CHO

HOLERA.-We have now the poison of Chloroform as a Veure for cholera. Pray what becomes of the laudanum ordered by the Board of Health? Is that poison to be superseded by chloroform? Where is this all to end— was there ever such a jumble of absurdities? And was there ever such an infamous cheat upon the public? Surely, it does not require extraordinary sagacity to see that all these dangerous poisons are prescribed in order to put guineas into doctor's pockets (the guinea trade), Simple medicines which the people might take and thus cure themselves don't suit our doctors' books. No, no; they require poisons which require care not to poison yourself with them, and it must have been observed how regularly and cautiously this is enjoined with all the new-fangled specifics which are brought out by doctors for cholera, "Oh, yes, take great care how you use it-pay me my guinea and I'll tell you"--this is the guinea trade, but is it possible that government can have their eyes shut to such a miserable cheat? Surely not. If they support doctors any longer in this, they will be accessory to their misdeeds; and the judgment of God be upon them.

Letter from Mr. James Hibbert, Hygeist, Manchester, Member of the British College of Health, New Road, London.

To Messrs. Morison, British College of Health, London.

36, Oldham Street, Manchester, October 11, 1848. Gentlemen,-I thank you for the copies of the Daily News, containing your protest against the greater portion of "the Regulations of the Board of Health," so called, such as the use of brandy and peppermint, together with the usual narcotic drugs, laudanum and other opiates; remedies, if such they must be called, more calculated to produce disease than to cure it. I am of the same opinion with you and the other members of the British College of Health, that all that is necessary to be attended to as a preventive against either cholera, fever, or against disease in any other shape, is— 1st, To cleanse well the stomach and bowels, by proper vegetable medicines only. 2nd. To cleanse frequently the skin from perspirable matter, either by washing or sponging, in warm or cold bath, as may be preferred. 3rd. To cleanse well in and about our dwellings, by the removal of all noisome and putrescent matter. 4th. To eat and drink moderately of the rich bounties of the good providence of God. The foregoing may be summed up in the words of Professor Boerhaave, "Keep the head cool, the feet warm, and the bowels clear, and you may laguh at all the doctors." I am truly glad that you are presenting before the British public a few of the facts, yea living facts, of the efficacy of your invaluable medicine, at a time like the present, when alarms are beginning to spread respecting the cholera. I feel confident of their efficacy in removing any kind of disease, if persevered in, having witnessed the effects in my own family and in hundreds of other cases. I am happy to inform you that I have appointed another agent near the parsonage belonging to our excellent friend, the Rev. A. Hewlett, whose honest testimony in favour of your invaluable medicines has induced many to make trial of them. "Truth is mighty and will prevail," and though all the world should be against me, with truth on my side, I fear not: depend upon it the principles of your late reverend father will ultimately triumph over the present decaying system propped up by doctors and medical boards of health. Yours, very respectfully, James Hibbert, Hygeist.

Who are the Members of the British College of Health? For the edification of the doctors who write in the Weekly Dispatch about Morison's Pills, we beg to inform them that the members of the British College of Health number about 800 persons who are firm believers, from practical experience on themselves, in the theory of James Morison, the Hygeist, and, therefore, very different from the Members of the Royal College of Physicians, who practise everything from Mesmerism down to Homopathy, who insert the filthy advertisements in the newspapers, and who only agree in abstracting fees (the guinea trade) from the pockets of their poor deluded victims, the public. It is a perfect farce to call the College of Physicians a 'college'-it is a college of discord if you please, whereas, in the British College of Health of Hygeists nothing but unanimity reigns. Let the doctors of the Dispatch disprove this if they can.

It is the £115,000 paid by Mr. Morison for stamps that tickles the doctors of the Dispatch-they look up in it as so many fees out of their own pockets.

TO CORRESPONDENTS.

We have received communications from "Timothy Penwipe," &c.

If " Mephistophiles" will forward the sketches to which he alludes, they shall receive immediate attention.

Our Torrington correspondent is thanked.

"Sketches of Babylon” have duly come to hand, though too late for further notice this month.

"W. W." will receive a private note.

C. S. L." is informed that we cannot entertain his proposition. Under any other cumstances we shall be happy to give his communication due attention.

HOOD'S MAGAZINE.

THE TIMES; OR, MODERN PHILOSOPHY.

A NOVEL.

BY THE EDITOR

CHAPTER XXVI.

"THE MISER AND HIS DAUGHTER.

"You are like your mother-nothing but dress-dressdress! She would have ruined me long ago; brought me to beggary or the workhouse-but that she died! She cost me fifty pounds for dress in the ten years we were married-fifty pounds-and the interest, too, for so many years! it would have been now five hundred ! What do clothes cost me? I have this brown coat five years; bought in Rosemary Lane for ten shillings, and expect to get five for it when I have done with it in a year or two more! I get a hat from the Jews for eighteenpence; that lasts me three years; and but for shoes, which one must wear-and wear out too-I could clothe myself for a sovereign a-year! No, no!-no more money! I can't afford it. The funds are down 20 per cent.; 'tis enough to break one's heart!-where will they stop? I shall be robbed-robbed of all I have!-and you don't care-you must have money-but you shan't-I shan't give you any

י !

Such was the reply given by Quelch the miser to his daughter Marianne, as they sat at breakfast together, in their parlour at Islington, on her application to him for a few shillings for clothes.

"Well, father," replied Marianne Quelch, "I am sorry I asked you for any. I can do without it. I can turn this gown once more, and it will look new again."

The miser hesitated-gazed on his child for a moment; he could not speak; a tear filled his eye; it stole over the lid—

JANUARY, 1849.-No. I. VOL. XI.

B

trickled over his cheek, and fell to earth, but rose again to Heaven!

After a moment's pause, he said

"You are like your mother-too like! I thought I loved nothing on earth but gold, but I love her still-and you too, Marianne-my child-my only one! And you shall have money, anything, everything you want, when the funds rise! But not now, Marianne, to-morrow, or next week, perhaps, or next month!-soon, soon!-I hope when the funds rise, but they are falling every day! Not now, Marianne, not now! Soon, soon, I hope! The times will mend; the funds will rise, and then you shall have plenty !"

"Whenever you please, father; but you are not eating your breakfast. Your egg is nearly cold, and your ́toast un

finished."

"I can't eat; I can only drink and think! Twenty per cent. in one week! Will they never stop?-never!-downdown-down-every day! Bought in at 80; rose to 103; could have sold out then, and cleared a hundred thousand pounds! Are now down to 83! Lost it all-every penny! 'Tis enough to set me mad!why did I not sell out?"

"But, father, you have plenty besides, houses and lands, and the funds will rise again."

"No, no, no! The country is going to ruin-to bankruptcy! We shall be all beggars! Every tenant will run away, and leave me without a shilling! We shall all be in the workhouse-all ruined-all paupers!"

"Do not talk so, father; it frets you so, and then you are ill. I shall soon have a new'shirt for you; it is just finished; the buttons only are to be put on, so you shall have it next Sunday."

"That's a good child; you will not let me want. No, no, Marianne; you will work for me, and keep me out of the workhouse! That's a good child. You are like your mother! You shall have money when the funds rise! But I must go; 'tis past ten o'clock. This is dividend day, and I must be at the Bank in time!

Quelch rose from the table, and so did Marianne. She ran for the old man's hat, and his stick and gloves, and buttoned his coat up to the neck, and fastened his neckcloth, and told him to take care of himself-it was cold, and might come on to rain. The miser yielded to his daughter's care, but was unconscious of what she was doing. He kept muttering to

himself on the state of the funds, and calculating on all that he had lost, and might have made, and the interest of that, year after year, and what it would amount to at the end of twenty years, and all that he had lost, and then spoke of the dividends, and thought what he should do with them!

At length the old man was ready, and went out for the day. Marianne followed him to the door, and watched him till he turned the corner, and was lost to her view.

And such a man, too, to have such a child! The miser! He who lived only for his gold, and thought only of making money! Who had no love for aught else on earth, or in Heaven either, not even for himself, save for a moment, when the feeble chord, almost worn out by the world's wealth, and the world's avarice, and the world's curse, might be struck! It would vibrate for a moment, but only for a moment. The hand of Avarice would grasp the string, and stop its notes again! He would then think of her whom he once loved, and wooed, and cherished, the mother of his Marianne-his child! He would think of how she died, with his hand in hers, and his name upon her lips! How he followed her to the grave, and saw the clay thrown upon her coffin; and how he wept too! Of how he sought his home again, and his infant child and kissed her, and blessed her, and found in her another he could love and live for! But then again, he thought that was many years ago; he was foolish then; he had sense now; he would not weep now; he loved money now-nothing-nothing -nothing else! Ha! ha! ha! how wise he was now!-how hap-no, no! he could not say-happy!

That such a father could have such a child! That so much dross could produce such purity! He was of earth, she of Heaven! He the slave of Avarice, she the creature of Love! Is there not a spirit in such which lives unsullied by the contamination around, unsullied by the corruption of time! A spirit which links man to his Creator, and connects the child of clay, and sin, and sorrow, to the being of celestial purity!

Marianne loved her father-she thought only of him-he was no miser to her, no usurer-he refused her money, but he would give it another time-she could wait till then-she had a thousand resources. The old man allowed his daughter but a pound a week to meet the household expenses, and even this he thought too much; but Marianne contrived to support her father, herself, and an old attendant upon it.

Although the miser had his office near Lincoln's Inn Fields,