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The human mind is susceptible of influence and impressions in various ways, and from our constitution it happens, that the world of sense supplies these in the greatest abundance. The foundation of all our mental operations is in the perceptions of our senses, and this primary act of the mind, which supplies, as it were, the food, which is afterwards more fully digested by the higher faculties of judgment and reasoning, is not only of more constant, but of more lively operation, than any of the other intellectual processes. We rejoice in the sunshine; we admire the verdure of the earth, or the beauty of the sky, with a vivacity infinitely superior to what is displayed in the mental process, by which we give assent to any moral proposition. God is good who gave us these things to enjoy, man is accountable for titer use he makes of them, are more important propositions to every thinking being—yet how dully do they fall upon the mind compared with the vivacity with which we give ourselves up to sensible impressions. It is not then to be wondered at, that an enquiry into the causes which influence the opinions and character of men, should seldom require us to ascend beyond the sphere of sensible impressions, into those higher regions where judgment hold its sway, and the pure empyrean of intellect is unclouded by the dull fogs and vapours of earthly origin. That there exists such a sun-bright region, we cannot doubt, and though few, indeed, should ever soar so high, it is consoling to believe, that, to the eyes of some highly gifted mortals, and, on rare occasions, are the scales removed which blind common men; that to them it is given to perceive truth in its own effulgent beauty, and • reflect it back on their less gifted brethren, as far as they are able to receive or to value it. But these are the exceptions to the general rule. Men are, for the most part, either governed by their senses, or by judgments immediately founded upon them ; and, anomalous as it may appear, that a spiritual existence should be acted upon by influences so gross, it will require but little illustration to make it evident, that the mind is, in a great measure, formed by causes, which have no affinity or connection with its peculiar powers. These causes are of different kinds, but the effect of all of them is to restrain the free exercise of the intellectual powers, or rather to give a direction and bias to their action. Some of these causes are of almost imperceptible influence, whilst others are more obvious both in their operation and in their effects. Education affords an instance of the one class, and the selfish passions of the other.

Education imperceptibly moulds us by a very varied and effective discipline. Fully to appreciate the effect of those moral stimuli which it furnishes, it will be necessary to extend the usual meaning of the word. We do not mean, by education only, the direct lessons received from parents and teachers, it equally includes the effect produced upon the minds of the young, by the conduct, character and manners of those with whom they associate. The gravity or levity— the social or the solitary habits—the active or the sedentary pursuits—the intellectual or grovelling tastes of those with whom early youth is spent for the most

part, deeply impress similar characters on the child, and, apart from every thing like choice or preference in those who are the objects of such impressions, indelibly affect the mind to an extent which no after discipline can change. It is thus apparent, that, in the first years of life, the seeds of character may have been implanted and the peculiar mental constitution moulded by a most involuntary process. Under Education there must, also, be included, the opportunities afforded in early life, to social intercourse. How warmly do the affections expand in the genial prime of our feelings! The ardent boy knows not of sage caution, or repelling prudence, nor has the gangrene of pride entered into his heart. He delights himself with the unrestrained enjoyment of all the kindly affections. The external scenes in which early life may have been spent, have, also, their influence.

What so likely to give comprehensiveness and grasp to the mind, as accustoming the eye to the sublime magnificence of nature. Will that man conceive feebly, or think meanly, who with a feeling heart has studied her affecting lessons, who has learned beauty from the sunny landscape, strength from the towering mountain, and vastness from the far-sounding sea? There is indeed nothing in the relations in which a man is placed in the world, which does not contribute, in some degree, to give a colour to his mental constitution. The circumstances which produce the most important effects, no doubt, occur in early youth, but the whole procession of events, as they present themselves to the mind, in the ever-shifting panorama of life, may all be included under the influences which arise from education. What so common or so just as to talk of the lessons of the school of adversity, or the giddy intoxication of prosperous fortune? These, and similar expressions, all point to the same conclusion, that the most effective of all teaching, is the teaching of circumstances; and that the mind is most vividly impressed, and its character mainly formed by the concurrence of what, to many, may seem but accidents, but which, to the reflective man, will rather appear the successive links in that chain of causation, which binds alike the movements and destinies of the spiritual and material world. How powerless must any process of education, with all its preceptive maxims, prove, in comparison to the experimental lessons of life. In truth, the character of man is formed, not by teaching, not by impressing his intellect, or by one mind acting on another, by the weapons of truth and reason. The chain of events forms the man, causes insignificant in themselves become all-important; for they enchain the energies of mind, they coutroul its heaven-born powers, and shape its immortal destinies. Nothing more strongly exemplifies the nature of the influence to which we refer, than the thoughtless facility with which religious belief, in all its broad shades of peculiarity, is assumed, as if by hereditary right, all over the world.

The faith of our fathers seems almost a magic name, it has at all events been in most situations a talisman of sufficient power to repress enquiry, and bar innovation. The shades of religious difference, which exist over the world, are more referable to geographical position, than to the enquiries of candour, or the convictions of reasoning. With some honourable exceptions, honourable in proportion as they are rare men are content to receive by inheritance, and take upon trust, the lessons of their faith, and the varying creed of each separate latitude round the world's broad orb has too often been the creed of each successive generation of its inhabitants; each alike convinced of the infallibility of their several dogmas. The weak and impressible minds of children, yield with unsuspecting confidence to the dictates of paternal authority; and on the sublime, and and to them incomprehensible, subject of religion, such dictation produces an effect, which reason, even if afterwards exerted, cannot overcome. Indolence and timidity, in later life, rivet the chains of custom ; and hence it is, that upon no subject have men less exhibited the freedom and energies of mind, than in those very speculations which propose, for their object, to assert its heavenly origin and vindicate its aspiring hopes.

If we are little gratified by an analysis of those more secret causes, which tend to mould imperceptibly our moral constitution, we can expect still less to derive satisfaction from an observation of the effect which the selfish passions of mankind exercise upon their opinions. It would be no easy task to detail in all their extent and complications those various arts of deceit, which selfishness knows to employ, to adorn with more imposing names, or invest with higher characters, her mean and sordid inventions. Perhaps the least flattering to human pride, is the extraordinary manner in which a man at length deceives even himself, as to the motives of his conduct and the sincerity of his principles. The film of selfishness so completely darkens the mental eye, that we at last do not even see our own deformity. The conduct—which in another would bedenounced in the language of strong reprobation—if chargeable against ourselves, is palliated by a thousand mitigating circumstances. A pet name softens down the hard features of a favourite vice, and any quaint or slang expression is sufficient, so far, to take the sting from meanness and dishonour, as atmost to sooth the mind into forgetfulness of the differences between good and evil. To our friends we exercise the same tender mercies. The unworthy conduct, of a father or brother, is judged with a different eye, from that we employ to scan the actions of other men. We overlook or palliate their faults, and we call it filial piety, or fraternal love; but, in the judgment of reason, it is the mind blinded by selfish prejudice. The same measure of forbearance is meted out to the patron who protects, or the partizan who supports, our interests; and, with some other kindly name, we again contrive to conceal the venal motive which shuts our eyes to all their demerits. Political partisanship, in every shape, is the grave of candour and integrity, and opinions, of whatever high pretension, distilled through that alembyc, may well be regarded with suspicion and distrust. In whatever cases men may be disposed to admit the purity of human motives, by general consent, political warfare has been given up, and acknowledged as the chosen arena, where selfish passions, opposing and opposed, meet, in headlong career, and contest the hard-fought field. Alas, for patriotism! it is poorly repaid, by the scoffs and doubts of an ungenerous world; and it is almost consoling to reflect, considering the reward it meets with, that its pretensions are so often hollow.

It is not for nothing that the statesman trims his midnight lamp, his vigils are to be paid by the light of court favour: or the meed of popular applause, and he holds, in suspense, the vibrating balance, doubtful on which side the harvest of personal advantage promises to be richest. Downward, through the whole family of political partisans, the same game is played. High sounding words of lofty pretensions, zeal and loyalty, are upon their tongue; but they have but one motive, and that motive is self. We blame not such conduct, or such motives so long as they consist with fair and hononrable dealing; but it is an abuse of

language, beyond toleration, to hear a system of action so founded and so followed up, honoured with the name of political principles.

There is one exhibition more, of opinions warped by prejudice, which, in some respects, presents the most revolting features of all. When men assume the character of public teachers, and pronounce their deliberate opinions for the benefit of others ; they should, most assuredly, divest themselves of every undue motive. Yet, nothing is more common than to record, with deliberation and solemnity, opinions which reflect every hue and shade of party misrepresentation. We have Tory and Whig histories of England, mutually anxious to relate events in a manner favourable to their peculiar views; we have liberal and servile lawyers, who, from the very same statute will deduce conclusions, opposite in meaning, as they themselves are opposed in sentiments. If there is any baseness most emphatically to be denounced, it is the base attempt to poison the well-head of truth, to pervert the facts of history, to intrude into that sacred repository, where the memory of the men and the deeds of other days is preserved, for the instruction and warning of ages to come, and infusing doubt and suspicions, to colour the grave lessons of the past with the petty passions of the fleeting hour. It is, indeed, most melancholy to reflect, how small a portion of what we receive, in the shape of opinion, can be welcomed with the deference which wisdom and experience should be entitled to demand. But vain is the voice of wisdom, and vain are the lessons of experience, when opposed by selfish prejudices. And these, unfortunately, are inwoven with the constitution of man; all professions and situations in life, alike, attest the melancholy fact, and afford ample confirmations of its truth.

If we have succeeded in any degree in establishing, that the mind is the mere passive recipient of impressions which it cannot controul, it surely is most beseeming that due indulgence be extended, by all thinking men, to these differences of judgment and opinion, arising from the varieties of mental constitution which prevail in the world. If we are the mere creatures of circumstances, if the accidents of our fate have in a great measure nurtured us to good or to evil, how should it disarm the harshness of censure, and awaken our compassionate sympathy for our fellow men. Nor though we must believe that our exertions are most impotent, to form the character or establish the principles of virtue, is it less incumbent upon us to excite the youthful mind, by all those means and appliances which prudence has suggested, and experience approved. We know not the causes which may be in operation, neither can we estimate the effects which they will produce. Sufficient for us to follow the line of duty, according to the light which we possess, nor will this be done with less effect, because we are penetrated with a humbling conviction of the weakness and uncertainty of our best directed efforts.

LITERARY CRITICISM. "Assurance and its Grounds." A Sermon, Preached on Tuesday, 1 .">th March, 1832, at the ordination of the Rev. John Laurie, as Minister of the Church and Parish of Row; with the Charge Addressed to the Minister and the Parishioners. Ry W. Fleming, D.D 1832.

The occasion on which this discourse was delivered, was one of peculiar interest, and it must also have been felt by the clergyman, to be an occasion of peculiar delicacy. There were a hundred ways by which the presiding minister might have placed both himself and his audience in painful and awkward circumstances, and thus have contributed to any thing rather than that desirable result which the minister of the gospel of peace ought, assuredly, at all times, to have in view. A zealous but injudicious preacher would have at once girt on his sword, stepped forward into the arena, and challenged to single combat every supporter of the western opinions; another less bold, but, perhaps, equally injudicious, would have adverted to the miracles

of which so much has been written; whilst a third might have timidly avoided the subject altogether, and thus failed in his duty, both to his God and his hearers. Dr. Fleming has adopted the golden mean, and a more perfect specimen of correct argument, scriptural doctrine, and chastened eloquence, it has not been, for a long time, our good fortune to peruse; it unites christian feeling to sound philosophy, and calmly, yet, firmly, discusses the doctrine of assurance, by addressing the understanding through incontrovertible and scriptural arguments.

There are three texts on which the fabric of Dr. Fleming's discourse is reared,

1. Col. ii. and 2. Assurance of Understanding.

2. Heb. x. and 22. Assurance of Faith.

3. Heb. vi. and 11. Assurance of Hope.

and it commences with certain propositions, to which it is impossible to deny our full and free assent. After a suitable introduction, the Doctor observes:

Assurance is a large and an important subject; but it is only one of many large and important subjects that are handled in the Word of God. And, in looking to that Word, as the rule of our faith and manners, we have no right to fasten upon those passages which relate to Assurance, and to confine our thoughts and attention exclusively to them.

The writer next proceeds to show, that not only that there are three kinds of assurance, but that each kind is supported by evidence distinctly and peculiarly its own; and, having proceeded at considerable length, to establish the truth of these observations, he observes,

The last, and highest kind of assurance, is the assurance of hope, or the persuasion that we, as individuals, are in a state of grace and salvation.

You will see, at once, that this kind of assurance is grounded on the third kind of evidence of which religion admits—the evidence arising from experience. You will see, too, from the nature of the thing, that the assurance of hope comes after the assurance of faith; and that we must attain to the latter before we can attain to the former. The assurance of faith is the firm conviction of the truth and certainty of the things testified in Scripture. The assurance of hope is the joyful persuasion that we are interested in the accomplishment of these things. Faith counts it a true saying, and a saying "worthy of all acceptation, that Christ Jesus came into the world to save sinners." Hope looks for him as " coming the second time, without sin, unto salvation." And if this hope, and the Juti assurance of the same, is in us, it will lead us to look for him, as coming to complete our salvation. But, says the Apostle Peter, (1 Pet. iii. 15.) "Sanctify the Lord God in your hearts, and be ready always to give an answer to every man that asketh you a reason of the hope that is in you, with meekness and fear, having a good conscience." Here you see some of the grounds, or warrants upon which we may rest or cherish this hope—a good conscience and a sanctified heart. The original ground, or warrant, no, doubt, is the Word of God. For it is by faith in God's Word that weeome to this hope ; and without faith we never can come to it. But then God's Word contains no description, nor indication of the individuals who are to be saved, farther than the declaration that 11 they who believe shall be saved." Now, the fact that we believe is not to be learned from the Scriptures, but from the reception which we give to the Scriptures, and from the effects which our reception of them has upon the heart and life. In other words, the evidence that we are in a state of grace and salvation, is not to be gathered from the testimony of the Gopel, which merely proclaims grace and salvation to those who believe; but, from the fact, that we have obeyed the proclamation, and believed the testimony of the Gospel. The fact that we have believed, again, is to be ascertained by our having the fruits of faith in us; and among these fruits, a good conscience and a sanctified heart are the most prominent and important.

Belief, being the act or exercise of an intelligent being, may no doubt be accompanied with consciousness; and, from the moment that a man believes, he may, it has been thought, be sensible, or conscious that he does so: hence, saith the Scripture, "He that believeth hath the witness in himself." It has been questioned, however, whether this witnessing of our own spirit—this testimony of our own consciousuess, is, by itself, a good and sufficient warrant to cherish the assurance of hope. But the dispute is scarcely worth the entering on, because, you will observe, it is in the nature of things impossible that his own consciousness should, for any perceptible length of time, be the only evidence that a man has of his being a believer. If he indeed believes, his faith will manifest itself by its fruits; for faith is uniformly spoken of in Scripture as a principle that is powerful and extensive in its operations. It is the very fountain-head from which descend those living streams which cheer and fructify the dry and barren land, and nourish those green spots which refresh, by their loveliness, the hard bosom of this world's wilderness. It is the source of those heavenly influences, which gladden the dark heart of man

—cause his desert soul to rejoice and blossom as the rose

strengthen his weak hands—confirm his feeble knees—cause his face to shine as with the oil of joy, and make his whole path through life healthful and fragrant. In a word, "Faith purifieth the heart—overcometh the world—worketh by love, and is full of mercy and of good fruits." Now, if these good fruits are produced, the existence and exercise of faith may be safely inferred; and if they are not produced, the weakness or want of faith may be as surely inferred; "For, in Christ Jesus, neither circumcision availeth any thing, nor uncircumcision, but a new creature;"—" And as many as walk according to this rule, peace be on them and mercy; and upon the Israel of God." Now, if we are walking according to this rule of the apostle, that is, if we are become new creatures, then we are warranted to take to ourselves the blessing of the apostle, and to hope that peace shall be on us and mercy. If we see, and can satisfy ourselves that we are following hard after Christ; that we are learning of Him who was meek and lowly in heart; that we are denying ourselves to all ungodliness, separating ourselves from all sinners, delighting ourselves in God's law, and rejoicing to do God's will; then we may conclude that we are in the faith of God's Word, and consequently in the way of grace and salvation: and, by "showing the same diligence," and following the same path with those who through faith and patience have inherited the promises, we also may rise to the full assurance of hope, that we shall obtain the end of our faith, "even the salvation of our souls." Nay, in proportion as we proceed "to put off the old man which is corrupt, and to put on the new man, which after God is created in righteousness and true holiness"—we are not left merely to argue, or infer that we are in the way of inheriting the blessing, for "the Spirit may witness with our spirits that we are the children of God—and if children, then heirs—heirs of God, and joint heirs with Christ." It is to be observed, however, that the Spirit witnesseth nothing beyond what is contained in the Word of God. Now, as that Word contains no express or positive declaration that we, individually, shall be saved, the Spirit bears no direct testimony to this point.


Deep thunder In the cloud,

Fierce lightning in the sky; The Prophet's soul, wrapp'd in a shroud,

Of fearful mystery.
Near the hill cliff he lay,

He saw approaching woe;
In vision saw a proud array,
Of warriors press along the way,

That clasp'd the hill below.

• • • •

In the wild lightning's gleam

Their steel-girt helmets glance— They pass—they pass the mountain stream,

They urge their proud advance.
The wolf is frirflhen'd from his lair,

The eagle, from her nest;
For banners, proud, are waving there,

Where foot hath never press'd. "Come down, thou man of God,"

The fearless warriors cry, "Leave—leave that stern abode,

That rock-bound canopy."

The prophet, from his holy dream,

A moment's space awoke;
He saw the glittering lances gleam,

Aud thus, in wrath, he spoke,
"Since, seer of God, thou deemest me,
Blasted by God's own lightnings be."

• • • •

Each crevice of the rock,

Sent forth the horrid fire; Before its death-born shock

In vain the troops retire; The flames consume yon rich array, "l is gone, like hopes of life's young day!

• • • •

Warriors ascend the hill,

The lengthening pennons wave;
They pass—they pass, the mountain rill,

March they to find a grave?
No! hear their leader humbly pray,

"Thou man of God, forgive,
Oh! bid the dreadful lightnings stay,

And bid thy servants live. We own the power of Israel's God, Whose thunder's guard thy dread abode!"

An angel from on high

Bade Israel's prophet go—
A ray of peace illum'd the sky,

He sought the plain below—
He wraps his sacred mantle round,
He leaves the consecrated ground!


THE EARL OF BIUDGEWATER'8 BEQUEST. Those of our readers, who combine the study of natural, with that of revealed theology, will be gratified by the following statement, the particulars of which, many of them may not yet be acquainted with :—

The Rev. the Earl of Bridgewater beqeathed, in 1815, the sum of eight thousand pounds to some person or persons, who should be nominated, by the President of the Royal Society, to write, print and publish, "a thousand copies of a work on the power, wisdom, and goodness of God, as manifested in the creation: illustrating such work by all reasonable arguments, as, for instance, the variety and formation of God's creatures in the animal, vegetable, and mineral kingdoms; the effect of digestion, and thereby of conversion, the construction of the hand of man, and an infinite variety of other arguments; as, also, by discoveries, ancient and modern, in arts, sciences and the whole extent of literature." And he desired, that the profits arising from the sale of that work should be paid as a farther remuneration to the person or persons so employed; with power to advance the sum of £800 during the writing and printing of the said work. The Earl died in 1829, and in the following year, his trustees invested the sum of £8000 in the 3 per cent, consols.

The late President of the Royal Society, Mr. Davies Gilbert, anxious to discharge his task in an adequate manner, obtained the consent of the Archbishop of Canterbury and the Bishop of London to share it with him; and, after much deliberation, the work has been placed in the hands of the following eight gentlemen :—

The Rev. William Whewell, M. A. F. R.S. Professor of Mineralogy in the University of Cambridge.

The Rev. Thomas Chalmers, Professor of Divinity in Edinburgh.

John Kidd, Esq. M.D. F.R.S. Regius Professor of Medicine in the University of Oxford.

The Rev. William Buckland, D.D. F.R.S. Professor of Geology in the University of Oxford.

Peter Mark Roget, Esq. M.P. Sec R.S.

Charles Bell, Esq. F.R.S. Surgeon.

The Rev. William Kirby, M.A. F.R.S.

William Prout, Esq. M.D. F.R.S. Each being pledged to take a part, as designated by the testators, most adapted to his acquirements and pursuits: and thus it is confidently expected, that a work entrusted to such individuals, will appear, as a whole, worthy of the age and country about to give it birth.

We understand that the Sermon "on the Nature and Design of God's Judgments," preached by the Rev. John Roxburgh, M. A. in St. David's Church, Glasgow, on the National Fast, will be published in a few days. This discourse is printed in consequence of the earnest solicitation of the Congregatiou of St. David's.



The Exhibition of the Royal Academy is expected to be very splendid this season; each of the members, it is said, will send their full allowance of works, and we have heard it avowed, that portraits will be less numerous than formerly. Wilkie will be in great force, both with historical and domestic pictures. Turner, though he has given much of his time to the magnificent scenery of the poems of Sir Walter Scott, has some works of a poetic stamp, ready to meet the landscapes of his rival Callcott; the President has some excellent portraits—so has Phillips, so has Pickersgill ■ Etty, Allan, Howard, Collins, Jones, Hilton, and others, who support the attractions of the Exhibition annually, will in some cases excel their former efforts. Nor will the sculpture be otherwise than worthy of the paintings. We are, indeed, glad to hear, that so many noble works are ready for the eye of the world. Art is by no means a very remunerating pursuit, aud for the last twelve months it has been sadly depressed; but the nightmare will soon, we hope, cease to press upon it, and public feeling, flowing in a natural channel, will sooth and encourage it in producing works worthy of the country.


The composer to the Chapel Royal has always the task i to him of composing a piece for the Coronation of our Soverignw, and no native musician is better qualified to perform it well than Mr. Attwood. The anthem performed at the Coronation of his present Majesty is entitled,11 O Lord, grant the King a long Life." The introductory Maestoso is for the band alone, and consists of thirty-five bars, on a bold subject, which, on repetition, is accompanied with the national air, " Rule Britannia," played by horns and trumpets. It is very ingeniously interwoven with the other parts, on the plan of the Anthem composed for the Coronation of George the Fourth, wherein 11 God Save the King" was similarly treated. This is followed by a Moderato in common time. This movement contains a great variety of pure modern counterpoint, and the parts flow most pleasantly: the wind-instruments are written for in the style of Mozart, our author's instructor; and the tout ensemble promises to be a very effective composition in a cathedral. The anthem concludes with an "Amen" chorus—a fine fugue, worked with considerable talent, the subject beginning with the bass voices, is taken up at the fifth bar by the tenor and trebles successively: it is relieved by modulations in the modern school, which Mr. Attwood seems perfectly master of.


"The Foreground," in an early number. 11 Jaqucs" under consideration. •

Sonnet by "A Constant Reader,'' will be placed in the hands of the poetical critic. We thank " W. H."

We are under many obligations to the "Whole Alphabet."

1 lOR a Short Time only. — Patronized by his Royal Ilighm-s, JO the Duke of Gloucester—MONSIEUR EDOUART, Silbouettiste of the French Royal Family, No. 149, Queen Street, respectfully informs the Nobility and Gentry, that he will remain a few days longer in Glasgow, in consequence of his inability to execute the numerous orders he has received since he announced his departure. Owing to the fatal disease which now prevails in the city, and which carries off its victims with such rapidity, the Silhouettes of Moiis. Edouart have already, in some cases, been found to remain as the only faithful memorials of beloved frieuds aud relatives.

Mr. E. begs to observe, that no Likeness of any Gentleman is exhibited without his consent ; and that the Likenesses of Ladies are never exhibited iu his Show-Room, or Duplicates sold, without the consent of the parties.

Full length standing, 6s. Ditto sitting, 7s. Children under Eight Years, 3s. Cd. Duplicates of the Shilhouettes, full-length, 3s. Ditto sitting, 4s. Ditto Children, 2s. Gd.

Family Groups taken at their residences, on the same terms, any time after 6 o'clock in the evening.

O LET,—TWO LODGINGS in MAXWELTON PLACE and ONE in KINGSTON PLACE, consisting of Dining Room, Drawing Room, Three Bed-Rooms, Laundry, Servants' Room, Cellarage and Kitchen, with Bleaching Green and Flower Plot.

Attached to one of the Lodgings is an excellent Coach House. Two Stalled Stable, and Dog Kennel. Apply at No. 4, Maxwelton Place.

ry\0 SELL or LET, Furnished or Unfurnished, the VILLA JL of GARHALLOW LODGE, near Dunoon, ArctliShire. The HOUSE consists of Dining Room, Drawing Room, Five Bed Rooms, Kitchen Pantries, Scullery, Store Room, Cellar, and Two Rooms for Servants—an abundant supply of excellent water. Offices consist of Stable, Coal House, and other conveniences.

The Grounds extend to somewhat more than One and a Half Scotch Acres, consisting of Shrubbery, Romantic Wooded Banks, with a productive walled Garden, and about two Roods of excellent Pasturage.

The House was recently built, and since occupied by the Proprietor—is perfectly dry, free from smoke, completely furnished, and every way adapted for the Residence of a Genteel Family, most conveniently situated for Sea Bathing, and commands one of the finest and most extensive views on the Frith of Clyde.

For further particulars, apply to the Proprietor at the House; or to Messrs. Graham, House Agents, 90, Argyle Street, Glasgow.

Published, every Morning, Sunday excepted, by John Finlay, at No. 9, Miller Street; and Sold by John Wylie, 97, Argyle Street; David Robertson, and W. R. M'phun, Glasgow, Thomas Stevenson, and the other Booksellers, Edinburgh: UaVid Dick, and A. Gardner, Booksellers, Paisley .- A. Laino, Greenock; and J. Glass, Bookseller, Rotlisay.







Chlorine has long been famed for its anti-contagious powers. The nature of infectious diseases admits, with difficulty, of these powers being made the subject of direct experiment upon them; but there is abundant proof of its effect in purifying air, loaded with the most loathsome effluvia, from the decay of animal or vegetable matter. M. Orfila, having occasion to examine the body of a man supposed to have been poisoned, and who had been nearly a month dead, found the smell almost insupportable. He was induced to try the effect of chloride of lime, and had scarcely sprinkled over the body, when the unpleasant smell was entirely destroyed, and the operation proceeded in, with comparative comfort.

Attempts, also, have not been wanting, to bring direct proof of the value of chlorine, in destroying pestilential miasmata. In the year 1829, a French medical expedition was sent to Egypt and Syria, under the direction of M. Parisot; the object of which, was to ascertain the cause of plague, and the effect of chlorides in staying its progress. Not finding the disease in Egypt, M. Parisot and his five colleagues proceeded to Tripoli, where 20 to 25 persons were dying of it, daily. When there, six shirts and six pairs of drawers, in which persons had recently died of the plague, were brought to them. The clothes were foul with diseased matter, and of a detestable odour. They were steeped 16 hours in a solution of chloride of lime, (3 lbs. to 50 gallons of water,) then wrung out and dried in the sun. Each of the medical men took a shirt and a pair of drawers, and wore them for 18 hours, next the skin. M. Parisot wrote, after three weeks, that the health of his party was unimpaired.

The chain of evidence here, is not altogether complete; but in a subject of such difficulty and danger, we must be content to receive it, in connection with what we know of the changes produced by chlorine, upon matters which are perceptible to our senses.

Chloride of lime, (the bleaching powder of Messrs. Tennant) is now much used as a substitute for free chlorine, and it is, in many cases, of more convenient application. The solution is sprinkled upon the floors of infected places, and clothes supposed to be imbued with pestilential matter are steeped in it. Chloride of lime, however, not being volatile, can excite no purifying power upon substances with which it is not in immediate contact, and the quantity of chlorine, set free from it by the air, is too slight to deserve attention.

To produce complete fumigation, therefore, we must resort to means by which the chlorine gas can be evolved instantly, and in considerable quantities. There are various ways by which this may be done. After the experience of regularly fumigating 300 work people's houses, we have fixed upon the following as being the cheapest, as well as the most effectual and convenient:

Mix, in a common bowl or small basin,

1 Ounce of Powdered Manganese, with

2 Ounces of Spirit of Salt.

Chlorine gas begins to be given off immediately, and if the room be not wanted for some hours, the doors are closed, and the action allowed to go on; but, where

one apartment constitutes the house, it is more convenient to heat the mixture, by throwing into it a few cinders from the fire place. Large quantities of chlorine and muriatic acid are thus given off at once, which soon penetrate into every part of the room. In one hour, fresh air may be admitted, to render the house habitable, with the certainty that every thing which has been exposed is purified of its disagreeable smell, and, as far as chlorine will do it, of its pestilential matter. If, however, the house and its furniture have not been previously clean, the filth will soon.begin again to be offensive, and to' encourage pestilence.

In good houses, where alarm has been occasioned by disease appearing in the neighbourhood, and where there is no suspicion of the previous existence of infectious matter, it is better to keep up, constantly, such a slight smell of chlorine, as will neither inconvenience the inmates, nor injure the furniture, than to give the strong and passing dose already described. For this purpose, dilute

4 Ounces of Spirit of Salt, with
4 Ounces of Water, and then add
2 Ounces of Manganese.

In a few minutes, the smell of chlorine appears, in quantity sufficient to impregnate the air of a room, or even of several contiguous rooms, if the doors are left open to admit it. At the end of 24 hours, chlorine will continue to be given off, by stirring the mixture, but the duration and intensity of the smell are easily regulated, by the quantity of water that is employed. If the supposed danger continues, the dose may be renewed when the chlorine ceases to be given off.

The expense of the materials, when they can be bought at wholesale prices, is altogether trifling. Manganese at 8s. or 10s. a cwt. and spirit of salt at l£d. per lb. makes a fumigating dose to cost one farthing.

We must not be understood to encourage the idea, that a single case of cholera, in one of our open streets, can so far impregnate the air, as to endanger the health of persons residing in a different house; and, it is rather with a view to inspire confidence, than to excite alarm, that we offer the information contained in our present paper. That cholera does affect the air has been very distinctly shown off the Coasts of Ceylon and the Mauritius. The miasma of marshes acts in this way; and that of Walcheren extended to vessels riding at anchor, fully a quarter of a mile from the shore. The alarm arises from a want of attention to the very different amount of poisonous matter exposed to the action of the air.


Views or The Opening Of The Glasgow And Gaeneikk RailWay, By D. O. Hill, Esq. S.A. and A.R.I. Also, an Account of that and other Railways in Lanarkshire. Drawn up by George Buchanan, Esq. Civil Engineer, Edinburgh. 1832.

Pris rather a novelty to treat of steam locomotion, under a head which is usually confined to the creations of fancy ; but the fact is, that the work which we have announced under the above title, is one that may well claim a place beside others of greater pretension, whether they may be the productions of the pencil or the pen. The most striking attraction which it presents to the

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