Experience has taught us that the nature of our food is not a matter of indifference to the respiratory organs. Diseased lungs are exasperated by a certain diet, and pacified by one of an opposite kind. The celebrated diver, Mr. Spalding, observed, that whenever he used a diet of animal food, or drank spirituous liquors, he consumed in a much shorter period the oxygen of the atmospheric air in his diving-bell; and he therefore, on such occasions, confined himself to vegetable diet. He also found the same effect to arise from the use of fermented liquors, and he accordingly restricted himself to the potation of simple water. The truth of these results is confirmed by the habits of the Indian pearl-divers, who always abstain from every alimentary stimulus previous to their descent into the ocean.—Dr. Paris on Diet.
THE MONTHS
The season has now advanced to full maturity. The corn is yielding to the sickle, the husbandmen,
"By whose tough labours, and rough hands,"
our barns are stored with grain, are at their toils, and when nature is despoiled of her riches and beauty, will, with glad and joyous heart, celebrate the annual festival of
Hark! the ripe and hoary rye
Waving white and billowy,
Gives a husky rustle, as
Fitful breezes fluttering pass.
See the brown and bending wheat,
By its posture seems to meet
The harvest's sickle, as it gleams
Like the crescent moon in streams,
Brown with shade and night that run
Under shores and forests dun.
Lusty Labour, with tired stoop,
Levels low, at every swoop,
Armfuls of ripe-coloured corn,
Yellow as the hair of morn;
And his helpers track him close,
Laying it in even rows,
On the furrow's stubbly ridge;
Nearer to the poppied hedge.
Some who tend on him that reaps
Fastest, pile it into heaps;
And the little gleaners follow
Them again, with whoop and halloo
When they find a hand of ears
More than falls to their compeers.
Ripening in the dog-star's ray,
Some, too early mown, doth lay;
Some in graceful shocks doth stand
Nodding farewell to the land
That did give it life and birth;
Some is borne, with shout and mirth,
Drooping o'er the groaning wain.
Through the deep embowered lane;
And the happy cottaged poor,
Hail it, as it glooms their door,
With a glad, unselfish cry,
Though they'll buy it bitterly.
And the old are in the sun,
Seeing that the work is done
As it was when age was young;
And the harvest song is sung;
And the quaint and jocund tale
Takes the stint-key from the ale,
And as free and fast it runs
As a June rill from the sun's
Dry and ever-drinking mouth:—
Mirth doth alway feel a drowth.
Butt and barrel ceaseless flow
Fast as cans can come and go;
One with emptied measures comes
Drumming them with tuneful thumbs;
One reels field-ward, not quite sober,
With two cans of ripe October,
Some of last year's brewing, kept
Till the corn of this is reaped.
Now 'tis eve, and done all labour,
And to merry pipe and tabor,
Or to some cracked viol strummed
With vile skill, or table drummed
To the tune of some brisk measure,
Wont to stir the pulse to pleasure,
Men and maidens timely beat
The ringing ground with frolic feet;
And the laugh and jest go round
Till all mirth in noise is drowned.
Literary Souvenir.
Sir,—In No. 266 of the Mirror, Sagittarius wishes to know the name of the person whose armorial bearings are emblazoned at Croydon palace.
From the blazon he has given, it is rather difficult to find out; but I should think they are meant for those of king Richard II. Impaled on the dexter side with those of his patron saint, Edward the Confessor. Bearings that may be seen in divers places at Westminster Hall, rebuilt by that monarch.1
I have subjoined the proper blazon of the arms, which is azure, a cross patonce between five martlets or, impaling France and England quarterly, 1st. and 4th. azure three fleurs de lis. 2nd. or, 2nd and 3rd Gules, 3 lions passant guardant in pale, or.
The supporting of the arms with angels, &c. was a favourite device of Richard, as may be seen in divers antiquarian and topographical works.
It is probable the hall of Croydon palace was built during the reign of Richard, which will account for his arms being placed there.
I am, &c.
C. F.
DEATH OF MR. CANNING
The lamentable and sudden death of the Right Hon. George Canning has produced a general sensation throughout this country. At the opening of the present year our nation deplored the loss of a prince endeared to the people by his honest worth—but a short interval has elapsed and again the country is plunged in sorrow for the loss of one of its most zealous supporters—one of its chiefest ornaments—one of its staunchest friends—and one of its most eloquent and talented statesmen! The life of the late George Canning furnishes much matter for meditation and thought. From it much may be learnt. He was a genius, in the most unlimited sense of the word; and his intellectual endowments were commanding and imperative. Of humble origin he had to contend with innumerable difficulties, consequent to his station in life,—and although his talents, which were of the first order, befitted him for the first rank in society, that rank he did not attain until the scene of this world was about to be closed for ever from him. It may be said of this eminent man, that he owed nothing to patronage—his talents directed him to his elevated station, and to his intellectual superiority homage was made,—not to the man.
But, in other respects, the loss of Mr. Canning is a national bereavement. He was one of the master-spirits of the age. His very name was distinguished—for he has added to the literature of his country—by his writings and his eloquence he has stimulated the march of mind; he has seconded the exertions of liberal friends to the improvements of the uneducated, and he has patronized the useful as well as the fine arts, philosophy and science, of his country. To expatiate at greater length would