To communicate this result of my experiment-was my foremost purpose. 2dly, as a purpose collateral to this, I wished to explain how it had become impossible for me to compose a Third Part in time to accompany this republication: for during the very time of this experiment, the proof sheets of this reprint were sent to me from London, and such was my inability to expand or to improve them, that I could not even bear to read them over with attention enough to notice the press errors, or to correct any verbal inaccuracies. These were my reasons for troubling my reader with any record, long or short, of experiments relating to so truly base a subject as my own body and I am earnest with the reader that he will not forget them, or so far misapprehend me as to believe it possible that I would condescend to so rascally a subject for its own sake, or indeed for any less object than that of general benefit to others. Such an animal as the self-observing valetudinarian-I know there is: I have met him myself occasionally:

What mean these abrupt relapses, the reader will ask perhaps, to such numbers as 300-350, &c.? The impulse to these relapses, was mere infirmity of purpose: the motive, where any motive blended with this impulse, was either the principle of "reculer pour mieux sauter;" (for under the torpor of a large dose, which lasted for a day or two a less quantity satisfied the stomach-which, on awaking, found itself partly accustomed to this new ration): or else it was this principle that of sufferings otherwise equal those will be borne best which meet with a mood of anger; now, whenever I ascended to any large dose, I was furiously incensed on the following day, and could then have borne any thing.

and I know that he is the worst imaginable heautontimoroumenos ; aggravating and sustaining, by calling into distinct consciousness, every symptom that would else perhaps-under a different direction given to the thoughts become evanescent. But as to myself, so profound is my contempt for this undignified and selfish habit, that I could as little condescend to it as I could to spend my time in watching a poor servant girl-to whom at this moment I hear some lad or other making love at the back of my house. Is it for a Transcendental Philosopher to feel any curiosity on such an occasion? Or can I, whose life is worth only 8 years' purchase, be supposed to have leisure for such trivial employments ?-However, to put this out of question, I shall say one thing, which will perhaps shock some readers: but I am sure it ought not to do so, considering the motives on which I say it. No man, I suppose, employs much of his time on the phenomena of his own body without some regard for it; whereas the reader sees that, so far from looking upon mine with any complacency of regard, I hate it and make it the object of my bitter ridicule and contempt: and I should not be displeased to know that the last indignities which the law inflicts upon the bodies of the worst malefactors might hereafter fall upon it. And, in testification of my sincerity in saying this, I shall make the following offer. Like other men, I have particular fancies about the place of my burial: having lived chiefly in a mountainous region, I rather cleave to the conceit that a grave in a green church-yard amongst the ancient and solitary hills will be a sublimer and more tranquil place of repose for a philosopher than any in the hideous Golgothas of London. Yet if the gentlemen of Surgeons' Hall think that any benefit can redound to their science from inspecting the appearances in the body of an opiumeater, let them speak but a word, and I will take care that mine shall be legally secured to them—i. e., as soon as I have done with it myself. Let them not hesitate to express their wishes upon any scruples of false delicacy, and consideration for my feelings: 1 assure them they will do too much honour by 'demonstrating' on such a crazy body as mine: and it will give me pleasure to anticipate this posthumous revenge and insult inflicted upon that which has caused me so much suffering in this life. Such bequests are not common: reversionary benefits contingent upon the death of the testator are indeed dangerous to announce in many cases of this we have a remarkable instance in the habits of a Roman prince-who used, upon any notification made to him by rich persons that they had left him a handsome estate in their wills, to express his entire satisfaction at such arrangements, and his gracious acceptance of those loyal legacies: but then, if the testators neglected to give him immediate possession of the property, if they traitorously persisted' in living (si vivere perseverarent, as Suetonious expresses it), he was highly provoked, and took his measures acordingly.-In those times, and from one of the worst of the Cæsars, we might expect such conduct: but I am

sure that from English surgeons at this day I need look for no expressions of impatience, or of any other feelings but such as are answerable to that pure love of science and all its interests which induces me to make such an offer.- p. 190-206.

How very extraordinary is this! We never met any person so strongly distinguishing between body and soul-or rather who so completely looked upon his soul to be his self, and his body a mere case*. The spirit of anger and revenge, which he seems to feel towards his own body is most singular, in the strict sense of the word-for we believe there never was any one who hated his physical frame in any manner at all like this. Pope, Scarron, and others have incidentally alluded in a sneering manner to their personal deformities. Scarron, especially, makes it the subject of many of his jests;-but though many persons-Pope in particular-have been, and are, exceedingly angry at their being deformed or ill-favoured, yet we believe few, if any of them, feel hatred towards the actual carcase of the imperfections of which they complain. The feelings of the Opium-eater towards his body arise,

* We lately had the pleasure of going over the atelier of Mr. Newton, in which we saw the portrait of an (not this) Opium-eater. We never saw a piece which struck us more. The Opium-eater was a lecturer, and is drawn in the act of delivering his lecture;-the arm is extended, and the long lean hand drooped downwards:-the tall gaunt form-the meagre and embrowned visage-and, above all, the eye, beaming with indescribable unearthly expression-all this renders the whole figure like that of a being of another world;-an embodying of one of the imaginations of Goëthe. This picture is little more than a sketch; but we confess we like the first impress of genius in everything-before the cold hand of correction has polished away its more irregular but stronger beauties. We hope Mr. Newton will be induced to exhibit this piece. In our view, it will add materially indeed to his reputation-for his pencil has hitherto been chiefly noted for its perfection of delicate humour and arch playfulness, whereas this effort is one of equal excellence in a much higher branch of art.

however, from totally different causes; and we cannot help saying that we consider it somewhat unjust to confine these revengeful wishes wholly to the physique-if his morale had not been of the very most extraordinary nature, he never would have starved in the way he did-his stomach would then never have suffered those violent pains which drove him to opium -argal, he would never have undergone the pangs arising from opium-eating.

We hope that the surgeons will profit by the author's offer:-we speak in perfect seriousness-for we hold in extreme contempt the estimation of the carrion-like carcase, when the informing spirit is gone;-and in a case such as this, where the interests of medical science would be so materially benefited, we really think that "no scruples of false delicacy" should stand in their way. We truly hope, however, that the surgeons will have to wait very long for their reversion.

It will be seen that we have taken the author's offer au pied de la lettre ;-we do indeed, we must repeat, though not in the least given to be over credulous, put faith in all that the author has confessed. He leaves us, we regret, without a positive assurance that the final links are untwisted-and, from the purposed deception of his former conclusion, we fear that they are not. Still he has evidently lightened and loosened his chain to a very great degree, and we trust that it will ere long wholly and finally fall from him. We hope, in the next edition, he will give us this assurance in direct terms.

We have thus given our readers a taste-and we can assure them it is no more-of this very extraordinary volume. It is written almost throughout with the force, rapidity, and felicity of style which must

have been remarked in the extracts we have made. Some few instances there are of extravagance-such as apostrophizing Oxford-street as a stony-hearted step-mother!'-but for the most part the powers of composition are worthy of the powers of mind which the book so eminently displays. There is on occasion, also, a flash of pungent humour, which shews that the author might, if he chose it, be as distinguished as a wit as he is as a scholar and a metaphysician.Our extracts have been, to use an established phrase, copious-but we can assure our readers that they are but a specimen of the curiosities to be found in this Book of Wonders.'

Sylla, Tragédie en Cinq Actes. Par E. Jouy, Membre de l'Institut, (Académie Française.) Paris, Ponthieu,

1822.

THIS work possesses great claims to interest. It is the production of a person of distinguished talents and reputation, and has had, from various causes, splendid and extraordinary success. The name of M. de Jouy is well known in this country, principally from the Hermite de la Chaussée d'Antin, and the succeeding similar publications. These works, which have been collectively published under the title of "Mœurs Françaises," are very generally read in England, and as generally admired. For our own part, they have always possessed to us the greatest fascination, and we have ever placed them in a far higher rank than the lightness of such compositions at first sight seems to deserve. In writings treating of the passing frivolities of Parisian fashionable life, it is na