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SURGEON GENERAL'S OFFICE


    LIBRARY
 
 
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FRONTISPIECE.
       2>P
^ooimcgs £u£tain'&. 
         ANALYTICAL VIEW
                    OF

THE  ANIMAL  ECONOMY.
              CALCULATED FOR
       THE STUDENTS OF MEDICINE,
               AS WELL AS
          PRIVATE GENTLEMEN:
            INTERSPERSED WITH
MANY ALLECORIES, AND MORAL REFLECTIONS*.
     DRAWN FROM  THE  SUBJECT,
                    TO
AWAKEN THE MIND TO AN ELEVATED SENSE
                  OF THE
     GREA T AUTHOR OF NA TURE.
          BY ISAAC BALL,
PHYSICIAN AND SURGE&N, AND DIPLOMATIC MEMBEK
  OF THE MEDICAL SOCIETY OF THE CITY AND
            COUNTY OF NEW-YORK.
Quum nobis denegatur diu vivere, aliquid relinquamus
  quod nos vixisse testetur.
Since it is denied us to live long, let us do something tahic'h
  may prove that we have lived.
THE THIRD EDITION, WITH LARGE ADDITIONS.



        PRINTED FOR THE AUTHOR,
              BY SAMUEL WOOD.         .,
1808.

         i    < 
 District of\     Be it remembered, That on the twen
 New-York.} ss' ty-fifth day of January,  in the thirty-sec-
 ond year of the Independence  of the United States of
 America, Isaac Ball,  of the said district, hath depos-
 ited in this office, the title of a book, the right whereof
 he claims as proprietor, in the words following, to wit:

  " An Analytical View of the Animal Economy.  Cal-
 culated for the Students of Medicine, as well as  private
 gentlemen :  interspersed with many allegories and moral
 reflections, drawn from the subject,  to awaken the mind
 to an  elevated  sense of the great  Author of Nature.
 By Isaac Bali., Physician and Surgeon, and  Diplomatic
 member  of the Medical  Society of the City and 'County
 of New-York.
  Quum nobis denegatur  diu vivere, aliquid relinquamus..
     quod nos vixisse testetur.
  Since it is denied us to live  long,  let us leave something
     •which may prove that toe have li<oed."

  In conformity to the Act of the Congress of the United
 States,  entitled, " An  Act  for the  encouragement  of
 Learning, by securing the Copies of Maps, Charts, and
 Books, to the  Authors  and Proprietors  of such Copies,
 during the times therein mentioned ;" and also to an Act
 entitled,  " An Act supplementary to an Act entitled An
 Act  for the encouragement  of Learning, by securing the
 Copies of Maps, Charts  and  Books, to the Authors and
 Proprietors of such Copies, during the times therein men-
tioned, and extending the benefits  thereof to  the arts  of
Designing, Engraving, and Etching Historical and other
 Prints."
                EDWARD  DUNSCOMB,
                      Clerk of the District of Nevi-York. 
z
                 TO
SAMUEL  L.  MITCHELL,  M.  D,
          F. R. S. E.  &c.
PROFESSOR OF NATURAL HISTORY, IN
  THE COLLEGE  OF  PHYSICIANS AND
      SURGEONS, OF NEW-YORK J
               AND TO
    EDWARD  MILLER, M. D.
PROFESSOR OF THE  PRACTICE  OT PHYS-
   IC, AND OF CLINICAL MEDICINE,
     IN THE SAME INSTITUTION,
This third edition of an Analytical View
of the Animal Economy, is inscribed,
as a testimony of the high consideration
with which the author  esteems  their lite-
rary and scientific usefulness in the repub-
lic of letters.
                    ISAAC  BALL
   Nerv-York, June  1, 1809, 
If 
ILLUSTRATION.
              THE FRONTISPIECE

Represents the Heart,  and aborescent branches of
the pulmonary arteries and veins,  to supply those organs
with the vital "fluid.
                THE VIGNETTE

  Represents the Dawning of Life, under the figuie of
an infant, resting on a lyre, the  seven  strings of which
are emblematical of the seven ages of man, " whence life
must downward tend."  As the concordance of sounds pro-
duces harmony, so the harmony  of the  animal and  vital
functions, produces concordance, health, and longevity.
A 2 
-rV 
PRELIMINARY  ADDRESS.
  In this inquiring age, when a desire of knowl-
edge has spread itself far and wide over this
western hemisphere ; when we sit not easy nor
contented under the opinions of ancient times,
but resolve to examine for ourselves, and judge
from our own experience, it may not,  perhaps,
prove unacceptable to propose, as a subject for
inquiry,
" An Analytical View of the Animal Economy."
  The works of nature are an  inexhaustible
source of true  knowledge ; and  the  study  of
them the most  noble employment of a rational
mind.   Every part of the creation arrests our
attention, and proclaims the power and wisdom
of its Almighty Author.
  The smallest seed, the minutest insect points
to the skill and wisdom of  the Creator,  in the
fitness of its constitution for the wise purposes
designed, and displays  an elegance of beauty
beyond the reach of art.
  The ancients, probably having only their eyes
to trust to, were incapable of detecting  those
discoveries with which the microscope furnishes
us.   It presents us, as it were, a new sense  of 
VI
vision:  developes  the  amazing  operations of
nature, and affords new wonders to an admir-
ing world!
   Who, a thousand years  since, would  have
imagined it possible to  distinguish  myriads of
animals in a drop of water ?  Or  that the crim-
son tide of life, and even the  globules  of that
fluid, should be conducted, and seen distinctly,
rolling through canals smaller than the finest
hair?
   That  not only the exterior form, but even
the structure of the intestinal tract, and the mo-
tions of the fluids in the smallest insect, should
be rendered objects of sight!
   These are noble discoveries, whereon a new
phylosophy  has been erected. This enlarges
the capacity of the soul, and furnishes a more
just and sublime idea than mankind before had,
of the grandeur and magnificence of nature, and
of the infinite power, wisdom, and goodness of
nature's  God.
   That man is certainly happy, who is capable
of discovering the greatest number  of rational
and useful  inventions, or  amusements, easily
attainable, and within his power :  if so, he that
is delighted with  the  works  of nature, and
makes them his study,  must,  we presume,  be
happy ; since  every animal, flower, fruit and
insect affords him  new pleasures  ; and he con-
siders  the whole  universe a magazine of won- 
Vll
ders, which ages are scarcely sufficient  to con-
template and admire !
   The  invention  of glasses has brought into
view the two extremes of creation ; which were
probably beyond the inspection of former ages ;
those vast and distant bodies of  the  solar sys-
tem,  whose dimensions,  distances,  motions,
regularity and order we are become acquainted
with by the help of the telescope ;  and we owe
the knowledge of those extremely minute spe-
cies of animals, plants,  &c. to the microscope.*
   Mr. Boyle  says, his  wonder  dwells not so
much on nature's clocks, as on her watches.  If
we compare the structure of a mite  with that
of an elephant, we shall be led to this opinion.
   The  massy matter and surprising strength
of the one may astonish us, but  we  shall find
ourselves lost  in amazement  if  we attentively
examine the several minute parts of the other.
For the mite has more limbs than the elephant;
each of which is furnished with veins and arte-
ries, nerves, muscles, tendons and bones.   It
  * The invention of the telescope is ascribed to Janson,
a Dutchman, who flourished in 1590.  The English have
improved this instrument to a degree of perfection most
astonishing.  The construction of the microscope, result-
ing from the same principles, was invented in Naples, in
the year 1621. 
                     Vlll

"has eyes, a mouth and a proboscis, to take in its
food ;  it has a stomach to digest it, and intes-
tines to carry off what is not retained for nutri-
tion.   It has a heart, to propel the circulation
of the vital fluid,  and a brain to supply nerves
every  where.   Let  us  stop, ponder,  wonder
and admire, as  far as our feeble abilities can
reach,  the extreme  minuteness  of  all these
parts!
  We shall now  proceed  on  our plan,  and
modestly endeavour to present  our respected
readers with a brief view of our subject, which
it is hoped may afford some interest and amuse-
ment. 
              AN

    ANALYTICAL  VIEW

              OF

THE ANIMAL ECONOMY
           batoning of 3Xife.


■' When life is new the ductile fibres feel
The heart's increasing force, and, day by day,
The growth advances, till the larger tubes,
Acquiring (from their elemental veins,
Condensed to solid chords) a firmer tone,
Sustain, and just sustain—the impetuous blood:
Here stops the growth. With overbearing pulse,
And pressure, still the great destroy the small, 
1G
 Still with the ruins of the small grow strong :
 Life grows, meantime, amid the grinding force
 Of viscous fluids, and elastic tubes ;
 In various functions vigorously are plied,
 By strong machinery, and in solid health
 The man confirmed, long triumphs o'er disease :
 But the full ocean ebbs ; there is a point,
 By nature fix'd, -whence life must downward tend;
 For still the beating tide consolidates
 The stubborn vessels, more reluctant still
 To the weak throbs of the ill supported heart;
 These  languishing,  these  strengthening  by
    degrees,
 To hard, unyielding,  unelastic bone,
 Through various channels the congealing flood
 Crawls lazily,  and hardly wanders on :
 It loiters still—and now it stirs no more.—
 This is the period few attain : the death
 Of nature : thus (so Heaven ordain'd it) life
 Destroys  itself: and  could these laws have
    chang'd,
 Nestor might now the fate of Troy relate,
And Homer live,  immortal as his song."


  It  is  said  that in a new-born infant the
pulse vibrates about 134 strokes in a min-
ute :  in middle age, from 60 to 80; and
 in extreme old age, from 50 to 24. 
RESPECTFULLY  ADDRESSED

              T-0 OUR

       FAIR READERS.
  " Connubial fair! whom no fond transport
    warms
To lull your infant in maternal arms ;
Who, bless'd in vain with tumid bosom, hear
His tender wailing with unfeeling ear;
The soothingkiss and milky rill deny
To the sweet  pouting lip,  and  glist'ning eye !
Ah!  what avail the cradle's damask roof,
The downy bolster,  and embroidered woof?
Oft hears the  gilded couch unpity'd 'plains,
And many a tear the tassel'd cushion stains !
No voice so sweet attunes his cares to rest,
So soft no pillow as his mothers breast I


  Nature not only points out the food pro-
per for infancy, but also kindly prepares it.
When the little inhabitant  is ushered into
this cold  world,  if applied to the maternal
bosom, its sense of perceiving warmth, is
first agreeably affected :  next,  its sense  of
smell is delighted with the fragrance of the
duicid rill: then, its taste is gratified  by the
                    B 
12
flavour of it: afterward, the appetite of hun-
ger and thirst afford pleasure, by the pos-
session of their objects,  and by the subse-
quent health of the infant; and lastly,  the
sense of touch is delighted by the  softness
of the lactary fountain, which the innocent
embraces with  its  hands,  presses  with  its
lips, and watches with uplifted eyes.  Sat-
isfied, it  smiles at the enjoyment of such a
variety of rich pleasures.  It feels an ani-
mal attraction, which is love : a sensation
when the object is present, a desire when it
is  absent;  which  constitute the purest
source of human felicity.
  It is calculated that of one thousand  in-
fants nursed by the mother, not above 300
die ; but of the same number nursed  by
others, 500 perish ! 
                   TO
     STUDENTS IN  MEDICINE.

GENTLEMEN,
   I offer these sheets to you as being the
basis of lectures of the  most eminent anat-
omists, and as  containing a brief view of
the varied departments of the animal body.
   From a desire of being  useful in my
profession, I have ventured to present this
compilation for your perusal, and have no
doubt of your favourable acceptance of it,
nor of your candid interpretation of my
views.
   Should you propose  to pursue your re-
searches in anatomy, (the basis of medical
science) in attending the school establish-
ed at Columbia College, or elsewhere, by
making observations, and taking notes of
extraordinary  morbid appearances in the
cadaverous  subject, and  by  proposing
them occasionally as the subjects of your
reflection, you will derive great and per- 
14
inanent  advantages:  from such  rational
experience  you may expect to acquire a
degree of confidence in yourselves, and will
be  animated  to proceed in your  honour-
able pursuits, with proper resolution.
  Pursue then, with  zeal and persever-
ance, the steps that lead you to knowledge,
and an elevated understanding in your pro-
fession ;  and  support  the  credit and dig-
nity of medical science,  with honour to
yourselves and your country.
   The youth who, led by Wisdom's guiding hand,
  Seeks Virtue's temp'e, and her law reveres,
    He, he alone in Honour's dome shall stand,
  Crown'd with rewards,  and rais'd above his peers.
    Recording annals shall preserve his name,
   And give his virtues to immortal fane.
    With sincere wishes for your  success
      and happiness in life,  and with sen-
      timents of earnest  solicitude   for
      your interest and advancement in our
      honourable profession,
         I remain,
           Gentlemen,
              your affectionate friend,
                        ISAAC  BALL. 
^natomp.
   Anatomy is a science which explains
the structure and use of every part of the
human body.
   The examination of brute animals, fish-
es, reptiles,  plants,  polypi,  &c. in order
to illustrate more clearly, or to demonstrate
by analogy, the structure and functions of
man, is called comparative anatomy.
  Anatomy is divided into nine parts, viz.
Osteology, Syndesmology, Myology, Bursalogy, Angiology, Neurology,	O ■»-» o	Bones. Ligaments. Muscles. Bursae Muscoae. Vessels. Nerves.
Adenology, Splanchnology, Hygrology,	u o	Glands. Viscera. Fluids,
B 2 
Plan
OF THE  NOBLE  EDIFICE.

Bones of the
Cranium, or -^
Skull.
<
o
Bones of the
Face.
             Os Frontis   .   .
             Ossa Parietalia  .   .
             Os Occipitis .
             Ossa Temporalia
             Os Ethmoides
             Sphacnoides  .
           f Ossa Maxillaria sup.
           I -----Jugalia  .   .
          J  ----Nassalia
           j  ----Lachrymalia  .
           J  ----Palatina
           L----Spongiosa infer.
           f Os vomer ....
           j  — Maxillare infer  .
           I  Incisores  ....
             Cuspidati ....
             Bicuspides
             Molares   ....
             Sapientias ....
 Bone of the Tongue, orOs Hyoides 1
 Bones of the fMalleUS   ....   2
 internal  Ear, j InCUS  .....   2
 situated  with < e
 in the Tern- j Otapes.....2
^poraibone.   ^Qs Orbiculare   .   -   2
Dentes, or
Teeth.
<
63 
17
Brought over
 r
f Vertebrae
Spine.
Thorax.
Pelvis.
r
Shoulder.
Arm.
Fore-arm.
Hand. <'
              .  .  . 63
              Cervical 7
              Dorsal  12
 S           ( Lumbar 5
 j Sacrum  .   .  .   .  1
 LOs Coccygis  .   .  1
 C Sternum.    ...  1
 £Ribs  ...      .24
  Ossa Innominata   .  2
S Clavicula    ...  2
£ Scapula  ....  2
  Os Humeri  ...  2
CUlna.....2
£ Radius   ....  2
     " Os Naviculare  2
          Lunare   .  2
          Cuneiforme 2
          Orbiculare  2
          Trapezium  2
          Trapezoides 2
          Magnum .  2
          Unciforme   2
           .... 10
" Carpus, <  —
    or
  Wrist,
Metacarpus
Phalanges.....28
180 
18
Leg.
«
 u
 <u

 C
—
o
Brought over......180
 -Thigh.              Os Femoris .  2
                  .C Patella   .  .  2
                   J Tibia ...  2
                   (Fibula    .  .  2
                   fOsCalcis   .  2
                   j — Astragalus  2
          f Tarsus.<( — Cuboides   2
          I         | — Naviculare  2
         <(         'i_ — Cuneiformia 6
          j  Metatarsus  ....   10
          ^ Phalanges   ....   28
Foot.
«  ^                                240
Sesamoid bones of the thumb and 7   ^   g
 Great Toe, occasionally found 5

                            Total,  248
   The Egyptians, at their feasts, to pre-
•vent excesses, presented a
before their guests,  with this motto :
            " ftcmcmbtr »•?■ musst
             -3c srjotti!,' njus." 
            <*Hefcatiotn

  Let us begin with the less adorned, but
more solid parts which support and defend
the  rest.
  First, we have a system of bones, made
in a variety of shapes, in a variety of sizes :
all strong, that they may bear up the ma-
chine, yet light, that they may not weigh us
down ; hollowed with an inward cavity  to
contain the moistening marrow, and  per-
forated with fine ducts, to admit the nour-
ishing vessels.
  They are larger at their  extremities—
and insensible—that they may  be joined
more firmly, and not be hurt by pressure.
  The manner of their articulation is tru-
ly admirable and remarkably various, yet
never varied without demonstrating  some
wise design,  and answering some valua-
ble end.
  Frequently, when two bones are united,
the  one is nicely rounded and capped  with
a smooth substance,  the other is scooped 
                   20
into a hollow of the same dimensions to re-
ceive it,  and both are  lubricated with an
unctuous fluid to obviate the evil of fric-
tion, and to facilitate rotation.
  These are connected  by  ligaments,  a
tough  and strong arrangement of  fibres,
which  render what would otherwise be an
elegant, yet useless assemblage  of parts, a
well  compacted and manageable system.
   The feet compose  the finest pedestal,
infinitely beyond all that statuary  can ac-
complish,  capable of altering its form, and
extending  its size, as different circumstan-
ces require.
   The undermost part of the heel, and the
extremity  of the  sole, are  shod with  a
tousrh  insensible substance ; a kind of nat-
ural sandal which never wears out, never
wants  repair, and which prevents an undue
compression of  the vessels by the  weight
of the  body.
   The legs and thigh's are like stately col-
umns, so articulated that they are commo-
dious  for walking, and yet adapted to the
easy posture of  sitting. 
-21
  The ribs, turned into a regular arch, are
gently moveable for the act of respiration,
diey  form a safe lodgment for the lungs
and heart, the two most important  organs
of life.
  The back bone is designed not  only to
strengthen the body, but to shield the con-
tinuation of brain, usually termed the spi-
nal marrow, which is almost an infinite as-
semblage  of nerves !
  By commodious outlets, it trasmits these
silver cords, to different parts of the body,
  Had it  been  a single  bone,  the loins
must have been inflexible, to avoid which,
it consists of a  number  of  small bones
which articulate together, and are strength-
ened by compact ligaments.
  By this means, it is capable of  various
inflections, without injuring  the cords of
life, or diminishing that strength which  is
so much required here.
  This peculiarity of structure  gives the
back bone the pliancy of the osier, with
the firmness of the oak ; such a formation
in any other of  the solids must  have oc- 
                   22
casioned great inconvenience,  here  it  is
unspeakably useful; a master piece of cre-
ating skill.
  The arms are exactly proportioned  to
each other, to  preserve the equilibrium  of
the structure.
  These being the guards to defend, and
the ministers that serve the whole body, are
fitted for the most diversified and extensive
operations, firm with bone, yet not weighty
with flesh,  and capable  of  performing all
useful motions ; they bend  inward, and
move  outward,  they  move upward  or
downward, they wheel about in whatever
direction we please.
   To these are  added hands, terminated
by the fingers, not of the same length, nor
of equal bigness, but in both respects dif-
ferent,  which  give  more beauty  and far
greater usefulness.
  Were  they  all  flesh; they  would  be
weak ;  were  they  one  entire bone, they
would be utterly inflexible, but consisting
of various little bones and muscles,  what
shape can they not assume ? 
23
  Being placed at the end of the arm, the
sphere of their actions is exceedingly en-
larged.
  Their extremities are an assemblage of
the  finest nerves, acutely sensible, which
notwithstanding, are destined to almost in-
cessant employ, and frequently among rug-
ged objects.
  For this reason,  they are overlaid with
nails, which preserve them from any vio-
lent injury.
  The hand is the  original and universal
sceptre, which not only  represents, but as-
certains  our dominion over all  the ele-
ments, and over every creature.
  To these hands, we owe the most beaa-
tiful statues, the most  melodious  instru-
ments of music.
  By the  strength of the hand, the tallest
firs fall, and  the largest oak descends from
the mountain.
  Fashioned by the hand,  they become  a
floating warehouse, and carry the produc-
tions of art  from America, and unfurl the
                   c 
                        24

spreading canvass to the  breeze, in the  re-
motest corner of the universe.*


  * The first navigators, builders of ships, and merchant
adventurers, to all the then known parts of the world,
were the Phoenicians, who inhabited near the sea side :
but their invention extended no farther than to open ves-
sels, which afterwards had great improvements 5 for the
Egyptians made ships with decks ;  and galleys with two
banks of oars at a side.  Ships of burden and stowage
were first made  by  the  Cypriots :  smacks, hoys, cock-
boats,  and skiffs, by the Liburnians : brigantines, by the
Rhodians ; and vessels of war, by the Pamphilians.   The
Boetians invented oars : Dedalus,  of Crete, masts and
sails : the Tuscans,  anchors : the rudder, helm,  and the
art of  steering were found out by Typhis, who  took his
hint from seeing  a kite in flying,  guide her whole body
by her tail, or rudder.
  Several centuries before the christian era, according to
the page of history, a person, of the name  of Magnes,
walking over a stone mine, with nails in his shoes, found
his feet strongly  attracted to the surface.   This singular
circumstance occasioned the discovery of the common
magnet,  or load  stone;  which received  its  name from
the person who had been first sensible of its power.  But
the honour of discovering the directive power which the
magnet gives to the  needle of a compass, was reserved
for John Goya, a Neapolitan, who flourished in  1300.
Since that time, the mariners compass has received every
improvement which its importance could  suggest, or phi-
losophy and experiment divine.   What a grand, what a
noble, what a sublime  scene is,  by  this little  director,
displayed !
   Invention is the mark of a fruitful genius ; and when
beneficial to mankind, it gives the  author an honourable 
                     25

   Though  we have not the strength of the
horse, nor the swiftness of the greyhound,
nor the  quick scent of the spaniel, yet, di-
rected  by the understanding and enabled

by the hand, we can, as it were, make them
all our own.
   These short hands have found a way to

penetrate the bowels of the earth.
   These  feeble  hands can manage  the
wings of the wind, arm  themselves  with
the  violence of thunder, and press  into
their service the  forcible impetuosity of
water! *


commemoration to perpetuity. Next to inventions, those
fhat  have improved them to greater perfection than was
originally  discovered, have also claims to public grati-
tude, with the first authors.
  * COLUMBIAN YOUTH!  we call your attention to
the manes of the illustrious Franklin ! who, emanating
from the walks  of humble life, imbittered with the con-
flicts of outrageous fortune, PERSEVERED until he
attained to that elevation in science, society, and virtue,
which distinguished him for the statesman,  philosopher^
and philanthropist. He died at an honourable old age, at
Philadelphia, April 17, 1790.
   An elegant writer is  of opinion, " that the Author of
nature has thought fit to mingle, from time to time, among
the societies of men, a few, and but a few, of those  to
whom he is graciously pleased to bestow a larger proper- 
                     26

   How greatly  then, are we  indebted to
our infinitely wise Creator, for distinguish-

ing this invaluable member  !
   Above all is the head, for the residence

of the brain, rounded to receive,  and firm
to defend it.*
   This is  screened  from heat, defended
from cold, and at the same time beautified
by the hair ;  a decoration so elegant, that

no art can supply ;  so perfectly light as in
no way to encumber  the wearer.
   While other animals are prone in their
aspect, the attitude of man is erect, which
is by far the most commodious for the pro-



tion of the ethereal  spirit, than is given in the ordinary
course of his providence to the sons of men."
   * Here our contemplation is arrested,  to  wonder and
admire the workmanship of creating skill!  To perform
the varied offices assigned the head, which rests immedi-
ately upon the uppermost joint, or vertebra of the neck,
and is united to it by  a hinge joint, upon  which the head
acts freely forward and backward, as may be necessary.
The next joint below permits the  rotary motion  ; and
this mechanism resembles a town and mortise.  We see
the same principle employed in the frame, or mounting
of the telescope.  This occasionally requires that the ob-
ject end  of  the  instrument be moved up and down, as
well as horizontally,  or equatorially. 
                   27
^ecution of all his  extensive designs—
does  it  not  remind us of our noble orig-
inal,  and our sublime end ?
   Struck with the grandeur of the subject,
we would fain set forth all its beauties, but
our pencil, which is too faint,  cannot cor-
respond with the  vivacity of the counte-
nance;  how, indeed, can any  one describe
with energy, these admirable proportions;
these features, full of force and dignity, ex-
pressing to all beholders the  tender emo-
tions and passions as they arise in the heart;
this open and elevated brow,  these lively
and piercing eyes,  eloquent interpreters
of the sentiments  of the soul; this mouth,,
the seat of smiles  ; these ears, whose  del-
icacy catches even the softest whispers !
   If you take a still further survey of  this
beautiful edifice, the prodigious number
of  its parts, their  surprising diversity, ad-
mirable construction, wonderful harmony,
and infinite art, displayed in  the distribu-
tion of them, it will throw us into  such an
ecstasy, that we  shall no sooner  recover
from it, than complain of our  want of suf-
                   c 2 
                   28
ficient inclination and ability  to  admire
such marvellous excellency.
   Here are arteries, the rivers of our little
world, that .striking  out as  they go into
numberless small canals, visit every street,
yea every apartment in the vital city.
   They  are not like several of the veins
near the  surface, but  placed at a sufficient
depth, and thereby are more secure from
external injuries.
   The arteries also commence by collater-
al branches with each other,  so that if any
thing block up or straiten the direct pas-
sage,  the  current by directing to this new
channel, eludes the impediment, flows on,
and soon regains its wonted course.
   The blood thrown from the heart dilates
instantly the arteries,  whose fibres by their
irritability or elastic power  re-act on the
blood, by which  means, as they propel it
onward,  they  vibrate against  the  finger,
and much assist the physician  in the  dis-
covery and cure of diseases.
   The extreme branches of arteries  ter-
minate in veins,  which mav be considered 
                   29
as uniting again into larger branches, then
again into  branches still larger, and so on
continually, till at last they form one large
pipe or trunk, which re-conveys the  blood
to the heart.
   The arteries  are  composed of several
principal membranes placed on each other,
one  of these is highly elastic.
   The veins not being designed to exercise
the same function  as the arteries,  want
diis elastic coat; and the texture of them al-
together is considerably  slighter : such an
exact  economist is nature,  amidst all her
liberalities!
   At the root of the arteries, and in the in-*
ner part of the veins, are placed little sluic-
es or valves, which by sinking and raising
again, open and shut the canal.
   These are found only  when the blood is
constrained to climb, for where the ascent
ceases, they cease also.
   In the centre of the breast, between two
spungy masses, known by  the.name of the
lungs, is deposited a fleshy and hollow py- 
30
ramid, called the heart.   This pyramid has
an apex or point, turned towards the left
side, and is the main spring of the  anima-
ted machine.
   The  ramifications of  the  bronchise  of
windpipe, which are dispersed throughout
the lungs,  carry thither the vivifying air,
which by acting on the spongy  mass opens,
dilates, and extends  them, and  by that
means facilitates the course of blood.*
   Such indeed are the admirable organs
destined for the circulation of the blood ;
but how greatly does this imperfect sketch
fall short of the reality !  How incapable are
the outlines of expressing the beauties  of
this noble subject!

   * The infinitely wise Creator of our bodies, has placed.
lymphatic glands, as  sentinels, to interrupt whatever is
inimical to our health; which, without such a guard,
would be daily, even hourly liable to be injured, not only
by putrid and offensive matter floating in the atmosphere,
but even what is sweet and delicious might have this
pernicious effect: we might literally " die of a rose, in
aromatic pain "
   Dr.  Nieuentryt, in the Leipsic Transactions, reckons
up an hundred muscles that are employed every time  we
breathe. 
                  31
  i
  There is,  in the consideration of  the
organs performing the circulation of the
blood, an air of grandeur that seizes forci-
bly on the mind, and penetrates it with the
highest admiration !-
  Far less magnificent in  its plans, less
skilful in the execution of them, hydraulics
offer us but faint images of this miracle, in
those machines, by means of which, water
is distributed into every part of a great city.
   The works of the Creator must be com-
pared to the emanations of the same infin-
ite mind :  ever like himself,  he has im-
pressed on all his productions a character of
nobleness and  excellence, which demon-
strate their divine original.
   But what are those excellent discoveries
philosophy has made, compared  with the
beauties that are still concealed from  our
view ! The gloom of night veils many im-
portant truths concerning the animal body,
and you are desirous of chasing them away.
   May the dawn of that day, ere long gild
the horizon of  this Western World ! And
may  the time of its breaking forth upon us
be not afar off! 
02
  The glands are an assemblage  of tor-
tuous vessels, complicated  with seeming
confusion, yet perfectly regular.
  We cannot as yet penetrate into the mys-
tery of secretion, all that we know is, that
those fluids said to be secerned, are not ab-
solutely contained within the blood, any
more than the peach, nectarine, or  other
fruits, are principles filtered from the earth
and water,  which nourish the tree.
  Nevertheless, as the seven notes of mu-
sic  differently combined, and the twenty-
four letters, form the whole of harmony and
language,   so may all those  fluids  arise
from the change of combinations of primi-
tive parts, by a machinery that no chymist
can ever perfectly imitate.
  We have nerves, which shoot out their
fibres from the brain, and when remote
from  their source, are  surprisingly mi-
nute ; which set the muscles to work at the
command of the will, and diffuse sensation
throughout the body ;  and upon any im-
pre sion without,  give all  needful intelli-
gence to the soul. 
                   33
   We have membranes, thin and flexible
 coverings, to inwrap the  fleshy parts, to
 connect  some,  and form a separation be-
 tween others.
   We have muscles, composed of the fin-
 est  fibres, yet  endowed with incredible
 strength,  fashioned after a variety of pat-
 terns, but all in the highest  taste for ele-
 gance and use.—These execute their func-
 tions as quick as lightning.   Were we to
 remove mountains, we could not be more
 astonished, than that this arm, these fingers
 should obey the order of the will.
   To turn the screw, or work the lever,  is
 laborious  and wearisome; but  we work
 the vertebras  of the neck,  with all the ap-
 pendant parts ; we advance the leg with all
 the incumbent body ; we rise, we  spring
 from the ground,  and though so great a
 weight is raised, we meet with no difficul-
 ty or fatigue.
   That all this should be effected without
 any toil, by a bare act of the will, is very
 surprising : but that it should be done even
while we  are  entirely ignorant of the man- 
                   34
ner in  which  it  is  performed,  is  most'
astonishing !
  We have fat, an unctuous fluid, contain-
ed in vesicles, which have the appearance,
if viewed through a microscope, of a  clus-
ter of grapes.
  This flanks  and fortifies  our muscles,
like a  strong bastion, supports and warms
them,  like a soft  pillow.   It fills up the
vacuities, and smooths the irregularities of
the flesh ; inwardly,  it supplies the ma-
chine  for motion ; outwardly,  it renders
it smooth aivl graceful.
   The skin is&curious surtout, which cov-
ers the whole, formed of the most delicate
net-work, whose  meshes are minute, and
whose threads are multiplied even to a pro-
digy ;  the meshes are so minute, that  noth-
ing discernible by the eye passes through
them, though they discharge,  every mo-
ment, myriads and myriads of superfluous
encumbrances.*

  * The perspirable fluid is supposed to  embrace two
parts fixed air, and one part azotic air and water, im-
pregnated with different saline matter. 
                   35
   These threads are  so multiplied, that
 neither the point of the most delicate nee-
 dle, nor the infinitely finer lance of a gnat,
 can pierce any part, without drawing blood,
 and causing an uneasy sensation;  conse-
 quently wounding, by so small a puncture,
 both a nerve and a vein.
   But  a course of incessant action must
 exhaust the solids, and waste  the  fluids :
 and, unless both be properly recruited, the
 machine would be destroyed.
   For this reason, our bodies are furnish-
 ed with the organs, and endowed with the
 power of nutrition.
   We have teeth,  tests  of heat and cold;
 the foremost thin and.sharp, to bite asun-
 der the food ;  the side teeth for the pur-
 pose of tearing, and the hindermost  broad
 and strong, indented  with small cavities,
 the better to grind into pieces what is com-
mitted to them.
   Were the teeth, like other bones, cover-
ed  with the periosteum,  chewing  would
give much pain ;  were they quite naked,
                   D 
                  36
they would soon decay and  perish :  to
guard against both, they are covered with
a neat enamel, harder than the bone itself,
which  gives  no pain in chewing, and yet
secures them from various injuries.
  The lips prevent the food from slipping
out  of the mouth,  and,  assisted by the
tongue, return it to the grinders.
  While  they do this in concert  with the
cheeks, they  squeeze  out  a  thin  liquor
from the adjacent glands, which moistens
the food, and prepares it for digestion.
  When  the  mouth is  inactive, these
glands are  nearly  closed ; but when we
speak  or  eat, their  moisture being then
necessary, is expressed as need requires.
  But the food could not descend merely
by  its own weight, through a narrow and
clammy passage, into the stomach.
   Therefore,  to  effect  this, fibres,  both
straight and circular,  are provided ;  the
former enlarge the cavity and give an easy
admittance ; the latter,  closing behind the
descending aliment, press it downward. 
                   37
  But before the food enters the gullet, it
must of necessity  pass over the orifice of
the windpipe, whence it is in danger offal-
ling upon the lungs, which might endanger
immediate suffocation.
   To obviate this, a moveable lid, or senti-
nel is placed,  which, when the smallest
particle advances,  is pulled down and shut
close, but as soon  as it is swallowed, is
again let loose and stands open.
  Thus the important pass is always made
sure against any noxious approaches, yet
left free for the admission of  air,  and for
respiration.
   The food, descending into the stomach,
is not yet ready for the bowels ; therefore,
■ftiat great reservoir is strong to bear, and
fitted to retain it, till it is properly wrought
into the smoothest pulp, by the power  of
the gastric juice, a  fluid secreted in the
stomach itself.
  From hence it is discharged by a  gen-
tle force, and passes gradually into the in-
testines. 
                   38
   Near the entrance of this canal, are the
ducts  of  the  pancreas  and gall-bladder,
which are stimulated by the chyle.*
   The pancreas  is  connected  with the
spleen, which as the stomach becomes fil-
led, is pressed by it, and in consequence,
pours into this gland a greater quantity of
blood, to be changed  into  pancreatic
juice.
   The gall-bladder is attached to the liver,
and is the reservoir to  retain  the  bile,
which pierces the intestines, and blends
the oil and aqueous parts  into one homo-
geneous mass.
   It is furnished with a valve, of a very pe-
culiar; nature ; namely, of a spiral form,
through which the detersive liquid can on-
ly gently ooze.  Admirable construction!
which gives the needful supply, as occasion
may require, and no more !
   The nutriment  then pursues its way
through the mazes of the intestines.

  * This term is used to express the aliment, when dis-
solved in the stomach. 
39
   Had these been straight  or  short,  the

food could  not  have resigned a sufficient
quantity of its nourishing particles ;  there-
fore they are artfully convolved,  and filled
with  numberless folds  or  plaits,  and of
great  lengtii.*
   Along the sides of the winding passage,
countless multitudes of minute vessels pro-
trude themselves, and absorb the nutritious
juices.

   As the aliment proceeds, it is more  and
more   drained   of  its  nutritious  juices.
Glands are,  therefore, posted in the proper
places to  discharge a  lubricating  fluid;

  * The length  of this canal varies in carniverous and
Uerbiverous animals.  The shortest, we believe to be in
some birds of prey, in which the intestinal  tube is  little
more than a straight line, from  the mouth to the  exit.
The longest is in the deer kind   The intestines of a Ca-
nadian stag, four feet high, measured ninety-six feet.-j"
The same volumn in a sheep, unravelled, measured thirty
times the  length of the body : that of a cat, only thrice
the length of the body.  Universally, where the substance
upon which the animal feeds,  is of slow concoction, or
yields its chyle with more difficulty, there the oassage
is  circuitous and dilatory, that time and space  may be
allowed for the  change and absorption, which  are  nee*
essary to life.
        f Mem. Acad. Pans, 1701, page 171.
                      D 2 
40
these are smaller, or fewer, in and near the
stomach, because there the aliment is moist
enough ; whereas, in the  bowels, remote
from the stomach,  they are either multi-
plied or enlarged.
  The chyle drawn off by the lacteals  is
carried through millions  of tubes, whose
perforations are  too fine,  even for the mi-
croscope to discover.   To this it is ow-
ing, that  nothing enters  the blood but
what is capable of passing the finest vessels.
  It is then lodged in several commodious
cells,  the  glands of the  mesentery,  and
there mixed  with a thin  diluting lymph,
which  makes it more apt to flow.
  Here it is conveyed to the common re-
ceptacle, and mounts through a perpendic-
ular tube to be poured into the left subclav-
ian vein; there it mixes with the blood and
loses the name of chyle.
  From this vein,  the new blood passes
into the upper  branch of the principal
trunk  of  veins, which  carries it towards
the heart. 
41
  It then passes into the right auricle of
the ):eart, which opens at its approach, and
by closi.ig immediately, forces it into the
right ventricle, which is dilated to receive
it.
   The  ventricle instantly contracts itself,
(the valve with which it is furnished, rais-
ing itself to oppose the reflux into the auri-
cle) and the blood is  compelled to pass
into the great artery,  which is appointed to
carry it to the lungs.
   The  pulmonary artery, which is subdi-
vided into two trunks, which pass to the
right and left lobes, composing the lungs,
(its  valve  preventing the reflux  into the
heart)  by contracting,  drives the blood
into every part of those organs.
   In the spongy cells of this amazing lab-
or it jry, the   blood imbibes  the  oxygen
portion of the external air, and assumes, in
consequence, a more brilliant colour.
   Thus improved, it enters the left auricle
of the heart by the four pulmonary veins,
and, in proportion  to the oxygen air con-
tained within the blood, the left auricle of 
42
the heart, obedient to the  stimulus, con-
tracts and forces it into the left ventricle.
   The latter, by contracting itself, pushes
the blood into the aorta, which, by contin-
ually dividing and subdividing itself,  dis-
tributes its balsamic liquor to all partsof the
body,  in order to promote their support or
growth, occasion different secretions,  and
distribute the animal heat.
  By this astonishing mechanism and de-
pendance of the  vital principle in the air,
the powerful energy of the heart,  seconded
by that of the arteries, transmits the blood
to the most  remote parts of the body, not-
withstanding the  resistance which gravity,
friction, and many other  circumstances
make to it in its course.
  The large muscles of the arm, and of the
thigh, are soon wearied ;  a day's labour or
a day's journey  exhausts their strength ;
but the  heart  toils whole  weeks,  whole
months ; nay, years, unwearied;  is equally
a stranger to intermission  and fatigue.
  The  heart, receiving the distending and
stimulating  power of the  blood,  contracts 
43
 on it,  and in one minute,  such is its amaz-
 ing force,  it propels, says Baron  Haller,
 fifty-one pounds of blood,  through tubes
 of different dimensions, which if measured
 would extend beyond 149 feet.  In a heal-
 thy person, it contracts not much less than
 5000 times in an hour, perpetually in the
 same order, and never with fatigue.
   The pulse arises from  the dilatations,
 and contractions of the arteries, which, in
 some measure, correspond  with those of
 the heart.
   Impelled by  the aorta,  (for its  valves
 prevent the reflux into the heart) part of
 the blood shoots upwards to the head; part
 rolls through the whole body;  but how
 shall a stream divided into myriads   of
 channels,  be brought back to its  source ?
   For this purpose, the all wise Creator has
 connected the extremities  of all the arte-
ries with  the beginning of  the veins ;  so
that the same force which darts the blood
through  the former,  helps to  drive  it
through the latter. 
                   44
  The blood entering the right auricle, by
the two opposite currents of the vena cava
superior and inferior, that the streams may
not clash, a fibrous excrescence interpo-
ses, which, like a projecting  pier, breaks
the stroke of each,  and throws both into
their proper receptacle.
   Thus is the blood re-conducted to  the
great cistern, and thence played off afresh,
first through the lungs, and then through-
Out the  body.
   We see, then,  even from this imper-
fect survey, that man is a very complex
machine.
   In it, there is a peculiarity which claims
particular notice ; a power which defies all
human ingenuity and imitation, and distin-
guishes the natural from the  artificial ma-
chine.
   As our bodies are composed of flexible
materials, whereby they are  liable to re-
ceive injuries by too  rude a shock from
harder bodies, and as the humours  are also
subject to  receive  alterations from  chan-
ges of weather, irregularities in diet,  and 
                  45
other accidents, it was  needful  that  the
body, besides the power necessary for its
performing all the functions requisite in
a healthy  state,  should  be provided also
with other powers, whereby hurts and dev-
iations from a  healthy  condition, might
be amended and restored.
  Were there not such a power in the bo-
dy, we could scarcely arrive at full age, in
any other than a disfigured condition,  and
the loss of the due action of many parts.
  But our Creator has  kindly  provided,
that the body, upon any wound  received,
should supply a cement, whereby the di-
vided parts are again re-united,  or  throw
out granulations,  by which the breach is
healed up.  Thus, a broken bone is made
firm again by a callus ;  a dead part is sep-
arated and thrown off;  noxious juices are
driven out by some of the emunctories ; a
redundancy is removed by some spontane-
ous discharge ; a bleeding naturally stops
of itself; and a great loss of blood from any
cause,  is, in some measure, compensated
by a contracting power in the vascular sys- 
46
 tern, which accommodates the capacity of
 the vessels, to the quantity contained.
   Thus, the stomach gives information
 when the  supplies have  been expended;
 represents with great exactness, the quan-
 tity,  and the quality of what is wanted in
 the present state  of the machine ;  and, in
 proportion as she meets with neglect, rises
 in her demand, urges her petition with a
 louder voice, and with more forcible argu-
 ments ;  and for its protection, the animal
 body is made capable of resisting heat and
 cold in a wonderful manner, and  of pre-
 serving  an equal temperature in a burn-
 ing, and in a freezing atmosphere.
   There is a still  further excellence or su-
 periority in the natural machine, still more
 astonishing, still more incomprehensible ;
 namely, a power  to perpetuate, as well as
to preserve itself.
  A dead statue, a painted  shadow on a
canvass, or, perhaps, a little brazen clock-
work,  is the  supreme pride of the art of
man—his highest excellence and boast. 
                  47
  On the  other hand,  how  glorious and
skilful an artificer would he be  called,
could he but make two of these pieces of
clockwork,  and so contrive  the  hidden
springs and motions within them, that they
should perpetuate  their  kind, and  thus
continue the same sort of clocks, in more
than a thousand successions,  down to the
present day.
  Such is the workmanship of Go d ! Such
the amazing power of his will !  Such the
long reach of his foresight, who has long
ago guarded against all possible deficien-
cies ; who has provided energy in nature,
sufficient to replenish the world with plants
and animals to the end of time, by the won-
drous contrivance of his creation, and the
laws he then ordained.
  Not all the united powers of human na-
ture, nor  a council of the nicest artificers,
with all their ingenuity and skill, can ever
form a simple feather or a tulip : yet man
can produce a man—admirable effect, yet
artless cause! a poor limited inferior agent;
                   £ 
                   48
 the plant and the brute, in this matter, are
 his rivals and his equals too.
   The human parent, and the parent bird,
 form their own images with equal skill, but
 are confined by a kind of divine patent,
 each  to  his own work: so the iron seal
 transfers its own figure  to the wax, with
 as  much exactness and curiosity  as  the
 golden one;  either can only transfer its
 own figure.
   Perhaps there is not a lily, nor a butterfly
 in the world, but has gone through 6000
 ancestors, and yet the work of the last pa-
 rent is exquisitely perfect in shape, in  co-
 lour, and in every perfection a beauty,  but
 it is all owing to the first cause.
   " Who can know and consider," says
 the celebrated Dr. Hunter, " the thousand
 evident proofs of the astonishing art of the
 Creator,  in forming and sustaining an  an-
 imal body such as ours,  without feeling the
most pleasing enthusiasm ?"   Can we  se-
riously reflect  on this awful subject, with-
out being almost lost in adoration ? with-
out longing for another  life, afler this, in 
                      49
   which we may be gratified with the high-
   est enjoyment, which our  faculties  and
   nature seem capable of,  the  seeing and
   comprehending the whole plan of the Cre-
   ator,  in forming the animal body, and in
   directing  all  its operations ?  The man
   who is really an anatomist, yet does not see
   and feel what we have endeavoured to ex-
   press  in words, whatever  he  may be, in
   other  respects, must certainly labour under
   a dead palsy, in one part of his mind.
      Milton could look upon the sun at noon-
   day without seeing light; but the nerves of
   that organ were insensible.
     But, further, the great Creator has made
   us an invaluable present of the  senses, to
   be the inlets of innumerable pleasures, and
   the means of the most invaluable advan-
^  tages.
     The eye,  in its  elevated station, com-'
   mands the most enlarged prospects.
     Consisting only of gelatinous  fluids, en-
   closed within coats, it shews us all the grar-
   ces and glories of nature. 
50
  How wonderful,  that an image of the
hugest and widest landscape,  should enter
the small pupil !  that the rays of light
should paint on the  optic nerve—paint in
an  instant  of time—paint in the" truest
colours,  and exactest lineaments, every
species of external  objects.
  The eye is so tender, that the slightest
touch might injure the delicate frame.
  It is guarded, therefore, with peculiar
care,   intrenched  deep,   and barricaded
round with bones.
  As the smallest fly might incommode its
polished  surface, it is further  protected by
two substantial curtains.
  In sleep, when there is  no occasion for
the sense, but a necessity  to guard the or-
gans, the curtains close of their own  accord.
  At other times, if danger threaten, they
fly together as quick as thought.
  They are lined with an  extremely fine
membrane, moist with its own dew.
  Its bristly palisades ward  off the sweat
of the  brow, and moderate the too strong
impressions of the light. 
                   51
   As in our waking hours, we have almost
 incessant need for these little orbs ; they
 run upon the finest castors, rolling every
 way with the utmost ease ; which circum-
 stance, added to the flexibility of the neck,
 renders our two eyes as useful as a thou-
 sand.
   The ear consists of an outward porch,
 and an inner room.
   The  porch, somewhat prominent  from
 the  head,  is of a cartilaginous substance,
 and wrought into sinuous cavities.
   These, like circling hills, collect the wan-
 dering undulations of the air, and transmit
 them u-ith a vigorous  impulse to the finely
 stretched membrane of the drum.
   This is expanded upon a circle of bones,
 over a polished, reverberating cavity.   It
 is furnished with braces that strain or relax,
 as the sound is faint or  strong.
   The hammer, and the anvil, the winding
 labyrinth, and the sounding galleries, these
and other species of mechanism, all instru-
mental to hearing,  are inexpressively curi-
ous.
                  e 2 
52
   Amazingly acute  must be the auditory
nerves,  since  they  answer  the smallest
tremors of the atmosphere, and distinguish
their most subtile variations  when  com*
bined.
   These cords,  turned by  an  Almighty
hand, and spread  through  the echoing
chambers, receive all the impressions of
sounds, and propagate them to the brain.
   These  give existence to the charms of
music,   and  the  still  nobler charms  of
speech.*
   The eye is useless amidst  the gloom of
night; but the ear hears through the dark-
est medium.

  * The first music of the Romans came from the Etrus-
cans :  it was  rude, and without principles ; but they af-
terwards transported the Grecian music into Italy.  The
first Roman who wrote on music,  was the  famous archi-
tect, Vetruvius.
  If Greece had her Timotheus, and her Tyrreus, who
produced such great effects on their hearers,  Italy had
her Stradilla, and Palma, who also, as it is said,  did as-
tonishing things.   Stradilla, by playing on the violin, soft-
ened the heart of a villain, who intended to have murdered
him.   Palma, a Neapolitan singer, suffered himself»^ be
taken by a creditor, who came to arrest him ;  to whose
threats and injurious terms, Palma only replied by singing 
5S
   The eye is on duty only in our waking
hours  ; but the ear is always accessible.
   As  there are  concussions of the  air,
which  are  discernible only by the  instru-
ments of hearing, so there are odoriferous
particles wafted in the air, which are per-
ceivable only by the smell.
   The nostrils are wide at the bottom,  that
more  effluvia may enter ;  narrow at the
top, that when entered, they may act more
strongly.
   The streams  that exhale from fragrant
bodies, are far beyond imagination.
   Microscopes that shew thousands of an-
imals  in a drop of water,  cannot bring one
of these to our sight.   Yet so exquisite are
the  olfactory nerves, that they  arrest the
vanishing fugitives ; they imbibe all the
roaming perfumes of the spring, and make

several airs, and accompanying his vocnl powers with the
harps chord.  The credito/s anger subsided, by degrees,
and he  was, .t last, so perfectly calm, that lie not only
rem.tted the debt, but gave Palma ten pieces of gold, to
assist him to i>ay his other creditors.
    " Music has charms to sooth a savage heart,
    To  soften rocks, and bend the knotty oak." 
                   54
 us banquet even on the invisible dainties of
 nauire.
   Another capacity for pleasure, which our
 bountiful Creator has bestowed  on us, is
 the power of taste.
   This is circumstanced in  a manner so
 benignly and wisely,  as to be  a  standing
 PLEA for temperance,  which sets the fi-
 nest edge on the taste,  a(nd adds the most
 poignant relish to its enjoyment.
   To all these, as a most necessary supple-
 ment, is added the sense  of feeling.
   The crowning gift, however, which aug-
 ments  the benefits accruing  from all the
 senses, is reason.
   After having admitted, in its fullest ex-
tent, every  fair  comparison  that can  be
made, between man and the most perfect of
the other animals ;   acknowledging that
both have bodies of matter, organized in
many respects alike; that the bodies of
both are made up of bones,  muscles,  and
blood vessels ; organs  of respiration, circu-
lation,  and digestion ;  that both have brain
and  nerves, apparently of the same sub- 
                   55
 stance and texture ;  that in both, are the
 powers of will, of sensation, and of motion;
 that both  possess five senses of the same
 nature, and have a resemblance in many of
 their appetites,  and inclinations ; after all
 those concessions, the internal faculties of
 the most intelligent  of the brute creation,
 will be found,  upon a just estimation,  at
 a  prodigious distance beneath those  of
 man.
   The actions of the one seem to proceed
 from the impulse of some want, the incite-
 ment of some appetite, or some controiing
 spring within them, which obliges them to
 perform the same thing,  in the same man-
 ner; so that all their boasted works, the la-
 bours of every species, and every individ-
 ual of the species, are as uniform, as if they
 had all been cast in the same mould.  This
 appears in their nests, in their  cells ; for
 all  their  works, which astonish us,  are
formed by an  inevitable necessity, like
the  growing of a plant, or the  crystalliza-
tion of a salt. 
                  56
   One race of the most intelligent species
never improves upon a former, nor one in-
dividual upon another.
   At the end of the elephant's long life,
what does he know, that  he did not know
at the beginning ? What does the young
elephant know from  the experience of his
father ?
   Even attention to their young, the most
universal, and most  amiable part  of the
character of irrational animals, seems inde-
pendent of sentiment and reflection,  and to
proceed  from  the  same blind  impulse,
which prompts them to build such a kind
of nest, and sit such  a time on their eggs ;
for after  a  short period,  those young are
entirely neglected, and no trace of affection
or the  smallest tender recollection,  seems
any longer  to  subsist between the  parent
and the offspring.
   How different is this from the sensation
of the human species, where the father and
the mother feel  their youth restored, and
their existence multiplied  in their children,
whom thev endeavour to turn from  the al- 
                   57
 lurements of folly; and by creating in their
 minds, a desire of knowledge and useful at-
 tainments ; they save from the wretched-
 ness of vacancy and contempt,  attendant
 upon ignorance; who encourage their exer-
 tions, and support them  under disappoint-
 ments ; whose chief happiness depends on
 the prosperity of their offspring,  and who
 feel the approach of age, without sadness;
 while the evening of their lives is bright-
 ened by the rising reputation of their  chil-
 dren.
   To see a father  treating a son like  an
 elder brother, and to see a son  covet his
 father's affection,   company and conver-
 sation, because he regards him  as the most
 amiable  friend of his acquaintance,  is the
 most agreeable picture which the eye can
 behold.  It is a  transplanted  self-attach-
 ment,  as  sacred  as friendship—as pleas-
 urable as love—and as happy  as religion
 can enrich it.
  Sometimes by the  strong and harmoni-
 ous voice, man is found celebrating, in a
poem,  the virtues of a hero! 
58
   At other times,  we behold him on the
floor, in the senate of his country, support-
ing her rights, and defending her wrongs,
amidst the conflict of contending passions,
                   In the glorious cause
Of Justice, Mercy,  Liberty, and Laws.
Who calls to virtue's shrine Colnmbian youth,
And shake the senate with the voice of truth;
Rouse the dull ear, the hoodwink'd eye unbind,
And give to energy the public mind.
While rival nations, with blood unsated, wage
Wide wasting war, with fell demoniac rage,
In every clime, where army army meets,
And ocean groans beneath contending fleets,
Oh save ! Oh save !  in this eventful hour,
The tree of freedom from the AXE of power :
With fostering peace the suffering nation bless,
And guard the freedom of the immortal press.

   At other times, by a stroke of the  pencil,
he changes a dull and flat canvass, into a
charming perspective.
Hence to clear images of form belong,
To Titian's* pencil, and the  poet's song,
The  artist's landscape, and the builder'sf plan,
'Tis imitation—marks the favoured creature—
    MAN.
* Trumbul.
f Mf Combe. 
                       59

   There do we see him,  with a chisel and

graver in his hand,  imitating the marble,

and giving life to brass.*
   Here,  with   the  plummet and square,

erecting a magnificent  palace, f

  * John Baptista Tuby, called the Roman, held a distin-
guished rank among the artists in marble, who appeared
in the reign of Lewis xiv.   The mausoleum of the Vis-
count de Turenne, interred  at St. Dennis,  was desig-ned
by Le Brun, and executed by Tuby.   Immortality is seen
holding a crown with one hand, and sustaining Turenne
 with the other; Wisdom and  Virtue  standing on each
side him, the  first astonished at the fatal stroke which
 had deprived France of her hero; the other plunged  in
 astonishment.
   John Balthazer Kelly, incomparable in the art of cast-
 ing in bronze, or brass, was born at Zurich, in Switzer-
 land.  He went to  France ; where, on the  last  day  of
 December, 1692, he produced the  equestrian statue  of
 T,ewis  xiv.  which was twenty-five feet high, in a solid.
 This admirable piece of workmanship arrested the passing
 stranger, with wonder and admiration.  Indulging fancy's
 airy flight, he gave life to brass.
   We live to  hope the  period not distant, when the Gen-
 ius of  Columbia will  present a Le Brun  and a Tuby,
 to design and execute a monument, to perpetuate the
 memory of the distinguished virtues of  the  immortal
 WASHINGTON;  the patriot—the friend of man—the
father of his country ;  who has passed from us, and left
 alone, behind, his chaste example, to cheer us in the ex-
 ercise of virtue, and love of country.  His memory has a
 monument in our grateful bosoms.
   f Ancient authors allow the Egyptians to have been the
 first who built with symmetry and proportion; but Greece
                          F 
60
    Now do we behold him by the assistance
 of a microscope, of his own invention,  dis-
 covering a new worlds amidst invisible at-
 oms, or penetrating the secret exercise  and
 structure of a particular  organ.

 ought to be regarded as the birthplace of good architec-
 ture.  The best days  of  architecture, among  the  Gre-
 cians, it is said, were the age of Pericles.  Among  the
 Romans, it arrived at its highest perfection in the time of
 Augustus,, when the famous pantheon was built.  It be-
 gan to be neglected under Tiberius and Nero: was raised
 again by Trajan, and protected by  Alexander.  Severus
 could not impede  its downfal with the  Empire of the
 West; from the ruins of which,  it did not rise again for
 several ages.  It then took a new form, called Gothic ;
 which subsisted wholly, till  Charlemagne endeavoured
 to re-establish the ancient mode.  Architecture then be-
 came as much too light, as it had before been too  heavy.
 The builders, at these  times, placed their beauties on a
 delicacy, and profusion of ornaments, till then unknown;
 which taste  they received from the Arabs and Moors,
 who brought it into  France from the southern countries,.
 as the Goths and Vandals  had brought the  heavy  Gothic
 from the North.  It is only within  these two centuries,
 that the architects of England, France,  and Italy, have
 applied themselves to recover the beauty, simplicity,  and
 proportions of ancient architecture.
                Thus did great  WREN
     Fix the vast pillars of the sacred donte^
     Reared rocks on rocks, sublime.^
  Who will  prescribe limits  to the rising Genius of Co-
lumbia, in the arts and sciences ?   Or why should we
 yield  to the  ancients,  a palm which we ourselves  can-
'attain '
                f St. Paul's Cathedral 
61
    At other times, by changing this micro-

 scope into a telescope, he pierces into the
 heavens,  and there contemplates  Saturn

 and his ring.*
    Returning home, he prescribes laws to

 these celestial bodies, describes their path,
 measures the earth, and  weighs the  sun.f
    Afterwards,  directing  his  attention to-
 wards the more useful study  of organized
 beings, he dives into the laws of the anima-

 ted fibres, examines the relations of differ-


  * The celebrated Dr. Herschel, some years since, dis-
 covered a star, in regions  so remote, that no human eye
 had ever before seen it.  For this  achievement, his name-
 is recorded in the starry firmament:  this important dis-
 covery is proclaimed as far as civilization extends.
  Our illustrious countryman, David Rlttenhouse, who
 rose from a respectable watch-maker  and farmer, ac-
 quired, by his perseverance, the science of astronomy;
 and  in 1769, he was requested, by  The American Philo-
 sophical  Society, to observe the transit of Venus ;  which*
 to his honour,  he did, with surprising accuracy.  He
 succeeded the venerable  Franklin, as president of that
 society, which office he filled with high reputation.  He
 died in 1796,
  f The sublime genius of Newton enabled him to discov-*
er and unravel the mysteries of nature.  By the amazing-
 powers of his mind, he traced her through all her  opera-
 tions, and taught us to admire the greatness of the Al-
 mighty, by making us familiar with his wo:-ks. 
                    62
ent parts,  and by an  attentive view of the
various perfections, he  sees a chain which
comprehends the whole.*
   But the most perfect mark of the great-
ness of man, and his high exaltation above
other animals,  is the commerce he  holds
with his Creator.
   Wrapped in the thickest darkness, the
rest of the animal creation are ignorant of
the hand that formed them.   They enjoy
an existence, but cannot trace the Author of
life.
    Man alone soars to God, the principal of
 all existence !  prostrate at the  foot of the
 throne of the Almighty, he adores with the
 profoundest sentiments of veneration ; he
 feels the most lively gratitude towards the
 ineffable goodness of his Creator.
    " Know, then, thyself !  presume not God to scan;
    The propper study of mankind is MAN."
    * This doctrine is beautifully displayed by that first of
 anatomists and naturalists, the late John Hunter, who
 discovered also the absorbent system : we believe we may
 say it  is almost universally adopted, and, in due time,
 may be ranked the greatest discovery, both in physiology
 and pathology, that anatomy has suggested,  since the
 discovery of the circulation of the bood. 
  Circulation of t&e ^fooir.

   We will attempt, in this section of our
plan, an illustration ofthe manner in which
the crimson tide is conducted from the sal-
ient angle, the heart, through various me-
andering canals, in the vital city : which
anatomists, in their analysis of the various
departments attached to anatomy, refer to
under the term
           'SCngiofosia,
                 OR
 DOCTRINE OF THE VESSELS.

   We presume the most eligible mode of
conveying our ideas to the various classes
of readers, will be to present this impor-
tant part of the subject in the form of

            ©talosue*
   How many kinds of vessels  are there
in the human body ?
   Two ; the sanguiferdus, and lymphatic.
                f 2 
64
  How are the sanguiferous vessels  di-
vided ?
  Into arteries and veins.
  What is an artery ?
  An  artery,  is  a membranous  canal,
dividing itself into  innumerable branches,
and conveying the blood from the heart to
all the different parts of the system.
   What are the veins ?
  The   veins  are  membranous  canals,
of a conicle figure, returning the blood
from all the  different parts, to the heart.
   What are the lymphatics ?
  They are small pellucid  tubes, whose
cavities  are connected  at  small and une-
qual distances :  they are likewise called ab-
sorbents, and are found in every part ofthe
body.
   What is meant by lymph ?
   A  crystalline,  tasteless  fluid,  contain-
ed in all the  absorbent  vessels, except
the  lacteals, which convey chyle or nutri-
tious fluid into  the blood.
   What are the coats of an artery ? 
65
  Three, an external membranous,  mid-
dle muscular, and internal membranous
coat.
  What are the coats ofthe veins ?
  The same as those ofthe arteries.
  In  what respect  do  the veins  differ
from  the arteries ?
  They  are thinner and  weaker;  their
diameter is greater; there is a greater num-
ber of them, than of the arteries : they also
differ  from the arteries, in being furnished
with valves.
  What is a valve ?
  A  kind of a membrane which opens
to admit the blood to pass in one direction,
and shuts to prevent a retrograde motion.
  What  other functions do the arteries
perform,  independent of propelling the
blood from the heart, to the different parts
of the body ?
   They  secrete  the various fluids, essen-
tial to nutrition and they expel from the sys-
tem whatever may be injurious to health.
  How  do we prove that  the blood cir-
culates ? 
66
  If a wound be made in a large vessel,
the blood will continue to escape from it as
long as the heart acts : if a vein be com-
pressed by means of a ligature,  it will  be
found to swell below : if an artery be com-
pressed,  in the same way, the swelling will
be above the ligature, and no pulsation will
be felt below it.  In the tails of some ani-
mals, the blood, with a microscope of great
magnifying powers, may be seen, passing
from the extremities of the arteries into the
veins : liquors injected into the arteries af-
ter death, are returned through the veins.
  What parts of the body have a circula-
tion different from  the rest ?
  The brain, liver,  and sexual system.
  What is  the mode of circulation in the
brain ?
  The arteries, going to the  bniin, ter-
minate in the veins, as in other parts ofthe
body ; but the veins in their course  open
into sinuses, and from these sinuous veins
begin, which return the blood to the heart.
  How do  these sinuses differ from the
veins ? 
                   67
  First,  in  their  shape,  which is trian-
gular : second, their texture, which is fir-
mer : and thirdly, they have no valves.
  What is the circulation in the liver ?
  The veins which bring back  the blood
from the abdominal  viscera,  or  contents
of  the  belly,  (the  kidney,   and  sexual
system alone excepted,)  unite to form a
large trunk, called the vena portarum, or
great vein of the liver, which, after enter-
ing the  liver, becomes  divided into very
small branches, through  which the blood
destined for the secretion of bile, is con-
veyed.  These branches communicate with
the ramifications ofthe veins, which return
the blood from the liver to the vena cava j
(or principal  trunk,) so that the vena por-
tarum may perform the office of an artery.
  What is the general circulation of the
blood ?
  The blood, being brought by the veins
from the extremities of  the body, to the
right auricle,  or chamber of the heart,
by the contraction ofthe auricle, is so pro-
pelled from the right ventricle:  this  im- 
68  '
mediately contracts, and the return of the
blood into the ventricle, being  prevented
by the valvula tricuspidates, (or three poin-
ted folding,) the blood is thrown into  the
pulmonary artery, by which it is distribu-
ted through the lungs, whence it is brought
by the four pulmonary veins, to the left au-
ricle, whence it passes into the left ventri-
cle ; and then  into  the aorta,  from  the
branches of which, itis distributed through-
out the  body, and is brought back by the
veins of the right auricle.
  What  prevents the blood from return-
ing into the right ventricle, after passing
through it ?
  Three  semilunar, or half  moon  like
valves,  which are placed at the  begining
ofthe pulmonary artery.  Three valves of
the same name are placed at the commence-
ment of the aorta, (or great artery of the
body,) to prevent the blood from repassing
into the left ventricle.
  What prevents the blood from repass-
ing from  the left ventricle  into the left
auricle ? 
69
      Two valvulae  mitrales, (or mitre like
   valves.)
     Which  are the principal branches aris-
   ing from the aorta ascendens ?
     First, the  coronary arteries which  go
-   to  nourish the heart:  second,  a branch
   common to the right  carotid in the neck,
   and right subclavian,  or under tire collar-
   bone : third, left carotid :  fourth, left sub-
   clavian.   The carotids  are divided into
   external and internal;  they supply the dif-
   ferent parts of the  head with blood.
     At what place  do the carotids become
   divided into  two branches ?
     Opposite  to the larynx,  or  posterior
   parts  of the lower jaw.
     At what place does the  internal carotid
   enter  the head ?
     Through a foramen,  or passage in the
   petrous portion of the temporal,  or  tem-
  ple bone, and  is distributed to the brain
  and its membranes.
    On  what  other  parts  is  the  external
   carotid distributed ? 
                   70
  On the external parts of the head, the
larynx, pharynx,  or superior portions of
the skull, the jaws, lips, tongue, eyes, &x.
  Which are the principal branches of the
subclavian artery ?
  First, the  internal mammary, or breast:
second,  cervicle, or  neck:  third, ver-
tebral,  or spine :  and  fourthly,  superior
intercostal, or between the ribs.
  What is  the subclavian  artery called,
after it reaches the axilla, or arm-pit ?
   The axillary artery.
   What is it called,  after passing through
the axilla along the upper arm ?
   Brachial artery.
   How is  the  brachial artery  distribu-
ted after sending  off many collateral bran-
ches ?
   It is divided  at  the cubit, or elbow,
into two principal trunks,  called  the cubi-
tal, and radical arteries ; which are  felt at
the wrist: the cubital  sends off the  exter-
nal  and internal inter-ossial arteries, (or be-
tween the bones) ofthe fore-arm. 
                   71
   What are the principal branches arising
from the trunk of the aorta descendens ?
   First, the bronchial arteries attached to
the respiratory organs:  second, those of
the oesophagus, or gullet:  third, intercos-
tals, (between the ribs ;) those belonging
to the thorax, or breast.   In the abdomen,
the aorta gives off eight pair of arteries, and
three single ones which arise in the follow-
ing order.
   First, the phrenic, which go to the dia-
phragm :  second, czeliac, which divides in-
to  three branches ; the coronary going to
the  stomach ; hepatic going to the liver ;
and splenic going to the  spleen :  third, the
superior mesenteric, which is distributed to
the small intestines: fourth, the emulgents,
which carry the blood to the kidneys;  fifth,
spermatics :  sixth, the inferior mesenteric,
which is lost upon the large intestines: last-
ly, five pair of lumbar arteries ;  the aorta
then divides into the two iliacs : the iliac
artery is divided into external and inter-
nal.
                    G 
                   72
  To what parts is the internal iliac artery
distributed ?
  To the different  parts contained in  the
pelvis, or bason, which supports the con-
tents of the abdomen.
  How is the external  trunk of the iliac
continued ?
  It passes under Poupart's ligament, a-
Jong the inner part ofthe thigh : whence it
is called the femoral artery; and passes to
the ham, and is there called the popliteal
artery : in this place, it is divided into two
branches, viz.  tibialis antica, and postica,
(before and behind the shin-bone.)  The
posterior  tibial artery  sends  off several
branches.
  Which are the principal veins in the bo-
dy?
  The four pulmonary veins,  the superi-
or  and inferior cava, and the vena porta-
rum.
  By what powers is  the  blood carried
through the whole system ?
  In the arteries, it is propelled bv the ac-
tion of the heart; hy the muscular  fibres of 
                   73
their coat; and by their elasticity.   In.the
veins,  it is carried on by the same princi-
ples as in the arteries.
  Which contain the most blood during
the circulation ; the arteries, or the  veins ?
  The veins ; the proportion being as nine
to four.
  Do the veins in any part of the body ap-
pear to be endowed with muscular coats ?
  Yes :  in the cava near the heart, and in
the pulmonary veins, they are conspicuous;
and it has been proved by the experiments
of Dennison and  Verschuerius, that they
do  contract:  Harvey  has  observed, that.
the motion of the right ventricle was  the
last that ceased ; and after even this was si-
lent, Whytte observed that the vena cava
still continued to contract.
  To whom is the discovery ofthe circu-
lation  of the crimson tide justly  attribu-
ted ?
  To the immortal Willie m Harvey, who
chased away the clouds of false conclusions,
and presented the world a legacy of inval-
uable worth.  He was born at Folkstone,' 
                  74
in England, in 1578, and published the
discoveries of his vast labours in the year
1628.  He died in 1657, leaving his estate
to the college, to which he had before built
a library, museum, and combination room.
Noble patriotism!  worthy of himself, and
of imitation 1
\ 
          Recapitulation*

   This illustration presents  itself under
two points of view : first, the disposition of
the blood vessels; and, second, by the con-
struction ofthe engine for forcing the blood
through the vital city.
   First. The disposition of the blood ves-
sels, or canals, as far as regards the supply
of the body, is like that of the conduits in a
city : the large trunks branching off by
smaller tubes, and these again by still nar-
rower,  in  Cvery direction,  and  towards
every part in which the fluid they convey
can be wanted. So far the  water-pipes may
analogically  represent the  vessels which
convey the crimson tide from the heart I
   But there is another consideration  nec-
essary  to the blood, which is  not wanting
for the  water ; that is, the returning it to
its fturce.  For this purpose, a reversed
order of vessels is contrived, which uniting
at their bases  with  the extremities of the
first order or arteries,  collect  the  divided
                  c  2 
76
and  subdivided streamlets: first,  by ex-
ceeding small separating branches into lar-
ger :  secondly, by these branches into lar-
ger canals or trunks, and thus returns the
vital tide, almost exactly inverting the or-
der at which it was propelled from the sal-
ient angle.
   Our bodies, therefore, contain two com-
binations  of blood-vessels :  arteries and
veins.   Between the constitution  of the
systems, there are also differences, suited
to the functions which the systems exer-
cise.  The vital fluid, in sallying out, pass-
es always from wider into narrower tubes;
and in returning home, from narrower into
wider.
   The arteries are cautiously defended and
secured from injury, not only by their tex-
ture, but by their situation ; and every ad-
vantage which can be given them.   They
are deeply  intrenched,  or creep along
grooves, formed for them in the bones, for
instance, the  under  edge of each  rib is
sloped and  furrowed,  for the passage  of
these vessels.  Sometimes they proceed in 
77
channels, protected by  stout parapets on
each side, which last is remarkable  in the
bones  of  the fingers :  at other times the
arteries pass in canals, wrought in the very
substance, and in the middle  of the sub-
stance of a bone ; this takes place  in the
lower jaw, and is  found where there  would
otherwise be danger of compression, by
sudden curvatures, as in the spine, or back.
This care is wonderful, yet not more so than
what the importance of the case required !
   Second.  Our  next consideration  will
embrace  a few  thoughts on  the  engine
which works this  machinery:  viz. the
heart.   It is not necessary here to  review
the principle  upon  which it acts;  but  to
inquire how a power is applied in the  in-
stance before us.
   The heart is a hollow muscle, occupy-
ing the central part of the body, invested
with spiral fibres, running in opposite di-
rections, the layers intersecting each other.
By the contraction of these fibres, the sides
ofthe muscular cavities necessarily squeeze
together, so as to force out from them the 
78
fluid which they may contain: by the relax-
ation of the same fibres, the cavities are in
their turn diiated, and,  of course, prepar-
ed to admit the fluid which may be poured
into them.   Into these cavities are inserted
the great trunks, (or canals) both ofthe ar-
teries  which carry out  the blood, and  of
the veins which return  it.*
   This general detail of the apparatus con-
nected  for  circulating  the vital  fluid, is
the most lively idea of  its  action ; that by
each contraction,  a  portion of blood is
forced,  as by a syringe, into the arteries,
and at  each  dilatation, an equal portion
is received  by the veins.
  Of those who venture their lives on board
a ship,  it is often asserted,  that a plank is

  w The aorta,  or principal artery of a whale, it is said,
is larger in  the area, than the main pipe ofthe water-
works at London-bridge : the water roaring in that pipe,
is inferior in impetus and velocity, to the blood gushing
from the heart of this monstrous animal.
  D*\ Hunter's account ofthe dissection of a whale says,
" the aorta measured a foot in diameter ; and that ten or
fifteen gallons  of blood are forced out ofthe heart at a
stroke,  with an immense velocity. 
                   79
the  wall of  partition  between  life  and
death;  but in the body, especially in the
arterial  system,  there  is,  in many parts,
only a membrane!—a film !—a thread!
   An  elegant  writer (Hamberger) says,
" the wisdom of the Creator is in nothing
seen more  gloriously  displayed,  than  in
the heart."   How well  does it perform its
function! notwithstanding the complexity
of  its   mechanism,  and the  delicacy  of
many of its parts, it might be supposed
to be liable to derangement;  yet shall this
wonderful engine labour night and day>
for eighty years, at the rate of a hundred
thousand  srokes in twenty-four  hours,
having, at every stroke, a great resistance
to surmount, and still  continue its action
for this period, without  disorder,  or  fa-
tigue ! 
                  IKE
DIFFERENT CLASSES IN ANIMATED NATURE.


   There are  six  classes:  viz. animals
having the

Heart  furnished! Viviporous-Mamma-
with two ventri-  j     f.
cles and auricles.  ^>
Blood warm and  I ^  .         -r,. ,
   ,              i Oviporous—Birds.
red.            j    *

One ventricle  1 TJ^er-.ir-a+^n ~>
               Respiration ; A   hibk>
              >voluntary,  3
Breathing by gills, Fishes.
and auricle.
Blood cold
and red.
One ventricle }
with one  au- > Antennated—Insects.
ricle.        )
Saines cold   )
and colour-   > Tentaculated—Vermes.
less.         3
  The number we present of each class of
animals, are,
1 Mammalia, affording milk, ...  53
2 Aves, or the feathered tribe,  .   . 195
3 Amphibia, partaking of two elements, 25
4 Pisces,  or fishes,......79
5 Insects,........1692
6 Vermes, or worms,.....198 
                   81
  Having presented the Plan, with the no-
ble Elevation attached to it, and directed a
character to the varied departments in the
ANIMAL ECONOMY to show the whole
a complete masterpiece of creating skill; let
us in the next place, reflect on, and consid-
er the manner in which the latent vital prin-
ciple  is nourished and excited into action,
and the means by which it affords a constant
evolution of

          Animal feat.


   It is worthy of observation, that men, in
a living state, together with the other sub-
jects belonging to the class mammalia, as
well as the whole feathered race, are distin-
guished from the rest of the animal king-
dom  by this peculiarity,  that  the native
heat of their bodies far exceeds, in degrees
of temperature, the usual heat ofthe medi-
um or element, in which they live.  With
respect to man himself, it  is, however, to
be remembered, that he appears to be in- 
82
ferior in the  heat of his system, to those
other kinds of animals we have just men-
tioned.   Thus, in our climate, the heat of
the human body generally stands at about
the  96th degree of  Fahrenheit's  scale ;
whereas, in other animals belonging to the
class mammalia, the vital temperature very
considerably  exceeds this  point, while it
ascends  still  higher  in  individuals  ofthe
feathered tribes.
   The degree of native heat possessed by
a healthy person,  is so constant and uni-
form, that, in general, (provided we make
allowance for the state of health peculiar to
each individual)  its range will  include but
a very few degrees  of  the thermometer,
whether the subject be exposed to the in-
clemencies of the most  rigorous  climate,
or placed beneath the fervors of a tropical
sky ; for the opinion formerly delivered by
Boerhaave, that man has not  a  power of
existing in a  medium of such a  nature as
exceeds, in temperature, the native heat of
his own body, has, since the famous obser-
vations of that illustrious traveller, and for- 
                   83
mer governor of Georgia, H.  Ellis,  been
refuted bv a great number  of characters,
learned in the science of physiology, and the
reverse completely  demonstrated  and es-
tablished by experiments  well adapted to
the nature  of the subject.   In this particu-
lar, indeed, appears to consist one  of the
great prerogatives of man ; that imprison-
ed and confined to no one climate, or  zone
of the earth, he is  able to pass  his life in
any section of the  immense globe  we in-
habit, and is free to fix his habitation ei-
ther beneath the rigours of Hudson's stor-
my region, where the quicksilver sinks in-
to a state of  complete congelation; or in
the bosom of those glaring solar  fires,
which scorch the  glowing  shores  of the
Senegal.
   Many hypotheses were advanced by the
ancients,  to  account  for the origin and
source of  that astonishing fire which mi-
nutely pervades our bodies, and uniformly
supplies them with the necessary  degrees
pf warmth ; but their opinions were envel-
oped  in  obscure  conclusions,  until that
                    H 
84
justly  celebrated  character, J.  Mayow,
sketched out the leading traces  and first
great outlines of  this doctrine,  which in
our time has been greatly improved.  ThQ
lungs are now justly considered as the fo-
cus, orfire-place, where animal heat is gen-
erated, and the dephlogisticated part of the
air, which we breathe, the fuel that supports
the vital flame.   This doctrine  has  been
greatly  extended, and  further  elucidated
by the labours of the illustrious Crawford,
who appears to be the first who attempted
to ascertain, by  direct experiments,  the
cause of animal  heat,  as depending upon
the air.
   Modern  chymistry  assumes  to  itself,
the discovery of the origin of animal heat,
which is supposed to depend on those chan-
ges in the ingesta, or food, which the func-
tions of life are always  producing, among
the breathing animals: the principal of
these changes, is occasioned by the lungs,
on the atmospheric air, which they inhale;
and respiration is considered as the princi-
pal source  of the heat  of this class of ani- 
85
mals.  That the oxygen (or vital air) con-
tained in the atmosphere, furnishes the lar-
gest proportion of the pabulum (or proven-
der) of life, is now scarcely doubted ; res-
piration being a process in which it passe*
from its  gaseous to  its concrete state;
giving out a portion of the heat it held in-
vapour, in the same manner as steam,  in its
conversion into water, gives out a portion
of its heat; the heat then extricated, being
conveyed, by the circulation, to all parts of
the body, is the principal means by which
the whole is warmed and animated. 
Between Animal Life, and the Burning of
a Lamp:  concluding  with an  allegorical
illustration ofthe diseases of old age extin-
guishing the lamp of life.

   If an animal be placed in the exhausted
receiver of an air pump, it quickly expires ;
in similar circumstances, a burning lamp
goes out—If an animal be not supplied with
fresh air, it dies, and its heat is extinguish-
ed ; so it is with the lamp—The air breath-
ed by animals is diminished in quantity ; so
it is by the burning ofthe lamp—A certain
quantity of air supports an animal a certain
time, but no longer ; so it will keep up the
flame of the lamp, for a certain  time only.
The air in which a lamp has burnt out, de-
stroys animal life ; so the  air that the ani-
mal hath breathed, puts out the lamp—
Fixed, azotic, and inflammable airs destroy
animals; so likewise do they extinguish the
temp. 
                   87
   A  living animal, and a burning lamp,
therefore  exactly agree in requiring the
same kind of air to support them, and in
producing the same effects upon the air to
which they are exposed.
   But they do not resemble each other on-
ly in producing  heat, and requiring the
same kind of air ; for if an animal hath not
fresh  supplies of food, as well as air, after
-a certain time it dies,  and becomes cold;
just in the same manner as the lamp dies,
if not duly supplied with oil  or nutri-
ment                                s
H 2 
                  88

             <©lo 3d0e,
  Commences with the aberrations of the
mind.   Perceptions  are  less lively in old
men; the ideas and images of things are
confounded,  and  the  memory  decays;
whence the intellectual faculties must nec-
essarily lose their strength or power by de-
grees.  Cicero says, that reason is the light
and splendour of life.  Thus, the faculties
of the mind decaying,  may be compared
to the luminaries of the  world obscured.
              INFANCY.
   The morning of life has  its peculiar
 charms;  and every feeling heart knows
them  to  be irresistible : innocence, help-
lessness, playfulness, freshness of constitu-
tion, and of colour, with the consideration,
 that it  is advancing to  maturity, all con-
 spire to recommend this  period of life to
 our  love, by  suggesting a thousand  de-
lightful ideas.
   Although, with some, the last period of
 life, like the evening sky,  is often distin-
 guished by a lustre, not dazzling, indeed,
 nor ardent, like the splendour of noon, but 
89
'no less pleasing to a contemplative  mind.
A fresh old age,  with  cheerfulness,  good
sense,  and an  approving  conscience,  are
the most venerable  of all terrestrial attain-
 ments.
  "The age worn fibres, goaded to contract,
By repetition, palsied, cease to act;
When time's cold hands the languid senses seize,
Chill the dull nerves, the lingering currents freeze :
Orsjpnic mi't'er, unreclaim'd by life,
Reverts to elements by chymic strife."
"Hope humbly then, with trembling pinions soart
Wait the great teacher, death, and God adore." 
    ANALOGICAL VIEW
              OF
PLANTS AND ANIMALS.
PART I.
   Created nature, by successive seeds,
 with the assistance of the elements, modi-
 fies earth into vegetables, vegetables into
 animals;  perhaps, not contrariwise, she
 decomposes  them  each again into earth,
 in a perennial circle.
   Vegetables have life, without voluntary
 motion: they are commonly divided into
 three tribes.
   The nations which have  supplied this
 conflux of inhabitants, are, principally,

                PALMS.
   Princes.  Vegetables of India; eminent
for their prodigious height; beautiful  for
their  unvaried, simple,  perennial  stem ;
crowned with an  evergreen tuft of leaves ;
enriched with  the choicest  treasures  of
fruit.   They are tributary to the first order 
                   91
of animals; in particular, to  the  prince,
their inhabitant.

              GRASSES.
   Plebians.  Plants of the field ; rustics ;
the most common,  the  most simple,  and
the most  tenacious of life  ; constituting
the multitude and strength of the  vegeta-
ble kingdom : and which,  the more they
are taxed and  trod upon, the more they
multiply.   These are tributary, for  their
vile beards,  to almost all herbivorous ani-
mals ;  and  by their harvest in particular,
to the  prince, their  inhabitant.

               LILIES.
   Patricians.   Luxurious  inhabitants  of
groves; bulbous rooted plants;  display-
ing their  shining, festive garments,  they
amuse the eye,  and adorn  the vegetable
kingdom,  with the splendour of courts.

               HERBS.
   Nobles.  Meadow plants;  annual;  of
many forms; they enrich the kingdom of 
92
•vegetation,  by their admirable structure,
 variety of  tastes,  fragrant  odours, and
 gorgeous colours.

                TREES.
   Highnesses, of the  order of nobility.
 Inhabitants of the woods ;  perennial, as to
 their stock ; surrounded with  servants at
 their feet, and supporting destructive par-
 asites ; they erect their heads, resist  the
 winds, overshadow the sultry, moisten the
 the  day with invisible showers, allure the
 birds,  and  present  their fruit,  like  so
 many orchards of nature.

              SOLDIERS.
   Plants. Armed with thorns, or prickles :
 from both ofthe last  kinds, they repel the
 attacks ofthe mammalia,  or first class of
 animals.

          NEW COLONISTS.
   Ferns.   Plants of obscurity, supported
 on  stipes,  with  seeds on  their  backs ;* 
                   93
poor: these prepare  the  earth  for  their
successors.

               MOSSES.
   Servants.  Plants of the winter;  him-,
gry;  occupying,  in immense  numbers,
all the places relinquished by the former :
these protect the roots of other plants, lest
they  should be injured  by  the frosts;
the  summer heats;  the  vicissitudes of
spring; or the  putridity of autumn ; and
collect,  for  the benefit of others, the nu-
tritive soil.

                FLAGS.
   Slaves.   Plants  which love the water ;
 squalled ;  revivescent;  abstemious ; al-
most naked.   These begin the first veg-
etation in uncultivated plains.

             FUNGUSES.
   Vagabonds.   Plants of the autumn;
barbarous ;  naked;  putrescent;  rapac-
ious ; voracious.  These, at  the fall of
the  leaf, are supported by the recrements
of other plants. 
94
  The organization of vegetables consists
of,  first, vessels  circulating  fluids—sec-,
ond, vessels containing air—third, secre-
tory vessels ;  and probably absorbents.
  The substance which embraces the pith,
consisting of  a cellular  cuticle,  or skin;
externally  covering the bark, deposits  on
its interior side the rind,  and is converted
annually into rigid wood.
  Our admiration is elevated in an aston-
ishing manner, when we  contemplate the
multitude and variety  of plants, spread by
the fertile hand of nature, over the vast sur-
face of the habitable globe ; not so much
to adorn  and embellish it, as to preserve
to man and other animals, both  life and
health.
  What arrests  our inquiry, then, is the
nature and structure of plants, vegetable
life with their maladies, &c.
  A plant is an organized body,  which is
merely vegetative, and nourishes itself  in-
ternally ;  grows, and propagates bodies of
the same species, without a power capable
of moving, or feeling.  Thus we  observe 
                   95
in plants,  organs fit for receiving, prepar-
ing, filtering, and circulating  fluids,  but
none which seem destined for motion or
sensation.
  The  microscope  discovers  in wood a
great number of small pores,  disposed in
an annular,  and orderly manner.   The se-
cretory vessels are  almost oval, forming
several ranges horizontally, in proportion
to the axis  of the plant, and united against
each other.
  From the fibres and vessels horizontally
interwoven, result the bark, (which is anal-
ogous to the skin otanimals) the wood, and
pith.  The bark is composed of  a pellicle,
or  tissue  of fibres,  air,  and  secretory
vessels, which are inserted into the  wood.
and the pith, or  marrow  comprises, as it
were,  a  collection of  vesicles,  consider-
ably like those of the solids.
  Hence arise the roots, trunk, buds, bran-
ches, leaves, flowers, fruit, seed, and shoots.
The roots are the  fibres fitted  for, it  is
supposed,  absorbing  the juices  from the
                    i 
                  96
earth : if so, these are analogous to the ab-
sorbent  vessels in animals : the nutritive
part of an animal's food is taken up by the
lacteals ofthe intestinal tract, and transmit-
ted  into the system for the support and
growth of animal life.   Spallanzini, in an
elegant allegory asserts, " man is an invert-
ed Tree."
   The trunk is that part which arises from
the  roots, to the  extremities and  foliage,
ordinarily in the form  of a cylinder : the
branches are a sort of young plants, grow-
ing out  of the trunk :  the leaves are pro-
ductions of the fibres of the branches or of
the trunk; and are expanded primarily in a
small degree ; then undergo a further ex-
tension,  from a plane  to the circumference.
   The flowers are  almost like  the leaf, a
 contexture  of fibres,  which proceed from
the solid parts, but finer, and according to
the texture  and arrangement ofthe leaves:
 a Rose, a Carnation, or a Pink  is the
product.
   The fruit which is seen to grow ordinari-
 ly in the middle ofthe flower, contains the 
                   97
seed, or grain : and what is trfis grain ?  It
is a plantule, ready to be evolved.
 The nutritive juices of plants are earths,
oils, salts, &c. but more especially water.
Different sorts of plants afford these princi-
ples in distillation: and it is well  known,
that water contributes to  their  growth.
For,  if in winter we set over a chimney-
piece a glass vessel,  full of water,  and in-
sert upon the surface of  it  any  bulbous
root, such as a  hyacinth,  tulip,  jonquil,'
&c. the heat of the atmosphere in the . oom,
is communicated to the water, an agitation
is produced in the particles  of the fluid by
which it penetrates the fibres of the roots,
and excites vegetation; the  radicles first
descending,  the stalk ascending,  we  are
presented,  in a short  period,  with  the
fragrant nosegay.
  To prove that water is the pabulum, or
provender  of vegetables,   Van  Helmont
took two hundred pounds of earth, dried in
an oven, and watered it: he then placed in
it a willow which weighed five pounds : he
closed  this earth on all sides, in a vessel 
                   98
which had small perforations  for the ad-
mission of air, and watering it frequently,
at the end of five years, the willow weigh-
ed five hundred and sixty five pounds : the
earth,  after it was dried, lost two ounces.
       Duhamel de Corporum affectionabus, page 52.
  This then, is manifest, that the moisture
alone nourished the plant, and the  earth
was the sponge, to retain it.  We shall ad-
duce another experiment  in confirmation
of the"? above: let eight  or ten pounds of
earth be placed in a vessel; three or four
hundred plants may sip nutrition in this
earth, and  in the  rain which may descend.
This quantity of earth, with water intim-
ately united,  would not be sufficient to fur- -
nish nutrition to so great a  number of
plants; it  would be  necessary that the
whole mass weighed, at least, four or five
hundred pounds ; and yet it would scarcely
weigh twenty :  hence  different sorts of
plants are nurtured with the same fluid.
   These principles being admitted, we are
led to review the growth of plants.   The
plantule having in its seed, (at  least ordin- 
                     9$
 arily) the radicle, trunk, leaves, pulp, or
 flesh, which surround it, is separated into
 two lobes, united by a delicate fibre, to the
 extremity ofthe radicle and trunk;  the nu-
 tritive juices are agitated by gravity, their
 action proper to fluidity, and by the elas-
 ticity of the  air which surrounds it,  a pecu-
 liar fermentation is  excited  in  the seed,
 penetrates the pulpy matter, shoots out in-
 to fibres and roots, and from the trunk in-
 to the leaves, enveloped into  small mass-
 es,  insensibly, or almost so, evolve the
 leaves, roots, &c.
   In the first stages of vegetable life,  wa-
 ter is a source of delicate nutriment to the
 plantule,  until it hath produced  radicles,
 capable of receiving and digestrng grosser
fluids;  so in the  first stages  of infancy,
milk is the proper food of the young ani-
mal,  till  that period when a power to di-
gest a grosser aliment arrives.
  A  question  presents, why the roots de-
scend into the earth,  while the stalk arises
from it ?   This seems a sort of affecta-
                  i2 
                  100
tion :  the root bows itself in order to de-
scend, while the trunk forms an angle to
ascend.
   Six acorns were planted with their points
upwards,  as perpendicular as possible : in
two months  after, on removing the earth
from them, it was found that the roots had
made an angle to descend ; as if they had
been  sensible of the fraud of the botanist.
What, then,  gives  to the root and  stalk
these kinds of opposite directions ?
   It is probable, that the  pores and fibres
of the roots are  greater than those  of the
trunk ; since the roots are considered as
the stomach ofthe  plants, in which the
grosser  fluids  are digested.  Wherefore,
when the nutritive juices circulate from the
roots into the tender plant, through the fi-
brous ducts, which unite it to the  pulp,
the grosser, from the laws of gravitation,
pass  into the roots, and the more volatile
into the trunk ; which, having ascended in-
to the air, meets no resistance to its eleva-
tion.  On the contrary, the roots, in pro-
portion as they descend, always encounter 
101
great resistance, to  their motion down-
wards.
  The pith of  plants is analogous to the
marrow of animals ;  and is a collection of
small vesicles which seem destined to fil-
ter and elaborate a volatile juice,  for the
nourishment of the plant, flower, and fruit.
  We may  reasonably  presume that the
sap, in order to its being elaborated more
firmly circulates in plants as the blood does
in animals.   For,  if the  sap ascends or de-
scends, it circulates.   When the trunks of
two trees join their roots together, so that
the juice of the one passes into that of the
other, if we separate the trunk of the one in
the month of February, two feet below the
union of the trunks,  the lateral branches
which are below the contact of the barks,
send forth small branches and leaves in the
following spring, as well as those  above ;
and as much so as if they received nutri-
tion from the sources of the parent stock.
Hence, they must  receive, by this con-
junction,  a fluid which  descends from the
extremities  towards the  root, after hav- 
102
ing ascended from the roots towards the
branches.
   f he  ligneous fibres  convey  the more
volatile fluids towards  the branches : the
utriculae bring back the juices towards the
roots, which are not yet sufficiently diges-
ted, and the trachea  furnishes air, which
iacilitates the circulation ofthe vital fluid.
 
PART II.
        REPRODUCTION,
                AND
FRUITFULNESS OF PLANTS.
   The  lap of nature presents us a pleas-
ing variety of plants and flowers, which ma-
ny admire for nothing more than the grat-
ification of sight, or fragrance.   The vir-
tu osso dwells on the rich structure and ele-
gance of a plant, its foliage and splendid,
variegated tints : but the philosopher de-
lights in a more noble banquet:  he  inves-
tigates  the reproduction  and fruitfulness
of the maniiUd  families in the vegetable
creation.
  We have endeavoured to illustrate the
origin &c. of plants; and have discovered
that the fruit includes the seed; and that
the seed envelopes a plantule, already for-
med,  by the benign  hand of nature,  for
perpetuating the species.
   Our inquiry here leads to the constitu-
ent parts of flowers ;  and  concludes with 
                . 104
some deductions  referable to the analogy
of plants and animals.
  The constituent parts of flowers, at least
the greatest part,  have their  petals, calix,
stiles, stamina, and summits.  The  calix
seems to envelope the sexual system ofthe
flower :  the petals, or leaves, are parts ex-
panded, and situated about the germinating
principle :  the pistillum is a tube which
arises from the bottom and  middle of the
petals :  the  stamina are fibres that spring
from the base ofthe flowers, and terminate
in different conformations, which are term-
ed  summits.
   The tulip, for  example, is composed of
 six petals, or leaves ;  from the base and
middle of these arises a small tube :  this is
the pistillum;  around  which some very
fine fibres are disposed,  which also grow
out of the base of the flower ; these are the
stamina.
   The summits of the stamina  are cap-
sules, or vesicles, which, in their maturity,
expand, and transmit a father dust, of  dif-
 ferent  configuration, accordant to the var-
 ied families of the plant.  Hence, the fari- 
105
na of the summits renders plants fertile ;  it
being wafted by the gentle undulations of
the atmospliere descends  upon the vital
spark which contains the fruit, and is there
diluted;  penetrates the  substance of the
pistillum, and,  after a short period, produ-
ces a fermentation, capable of inducing the
embriotic  plant contained  in the seed to
burst into vegetable life.
  As the  inhabitants of the ocean are dif-
ferent from those of the land,  so has  it
plants different  from those ofthe earth.  A-
mong the aquatic plants, some have leaves,
others want them.   The greater part have
no apparent roots, but vegetate on hard bo-
dies ; such as  rocks  and shells, to which
they are attached by a small and  polished
base.   These plants without  roots are  so
organized, that their whole surface may be
considered as capable of absorbing  nutri-
tion, by an infinity of porous ducts.   Ma-
rine plants being thus surrounded by the
waters which nourish them, possess an as-
semblage of small glands, which filter and
separate  from it, the lacteous, and glutin-
ous particles. 
         PART  III.
DISEASES OF PLANTS.
   The most precious and singular plants
have maladies,  analogous to the maladies
of animals, in the course of their vegetable
existence.
   Plants  are  indisposed,  when   healthy
fluids are not circulated into their different
organs : under such  circumstances, they
become languid: this languor  is derived
from  several sources; first, an excess or
defect of the nutritive fluid ; or, second-
ly, the malignity ofthe fluids, or external
violence.
   The same causes excite similar effects
in animals.  Excessive repletion has pro-
duced a rupture ofthe vessels, and danger-
ous effusions.  The  juices inspisated in
the vessels, for want of velocity and circu-
lation, are obstructed, and congest.  The
fluids  which ascend penetrate and gradu-
ally possess the trachea;  which is,  as it
were, the lungs of plants ; and  arrests the 
                   toy
 action of the air, free circulation is inter-
 cepted, and the plant sickens and dies.
   Secondly. Defect of fluids^produces the
 same  result.   If a great quantity of them
 is evaporated by transpiration, during the
 heat of a summer's day, if none arise to re-
 pair the depletion, the vessels become desti-
 tute of nutrition; collapse, lose their vitali*
 ty, and become incapable of receiving new
juices : hence the plant sickens,  languish-
 es, and often expires—of consumption.
   Thirdly.  The malignity of juices pro-
 duces languor, and oftentimes the disso-
lution of plants, by  decomposing their or-
gans.  Lime-water, or water of compost,
and hot beds, too  strong,  cauterize the
tender fibrils of the roots,  from  an ex-
cess of their  corrosive salts.   If the  juic-
es are too viscous, they inspissate, and be-
come  fixed:  they  cannot circulate, nor
afford  sufficient  nutrition  to  the  young
embryo, in order to evolve ; and a plant,
far from producing fruit, famishes from a
want of nurture, which conveys life into its
constitution.
                    K 
108
  Fourthly. The fertility of plants is some-
times the  cause  of their diseases ; plants
too fertile are of less duration than others.
  Fifthly.  External violence, which caus-
es maladies in vegetation are wounds, frost,
heat,  insects, parasitical plants, &c. &c.
  Wounds are hurtful, and even  prove
mortal, to plants ; as cutting the roots, di-
vesting the bark, or otherwise destroying
the ligneous parts, so that the covering on-
ly remains, the fluids cannot circulate.
  Frost expands the juices, which it  des-
troys ;  and rends asunder  the fibres of
plants.   Heat  agitates the fluid, violently
attenuates and  dilates the pores of plants,
and compels the fluids to escape, by its im-
moderate  action.  In  animals, heat ex-
hausts the living principle, by the too pow-
erful stimulus;   hence  they  frequently
sicken,  languish, and lose their vigour.
   Hail bruises the fibres ofthe foliage, and
extravasates the juices ; contusions in ani-
mals produce similar effects.
   Insects, by their nipping, create tumours
upon plants;  this  is followed by an ef- 
                   109
fusion ; the fluids escaping, penetrate the
adjacent parts, where it is congested into a
mass, dilates the fibres, and enlarges their
capacity with concretions.
   Parasitical plants  are frequently more
pernicious than  the  pinching  of insects.
Those live at the expense of others, as the
moss and mistletoe tribes; they are  real
plants,  the  roots of which ingraft them-
selves into  the bark of trees,  extract the
juices, and steal nutrition;  and, by these
means, debilitate,  exhaust, and frequent-
ly destroy their protector.
   The mould which appears in damp pla-
ces, on the  long neglected covering of a
book, are small plants, of the species  of
moss, which moisture excites to vegetate;
and which, when brought to the bar of the
microscope,  discover,  in appearance,  so
many meadows, adorned  with flowerets.
   The seeds of parasitical plants are ex-
tremly minute:  the winds  waft them cas-
ually upon walls, roofs, and trees, where>
being hospitably received, they vegetate. 
                  110
   Plants are provided with remedies indis
eases; so are animals : gentle incisions di-
minish  excess of fluid;  bleeding diverts
repletion : remove a portion of earth which
conceals the roots, the air has  more free-
dom of access to them ; invigorates the
plants, and a greater quantum of juices is
absorbed.  Mould and manure excite fer-
mentation, and furnish materials, that un-
lock the torpid fibres, restore them to their
former vigour, and remedy the  mischief.
   A wounded tree is not always without
a  remedy: if by accident, or  otherwise,
the arm of a tree is broken,  and the bark
not wholly separated, uniting  the parts,
and applying a retentive  bandage, check
the vital fluid from escaping, and prevent
the air from dissipating  the  humours ; it
reuniting, the  injured part is  restored, and
the fracture relieved. 
               SEQUEL.

   It is curious to observe how the animal
 and vegetable families mutually support
 each other, through their whole existance.
 Vegetables, by emitting  vital air during
 the day, purify the  atmosphere, for the use
 of man and animals, while the fixed air ex-
 pired by animals,  affords  nourishment to
 vegetables; but at the time when  the diffu-
 sive stimulus  is less wanting, sleep being
 necessary, the vegetable race pours forth
 azotic air.
  It was  Dr.  Priestly who discovered, in
 1772, that plants emitted vital air, and ab-
 sorbed fixed air ;  for which discovery, he
received the thanks of the royal  society,
in an elegant speech delivered by the pres-
ident.  "  From your  discoveries," says
Sir John Pringle,  " we are assured, that no
vegetable  grows in vain, but that  from the
oak of the forest,  to the grass in the field,
every  individual  plant is serviceable to
mankind:  if not always distinguished by
                   k 2 
112
 some medicinal virtue,  yet making a part
 of the whole which cleanses and purifies
 our atmosphere.  In this, the fragrance of
 the rose,  and deadly  nightshades  co-op-
 erate ;  nor is the herbage, or wood, that
 flourishes in the most remote and unpeopled
 regions unprofitable to us;  nor we to them,
 considering how constantly the winds con-
 vey to them the fixed air issuing from our
 lungs,  while they exchange vital air for
 us."
    Mr. Shoele having made  some experi-
 ments  diametrically opposite  to this posi-
 tion,  Doctor  Priestly employed a  whole
  summer to repeat his former experiments;
  and perceived, that upon  many occasions,
\azotic  air was given out, but confesses he
 could not  discover the causes of this cir-
  cumstance.
    This laurel was reserved to decorate the
  brow of the laborious  and ignenious Dr.
  Ingenhouz, physician to her Imperial Maj-
  esty.
    He first shewed, that the trunk and foli-
  age of plants gave  out vital air only in the 
                   113
■presence of light.   Hence,  if you  put a
plant in water, in an inverted tumbler, and
expose it to the rays of the  sun, in a few
minutes, air will be extricated, and, upon
examining, will be found to be the purest
vital air : or if successive plants be  put in
azotic air, it will be so ameliorated, that
 combustion may be supported in it,  and it
 will possess the nature, and most probably,
 the same indentity as common air ;  or if a
 plant be exposed, under these circumstan-
 ces, to inflammable air,  it will form a truly
 explosive  air.  This philosopher,  at the
 same time, discovered,  that in the absence
 of light, not vital, but azotic and fixed airs
 were given out;  and that even during the
 sunshine flowers,  roots and ripe fruits al-
 ways produced this deleterious air.
    Hence he taught us the true relation we
 stand in with regard to the vegetable race ;
 and he has also extended these curious and
 beautiful  researches,  by ascertaining the
 different proportions of vital air to the azo-
 tic air in different situations ;  and has de- 
114
monstrated, that in a given quantity of at-
mospheric air, there is more vital air, in the

country than  in cities ;  and more near the

sea than in land.
   With  what  wonderful economy, then,
has the Supreme Architect established this
reciprocal intercourse between  the  animal
and vegetable kingdoms ! By wThat elegant
simplicity of design, are the different parts

of nature thus rendered at once subservi-
ent to the mutual  support  of each  other,
respectively, and to the general well being

and harmony of the whole.


    " Not every  plant'in every soil will grow,
   The willow loves the wat'ry ground, and low;-
   The marshes alder :  nature seems t'ordain
   The rocky cliff for the -wild ash's reign,.
   The baleful jew to northern blasts resigns,
   To  shores the myrtle and to mounts the vines."
                                  VIRGIL.- 
ART AND NATURE
CONSIDERED AND CONTRASTED.
   Before we dismiss our pages  on the
 Animal Economy,  we  shall proceed to
 examine the most exquisite performances
 of human art, and contrast them with the
 productions of nature: a parallel  which
 must humble the pride of man, by present-
 ing  him a more reasonable and  modest
 view of himself: and, at the same time,
 conduce towards the improvement of our
 imperfect conceptions ofthe supreme Gov-
 ernor of the universe.
   We receive, through the medium of a
 good microscope, all the intelligence neces-
 sary to direct our attention to these grand
objects.  If the edge of a very sharp razor
be examined with this valuable discoverer
of truth, we shall perceive it to be as broad
 as the back of a knife;  rough,  full  of
indentations;   and  so unlike  any thing 
116
keen, that an instrument as blunt as this ap-
pears would not even serve to cleave wood.
                       Hook's Micrography.
  The point of an exceeding small needle
being  examined, appears above a quarter
of an inch in breadth ;  not round, nor flat;
but  irregular and unequal:  and the sur-
face, though extremely smooth and polish-
ed to the naked eye,  seemed full of rag-
gedness :  in short,  it resembled an iron
bar, from a smith's forge.
             P/iilosopical Transactions, No. 324.
   A small  piece of exceeding fine  linen
appeared, from the large spaces between
its threads, somewhat like a hurdle, or lat-
tice ; and the threads as coarse as the yarn
used in making ropes.
   Some delicate Brussels lace appeared as
if made of a thick,  uneven hair-line, en-
twisted,  fastened, and matted together, in
a very awkward and  unartful  manner.
   The web of a silkworm, being thus ex-
•amined,  appeared perfectly  smooth and
 shining ;  every way equal, and much finer
 than any thread the best spinster can boast 
                  117
of:   or  as the  smallest twine  is  finer
than the cable-rope.   A  pod of this silk,
wound  off,  contains nine  hundred  and
thirty yards; and as two threads  are con-
nected,  it is a double line, equal to eigh-
teen hundred and sixty yards ;  which be-
ing weighed with  rigid exactness,  was
found no heavier than  two grains and a
half
             Philosophical Transactions,  No. 324.
   What an exquisite fineness is here!  and
yet  this is nothing when compared with
the web of a spider.
   The  most  exquisite  writing,  such as
the Lord's prayer within the compass of
a  silver  sixpence,  executed  by an  able
master of the art, when brought for vard
for examination, presents a shapeless  and
uncouth product,  as if written  in rustic
characters.
   But the small  specks on the wings or
bodies of moths, beetles, flies, and other
insects, are  found, when examined, to be
most accurately circular, and all  the other
lines and marks about them regularly and 
118
  finely drawn, to the utmost possibility of
  exactness.
    These are some of the most  curious
  and surprising works  of art:  but let us
  examine  them with a microscope, and we
  shall immediately be  convinced, that the
  utmost power of art is only a concealment
  of deformity ; an imposition on our sense
  of  vision;  and that our admiration  of it
  arises from  ignorance of what it really is.
    Miniature paintings appear, at the bar
  of this test,  mere plastered tints, entirely
  void of regularity.
    Thus sink the works of art, when we
  view them as they really are !   On the con
  trary,  the nearer we examine,  the clearer
  can we discover and distinguish the works
  of nature, even in the least of her produc-
  tions, the more sensible we must be made
  ofthe  wisdom, power, and  greatness of
  their Author.
   View the numberless species of insects
 that swim, creep, or fly around us ; what
x proportion and harmony shall we perceive
 in all their  organs !  what a profusion of 
119
colouring;   (as  in the  butterfly) azure,
green, and vermilion ;  gold, silver, pearls,
rubies, fringes, and embroidery,  on their
bodies, wings, heads, and every other part!
How rich the  glow !   How splendid the
finishing!   How inimitable the polish we
every where discover !
   Search yet farther,  and examine the ani-
malcules, many sorts of which it would be
impossible for the human eye,  unassisted,
to discern.*
   The same order, regularity, and beauty,
we discover among the vegetable  tribes, if
brought to examination.  Every stalk, bud,
flower, or seed, displays a figure, a propor-
tion, a harmony, beyond the powers  of art.
Not a plant, nor a moss, whose leaf does
not shew  a multiplicity of vessels  and
pores, disposed most curiously, for thecon-

  * These atoms are so small that they can scarcely be
discerned by the aid of glasses which possess the greatest
magnifying powers  : in them, however, we discover the
same organs of body, multiplicity of parts, variety of mo-
tion, diversity of figure, and particular modes of living,
as in the larger animals.
                    L 
                  120
veyance  of nutrition ;  and which is  not
adorned  with  innumerable graces to em-
bellish it.
  Hence,  the most perfect works of  art,
betray a poverty and inability in the work-
man ; but those of nature, prove the hand
that formed them is Omnipotent.
  It may be inquired by  some, to what
purpose has the Creator bestowed such an
expense of beauty on  so much insignifi-
cance ?
  Our reply is, that the beauty and ele-
gance which adorn them, are evident and
convincing proofs of their not being so in-
significant as is presumptuously supposed;
for such beauty and harmony, displayed in
all the constituents, of the organization of
animals,  is given them for the purpose of
their  perceiving, and  attaching them to
their own species : for ours, that we may
observe in them the stupendous power  and
goodness of the Creator.  If the former,
we  must allow them to be of consequence
in the general account of their Creator; and
if the latter, it is  our  unbounded duty to 
121
take notice  of,  and  admire.   Therefore,
whatever the  divine  Author  has  been
pleased to bestow on them;  and what he
has judged worthy to create, are not, sure-
ly, below a rational mind to examine,  ad-
mire, and contemplate.
" See man from nature rising slow to art,
To copy instinct then was nature's part:
Thus then to him the voice of nature spake,
Go, from the creatures thy instruction take.' 
   MISCELLANEOUS  TRACTS.


  It  is an ancient and approved maxim,
that a life, guided entirely according to the
directions of art, must be a miserable one.
And the most judicious practitioners, sen-
sible ofthe justness of the observation, and
that what  is prohibited is  often the most
eagerly coveted, have endeavoured to give,
even to persons labouring  under disease,
as great latitude as possible in the articles
of diet; and to reconcile every part ofthe
regimen they prescribe, as nearly as they
can, to the common mode of living,  in or-
der that the patient may be reminded as lit-
tle as possible of his misfortune.
  With  respect to quantity, it is evident
that this must be regulated by our feelings;
a healthy man may be  said not to exceed
in the quantity of his meal, if  he finishes
it with a relish for more ;  if immediately
after eating, he can, if required, follow any
employment that does not  demand strong
exercises, or  violent exertions, which, to 
123
 persons in easy circumstances, will  rarely
 be necessary, and ought in general  to be
 avoided, as it disturbs digestion, though
 daily  practised,  from necessity, by the la-
 bouring poor.


 Irritability is the principle of Life, and ox-
    ygen is the principle of irritability.


   In palsied limbs, the muscles retain their
 sense of irritability, and faculty of motion,
if there be applied a topical stimulus, such
 as electricity, galvanism, cautery, &c.  But
the nerves which  go to the muscles are so
diseased or compressed, that they do not
transmit the impression of the will.
   The difference between  a paralytic, and
a dead man is, that the paralytic is a dead
man,  who suffers ;  and the dead man is a
paralytic, whose sufferings are finished.
   What then shall we say  ofthe inebriate,
who, with this truth staring him in the face,
is a paralytic with his own  consent ?  But
                 l 2 
                  124
with all this, he is not contented with put-
ting an enemy in his mouth  which,  as
Shakespeare says,
           " Steals away our Brains."
He seeks to drive it out with another, that
either  impairs his constitution,  or under-
mines his very existence.
  Our  Columbian  Sydenham* has pre-
sented,  in living tints, a prospective ofthe
sad results of intemperance:  in his inquiry
upon the effects of spirituous liquors upon
the human body, and their influence upon
the happiness of society, he says, " They
fill   our church  yards  with   premature
graves—They deface the image of God in
the  soul—They derange or destroy  the
intellectual powers—They fill the sheriff's
docket with executions—They crowd our
hospitals with  patients, and  our jails with
criminals—They lead to places of public
ignominy and punishment."
  Drinking intemperately is so ungentle-
man-like a vice, that it would be an affront
* Dr Benjamin Rush, 
125
to suppose persons of  polished manners
could be capable of it.
   We admit one  generous glass of wine
for digestion ; a second for our relations ;
a  third  for  the President of the United
States ;  a fourth  for our country ;  and if
a fifth, it must be for our enemies.
   Events arise from a fit of intemperance
which are sometimes fatal, and always such
as are disagreeable :  with all man's reason
and  good sense about him, his tongue is
apt  to utter things out of mere gaiety of
heart, which may displease his best friend :
who then, would trust himself to the pow-
er of wine, if there was no other objection
against it than this, that it raises the imag-
ination, and depresses the judgment ?
   Supposing our claims to temperance are
admitted, yet our readers will indulge us
in presenting the following  sentiments,
when  we have the pleasure to enjoy  the
company and conversation of well selected
and  intelligent friends :
   First. May every just and  liberal sen-
timent be nobly  expressed, and  fully im-
pressed. 
126
   Second. May merit never be depressed.
   Third. May no plan of public  utility
be suppressed.  And,
   Fourth,  May Columbia's freedom nev-
er be repressed.
        TO COMPRESS ALL,
   May every useful thought be fully ex-
pressed,  and duly  impressed; and neither
repressed,  nor suppressed;  nor any  worth
ever be oppressed,  or depressed.
   Common self-evident complaints require
nothing  more  than  common remedies:
artificial  complaints,  which arise from ex-
cesses, are  complex,  and require the skill,
and  indeed the close  attention of  a phy-
sician,   imaginary complaints exist  in the
mind, and cannot be reached by  any
skill.  We have, therefore, in the first in-
stance, to consult  Dr.  Last; in  the sec-
ond, to resort to some able and judicious
physician ;  and in  the third, to invoke the
aid of reason :  this done, firmly and with
discretion,  nostrums  would  be  annihila-
ted,  and  empirics  held at a distance.
   Then  would temperance and  prudence
be ihe purveyors of our pleasures.   Then 
127
 would  wholesome  exercise  brace  our
 nerves, and diffuse over the countenance
 the glow of health.   Then would keen ap-
 petite conquer palling  satiety:  and  then
 would  the  operations of the kitchen  tri-
 umph  over the labours of the laboratory.
   Nothing affords so pleasing a variety to
 life as action;  and nothing  so effectually
 dissipates painful sensations  as the counte-
 nance and conversation of a friend.   Nor
 with our friends only should we associate ;
 the company of strangers may be of singu-
 lar use, in sweetening our  tempers, and
 refining our manners; for  this  requires
 more than ordinary attention to the civili-
 ties  of social intercourse;  it  forces  the
 mind into new exertions, which  prevent
 the stagnation  of the faculties, whereby
 the fancy is corrupted.  It amuses, by of-
 fering to our notice a variety of new char-
 acters, and  incidents ; and, if we study to
 make ourselves  agreeable, which  is no
more than our duty, it is  beneficial to our
temporal  interest, by  extending our  ac-
quaintance and influence. 
c^Iecp.
   Tired nature's  sweet  restorer  cannot
safely be dispensed with.  View the bloom-
ing  complexion  of our peasantry—their
strength and activity, compared  with  the
sickly visage,  and debilitated constitution
of the sons of luxury, who turn night into
day  ;  and it clearly  demonstrates  which
mode of life is most condusive to health.
   They, after the toils of the day, are at
peace with  the world—They exert little
attention to external objects—They antici-
pate the pleasing expectation of rich results
from their industry.  Retire—
   "  The shades descend, and midnight o'er the world
   Expands her sable wings ; Great Nature droops
   Through all her works.  How happy he, whose toil,
   Has o'er his languid, wearied limbs diffused
   A pleasing lassitude !  He not in vain
   Invokes the gentle deity of dreams :
   Sleep, fast and deep, their active functions soon
   With generous streams the subtile tubes supply ;
   Ere morn the tonic, irritable nerves
   Feel the fresh impulse, and awake the soul.
   Doctor  Mackensie  Aery emphatically
 observes, that he who sleeps long in  the 
                   129
morning, and sits up late at night, hurts his
constitution without gaining time ; and he
who will do it merely in compliance with
the fashion, ought not to repine at a fash-
ionable state of bad health.
   Hippocrates asserts, that labour is prop-
er for the joints, food for the fleshy parts,
sleep for the viscera,  walking for the soul,
and thinking for man.

   It is  generally admitted, that the perspi-
rable pores can absorb not only  the mois-
ture that  floats in  the atmosphere, but a
variety  of foreign bodies, whether delete-
rious or medicinal, which may be applied
to their orifices; and as the atmosphere, in
certain situations, is loaded with  unwhole-
some matter, may not clothing, properly
regulated, be considered a filter, to sepa-
rate the  impurities of the  air,  before it
comes into contact wirh the  body ?
   Professor Boerhaave, who was born, liv-
ed,  and died in a flat bottomed country,
recommended this favourite receipt for the
preservation of health in variable  climates ; 
                   ISO
 " to leave off our winter  clothing on mid-
 summer day, and to resume it the day fol-
 lowing."   May not this hint be reconcila-
 ble to those who live in the neighbourhood
 of marshy plains, lakes or positions, where
 the atmosphere is  greatly  charged with
 marsh miasma, or putrid exhalations ?
    To keep an  animal in  health, besides
 the retaining of a due degree  of  animal
 heat,  there must be  a continued genera-
 tion of new juices, and an expenditure of
 the old.  Without the due quantity of per-
 spiration, which with us depends very much
 on our clothing, neither the  vegetable nor
 animal can continue in health :  a plant, as
 we have said, whose perspiration is locked,
 becomes  sickly and  dies;  and an  egg,
 whose shell has been  covered with a var-
 nish, and perspiration  imprisoned by this
 means, will produce no living animal, ei-
 ther by the application of common heat,
 or that of incubation from the parent.
  The celebrated  Sanctorius affirms,  that
the insensible perspiration alone dischar-
 ges more than all the sensible evacuations 
                   131
together, and that the proportion of this to
all the other evacuations, is as five to three;
though this  proportion varies  in different
ages, climates, and constitutions, yet it  is
of such importance in all, that where it is in
any considerable degree deficient, a diseas-
ed  state ofthe body must ensue.
  The sympathetic sensibility ofthe surface
 of the body,  is chiefly affected by the state
of  the perspirable pores; for it is only when
these are unlocked that  the impression of
the atmosphere on the skin produces ca-
tarrhs, rheumatism, and internal inflamma-
tions, in cold climates ;  and the external
temperature in hot climates, being such as
to keep the pores almost always open, this
seems to be a principal reason  of that uni-
versal irritability prevailing there, and ofthe
general sympathy that  prevails between
every part, particularly as  connected with
the organs of perspiration.
   To keep the skin in good humour, cold
and tepid bathing, under certain circum-
stances, is essentially necessary to health.
In  all diseases depending on a suppressed
                    M 
132
perspiration, tepid bathnig frequently con-
trols the symptoms, and restores the nat-
ural functions on the surface.   Evapora-
tion from the surface is more copious from
the tepid affusion,  and on this the cooling
ofthe body very much depends, particular-
ly when under the influence of febrile heat.
The tepid affusion is but little,  if at  all
stimulating ; and  does not, like the cold,
rouse the energies ofthe system, by which
iieat is evolved, and the effects of external
cold are resisted.   Where the object is to
diminish heat,  that may  be obtained  with
great certainty by the repeated  use of the
tepid affusion,  suffering the surface of the
body to be exposed in the interval, to the
external air ; and if the rays of the sun  are
excluded, and a stream of wind flows over
it, the heat may then be reduced, where
cold water cannot be obtained ; even in  the
warmest regions ofthe earth; on the plains
of Bengal or the scorching sands of Arabia.
   In the earlier stages of exercise, before
profuse perspiration  has  dissipated  the
heat, and fatigue debilitated the living prin- 
                   133
-ciple,  nothing,  we presume, is more safe
and healthy than the cold bath at a tempe-
rature of, from  forty-five to sixty-five de-
grees, of Fahrenheit's scale.
   The popular opinion, that it is more safe
to go perfectly cool into the water, is found-
ed on  prejudice ;  because persons heated,
and beginning to  perspire, often think it
necessary to wait until they are cool, and
then  plunge themselves  into the water :
they feel a sudden chilness,  that is alarm-
ing, and sometimes dangerous : in such
cases,  the injury is generally imputed to
going into the water too warm, whereas it
arises from going in too cool. 
  TO OUR YOUNG MEDICAL AND
      MERCANTILE FRIENDS.

 Juvenile days are ductile—and susceptible of
         Intelectual Improvement.

  Should your destiny in life lead you to
go a long voyage to the eastern continent,
or West-Indies, the following is an excel-
lent antiscorbutic and refreshing  diet, at
sea or land, in hot climates.—It is called
souins, an  acidulous preparation  of  oat-/
meal, and deserves much attention.   It is
prepared by pouring hot water on oat-meal,
and suffering it to stand till it has  become
sourish; decant the  liquor, which is to be
boiled to the consistence of a jelly, and may
be procured on ship board : the macerated
oatmeal may be made like mush or sup-on,
and eaten with sugar or syrup, for the ship's
company.
  The diseases of hot climates are generally
diseases of exhaustion, caused by the too
powerful action ©f the stimulus  of  heat,
hence the necessity of taking frequently, 
                  135
cool acidulated drinks, which restore the
tone ofthe fibres by absorbing the heat, and
preventing its stimulant action.
  Thirst is a state of the system opposed
to that of  hunger, it is a sensation  which
indicates a state of exhaustion, deficiency
of oxygen ; oxygenated remedies therefore
are required.—Lemonade.
  Vegetable  and  mineral acids contain
vast quantities of oxygen. It is in propor-
tion to the quantity of oxygen in the com-
position of acids that they allay the  sensa-
tion of thirst; thus vegetable acids are the
best remedies against the effects of narcotic
poisons (as opium, &c.)for by their decom-
position they restore to the fibre the oxy-
gen which the poison  had deprived it of.
Vinegar taken in large doses cures the state
of exhaustion by  a strong dose of opium,
and prevents death, which might otherwise
ensue.  It is a well known fact, that ine-
briated persons become sober by drinking
a glass of vinegar ; that is, the vinegar res-
tores the tone of the system, which it had
lost by the alcohol contained in the wine: 
                  136
A great quantity of water produces the
same effect.


   The bite of a viper, or other venomous
reptiles,  is said to be  cured by frequent
Washings with a solution of pot-ash ; the
cure indicated presumes the presence of an
acid, and the remedies resorted to are alk-
alies to decompound an acid, which is ad-
mitted through the medium of a wound,
produced from the bite  ofthe animal, un-
der the  influence of the excess of calor-
ic : in such accidents, fear often destroys
the effects of remedies, and prevents a cure,
by producing  a repulsion  of the fluid from
the surface to  the more noble parts of the
circulation.

  Preservatives against,  and cure  of yel-
low fever, or other malignant aftections ia
hot climates, or in our  summer months,
particularly where a great range of heat in
the atmospheric temperature prevails, com-
bined with moisture, depend upon the 
                   137
means proper for keeping at a distance both
within and without the body, an excess of
caloric.
    " Fly the rank city ; shun its turbid air ;
  Breathe not the chaos of continued smoke,
  And volatile corruption, from the dead,
  The dying, sick'ning, and the living world
  Exhal'd, to sully Heaven's transparent dome
  With dim mortality."

   We recommend to  public patronage,
 those  young physicians of genius,  who are
 brought forward and supported in their pro-
 fession, by the approbation of those who are
 judges of their merits.   Happy country !
 where science, aided by the genius of Lib-
 erty, unfolds, and is rapidly  diffusing her
 riches through every part of her widely ex-
 tended territory  !  May " the wilderness
 and the solitary  places be glad,  and the
 desert rejoice and blossom as the rose."
 
GLOSSARY.
              Atmospheric air contains
  72 parts of Azote, "J — CMephitic, or contagious air.
  27  Oxygen, and C s» < Vital air, or Acidifying principle.
   1 Carbonic Acidj » C. Fixed, or unrespirable air.
  Azote, Phlogisticated air; a tasteless and inodorous
    element,  which exists in great quantities in the atmos-
    phere : it extinguishes a lighted taper.
An Acid is a combination of vital air, or oxygen, with cer-
    tain elementary bases ;  every acid substance possesses
    a sour taste, changes the colour of syrup of violets, &.c.
    red, and mostly effervesces, as  with alkalies ;  they are
    divided into animal, vegetable, and mineral; of each of
    which, there are several : in a figurative sense, acids
    may be said to be the teeth of time.
  Carbonic, is pure  charcoal or the black residuum of veg-
    etables which have undergone a complete decomposi-
    tion of their volatile principles by fire. Inflammable air,
    or possessing all the apparent properties of air, 13 times
    lighter than atmospheric air.
  Caloric, principle of heat, or heat extricated from what
    ever cause. 
APPENDIX.
ON  THE  SENSES.
  No animal, of which we have any knowl-
edge, is endowed with more than five ex-
ternal senses; and  no  animal, however
imperfect, is destitute of the whole. With-
out organs of sensation, in a  smaller or
greater number,  animal or intellectual ex-
istence  wrould be to us an inconceivable
idea.
  Upon this interesting subject, as it com-
prehends every source of information, and
every motive to action in man, as well as
the inferior animals, it is  not  surprising
that so  much has been written, and that
so  many  different hypotheses  have been
invented,  and submitted for public consid-
eration.   Our intention is here to present
the reader with a brief view of this important
                    o 
                  142
subject, combined with a few observations
on the different instruments of sensation,
which will be  arranged in the following
order, viz. Touch, Taste, Smelling, Hear-
ing, and  Sight.
  For a  more  extensive view of this im-
portant subject, we refer  our  readers to
the   ingenious   Abl 6   de   Condillac's
Traite des Sensations, published  in 1754,
in two volumes,  12mo.   In this work the
sagacious and  learned  Abbe desires his
readers  to abstract themselves from all
pre-conceived  opinions,  and  imagine
the situation  and feelings of a statue,  lim-
ited  at first to a  single  sense,  and after-
wards acquiring,  gradually, the  whole
Five. 
         <©f tljc  Contl),
                   OR
            FIRST  SENSE.

   The touch participates of less delicacy
than the other senses ;  but,  at the same
time, surpasses them in point of certainty.
It absolutely denies  all incredibility, be-
sides which good property it enjoys, is that
of being the most general sensation.  See-
ing and hearing  result from the organiza-
tion  of a very minute  proportion of our
structure ;  but  it  is requisite that every
part  of the Animal  Economy should  be
supplied with the faculty of  feeling, to dis-
tinguish  us  from  mere machines,  that
may  be taken apart at pleasure, without
the consciousness  of violence  offered to
their  mechanism.  ^This is what nature
has  furnished,  and wherever we find
nerves and life, there  also  subsists the
sense of touch, which does  not seem to re-
quire any  particular organization,  or to
depend on the  structure of  the  nervous 
                  144
extremities;  the simple solid of a  nerve
being alone sufficient to produce it.   The
lips of a recent wound have a quick sen-
sation, though destitute of the nervous pa^
pillse  observable  on  the skin.  Nature,
we would conclude, was necessarily oblig-
ed to be  at great expense in producing
the sense of  touch,  has,   nevertheless,
established it  at a small one : so that the
nervous  papillae, are not absolutely neces-
sary to feeling,  but to the perfection of it,
and the  variety of  the respective sensa-
tions.  The sense of touch, therefore, is
the basis of all the others.   It is the Ge-
nus of which they  are the  most perfect
species:  all the nervous solids, animated
by a fluid, are indued with this  general
sense.   But  the papillae  of the tongue,
skin, and fingers, for instance, enjoy it to
a higher degree of  perfection, and af-
ford the  property of discernment of the
substance  touched.   The papillae  of the
tongue  possess  superior   properties  to
those of  the  skin,  and  of the nose to 
                   145
that of the  tongue, and so of the rest, in
proportion to the delicacy ofthe sensation.
   All matter of sufficient consistence, or
solidity, to affect the surface of our skin,
becomes the object of touch.  This sense
ascertains  the magnitude and figure of
bodies, their distance,  inaction,  motion,
solidity, softness,  fluidity, heat, coldness,
dryness, moisture, &c. these are its proper
objects.
   The sensation of warmth, or heat, is a
sort of gentle emotion,  or irritation of our
nervous system,  and an expansion of the
solids  and fluids, produced by  the action
of a moderate quantity of the subtile mat-
ter of heat,  or the. organ of heat, that is,
lire, whether natural or artificial.
   The sensation of cold, on the contrary, is
a sort of obstruction in the nervous papillae,
and generally in all the solids it is a conden-
sation or decrease of motion in the fluids a-
rising either from the contact of some cold
substance not to any degree  impregnated
with subtile agitated matter, like the air or
water in winter, or by any other accidental
                   o 2 
                  146
cause,  whereby the motion of our fluids,
and natural  elemental heat is suppressed,
as the periodical  convulsion of the fluids
that produces shiverings in an ague.  It is
probable that Our fluids being either con-
densed or impeded in their motion, by one
or other of these causes, the  nervous ex-
tremities, and the solids in general, which
are solely expanded  by  the impulse  of
these fluids,  are  immediately locked up,
and it is this locking that is the source of
all the effects of cold,  in the animal body.
   The skin, then, is the  organ of touch,
and is a composition of fibres, nerves and
vessels, which  are intimately  interwoven
in such  an extraordinary manner, that the
texture,  in some measure, resembles the
meshes of a net.
   The  mechanism of this  nervous net-
work, is richly  accommodated for receiv-
ing the  impressions of objects;  for,  by
their elevation,  they are far more suscepti-
ble of irritation, and consequently entirely
formed  for  the production  of  the  most
complete sense.  These papillae arise per- 
                   147
pendicular to the surface of the body.  At
the  extremities  of the  fingers,  they are
elongated in proportion  to the extent of
that part, and are so closely connected as
to form those solid bodies, the nails.
   The   sense  of  feeling  is  absolutely
so complete, and of such vast importance,
that it has sometimes performed (if we may
so express it) the function of the eyes, and
recompensed, in some degree, the  blind,
for  the loss of that invaluable blessing—
the sight.
   An organist in Holland, though depriv-
ed of vision,  could play that instrument
perfectly  well.   He had acquired, like-
wise, a  habit of  distinguishing by  the
touch, the different kinds of coin, and even
colours.   The sculpture  Ganibasius,  of
Volterre, surpassed this organist.   It was
sufficient for this blind artist to have touch-
ed an object, in order to make a bust of
clay, that should bear an exact resemblance
of the original.   These are perfections of
the  touch,  exceeding all imagination or 
                      148
     belief, were  they not recorded, and well
     attested, in the records of the historic page.
       We  will dismiss  this subject  for our
     intelligent  readers  to apply to  this sense,
     part of what we shall advance relative to
     the taste,  and others that have the most
     considerable share with it.

;               __^_____


             <©f the  (Sasjte,
                       OR
               SECOND SENSE.


       The  Taste,  considered superficially,
     would seem to be a sensation peculiar to
     the mouth, and distinct  from that of hun-
     ger  or thirst: but  if we trace  it to its
     origin, we shall be convinced that this or-
     gan, which, in the mouth,  renders us sus-
     ceptible of  the  delicacy  of  meats  and
     drinks, the  same principle, that in  the
     mouth, throat, and stomach, is craving for
     food, and  excites a longing desire for it, 
                   149
these parts  are but one continued organ,
and possess  the same object—Taste.  If
the mouth creates an aversion to particu-
lar food,  the palate repels its admission
into  the  stomach.  Hunger,  thirst,  and
taste,  therefore,  are three  effects ofthe
same organ.  Hunger  and thirst are the
motions of  the organ,  desirous of an ob-
ject.   The  taste is the motion of the or-
gan in the enjoyment of this object.   The
more violent the  appetite is for food, the
greater is the enjoyment and relish for
it.   The  more  the taste  is gratified, the
more easily  the organ defrays the expense
of this gratification by digestion ; because
all these different  degrees wrhich we  pre-
sume the result of a sound habit, proceed
from an organ more healthy, more perfect,
and more active.   This rule is generally
applicable  to all  the  sensations and the
passions.  Genuine desite constitutes the
proportion ofthe purest pleasures, and ofthe
power to enjoy them ; because the power
that gives rise to the pleasure,  is also the
measure of its extent, in proportion as the 
                  150
pleasure  is  limited by  the desire of it.
The more  importunate the stomach is,
the greater pleasure arises from satisfying
it, and proportionably forcible is the appe-
tite. Without this mutual consent, found-
ed  on  the mechanism of the organ,  our
sensation  would destroy that  being  for
whose benefit they are established.
   The taste, in general, is the motion of
an organ that enjoys its object, and entire-
ly sensible of its goodness, or the contra-
ry.  It is for  this reason  that there  sub-
sists  a taste in regard of all  sensation.
Though  the  taste, strictly speaking,  is
common  to   the  mouth,  throat   and
stomach, yet there is such  a sympathy be-
tween these three organs, that what is dis-
agreeable  to  one, is  generally  disgust-
ful to all;  and  though they are  in a sort
 of combination to repel what is disagree-
able,  yet  it must  be  admitted,  that the
mouth possesses the  sensation in a more
 eminent  degree, and  is  endued with a
 greater delicacy than the other two. 
                   151
   It is very natural that the mouth, which
first receives the morsel,  and of course
becomes the taster in respect of the other
two, should  be possessed of a  superior
discerning property.
   This  delicate sense  is  evidently  the
most essential of all the others, with  the
exception of that of feeling;  and, indeed,
more essential than  the touch, were not
the  taste itself a sort of a more refined
touch.   So that the object of taste is  not
a solid body, as is that of the touch ;  but
they are juices, or moistures, with which
these bodies  are impregnated, or  that are
extracted from them.   The juices  that
make an impression on the organ of taste,
are called savours, and sometimes  this ap-
pellation is appropriated to their  impres-
sions.   The  active principle of savoury
bodies, are salts, as well fixed as volatile :
earths, phlegm, and  sulphur, are no part
of savoury  compositions, but serve to es-
tablish a variety,  in  the same manner as
shades,  mixed  with  light,  form different
images.  Thus salts are the only principle 
                  152
capable of affecting the organ of taste.  It is
a maxim universally admitted, that water,
oil, and earth, have  not the least taste.
   We now proceed  to  examine the  or-
gan on  which such impressions are made.
The nervous extremities are here the or-
gan of  sensation ; their  structure  is,  in a
small matter, different  from that of  the
skin, and  in  proportion to the disparity of
their objects.   The  papillae that form the
organ of taste,  are  much  larger, more
porous,  and  more  dilated.   They  are
moistened  by a great quantity of  saliva,
and invested with  a delicate  membrane, or
skin.
   In consequence of this structure,  the
savoury particles,  are detained and entan-
gled amidst the asperities of the parts, and
diluted  by  a plenitude of lymph, absorbed
by these pores, and conveyed by the as-
sistance of  this  lymph to the  nerves,
where they make  an impression by their
stimulating  property.   The  organs  of
taste  are  not only  very   numerous  on
 the tongue, but are, besides, diffused in 
                 155
die mouth.  Monsieur De Jussieu, in the
Memoirs of the Academy, relates the sto-
ry of a girl born without a tongue, and
was not deprived of the sense of taste.
However,  it must  be confessed that the
tongue is the principal organ of this sense.
The papillae,  or the extremities  of the
nerves, destined to this organ, and divest-
ed of their coats, appear to be three dis-
tinct  classes, one of which  resembles  a
mushroom, another lentils, and a third as-
sumes the figure of pyramids.   All this
apparatus is shrouded by a porous mem-
brane that distributes a delicate covering
to the nerves of the tongue.
            ---—»®«"----

         <©f  tlje  &mdi,
                  OR
           THIRD  SENSE.
                  ■♦»
 We have in our preceding pages, placed
man in a state of consciousness of his ex-
istence ;  we have furnished him with the
                   p 
                  154
first  means of preserving his  being,  by
nourishing it; we  have placed  him at a
table with a taste, and an appetite to enjoy
it: but what  assurance can he have, that
his table, served up to him, is spread with
viands  suitable to his particular  condi-
tion ? He does, as yet,  not enjoy the least
glimmering of light, and if  he did,  his
eyes could not ascertain the  goodness of
his food, nor even, perhaps, demonstrate it
was really  food, it being not their assign.
able duty.  Let us then procure him the
enjoyment  of succulent  and   delicious
odours, that exhale from the delicacies of
his table, and drinks that are prepared to
regale  him.  Let us supply him with the
sense of—smell.
   These  odoriferous  particles  have  no
sooner escaped and  touched this delicate
organ,  than the gentle irritation produced,
immediately  expands  over the  organ of
taste, and  this being upon the scent, fur-
nishes, in  an instant, every instrument
requisite for seizing the prey. 
                  155
  We imagine, therefore, that the smell is
not so  much a particular sense,  as a part
of, or supplement to that of taste, to which
we indulge the  latitude  of  a figure; it
stands as a—Centinel.
  Hence the smell is the  taste of odours,
and  the anticipation  of savoury bodies.
The membrane that lines the nose is the
organ  of communication to this sense, in
continuation of that which lines the throat,
mouth and stomach ;  the difference in re-
gard of the  sensations  of these  parts, is
nearly  in  proportion  to  their  distance
from the brain: that is, the  smell differs
no more  from  the taste,  that the  taste
does from hunger and thirst.  The mouth
is possessed only with  a finer sensation
than either the throat or stomach, and the
nose,   one  still  more  delicate than the
mouth; for this obvious  reason,  it is
nearer the source of sensorial power.
  We are  led to trace  now  the  mechan-
ism with  which  this sense  is furnished.
immediately at  the  entrance of  the nos- 
                  156
trils, the nose forms two cavities which
are separated by one partition ; these are
enlarged in  proportion to  their distance,
and they are again united by one distinct
duct which  extends to the bottom of the
throat, and have a communication with the
mouth.  The membrane then  lining the
nose is covered on its surface with an ex-
ceeding soft and short down, and compo-
sed ofthe extremities of nerves which con-
stitute the organ of smelling.
   This  downy coat is wisely constructed
for arrtstii.g the odoriferous particles;
for the inside of the nose  is furnished on
each side  with  cor csponding convolu-
tions which proceed very far into this cav-
 ity, cause a sort  of resistance in  the pas-
 sage,  and  imbibe,  by  that  means,  the
 vapours of bodies to diffuse themselves,
 and then halt a limited time.
    This structure determines these vapours
 to make an impression a longer time, in a
 stronger manner, and on  a larger extent
 of surface, and consequently the sensation
 resulting from them, is rendered complete- 
                  157
 ly perfect. The effects not only are a high
 gratification, or disgust, as in taste ;  but
 they  support  the  languid  powers of the
 system, by stimulating the nervous influ-
 ence, and recruit  them, with a fresh sup-
 ply of the spirit of animation,. or some-
 times disconcert them, by creating convul-
 sions, faintings, &c. when their  impres-
 sions are displeasing.



          <©f Rearing,
                  OR
       THE FOURTH SENSE.

  The perfect man  increases insensibly.
 In the first  place  we  are assured by the
touch, of the solidity of bodies, and their
properties.  Then we  discover the mo-
tion of the juices and liquids, with which
they are impregnated by the taste,  ana the
odoriferous  vapours  that, exhale  from
them by the smell.   We have treated of
                  p 2 
                   158
 the  grosser and more  subtile parts of
 bodies within our reach or contact.  This
 limited  commerce  might  absolutely  be
 sufficient for the few that are said to be ill*
 treated  by nature,  because her liberality
 has been more beneficent  to others,  and
 extending our  communication with other
 beings far beyond those  that surround us
 by the hearing, and even  far beyond the
 world we enjoy—the Sight.
   This communication is ever establish-
 ed by the  matter that affects the organ ;
 but, in proportion as this matter advances,
 it becomes the more  subtile,  and more
 expanded at a distance, and capable of con-
 veying us intelligence from a distance that
 are altogether foreign to our atmosphere.
   We are now on the point of transcend-
 ing the  bounds of our  atmosphere : for
 the object of hearing is noise, and sounds
 in general.   Sounds consist in a quick vi-
 bration  ofthe  air,  communicated to the
' organ of this sense, and this communica-
 tion  is agitated at a great or lesser dis-
 tance. 
                     lr9
   Noise which renders  vibrations  of the
air replete, and more regular and pleasing
to the ear, we call—Sound.
   The  vibration of sound in producing
an agreeable surprise, have excited men's
curiosity and industry,  to form them into
an art adapted to please, and create  emo-
tions that are calculated to awake the soul.
All the  senses have beeen equally produc-
tive of  arts  to gratify,  to perfect,  or to
guard them from bad impressions.  What
art has not the  sense of feeling produced ?
If the ear has  its Lulli,* the mouth  is not

   * Articulate sounds may be transmitted throgh solids.
Dr. Chladni, who has made a vast number of experiments
relative to this subject, expresses himself in the following
manner:
   " Articulated sounds are slso conducted exceedingly
well, through hard bodies, as I found  by experiments
which I made with some of my friends.
   "Two persons who had stopped their ears could con-
verse with each other,  when they held a stick, or series
of sticks, between their teeth, or rested their  teeth
against them.  It is all the same whether the person who
speaks  rests the stick against his  throat or his breast;
or when  one rests the stick which he holds in his teeth
against some vessel into which the other speaks.  The
effect will be greater, the more the  vessel is capable of a
tremulous movement.  It appeared to be strongest with 
                       160

 without its Martialet, nor the eye its Gali-

 leo,  &c.  all  of  them  valuable,  because
 they have applied themselves to the  im-

 provement of human nature.
    The  mechanism of the organ of hearing

 is the  exterior  tunnel  connected  by  a
 winding canal, or convoluted  tube, which

 terminates  in  a   membrane.    This  is

 glass and porcelain vessels ;  with copper kettles, wooden
 boxes, and earthen pots, it was weaker.  Sticks of glass,
 and next fir wood, conducted the sound best.  The sound
 could also be heard when a thread was held between the
teeth, by both, so as to be somewhat stretched. Through
 each substance the sound was modified, in a manner little
 different.   By resting a stick, or  other body, against the
 temples, the forehead, and the external cartilaginous part
 of the ear, sound is conveyed to the interior organs of
 hearing, as will readily appear, if you hold your watch to
 those parts of another person who has stopped up his ear.
 From  this it appears, as well as from  experiments
 relative to hearing under  water, that hearing is nothing
 else than by means of the organs of hearing, to be sensi-
 ble ofthe tremulous movement of an elastic body, wheth-
 er this tremulous movement is conveyed through the air,
 or any other hard body, to the auricular nerves. It is also
essentially the same whether,  as is usually the case, the
 sound be conveyed through  the internal part of the ear,
 or whether it be communicated through any other part of
 the body.  It  certainly would be worth  the  trouble to
 make experiment, to try whether it might not be possible
 that deaf and dumb people,  when the deficiency lies
 only in the external organs of the ear, the auricular nerve 
                    161
stretched  like  the head of a  drum, from
whence it receives its name.   Its  centre
sinks  a little towards the first sinus, or
passage, that is  behind.   In  this passage
are a set of springs which terminate at one
end in the centre of the membrane,  and at
the other in the  entrance into the second
sinus, or passage, and are put in action by
appropriate   muscles.    This membrane
and its springs  appear to have,  in respect
of the hearing,  the same use  as the pupil
seems to have in regard ofthe eye.   The
pupil  contracts or dilates  in  order  to re-
ceive an image in the greatest perfection.
In like manner the drum is braced  or re-
laxed  to transmit to the organs of  hear-
ing the most perfect  vibrations.
  The  first  spring,   destined  to  make an

being perfect, could not, by the above method of conduct-
ing sound, be made to hear  distinctly, words articulated,
as well as other sounds."
  Persons who are not quick of hearing,  by applying their
teeth to some part of a piano forte, or other sounding
body, will, by that me;.ns,  be enabled to hear the sound
much better than otherwise.—CavaUo"s Philosophy, vol. 1,
page 335. 
                  162
impression on the drum,  is composed of
little bones, called the hammer and anvil;
the second, by the incus and  the  stirrup,
joined together by a bone called os orbitu-
lare,  and  the basis of  the stirrup makes
the entry  to  the  second  passage.   The
drum and assemblage of little bones,  con-
nected with the organ of hearing,  are not
absolutely necessary  for hearing,  but for
the justness  and perfection of  it.   The
first cavity of the ear contains, besides this
mechanism, a subtile  air, which it receives
from the bottom of the throat, by a canal
called Eustachius's  Tube.   The inward
air introduced by this tube,  supports the
drum;  and, being agitated by the exter-
nal air,  communicates its vibrations to the
immediate organs of  hearing. 
<©f tfje  &!0!)t,
          OR
  FIFTH  SENSE.
  Among the senses there are none more
useful than the sight; nor is it useful only,
but likewise universally confessed to sur-
pass them all in point of beauty, and  ad-
admirable effects.   The province of cele-
brating  its  charms,   we  leave to  the
genius  of the  poet,  but its surprising
properties  alone belong  to us;  and who
can avoid  being enchanted by these little
orbs.
  The mechanism  of vision  has some-
thing in it miraculous;  its organs are a
prodigy of dioptrics,*  which the most
consummate art must fall vastly  short of
imitating.  Light,  which is  its object,
participates of a sort of middle nature be-

   * Dioptrics are a part of optics, or the theory of
vision, which treats of the passage of light across u-*m-
parent bodies 
                   164
tween matter and spirit, f   It  is, at least,
the principle substance the soul receives
the impression of by means of the senses,
and consequently the sight is, if we may be
allowed the expression, the most spiritual
of them all.
   Even  the  ordinary class of  men look
upon the sight  as the mirror of the soul.
I  is the eye where generally every man's
character is legible, and his predominant
passion is painted in lively colours.

   ■j- Memoire de Mde Du Chatelot sur la Nature da
Feu pour le Prix de 1738, page 97.


                  MAN,
              "know thyself."
      "Him next in pow'r thou didst create.
       To thy celestial train ;
      Ordain'd, with dignity and state
       O'er all thy works to reign."
FINIS, 
 
 

 
&>":.


L*;Sfe
,<&',
«ir'