various hands, and difcuffing variety of topics, is not to be expected.

As a fpecimen of thefe Effays, we shall lay before our Readers the following; not as being of peculiar excellence, but as introducing to their acquaintance a poet who appears not unworthy of their notice, and whose name, till now, we were strangers to.

Nothing has a greater tendency to elevate and affect the heart, than the reflection upon those perfonages who have performed a diftinguished part on the theatre of life, whofe actions were attended with important confequences to the world around them, or whofe writings have animated or infructed mankind. The thought that they are now no more, that their afhes are mingled with thofe of the meaneft and moft worthless, affords a fubject of contemplation, which, however melancholy, the mind, in a moment of penfiveness, may feel a fecret fort of delight to indulge. "Tell her," fays Hamlet, "that' fhe may paint an inch thick; yet to this fhe muft come at last."

• When Xerxes, at the head of his numerous army, faw all his troops ranged in order before him, he burst into tears at the thought, that, in a fhort time, they would be sweeped from the face of the earth, and be removed to give place to those who would fill other armies, and rank under other generals.

Something of what Xerxes felt, from the confideration that those who then were should cease to be, it is equally natural to feel from the reflection, that all who have formerly lived have ceased to live, and that nothing more remains than the memory of a very few, who have left fome memorial which keeps alive their names, and the fame with which those names are accompanied.

But, ferious as this reflection may be, it is not fo deep as the thought, that even of those persons who were poffeffed of talents for diftinguishing themfelves in the world, for having their memories handed down from age to age, much the greater part it is likely, from hard neceffity, or by fome of the various fatal accidents of life, have been excluded from the poffibility of exerting themselves, or of being useful either to thofe who lived in the fame age, or to pofterity. Poverty in many, and "difaftrous chance" in others, have“ chill'd the genial current of the foul," and numbers have been cut off by premature death in the midst of project and ambition. How many have there been in the ages that are past, how many may exift at this very moment, who, with all the talents fitted to fhine in the world, to guide or to inftruct it, may, by fome fecret misfortune, have had their minds depreffed or the fire of their genius extinguished!

I have been led into these reflections from the perufal of a small volume of poems which happens now to lie before me, which, though. poffeffed of very confiderable merit, and compofed in this country, are, I believe, very little known. In a well-written preface, the reader is told, That most of them are the production of Michael Bruce: That this Michael Bruce was born in a remote village in Kinrofibire, and defcended from parents remarkable for nothing but the innocence and fimplicity of their lives: That, in the twenty-first

year

year

of his age, he was feized with a confumption, which put an end

to his life.

Nothing, methinks, has more the power of awakening benevolence, than the confideration of genius thus depreffed by fituation, fuffered to pine in obfcurity, and fometimes, as in the cafe of this unfortunate young man, to perifh, it may be, for want of those comforts and conveniencies which might have fostered a delicacy of frame or of mind, ill calculated to bear the hardships which poverty lays on both. For my own part, I never pass the place (a little hamlet, fkirted with a circle of old afh trees, about three miles on this fide of Kinross) where Michael Bruce refided; I never look on his dwelling,a fmall thatched houfe, diftinguished from the cottages of the other inhabitants only by a fafhed window at the end, instead of a latsice, fringed with a honeysuckle plant, which the poor youth had trained around it;-I never find myself in that spot, but I ftop my horfe involuntarily; and looking on the window, which the honey. fuckle has now almost covered, in the dream of the moment, I picture out a figure for the gentle tenant of the manfion; I with, and my heart fwells while I do fo, that he were alive, and that I were a great man to have the luxury of vifiting him there, and bidding him be happy.I cannot carry my readers thither; but that they may fhare fome of my feelings, I will prefent them with an extract from the laft poem in the little volume before me, which, from its fubject, and the manner in which it is written, cannot fail of touching the heart of every one who reads it.

A young man of genius, in a deep confumption, at the age of twenty-one, feeling himself every moment going fafter to decline, is an object fufficiently interefting; but how much must every feeling on the occafion be heightened, when we know that this perfon poffeffed fo much dignity and compofure of mind, as not only to contemplate his approaching fate, but even to write a poem on the fubject!

In the French language there is a much-admired poem of the Abbé de Chaulieu, written in expectation of his own death, to the Marquis de la Farre, lamenting his approaching feparation from his friend. Michael Bruce, who it is probable never heard of the Abbé de Chaulieu, has alfo written a poem on his own approaching death; with the latter part of which I shall conclude this paper.

Now Spring returns; but not to me returns
The vernal joy my better years have known:
Dim in my breaft life's dying taper burns,
And all the joys of life with health are flown.
Starting and fhiv'ring in th' inconftant wind,
Meagre and pale, the ghbft of what I was,
Beneath fome blafted tree I lie reclin'd,

And count the filent moments as they pass.
The winged moments, whofe unftaying speed
No art can flop, or in their course arreft;
Whose flight thall fhortly count me with the dead,
And lay me down in peace with them that reft.
C. 2

Oft

Oft morning-dreams prefage approaching fate;
And morning dreams as poets tell, are true,
Led by pale ghosts, I enter death's dark gate,
And bid the realms of light and life adieu.
I hear the helpless wail, the fhriek of woe;
I fee the muddy wave, the dreary shore,
The fluggish ftreams that flowly creep below,
Which mortals vifit, and return no more.
Farewell, ye blooming fields! ye chearful plains!
Enough for me the church-yard's lonely mound,
Where Melancholy with ftill Silence reigns,

And the rank grafs waves o'er the cheerless ground,
There let me wander at the clofe of eve,

When fleep fits dewy on the labourer's eyes,
The world and all its bufy follies leave,

And talk with wifdom where my DAPHNIS lies.

There let me fleep forgotten in the clay,

When Death fhall hut thefe weary aching eyes,
Reft in the hopes of an eternal day,

Till the long night is gone, and the last morn arise.' C..E..t

ART. IV. Some Obfervations relative to the Influence of Climate on Vegetable and Animal Bodies. By Alexander Wilfon, M. D. 8vo. 5s. Boards. Cadell. 1780.

TH

HE principal intention of the Author of this performance, which has through accident been too long overlooked by us, is to fhew the great influence which climate has on vegetables and animals. In the firft of the three parts into which it is divided, he endeavours to prove, that a certain degree of the phlogistic principle is univerfally neceffary to vegetation,' and that the quantity difengaged in any given diftrict of the globe is exactly in proportion to the degree of folar and lunar influence in that district :—that the action of manure in promoting vegetation bears a certain proportion to the quantity of phlogiftic matter contained in thefe manures; and that foffil feptics' (fuch as calcareous earths, mild or cauftic) act by promoting the putrefaction of vegetable and animal bodies, which feparates the component parts, and by that means only act as manures and that the growth of plants is affected by cli mate, in proportion to the degree of light and perspiration which refults from the fun and moon's joint influence.'

In the fecond part the Author confiders the human body as confifting of matter which had originally existed in a vegetable form; and as being liable to be influenced, as vegetables are known to be, by its food and by climate. He examines into the changes thus induced, and points out fome of their varieties, and the caufes which produce them.

In the third part the Author extends the operation of climate, and other phyfical principles, to the mind. Here his object is, to trace and fhew the actual influence of climate, in changing the powers of the mind; and to attempt the investigation of those particular caufes, which produce thefe changes, and alfo to point out how the predominance of the fame principle is productive of the fame effects on the mind as well as on the body, in the extremes of heat and cold.'

The regular analyfis of a fyftematical work like the prefent, in which theory perhaps too much preponderates, would lead us too far. Referring the inquifitive reader to the work itself, where he will meet with fome ingenious obfervations, we shall attend to the fingular accounts which our Author gives, relative to the light of the moon, and its supposed influence on vegetable and animal bodies.

Treating of the causes of putrefaction, the Author affirms, that the contact of the lunar rays very much promotes that procefs. To confirm this affertion, he relates fome experiments, certainly not sufficiently numerous or diverfified, made in the latitude of about eleven degrees North, on two pieces of fresh beef; one of which was exposed, during the night, to the light of a bright full moon, while the other was covered with a box which did not admit a particle of light. In the morning the covered piece fhewed not the fmalleft fign of putrefaction, while the other smelled ftrongly. By two o'clock the fame day, the found piece began to fmell; but that which had been exposed to the lunar rays was much further advanced in putrefaction.'

The Author adds, that facts of this kind are fo generally known in these climates, that the fishermen, who are out all night, take care to prevent the rays of the moon from shining on the fish they catch; yet, notwithstanding their precautions, those taken in moon-light become putrid confiderably fooner than others taken in the day-time, or when there is no moonfhine.' He obferves too, that, between the tropics, it has long been a general opinion among perfons concerned in the agriculture of those climates, that moon-fhine, or the contact of the lunar rays, ripens fuits, and accelerates the growth of plants.

The Author likewife produces an experiment to fhew that the electric matter accelerates putrefaction in animal bodies. In the middle of winter, a small fish was divided into two equal parts, one of which was kept in an electrified ftate for fome hours each day; while the other lay expofed to the air in the fame temperature. That which had been electrified emitted a putrid smell a confiderable time before the other was affected.'

We cannot fubfcribe to the Author's opinion that the antifeptic qualities of vegetables arife from the nitrous acid in

C 3

their

their compofition. This opinion feems principally to be founded on a misapprehenfion of fome of Dr. Priestley's obfervations particularly of fome experiments contained in his fecond voJume.

Dr. Priestley has fhewn," fays the Author, that vegetable fubftances contain a large proportion of nitrous air, which is a modification of the nitrous acid; and he hath alfo proved that animal substances (the fat excepted) contain none of this nitrous air, but a portion of fixed and inflammable.'-Elfewhere he fays, eggs contain a proportion of nitrous air; therefore refift putrefaction a confiderable time longer than the flesh of granivorous fowls.'-Milk is rather lefs animalised than eggs, and contains rather more nitrous air.'

It might with equal propriety be faid, that metals, charcoal,. fpirit of wine, &c. contain nitrous air, as to affirm that it enters into the compofition of vegetables. The fact is, that all these fubftances contain phlogiston, which, uniting with the nitrous acid added to them, conftitutes the elaftic fluid called nitrous air. It is true, that animal fubftances likewife contain phlogifton, and yet do not, in general, furnish much nitrous air, when fpirit of nitre is added to them: but there are numerous fubftances containing phlogifton, which, from caufes more or lefs obvious, or from various circumftances, will not part with it to the nitrous acid, fo as to conftitute nitrous air. Thus, blood, which in its crude ftate will not produce nitrous air, when treated with spirit of nitre, will readily furnish air of that kind, if it has been previously reduced to the ftate of a coal.

In the second part of this work, we meet with fome judicious obfervations of the Author's refpecting the fea-fcurvy. He obferves, that the antifeptic regimen, fuch as the wort recommended by Dr. Macbride, is not alone fufficient to prevent or cure this disease; but that there is another indication of cure which ought equally to be attended to; and which confifts in keeping up a due evacuation by the skin, or by perspiration, to prevent an accumulation of the putrid matter generated, and detained in the body. Dr. Lind, he obferves, has given many inftances, where a moist atmosphere, conjoined with a very moderate degree of cold, has been productive of the scurvy both at fea and land and even in the warm latitudes, and on fhore,. the Author adds, that among the lower claffes, who live much on falt beef, and in low damp fituations, where perfpiration is greatly obftructed, a confiderable degree of fcurvy is often induced, though the inhabitants have a ready access to the vege tables of the climate. The great attention,' fays the Author, paid by Capt. Cook to his people, their warm cloathing, and being only one-third of their time on duty instead of one half,. which is common, were moft powerful affiftants to the wort, by

tending