greater degree than the torpedos of Europe, and which, according to M. de Humboldt, is capable of stunning a horse by its shocks. * We are likewise indebted to Mr. Cavendish for some observations on the height of luminous meteors, which led to suspicions that have since been so amply verified, respecting the fall of stones from the atmosphere. He wrote a very learned article, on the means of bringing to perfection meteorologic instruments, and some ingenious remarks on the effects of frigorific mixtures. He even devoted his attention to the Calendar of the Hindoos, and endea voured to compare the confused cycles of those people with our manner of counting time. But the limits of a public discourse will not permit us to analyse his writings: we can only mention them to introduce Mr. Cavendish as an additional proof, that great discoveries are reserved only for men who constantly apply theinselves to study. Towards the close of his life he employed himself in giving more accuracy to the division of great astronomical instruments; and it was certainly carrying the love of accuracy to the extreme, to be dissatisfied with that art which, of all others, had been brought to the greatest perfection. From this long enumeration of the labours of Mr. Cavendish, it may be readily believed that so active a life could not be one of much agitation. But it cannot be imagined to what a degree his life was uniform, and with what rigour he fulfilled the vow he had made, to devote himself to study. The most austere anchorites were Pot more faithful to theirs. Amongst the numerous problems which he resolved, he placed in the first rank that which directs us not to lose a minute nor a word: and he, in fact, gave so complete a solution of it, that he astonished men who were the most econo mical in their time and words. His domestics understood, by his signs, of what he was in want; and, as he gave them scarcely any trouble, this kind of dialogue was very brief. He had but one coat at a time, which he laid aside at fixed periods; and these coats were al ways of the same sort of cloth, and of the same colour. Indeed people go so far as to assert, that, when he intended to ride, he always found his boots in one place, his whip being also placed in one of them, but always in the same boot! 'An opportunity of assisting in some new experiments, or of conversing with some body who could give him information, or receive it from him, were the only cir cumstances that could interrupt his esta blished order, or put him out of his way. On these occasions, however, Mr. Cavendish gave into the pleasures of conversation, and his dialogue, which was completely Socratical, did not end till the subject under discussion was fully elucidated. In all other respects shode of life was a copy of the regule and precision of his experime could not even be altered by an incident which would, to a certainty, have materially changed the conduct of almost any other human being. Being the son of a younger branch of the family, he was in confined circumstances during his youth; and it is sauf that his parents treated him like a man who was not likely ever to become rich. Chance, however, or real merit, decided otherwise. One of his uncles, who had commanded in India, and amassed there a very great fortune, conceived a par ticular affection for him, and left him all he possessed. Mr. Cavendish therefore became suddenly opulent; but, to get rid of his fortune cost him only a few more signs, as he thus pointed out what might be done with the excess of his income! And even to obtain these instructions, his banker was obliged to press him several times. One day he had an opportunity to apprise him that he had suffered his money to accumu late in his (the banker's) hands, till it amounted to ninety-thousand pounds sterling! and that the firm could not, for shaine, continue the care of so enormous a sum, upon their mere per sonal security; a declaration which certainly showed as much delicacy on the one side as carelessness on the other. Nevertheless, the bankers were only answered by signs upon signs, and funds upon funds, till at length Mr. Cavendish left in their hands no less a sum than one million and a half sterling! Few, if any, learned meu have been so rich; and few rich men have become so, like him, without caring for their good fortune. Ibid. 1783, p. 503, and 1786, p. 241. his fortune is also the excuse for it; as we The cause, however, of the greatness of Ibid. 1792, p. 383. Phil. Trans. 1790, p. 101. must 1 must admit that some excuse is necessary for possessing so much wealth. Mr. Cavendish, nevertheless, often sought for the means of diminishing bis own. He supported and put forward in life several young men who gave indications of talents; he formed a grand library, and a most valuable cabinet of philosophical instruments; and he devoted them so completely to the public, that he did not even reserve to himself the privilege of borrowing his own books, except under the same formalities as others, inscribing his name, like them, in the registers of the librarian. On one occasion the keeper of his instruments came, in alarm, to tell him, that a young man had broken a very valuable machine. His answer was, "It is necessary that young men should break machines, that they may learn how to make use of them. Get another in its place!" The regular life of Mr. Cavendish obtained for him a length of days and an IN Till the exemption from infirmities. age of seventy-nine, he preserved his bodily activity and powers of mind. He was probably indebted to the reserve of his manners and the modest tone of his most important writings, for another advantage not less signal, and one which men of genius so seldom euj»y—his tranquillity was not disturbed by the jealousy of criticism. Like his great countryman, Newton, with whom he may in many respects be compared, he died full of years and glory; esteemed by his competitors, respected by the generation which he had enlightened, and celebrated among all the learned men of Europe. In short, he afforded to the world an accomplished model of what all learned men ought to be, and a striking example of the happiness which ought to be general among them. He died at Clapham Common, near London, on the 10th of February, 1811. Extracts from the Portfolio of a Man of Letters. CONCERNING A GHOST STORY. N the Literary Magazine for the year 1791, occurs at p. 122 and 185 à remarkable narrative, written by the Rev. Mr. Evans, a respectable non-conformist minister at Minehead, and one of those who resigned his benefice on account of the perfidious and oppressive Act of Uniformity. This singular but prolix relation attests the appearance of several spectres in distant places and to different persons, during or about the year 1636; all having for their object to charge Alberton, the bishop of Waterford, with the infanticide of a bastard. So many persons are introduced by name, and so circumstantial and consis tent is the evidence they were led to supply, that various depositions were taken on oath, and were transmitted to the council-table at Whitehall, in proof of the transaction; Charles I. being then king. A singular assertion of the ghost is, (p. 124,) that the bishop baptized the child before he had it strangled. This is, of all ghost stories, within my ken of readi, the best attested. Yet in this, as in other cases, no doubt the golden rule should be adhered to, of receiving the natural facts with a presumption in their favour, but the supernatural repreMONTHLY MAS. No. 234. sentations with a presumption in their disfavour. Popular report must have added something, which the narrator may sincerely have believed. And something, it should seem, must be allowed for a form of narration, which occasionally completes the hiatus of evidence by the help of imagination; and which calls these suggestions of the fancy, these probable though visionary conjectures, these limn ings of conscience, these internal apparitions, by the name of spectres,--an expression only unphilosophical in as much as it tends to mislead. Cicero says, that Democritus, of Abdera, first gave a name, and the name of idols, to those shapes which rise within us, as in dreams, and which, even when awake, we sometimes mistake for reality. for which M. de Courcelles, physician for the quarter, prescribed some remedies which seemed to afford relief. On the 1st of October, M. Fournier, another physician to the hospital, began his quarter's attendance. The patient at this time complained of pains in the stomach and vomiting, which much fatigued him. Dr. Fournier, not being able to ascertain the cause or nature of the complaints, directed some remedies which he thought suitable to the case. The man died on the 10th day of the month, at two o'clock in the morning. On the following morning the body was opened. In the chest, on the left side, there was found an effusion of water, and suppuration had commenced in the lungs on the same side. Upon removing the teguments and mus cles of the abdomen, the stomach was seen entirely displaced, occupying the left hypochondrium, and the lumbar and iliac region of the same side, and reaching down quite into the pelvis, close to the foramen ovale. Several hard bodies were felt in it. Dr. Fournier, conceiving the case worthy the attention of his colleagues, suspended further proceedings ill the afternoon. In the mean time, the chest being open, he wished to trace the esophagus its whole length. For this purpose he turned over the heart and Jungs to the opposite side. In effecting this he ruptured the esophagus, which occasioned him to perceive a piece of black wood, which reached from the beginning of the canal to the stomach itself. Notwithstanding this singular appearance, he waited till his colleagues arrived before he proceeded to gratify his curiosity. At three o'clock in the afternoon, about fifty persons, including the physicians, surgeons, pupils, and attendants, were collected together. They first examined the position of the parts that were removed before they arrived at the opening of the stomach, which presented itself under the form of a long square, in which were distinguished four faces, each four inches in breadth, and containing the following substances, of which a detail was drawn up in presence of the speciators. The esophagus, stomach, and most of the intestines, were tinged within with black colour, from the spot where the piece of wood before-mentioned was found, and which was a portion of a barrel hoop: all the substances also within the stomach were tinged with the same dark hue, and had a very foetid odor, even after being washed several times. 1 1. A portion of the hoop of a barrel, nineteen inches long, and one broad. 2. A piece of wood of the broom (genêt), six inches long, and half an inch in diameter. 3. A piece of the same, eight inches long, and half an inch in diameter. 4. A piece of the same, six inches long, diameter as before. 5. Ditto, ditto, four inches long, ditto. 6. Ditto, ditto, ditto, nearly cut in two in the middle. 7. A piece of wood of the oak, four inches and a half long, one inch and a half broad, and half an inch thick. 8. A portion of the same, four inches long, one inch broad, and eight lines in thickness. long, half an inch broad, and four inches in 9. A portion of the saine, four inches thickness. 10. A portion of the same, four inches long, half an inch broad, and four lines in thickness. 11. A portion of the same, two inches long, one inch broad, and half an inch thick. 12. A portion of the same, four inches and a half long, and four lines broad on each of its faces. 13. A portion of the same, four inches long, of a triangular form, and with a surface of four lines. 14. A portion of the same, four inches long, and four lines in diameter. 15, A portion of the same, five inches long, half an inch broad, and two lines in thickness. 16. A portion of the same, five inches long, four lines broad, and two lines thick. 17. A portion of the same, of irregular form, three inches long, and three lines in thickness. 18. A portion of the same, three inches long, half an inch broad, and three lines in thickness. long, one inch broad, and two lines in thick19. A piece of hoop of a barrel, five inches 30. The handle of a tin spoon, four inches and a half long. 31. An entire tin spoon, seven inches long, the bowl of the spoon bent back. 32. Another spoon of the same metal, three inches long. 33. Another ditto, two inches and a half long. 34. A piece of iron, two inches and a half long, half an inch broad, and four lines in thickness, weighing one ounce, four drachms and a half. 35. A bowl of a tobacco pipe, with part of the tube, three inches long. 36. A nail half polished, without the point, with its head, two inches long. 37. A sharp-pointed nail, an inch and a half long. 38. A piece of a tin spoon flattened, an inch long, half an inch broad. 32. Three pieces of metal buckle, of irregular form, each about half an inch long. 40. Five plumb-stones. 41. A small piece of horn. 42. Two pieces of white glass, the largest an inch and four lines in length, half an inch in breadth, and of irregular form. 43. Two pieces of leather, the largest three inches long, an inch broad, and of irregular form; the other am nch and four lines long, and half an inch broad. 44. A knife with its blade, wood handle, bent, three inches and a half long, and an inch in its greatest breadth. The total of these several articles was fifty-two pieces, weighing all together one pound, ten ounces, and four drachms. M. Fournier, who published the particulars of this case, observes, "we cannot but regret the silence of this unfortunate patient respecting the cause of his complaints. If it had been possible for me to have suspected it, I might have asked bim questions which, perhaps, would have led to some explanation of so extraordinary a phenomenon. death I have made every imaginable inSince his quiry into his character, temperament, and habits. All the information I obtained in consequence was, that he was naturally hypochondriacal and rather weak in intellect. He had been a soldier in the marines for thirteen years, and was discharged from the service from his head being deranged. Among other things, his comrades often persuaded him that he was very ill, to which he answered he believed he was, and took to his bed. At that time he had a great appetite, and ate much. Dismissed from the Royal Corps, he returned to Nantes, where, after some time, he was condemned to the galleys. One of his companions, who was subjected to the same punishment, and who was with him in prison, assured me that he has often seen him scrape the line and mortar which covered the walls of the prison, and put a large quantity of them in his soup, saying that it strengthened him and gave him courage. He also added, that sometimes he had a ravenous appetite, which was would then eat as much as would suffice attended with copious salivation; he four men. But, if he could not obtain a sufficient supply of food, which often hap pened, for he was passionately fond of tobacco, and sold his rations to procure it, he then would swallow small stones, buttons, leather gaiters, and other substances. Having also interrogated the men who were on the same bench with him were he was confined, they declared that two days before his entrance into the hos pital, they had seen him swallow two pieces of wood four or five inches long. But, after all the inquiries I was able to make, I could not ascertain when he had swallowed the enormous piece of hoop of nineteen inches. ORIGINAL POETRY. BELLMAN's VERSES, BY WAY ON Written by the late HENRY BUNBURY, esq. IV. at the Wynstage Theatre, many years since, in the life-time of the late Sir WATKIN WILLIAMS WINNE. OYEZ! O yez! by particular desire, I am come forth to speak, as a bellman or cryerj Or a mill, if so curious a thing can be had, To grind some good verses, we've plenty of bad Our master would give any sum to secure one, For we've got but one poet, and he's but a poor one: 'Tis true there's one more, and of humour not crusty, But his pen, by disuse, is grown rotten and rusty; Yet was he, 'tis most certain, and you know it, What is so seldom seen, a real poet. Or give the true twang to a fine Irish blunder; Who can act all the night, and rehearse all the morning, And rant a new part out at half a day's warning: And because many plays are quite lost to our stage, Where a lady should rove in the dress of a page. Wanted also, a lass, who in charms pretty rich is, But has no great objection to wearing the breeches; Our fate-O ye husbands! assist us to soften, You perhaps know some ladies that wear 'em too often. Wanted likewise, a pretty young lad for a lover, Who can sigh like a zephyr, his pangs to discover; Who can kneel, like a camel, to fawn and to flatter; About my size perhaps, only smarter and fatter; To be given in exchange, just to breed up a son with A pretty good parson, who then will be done with. Lost of late, by an actor, some looks and some starts, And balf of the words out of all of his parts. To be bad at this shop-as we'll show you hereafter, Some very good lots of immoderate laughter, To Will Shakespeare consign'd, from Parnass long ago, Inquire in Eastcheap, of Kit Metcalfe and Co. And, if chance any sides of the present good party, Be strained, or be bursten, with laughter too hearty, Or a habit of grinning too strongly con tracted, By seeing fine humour most perfectly acted, On Monday you'll come here again if you're wise, To be cured of your grinning, and cry out your eyes. Farewell, my good masters, and don't be caught napping, 'Tis past seven o'clock, and a fine night for clapping. EPILOGUE TO THE GREEK SLAVE, Altered from Beaumont and Fletcher's Hu mourous Lieutenant, and performed March 21, 1791, for the benefit of Mrs. JORDAN, the epilogue spoken by her; Written by HENRY BUNBURY, esq. HOW strange! methinks, I hear a critic say, What! she-the serious heroine of a play; The manager his want of sense evinces, To pitch on Heydens for the love of princes, To trick out chambermaids in awkward pomp, Horrid! to make a princess of a rompi "Depend upon't," replies indulgent John, "Some damn'd good-natur'd friend has set her on." "Poh !" says old Surly, "I shall now expect To read Ma'mselle a lecture on finance. And frix in ways and means with hard po matum;" Beaux lay down lap-dogs to take up the pen, In grief may shine more eminently bright- success In catching lovers, than a change of dress? Caps, hats, and bonnets, Fashion's pack of hounds, Each in its turn the trembling wretch surrounds; One day you wound him with a civic crown, |