From the Monthly Nurse we subjoin a few brief excerpta :—

"The Monthly Nurse-taking the class in the lump, without such exceptions as will be noticed before we conclude--is a middle-aged, motherly sort of a gossoping, hushing, flattering, dictatorial, knowing, ignorant, not very delicate, comfortable, uneasy, slip-slop kind of a blinking individual, between asleep and awake, whose business it is-under Providence and the doctor -to see that a child be not ushered with too little officiousness into the world, nor brought up with too much good sense during the first

month of its existence."

Her qualities:

"She is the only maker of caudle in the world. She takes snuff ostentatiously, drams advisedly, tea incessantly, advice indignantly, a nap when she can get it, cold whenever there is a crick in the door, and the remainder of whatsoever her mistress leaves to eat or drink, provided it is what somebody else would like to have." * "She has not the

*

*

relish for a 'bit o' dinner' that the servantmaid has; though nobody but the washerwoman beats her at a dish o' tea,' or at that which 'keeps cold out of the stomach,' and puts weakness into it. If she is thin, she is generally straight as a stick, being of a condition of body that not even drams will tumefy. If she is fat, she is one of the fubsiest of the cosy; though rheumatic withal, and requiring a complexional good-nature to settle the irritabilities of her position, and turn the balance in favour of comfort or hope."

Consolations and enjoyments :

(as she tells him) can never be too grateful for her bearing such troubles on his account;' or as a Frenchified conceited madam, who will turn out a deplorable match for the poor gentlemen, and assuredly be the death of the baby with her tantrums about natural living,' and her blasphemies against rum, pieces of fat, and Daffy's Elixir. The gentleman in like manner-or master,' as the humbler ones call him—is, accordingly as he behaves himself, and receives her revelations for gospel, a 'sweet good man'

quite a gentleman — just the very model of a husband for mistress,' &c. &c.; or, on the other hand, he is a very strange gentleman''quite an oddity-one that is not to be taught his own good-that will "neither be led nor druv'—that will be the death of the mistress with his constant fidge-fidge in and out of the room-and his making her laugh in that dreadful manner,' and so forth;—and, as to his pretending to hold the baby, it is like a cow with a candlestick.""

6

Likes and dislikes of the doctor :

beautiful doctor,' except perhaps Sir William, or
"If she likes him, there never was such a
Doctor Buttermouth (both dead), and always
excepting the one that recommended herself.
He is a fine man'-so patient-so without
pride and yet so firm, like;' nobody comes
near him for a difficult case for a fever case—
dislikes him, he is 'queer '-' odd ’
for the management of a 'violent lady.' If she
stubborn'
-has the 'new ways,'-very proper, she has no
doubt, but not what she had been used to, or
seen practised by the doctors about court."
The duration of her reign:
"The Dieu et Mon Droit of her escutcheon

:

always at hand, like a sceptre, wherewith to as-
sert her privileges, and put down objection.
During the month,' the lady is not to read a
book. During the month,' nobody is to lay a
finger on the bed for the purpose of making it,
till her decree goes forth. During the month,'
the muffle of the knocker is at her disposal."
The husband :-
:-

"Her greatest consolation under a death (next to the corner-cupboard, and the not hav-is 'During the month.' This phrase she has ing had her advice taken about a piece of flannel) is the handsomeness of the corpse; and her greatest pleasure in life, is when lady and bady are both gone to sleep, the fire bright, the kettle boiling, and her corns quiescent. She then first takes a pinch of snuff, by way of pungent anticipation of bliss, or as a sort of concentrated essence of satisfaction; then a glass of spiritsthen puts the water in the tea-pot-then takes another glass of spirits (the last having been a small one, and the coming tea affording a 'counteraction') - then smoothes down her apron, adjusts herself in her arm-chair, pours out the first cup of tea, and sits for a minute or two staring at the fire, with the solid complacency of an owl,—perhaps not without something of his snore, between wheeze and snuffbox."

Estimation of character :-
:-

"Her first endeavour, when she comes into a house, is to see how far she can establish an undisputed authority on all points. In proportion to her success or otherwise in this object, she looks upon the lady as a charming, reasonable, fine, weak, cheatable creature, whose husband

'During the month,' the husband is to be nobody, except as far as she thinks fit, not even (for the first week or so) to his putting his head in at the door. You would take him to be the last man who had any thing to do with the business. However, for her own sake, she generally contrives to condescend to become friends with him, and he is then received into high favour-is invited to tea with his wife, at some unusually early' period; and Nurse makes a bit of buttered toast for 'master' with her own hand, and not only repeats that baby is as like him as two peas' (which it always is, the moment it is born, if the lady's inclination is supposed to set that way), but tells him that she fears he is a sad charming gentleman,' for that 'mistress talks of him in her sleep.""

Babies :

"The babies are always kings and queens, loves, darlings, jewels, and poppets. Beauties also, to be sure :-and as all babies are beautiful, and the last always more beautiful than the one before it, and the child is father to the man,' mankind, according to Nurse, ought to be nothing but a multitude of Venuses and Adonises; aldermen should be mere Cupids full grown; and the passengers in Fleet Street, male and female, slay one another, as they go, with the unbearableness of their respective charms."

"By the time the baby arrives at the robustness of a fortnight old, and appears to begin to smack its lips, it is manifestly the most ill-used of infant elegancies, if a series of random hits are not made at its mouth and cheeks with a piece of the fat of pig; and, when it is sleepy and yet will not go to sleep' (which is a phenomenon usually developed about the time that Nurse wants her tea), or when it is fractious' for not having had enough pig, or from something else which has been counteracted, or anything but the sly sup of gin lately given it, or the pin which is now running into its back, it is equally clear, that if Daffy, or Godfrey, or rocking the chair, will not do, a perpetual thumping of the back, and jolting of its very soul out, will; and, accordingly, there lies the future lord or lady of the creation, prostrate across the nurse's knees, a lump in a laced cap and interminable clothes, getting redder and redder in the face, ejaculating such agonies between grunt and shout as each simultaneous thump will permit, and secretly saluted by its holder with brats,' and 'drat it,' and 'was there ever such an 'obstropulous' little devil!' while her lips are loud in deprecation of the naughty milk, or the naughty cot' which is to be beaten for its ill-behaviour); and 'Dordie' (Georgy) is told to 'go' to a mysterious place, called 'Bye-Bye;' or the whole catechism of nursery interrogation is gone through, from the past tenses of the amenities of Was it a poppet then?' and 'Did it break its pretty heart? up to the future glories of Shall it be a King then?' Shall it be a King Pepin?' 'Shall it be a Princywinchy?' a Countess?' a 'Duchess?' 'Shall it break the fine gentlemen's hearts with those beautiful blue eyes?' In the midst of tragicomic burlesque of this sort, have risen upon the world its future Marses and Apollos, its Napoleons, its Platos, and its Shakspeares."

6

By this time we think even our unmarried readers may have acquired some notion of the "sort of animal" that may be expected to present itself under the designation of a "Monthly

Nurse."

As a piece of broad-very broad-burlesque, Jerrold's delineation of Mr. Redbreast, the Auctioneer, is sufficiently forcible. We wait for the conclusion of Mr. Whitehead's "Tavern Heads;"

the Landlady, and the Parlour Orator, to be kins, the Parlour Maid, and Thomas Trotter, the followed, we are led to expect, by Susan HawPot Boy.

Domestic Homœopathy. By P. F. Curie, M. D. Formerly Surgeon in the Military Hospital of Paris; Member of the Parisian Homœopathic and Gallican Societies; Physican to the Dispensary; Author of "The Principles of Homœopathy;" "The Practice of Homœopathy," &c. 18mo. Hurst. 1839.

WE have seen much, heard much, read much, and we know much relating to Homoeopathy-to the science which, in opposition to Allopathy, assumes for its motto and leading principle, the words Similia similibus curantur, or like will cure like; and it is not improbable that, at a future period, we may feel disposed to institute an inquiry into its origin, nature, and mode of operation. It is one of those subjects upon which many persons, even of the medical profession, frequently talk" an infinite deal of nothing,' without understanding it-without having possessed themselves of its simplest elements. We profess ourselves to be of the old school in most things, consequently, not great admirers of innovation; yet we hold it to be the bounden duty of every professional man to make himself master of whatever new theory may present itself, so far at least as to be enabled to judge of its soundness or unsoundness, its probable advantages and disadvantages. If novelty were invariably to be rejected on the ground of its being new, what progress would science ever be able to make? Why, instead of being convinced, with Copernicus and Sir Isaac Newton, that the earth has an annual motion and a diurnal motion, we should still be grovelling in the dark, taking it for granted, that we are inhabitants of a fixed plane, and that the sun, moon, and stars perform their wondrous evolutions simply for our benefit and amusement. It was not thus that Copernicus, Galilei, and Newton, thought, reasoned, and acted; nor was it thus that Hippocrates and Galen studied and practised medicine. It is recorded that when Dr. Harvey discovered the circulation of the blood-a discovery which Sir Thomas Browne justly regarded as of more importance than that of the New World-not a single medical man of the time, who had passed the age of 40, condescended to accept the theory! Oh, ye pseudo "lovers of truth for the truth's sake," what a feather this was in your caps! Now, though-fortunately or unfortunately-we hapwould not, like Dr. Harvey's sage and liberal pen to be somewhat past the age of 40, we contemporaries, reject, unheard or unexamined, or until proved to be false, any discovery or theory that might be advanced by a man of science. On this principle, we hope to see Homœopathy subjected to the closest and severest scrutiny; and, so far as our present opinion stands, we

are not of the belief that it will be weighed cal aid, we cannot describe its object better than in the balance, and found wanting."

urge against this science; with these in array against us, I will say, examine; and by the reresult of that examination-if conducted with an honest and truth-loving spirit—we are will-sident beyond the ready access of medical assisting to be judged."

thirty years in the venerable mansion at Weston, | ler, which want may need, but cannot reach, Sir John died in the month of January, 1819; but through Him "who feedeth the young and, being without issue, was succeeded in his ravens that call upon him." Cowper speaks of title and hereditary property by George, his Sir George, and his "responsive Catherina," second brother; who, like his immediate pre- thus :decessor, fixed himself in this revered place of his birth; though he possessed several fine old Halls on his Estates in Warwickshire and Worcestershire; and a stately modern one in Oxfordshire, built by his grandfather, (the fifth Sir Robert of the name,) who had travelled in youth, and was famed for his taste in pictures and

classic architecture.

Sir George did not fall behind his virtuoso progenitor in these accomplishments; neither in the still more important patriotic qualities bequeathed to him by sires and brother. And in all he was most diligently seconded by his excellent lady, whose recent lamented death is the text of our theme.

She was the daughter and heiress of the Stapletons of Carlton, in Yorkshire; (an old Catholic descent, loyal to their king, as faithful to their Church); and the "fair Catherine," having been a frequent visitor at Weston before her marriage, became, both as maid and wife, the admired subject of Cowper's verses. Possessing a voice of uncommon melody, she often set them to music, and sang them to him; an honour, which he celebrates thus:

"My numbers, this day she hath sung! And gave them a grace so divine,

As only her musical tongue

Could infuse into numbers like mine.

The longer I heard, I esteemed

The work of my fancy the more,
And e'en to myself never seemed
So tuneful a poet before!
Since then, in the rural recess
Catherina alone can rejoice,
May it still be her lot to possess
The scene of her sensible choice!
To inhabit a mansion, remote

From the clatter of street-pacing steeds;
And by Philomel's annual note,

To measure the life that she leads!
With her book, and her voice, and her lyre,
To wing all her moments at home;
And with scenes that new rapture inspire,
As oft as it suits her to roam;
She will have just the life she prefers,
With little to wish or to fear;
And ours will be pleasant as her's,

"Graceful and gracious, in all they did!

Blessing and blest, where'er they moved!"

Sir George died in the summer of 1826, fuller of virtues than of years, and was buried at Weston. On this bereavement, his widow retired to a house of her own in Northampton, where she spent the residue of her pious and ever useful life, beloved and revered. Her own death taking place this year, she has thus survived her lamented husband nearly fourteen years; and now, re-united in the grave, (or rather beyond it!) their honoured remains

up one monument!"

fill

Having left no offspring, Charles, the third brother of the two preceding Baronets, became the lineal successor; inheriting their urbane characters with the honours and property of his race. He likewise claimed connection with the memory of the bard of his "natal domain !” For, while merely a younger brother, Sir Charles had often visited his native Weston; and being of a meditative mind, and an ardent lover of the beautiful and the sublime in nature, he esteemed the muse, and gained the friendship of the 'poet of nature, and of nature's God!"

66

Cowper is no more! and "the Hall, and its Tenants," of which he sang, are no more! But the storied wood-walks and the animated groves his genius consecrated, yet remain. There, the pedestals, and the votive tablets, raised and sculptured at the poet's wish, are still preserved from the spoiling hand of time, or of schoolboy's predatory violence, by the affectionate reverence of Sir Charles Throckmorton.

On the decease of Sir George, it had been deemed necessary that the old house itself, being much decayed, should be pulled down. It was done. But the gifted beings who had inhabited there, yet abide in spirit in its meads and and still more, in the cherishing groves; cares of their present venerable representative. He came himself to Coughton Court, an ancient castellated mansion of his family's, in Warwickshire; of an equally old date with that of Weston, in Bucks, (both having been heir-looms since the reign of Henry VI.) but being of greater stability in its structure, he resolved to redeem it from the sort of waste, which deserMight we view her.enjoying it here!" tion of it as a place of residence for nearly a century, had contracted around it. This, by This invoked happiness, the poet did enjoy indefatigable exertions, he promptly effected. to nearly his latest breath. He was a constant And, having since been upwards of a dozen guest at the table of Sir George, and by his years his constantly inhabited possession, it now evening hearth; and not less often the com- stands amidst its fertile fields; no longer a panion of his lady, in her summer or her winter crumbling ruin, nor an embattled stronghold walks. In the latter, not seldom witnessing against foreign or domestic disturbers of the with her the doling out from the bounteous peace; but " a Tower of Strength!" "like a hall, those comforts to the families of the labour- lodge in a garden of fruits," for spade and ing poor, and to the destitute way-faring travel-plough-holders to rally under-the poor man's

Q