at Florence in 1633; his passion for reading induced him to employ every moment of his time in improving his mind. By means of an astonishing memory and incessant application, he became more conversant with literary history than any man of his time, and was appointed librarian to the grand duke of Tuscany. He has been called a living library. He was a man of a most forbidding and savage aspect, and exeeedingly negligent of his person. He refused to be waited upon, and rarely took off his clothes to go to bed. His dinner was commonly three hard eggs, with a draught of water. He had a sinall window in his door, through which he could see all those

who approached him; and if he did not wish for their company, he would not admit them. He spent some hours in each day at the palace library; but is said never in his life to have gone farther from Florence than to Pratz, whither he once accompanied Cardinal Norris to see a manuscript. He died at the age of 81, in the year 1714. In the present age we have bookworms, who wander from one bookstall to another, and there devour their daily store of knowledge. Others will linger at the tempting window filled with the twopenny, "and read all the open pages; then pass on to another of the same description, and thus enjoy literature by the way of Cheapside.

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THE love of fame has been called "the universal passion"-as just ly may the love of country be styled the universal sentiment. The latter is, indeed, more deserving of an epithet implying ubiquity than the other, for there is no region where humanity can exist, that it is not found to flourish-no soil so barren, or sky so inclement, where this vigorous feeling is stunted in the human breast; nor is there any state of society, however barbarous or obscure, where it does not operate like an imperishable instinct. It even appears to grow more intense in proportion as a country labours under natural disadvantages; but the reason is, that where physical circumstances make it difficult for man to sustain his existence, the dangers, the toil, and the incessant activity of rude enterprise, which occupy and support life, produce hardihood of mind and body, which give to all the natural affections a more decisive energy than they can have, where greater opportunities of repose and luxurious enjoyment soften down the human character, more or less, from the excellence of its wildly elastic tones, and impress upon it the traits of languor and enervation. Thus,

we find, that in the boisterous and inclement regions of the north, where the savage procures a precarious livelihood by braving the dangers of the ocean, beset with shoals and whirlpools, in a frail skiff, or tracks his prey by the light of the moon, over a howling wilderness of snow-there the patriot passion, as it has been called, binds the heart of the native fondly to rocks and eternal barrenness, making nature, in her most terrible circumstances, appear to his eye, when present, but still more to his memory, when far away, desirable and lovely.

So strong and unsubduable is this sentiment, that the Lapland savage, if placed in the midst of security and enjoyment in the most blooming portion of the temperate zone, would turn from the pleasures that surrounded him, and sicken with desire for the solitudes, the storms, the dreary nights, and perilous adventures which rise upon his mind with the charmed and mournful recollections of his country. Hence it is, that the inhabitants of mountain regions are much more sensibly affected by any circumstance which reminds them of their native land, when sojourning in a

foreign soil, than the natives of plains and flat countries. They are a race inured to hardier habits, to fiercer exertions, and altogether to a bolder and more masculine mode of life, than the inhabitants of places more easily brought under the power of cultivation. The sublime scenery, too, by which they are surrounded the precipices, torrents, caverns, glens, and all the grandeur of the eternal mountains-the mists that suddenly come on, covering all things like a rolling ocean, and as rapidly dispersed before a flood of light-the gorgeoous and gloomy vicissitudes of clouds-the thunder pouring its supernatural voice, answered by a thousand echoes-the storm that, collected within the deep defiles, rushes with headlong fury towards the champaign-all these, and more, that speak the wildest emotion of nature, fill the mind with a kind of poetic fervour, that makes local attachments more fascinating than they can become from the influence of more regulated and colder associations. This poetic feeling, added to the buoyancy of fine spirits, arising from that elastic health which temperance, toil, and a pure atmosphere inspire, gives the mountaineer more enterprise and imagination than other people. That enterprise tempts him to leave his country, but imagination soon calls him back to it: whether prosperous or unfortunate, in sickness or health, society or solitude the sound of a wild air, which he heard among his native hills, penetrates his soul like the wailing of his forsaken country. It carries him in remembrance to those majestic summits, where his infancy was rock

ed amid the war of elements-to the torrent whose gushing melody he loved-to the blossomed heath, over which he bounded in the chace; and the green and lonesome dell, where he reposed from his fatigue-his panting dog beside him. Such recollections arise in the bosom of the Swiss adventurer, when that wild and melancholy strain, the Ranz des Vaches, reminds him, in the midst of civilized countries, and of populous cities, of that rude home to which his heart is bound by this mysterious charm of nature, and he flings off all artificial ties to regain once more the scenes of simple pleasures and stern independence.

— as the child whom scaring sounds molest, Clings close and closer to the nurse's breast; So the loud torrent and the whirlwind's roar,

But bind him to his native hills the more.”

Impressions, sometimes as strong, but always powerful, are produced upon the mind of the Scotch or Irish Highlander in distant climes, when a favourite Highland air brings to his imagination those "banks and braes," which a fond fidelity to the name of country have dearly consecrated, by a sort of religious remembrance.

It is not the power of music— it is not the eloquence of song that does this, though it has been so stated; but it is that powerful influence of association, which music, heard in early life, in the midst of scenes that exert over us something like a moral enchantment, calls into action, touching the purest chords of our affections, not by the mere power of sweet sounds, but by the train of circumstances connected with them, awakening a sad and delicious memory.

MA

AN comes into the world the most helpless and dependent of all creatures. And,certainly, no object of suffering is so calculated to touch all the tender chords in our bosom as a defenceless child, cast upon the

wide world, deprived of the fostering hand of parental tenderness, and destitute of a friend to guide its steps, relieve its wants, and wipe away its tears!

Providence seems to have permit

ted our nature, occasionally, to suffer in such distressful circumstances, to elicit all the softest emotions we possess; and it is impossible to resist the appeal without doing violence to ourselves. For here it is helpless misery, without one energy to relieve itself;-it is simple misery, uncaused by vice or folly ;—it is extreme misery, heightened by every circumstance that can interest the heart, that demands our commiseration. Surely, then, we shall not be alike deaf to the claims of humanity-the cries of wretchedness-the sympathies of our nature—and the voice of Providence; -but, shall rather seize with pleasure the opportunities afforded us, of ameliorating the condition of the helpless

and miserable; and thus answer one of the noblest ends of our existence. And, if our wealth, our influence, and our talents are thus employed while the season of action continues; in circumstances of distress, and periods of suffering and incapacity, which alike await the whole of our race, we may delight ourselves with the reflections of a venerable patriarch: "When the ear heard me, then it blessed me; and when the eye saw me, then it gave witness to me: because I delivered the POOR that cried, and the FATHERLESS, and him that had none to help him. The blessing of him who was ready to perish came upon me, and I caused the WIDOW'S heart to sing for joy."

BORNOU INSOLVENT ACT.

TH HE following is a far wiser mode of obtaining payment of a debt by a creditor, than yielding up what little the debtor may possess to the gripe of the attorney. In Bornou, when "A man refuses to pay his debts and has the means, on a creditor pushing his claims, the Cadi takes possession of the debtor's property, pays the demand, and takes a per centage for his trouble. It is necessary, however, that the debtor should give his consent; but this is not long withheld, as he is pinioned, and laid on his back till it is given; for all which trouble and restiveness he pays handsomely to the Cadi. On the other hand, should a man be in debt and unable to pay, on clearly proving his poverty, he is at liberty: the Judge then says-' God send you the means!'-the bystanders say, 'Amen!' and the insolvent has full liberty to trade where he pleases,"

SINGULAR CHARACTER.

At Penn's Rocks, near Tunbridge Wells, on Tuesday December 4, died Mr. John Bishopp, aged fortytwo years. He was a man of the most singular habits; penurious to

the last degree, although living in the possession of property estimated at least worth 60,000l. His garb was that of the commonest labourer, and generally that which had been thrown off by others. His mansion, a spacious and rather handsome building, (which is remarkable for having been built by the celebrated William Penn, whose residence it was, and from whom the estate now takes its name,) he has suffered to go into a most ruinous state of dilapidation; even in the apartment in which he died, old rags supplied, in some parts of the window, the place of glass; and every thing else was in the same style of wretchedness. He was in the habit of attending auction sales, and particularly those of inferior goods, where he generally purchased the refuse lots. Such was his notoriety in this, that when any inferior lot was offered, it was often remarked, "Oh, that's a lot for Bishopp." Such an accumulation of the veriest rubbish had he obtained, that the once fine and spacious rooms of his house are filled with it; the very poor were the only customers he had to purchase, so that his stock greatly increased. His manners were mild, his wit ready,

and his temper remarkably good, which was often put to the test by rude jests and remarks on his peculiarities, which he always turned on his assailants with temper and adroitness. A meddler in other men's matters once said to him, as he was passing with a waggon load of (what he called) goods," Why, Bishopp, you will buy up all the rubbish in the country." Without stopping, he humourously replied, "Not all! my friend, I shall never bid for you." He died intestate, which will produce a distribution of property, froin which the gentlemen of the law probably will not be excluded. He was never married, but had an illegitimate son, for whom he made no provision.

CONTAGIOUS FEVER.

In a late lecture delivered by Dr. Tweedie on contagious fever, he states that the exhalation from the human body, even in a state of health, when several persons are crowded together in small or illventilated apartments, is quite sufficient to originate typhous fever; and that certain districts of the metropolis are never free from fever, owing to the crowded habitations, and wrethedness and filth of the inhabitants. The doctor justly observes, that "while governments are busily engaged in legislative enactments for supplying the wants of the poor, it is surely an object of national importance to guard against the risk of pestilence, by insisting on the local authorities adopting a more rigid system of police, and enacting some regulations with the view of preventing, as far as possible, danger from this source. 99

THE TWO BROTHERS FOSADONI.

The writer knew these brothers at Venice. The Abbé was a man of great literary knowledge, and a distinguished poet. On their father's death they divided between them the patrimonial property. One entered into commercial speculations, and thereby very much increased his funds; the Abbé, of a far more generous disposition than his bro

ther, was little calculated to follow his example; but instead of accumulating his property, by his benevolence, which was always prone to assist the poor, and mitigate the general wants of suffering humanity, and by the encouragement he afforded, in particular, to those of his own profession, he was soon reduced to the necessity of calling on his brother for assistance; whereupon his brother replied, " Foreseeing the result of all your literary pursuits, I have laid aside eight hundred ducats for your funeral expenses, when it may please God to call you unto his good keeping, that you should not disgrace the family name, in being buried by the parish ;" to which the Abbé Fosadoni replied, "Send me half that sum now while I am living, and at my death I will give you a receipt in full of all demands, for value received."

NUTRIMENT FROM WOODY FIBRE.

It appears from the valuable researches which Dr. Prout is now pursuing in his "Analysis of Organic Substances," that the ligneous fibre of plants is capable of becoming a substitute for grain, for human food, in periods of scarcity, by undergoing the following process:-A given quantity of wood fibre, in shreds or shavings, being well macerated in boiling water, in order to deprive it of the resinous and extractive matter, is to be well dried in an oven, and subsequently ground or reduced to an impalpable powder, having the appearance of brown flour or meal. With a certain portion of leaven this flour may be fermented, and formed into a tenacious paste; and, when well baked, is not inferior in quality to ordinary wheaten bread from undressed meal. A tolerable good variety of starch may also be obtained by boiling wood-flour in water, till the liquid acquires the form of jelly, when cooled. In fact, this gelatinous substance, vi fecula, constitutes the nutritive qualities of the preparations of all vegetable substances for human food.