss him up,
In spite of fortune’s load. Not kings alone,
Each villager has his ambition too;
No sultan prouder than his fetter’d slave.
Slaves build their little Babylons of straw,
Echo the proud Assyrian, in their hearts,
And cry—“Behold the wonders of my might!”
And why? Because immortal as their lord;
And souls immortal must for ever heave
At something great; the glitter, or the gold;
The praise of mortals, or the praise of heav’n.
Young.

CHAP. IV.

CURIOSITIES RESPECTING MAN.—(Continued.)

Instances of Extraordinary Gluttony—Instances of Extraordinary Fasting—Wonders of Abstinence—Sleep Walking—Sleeping Woman of Dunninald—Instances of Extraordinary Dreams—Poetical, Grammatical, and Scientific Deaths—Anthropophagi, or Men-Eaters—Account of a Wild Man.

Instances of Extraordinary Gluttony.

Habitual gluttons may be reckoned among the monsters of nature, and even punishable for endeavouring to bring a famine into the places where they live. King James I. when a man was presented to him who could eat a whole sheep at one meal, asked, “What work could he do more than another man?” and being answered, “He could not do so much,” said, “Hang him, then; for it is unfit a man should live, that eats as much as twenty men, and cannot do so much as one.”

The emperor Clodius Albinus devoured more than a bushel of apples at once. He ate 500 figs to his breakfast, 100 peaches, 10 melons, 20lbs. of grapes, 100 gnat-snappers, and 400 oysters.

Hardi Canute, the last of the Danish kings in England, was so great a glutton, that an historian calls him Bocca di Porco, “Swine’s-mouth.” His tables were covered four times a day with the most costly viands that either the air, sea, or land, could furnish; and as he lived he died; for, revelling at a banquet at Lambeth, he fell down dead.

One Phagon, in the reign of Aurelianus, at one meal, ate a whole boar, 100 loaves of bread, a sheep, and a pig, and drank above three gallons of wine.

One Mallet, a counsellor at law, in the reign of Charles I. ate at one time a dinner provided in Westminster for 30 men. His practice not being sufficient to supply him with better meat, he fed generally on offals, ox livers, hearts, &c. He lived to near 60 years of age, but during the seven last years of his life ate as moderately as other men.

Among the many accounts of extraordinary eaters, there are, perhaps, none that have exceeded those of Nicholas Wood, of Harrison, in Kent, related in Fuller’s Worthies, p. 86, whose enormous appetite appears to exceed all probability.

He ate at one meal a whole sheep, of sixteen shillings price, raw; at another time, thirty dozen of pigeons. At Sir William Sidley’s, in the same county, he ate as much victuals as would have sufficed thirty men. At Lord Wotton’s mansion-house, in Kent, he devoured, at one dinner, 84 rabbits, which, at the rate of half a rabbit a man, would have served 168 men. He ate to his breakfast 18 yards of black-pudding. He devoured at one meal a whole hog; and after it, being accommodated with fruit, he ate three pecks of damsons.

Gluttony is a most degrading vice. Be sober; be temperate; be virtuous; for

Health consists with temperance alone.
And peace, O Virtue! peace is all thy own.
Pope.

We shall, with the readers permission, now introduce some Extraordinary Instances of Fasting.

A full account of a very uncommon case is given in the Phil. Trans, vol. lxvii. part I. Janet M‘Leod, an inhabitant in the parish of Kincardine, in Ross-shire, continued healthy till she was fifteen years of age, when she had a pretty severe epileptic fit; after this she had an interval of health for four years, and then another epileptic fit, which continued a whole day and a night. A few days afterwards she was seized with a fever, which continued with violence several weeks, and from which she did not perfectly recover for some months. At this time she lost the use of her eyelids; so that she was under the necessity of keeping them open with the fingers of one hand, whenever she wanted to look about her. In other respects she continued in pretty good health; only she periodically spit up blood in pretty large quantities, and at the same time it flowed from the nose. This discharge continued several years; but at last it ceased; and soon after she had a third epileptic fit, and after that a fever, from which she recovered slowly. Six weeks after the crisis, she stole out of the house unknown to her parents, who were busied in their harvest work, and bound the sheaves of a ridge before she was observed. In the evening she took to her bed, complaining much of her heart (probably meaning her stomach) and her head. From that time she never rose for five years, but was occasionally lifted out of bed. She seldom spoke a word, and took so little food, that it seemed scarcely sufficient to support a sucking infant. Even this small quantity was taken by compulsion; and at last, about Whitsunday, 1763, she totally refused every kind of food or drink. Her jaws now became so fast locked, that it was with the greatest difficulty her father was able to open her teeth a little, in order to admit a small quantity of gruel or whey; but of this so much generally run out at the corners of her mouth, that they could not be sensible any had been swallowed. About this time they got some water from a noted medical spring in Brae-Mar, some of which they attempted to make her swallow, but without effect. They continued their trials, however, for three mornings; rubbing her throat with the water which ran out at the corners of her mouth. On the third morning, during the operation, she cried out, “Give me more water;” and swallowed with ease all that remained in the bottle. She spoke no more intelligibly for a year, though she continued to mutter some words, for 14 days, which her parents only understood. She continued to reject all kinds of food and drink till July, 1765. At this time her sister thought, by some signs she made, that she wanted her jaws opened; and this being done, not without violence, she called intelligibly for some liquid, and drank with ease about an English pint of water. Her father then asked why she would not make some signs when she wanted to drink? To which she answered,—why should she, when she had no desire? It was now supposed that she had regained the faculty of speech; and her jaws were kept open for about three weeks, by means of a wedge. But in four or five days she became totally silent, and the wedge was removed, because it made her lips sore. She still, however, continued sensible; and when her eyelids were opened, knew every body. This could be guessed from the signs she made. By continuing their attempts to force open her jaws, two of the under fore teeth were driven out; and of this opening her parents endeavoured to avail themselves, by putting some thin nourishing drink into her mouth, but without effect, as it always returned by the corners. Sometimes they thought of thrusting a little dough of oatmeal through this gap of the teeth, which she would retain a few seconds, and then return with something like a straining to vomit, without one particle going down. Nor were the family sensible of any thing like swallowing for four years, excepting the small draught of Brae-Mar water, and an English pint of common water. For the last three years she had no natural discharge, except that once or twice a week she passed a few drops of water.

In this situation she was visited by Dr. Mackenzie, who communicated the account to the Royal Society. He found her not at all emaciated; her knees were bent, and the hamstrings tight, so that her heels were drawn up behind her body. She slept much, and was very quiet; but when awake, kept a constant whimpering like a new-born weakly infant. She never could remain a moment on her back, but always fell to one side or another; and her chin was drawn close to her breast, nor could it by any force be moved backwards. The Doctor paid his first visit in October, 1767; and five years afterwards, viz, in October, 1772, was induced to pay her a second visit, by hearing that she was recovering, and had begun to eat and drink. The account given him was most extraordinary.

Her parents one day returning from their country labours, (having left their daughter fixed to her bed as usual,) were greatly surprised to find her sitting upon her hams, in a part of the house opposite to her bed-place, spinning with her mother’s distaff. All the food she took at that time was only to crumble a little oat or barley cake in the palm of her hand, as if to feed a chicken. She put little crumbs of this into the gap of her teeth; rolled them about for some time in her mouth; and then sucked out of the palm of her hand a little water, whey, or milk; and this only once or twice a day, and even that by compulsion. She never attempted to speak; her jaws were fast locked, and her eyes shut. On opening her eyelids, the balls were found to be turned up under the edge of the os frontis; her countenance was ghastly, her complexion pale, and her whole person emaciated. She seemed sensible and tractable, except in taking food. This she did with the utmost reluctance, and even cried before she yielded. The great change of her looks, Dr. Mackenzie attributed to her spinning flax on the distaff, which exhausted too much of the saliva; and therefore he recommended to her parents to confine her totally to the spinning of wool. In 1775, she was visited again, and found to be greatly improved in her looks as well as strength; her food was also considerably increased in quantity; though even then she did not take more than would be sufficient to sustain an infant of two years of age.

In the Gentleman’s Magazine, for 1789, p. 1211, is recorded the death of one Caleb Elliot, a visionary enthusiast, who meant to have fasted 40 days, and actually survived 16 without food, having obstinately refused sustenance of every kind.

At the same time that we should guard against superstitious fasting, we should be cautious not to transgress the bounds of temperance. Occasional abstinence is useful and praiseworthy, and we shall now give some instances of The Wonders of Abstinence.

Many wonders are related of the effects of abstinence, in the cure of several disorders, and in protracting the term of life. The noble Venetian, Cornaro, after all imaginable means had proved vain, so that his life was despaired of at 40, recovered, and lived to near 100, by mere dint of abstinence; as he himself gives account. It is indeed surprising to what a great age the primitive Christians of the East, who retired from the persecutions into the deserts of Arabia and Egypt, lived, healthful and cheerful, on a very little food. Cassian assures us, that the common rate for 24 hours was 12 ounces of bread, and mere water; with this, St. Anthony lived 105 years; James the hermit, 104; Arsenius, tutor of the Emperor Arcadius, 123; S. Epiphanius, 115; Simeon, the Stylite, 112; and Romauld, 130. Indeed, we can match these instances of longevity at home. Buchanan writes, that one Lawrence preserved himself to 140, by force of temperance and labour; and Spottiswood mentions one Kentigern, afterwards called St. Mongah, or Mungo, who lived to 185, by the same means. Abstinence, however, is to be recommended only as it means a proper regimen; for in general it must have bad consequences, when observed without a due regard to constitution, age, strength, &c.

According to Dr. Cheyne, most of the chronical diseases, the infirmities of old age, and the short lives of Englishmen, are owing to repletion; and may be either cured, prevented, or remedied, by abstinence: but then the kinds of abstinence which ought to obtain, either in sickness or health, are to be deduced from the laws of diet and regimen. Among the brute creation, we see extraordinary instances of long abstinence. The serpent kind, in particular, bear abstinence to a wonderful degree. Rattlesnakes are reported to have subsisted many months without any food, yet still retained their vigour and fierceness. Dr. Shaw speaks of a couple of cerastes, (a sort of Egyptian serpents,) which had been kept five years in a bottle close corked, without any sort of food, unless a small quantity of sand, wherein they coiled themselves up in the bottom of the vessel, may be reckoned as such: yet when he saw them, they had newly cast their skins, and were as brisk and lively as if just taken.

But it is even natural for divers species of creatures to pass four, five, or six months’ every year, without either eating or drinking. Accordingly, the tortoise, bear, dormouse, serpent, &c. are observed regularly to retire, at those seasons, to their respective cells, and hide themselves,—some in the caverns of rocks or ruins; others dig holes under ground; others get into woods, and lay themselves up in clefts of trees; others bury themselves under water, &c. And yet these animals are found as fat and fleshy after some months’ abstinence as before.—A gentleman (Phil. Trans. No. 194.) weighed his tortoise several years successively, at its going to earth in October, and coming out again in March; and found that, of four pounds four ounces, it only used to lose about one ounce.—Indeed, we have instances of men passing several months as strictly abstinent as other creatures. In particular, the records of the Tower mention a Scotchman imprisoned for felony, and strictly watched in that fortress for six weeks; in all which time he took not the least sustenance; for which he had his pardon. Numberless instances of extraordinary abstinence, particularly from morbid causes, are to be found in the different periodical Memoirs, Transactions, Ephemerides, &c. It is to be added, that, in most instances of extraordinary human abstinence related by naturalists, there were said to have been apparent marks of a texture of blood and humour, much like that of the animals above mentioned; though it is not an improbable opinion, that the air itself may furnish something for nutrition. It is certain, there are substances of all kinds, animal, vegetable, &c. floating in the atmosphere, which must be continually taken in by respiration. And that an animal body may be nourished thereby, is evident from the instance of vipers, which, if taken when first brought forth, and kept from every thing but air, will yet grow very considerably in a few days. The eggs of lizards, also, are observed to increase in bulk after they are produced, though there be nothing to furnish the increment but air alone, in like manner as the eggs or spawn of fish grow and are nourished by the water. And hence, say some, it is, that cooks, turnspit dogs, &c. though they eat but little, yet are usually fat.

We shall next offer the reader a few remarks on Sleep-Walking.

Many instances are related of persons who were addicted to this practice. A very remarkable one has been published from a report made to the Physical Society of Lausanne, by a committee of gentlemen appointed to examine a young man who was accustomed to walk in his sleep.

The disposition to sleep-walking seems, in the opinion of this committee, to depend on a particular affection of the nerves, which both seizes and quits the patient during sleep. Under the influence of this affection, the imagination represents to him the objects that struck him while awake, with as much force as if they really affected his senses; but it does not make him perceive any of those that are actually presented to his senses, except in so far as they are connected with the dreams which engross him at the time. If, during this state, the imagination has no determined purpose, he receives the impression of objects as if he were awake; only, however, when the imagination is excited to bend its attention towards them. The perceptions obtained in this state are very accurate, and, when once received, the imagination renews them occasionally with as much force as if they were again acquired by means of the senses. Lastly, these academicians suppose, that the impressions received during this state of the senses, disappear entirely when the person awakes, and do not return till the recurrence of the same disposition in the nervous system.

Our next article is, A Curious Account of the Sleeping Woman of Dunninald, near Montrose.

The following narrative was communicated to the Royal Society of Edinburgh, by Dr. Brewster.

Margaret Lyall, aged 21, daughter of John Lyall, labourer at Dunninald, was first seized with a sleeping fit on the 27th of June, 1815, which continued to the 30th of June; next morning she was again found in a deep sleep: in this state she remained for seven days, without motion, food, or the use of any animal function. But at the end of this time, by the moving of her left hand, and by plucking at the coverlet of the bed and pointing to her mouth, a wish for food being understood, it was given her. This she took; but still remained in her lethargic state till Tuesday the 8th of August, being six weeks from the time she was seized with the lethargy, without appearing to be awake, except on the afternoon of Friday the 30th of June. During the first two weeks, her pulse was generally about 50, the third week about 60, and previous to her recovery, at 70 to 72. Though extremely feeble for some days after her recovery, she gained strength so rapidly, that before the end of August, she began to work at the harvest, on the lands of Mr. Arkley, and continued without inconvenience to perform her labour.

The account is drawn up by the clergyman of the parish, and is accompanied with the medical report of the surgeons who attended; to whose attestations are added those of Mr. Arkley, the proprietor of Dunninald, and Lyall, the father; and the statement is, in every respect, entitled to the fullest credit.

We shall proceed to some Instances of Extraordinary Dreams.

The following account is by no means intended either to restore the reign of superstition, or to induce the reader to put faith in the numberless ridiculous interpretations, given by some pretenders to divination, of the ordinary run of dreams. The absurdity of the many traditional rules, laid down by such persons; such as, that dreaming of eggs prognosticates anger; of the washing of linens, forebodes flitting; of green fields, sickness; of hanging, honour; of death, marriage; of fish, children; and of raw flesh, death, &c. &c. can only be exceeded by the folly of those who put faith in such fooleries. But instances have occurred of particular persons, whose veracity cannot be doubted, having dreams of so singular a nature, and so literally and exactly fulfilled, that it may be well to mention one or two of them, for the entertainment, at least, of the reader, if they should not contribute to his improvement.—

Mr. Richard Boyle, manufacturer, residing in Stirling, about 1781, dreamed that he saw a beautiful young woman, with a winding sheet over her arm, whose image made a deep impression on his mind. Upon telling his mother the dream, she said, you will probably marry that woman, and if you do, she will bury you. Going to Glasgow in 1783, he met with a young woman in a friend’s house, exactly resembling the person he had dreamed of; and notwithstanding the disheartening interpretation he had got, and the additional discouraging circumstance told him, that she was already engaged with another young man, was sure she was to be his wife, and did not give up his pursuit till he made her his own. The melancholy part of his dream was soon fulfilled. He lived only 15 months with her; a short, but happy period. His widow, during his life, dreamed with equal exactness of her second husband, whom she did not see till three years afterwards, when the sight of him, at church, in Montrose, disturbed her devotion so much, upon recollecting her dream, that she hardly knew a word the minister said afterwards. Within less than two months, they were introduced to each other; and within four, were married.—Another young lady had dreamed so often, and so particularly, about the gentleman who afterwards married her, that at their first meeting, she started back, as if she had seen a ghost.—The editors of the Encyclopedia Perthensis declare they knew the parties concerned in the foregoing relations. But these instances of prophetic dreams, they observe, are trifling, compared to one narrated in the Weekly Mirror, printed at Edinburgh, in 1781, and signed Verax; and which, they say, they quote the more readily, as also, from personal acquaintance with the parties, they know the narrative to be true:

“In June, 1752, Mr. Robert Aikenhead, farmer, in Denstrath, of Arnhall, in the Mearns, about 5 miles north of Brechin, and 7 from Montrose, went to a market called Tarrenty-fair, where he had a large sum of money to receive. His eldest son, Robert, a boy about 8 years of age, was sent to take care of the cattle, and, happening to lie down upon a grassy bank before sun-set, fell fast asleep. Although the boy had never been far from home, he was immediately carried in his imagination to Tarrenty market, where, he dreamed, that his father, after receiving the money, set out on his return home, and was followed all the way by two ill-looking fellows, who, when he had got to the western dykes of Inglis-Mauldy, (the seat of the then Lord Halkerton, afterwards Earl of Kintore,) and little more than a mile from home, attacked and attempted to rob him. Whereupon the boy thought he ran to his assistance, and, when he came within a gun-shot of the place, called out some people, who were just going to bed, who put the robbers to flight. He immediately awoke in a fright, and, without waiting to consider whether it was a vision or a reality, ran as fast as he could to the place he had dreamed of, and had no sooner reached it, than he saw his father in the very spot and situation he had seen in his dream, defending himself with his stick against the assassins. He therefore immediately realized his own part of the visionary scene, by roaring out, Murder! which soon brought out the people, who running up to Mr. Aikenhead’s assistance, found him victor over one of the villains, whom he had previously knocked down with a stone, after they had pulled him off his horse; but almost overpowered by the other, who repeatedly attempted to stab him with a sword; against which he had no other defence than his stick and his hands, which were considerably mangled by grasping the blade. Upon sight of the country people, the villain who had the sword ran off; but the other not being able, was apprehended and lodged in gaol. Meantime there was no small hue and cry after young Robert, whose mother missing him, and finding the cattle among the corn, was in the utmost anxiety, concluding that he had fallen into some water or peat moss. But her joy and surprise were equally great, when her husband returned with the boy, and told her how miraculously both his money and life had been preserved by his son’s dream; although she was at first startled at seeing her husband’s hands bloody.

“To those who deny the existence of a God, (adds the writer,) or the superintendence of a divine providence, the above narrative will appear as fabulous as any story in Ovid. To those who measure the greatness and littleness of events by the arbitrary rules of human pride and vanity, it will perhaps appear incredible that such a miracle should have been wrought for the preservation of the life of a country farmer. But all who found their opinions upon the unerring rule of right and truth, which assures us that a sparrow cannot fall to the ground without the permission of our heavenly Father, (and who know, that in the sight of Him, with whom there is no respect of persons or dignities, the life of the greatest monarch on earth, and that of the lowest of his subjects, are of equal value,) will laugh at such silly objections, when opposed to well-attested facts. That the above is one, could be attested upon oath, were it necessary, by Mr. and Mrs. Aikenhead, from whom I had all the particulars above narrated about 15 months ago.—Edinburgh, March 12, 1781.”—Indeed, whoever can persuade himself that such facts as are stated above, can happen by chance, may easily adopt the system of those philosophers, who tell us that the universe was formed by the fortuitous concourse of atoms.

The title of our next subject is curious,—Poetical, Grammatical, and Scientific Deaths.

The Emperor Adrian, dying, made that celebrated address to his soul, which is so happily translated by Pope, in the following words:

Vital spark of heav’nly flame,
Quit, oh quit this mortal frame.
Trembling, hoping, ling’ring, flying,
Oh the pain, the bliss of dying!
Cease, fond Nature, cease thy strife,
And let me languish into life.
Hark! they whisper; angels say,
Sister spirit, come away.
What is this absorbs me quite?
Steals my senses, shuts my sight?
Drowns my spirits, draws my breath?
Tell me, my soul, can this be death!
The world recedes; it disappears!
Heav’n opens on my eyes! my ears
With sounds seraphic ring:
Lend, lend your wings! I mount! I fly!
O Grave! where is thy victory?
O Death! where is thy sting?

Lucan, when he had his veins opened by order of Nero, expired reciting a passage from his Pharsalia, in which he has described the wound of a dying soldier. Petronius did the same thing on the same occasion.

Patris, a poet of Caen, perceiving himself expiring, composed some verses which are justly admired. In this little poem he relates a dream, in which he appeared to be placed next to a beggar, when, having addressed him in the haughty strain he would probably have employed on this side of the grave, he received the following reprimand:

“Here all are equal; now thy lot is mine!
I on my dunghill, as thou art on thine.”

Des Barreaux, it is said, wrote, on his death-bed, that sonnet which is well known, and which is translated in the “Spectator.”

Margaret of Austria, when she was nearly perishing in a storm at sea, composed for herself the following epitaph in verse:

“Beneath this tomb is high-born Margaret laid,
Who had two husbands, and yet died a maid.”

She was betrothed to Charles VIII. of France, who forsook her. Being next intended for the Spanish Infant, in her voyage to Spain she wrote these lines in a storm.

Roscommon, at the moment he expired, with an energy of voice (says his biographer) that expressed the most fervent devotion, uttered two lines of his own version of “Dies Iræ!”

Waller, in his last moments, repeated some lines from Virgil: and Chaucer took his farewell of all human vanities by a moral ode, entitled, “A ballad made by Geffrey Chauycer upon his dethe-bedde lying in his grete anguysse.”

“The muse that has attended my course (says the dying Gleim, in a letter to Klopstock[4]) still hovers round my steps to the very verge of the grave.” A collection of songs, composed by old Gleim on his death-bed, it is said, were intended to be published.

Chatellard, a French gentleman, beheaded in Scotland, for having loved the Queen, and even for having attempted her honour, Brantome says, would not have any other viaticum than a poem of Ronsard. When he ascended the scaffold, he took the hymns of this poet, and for his consolation read that on death; which, he says, is well adapted to conquer its fear. He preferred the poems of Ronsard to either a prayer-book or his confessor: such was his passion.

The Marquis of Montrose, when he was condemned by his judges to have his limbs nailed to the gates of four cities, the brave soldier said that, “he was sorry he had not limbs sufficient to be nailed to all the gates of the cities in Europe, as monuments of his loyalty.” As he proceeded to his execution, he put this thought into beautiful verse.

Philip Strozzi, when imprisoned by Cosmo the First, great Duke of Tuscany, was apprehensive of the danger to which he might expose his friends, (who had joined in his conspiracy against the duke,) from the confessions which the rack might extort from him. Having attempted every exertion for the liberty of his country, he considered it no crime therefore to die. He resolved on suicide. With the point of the sword, with which he killed himself, he first engraved on the mantle-piece of the chimney, this verse of Virgil:

Exoriare aliquis nostris ex ossibus ultor.
Rise, some avenger, from our blood!

Such persons realize that beautiful fiction of the ancients, who represent the swans of Cayster singing at their death; and have been compared to the nightingale singing with a thorn on its breast.

The following anecdotes are of a different complexion: they may perhaps excite a smile. We have given them the title of Grammatical Deaths.

Pere Bouhours was a French grammarian, who had been justly accused of paying too scrupulous an attention to the minutiæ of letters. He was more solicitous of his words than his thoughts. It is said, that when he was dying, he called out to his friends (a correct grammarian to the last,) “Je Vas, ou je Vais mourir; l’un ou l’autre se dit!”

When Malherbe was dying, he reprimanded his nurse for making use of a solecism in her language! And when his confessor represented to him the felicities of a future state in low expressions, the dying critic interrupted him: “Hold your tongue,” he said, “your wretched style only makes me out of conceit with them!”

Several persons of science have died in a scientific manner.—Haller, the greatest of physicians, beheld his end approach with the utmost composure. He kept feeling his pulse to the last moment, and when he found that life was almost gone, he turned to his brother physician, and observed, “My friend, the artery ceases to beat,”—and almost instantly expired.

De Lagny, who was intended by his friends for the study of the law, having fallen on an Euclid, found it so congenial to his disposition, that he devoted himself to mathematics. In his last moments, when he retained no further recollection of the friends who surrounded his bed, one of them, perhaps to make a philosophical experiment, thought proper to ask him the square of 12; the dying mathematician instantly, and perhaps without knowing that he answered it, replied, “144.”

The following lines, from the pen of Mrs. Barbauld, in an address to the Deity, express the desires and hopes of a real Christian in the contemplation of death:

“O when the last, the closing hour draws nigh,
And earth recedes before my swimming eye;
When trembling on the doubtful edge of fate,
I stand, and stretch my view to either state;
Teach me to quit this transitory scene
With decent triumph and a look serene;
Teach me to fix my ardent hopes on high,
And, having liv’d to thee, in thee to die!”

The following article is not of a pleasing description, but nevertheless proper to be inserted in “The Book of Curiosities.” It is Anthropophagi, or Men-eaters:

The Cyclops, the Lestrygons, and Scylla, are all represented in Homer as Anthropophagi, or man-eaters, and the female phantoms, Circe and the Syrens, first bewitched with a show of pleasure, and then destroyed. This, like the other parts of Homer’s poetry, had a foundation in the manners of the times preceding his own. It was still in many places the age spoken of by Orpheus,

“When men devour’d each other like the beasts,
Gorging on human flesh.”

History gives us divers instances of persons driven by excess of hunger to eat their own relations. And also out of revenge and hatred, where soldiers, in the heat of battle, have been known to be carried to such an excess of rage, as to tear their enemies with their teeth.

The violence of love has sometimes produced the same effect as the excess of hatred.

Among the Essedonian Scythians, when a man’s father died, his neighbours brought him several beasts, which they killed, mixed up their flesh with that of the deceased, and made a feast.

Among the Massageti, when any person grew old, they killed him, and ate his flesh; but if the party died of sickness, they buried him, esteeming him unhappy.

Idolatry and superstition have caused the eating more human flesh, than both love and hatred put together.

There are few nations but have offered human victims to their deities; and it was an established custom to eat part of the sacrifices they offered.

It appears pretty certain, from Dr. Hawkesworth’s account of the voyages to the South Seas, that the inhabitants of New Zealand ate the bodies of their enemies. Mr. Petit has a learned dissertation on the nature and manners of the Anthropophagi. Among other things, he disputes whether or no the Anthropophagi act contrary to nature? The philosophers, Diogenes, Chrysippus, and Zeno, followed by the whole body of Stoics, held it a very reasonable thing for men to eat each other.

According to Sextus Empiricus, the first laws were those made to prevent men from eating each other, as had been done until that time.