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the impenetrable gloom of this silvan sanctu- the degradation of sin that his soul deploresary? And if here we chose to perish by sui- it is the guilt which he would expiate, if pos. cide or natural death--and famine is a natural sible, in torments; it is the united sense of death-what eye would ever look on our bones? wrong, sin, guilt, degradation, shame, and reRaving all; but so it often is with us in sever- morse, that renders a moment's pang of the est solitude-our dreams will be hideous with conscience more terrible to the good than sin and death.

years of any other punishment--and it thus is Hideous, said we, with sin and death? the power of the human soul to render its Thoughts that came flying against us like vul- whole life miserable by its very love of that tures, like vultures have disappeared, disap- virtue which it has fatally violated. This is a pointed of their prey, and afraid to fix their passion which the soul could not suffer-untalons in a thing alive. Hither—by some se less it were immortal. Reason, so powerful cret and sacred impulse within the soul, that in the highest minds, would escape from the often knoweth not the sovereign virtue of its / vain delusion; but it is in the highest minds own great desires-have we been led as into a where reason is most subjected to this awful penitentiary, where, before the altar of nature, power-they would seek reconcilement with we may lay down the burden of guilt or re- offended Heaven by the loss of all the happimorse, and walk out of the Forest a heaven-ness that earth ever yielded-and would repardoned man What guilt ?-0 my soul! joice to pour out their heart's blood if it could canst thou think of Him who inhabiteth eter-wipe away from the conscience the stain of nity, and ask what guilt? What remorse ?- one deep transgression! These are not the For the dereliction of duty every day since high-wrought and delusive states of mind of thou receivedst from Heaven the understand- religious enthusiasts, passing away with the ing of good and of evil. All our past existence bodily agitation of the dreamer; but they are gathers up into one dread conviction, that the feelings of the loftiest of men's sons--and every man that is born of woman is a sinner, when the troubled spirit has escaped from their and worthy of everlasting death. Yet with the burden, or found strength to support it, the same dread conviction is interfused a know- conviction of their reasonableness and of their ledge, clear as the consciousness of present awful reality remains; nor can it be removed being, that the soul will live for ever. What from the minds of the wise and virtuous, withwas the meaning, O my soul! of all those out the obliteration from the tablets of memory transitory joys and griefs--of all those fears, of all the moral judgments which conscience hopes, loves, that so shook, each in its own has there recorded. fleeting season, the very foundations on which It is melancholy to think that even in our thy being in this life is laid? Anger, wrath, own day, a philosopher, and one of high name hatred, pride, and ambition-what are they all too, should have spoken slightingly of the unibut so many shapes of sin coeval with thy versal desire of immortality, as no argument birth ? That sudden entrance of heaven's light at all in proof of it, because arising inevitably into the Forest, was like the opening of the from the regret with which all men must reeye of God! And our spirit stands ashamed gard the relinquishment of this life. By thus of its nakedness, because of the foulness and speaking of the desire as a delusion necessapollution of sin. But the awful thoughts that rily accompanying the constitution of mind have travelled through its chambers have ven- which it has pleased the Deity to bestow on tilated, swept, and cleansed then-and let us us, such reasoners but darken the mystery break away from beneath the weight of con- both of man and of Providence. But this de fession.

sire of immortality is not of the kind they say Conscience! Speak not of weak and fantas- it is, nor does it partake, in any degree, of the tic fears-of abject superstitions--and of all character of a blind and weak feeling of regret that wild brood of dreams that have for ages at merely leaving this present life. “I would been laws to whole nations; though we might not live alway," is a feeling which all men speak of them-and, without violation of the understand—but who can endure the momenspirit of true philosophy, call upon them to tary thought of annihilation? Thousands, and bear testimony to the truth. But think of the tens of thousands—awful a thing as it is to die calm, purified, enlightened, and elevated con--are willing to do so—“passing through nascience of the highest natures-from which ture to eternity”—nay, when the last hour objectless fear has been excluded--and which comes, death almost always finds his victim hears, in its stillness, the eternal voice of God. ready, if not resigned. To leave earth, and What calm celestial joy fills all the being of all the light both of the sun and of the soul, is a good man, when conscience tells him he is a sad thought to us all-transient as are human obeying God's law! What dismal fear and sud- smiles, we cannot bear to see them no moreden remorse assail him, whenever he swerves and there is a beauty that binds us to life in but one single step out of the right path that is the tears of tenderness that the dying man sees shining before his feet! It is not a mere self- gushing for his sake. But between that regret ish terror-it is not the dread of punishment for departing loves and affections, and all the only that appals him--for, on the contrary, he gorgeous or beautiful shows of this earth-becan calmly look on the punishment which he tween that love and the dread of annihilation, knows his guilt has incurred, and almost de- there is no connection. The soul can bear to sires that it should be inflicted, that the in- part with all it loves—the soft voice the censed power may be appeased. It is the kindling smile—the starting tear-and the proconsciousness of offence that is unendurable foundest sighs of all by whom it is beloved ; -not the fear of consequent suffering; it is! but it cannot bear to part with its existence

It cannot even believe the possibility of that| vision of man, and lifts up his eye undoubting which yet it may darkly dread. Its loves its at the very moment when it again comes glopassions its joys—its agonies are not itself. rious on its predicted return. Were the EterThey may perish, but it is imperishable. Strip nal Being to slacken the course of a planet, or it of all it has seen, touched, enjoyed, or suf- increase even the distance of the fixed stars, fered-still it seems to survive-bury all it the decree would be soon known on earth. knew, or could know in the grave—but itself | Our ignorance is great, because so is our cannot be trodden down into the corruption. knowledge; for it is from the mightiness and It sees nothing like itself in what perishes, ex- vastness of what we do know that we imagine cept in dim analogies that vanish before its the illimitable unknown creation. And to last profound self-meditation-and though it whom has God made these revelations ?

Το parts with its mortal weeds at last, as with a a worm that next moment is to be in darkgarment, its life is felt at last to be something ness? To a piece of earth momentarily raised not even in contrast with the death of the body, into breathing existence? To a soul perishbut to flow on like a flood, that we believe con-able as the telescope through which it looks tinues still to flow after it has entered into the into the gates of heaven? unseen solitude of some boundless desert.

“Oh! star-eyed science, hast thou wander'd there Behind the cloud of death,

To waft us home-the message of despair?" Once, I heheld a sun; a sun which gilt

No; there is no despair in the gracious light That sable cloud, and turn'd it all to gold. How the grave's altered! fathonless as hell!

of heaven. As we travel through those orbs, A real hell to those who dream'd of heaven,

we feel indeed that we have no power, but we ANNIHILATION! How it yawns before me!

feel that we have mighty knowledge. We can Next moment I may drop from thought, from sense, The privilege of angels and of worms,

create nothing, but we can dimly understand An outcast from existence! and this spirit,

all. It belongs to God only to create, but it is This all-pervading, this all-conscious soul, This particle of energy divine,

given to man to know—and that knowledge is

, Which travels nature, flies from star to star,

itself an assurance of immortality. And visits gods, and emulates their powers, For ever is extinguish’d."

"Renounce St. Evremont, and read St. Paul. If intellect be, indeed, doomed utterly to

Ere rapt by miracle, by reason wing'd,

His mounting mind made long abode in heaven. perish, why may not we ask God, in that deep This is freethinking, unconfined to parts, despair which, in that case, must inevitably To send the soul, on curious travel bent, flow from the consciousness of those powers

Through all the provinces of human thought :

To dart her flight through the whole sphere of man; with which he has at once blessed and cursed

Of this vast universe to make the tour; us-why that intellect, whose final doom is In each recess of space and time, at home;

Familiar with their wonders : diving deep; death, and that final doom within a moment,

And like a prince of boundless interests there, finds no thought that can satisfy it but that of Still most ambitious of the most remote ; Life, and no idea in which its flight can be

To look on truth unbroken, and entire ;

Truth in the system, the full orb; where truths; lost but that of Eternity? If this earth were By truths enlighten'd and sustain'd, afford at once the soul's cradle and her tomb, why An archlike, strong foundation, to support should that cradle have been hung amid the

Th' incumbent weight of absolute, complete

Conviction : here, the more we press, we stand stars, and that tomb illumined by their eternal

More firm; who most examine, most believe. light? If, indeed, a child of the clay, was not Parts, like half-sentences, confound : the whole this earth, with all its plains, forests, moun

Conveys the sense, and God is understood,

Who not in fragments writes to human race. tains, and seas, capacious enough for the Read his whole volume, skeptic! then reply." dreams of that creature whose course was

Renounce St. Evremont! Ay, and many a finally to be extinguished in the darkness of its bosom? What had we to do with planets, Deistical writer of higher repute now in the and suns, and spheres, “and all the dread world. But how came they by the truths they magnificence of heaven ?" Were we framed did know? Not by the work of their own unmerely that we might for a few years rejoice assisted faculties for they lived in a Christian in the beauty of the stars, as in that of the country; they had already been imbued with flowers beneath our feet?' And ought we to many high and holy beliefs, of which-had be grateful for those transitory glimpses of they willed it—they could never have got rid; the heavens, as for the fading splendour of the and to the very last the light which they, in earth? But the heavens are not an idle show, their pride, believed to have emanated from the hung out for the gaze of that idle dreamer inner shrine-the penetralia of Philosophy, Man. They are the work of the Eternal God, came from the temples of the living God. and he has given us power therein to read They walked all their lives long—though they and to understand his glory. It is not our knew it not, or strived to forget it-in the light eyes only that are dazzled by the face of hea- of revelation, which, though often darkened to ven-our souls can comprehend the laws by men's eyes by clouds from earth, was still

Had the New Teswhich that face is overspread by its celestial shining strong in heaven. smiles. The dwelling-place of our spirits is tament never been—think ye that men in their already in the heavens. Well are we entitled pride, though to give names unto the stars; for we know

“Poor sons of a day," the moment of their rising and their setting, could have discerned the necessity of framing and can be with them at every part of their for themselves a religion of humility? No. As shining journey through the boundless ether. by pride, we are told the angels fell—so by While generations of men have lived, died, pride man, after his miserable fall, strove to and are buried, the astronomer thinks of the lift up his helpless being from the dust; and golden orb that shone centuries ago within the though trailing himself, soul and body, along the soiling earth, and glorying in his own cor- now a noise as of “thunder heard remote." ruption, sought to eternize here his very sins Waterfalls-hundreds of waterfalls sounding by naming the stars of heaven after heroes, for ever-here-there--everywhere-among conquerors, murderers, violators of the man- the remoter woods. Northwards one fierce dates of the Maker whom they had forgotten, torrent dashes through the centre—but no vilor whose attributes they had debased by their lages-only a few woodmen's shielings will own foul imaginations. They believed them- appear on its banks; for it is a torrent of preselves, in the delusion of their own idolatries, cipices, where the shrubs that hang midway to be “Lords of the world and Demigods of from the cleft are out of the reach of the spray Fame," while they were the slaves of their of its cataracts, even when the red Garroch is own sins and their own sinful Deities. Should in flood. we have been wiser in our generation than Many hours have we been in the wilderness, they, but for the Bible? If in moral specula- and our heart yearns again for the cheerful tion we hear but little too little of the con- dwellings of men. Sweet infant streamlet, fession of what it owes to the Christian reli- that flows by our feet without a murmur, so gion—in all the Philosophy, nevertheless, that shallow are yet thy waters—wilt thou—short is pure and of good report, we see that “the as hitherto has been thy journeying——wilt thou day-spring from on high has visited it.” In be our guide out into the green valleys and all philosophic inquiry there is, perhaps, a ten- the blue heaven, and the sight once more of dency to the soul's exaltation of itself—which the bright sunshine and the fair fleecy clouds ? the spirit and genius of Christianity subdues. No other clue to the labyrinth do we seek but It is not sufficient to say that a natural sense that small, thin, pure, transparent thread of of our own infirmities will do so--for seldom silver, which neither bush nor brier will break, indeed have Deists been lowly-minded. They and which will wind without entanglement have talked proudly of humility. Compare round the roots of the old trees, and the bases their moral meditations with those of our great of the shaggy rocks. As if glad to escape divines. Their thoughts and feelings are of from its savage birthplace, the small rivulet the “earth earthy;" but when we listen to those now gives utterance to a song; and sliding others, we feel that their lore has been God-down shelving rocks, so low in their mossy given.

verdure as hardly to deserve that name, glides “It is as if an angel shook his wings.”

along the almost level lawns, here and there

disclosing a little hermit flower. No danger Thus has Christianity glorified Philosophy; now of its being imbibed wholly by the thirsty its celestial purity is now the air in which in-earth; for it has a channel and banks of its tellect breathes. In the liberty and equality own-and there is a waterfall! Thenceof that religion, the soul of the highest Philo- forwards the rivulet never loses its merry sopher dare not offend that of the humblest voice and in an hour it is a torrent. What peasant. Nay, it sometimes stands rebuked beautiful symptoms now of its approach to the before it—and the lowly dweller in the hut, or edge of the Forest! Wandering lights and the shieling on the mountain side, or in the whispering airs are here visitants-and there forest, could abash the proudest son of Science, the blue eye of a wild violet looking up from by pointing to the Sermon of our Saviour on the ground! The glades are more frequentthe Mount--and saying, “I see my duties to more frequent open spaces cleared by the man and God here!" The religious establish- woodman's axe-and the antique Oak-Tree all ments of Christianity, therefore, have done alone by itself, itself a grove. The torrent more not only to support the life of virtue, but may be called noble now; and that deep blue to show all its springs and sources, than all atmosphere-or say rather, that glimmer of the works of all the Philosophers who have purple air-lies over the Strath in which a ever expounded its principles or its practice.

great River rolls along to the Sea. Ha! what has brought thee hither, thou Nothing in all nature more beautiful than wide-antlered king of the red-deer of Braemar, the boundary of a great Highland Forest. from the spacious desert of thy hills of storm ? | Masses of rocks thrown together in magnifiEre now we have heheld thee, or one stately cent confusion, many of them lichened and as thee, gazing abroad, from a rock over the weather-stained with colours gorgeous as the heather, to all the points of heaven; and soon eyed plumage of the peacock, the lustre of the as our figure was seen far below, leading the rainbow, or the barred and clouded glories of van of the flight thou went'st haughtily away setting suns-some towering aloft with trees into the wilderness. But now thou glidest sown in the crevices by bird or breeze, and softly and slowly through the gloom-nowatch- checkering the blue sky-others bare, black, fulness, no anxiety in thy large beaming eyes; abrupt, grim as volcanoes, and shattered as if and, kneeling among the hoary mosses, layest | by the lightning-stroke. Yet interspersed, thyself down in unknown fellowship with one places of perfect peace--circles among the tall of those human creatures, a glance of whose heather, or taller lady-fern, smoothed into vel. eye, a murmur of whose voice, would send vet, it is there easy to believe, by Fairies' feet thee belling through the forest, terrified by the rocks where the undisturbed linnet hangs flash or sound that bespoke a hostile nature her nest among the blooming briars, all floatwont to pursue thy race unto death.-The ing with dew draperies of honeysuckle alive hunter is upon thee-away-away! Sudden with bees-glades green as emerald, where lie as a shooting-star up springs the red-deer, and the lambs in tempered sunshine, or haply a in the gloom as suddenly is lost.

lovely doe reposes with her fawn; and further On-on-on! further into the Forest !--and down, where the fields half belong to the mountain and half to the strath, the smoke of hidden Was there ever such a descriptive dream of huts--a log-bridge flung across the torrent--a a coloured engraving of the Cushat, Quest, or hanging garden, and a little broomy knoll, with Ring-Dove, dreamt before ? Poor worn-out á few laughing children at play, almost as wild- and glimmering candle !--whose wick of light looking as the wanderers of the woods ! and life in a few more flickerings will be no

Turn your eyes, if you can, from that lovely more what a contrast dost thou present with Wilderness, and behold down along a mile- thyself of eight hours ago! Then, truly, wert broad Sträth, fed by a thousand torrents, flow- thou a shining light, and high aloft in the roométh the noblest of Scotia's rivers, the strong- gloaming burned thy clear crest like a star Śweeping Spey! Let Imagination launch her during its midnight silence, a memento mori of canoe, and be thou a solitary steersman-for which our spirit was not afraid. Now thou art need is none of oar or sail; keep the middle dying-dying-dead! Our cell is in darkness. course while all the groves go by, and But methinks we see another—a purerma ere the sun has sunk behind yon golden clearer light-one more directly from Heaven. mountains-nay, mountains they are not, but we touch but a spring in a wooden shutter å transitory pomp of clouds-thou mayest and lo! the full blaze of day. Oh! why should list the roaring, and behold the foaming of we mortal beings dread that night-prison-the the Sea.

Grave ?

DR. KITCHINER.

FIRST COURSE.

here is the same as if one accustomed to drink

water, should, all at once, begin to drink wine.” It greatly grieved us to think that Dr. Kitch- Had the Doctor been alive, we should have iner should have died before our numerous asked him what he meant by “long and vioavocations had allowed us an opportunity of lent jolting ?” Jolting is now absolutely undining with him, and subjecting to the test-act known in England, and it is of England the of our experienced palate his claims to immor. Doctor speaks. No doubt, some occasional tality as a Cook and a Christian. The Doctor jolting might still be discovered among the had, we know, a dread of Us not altogether lanes and cross-roads; but, though violent, unallayed by delight; and on the dinner to Us, it could not be long: and we defy the most sewhich he had meditated for nearly a quarter dentary gentleman living to be more so, when of a century, he knew and felt must have hung sitting in an easy chair by his parlour fireside, his reputation with posterity-his posthumous than in a cushioned carriage spinning along fame. We understand that there is an unfin-the turnpike. But for the trees and hedgeished sketch of that Dinner among the Doctor's rows all galloping by, he would never know papers, and that the design is magnificent. that he was himself in motion. The truth is, Yet, perhaps, it is better for his glory that that no gentleman can be said, now-a-days, to Kitchiner should have died without attempting lead a sedentary life, who is not constantly to imbody in forms the Idea of that Dinner. It travelling before the insensible touch of mignt have been a failure. How liable to im- M‘Adam. Look at the first twenty people that perfection the matériel on which he would have come towering by on the roof of a Highflier or had to work! How defective the instruments ! a Defiance. What can be more sedentary? Yes--yes !-happier far was it for the good old Only look at that elderly gentleman with the man that he should have fallen asleep with the wig, evidently a parson, jammed in between a ündimmed idea of that unattempted Dinner in brace of buxom virgins on their way down to his imagination, than, vainly contending with Doncaster races. Could he be more sedentary, the physical evil inherent in matter, have de- during the psalm, in his own pulpit ? tected the Bishop's foot in the first course, and We must object, too, to the illustration of died of a broken heart!

wine and water. Let no man who has been so "Travelling," it is remarked by our poor unfortunate as to be accustomed to drink dear dead Doctor in his Traveller's Oracle, " is water, be afraid all at once to begin to drink à recreation to be recommended, especially to wine. Let him, without fear or trembling, those whose employments are sedentary-who boldly fill bumpers to the Throne-the Navyäre engaged in abstract studies-whose minds and the Army. These three bumpers will have been sunk in a state of morbid melan- have made him a new man. We have no obcholy by hypochondriasis, or, by what is worstjection whatever to his drinking, in animated of all, a lack of domestic felícity. Nature, succession, the Apotheosis of the Whigs—the however, will not suffer any sudden transition; Angler's delight-the Cause of Liberty all over and therefore it is improper for people accus- the World-Christopher North_Maga the Imtomed to a sedentary life to undertake sudden- mortal. “ Nature will not suffer any sudden. lý a journey, during which they will be ex-transition !” Will she not? Look at our posed to long and violent jolting. The case water drinker now! His very own mother could not know him-he has lost all resem-ing that he should spend his honeymoon among blance to his twin-brother, from whom, two the gravel beds of Kinnaird or Moulenearn, or short hours ago, you could not have distin- the rocky sofas of the Tummel, or the green guished him but for a slight scar on his brow marble couches of the Tilt. What has beso completely is his apparent personal iden- come now of “ the sense of satiety in eating ?" tity lost, that it would be impossible for him John—the castors !-mustard—vinegar-cayto establish an alibi. He sees a figure in the enne-catchup-peas and potatoes, with a very mirror above the chimney-piece, but has not little butter--the biscuit called “rusk”-and the slightest suspicion that the rosy-faced Bac- the memory of the hotch-potch is as that of chanal is himself, the water-drinker; but then Babylon the Great. That any gigot of mutton, he takes care to imitate the manual exercise exquisite though much of the five-year-old of the phantom-lifting his glass to his lips at blackfaced must assuredly be, can, with any the very same moment, as if they were both rational hopes of success, contend against a moved by one soul.

haunch of venison, will be asserted by no deThe Doctor then wisely remarks, that it is vout lover of truth. Try the two by alternatė “impossible to lay down any rule by which to platefuls, and you will uniformly find that you regulate the number of miles a man may jour-leave off after the venison. That" sense of ney in a day, or to prescribe the precise num- satiety in eating,” of which Dr. Kitchiner ber of ounces he ought to eat; but that nature speaks, was produced by the Tay salmon dehas given us a very excellent guide in a sense voured above-but of all the transitory feelof lassitude, which is as unerring in exercise ings of us transitory creatures on our transit as the sense of satiety is in eating.”

through this transitory world, in which the We say the Doctor wisely remarks, yet not Doctor asserts nature will not suffer any sudaltogether wisely; for the rule does not seem den transitions, the most transitory ever expeto hold always good either in exercise or in rienced by us is “the sense of satiety in eateating. What more common than to feel one's- ing." Therefore, we have now seen it for a self very much fatigued-quite done up as it moment existing on the disappearance of the were, and unwilling to stir hand or foot. Up hotch-potch-dying on the appearance of the goes a lark in heaven-tira-lira-or suddenly Tay salmon-once more noticeable as the last the breezes blow among the clouds, who forth- plate of the noble fish melted away-extinwith all begin campaigning in the skyor, guished suddenly by the vision of the venison quick as lightning, the sunshine in a moment -again felt for an instant, and but for an inresuscitates a drowned day—or tripping along, stant-for a brace and a half of as fine grouse all by her happy self, to the sweet accompani. as ever expanded their voluptuous bosoms to ment of her joy-varied songs, the woodman's be devoured by hungry love! Sense of satiety daughter passes by on her way, with a basket in eating, indeed! If you please, my dear in her hand, to her father in the forest, who friend, one of the backs-pungent with the has already laid down his axe on the meridian most palate-piercing, stomach-stirring, heartshadow darkening one side of the straight stem warming, soul-exalting of all tastes—the wild of an oak, beneath whose grove might be drawn i bitter-sweet. up five score of plumed chivalry! Where is But the Doctor returns to the subject of

6 When one begins," your “sense of lassitude now, nature's un- travelling—and fatigue. erring guide in exercise ?" You spring up he says, “ to be low-spirited and dejected, to from the mossy wayside bank, and renewed yawn often and be drowsy, when the appetite both in mind and body,“ rejoicing in Nature's is impaired, when the smallest movement ocjoy," you continue to pass over houseless casions a fluttering of the pulse, when the moors, by small, single, solitary, straw-roofed mouth becomes dry, and is sensible of a bitter huts, through villages gathered round Stone taste, seek refreshment and repose, if you wish to Cross, Elm Grove, or old Monastic Tower, till, PREVENT ILLNESS, already beginning to take unwearied in lith and limb, you see sunset place.” Why, our dear Doctor, illness in such beautifying all the west, and drop in, perhaps, a deplorable case as this, is just about to end, among the hush of the Cottar's Saturday Night and death is beginning to take place. Thank --for it is in sweet Scotland we are walking in Heaven, it is a condition to which we do not our dream--and know not, till we have stretched remember having very nearly approximated! ourselves on a bed of rushes or of heather, Who ever saw us yawn? or drowsy? or with that “kind Nature's sweet restorer, balmy our appetite impaired, except on the withdrawal sleep,” is yet among the number of our bosom of the table-cloth? or low-spirited, but when friends--alas! daily diminishing beneath fate the Glenlivet was at ebb? Who dare declare fortune, the sweeping scythe-stroke of death, that he ever saw our mouth dry? or sensible or the whisper of some one poor, puny, idle, of a bitter taste, since we gave over munchand unmeaning word !

ing rowans? Put your finger on our wrist, at Then, as to the sense of satiety in eating." | any moment you choose, from June to JanuIt is produced in us by three platefuls of hotch- ary, from January to June, and by its pulsation potch-and, to the eyes of an ordinary ob- you may rectify Harrison's or Kendal's chroserver, our dinner would seem to be at an end. nometer. But no--strictly speaking, it is just going to But the Doctor proceeds--"By raising the begin. About an hour ago did we, standing on temperature of my room to about 65°, a broth the very beautiful bridge of Perth, see thatdiet, and taking a tea-spoonful of Epsom salts identical salmon, with his back-fin just visible in half a pint of warm water, and repeating it above the translucent tide, arrowing up the every half hour till it moves the bowels twice Tay, bold as a bridegroom, and nothing doubt- or thrice, and retiring to rest an nour or two

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