cares of an affectionate Mother, who hushes every noise, and excludes every disturbance, where she has laid the child of her love to rest? So, by such soothing circumstances, and gentle working opiates, He giveth to his beloved, sleep.

No sooner does the morning dawn, and day-light enter the room, than this strange enchantment vanishes. The man awakes, and finds himself possessed of all the valuable endowments which for several hours were suspended or lost. His sinews are braced, and fit for action. His senses are alert and keen. The romantic visionary heightens into the master of reason, and the frozen or benumed affections melt into tenderness, and glow with benevolence.

O sacred rest!

Sweet pleasing sleep! of all the powers the best;
O peace of mind! repairer of decay!

Whose balms renew the limbs to labours of the day,
Care shuns thy soft approach, and sullen flies away.

DRYDEN.

If sleep do not pay the accustomed visit, the whole frame of man will in a short time be thrown into disorder; his appetite cease, his spirits dejected, and his mind, abridged of its slumbering visions, begin to adopt waking dreams. It is in vain that all light is excluded, all sound removed, and books of entertainment read, the restless and busy mind still retains its former activity, and Reason, that wishes to lay down the reins, in spite of herself, is obliged to maintain them. This is strongly instanced by Shakspeare, in the soliloquy of King Henry.

How many thousands of my poorest subjects
Are at this hour asleep! Oh! gentle sleep,
Nature's soft nurse, how have I frighted thee,
That thou no more wilt weigh my eye-lids down,
And steep my senses in forgetfulness?

Why, rather, sleep, ly'st thou on smoky cribs,
Upon uneasy pallets stretching thee,

And hush'd with buzzing night-flies to thy slumbers;

Than in the perfum'd chambers of the great,

And lull'd with sounds of sweetest melody?

O thou dull god, why ly'st thou with the vile
In loathsome beds, and leav'st the kingly couch,
A watch-case or a common larum bell?

Wilt thou upon the high and giddy mast
Seal up the ship-boy's eyes, and rock his brains
In cradle of the wild imperious surge;
And in the visitation of the winds,

Who take the ruffian billows by the top,

Curling their monstrous heads, and hanging them
With deaf'ning clamours in the slipp'ry shrouds,
That, with the hurley, death itself awakes?
Canst thou, O partial sleep! give thy repose
To the wet sea-boy, in an hour so rude;
And, in the calmest, and most stillest night,
With all appliances and means to boot,

Deny it to a King? Then, happy low, lie down!
Uneasy lies the head that wears a cnown.

Excess of sleep is not less prejudicial to health than the want of it. The whole body sinking gradually into a complete state of inactivity, the solid parts become relaxed, the blood circulates slowly, and remains particularly long in the head; perspiration is disordered, the body increases in fat, and rendered incapable of being the medium of mental exertion, the memory is enfeebled, and the unhappy sleeper falls into a lethargic state, by which his sensibility is, in a great measure, destroyed.

Sleep, immediately after supper, is apt to occasion the nightmare, or a stagnation of the blood, which, by its pressure, produces the sensation or idea of this troublesome bed-fellow. It is principally the nervous, the debilitated, and those of an impaired digestion, who are visited by such terrific dreams.

The proper duration of sleep, in youth and adults, is usually settled at six or seven hours; in children and the aged, from eight to nine hours. The more bodily weakness we feel, the more we may indulge in sleep; provided it be refreshing. people in a state of health be perfectly cheerful in mind and body, when they awake, this is the most certain criterion that they have

If

slept sufficiently. Though weakly persons may have a disposition to sleep during the day, they ought not to sleep long, since it tends to increase their languor and relaxation. Whether to sleep after dinner be advisable, must be decided by a variety of concurrent circumstances; age, climate, and the like. However, a sleep after dinner ought never to exceed a half, or one hour at most; and it is also much better sitting, than lying horizontally; for, in the latter case, we are subject to determinations of the blood towards the head, and consequently to head-ach, and risk apoplexy. In the evening we should eat light food, and not retire to rest till two or three hours after supper. The mind ought to be serene and cheerful previous to going to rest, and we should then avoid gloomy thoughts; so that we may as much as possible guard against dreams, which always interfere with the refreshing influences of sleep.

Sleep, accompanied either with talking or walking, called somniloquism and somnambulism, is a transient paroxysm and delirium. When they are induced by an increase of stimuli, whether corporeal or mental, blood-letting, gentle cathartics, vegetable diet, with moderate exercise, are the best remedies; but when they arise from a diminution of customary stimuli, a glass or two of wine, a draught of porter, or a dose of laudanum at bed-time, and a change of air, will generally succeed.

The Feather-beds, in which we usually sleep, are certainly not as healthy as mattresses in summer.

But, as many individuals have not sufficient resolution to use these, they ought to be particular in having their feather-beds frequently shaken and aired. Farther, it is highly improper to sleep in beds overloaded with clothes; they heat the blood more than is consistent with health, and produce an immoderate and enervating perspiration, which still more weakens the organs already relaxed by sleep. The custom of sleeping with the curtains drawn close, is pernicious to health, because the copious exhalations, which then take place, cannot be properly dissipated, and are consequently re-absorbed. It is also very imprudent to cover the head with the bed-clothes. The old and abominable custom of warming the bed, likewise deserves to be condemned; as it has a direct tendency to produce debility,

A spacious and lofty room should always be chosen, if practicable, for a bed-chamber, and attention paid to the admission of fresh air, even during the night, in warm weather. Lastly, no candle or fire should be kept burning during the night in a bed-room.

ON EVACUATIONS.

By subtle fluids pour'd through subtle tubes
The natural, vital, functions are performed;
By these the stubborn aliments are tamed,
The toiling heart distributes life and strength,
These the still crumbling frame rebuild.

ARMSTRONG,

THE evacuations of the body, from its superfluous, impure, and noxious particles, are no less necessary than its nourishment. The same power which changes and assimilates our food and drink, likewise affects the due and timely evacuation of the secretions. It is an object of the first consequence, that nothing remain in the body which ought to be evacuated; and that nothing be ejected, which may be of use to its preservation. How many persons do we find who complain of bad health, notwithstanding every attention they pay to air, aliment, exercise, and sleep; while others enjoy a good state of health, though totally careless with regard to these particulars, and all owing to a difference in the state of evacuations. If these be disordered, the most rigorous observance of dietetic rules is insufficient to insure our health; while on the contrary, most of those rules may be neglected, for some time, without any injurious consequences, if the evacuations be regular. Nature removes not only noxious matter, or such as is in a state of corruption, but likewise the useful fluids, if they become superabundant; for instance, the milk, semen, and blood. In such cases, therefore, these must be considered as objects of evacuation, equally natural and salutary.

Nature expels all crude and acrid substances by those three grand emunctóries, the kidneys, bowels, and skin, and accord

ingly as they are disordered, diseases of different degrees of maNature also frelignity and duration will necessarily ensue.

quently relieves herself by more unusual channels; such are the bleeding of the nose, in plethoric young men; the hemorrhoids, with which persons of a middle age are sometimes troubled; the various ulcers common to those whose fluids are in an impure state; the excretions of saliva, and the expectoration of others, &c. By a premature suppression of the troublesome, but salutary efforts of nature, great mischief may be produced to the individual.

Many persons perspire much under the arm-pits; others in the hands or feet; others again are subject to eruptions in the face, or different parts of the body: such canals, however, if nature be once accustomed to eject by them certain ill humours, cannot be suddenly stopped without considerable danger-cleanliness, in the strictest sense of the word, is almost the only safe remedy to counteract their fatal effects.

OF THE PASSIONS.

PASSIONS, like aliments, though born to fight,
Yet mix'd and soften'd, in his work unite.
Love, Hope, and Joy, fair Pleasure's smiling train,
Hate, Fear, and Grief, the family of Pain;
These mix'd with art, and in due bounds confin'd,
Make, and maintain the balance of the mind.

The lights and shades, whose well accorded strife,
Gives all the strength and colour of our life.

POPE.

PASSIONS are the active forces of the soul: They are its highest powers, brought into movement and exertion. Like wind and fire, which are instrumental in carrying on many of the beneficent operations of nature, where they rise to undue violence, or deviate from their proper course, their path is marked with ruin: so are the passions either useful or destructive, according to their direction and degree.