part be then covered by a blistering plaster, somewhat longer than the wound. As soon as a bladder is perceived to have rilea under the plafter, raise the edge of it, and let out the lymph ; and, in order to keep it running, let it be daily dressed during fourteen days, or longer, with an ointment composed of equal parts of Emplaftrum veficatorium, and Unguentum cærule in for. tius, P. L. melted together in a very gentle heat. Let a dracha of mercurial ointment be rubbed into ihe fore part of the legs of the patient every other night, and on the nights intervening let him take a bolus, composed of three or four grains of can. phore, and a drachm of conferve of roses. If any signs of falivation appear, it must be checked by a day or two's suspen. fion, and a dose of Glauber's salt.

Every person who, from the bite of a dog really mad, kas re. ceived the fatal poison, whose conftitution is at that time dir. posed for such infection, and who has ignorantly depended on fea-bathing, or on any specific taken internally, will most cere tainly, in the space of a few weeks, perceive symptoms of the approaching catastrophe, called bydrophobia. In this ftage of the disease, I fear there is very little probability of recorery. I have, perhaps rather wantonly, advised intoxication : I am el of opinion that it is an experiment worth trying; it can certainly do no harm. I remember somewhere to have read of opium, in large doses, being successfully administered ; but I do not find this practice confirmed by experience. Powerful anti-spasmodics are certainly indicated.

This may poilibly be read by persons who live in the country, at some diftance from an apothecary ; and, consequently, in case of an accident, it may be many hours before any mercuria! ointment can be procured. Such readers will neceifariya, What then is to be done?-Whilft the person bit is fucking the wound, let a spoonful of lard, or tallow, or fat of any kind, be melted, and immediately, with the hand, rubbed into the pari, continuing the operation until the fat is entirely absorbed. Lei him then take his horse and ride leisurely to the nearest apothe. cary, who will proceed as above directed.

To the P R I N T E R. SIR, T HE following is a prescription I gave to lieutenant B ,

on his going to London I put it in his pocket, that te miglit have recourie to it at all times, and in all places, either on


the road, in London, or where ever he goes with his recruiting party.

An INFALLIBLE RECEIPT for all Gentlemen Travellers.

REMEMBER HIM WHO IS INVISIBLE! THIS famous remedy, and most excellent preservative, in all malignant and contagious distempers, was firtt found out by an eminent person called Mofes, in the year 1511, from the crea. tion of the world : it has been since strongly recommended, and the practice of it enforced by an infinitely greater perlon; and though the use of it has of late been much neglected, especially by people of fashion, fuperior understanding, and genteel liberal education, yet the goodness and falutary effects of it have never been questioned, even by those who have at all times shewn the greatest contempt for physicians, and the remedies they prefcribe.

The remedy, you fee, is of a portable nature ; the compofi. tion, one single ingredient ; it is Tuited to all ages, and all clie. mates ; it is neceffery for the busy and the idle, the active and the sedentary, for the merchant in his compting-house, the lawyer at the bar, and the parson in his pulpit. It requires no confine. ment ; it may be taken night or day, even in company, and in the midst of a croud : its operations are imperceptible, but the effects so strong, that many who had taken a pretty large quan. tity (for some conítitutions require a larger dore than others) have happily escaped the most dangerous distempers, even in places where the air was infected with a worse ditorder than the late general influenza. la mort, I have so great an opinion of the receipt, that I would not only recommend it to others, but heartily wish I may never be without it myself; and, as you are a particular friend, advise you to have it always at hand, and not to be satisfied with one short draught or two, morning and evening, as too many do, but carry it about with you for ready use on all occasione.

T HE following is a letter from his Prussian majelty to the

1 celebrated Mons. d'Alembert, in answer to a proposition from the latter, of his majesty's becoming a subscriber to the itatue of Voltaire, which was then making at Paris, by a subscrip4 E 2


tion, to which none were admitted but the most distinguished characters in the literary world,

THE finest monument of Voltaire, is the one be ere&ts him. felf, in his works; they will fubfift longer than the baGlic of St. Peter's, the Louyre, and all those buildings that yanity confecrates to eternity. Though French be no longer spoken, Vol. taire shall still be translated in the tongue that shall have face ceeded it: in the mean time, full of the pleasure given me by his productions, fo various, and each so perfect in its kind, I could not, without being ungrateful, refuse myself to the propo. sition you make me, of contributing to the monument now raising for him by the hand of public gratitude. You need only inform me of what is expected on my part; I will refase nothing for this statue, that does more honour to the men of let. ters who consecrate it to him, than to Voltaire himself. The world fall say, that in this 17th century, when so many people of learning vie with each other to destroy their cotempora. ries, there have been found some noble and generous enou rh ta render justice to a man endowed with a genius and talents superior to all ages ; that we have deserved Voltaire, the lateit por terity shall still envy us this advantage. To diftinguith cele. brated merit, to render justice to merit, is to encourage both sci. ence and virtue ; it is the only recompence of great minds, and is well due to those who cultivate in a superior manner the Belles Lettres. They procure pleasures of an exalted species, more durable than those of the body; they foften the most ob. durate natures, they spread their charms on the whole course of life, they render our existence supportable, and death less ter. rible. Continue then, gentlemen, to protect and celebrate those who apply to them, and who in France have the good for. tune to succeed ; you cannot poil bly do any thing more glorious for your nation.


On a Taste for the Cultivation of FLOWERS, and of beautiful.

SHRUBS and TREES. D EAUTY of every kind is formed to captivate ; and

D there is this peculiar advantage in contemplaring the beauties of vegetable nature, that we may permit opr hearts to be ensqared by them, without apprehension of a dangerous or a

di honourable

dishonourable servitade. A taste for the beauties of vegetation is the mark of a pure and innocent mind, and, at the same time, one of the best preservatives of purity and innocence. It diverts the attention from the turbulent scenes of folly, and su. perincends a placid tranquillity, highly favourable to the gentler virtues, and to the permanency of our most refined enjoyments. ·

I have often been surprized to find those, who poffeffed a very acute susceptibility of artificial or literary grace, and were powerfully affected by the beauties of a poem, a piece of sculpture, or a painting, not at all more sensible of the charms of a tree, or a flowret, than a common and inelegant spectator, They have dwelt with rapture on a fine description of the vale of Tempe, they have entered into all the delight which a Shakspeare or ą Milton meant to communicate in their enchanting pictures of Rowery and sylvan scenes, and yet can walk through a wagd, or tread on a bank of violets and primroses, without apo pearing to be affected with any peculiar pleasure, "This is cer. tainly the effect of a superficial judgement; for there is no truth of which philosophers have been longer convinced, than that the realities of nature infinitely exceed the most perfect productions of imitating art.

The beauty of colour, though justly esteemed subordinate to that of thape, is yet found to delight the eye more immediately, and more universally. When colour and shape are united in perfection, he who can view them with infenfibility, muft refign all pretensions to delicacy of perception. Such an union has. been usually effected by nature in the formation of a flower.

There is scarcely a fingle object in all the vegetable world, in which so many agreeable qualities are combined, as in the queen of flowers, the role. Nature certainly meant to regale the lentes of her favourite with an object which presents to him at once, freshness, fragrancy, colour, and thape. The very foul feems to be refreshed on the bare recollection of the pleasure which the. seoses receive in contemplating, in a fine vernal morning, the charms of the pink, the violet, the honey-fuckle, the hyacinth, the narcissus, the jonquil, the rocket, the tulip, and a thousand others, in every variety of figure, fcent, and hue; for nature is no less remarkable for the accuracy and beauty of her works, than for variety and profusion. Defects are always discovered in the works of art, when they are examined with a microf. cope ; but a close examination of a leaf of a flower, is like taking off a veil from the face of beauty. The finest needle ever polished, and pointed by the nooit ingenious artist, appears, when iç is viewed by the solar microscope, quite obtufe ;, while the sting of a bee, however magnified, fill retains all its origi



pal acoteness of termination. The serrated border of the peal of a flower, aod the fridge on the wing of a dy, dupav 23 xcarecy of celineation which no pencilever yet coeld rival. The tate of the florilt bas pot, indeed, been much admired, or general y aspired at ; while that of the connoiffeur ia priation, is confidered as a mark of elegance of characer, and an hcoonsab.e ditticētion : yet, surely, it is an iocoa atency to be transported with the workmaathip of a poor mortal, and feel no raptores on farvering those highly finishe pictures, in which it is easy to face the ficger of the Deiti.

The poets bave given os mot luxurian: descriptions of gardeos, and of rural scenery ; and though tbey are toooght by fome io hore exceejes reclity, they have indeei scarcely equalled it. Eater a moiera thrubbery, formed of a seletion of the molt agreeable flowering hrubs, and coolder whether there is any thing in the garden of Alcinous, in the fields of Elytiam, in Milwa's Paracije, to be compared with the intermixture of the liac, the firioza, the labarnom, the double-bloomed cherry, peacă, aad almoni; tae rabinia, the jefaniae, the mots-role, the magaolis, and a great number of others, les commoa, but not of greater, thocgh perhaps of equal beloty. As we walk under clorters of Howers, white a: (now, sored with gold, purple as toe grape, bloe as the expanie of heaven, and diothing iike the cheek of youth, we are led to imagine ourselves in fairy land, or in another and better world; where every delicate lente is delighted, and all around breattes fragrance, and expands beauty ; where the heart seems to partici. pate in the joy of laughing nature. Groves and gardeas have, jadeed, been always soppoíed to soothe the mind into a placid temper, peculiarly farourable to the indulgence of contemplation.

The excelent talte which now prevails in gardening, ocally combines the ihrubbery and the grove. The tall trees of the foreft copititute the back ground in the living landscape ; and the Ibrobs, beneath and before them, form the onder-wood, in a delightful resemblance to the natural coppice, and the oncolti. vated forest. The plane tree is one of the firft beauties among thole which are now molt frequently planted in our gardeos. Its large leat, and permanent verdure, render it peculiarly fitted to afford a shade. i always confider it as a clasical tree, for the ancient writers often mention it; and some of the fneft philo. fophical dialogues of antiquity pailed under the cool retreat of its broad and vivid foliage. Socrates fought no other theatre than the turf that grew under the plane tree, on the banks of the Ilijas. The weeping-willow, that droops over the bubbling


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