city. He became, therefore, an object of curiosity. When his two-guinea auditors became exhausted, he dropped his lectures successively to one guinea, half-a-guinea, five shillings, and, as he said, "for the benefit of all," to half-a-crown; and, when he could no longer draw at this price, he exhibited the temple itself for one shilling, to daily crowds, for several months.

Among other whimsicalities, he pretended to have discovered the "elixir of life," by the taking of a quantum of which, a person might live as long as he wished. His terms for this invaluable invention, were, it is true, rather extravagant for common people-but, of course, so desirable a boon ought not to be made too cheap. More than one nobleman, it is recorded, actually paid him the enormous fee of one thousand pounds sterling! Rather an expensive premium for the purchase of a little common sense. This wonderful discovery, however, did

not last long, for the delusion soon exploded, and the quack himself died, after vainly practising various other mummeries, at the age of fifty-two years-neglected, and despised by all.

For the sake of variety, we will glance at some comical patients, the victims of mental illusion, hypochondria, phantasm, and monomania. It is scarcely necessary to inquire into the physical causes to which usually these maladies are to be ascribed: we cite a case, from the numerous instances recorded by Dr. Rush, of mental derangement, and for the accuracy of which he vouches. It was of an unfortunate individual who was possessed with the strange conceit that he was once a calf; the name of the butcher that killed him being given, who kept a stall in Philadelphia market, at which place was sold, without his leave or licence, his bodily right and title, previous to his inhabiting his present "fleshly tabernacle." We do not venture into the region of spectral illusions, or ghosts, but we may mention, in passing, the case of a crazy young lady, recorded by Dr. Ferriar, who fancied herself accompanied by her own apparition, and who may, of course, therefore, justly be said to have been, indeed, often beside herself. A Lusitanian physician had a patient who insisted that he was entirely frozen, so that he would sit before a large

fire, even during the dog-days, and yet cry of cold. A dress of rough sheep-skins, saturated with aqua vitæ, was made for him, and they set him on fire: he then confessed that he was, for the first time, quite warm-rather too much so; and thus this genial remedy cured him of his frigidity altogether.

The following ludicrous story is told in the London Lancet : “While residing at Rome," says the narrator, "I paid a visit to the lunatic asylum there, and among the remarkable patients was one, pointed out to me, who had been saved, with much difficulty, from inflicting death upon himself by voluntary starvation in bed, under an impression that he was defunct, declaring that dead people never eat. It was soon obvious to all that the issue must be fatal, when the humane doctor bethought of the following stratagem: Half-a-dozen of the attendants, dressed in white shrouds, and their faces and hands covered with chalk, were marched in single file, with dead silence, into a room adjoining that of the patient, where he observed them, through a door purposely left open, sit down to a hearty meal. 'Hallo!' said he, that was deceased, presently to an attendant; 'who be they?' 'Dead men,' was the reply. What!' rejoined the corpse, 'dead men eat? 'To be sure they do, as you see,' answered the attendant. 'If that's the case!' exclaimed the defunct, 'I'll join them, for I'm famished; and thus instantly was the spell broken."

In Poyntz's World of Wonders, we find, among other remarkable citations, the following instance recorded of an accomplished somnambulist, the circumstances of which are attested by a beneficed member of the Roman Catholic church : "In the college where he was educated was a young seminarist who habitually walked in his sleep; and while in a state of somnambulism, used to sit down to his desk and compose the most eloquent sermons; scrupulously erasing, effacing, or interlining, whenever an incorrect expression had fallen from his pen. Though his eyes were apparently fixed upon the paper when he wrote, it was clear that they exercised no optical functions; for he wrote just as well when an opaque substance was interposed between them and the sheet of the

paper. Sometimes an attempt was made to remove the paper, in the idea that he would write upon the desk beneath. But it was observed that he instantly discerned the change, and sought another sheet of paper as nearly as possible resembling the former one. At other times a blank sheet of paper was substituted by the bystanders for the one on which he had been writing; in which case, on reading over, as it were, his composition, he was sure to place the corrections, suggested by the perusal, at precisely the same intervals they would have occupied in the original sheet of manuscript. This young priest, morever, was an able musician: and was seen to compose several pieces of music while in a state of somnambulism, drawing the lines of the music-paper for the purpose with a ruler, and pen and ink, and filling the spaces with his notes with the utmost precision, besides a careful adaptation of the words in vocal pieces. On one occasion the somnambulist dreamed that he sprang into the river to save a drowning child; and, on his bed, he was seen to imitate the movement of swimming. Seizing the pillow, he appeared to snatch it from the waves and lay it on the shore. The night was intensely cold; and so severely did he appear affected by the imaginary chill of the river as to tremble in every limb; and his state of cold and exhaustion, when roused, was so alarming that it was judged necessary to administer wine and other

restoratives."

A young man had a strange imagination that he was dead, and earnestly begged his friends to bury him. They consented by the advice of the physician. He was laid upon a bier, and carried upon the shoulders of men to church, when some pleasant fellows, up to the business, met the procession, and inquired who it was; they answered :-" And a very good job it is," said one of them, "for the world is well rid of a very bad and vicious character, which the gallows must have had in due course." The young man, now lying dead, hearing this, popped his head up, and said they ought to be ashamed of themselves in thus traducing his fair fame, and if he was alive, he would thrash them for their insolence. But they proceeded

to utter the most disgraceful and reproachful language, dead flesh and blood could no longer bear it; up he jumps, they run, he after them, until he fell down quite exhausted. He was put to bed; the violent exertion he had gone through promoted perspiration, and he got well.*

It is pertinent to our subject to refer, perhaps, to the analogy and reciprocal influence of the body and soul-mind and matter. That such analogy exists, and exhibits itself in a most indubitable manner, exerting also a most powerful sympathy, none, of course, will question; were it otherwise a matter in dispute, we might offer many able suggestions proposed by various physicians and metaphysicians; but we shall content ourselves by simply quoting a passage on the subject, from Haslam, in his work on Sound Mind. Referring to these curious analogies, he says—“There seems to be a considerable similarity between the morbid state of the instruments of voluntary motion (i. e. the body), and certain affections of the mental powers. Thus, paralysis has its counterpart in the defects of recollection, where the utmost endeavour to remember is ineffectually exerted. Tremor may be compared with incapability of fixing the attention; and this involuntary state of the muscles, ordinarily subjected to the will, also finds a parallel where the mind loses its influence in the train of thought, and becomes subject to spontaneous intrusions: as may be exemplified in reveries, dreaming, and some species of madness." Excessive irritation of the brain is the result of inordinate mental excitement; the physical economy thus becomes deranged, and this condition of bodily disease again. reacts prejudicially on the mental powers. These effects are more or less observable under different conditions, much depending on organic structure, constitutional predisposition, climate, or the peculiar circumstances by which the individual may be surrounded. While the effects, however, of this reciprocal influence of mind and matter are apparent, the cause remains unrevealed; and to this fact may be referred the

* Heywood's Hierarchy.

many ludicrous blunders and wild imaginings of sundry wiseacres, who have sought to account for a matter so occult. So inscrutable and all-pervading is this union and sympathy between the "fleshly tabernacle" and its noble occupant, that in essaying to address any part of the fabric, the dweller is inevitably found to respond to the appeal. Physiologists tell us that our imagination is freest when the stomach is but slightly replenished with food; it is also more healthful in spring than in winter; in solitude than in company; and in modulated light rather than in the full blaze of the noonday sun. Climate affects the temper, because it first influences the muscular system and the animal solids; and who does not know that our happiness and repose are dependent upon the well-balanced condition of the biliary system? In such cases it is the province of medicine to rectify the moral, as well as the physical derangement, at the same moment of time. An eminent physician at Leyden, Dr. Gaubius, who styled himself "Professor of the Passions," recites a curious case of a female patient, upon whom he repeatedly enacted venesection, being of an inflammable temperament, as avouched by her liege-lord; which operation, he says, finally induced the happiest results. This notable practitioner was as au fait at metaphysics as medicine; he cured morals and manners, as well as maladies of the body. Is there not, therefore, a more intimate connection between these two elements of our being than has been generally admitted? Dryden confessed his indebtedness to cathartics for the propitiating of his muse; his imaginative faculty being thus dependent, as he thought, upon the elasticity of his viscera. And as we before intimated, there are, unquestionably, constitutional moral disorders-such as temporary or periodical fits of passion, or melancholy, as well as other impulsive emotions; these, for the most part, are involuntary, or easily provoked, under certain exciting circumstances. A moral patient, who suffers himself to become the wretched victim of intemperance, is sure to need only opiates; and nature, in due time, recovers from the outrage, although he may not from the disgrace. And when some pitiable wight is