not capable of containing more than half a dozen people. The bottom is muddy, covered with a vapour, destructive to animal life. The guide prepares himself with two lighted torches to shew the effect; the moment that one of them is brought within a few inches of the bottom it is instantly extinguished. The vapour does not rise above a foot from the surface, and is confined to a part of the cave. The experiment of the torch is sufficient to exemplify the effects, but a number of dogs are kept to gratify the miserable curiosity of those who choose to see their sufferings. The animal, after being held a minute in the cave, is thrown into strong convulsions, and would soon expire if suffered to remain; but as his torture must be repeated to gratify the next traveller who comes, he is taken out before he is quite dead and thrown into the lake, where he soon recovers. From this effect upon dogs, the hole, for it is nothing else, receives its name.

A little distant from the grotto del Cane, and on the border of the lake, are the sweating baths of St. Germain. These are some low buildings constructed over creviees in the earth, through which hot sulphureous vapours arise, which are considered of great service in many disorders. The sick from some of the hospitals at Naples are occasionally brought here, and placed for some hours in these rooms. The walls and floors are covered with sulphur, nitre, deposited by the vapour in the most beautiful forms. The vapour is continually flying out in different places, and some of the rooms are so hot as to occasion immediate perspiration.

This circular valley,in the centre of which is situated the lake of Agnano, is without doubt the crater of an extinguished volcano. The appearance of the sides evidently denotes this, and these vapours are remnants of its ancient volcanick state. The æra must be very remote when this crater was in a burning state, as no record of it is found in history, and the sides of it are now covered with a fertile soil; and to effect this process, nature requires the aid of many centuries.

On my return from visiting the lake, as it was a fine afternoon, I did not return immediately to the city, but rode down to the shore, which is about two miles from the grotto. On the left was the promontory of Posilipo, and to the right the beach extends towards Pozzuoli In front, and but a short distance from the shore, is the island of Nisida; this is a mere rock, of small circumference, rising almost perpendicularly out of the water; it contains a small fort. It is a place where vessels perform quarantine and unlade their car goes, when they come from any country where contagious diseases prevail. The directors of the health office will not permit them to come within the mole of Naples, and they are obliged to remain here forty or sixty days, and sometimes for a longer period.

It is a pleasing ride from the beach to the grotto, and a common excursion in the afternoon. On returning through the grotto towards evening, if the servant is not provided with a torch, it is the custom to purchase at a house close by the entrance a little bunch of bark stripped from the grape vines, which burns long enough to light you through the grotto.

1

IN my last number, as may be remembered by a few, I admittedthat gentlemen of the faculty are too fond of indulging in theoretical speculations. After remarking that all mankind were prone to the the same lazy habit, I stated some causes which particularly led physicians into it. The reasons there stated were founded upon a presumption that the Doctors knew the truth, but could not make it intelligible to others. But we are still more strongly induced to talk nonsense, when we are unable to make an explanation satisfactory to ourselves. For how shall we avow this to the patient, and thus authorize him to doubt our omniscience. Explain we must; and here again if others are satisfied with our sophistry, which they may easily be made to be, we are apt to feel contented with it like wise.

Let it not be supposed that I am making a precious confession of the ignorance of the faculty. Doubt not, gentle reader, that we are stored with science. But our knowledge is still progressive. We shall not for a century to come know what plants will spring up in a garden, when we know not what seed has been sown in it; nor shall we sooner than that be able to assign to every vegetable its true place by seeing its first germination, or by viewing a single leaf. The science of physicks is embarrassed by its relation to facts; it has not yet approached so near to pure intelligence as mathematicks.

Our patients lead us to adopt false doctrine not only by oblig

No. 6.

ing us to talk, but also by hurry ing us to act. We must do something, at least so the Doctors commonly think, or we shall be displaced, not by the more knowing, but by the more daring. Under such circumstances the medical man discovers that his reputation depends not so much on his real acquisitions, as evidenced in his practice, as upon keeping up a good face, and talking well.

But it is asked, what all this leads to? Must the patient detail his complaints and then receive his orders without any explanation of his situation, without any intimation of the importance of his disease, or of the probable course of it? Must no good lady follow the Doctor to the door to ask what he really thinks, and kindly to suggest her own remarks? I answer that I propose not such severe restrictions. If principles are straight lines, as practice is never governed by one principle alone, so the line of practice is variously inflected. The anxiety of the sick and their friends must be attended to, and even their curiosity grati fied when it can easily be done. But if a physician is employed, in whom a proper confidence is reposed, he should be allowed his own time to form and to express his sentiments; or, at least, the patient and his friends should only give him occasional opportunities of making explanations, without imposing on him an absolute necessity of so doing. The physician at the same time should feel bound to state every thing within his knowledge, of which the communica tion can benefit the patient.

C.

tradictory statements and testimony, are indeed far removed from the tranquillity and cheerful devotion of the worshipper of nature; but the avaricious merchant, the wily speculator, and the idle gentleman are also the fit subjects for the experiments of spleen and the tortures of disappointment. The miserable beings, who haunt the publick and private places of dissipation, like thin ghosts of departed reality, are far from the sweet complacency of rural scenery and the endless delights of varying nature. Look at the sad countenances of some, and remark the malignant joyfulness of others, who are occupied in schemes, in folly, in riot, in nonsense, and wickedness,...and then wonder at their wishes and pursuits. With such beings the poet has no sympathy. He hates their melancholy and their turbulence. He flies from their contact, as the traveller from a storm, and is glad that he knows their folly only by instinctive aver sion; and he rejoices that the silent contagion of their complaints never affects the salubrity of his groves, and that he hears their triumphs and huzzas only by the gentle undulations of distant noise, which softly flow to his retreat. If from necessity he is sometimes obliged to be present at scenes, which his poetry and purity reject, he sighs for his clear sky or shady woodwalk, and exclaims in the language of Maternus, Me verò dulces, ut Virgilius ait, Musa, remotum a sollicitudinibus, et curis, et necessitate quotidie aliquid contra animum faciendi in illa sacra illosque fontes ferant. "But, as Virgil sweetly sings, me let the sacred Muses lead to their soft retreats, their living fountains and melodious groves, where I may dwell, remote from care, master of myself, and under no necessity of do

ing every day what my heart condemns."

No one will deny the felicity of the poet thus situated, for his cherished recess is far from the tu mults and strife of the world, and yet if inclination prompt, he may taste in full luxuriance the various blessings of society. Virgil sometimes left his retreat and honoured the capital of the world with his presence; he was welcomed at the banquets of Augustus, and at the theatre he received the applauses of the Roman people. Testes Augusti epistolæ, testes ipse populus, qui auditis in theatro versibus Virgilii, surrexit universus, et fortè præsentem spectantemque Virgilium veneratus es, sic quasi Augustum. "To prove this, the letters of Augustus are still extant; and the people, we know, hearing in the theatre some verses of Virgil, when he himself was present, rose in a body and paid him every mark of homage, with a degree of veneration, nothing short of what they usually offered to the emperour." such scenes were not congenial to the purity and elevation of his mind. He rather loved his green shades and sequestered walks; he admired loneliness and cool tranquillity, where the heart may find utterance for devotion, and poetry may soften the passions to mellowness.

Yet

In his villa near Naples, Virgil enjoyed all the quiet and silence he loved. He was tired of the brawls and civil contentions, which had so long agitated the Roman commonwealth. Poetry he adored, and with the fullest inspiration of the Muses he composed his Georgics and part of the Eneid in the pleasantness of retirement. He there loved to muse on the mellowness of the landscape, to study the curious economy of his bees, and to revel in the ransack of Troy, and luxuriate in the future splendour of Iulus. Such was the lovely mind of the poet, that, though he was equal to the most dignified elevation in heroick poetry, he continually adverts to nature and her analogies. We, accompany Eneas to hell with sublime feelings, and with great interest are we present at his combat with Turnus, yet how do we love to linger on the tranquil inlet, retreating from the boisterous ocean on the African shore; and is it not most pleasant, like Melibæus, to talk of liberty and rural life with fortunate old Tityrus, recubans sub tegmine fagi. Study the biography of Virgil, read his Eclogues and Georgics, and you will find how much his mind was devoted to the poetry of nature and its consequent felicity. He is continually delighted with the fruits of his own farm, the shady beech, the curling vines, the hour of evening, the high rock, the young sheep, and the wood-pigeon. With such scenes and objects before him, his fancy was fertile and his pictures were true. His reflections and remarks are perfectly correspondent. They have all the beauty of truth and all the loveliness of morals. It seems as if

the purity and innocence of nature were fitted necessarily to excite feelings of goodness and sentiments of piety. Virgil, from his single objects or his landscapes, loves to glide gently into morals; the tale is told, and the application is known; the picture is complet ed, and its virtue is irresistible; the poet has instructed like a preacher, and the preacher has charmed like a poet.

Such sublime effects were partly owing to his retirement from the nonsense and business of the world. He fled from the stupid' admiration of the crowd, and the incessant din of parasites and fools, to the tranquillity of his villa and the pure musick of nature. Here' he passed his hours as his verses have celebrated, and enjoyed such felicity as Maternus has eulogized, Ac ne fortunam quidem vatum, et illud felix contubernium,comparare timuerim cum inquietà et anxiâ oratorum vitâ : licet illos certamina et pericula sua ad consulatus evexerint, malo securum et secrctum Virgilii secessum, in quo tamen neque apud divum Augustum gratia caruit, neque apud populum Romanum notitiâ. "If we now consider the happy condition of the true poet, and that easy commerce in which he passes his time, need we fear to compare his situation with that of the boasted orator, who leads a life of anxiety, oppressed by business and over, whelmed with care? But it is said, his contention, his toil, and danger, are steps to the consulship. How much more eligible was the soft retreat in which Virgil passed his days, beloved by the prince, and honoured by the people!"

QUINTILIAN.