restored, and he had been free from any waking vision for nearly eighteen months. Some circumstances occurred which produced in him great mental excitement. One morning he dreamed of the figure, which stood by his side in an angry posture, and asked for a locket which he usually wore. He awoke and saw it at the toilet, with the locket in its hand. He rushed out of bed and it instantly disappeared. During the next six weeks its visits were incessant, and the sensations which they produced were invariably horrible. Some years before, he had attended the dissection of a woman in a state of rapid decomposition. Though much disgusted at the time, the subject had been long forgotten; but was recalled by the union of its putrescent body with the spectre's features. The visits were not confined to the night, but frequently occurred while several persons were in the same room. They were repeated at intervals during the winter; but he was able to get rid of them by moving or sitting in an erect position. Though well, his pulse was hard, and generally from 90 to 100.'* In March, 1829, during an attack of fever, accompanied with violent action in the brain, I experienced illusions of a very peculiar kind. They did not appear except when the eyes were shut or the room perfectly dark; and this was one of the most distressing things connected with my illness; for it obliged me either to keep my eyes open or to admit more light into the chamber than they could well tolerate. I had the consciousness of shining and hideous faces grinning at me in the midst of profound darkness, from which they glared forth in horrid and diabolical relief. They were never stationary, but kept moving in the gloomy background sometimes they approached within an inch or two of my face: at other times, they receded several feet or yards from it. They would frequently break into fragments, which after floating about would unite -portions of one face coalescing with those of another, and thus forming still more uncouth and abominable images. The only way I could get rid of those phantoms was by admitting more light into the chamber and opening my eyes, when they instantly vanished; but only to reappear when the room was darkened or the eyes closed. One night, when the fever was at its height, I had a splendid vision of a theatre, in the arena of which Ducrow, the celebrated equestrian, was performing. On this occasion, I had no consciousness of a dark back ground like to that on which the monstrous images floated; but every thing was gay, bright, and beautiful. I was broad awake, my eyes were closed, and yet I saw with perfect distinctness the whole scene going on in the theatre, Ducrow performing his wonders of horsemanship-and the assembled multitude, among whom I recognized several intimate friends; in short, the whole process of the entertainment as clearly as if I were present at it. When I opened my eyes the whole scene vanished like the enchanted palace of the necromancer; when I closed them, it as instantly returned. But though I could thus dissipate the spectacle, I found it impossible to get rid of the accompanying music. This was the grand march in the Opera of Aladdin, and was performed by the orchestra with more superb and imposing effect, and with greater loudness, than I ever heard it before; it was executed, indeed, with tremendous energy. This air I tried every effort to dissipate, by forcibly endeavouring to call other tunes to mind, but it was in vain. However completely the vision might be dispelled, the music remained in spite of every effort to banish it. During the whole of this singular state, I was perfectly aware of the illusiveness of my feelings, and, though labouring under violent headache, could not help speculating upon them and endeavoring to trace them to their proper cause. This theatrical vision continued for about five hours; the previous delusions for a couple of days. The whole evidently * Phrenological Journal, vol. v. p. 210. proceeded from such an excited state of some parts of the brain, as I have already alluded to. Ideality, Wonder, Form, Colour, and Size, were all in intensely active operation, while the state of the reflecting organs was unchanged. Had the latter participated in the general excitement, to such an extent as to be unable to rectify the false impressions of the other organs, the case would have been one of pure delirium. Spectral illusions can only be cured by removing the causes which give rise to them. If they proceed from the state of the stomach, this must be rectified by means of purgatives and alterative medicines. Should plethora induce them, local or general blood-letting and other antiphlogistic means are requisite. If they accompany fever or delirium tremens, their removal will, of course, depend upon that of these diseases. Arising from sleeplessness, they will sometimes be cured by anodynes; and from nervous irritation, by the showerbath and tonics. Where they seem to arise without any apparent cause, our attention should be directed to the state of the bowels, and blood-letting had re course to CHAPTER XVI. REVERIE. A state of mind somewhat analogous to that which prevails in dreaming, also takes place during reverie. There is the same want of balance in the faculties, which are almost equally ill regulated, and disposed to indulge in similar extravagancies. Reverie proceeds from an unusual quiescence of the brain, and inability of the mind to direct itself strongly to any one point: it is often the prelude of sleep. There is a defect in the attention, which, instead of being fixed on one subject, wanders over a thousand, and even on these is feebly and ineffectively directed. We sometimes see this while reading, or, rather, while attempting to read. We get over page after page, but the ideas take no hold whatever upon us; we are in truth ignorant of what we peruse, and the mind is either an absolute blank, or vaguely addressed to something else. This feeling every person must have occasionally noticed in taking out his watch, looking at it, and replacing it without knowing what the hour was, In like manner he may hear what is said to him without attaching any meaning to the words, which strike his ear, yet communicate no definite idea to the sensorium. Persons in this mood may, from some ludicrous ideas flashing across them, burst into a loud fit of laughter during sermon or at a funeral, and thus get the reputation of being either grossly irreverent or deranged. That kind of reverie in which the mind is nearly divested of all ideas, and approximates closely to the state of sleep, I have sometimes experienced while gazing long and intently upon a river. The thoughts seem to glide away, one by one, upon the surface of the stream, till the mind is emptied of them altogether. In this state we see the glassy volume of the water moving past us, and hear its murmur, but lose all power of fixing our attention definitively upon any subject: and either fall asleep, or are aroused by some spontaneous reaction of the mind, or by some appeal to the senses sufficiently strong to startle us from our reverie. Grave, monotonous, slowly repeated sounds-as of a mill, a waterfall, an Eolian harp, or the voice of a dull orator, have the effect of lulling the brain into repose, and giving rise to a pleasing melancholy, and to calmness and inanity of mind. Uniform gentle motions have a tendency to produce a similar state of reverie, which is also very apt to ensue in the midst of perfect silence; hence, in walking alone in the country, where there is no sound to distract our meditations, we frequently get into this state. It is also apt to take place when we are seated without books,, companions, or amusement of any kind, by the hearth on a winter evening, especially when the fire is beginning to burn out, when the candles are becoming faint for want of topping, and a dim religious light, like that filling a hermit's cell from his solitary lamp, is diffused over the apartment. This is the situation most favourable for reveries, waking dreams, and all kinds of brown study, abstraction, ennui, and hypochondria. Reverie has been known to arise from the mind sustaining temporary weakness, in consequence of long and excessive application to one subject. It is also, I believe, frequently induced by forcing young people to learn what they dislike. In this case, the mind, finding it impossible to direct itself to the hated task, goes wandering off in another direction, and thus acquires a habit of inattention, which, in extreme cases, may terminate in imbecility. Sometimes reveries arise from peculiarity of temperament, either natural or induced by mental or bodily weakness. The best regulated minds and strongest bodies, may, however, and, in fact, often have, occasional attacks: but when the feeling grows into a habit, and is too much indulged in, it is apt to injure the usefulness of the individual, and impair the whole fabric of his understanding. 'It is,' says Dr Good, upon the faculty of attention that every other faculty is dependent for its vigour and expansion: without it, the perception exercises itself in vain; the memory can lay up no store of ideas; the judgment draw forth no comparisons; the imagination must become blighted and barren; and where there is no attention whatever, the case must necessarily verge upon fatuity.' I conceive that persons in whom the organ of Concentrativeness is very small, are peculiarly apt to fall into reverie. I was The following is a remarkable instance of reverie arising from excessive application :-The subject of it was Mr Spalding, a gentleman well known as an eminent literary character in Germany, and much respected by those who knew him. The case was drawn up by himself, and published in the Psychological Magazine. I was this morning engaged with a great number of people who followed each other quickly, and to each of whom I was obliged to give my attention. also under the necessity of writing much; but the subjects, which were various and of a trivial and uninteresting nature, had no connexion the one with the other; my attention, therefore, was constantly kept on the stretch, and was continually shifting from one subject ⚫ to another. At last it became necessary that I should write a receipt for some money I had received on account of the poor. I seated myself and wrote the two first words, but in a moment found that I was incapable of proceeding, for I could not recollect the words which belonged to the ideas that were present in my mind. I strained my attention as much as possible, and tried to write one letter slowly after the other, always having an eye to the preceding one, in order to observe whether they had the usual relationship to each other; but I remarked, and said to myself at the time, that the characters I was writing were not those which I wished to write, and yet I could not discover where the fault lay. I therefore desisted, and partly by broken words and syllables, and partly by gesture, I made the person who waited for the receipt understand he should leave me. For about half an hour there reigned a kind of tumultuary disorder in my senses, in which I was incapable of remarking any thing very particular, except that one series of ideas forced themselves involuntarily on my mind. The trifling nature of these thoughts I was perfectly aware of, and was also conscious that I made several efforts to get rid of them, and supply their place with better ones, which lay at the bottom of my soul. I endeavoured as much as lay in my power, considering the great crowd of confused images which presented themselves to my mind, to recall my princioles of religion, of conscience, and of future expectation; these I found equally correct, and fixed as before. There was no deception in my external senses, for I saw and knew every thing around me; but I could not free myself from the strange ideas which existed in my head. I endeavoured to speak in order to discover whether I was capable of saying any thing that was connected; but although I made the greatest efforts of attention, and proceeded, with the utmost caution, I perceived that I uniformly spoke other words than those I intended. My soul was at present as little master of the organs of speech, as it had been before of my hand in writing. Thank God, this state did not continue very long, for, in about half an hour, my head began to grow clearer, the strange and tiresome ideas became less vivid and turbulent, and I could command my own thoughts with less interruption. I now wished to ring for my servant, and desire him to inform my wife to come to me; but I found it still necessary to wait a little longer to exercise myself in the right pronunciation of the few words I had to say: and the first half hour's conversation I had with her was, on my part, preserved with a slow and anxious circumspection, until at last I gradually found myself as clear and serene as in the beginning of the day, all that now remained was a slight headache. I recollect. ed the receipt I had begun to write, and in which I knew I had blundered; and upon examining it, I observed to my great astonishment, that instead of the words fifty dollars, being one half year's rate, which I ought to have written, the words were fifty dollars through the salvation of Bra-, with a break after it, for the word Bra was at the end of a line. I cannot recollect any perception, or business which I had to transact,, that could, by means of an obscure influence, have produced this phenomenon.' Reverie, when proceeding, as in this case, from excessive application, will seldom be difficult of cure; the removal of the exciting cause will of itself naturally constitute the remedy. When it arises from such a defect in education as that already mentioned, the cure will be more difficult, although even then it is not always impracticable. In such a case, the person should be strongly directed to those subjects in which he feels most interest, and never be made to study what he has not a positive liking for. Active employment and gay and pleasant society, may effect much in restoring the intellectual balance. In all cases, whatever, he should never be left long alone; as nothing has such a tendency to foster this state of mind as solitude. CHAPTER XVII. ABSTRACTION. 8 Abstraction, or absence of mind, has been confounded with reverie, but it is, in reality, a different intellectual operation; for as in the latter a difficulty is experienced in making the mind bear strongly on any one point. in the former its whole energies are concentrated towards a single focus, and every other circumstance is, for the time, utterly forgotten. Such was the case with Sir Isaac Newton when, in a fit of absence, he made a tobacco stopper of the lady's finger, and with Archimedes, who remained unconscious and unmoved during the noise and slaughter of captured Syracuse. Though, in general, abstraction is easily broken by outward impressions, there have been instances where it has been so powerful as to render the individuals labouring un der it insensible to pain. Pinel in his Nasographe Philosophique speaks of a priest who in a fit of mental absence was unconscious of the pain of burning; and Cardan brought himself into such a state as to be insensible to all external impression. PHILOSOPHY OF SLEEP. Some men are naturally very absent; others acquire this habit from particular pursuits, such as mathematics, and other studies demanding much calculation. Indeed, all studies which require deep thinking, are apt to induce mental absence, in consequence of the sensorial power being drained from the general circumference of the mind, and directed strongly to a certain point. This draining, while it invigorates the organ of the particular faculty towards which the sensorial energy is concentrated, leaves the others in an inanimate state, and incapacitates them from performing their proper functions; hence persons subject to abstraction are apt to commit a thousand ludicrous errors; they are perpetually blundering-committing a multitude of petty, yet harmless offences against established rules, and for ever getting into scrapes and absurd situations. Nothing is more common than for an absent man to take the hat of another person instead of his own, to give away a guinea for a shilling, to mistake his lodgWhen the fit of ings, forget invitations, and so forth. abstraction is very strong, he neither hears what is said to him, nor sees what is passing around. While you fancy,' says Budgell, in the 77th No. of the Spectator, he is admiring a beautiful woman, it is an even wager that he is solving a proposition in Euclid; and while you imagine he is reading the Paris Gazette, it is far from being impossible that he is pulling down and reIn some cases the indibuilding his country house.' vidual requires to be shaken before he can be brought to take notice of any occurrence; and it is often difficult to make him comprehend even the simplest proposition. Abstraction, therefore, bears an analogy to dreaming; inasmuch as, in each of these states, some faculties are active, while others are at rest. In dreaming, however, the organs of the quiescent faculties are in a much deeper slumber, and less easily roused into activity than in abstraction; hence in the great majority of cases, abstraction is broken with greater facility than sleep. It appears from the observations of the Edinburgh phrenologists, that individuals who have a large development of the organ of Concentrativeness are peculiarly liable to fall into a state of abstraction. The effect of such a development is fixity of ideas-the power and tendency to think consecutively and steadily upon one subject. In conversing with some individuals,' says Mr Combe, we find them fall naturally into a connected train of thinking; either dwelling on a subject which interests them, till they have placed it clearly before the mind, or passing naturally and gracefully to a connected topic. Such persons uniformly have this organ large. We meet with others, who in similar circumstances, never pursue one idea for two consecutive seconds, who shift from topic to topic, without regard to natural connexion, and leave no distinct impression on the mind of the listener; and this happens even with individuals in whom reflection is not deficient; but this organ (Concentrativeness) is, in such persons, uniformly small.' good endowment of the power in question adds very much to the efficiency of the intellect, by enabling its possessor to apply his mind continuously to a particular investigation, unannoyed by the intrusion of foreign and irrelevant ideas. It seems to have been very strong in Sir Isaac Newton, whose liability During to abstraction has already been alluded to. the two years,' says Biot, which he spent in preparing and developing his immortal work, Philosophe Naturalis Principia Mathematica, he lived only to calculate and to think. Oftentimes lost in the contemplation of these grand objects, he acted unconsciously; his thoughts appearing to preserve no connexion with the ordinary affairs of life. It is said, that frequently, on rising in the morning, he would sit down on his bedside, arrested by some new conception, and would remain for hours together engaged in tracing it out, without dressing • System of Phrenology, p. 135. himself.' To one who asked him, on some occasion, The instances of abstraction upon record are so numerous that a volume might easily be filled with them. Hogarth, the illustrious painter, affords a good specimen. Having got a new carriage, he went in it to the Mansion-House, for the purpose of paying a visit to the Lord Mayor. On leaving the house he went out by a different door from that by which he entered, and found that it rained hard. Notwithstanding this, he walked homewards, and reached his own dwelling drenched to the skin. His wife seeing him in this state, asked him how it happened, and what had become of his carriage since he had not returned home in it. The truth was, that he had actually forgotten he had a carriage, or had gone in one at all. The following case, from the pleasant style in which it is told, will amuse the reader. It is a case of one of the most profound and clearheaded philosophical thinkers, and one of the most amiable of men, becoming so completely absorbed in his own reflections, as to loose the perception of external things, and almost that of his own identity and existence. There are few that have paid any attention to the finance of this country, but must have heard of Dr Robert Hamilton's essay on the National debt,' which fell on the houses of parliament like a bombshell, or, There are other writings of his in which rather, which rose and illuminated their darkness like an orient sun. one knows not which most to admire-the profound and accurate, science, the beautiful arrangement, or the clear expression. Yet, in public, the man was a shaddow; pulled off his hat to his own wife in the streets, and apologized for not having the pleasure of her acquaintance; went to his classes in the college on the dark mornings, with one of her white stockings on the one leg, and one of his own black ones on the other; often spent the whole time of the meeting in moving from the table the hats of the students, which they as on him, and then fined them for coming to insult him. constantly returned; sometimes invited them to call He would run against a cow in the road, turn round, beg her pardon, madam,' and hope she was not hurt. at other times he would run against posts, and chide them for not getting out of his way; and yet his conversation at the same time, if any body happened to be with him, was perfect logic and perfect music. Were it not that there may be a little poetic license in Aberdeen story-telling, a volume might be filled with anecdotes of this amiable and excellent man, all tending, to prove how wide the distinction is between first rate thought and that merely animal use of the organs of sense which prevents ungifted mortals from walking into wells. The fish-market at Aberdeen, if still where it used to be, is near the Dee, and has a stream passing through it that falls into that river. The fish women expose their wares in large baskets. The doctor one day marched into that place, where his attention was attracted by a curiously figured stone in a stack of chimneys. He advanced towards it, till he was interrupted by one of the benches, from which, however, he tumbled one of the baskets into the stream, which was bearing the fish to their native element. The visage of the lady was instantly in lightning, and her voice in thunder; but the object of her wrath was deaf to the loudest sounds, and blind to the most alarming colors. She stamped, gesticulated, scolded, brought a crowd that filled the place; but the philosopher turned not from his eager gaze and his inward meditations on the stone. While the woman's breath held good, she did not seem to heed, but when that began to fail, and the violence of the act moved not one muscle of the object, her rage felt no bounds: she seized him by the breast, and yelling, in an effort of despair, spagh ta ma, or I'll burst,' sank down among the remnant of her fish in a state of complete exhaustion; and before she had recovered, the doctor's reverie was over, and he had taken his departure." 4 Many curious anecdotes of a similar kind are related of the Rev Dr George Harvest, one of the ministers of Thames Ditton. So confused on some occasion, were the ideas of this singular man, that he has been known to write a letter to one person, address it to a second, and send it to a third. He was once on the eve of being married to the bishop's daughter, when having gone a gudgeon-fishing, he forgot the circumstance, and overstaid the canonical hour, which so offended the lady, that she indignantly broke off the match. If a beggar happened to take off his hat to him on the streets, in hopes of receiving alms, he would make him a bow, tell him he was his most humble servant, and walk on. He has been known on Sunday to forget the days on which he was to officiate, and would walk into church with his gun under his arm, to ascertain what the people wanted there. Once, when he was playing at backgammon, he poured out a glass of wine, and it being his turn to throw, having the box in one hand and the glass in the other, and being extremely dry, and unwilling to lose any time, he swallowed down both the dice, and discharged the wine upon the dice-board. Another time,' says the amusing narrative which has been published of his peculiarities, in one of his absent fits, he mistoook his friend's house, and went into another, the door of which happened to stand open; and no servant being in the way, he rambled all over the house, till, coming into a middle room, where there was an old lady ill in bed of the quincy, he stumbled over the night stool, threw a close-horse down, and might not have ended there, had not the affrighted patient made a noise at his intrusion, which brought up the servants, who, on finding Dr Harvest in the room, instead of the apothecary that was momentarily expected, quieted the lady's fears, who by this time was taken with such an immoderate fit of laughter at his confusion, that it broke the quincy in her throat, and she lived many years afterwards to thank Dr Harvest for his unlucky mistake. His notorious heedlessness was so apparent, that no one would lend him a horse, as he frequently lost his beast from under him, or, at least from out of his hands, it being his frequent practice to dismount and lead the horse, putting the bridle under his arm, which the horse sometimes shook off, or the intervention of a post occasioned it to fall; sometimes it was taken off by the boys, when the parson was seen drawing his bridle after him; and if any one asked him after the animal, he could not give the least account of it, or how he had lost it.' In short the blunders which he committed were endless, and would be considered incredible, were they not authenticated by incontestible evidence. Yet, notwithstanding all this, Harvest was a man of uncommon abilities, and an excellent scholar. Thus attired, he one day called at St. Paul's, shortly after having erected the statue of the benevolent Howard, aud before the boarding which enclosed the statue had been removed. One of his sons was em ployed, at this time, in finishing the statue. After remaining a short time, he complained of feeling soine what cold, on which the son proposed, as no one could overlook them, that he should put on, as a kind of temporary spencer, an old torn, green shag waistcoat, with a red stuff back, which had been left there by one of the workmen. He said it was a good thought, and accordingly buttoned the waistcoat over his handsome new coat. Shortly afterwards, he was missing, but returned in about an hour, stating that he had been to call on a gentleman in Doctor's Commons, and had sat chatting with his wife and daughters, whom he had never seen before; that he found them to be exceedingly pleasant women, though perhaps a little disposed to laugh and titter about he knew not what. Sir,' said the son, I am afraid I can explain their mysterious behavior; surely you have not kept on that waistcoat all the time?' But, as sure as I am a living man, I have,' said he, laughing heartily, and I can now account not only for the strange behavior of the ladies, but for all the jokes that have been cracked about me as I walked along the street-some crying let him alone, he does it for a wager, &c. &c.; all which, from being quite unconscious of my appearance, I thought was levelled at some other quiz that might be following near me; and I now recollect that, whenever I looked round for the object of their pleasantry, the people laughed, and the more so, as, by the merry force of sympathy, I laughed also, although I could not com prehend what it all meant.' I shall conclude by mentioning an anecdote of Mr Warton, the accomplished Professor of Poetry in the University of Oxford. This good divine having dined with some jolly company at a gentleman's house in that city, passing through the strects to the church, it being summer-time, his cars were loudly saluted with the cry of Live mackerel! This so much dwelt upon the Doctor's mind, that after a nap while the psalm was performing, as soon as the organ ceased playing, he got up in the pulpit, and with eyes half open. ened out All alive, alive oh!' thus inadvertently keeping up the reputation of a Latin proverb, which is translated in the following lines : 'Great wits to madness nearly are allied, And thin partitions do their bounds divide." The Professor of Poetry perhaps supposed himself yet with his companions at the convivial table." Mental absence is generally incurable. In stout subjects, depletion, purging, and low diet, will sometimes be of use. Where the affection seems to arise and internal stimuli afford the most probable means of from torpor of the nervous system, blistering the head relief. The person should associate as much as possi ble with noisy, bustling people, and shun solitude and all such studies as have a tendency to produce abstrac tion. CHAPTER XVIII. SLEEP OF PLANTS. During night, plants seem to exist in a state analogous to sleep. At this period they get relaxed, while Bacon, the celebrated sculptor, exhibited on one oc- their leaves droop and become folded together. Such casion, a laughable instance of absence of mind. Ba-is peculiarly the case with the tamarind tree, and the con was remarkably neat in his dress, and, according to the costume of the old school, wore, in fine weather, a powdered wig, ruffles, silver buckles, with silk stockings, &c., and walked with his gold-headed cane. *New Monthly Magazine,' vol. xxxviii. p. 510. leguminous plants with pinnated leaves; but wib almost all plants it takes place in a greater or lesser degree, although in some the change is much more staking than in others. The trefoil, the Oxalis, and other herbs with ternate leaves, sleep with their leaduta fold animals, however, there is this difference that while most plants become torpid in winter, only a small number of animals get into that state; but even in such dissimilitude we can trace an analogy; for as there are animals upon which winter has no torpifying influence, so are there likewise plants. The Helloborus hymalis or christmas rose, flowers at the end of December, and the Galanthus nivilis, or snow-drop, in the month of February. CHAPTER XIX. GENERAL MANAGEMENT OF SLEEP. ed together in the erect posture. The cause of the different states in which plants exist during the day and night has never been correctly ascertained-some attributing it to the influence of light, some to the vicissitudes of temperature, and others to atmospherical humidity. Probably the whole of these influences are concerned. It is very evident that the presence of certain stimuli during the day puts the leaves in a state of activity, and excites their development; while the want of such stimuli in the night time throws them into repose, relaxes them, and occasions them to be weighed down, as if the sustaining principle which kept them in energy was suspended in the torpor of sleep The principal of these stimoli is unquestionably light; indeed, Linnæus, from the observation of stove plants, seems to have demonstrated that it is the withdrawing In the foregoing pages, I have detailed at length all flight, and not of heat, which produces the relaxation, the principal phenomena of sleep; and it now only reor Sleep of Plants, as it is commonly denominated. mains to state such circumstances as affect the comThe effect of light upon the leaves of the Acacia is fort and healthfulness of the individual while in that peculiarly striking. At sunrise they spread themselves condition. The first I shall mention is the nature of out horizontally; as the heat increases they become the chamber in which we sleep; this should be always elevated, and at noon shoot vertically upwards: but as large and airy. In modern houses, these requisites are soon as the sun declines they get languid and droop, too much overlooked; and, while the public rooms are and during night are quite pendant and relaxed. Du- of great dimensions, those appropriated for sleeping are ring day, the leaves of some plants are spread out, and little better than closets. This error is exceedingly displayed, and at the same time inclined towards the detrimental to health. The apartments wherein so sun. Those of the Helianthus annuus, the Helianthe-great a portion of life is passed, should always be mum annuum, and Croton tinctorium follow the course roomy, and, if possible, not placed upon the groundof the sun in their position; and most buds and flow-floor, because such a situation is more apt to be damp ers have a tendency to turn their heads in the direction of the great luminary of day. As an instance of this let us look at the sun flower, which confronts the source of light with its broad yellow expansion of aspect, and hangs its gorgeons head droopingly so soon as the object of its worship declines. The leaves of a great number of vegetables present changes in their position corresponding to the different hours of the day. Who does not know,' says Wildenow, that the species of Lupinus, especially Lupinus luteus turn, in the open air, their leaves and stalks towards the sun, and follow its course in so steady a manner, as to enable us to specify the hour of the day from their direction. Such phenomena were not unknown to Pliny and Theophrastus. The analogy between animal and vegetable life is still farther demonstrated by the well known fact, that while some creatures, such as the cat and owl, sleep during the day, and continue awake at night, certain plants do the same thing. Such is the case with the Tragopogon luteum, which becomes closed, or in other words, goes to sleep at nine in the morning, and opens at night. Every hour of the day, indeed, has some particular plant which then shuts itself up hence the idea of the Flower Dial by means of which the hour of the day can be told with tolerable accuracy. Some plants, which shut themselves up in the day time, flower at night. The night-flowering Cereus, a species of Cactus, is a beautiful instance of the kind; and there are other plants which exhibit the same interesting phenomenon. Nothing, indeed, can be more beautiful than the nocturnal flowering of certain members of the vegetable world. Linnæus used to go out at night with a lantern into his garden to have an opportunity of witnessing this remarkable peculiarity in the plants by which it is exhibited. The analogy between the two kingdoms is rendered yet more striking, when it is recollected that (with such exceptions as the above,) plants increase much more rapidly during night, which is their time of sleep, than in the day-time, which may be considered the period of their active or waking existence. The state in which plants exists in the winter season resembles the hybernation of animals: there is the same torpor and apparent extinction of vitality. Heat and light have the power of both reviving plants and putting an end to hybernation. Between plants and and ill ventilated than higher up. The next consideration applies to the bed itself, which ought to be large, and not placed close to the wall, but at some distance from it, both to avoid any dampness which may exist in the wall, and admit a freer circulation of air. The curtains should never be drawn closely together, even in the coldest weather; and when the season is not severe, it is a good plan to remove them altogether. The bed or mattress ought to be rather hard. Nothing is more injurious to health than soft beds; they effeminate the individual, render his flesh soft and flabby, and incapacitate him from undergoing any privation. The texture of which the couch is made, is not of much consequence, provided it is not too soft: hence, feather-beds, or mattresses of hair or straw are almost equally good, if suitable in this particular. I may mention, however, that the hair mattress, from being cooler, and less apt to imbibe moisture, is preferable during the summer season, to a bed of feathers. Those soft yielding feather-beds, in which the body sinks deeply, are highly improper, from the unnatural heat and perspiration which they are sure to induce. Air-beds have been lately recommended, but I can assert, from personal experience, that they are the worst that can possibly be employed. They become very soon heated to such an unpleasant degree as to render it imposs ble to repose upon them with any comfort. For bed-ridden persons, whose skin has become irritated by long lying, the hydrostatic bed, lately brought into use in some of the public hospitals, is the best. The pillow as well as the bed, should be pretty hard. When very soft, the head soon sinks in it, and becomes unpleasantly heated. The objection made to air-beds applies with equal force to air-pillows, which I several times attempted to use, but was compelled to abandon, owing to the disagreeable heat that was generated in a few minutes. With regard to the covering, there can be no doubt that it is more wholesome to lie between sheets than blankets. For the same reason, people should avoid sleeping in flannel nightshirts. Such a degree of warmth as is communicated by those means is only justifiable in infancy and childhood, or when there is actual disease or weakness of constitution. Parents often commit a great error in bringing up their young people under so effeminate a system. |