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various sources: nor has he ventured to speak with decision of the numerous hypotheses and varied modes of treatment, to which this melancholy disease has given rise.

Perhaps, indeed, no disorder is more obscure in its nature than epilepsy, and none less likely to be soon satisfactorily elucidated. The observations of physicians have proved beyond all question that epilepsy, although only an occasional disease, sometimes arises from a cause continually existing in the body, and at others from one which is temporary in its application that it often has its origin from exhaustion, and still more frequently from plethora and the action of stimuli. In all cases, however, it is essentially a disease of the nervous system; sometimes produced by powerful mental impressions, and at others by mechanical irritation of the encephalon :on certain occasions by a morbid change in some part of an external nerve, and on others by the simple irritation of some of the extremities of those that are distributed to the viscera. It varies in intensity, from the vacant steadfast look and temporary loss of consciousness, to the fully formed convulsive paroxysm, with gnashing of the teeth, foaming at the mouth, and swoln countenance. The usual course of it is to increase in violence, gradually to weaken the intellect, and at length to produce complete insanity, which terminates only by the patient's death.

These melancholy consequences are, no doubt, often the result of changes going on within the skull, from tumours, exostoses, thickening of the bones, &c.: but it is probable that in other cases they result from the mere repetition of the epileptic paroxysm itself, which, by sudden and violent distention of the encephalic vessels, and perhaps by the intestine action of the fibres of the encephalon, must without doubt injure deeply that fine and hitherto inscrutable texture, on which the perfection of the intellectual functions depends. We are inclined even to go farther; and to assert that the repetition of the epileptic paroxysm may produce at length palpable changes in the contents of the skull, and thus give rise to those appearances which have been described by anatomists, and have been usually assigned as the causes instead of the effects of epileptic disease.

This remark, we conceive, applies in some measure to the discoveries made by Professor Wenzel of Mayence, respecting the state of the cerebellum in epileptics. The cases which he examined were those of persons who died under the worst forms of epilepsy; in whom, it is to be presumed, the disease had long existed, and must therefore have effected all those changes on the encephalon which it is capable of pro

ducing.

ducing. His observations seem to have led him to the premature conclusion that epilepsy is, in all cases, to be traced to changes in the structure of the cerebellum: but the pathological researches of others sufficiently prove the inaccuracy of this opinion. It will be abundantly curious, however, if it shall turn out that, in the great proportion of old aggravated cases of pure epilepsy, the cerebellum has suffered a morbid alteration; and it will afford an interesting illustration of the doctrines lately promuglated by M. Flourens, respecting the regulating influence of the cerebellum over the motive powers of the body. Among the writers who, in detailing the results of their inquiries into the causes of epilepsy, have asserted that in such cases the cerebellum shewed no marks of disease, is M. P. A. Prost, whose work (Médecine éclairée, &c.) now lies before us. In his dissections of epileptics, he uniformly discovered a greater or smaller number of worms in the large intestines: but Dr. Cooke is not correct in supposing that he considers epilepsy as always occasioned by the presence of these animals. Dr. C. has repeatedly referred to this writer under the name of Dr. Prout, but in terms which lead us to doubt whether he has ever seen M. Prost's work. It is indeed but little known in this country, and seems by no means to have attracted that attention to which its merits intitle it.

Epilepsy, like all diseases which have baffled in most instances the best efforts of art, can present a list of remedies of the most formidable extent: but this very fact is a sufficient evidence of the general inefficacy of the means adopted for its cure. Dr. Cooke has devoted much more than a half of his volume to this branch of his subject: but we do not think that he has here exhibited that discrimination and sound judgment, of which the previous part of his work has afforded ample evidence. The practices of superstition and prejudice, the crude projects of the aspirant after professional notoriety, and the methods of the most learned and experienced of the profession, are discussed with almost equal minuteness and respectful deference; and the reader is left to select from this accumulated mass of materials, the mode which he may deem most likely to effect a cure of the disease. We must admit, however, in justice to Dr. C., that his object was to present a complete and candid exposition of all that was known on the subject of the disease in question, rather than to discuss the merits of the several hypotheses and remedial projects to which it has given rise. Altogether, the perusal of this concluding portion of Dr. Cooke's undertaking has afforded us much gratification, and its merits require

require that we should recommend it to the notice of the members of the medical profession. The modest tone and good sense which are conspicuous in the following passage, we are convinced, will be duly appreciated by our readers:

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'I have now finished what I had to communicate respecting the history, causes, and method of cure, of apoplexy, palsy, and epilepsy. In my account of these very important nervous dis eases, I have endeavoured to abstract, to condense, to methodize, and to convey, in clear and plain language, the best information I could collect from a great number of writers, both antient and modern. I cannot flatter myself that, by the investigation which I have made of these obscure disorders, I have done much towards the illustration of their nature; but I do hope that the description I have given of the experiments, observations, opinions, and practice, of the most celebrated physicians in various ages, respecting them, will prove, in some degree, useful, both by lessening the labours of the student, and by affording practical assistance to persons who are actually engaged in the duties of the profession.'

ART. VII. A Collection of Poems, chiefly Manuscript, and from living Authors. Edited for the Benefit of a Friend, by Joanna Baillie. 8vo. pp. 330. 17. 1s. Boards. Longman and Co. 1823.

THE benevolent feelings, which gave birth to this publication,

might justly intitle it to an indulgent criticism; for it was undertaken by Miss Baillie, with the patronage of a numerous and fashionable list of subscribers, for the benefit of a friend who has been lately visited by misfortune. It stands not, however, in need of any indulgence, since the larger part of the poetry which composes it belongs to too high an order to fear animadversion. Here and there, in common with all collections, it is sprinkled with a few productions which should not have migrated from the peaceful obscurity of the writing-desk, or have fluttered through their little lives in any other shape than that of manuscript: but, on the other hand, they serve to throw the pieces of more distinguished merit into bolder relief; and such names as those of Miss Baillie, Mrs. Barbauld, Sir Walter Scott, Mr. Rogers, Mr. Sotheby, and others, are sufficient to redeem the flatness of humbler contributions.

It would be rendering but imperfect justice to this interesting anthology, to pass over with slight or hasty mention the elegant sonnets from the pen of the late Mr. Charles JohnTheir amiable author has been recently snatched from the affections and hopes of his friends: but these beautiful flowerets

ston.

flowerets will long bloom around his grave. Some of them were composed under the roof and occasionally submitted to the eye of the person who is tracing this feeble memorial of his merits, and who still feels the foreboding pressure of his hand with which he parted from him for ever. They are in the best manner of Petrarch, and are clothed in the hue of that calm and settled melancholy with which a noble mind, oppressed but not subdued, contemplates the awful approaches of the final hour. Manly resignation, enduring and virtuous resolve, were never better pourtrayed than in the following sonnet, written under the mournful presagings of the premature fate which awaited him:

'I've seen my day before its noon decline,

And dark is still the future, nor, alas!

Can Hope, with all the magic of her glass,
Irradiate the deep gloom which fate' malign
Has gather'd round; yet will I not repine;
For tho' the courage, that can do and dare,
Be brightest glory, unsubdued to bear,
That calmer, better virtue may be mine;
For this is of the mind; to slay, be slain,
Asks but a moment's energies, and Fame
First wakens and then keeps alive the flame;

But Patience must itself, itself sustain,

And must itself reward, nor hope to find

The praise or the compassion of mankind.'

In our judgment, an uncommon value has been conferred on this volume by the spirited translation, from the hand of Mr. Sotheby, of the Lay of the Bell from the German of Schiller.

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"The most original and beautiful, perhaps," says the author of 'An Autumn near the Rhine,'" of all Schiller's poems, unequalled by any thing of Goethe's, is called The Song of the Bell,'varying irregular lyric strain. The casting of a bell is, in Germany, an event of solemnity and rejoicing. In the neighbourhood of the Hartz, and the other mine-districts, you read formal announcements in the newspapers from bell-founders, that at a given time and spot a casting is to take place, to which they invite all their friends. An entertainment out of doors is prepared, and held with much festivity. Schiller, in a few short stanzas, forming a sort of chorus, describes the whole process of the melting, the casting, and the cooling of the bell, with a technical truth and a felicity of expression, in which the sound of the sharp sonorous rhymes and expressive epithets constantly forms an echo to the sense. Between these technical processes he breaks forth into the most beautiful episodaic pictures of the various scenes of life, with which the sounds of the bell are connected.""

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The scenes of life depictured by Schiller in this enchanting poem are the solemn or extraordinary incidents announced by the bell, viz. birth, marriage, death, fire, and rebellion. These bold conceptions and affecting images are incomparably more susceptible of translation than the stanzas which describe the process of the workmen, in those short and rapid verses in which we seem to hear the blows of the hammer, and the hurried steps of the bell-founders, who are employed in the fusion of the burning metal. Mr. Sotheby, however, has, in a great measure, vanquished this difficulty, and we have seldom seen a more vigorous translation.

Billets of the fir-wood take,

Every billet dry and sound;

That flame on gather'd flame awake,
And vault with fire the furnace round.
Cast the copper in,

Quick, due weight of tin,
That the bell's tenacious food,
Rightly flow in order'd mood.

• What now within the earth's deep womb
Our hands by help of fire prepare,
Shall on yon turret mark our doom,
And loudly to the world declare!
There its aërial station keeping,

Touch many an ear to latest time;
Shall mingle with the mourner's weeping,
And tune to holy choirs its chime.
All that to earth-born sons below

The changeful turns of fortune bring,
The bell from its metallic brow

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In warning sounds shall widely ring. 'Lo! I see white bubbles spring:

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Well! the molten masses flow.
Haste, ashes of the salt-wort fling,
Quick'ning the fusion deep below.
Yet, from scoria free
Must the mixture be,

That from the metal, clean and clear,

Its sound swell tuneful on the ear.

• Hark! 'tis the birth-day's festive ringing!
It welcomes the beloved child,
Who now life's earliest way beginning,
In sleep's soft arm lies meek and mild.
As yet in time's dark lap repose,
Life's sunshine lot, and shadowy woes,
While tenderest cares of mothers born
Watch o'er her infant's golden morn.
The years like winged arrows fly:

The

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