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world to reveal his woes to the Fa-, when we have most deeply mourned

ther of spirits.

"With many an arrow deep infix'd

His panting side is charg'd." And to whom can he tell the bitter sorrows of a wounded spirit, but to Him who is mighty to save? Peter, when smitten by the piercing eye of his Lord, was too deeply moved to remain with the crowd; "he went out and wept bitterly." And has it not been thus with us in those hours

our unfaithfulness to the Lord? And in those bright and sunny days when he has indulged us with special and enlarged communications of his love, has it not been in secret that we have enjoyed these gracious visits? Has it not been in retirement that we have most fully learned the meaning of his blessed words, “I will come in to him, and sup with him, and he with me?" J. BUCKLEY.

POETRY.

STOLEN MOMENTS AT THE LYRE., Mountains, mantled by the snow-storm,

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LITERARY AND SCIENTIFIC SELECTIONS.

SANATORY CHEMISTRY. (From the Edinburgh Review.) "ANY substance that has to make its way from the human stomach, through the vessels which proceed to the various parts of the body, must be capable of being dissolved by the fluids of the body. An insoluble substance will pass unchanged and unabsorbed along the alimentary canal, and escape from the body in the usual manner, without producing any materially sensible effect. A soluble substance, on the contrary, passes into the blood, and if nutritious, nourishes; if poisonous, more or less injuriously affects the functions of life. Thus chemists are now familiar with methods by which in their laboratories many soluble poisonous substances can be united with other bodies, so as to become insoluble, and in this new state be rendered capable of being introduced into the stomach without injurious consequences. To perform such an experiment in the stomach, is to administer an antidote of more or less certain efficacy, against a poison which has been previously swallowed. In this way, lime and magnesia are antidotes against oxalic acid, the white of an egg against corrosive sublimate, hydrated per oxide of iron against white arsenic, and so on. These severally combine with the poisonous substance when brought in contact with it in the stomach, render it insoluble, and consequently inert. Here is a very intelligible application of chemical knowledge; but we have explained it on our way to a much more beautiful one.

Among familiar examples of slow poisoning is the disease known by the name of painters' colic. It is produced in lead mines and lead works, by inhaling lead dust, and elsewhere not unfrequently by drinking water impregnated with lead. The metal being introduced into the system in a soluble form, makes its way among the tissues, and lays the foundation of chronic and frequently returning pains. But diluted sulphuric acid or sulphuretted waters, like those of Harrogate, render lead insoluble in water, whether in the body or out of it, and are therefore prescribed as common remedies for the painters' colic. Observation, meanwhile, has shewn that these VOL. 14.-N.S. C

remedies, though they assuage or remove the symptoms of the disease, still leave the lead which caused it diffused in an inert state through the body, ready, when favourable conditions arise, again to act injuriously on the bodily health. It is only the other day that M. Melsens, of Brussels, perfected this subdivision of chemical physiology, and gave us the means both of detecting the lurking presence of the metal in the system, and of entirely expelling it as a cause of disease. A substance known in chemistry and pharmacy by the name of iodide of potassium is capable of decomposing the insoluble compounds of lead, and of bringing the metal into a new condition in which it readily dissolves in water. If a person be poisoned with lead, his system struggles to throw it off, the metal makes its way through his kidneys, and can be detected in his urine. Cure him by sulphuric acid or sulphuretted water, and with the pain the lead disappears from his urine, but remains in the system. Give him now a dose of iodide of potassium, and the pains of poisoning return, and lead reappears in the water-a large dose will prostrate him with colic, but small doses at frequent intervals, will gradually wash away the metal without any sensible suffering. The cure is complete as soon as a large dose of the medicine brings neither a return of the anguish, nor of the lead into the fluid excretions. So mercury, after protracted salivation, lingers likewise long in the system, but the same chemical compound washes it effectually out; and over certain hitherto unmanageable metals it exercises a similar power. The medical practitioner learns to form in the interior of the patient, and for his cure and comfort, the same preparations which the chemist, for the purposes of science, has already often formed and studied in his laboratory.

But the manner in which chemistry has been of late indispensably connected with far more refined physiological inquiries, bearing ultimately on questions of human health, may also be made intelligible.

A knowledge of functional physiology is now necessary to practical medicine. A full-bodied man is prostrated with apo

plexy, heavily breathing, speechless, and scarcely a subject for hope. Where an inordinate eating has been an immediate cause, to empty the bowels is to give a chance of returning sense and life. But the internal stomach is inaccessible, and the medical attendants look grave, until one bolder than the rest, removes by known means a portion of the skin from the outer surface of the digestive region, and applies croton oil to the raw spot upon the senseless body. The powerful medicine is sensibly absorbed, the bowels are moved, and the patient is saved. A mere knowledge of the functions of tissues, and the nature of remedies, suggests curative applications of this description. But among the most hopeless, if not the most distressing and painful diseases to which humanity is liable, is diabetes. It is characterised by the presence of sugar in the urine, a substance not usually produced in healthy persons. Many tests by which its presence and quantity can be ascertained have been supplied by chemistry; and the daily quantity indicates the progress of retrocession in the disease. But to check this abnormal production by administering food not easily converted into it, by known processes, was nearly all the advice which chemistry could in this case give to medicine, and it constituted nearly all in the way of special remedy which the physician was able to employ. The cause and seat of the disease were alike unknown. A sudden glimmer, however, appears to have been thrown upon the subject through an observation by M. Bernard, that if a slight wound be inflicted upon the fourth ventricle of the brain, a little above the origin of the eighth pair of nerves, the pneumo-gastric, which proceed among other organs to those of digestion, the urine becomes charged with sugar, and presents the other characters usual in diabetic diseases, The study of chemical symp. toms therefore, must be combined with that of the chemical functions of the different parts of the body, and of the derangements of those functions which almost insensible lesions may occasion. How curious, that in a malady where both departments of science are called in, chemistry should almost exclusively fix the attention upon the urine, while physiology bids us turn our efforts chiefly to the condition of the brain! It

will readily occur to some of our readers, that M. Bernard's observation, if fully established, communicates directly with many other most interesting questions still open to discussion-such as those which relate to the true theoretical action and real practical effect of substances employed as food for man and other animals."

SIR DAVID BREWSTER'S ADDRESS

AT THE OPENING OF THE SESSION OF THE EDINBURGH PHILOSOPHICAL INSTITUTION.

"IN surveying the social and intellectual progress of our species, and tracing more specifically the rise and progress of those great inventions and discoveries which have added to our physical enjoyments, and consolidated our power over the material world, we can scarcely fail to recognize the law of progressive developement under which the efforts of individual minds are regulated and combined and by which our reason is destined to attain its maximum of power, and our knowledge the limit of extension. Nor is it less obvious, from the records of sacred and profane history, as well as from the study of the human heart, that a similar law regulates our moral and religious progress, and that the time will arrive when its climax shall be reached, and the great purposes of Providence accomplished. The supreme authority that has ordained this grand movement in the living world-this double current of our moral and intellectual sympathies, has prepared the material universe as the arena of its developement; and all our civil and religious institutions have been organized as instruments by which that developement is to be effected. The confusion of tongues, the physical disunion of empires, and the rivalries of industrious nations, are among the auxiliaries by which this triumph is to be consummated. The outbursts of the moral and physical world form a powerful alliance in the same cause, and, in the vigorous reactions which they invoke, the highest qualities of this moral and intellectual being are called into play. The war which desolates, and the fire and flood which destroys, undermine the strongholds of prejudice and corruption, and sweep away the bulwarks on which vice and error have been entrenched. Amid convulsions like these, indeed,

humanity often weeps and trembles, and civilization seems to pause or to recede; but human sympathy only glows warmer and ranges the wider, and the pauses of civilization are only breathing stations at which she drew a fuller inspiration, and her retrograde steps were but surer footings from which she is to receive a fresh and onward impulse.

It would be an interesting task, and one not less instructive than interesting, to mark the different rates at which these two tides, the moral and intellectual, have been advancing, and to investigate the causes which have influenced their progress. When man fell from his first estate it was his moral, not his intellectual nature, that suffered. When he renounced the harmlessness of the dove, he did not forfeit the wisdom of the serpent. In the alienation of his mind from what was holy, he found an incen. tive to the concentrating of his powers upon what was sinful; and his right of dominion over the lower creation, and his lust of power over his own species, summoned him to exercise all the intellectual energies of his nature. Thus directed and applied, reason became helpless as a guide to duty, and when conscience did become his counsellor, it was only to plunge him deeper into idolatry and superstition. It was not till the advent of our Saviour that the great tide of moral and religious regeneration began to flow; and while we who live in these latter days can trace, from the eminence we occupy, its general path over the civilized and savage world, we know from the divine records, and we read in the events around us, that it shall finally cover the earth as the waters cover the channel of the sea.

The tide of secular knowledge and intellectual dominion is advancing with still greater rapidity; and though the waves of each, like two interfering beams of light, have, in certain cases, produced darkness, and may still produce it, yet their general tendency has been towards union and mutual support and thus to advance in one common and gigantic breastwork against the powers of darkness. In order to assist in this great movement, and to prepare us for the duties which it requires, academical institutions have been individually and nationally endowed; and those in our own northern land have not been the least successful in developing its genius

and enlightening its people. Our universities were all established when there were only three learned professions, and their modes of instruction are of course accommodated to the wants of an age but little advanced in civilization and knowledge. Attempts, indeed, have been occasionally made to adapt them to a change of circumstances but they have been feeble and ineffectual; and while some of them possess chairs of but little importance, and lectures on subjects which can be better studied in books, others are destitute of the means of instruction on the most important sciences and arts-sciences which of all others are most intimately connected with our secular as well as our eternal interests, and arts which give employment to millions, which are the main stay of our commercial greatness, which fill the national treasury, and exalt the national character. Need I mention to you the higher branches of metaphysics, the new physical sciences of voltaic elec. tricity, electro-magnetism, magneto-elec tricity, ellectro-metallurgy, the electrotype, and the new art of photography, which has recently made most rapid and unexpected progress? Need I enumerate the physical sciences of zoology, mineralogy, geology and botany, or need I direct your attention to the labours of the machinist and the civil-engineer-to our gigantic steam-vessels facilitating the intercourse of nations to our canals, uniting distant oceans-to our suspension and tubular bridges, aqueducts and viaducts, spanning impassible valleys-to our harbours and breakwaters, sheltering the vessels of peace and war-to our railways, hurrying us along on the wings of mechanism-and to our lighthouses, throwing their beams of mercy over the deep? The importance of such subjects cannot be overrated, and a certain degree of acquaintance with them is now regarded as a necessary part of a liberal education. In a community like ours, where knowledge is so widely diffused, those who have had the benefit of an academical education must resume their studies, and raise their general knowledge to a much higher level, while those who have not enjoyed this advantage have a still higher step to take, and a still greater defect to supply. It was not till the beginning of the present century that measures were taken to extend our institutions for the advancement of

science, literature, and the arts. The urgencies of war had summoned into exercise much of the national genius, and engrossed much of its attention; and it was only when peace had been conquered for Europe that our intellectual wants called forth the liberality of the nobility and community of England. The British Institution, which has given to science two of its most illustrious cultivators, and to England two of its brightest names-Davy and Faradaywas the first of a series of establishments which have sprung up in every part of the empire, and which, whether local or general, whether fixed or migratory, have done much in preparing the public mind to appreciate the noblest and most gigantic of all our institutions-the Exhibition of the Industry of all Nations. This is not the place nor the occasion to do more than to allude to the taste, the genius, and the intellectual energy of the different nations that competed for its honours, and I refer to it chiefly for the purpose of stating that by its agency the value of useful knowledge, and the necessity of a more general cultivation of science and the arts have been impressed on thousands whose minds could only be reached through the eye, and who had never before felt a sympathy for the inventor's genius or the artist's skill. But, though thousands have been thus enlightened, thousands still remain in darkness, and some comprehensive plan must be devised for placing within the reach of all, that system of ocular teaching which stimulates the indolent to study, and compels the ignorant to enquire. Every city in the empire, every provincial town, and even every parish village, should have its philosophical institution or school, with its museum or collection of models, and our great national repository-the British Museum-might advantageously supply those institutions with thousands of its duplicates, which add neither to the beauty nor to the interest of its overflowing and magnificent collection. Although there is no branch of science and literature, and no department of the fine or the useful arts, that is not professionally or intellectually useful, yet there are some branches of the physical and natural sciences which possess peculiar advantages as subjects for general instruction. However deep be the interest which we take in the history of

our species, in the amelioration of our social institutions, in the creations of human genius, and in the productions of human industry, it is pre-eminently our duty, while it is the highest of our privileges, to study the Creator's worksto know something of the vast sidereal universe, of which we form a part-of the system of planets to which our own belongs-of the physical history and construction of our terrestrial home-of the organic and inorganic substances which compose it of the precious materials which Providence has stored up for civilization-and of those noble forms of life and beauty which everywhere appeal to the affections and intelligence of man. To know nothing of the planet which is now our home, or of those celestial regions which may yet be our abode, and to remain in wilful ignorance of the very elements we breathe, which constitute our corporeal frame, and to which we must all sooner or later return, is to do violence to the immortal natures which we inherit, and to display the most culpable indifference to the future destiny of our being. One of our first desires no doubt, though one of the last to be gratified-is the desire to know something of our mental constitution and of those processes by which we think, and reason, and analyse what is complex, and combine what is insulated; and in directing your attention to the philosophy of mind as a subject of study, it is less for the purpose of giving you any useful information, than of guarding you against the dangers which lurk under some of its most alluring speculations-against the Scylla of scepticism on the one hand, and the Charybdis of cre dulity on the other. However highly we may estimate the genius of its cultivators, this is a science which has not yet taken its place within the domain of positive knowledge. It is impossible to read the interesting details of its history, to follow its ingenious and varied speculations, and to weigh the conclusions to which its votaries have arrived, without endeavouring to estimate the importance and extent of its acquisitions, and without fearing that a value too high has been set upon them, and an extent too wide assigned them. Amid the details of its history we gaze with delight on the first dawnings of intellectual truth, we admire it as it brightens amid the clouds and storms of scholastic disputations, we

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