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171 From some experiments, however, the writer has recently made with the Liverwort, he is of opinion that it possesses decidedly curative virtues, in at least two of the species of consumption; the Phthisis Hemoptorica, or bleeding from the lungs.
Dr. Hereford has lately published an additional note on the subject of the liverwort. He advises that during the trial of this tea the patient should abstain from the use of all other medicine; but the leaves and stalks only should be employed in the decoction; that the roots are nauseating, and otherwise ill adapted to the cure of the disease for which the plant is recommended; and that many persons cook the plant too much, a simple infusion only of heated water being necessary.
A LITERARY GEM.
There are four lines of Pollock's course of time, the authorship of which we would not exchange for that of many of the "two volume" works with which the world is daily infested. They contain a simile, admirable, beyond any thing we have met with for many years. They are the closing lines of a touching description of a dying mother. Speaking of her eyes shining with resplendent brightness, even in the moment of her dissolution, the poet says
"They set as sets the morning star, which goes
The close of life has been often compared to the flower, fading in its loveliness-to the going down of the sunto the star,
"That falls to rise no more.'
These descriptions are mournfully welcome to the human breast, bleeding with anguish, when all that it loves descends to the remorseless tomb. But they leave even hope in darkness. In the simile of which we speak in no measured language, the effect is the very reverse. The eyes closing in death, still beaming with
celestial brightness, are compared to the beautnu Hesperus, shining from the unclouded heavens, and gradually melting into the refulgence of the rising day. It is indeed beautiful-transcendently beautiful. There is a something-it is a moral sublimity in the very thought, that affords us a conscious triumph over the frailties of humanity, and we almost involuntarily exclaim "How beautiful is the court of death."
SHE HAS LEFT ME.
THERE is something inexpressibly touching in an anecdote related in a London paper, of an artist. He was an American, and had come hither, (he and his young wife,) to paint for fame-and a subsistence. They were strangers in England; they had to fight against prejudice and poverty; but their affection for each other solaced them under every privation, every frown of fortune. They could think at least "all the way over" the great Atlantic; and their fancy, (little cherished here,) had leisure to be busy among the friends and scenes they had left behind. A gentleman who had not seen them for some length of time, went one day to the artist's painting room and observing him pale and wan, inquired about his health, and afterwards regarding his wife. He answered only, "She has left me," and proceed in a hurried way with his work.
She was dead!-and he was left alone to toil, and get money, and mourn. The heart in which he had hoarded all his secrets, all his hopes, was cold; and fame was but a shadow! And so it is that all who live must wither and die away! It is a true saying, yet a wholesome moral belongs to it. The thread of life is spun; it is twisted firmly, and looks as if it would last for ever. All colors are there-the gaudy yellow and the sanguine red, and black-dark as death; yet it is cut in twain, almost before we discern the peril.
The following are the dimensions of an oak, which may be justly termed the king of the British forest
Improvements of the Age.
scenery. It is growing about one mile from Hemel Hempstead, Essex, the burying place of the celebrated Harvey, (who discovered the circulation of the blood.) The stem of this enormous tree is sound.-The top began to get bare about 150 years ago-the centre is pretty well clothed with foliage. It is not until you have ascended into this magnificent tree that you have a full idea of its amazing spread, or become struck with the magnitude of its limbs, on the lateral spread of which 20 or 30 people might stand without inconvenience to each other. The girth at six feet from the ground is 58 feet nine inches, principal arm 18 feet 10 inches, of the next 16 feet 9 inches, circumference of branches, 353 feet.
IMPROVEMENTS OF THE AGE.
If we look around us to discover what are the great moral improvements which principally distinguish our own age, we shall find that they consist not so much in invention as instruction; not so much in the promulgation of original knowledge, as in the diffusion among many, of that which had long been the property of a few. We presume that Jeremy Taylor entertained as clear an apprehension of the principles of toleration and religious liberty as is entertained by any one at the present day; but those principles are now understood by a thousand, where they were understood in his time by one; and the consequence of this consentaneous adoption of them is, that they are beginning to be extensively and thoroughly practised upon. Milton perceived the value of education, and its important effects on the community, as clearly as we do; but how many are there who now enjoy the privilege of abundant instruction, who, if they had lived when he lived, would not have been able to read the word of God, or to write their own names.
And that which has been so happily supplied, is still the demand. The great call of the age still continues to be for the wider dissemination of existing knowledge. The crying want of society, morally and intellectually considered, is, not for any striking discoveries from in
dividuals, but that the multitude should be raised up to the same attainments which well instructed individuals already possess, and which have been possessed by a scattered few in almost every period of recorded time.
Diffusion and dissemination, therefore, are the great designs of the age. Invention is their servant and minister. It is no vain show which is in progress. The gold of the treasury must be yet more widely thrown out among the crowd. The heaps of the granary must be yet more generously distributed among the dwellings of the poor. The time has come, when men must have the truth, and the whole truth; and they ought to have it. The old notion, that there may be one belief for the multitude, and another for the initiated, now seems to be more glaringly false and empty than ever, and should be indignantly dismissed by every honest man.
Most of the pleasurable diversions have a tendency, when pursued with excessive ardor, not only to relax in a proper degree, but to enervate the mind. They indispose it for manly virtue, and introduce a tenderness of feeling ill-suited to encounter the usual asperities of common life. But the study of music, under due direction, while it sweetly soothes the sense of hearing, touches the soul, and refines its nature. Conducted by philosophy, it is able to infuse the noblest thoughts, to urge to the most animated actions, to calm the ruffled spirits, and co-operating with religion, to eradicate every malignant propensity. It is to be lamented that music, which, when properly regulated, fills the young mind with virtuous and generous sentiments, should form only an innocent pastime or polite ainusement. There are some tunes which are no less adapted to excite a spirit of piety, and elevate the soul to heaven, than to soothe the ear by their simple melody.
The effulgence of the sun is no longer witnessed his last rays have tinged the verdant landscape; and he has now retired beyond the western mountains.
The moon, with majestic beauty and brightness maintains her ceaseless course, and guides the wanderer to his home. The twinkling stars, decorating the canopy above, and sparkling with undiminished splendor, speak forth the wisdom of the great Original. All nature breathes a solemn adieu to the departing day: silence pervades the earth; and intelligent beings may now pause to contemplate, with those hallowed feelings which the auspicious period inspires, the glories of their Creator, the wisdom and beauty of all his works. This sacred hour is peculiarly adapted to awaken feelings of gratitude; to inspire the heart with holy love; to animate our hopes, and guide to virtue. Man is the only intelligent creature that inhabits the globe; the only being who can admire and love his Creator. How exalted his rank! how noble his existence !
There are moments in life, in which we are led to contemplation: there is a time, when the past is recalled; when the future is anticipated. That time is evening; when we sit by the burning taper, or when, by moonlight, we range the fertile fields.
'Oft have I paused, when ev'ning's silent hour
Was fraught with beauties seemingly divine,
With luxuries, she seemed to say were mine.'
Evening outvies every other hour in time. The day has passed, with all its perplexities and cares; naught presents to disturb the tranquil breast; and we are permitted to enjoy the sacred sweets which memory awakens. And though it may not always be pleasing to reflect on the past, still it is profitable. The present will be appreciated; the future prepared for. The morning and noonday of life may pass unheeded; but the evening of existence will come; and that it may beam with hope, we should improve life as it passes.
It cannot be that earth is man's
It cannot be that our life is a bubble, cast up by the ocean of eternity, to float a moment upon its waves,