Abbildungen der Seite
PDF
EPUB

feeble note-Tonthormo fighs-Maid Aftall-nymph of the frying impleof the gurgling faucepan-Tonthormo ment, where wert thou then-a stail— fighs-for-thee! as fmaller fhips in the great vortex whelmed his hand, ill-fated-his mighty arm to a basket clung-the stall fell down. Farewell, thou nimble-fingered Scampo. His eyes are closed in darknefs.-Fair bird of St Giles: I will weep rivers. I will make the parched earth an ocean. The trembling Blowzinda approach-Look! her fainting eyes! her lover's breathless trunk now

The fhrill trumpet founds-Tall as the lofty cedar Giganta moveth-her head pierceth the heavens--her feet trip pingly play on the well-frequented booth -Say, fhall fhe devour the all living fons of the rock-shall she ope the gates that expand like the doors of the firmament. Child of fhow, and faufagebeardlefs nymph of the ftall-flowly moves the rush-compounded basket moves-fwift as the doc, beloved by Look! ye natives of Milton-her cavern mouth expands-The tall Giganta! rival of the oaks-devours-anoyster.

But hark! That groan-again! No more. Son of Bow-ftreet-thou diest with a victor's fhout-Catchpollo the great thy glories fhroud thy ftaff tall as the Corinthian pillar-capped with the arms of royalty.

Scampo was an element in his green youth-he grew like the Indian cornhis head majeftic rofe, between two brawney fhoulders, Thus rifeth the fpire between the adjacent wings. Scampo had a foe-they fought. Scampo fell, as would the monumental pillar that marks the once all-blazing city-his jetblack locks that feldom knew the infectdifturbing comb, kifs the ground-his blood enfanguines the ftraw-girt pen!

cits on Eafter day-fhe flies over the pens of the half-fold fheep-gazes on ill-fated Scampo, lifts the sturdy arm on his gall-provoking foe-and d-ns his eyes.

Tipftaffo! where wert thou? Marfhal of citizens, why lingers thy flow arm? Scampo bites the ground. His foe now triumphs, and fpins the neverending ribbon. Fearlefs he fwallows the devouring fire. Clouds come from his mouth-the furnace top.

Such were the words of Flocono. He raifes the head of Puncho, glorious as the mountain-top. The clangour of arms is heard. The oyfter gapes to be devoured-the fleet courfer into faufage turned-Son of Longlano! He strode along-and as he went-devoured the cock-and-breeches.

A SKETCH OF FASHIONABLE LIFE.

BY DR CURRIE.

C.

AS it is an acknowledged fact, con- ceffive indulgence in the pleasures of firmed by daily obfervation, that the the table; want of exercife, lying too conftitutions of people of fashion are long in bed; refpiring confined air; and exceedingly delicate, and eafily dif- vexation of mind. Diet, rendered exordered, and that very few of that def- quifitely ftimulating and relishing by the cription live to old age, I hope it will art of cookery, has fo pleafing an effect not be unacceptable, if I point out the upon the palate, as to tempt to indul caufes thereof, and the remedies: and gence in much more than is really necefthough I may not advance a single idea fary for the fupport or nutrition of the that is new on the fubject, there can be body; efpecially when wine, of the no disadvantage in recalling the atten- moft enlivening quality and delicious tion, as occafion may require, to ufeful-flavour, is joined with the principal truths, which might otherwife be for- meals. This regimen, with the obgotten. fervance of regularity, it is true, increafes the bulk, fulness, and strength

The principal of thefe caufes are ex

of

[blocks in formation]

But, fuch a mode of living, when little or no exercife is taken, is foon productive of the most unfalutary effects. When carried to excefs, it always occafions repletion, and a quantity of blood difproportioned to the capacity of the veffels, and difpofes the body to very violent diseases. Every meal taken to excefs, creates drowfinefs, fucceeded by feverish symptoms, particularly preternatural heat and restlessness. The violence done to the ftomach by preternatural stimuli and diftention, at length relaxes and weakens; hence its digeftive powers are enfeebled, and the fame condition is communicated to the whole nervous system, and to all the functions of the body which depend upon it. These disagreeable effects are confirm ed by a fedentary life.

A found state of health depends upon firm, fibres, steady nerves, good dig tion, regular circulation of the blood, and regular evacuations. This ftate can only be preserved by temperance or moderation in diet (including drinks) exercise, pure air, and tranquillity of mind;-other means may be of fervice; but these are indifpenfable. Want of exercise, alone, never fails to occafion relaxation and a morbid fenfibility of the nerves, a sensibility and irritability, of which the active and robuft can have no idea.

The fame relaxed and debilitated condition is produced by lying in bed all the morning, in the confined air of a chamber, fecluded from the cheering rays of light.

Compare the pale and bloated vifage of a fashionable lounger, with the ruddy and healthful countenance of the temperate and early-rifing farmer, and the advantages of temperance in eating and drinking, and of early rifing and activity, will be confpicuous. The noxVol. LVIII.

ious effects of confined and stagnant air are too well known to need defcription. Air in circulation is abfolutely neceffary for the fupport of both animal and ve getable life: motionlefs air is as def tractive to both, as ftagnant and putrid waters are to fishes formed to exift in a river. By fecluding ourselves from the free and open air, we deprive ourselves of one of nature's choiceft blessings, and foon become unfit for the valuable purposes of life. It is very astonishing that men, who cannot exist a moment without air, should be fo afraid of it, and yet fo little attentive to the quality of what he breathes. Confined and impure air equally affects the health of the greatest beauty beneath her guilded roof, the fheep in the fold, and the plant in the green-houfe. Vexation or uneafinefs of mind, whether proceeding from refentment, envy, difcontent, or forrow, has a relaxing and debilitating ef fect, by deftroying the appetite and digeftion, and preventing nutrition. People of wealth and fashion are more liable to vexation than others; for having no neceffary objects of purfuit, they become fatiated and displeased with every thing: they are apt to engage in various projects, in hopes of obtaining that plenitude of fatisfaction they have fought for in vain, in the haunts of diffipation-fome enter into schemes for augmenting their fortune, and frequently meet with vexatious loffes ;-others "build enormous palaces, the fools and architects to please;" and run in debt for ornaments and equipage. Some, in order to kill time, ruin their estates at games of hazard. Numerous are the modes of embarraffing a man's circumstances, and as numerous are his causes of vexation. But he that courts popu larity, or confiders a title as effential to happinefs, is liable to a multiplicity of vexations: he grows fufpicious and ap prehenfive of every one engaged in the fame purfuit, and difcontent gnaws the root of his felicity; if he fails in his purfuit, he becomes a dejected valetudinarian. It is certain that many of the 4 G

com

complaints of the man of fashion are themfelves. They cannot enjoy happiwholly imaginary; they derive their nefs who affect a difrelish for every existence from fancy, humour, and an pleasure that is not both exquifite and unmanly fubjection to the opinion of new; who measure enjoyment, not by others; their diftrefs is real; but its their own fenfations, but by the standard reality arifes not from the nature of of fashion; and who think themselves things, but from that diforder of the wretched if others do not pay them imagination which a fmall measure of homage. It is not from wants or forreflection might correct. Their fantaf- rows that their complaints arife, but tic refinements, fickly delicacy, and from the languor of vocant life, and the eager emulation to eclipfe each other irritation occafioned by those stagnating in ornament and figure, open a thou- humours which eafe and indulgence fand fources of vexation peculiar to have bred within them.

AGRICULTURAL REMARKS AND OBSERVATIONS.

SIR,

IN times of fcarcity, and when the attention of fo great a part of the community is turned to improvements in agriculture, the following account of the Swedish turnip, and Indian wheat, will no doubt be acceptable to many of your readers.

OF THE RUTA BAGA, OR SWEDISH

TURNIP.

nary quality of the ruta baga is, that it feems impoffible to make it rot; tho' bit or trod upon by cattle or horses, it it never rots, but whatever part of the root is left, nay, if fcooped out to the fhell, it remains perfectly fresh, and in fpring puts out a new stem. It is needlefs to obferve, that the oppofite of this obtains with the turnip. The culture too of this valuable root is perfectly IN any country where stock occupies fimple: When first attempted, gentlemuch attention, and of confequence men obferved the rules laid down in renders fuch benefit to the farmer, fome the news-paper, viz. Raifing the plants root or plant seems wanting to give to in a hot-bed, and then transplanting the cattle, between the time that the them into the field. This method turnips begin to fhoot, and of course, never answered; they rofe to no size; to cease to afford nourishment, and the but on their trying them by the feed coming in of the grafs. The ruta baga fown in the field, and managed in efeems admirably calculated for that pur- very refpect the fame as turnips, (only pofe. For befides being later of fhoot. fown a month earlier,) all their expecin than the turnip, it lofes not its nu- tations were gratified, and good crops tritive qualities after it has shot, but re- followed. Both roots and leaves are tains all its juices and folidity: whereas alfo excellent for culinary purposes; it is well known that a turnip, after it and for that caufe, numbers of people has put forth its flower, becomes dry, in the country now raise a few in light, and reedy, and in every refpect their gardens for the pot. But be unfit for feeding either cattle or fheep. fore concluding this article, it is Horfes, too, feem very fond of it; and worth mentioning, as an example of it may be, with propriety, given to out- what feeding will do, when carried lying young horfes, who eat them with on according to the above fyftem, by a great eagerness. A gentleman was led conftant fucceffion of green food: An to try this experiment, from obferving, ox bred by one of the heritors of the pathat when his young horfes broke out of rifh of Mordington, which, though only the field, they conftantly fed on the ruta 4 years old, is allowed by all judges to boga, though in the fame field there was a be above an hundred flones weight; large quantity of turnips, which they never i. . the weight of the four quarters onfered to touch. Another extraordi

ly.

A PRACTICAL ACCOUNT OF THE CUL-
TURE OF INDIAN WHEAT IN ENGLAND.

An ear

ly. He never has been houfed, and regular rows round a white pithy subnever got any thing but turnips, grafs, ftance, which forms the ear. and a little hay. His dam, when in contains from two to four hundred calf of him, was bought for 61. Sterling. grains, and is from fix to ten inches in length. They are of various colours, blue, red, white, and yellow. The manner of gathering them is by cutting down the stems and breaking off the ears. The ftems are as big as a man's' wrift, and look like Bamboo cane; and' the pith is full of a juice that taftes as fweet as fugar. The joints are about a foot and a half diftance. The increafe' is upwards of five hundred fold. Upon a large fcale, to fave the expence of hilling, the feed may be drilled in alleys like peas; and, to fave digging, the ground may be ploughed and harrowed, which will answer very well. It will grow upon all kinds of land. The ears which grow upon dry fandy land are lefs, but harder and riper. The grain

THE ground on which this grain fhould be planted must be a loamy fand, very rich. In the beginning of April, the grains fhould be fet like hops, at two feet diftance, fix or eight grains in a hill, each grain about an inch deep in the ground. The feed from New Eng land is the best. In the beginning of May, the alleys fhould be hoed, and the hills weeded and earthed up higher. At the latter end of that month, all the fuperfluous stalks fhould be taken away, and only three stems of corn left in each hill. By the middie of June it will cover the alley. It grows much like bulrushes, the lower leaves being is taken from the husk by hand, and like broad flags, three or four inches wide, and as many feet in length; the tems fhooting upwards, from feven to ten feet in height, with many joints calling off flag leaves at every joint. Under these leaves, and close to the ftem, grows the corn, covered over by many coats of fedgy leaves, and fo clofed in by them to the ftem, that it does not thew itself eafily, till there burst out at the end of the ear a number of ftrings, that look like tufts of horfehair, at first of a beautiful green, and afterwards red or yellow. The ftem ends in a flower. The corn will ripen in September; but the fun at that feafon not having strength enough to dry it, it must be laid upon racks, or thin open floors, in dry rooms, and frequently turned, to avoid moulding. The grains are about as big as peas, and adhere in

when ground upon French stones makes an excellent flour, of which it yields much more, with much less bran than wheat does, and exceeds it in cruft, pancakes, puddings, and all other ufes except bread; but a fweetnefs peculiar to it, which in other cafes makes it agreeable, is here naufeous. It is excellent for feeding poultry and hogs, and fattens both much better and fooner than peas or barley. The stems make better hedges for kitchen gardens than reeds do. It clears the ground from weeds, and makes a good feafon for any other kind of corn. Pifo, and other Spanish physicians, are fuil of the medicinal virtues of this grain. It was the only bread-corn known in America when first discovered by the Spaniards, and is there called Maize.

ON THE USE OF LIME AS A MANURE.

K.

In

AS agriculture has been followed to man, would have long ago arrived at from the earliest period, and in almoft a high degree of perfection: This, howevery climate, we might expect that ever, is far from being the cafe. the principles of it would be well un- moft countries, it is followed only by derflood; and that an art fo extenfively the ignorant, the poor, and the opprefpractifed, and fo indifpenfibly neceffary fed, by perfons little capable of protit4 G 2

ing

ing by observation, and unable to make has already been derived from other thofe experiments which would lead to improvement.

fciences, the intelligent farmer is now preferved in fome parts of his procefs, from acting fo much at random, as in former times; the truth of this may be fhown, from the manner in which lime It was

But even in thofe places, where it employs the attention of the rich and the intelligent, its progrefs to perfection must be flow. In order to afcertain a has been used as a manure. fingle fact, repeated experiments must long employed by the farmer, before be made, requiring a confiderable length philofophy could give any fatisfactory of time, and liable to be interrupted by account of its operation; it had often the feafons, and a variety of accidents; been obferved to be useful, and fre and, when the fact is at length establish- quently it was found to injure the land. ed, it cannot, perhaps, be extensively The farmer endeavoured to acquire a applied, from the difference of fituation, of foil, of climate, &c.

Befides, agriculture, as an art, can never be carried to perfection, until it be ftudied as a fcience. The farmer may collect a multitude of facts, which have been afcertained by others; fome of these may, upon trial, be found to be applicable in his fields, while others are not. Philofophy must step forward to explain the reason, why the experience of others has failed, or been confirmed; the principles of the explanation can alone enable the farmer to adapt his measures to the change of fitua

tion.

knowledge of its utility, by repeated and extenfive obfervations; but, in at tempting to enumerate the several kinds of foil for which it was serviceable, he was in danger of error and confufion, in fpecifying the almost endless variety. When Sir John Pringle, by his experiments on feptic fubftances, ascertained, that lime ftrongly promoted the putre faction of thofe kinds of matter that were fubject to this process, philosophy foon carried the fact to the farmer, and taught him to account for one of the effects of lime in his fields. Philofophy has not yet explained how the vegetables grow; but it points out to him the fact, that corrupting vegetable and ani

The branches of philofophy, which are related to agriculture, are not yet mal fubftances are highly useful to vepearly perfected; the proper pabulum of vegetables is ftill unknown, the phifiology of them is yet in its infancy, and even the attainments in univerfal chemistry, are not great. In fuch circumftances, the application of philofophy to this art, is in danger of creating hy pothefes, which are always injurious to true knowledge.

But where the facts in philofophy are well afcertained, and are capable of being fairly applied to explain any branch of agriculture, we ought certainly to use them for promoting this valuable art by this, we fhall enlarge and establish the knowledge of the fare mer, and teach him to employ the en. creafing light of general fcience, for conducting him to higher attainments in his own particular branch.

In consequence of the affistance which

getation, and informs him that the fields, whofe foil contains many uncor rupted vegetable fubftances, will be profited by lime: that in thofe fields where, from the nature of the foil, or heat of the climate, the putrefaction goes on with fufficient rapidity of itself, lime, and other feptic fubftances, are unneceffary; but, where this is not the cafe, they will be highly advantageous.

Though the phyfiology of vegetables has fo lately begun to be ftudied by Girtanner and others, we already know fo much of it, as will, perhaps, enable us now to proceed much further, in explaining the action of lime as a manure. There is reafon to believe, that a num ber of thofe ftimuli which affect the living animal fibre, and excite it to ac tion, produce a fimilar effect on the fibres of vegetables; as light, heat, elec

tricity,

« ZurückWeiter »