tember, and then the banks of the Gironde present a scene of activity and bustle. Every road is crowded with ox-carts and cheerful groups of pickers; the air resounds with songs and laughter. But beautiful as the locality appears, it abounds in inarshes and stagnant pools which render it unhealthy; and gay and cheerful as are the groups of vine-dressers, fearful scenes have been enacted on that very ground. There raged the horrors of the civil war, when the revolutionary party overcame their antagonists the Girondins, and swamped even the very name of the department. One cannot regard the old lighthouse-la Tour de Cordouan--without remembering the deep tragedy of the revolutionary struggle, when the lily of St. Louis gave place to the Bonnet Rouge.

The present building is elegant in form and rich in architectural ornament. The structure is circular, the vestibule extensive and carefully fitted up, while the lofty turret is surmounted by the lantern, the light of which affords a safe guide to mariners entering the estuary of the Gironde. The first story of the tower is known as the king's apartment, richly and profusely ornamented, the exterior decorated by a colonnade of Doric pillars which support the first gallery. The second story has been consecrated as a chapel, and is of a circular form, enriched by Corinthian pillars and sculptures of great beauty; it is lighted by a double range of windows, while over the entrance to the chapel is a bust of the architect, Louis de Foix, admirably executed, together with an appropriate inscription. The tower which rises from the summit of the chapel is occupied by a winding staircase, lighted by large and elegant windows; a gallery surrounds the pharos, from which a commanding view may be had of the neighbouring coast line.

The lighthouse of Cordouan is more richly ornamented, and possesses greater attraction in an architectural point of view, than any other on the coast of France. In structures of this sort attention is usually absorbed in the utility of the building rather than in any graceful appearance which it may present to the eye. But both beauty and utility have been united in this ancient specimen; the harmony of its proportions, and the perfection of its decorations, are worthy of the strength of the tower and the firmness of its foundation. In these days utility is the great object of an architect, and for this taste is sometimes sacrificed and harmony disregarded; but Louis de Foix, in this sublime monument of his genius, has left an edifice not only beautiful, not only valuable in the navigation of the coast, but also a noble model of what such structures might be made.

The number of lighthouses on the French coast was, in 1839, fifty-nine; since that period the number has been augmented to 169, comprising thirty-seven of the first order. The beacon tower of Cordouan is one of very great importance, as the mouth of the Gironde is beset with sand-banks, rendering the passage difficult and dangerous to mariners quitting or entering the river. For antiquity, beauty, and utility, this lighthouse is peculiarly interesting.

FACTS IN THE HISTORY OF ANIMAL MAGNETISM.

THE history of animal magnetism furnishes some of the most remarkable illustrations on record of the influence, through the imagination, of the mind upon the body, and of the disposition in human nature which has led men, in all ages and nations of the world, to believe in the existence and agency of supernatural powers. A brief sketch, therefore, of its nature, and of some facts connected with its operation, may not be without interest.

The phenomena which animal magnetism has been conceived to produce in those to whom its agency is applied, may be comprehended under two classes: those which occur whilst the person operated upon remains awake, and those which take place whilst he is asleep, or in a state resembling sleep. To the former class of effects belong, first, various sensations, more or less painful, experienced particularly in those parts

of the body which form the seat of disease, and which enable the practitioner to detect where that seat actually is; secondly, convulsive and other nervous affections, which have been regarded by the advocates of this agency as salutary crises; and thirdly, the removal of all diseases with which the magnetised patient may be affected, the magnetic influence proving in this respect an universal curative of disease and preservative of health.

To the second class of effects under which magnetic phenomena may be included, belongs the power which magnetised persons are said to acquire of carrying on a continued conversation with the operator, without being at all sensible of the presence of others, and sometimes in a language, and upon matters, with which, in a wakeful state, they are altogether unacquainted; the power of discovering the thoughts of others; the power of receiving through the region of the stomach those impressions of external objects which, in ordinary circumstances, are received only through the peculiar organs of external sensation, or that power which, in the technical language of magnetism, is called the transference of the senses; the power of detecting the internal changes which have been produced by disease in their own bodies, or in those of others with whom they may be placed en rapport; the power of foretelling the nature of the changes which are to take place in their own maladies, or in those of others; the power of instinctively suggesting the best remedies for the cure of these diseases; together with various other extraordinary powers of a similar kind.

Such are the marvellous virtues attributed by its advocates to animal magnetism. To the former of these two classes of magnetic phenomena the early practitioners of this mysterious art confined their pretensions; but their modern followers extended their claims for the science to the wonderful manifestations included under the second class. In reference to the former, it may be remarked, that the singular physical properties possessed by the magnet suggested to philosophers, as early as the age of Thales (600 B.C.), the probability that it was capable of exerting some special influence upon the human system; and accordingly we find old writers ascribing to it various remarkable, but, at the same time, very opposite properties, some regarding it as possessed of decidedly injurious qualities, whilst others considered it as endowed with highly salutary medicinal powers. In his "Essay on Internal Diseases," Hippocrates, the father of medicine, recommended magnesian, or loadstone, as a purgative; subsequently, in the days of Galen it was employed in a pulverised state for a similar purpose; and so late as the fifteenth and sixteenth centuries its use in this manner was extended to the treatment of a large class of diseases. Pulverised loadstone was likewise employed as an external application. In Pliny's time it was used outwardly for discases of the eye, and for the cure of burns and scalds; and so on through the intervening centuries down to Paracelsus, the celebrated German physician and hermetic philosopher, who, in the sixteenth century, employed it largely as a remedy for numerous external injuries. And although Dr. Gilbert, an English physician, proved in the beginning of the following century that the magnetic properties of the loadstone were entirely destroyed in its pulverised state, the use of the powdered magnet, both as an internal and external remedial agent, continued for a century longer. Nor was the employment of the magnet in its entire state less ancient or general than that which was made of it as a powder. But this belief in its curative efficacy seems to have formed only a part of a great system, whose advocates appear to have recognised magnetism as a general power pervading the whole universe, and establishing connexion between all its various parts. It remained, however, for the celebrated Mesmer to construct out of these abstract notions of a universal magnetic influence, a regular system, which has taken his name, and which claims for animal magnetism, thus reduced to a science, all the wonderful powers to which reference has been made. These claims have been so extensively discussed, and so differently estimated, as to render useless any expression of opinion upon their merits.

Their celebrated author was born at Mersburg, in Suabia, in 1734. After studying medicine for several years in Vienna, he took his degree as Doctor of Medicine, and settled as physician in the Austrian capital. The first public announcement of his discovery of animal magnetism as a remedial agent was given by him, in 1775, in a letter to Dr. Unzer, of Altona. In his Memoire sur la Découverte du Magnétisme Animal, published in Paris four years later, he gives the following account of it:-" Animal magnetism is a fluid universally diffused; it is the medium of a mutual influence between the heavenly bodies, the earth, and animated bodies; it is continuous, so as to leave no void; its subtilty admits of no comparison; it is capable of receiving, propagating, communicating all the impressions of motion; it is susceptible of flux and reflux. The animal body experiences the effect of this agent; by insinuating itself into the substance of the nerves, it affects them immediately. There are observed, particularly in the human body, properties analogous to those of the magnet; and in it are discerned poles equally different and opposite. The action and the virtues of animal magnetism may be communicated from one body to other bodies, animate and inanimate. This action takes place at a remote distance, without the aid of any intermediate body; it is increased, reflected, by mirrors; communicated, propagated, augmented, by sound; its virtues may be accumulated, concentrated, transported. Although this fluid is universal, all animals are not equally susceptible of it; there are even some, though a very small number, which have properties so opposite, that their very presence destroys all the effects of this fluid on other bodies. Animal magnetism is capable of healing diseases of the nerves immediately, and others mediately. It perfects the action of medicines; it excites and directs salutary crises in such a manner, that the physician may render himself master of them. By its means he knows the state of health of each individual, and judges with certainty of the origin, the nature, and the progress of the most complicated diseases; he prevents their increase, and succeeds in healing them without, at any time, exposing his patient to dangerous effects or troublesome consequences, whatever be the age, the temperament, or the sex. In animal magnetism, nature presents a universal method of healing and preserving mankind."

As might be expected, the announcement of this new and marvellous agent excited violent controversy. With few exceptions, all the physicians and men of science in Vienna declared it to be chimerical, and its discoverer a cheat. Thus treated, Mesmer left the Austrian capital, and after travelling for some time through various parts of Germany and Switzerland, and performing some wonderful cures, he went to Paris in 1778. On reaching this new and favourable theatre for his exploits, his first care was to procure public apartments for the treatment of his patients. Hither flocked peer and peasant in such numbers, that his rooms were insufficient for the crowds who wished to avail themselves of his universal remedy. To enter into all the particulars of his career in Paris, however, would not be in keeping with the object of this short paper. As in Vienna, so in the French capital, the faculty, with a few zealous exceptions, were unanimous in their opposition. But, supported by the influence of many patients of rank, he continued to carry out his new theory with much éclat and success. He propounded the principles of his system to large and applauding audiences, and illustrated their application to the cure of diseases, to the complete satisfaction of all who heard him. He applied to the government and obtained the patronage of the queen, through whose influence he succeeded in his application for a chateau and its lands, with a large yearly pension, to enable him to carry out his principles on a more extensive scale. The grant, however, was coupled with the condition that a commission should be formed by the government to examine into and report upon his proceedings. With this Mesmer refused to comply, and soon after left Paris and repaired to Spa. Thither he was followed by many of his wealthiest and most influential patients, who, on condition that he would communicate to them his doctrine and practice, bound themselves to pay him the enormous sum of ten thousand louis d'or. On receiving this sum, Mesmer returned to

Paris, and recommenced his public practice as before; but, quarrelling with the disciples of his system, from whom he had received the sum just mentioned, he quitted France, and retired to his native place, where he died in the early part of 1815. Such is the history of the discoverer of animal magnetism, which, since his time, has more generally been called by his name.

The mode of bringing the magnetised under the influence of the magnetic fluid was peculiar. M. Bailly, who, together with Lavoisier and Benjamin Franklin, was appointed by the French government to examine into the principles of the system, gives a detailed account of the manner in which it was applied. In the middle of the room in which the patients were collected was placed a large circular vessel, made of oak, about a foot or a foot and a half in height; the interior of this vessel was filled with pounded glass, iron filings, and bottles containing magnetised water arranged symmetrically; the cover of the vessel was pierced with numerous holes, in which were placed polished iron rods of various lengths, and capable of being moved; this was called the baquet, or magnetic tub. Round this the patients were placed in rows, each holding one of the rods of iron, the end of which he applied to the part of his body which was the supposed seat of the disease. A cord passed round their bodies united the patients to one another, and sometimes they formed a second chain by taking hold of each other's thumbs. A piano-forte charged with magnetic fluid was placed in the corner of the room, and various airs were played upon it to put the patients into a state of quiet, and dispose them to receive the magnetic action. At some distance stood the operator, who held in his hand a polished and pointed rod of iron, from ten to twelve inches long, which served to concentrate the fluid which issued from himself, and thus render it more powerful in its action upon the patients. During this process, which consisted of various passes by the finger and rod of the magnetiser, the application of his hands, and the pressure of his fingers on the hypochondria and on the regions of the abdomen, the patients were variously affected. Some were calm, and experienced but little effect; others coughed, spat, felt pains, local or general, and had profuse sweatings; whilst others again were thrown into violent convulsions. These convulsions were extraordinary, from their number, their duration, and their violence. All, however, were completely under the power of the operator, whose voice, gesture, or look, could immediately rouse them from whatever state they might be in.

Though animal magnetism excited very great and general attention on the continent, it never thoroughly took root in England. Latterly, however, a greater amount of attention has been directed to the subject, which has been investigated by several eminent physiologists. The well-known case of Miss Martineau has been the most remarkable in connexion with its history for several years. Since and before this alleged demonstration of the curative power of magnetic agency, many claims have been put forward in its favour. But whilst many of the facts recorded admit of little doubt, they have been so remarkably misrepresented through the feelings of those who have observed and narrated them, that men of science, disgusted with the imposture of some and the credulity of others, have generally shunned its investigation, and turned a deaf ear to what they consider the pretensions of its professors. It must be admitted, however, that the advocates of these "pretensions" are neither undistinguished nor few. When it is found-as it is in England-that medical men of high standing willingly resign honourable and lucrative appointments, forfeit the confidence of their professional brethren, and, as a natural consequence, lose much of their previously extensive practice, simply on account of their advocacy of such claims, it is unreasonable to reject them as altogether without foundation. Men who deliberately sacrifice all that they prize most highly, for the sake of their attachment to certain principles, may at least be presumed to have full confidence in the soundness of those principles. And when, in addition to this, they are men whose capability of forming a correct judgment cannot be denied, the presumption in favour of their conclusions becomes very strong.

THE THERE are few, if any, of the Italian cities which possess a greater number of attractions, both for the antiquarian and the artist, than Genoa. It stood amongst the foremost of three great republics of the fifteenth century, in which the wealth, liberty, art, and learning of the world were concentrated. To have produced Columbus and Doria was title enough to fame and admiration, if it had no other. But it was no less renowned for commercial enterprise and for daring hardihood by land and sea, than for the magnificent tastes of its great The mighty sailors who carried its flag triumphantly into every corner of the Mediterranean, and baffled the might of Mahomet II. in the straits of the Bosphorus, were as remarkable for the refinement of their tastes, in the retirement

men.

out picturing in his mind's eye, that majestic figure, the lofty port, and the venerable gray hairs of Andrew Doria-the Father of his country, the rival of Gonzalvo de Cordova, the admiral of Francis I., the conqueror of Charles V. and of Barbarossa?

It would be well if the tourist in Italy could dwell upon these recollections solely, and shut out the present from his sight. The contrast is appalling. The liberty, wealth, learning, and genius which shed lustre round every wall and hillock in this classic land, have fled northward and westward; and here, in the birthplace of Petrarch, and of the Medicis, of Zeno, of Doria, of Titian and Michael Angelo, ruin and desolation and decay mark every yard we traverse. A race of

of their homes, as for their stern valour on the waves. In none was this combination so fully displayed as in Andrew Doria, the great admiral, whose virtues and exploits have formed the theme of so much eulogy, poetry, and romance. Amidst the wonderful amphitheatre of houses, temples, palaces, terraces, of which Genoa is composed, and which mirror themselves in the blue waves that dash their silvery foam on the strand beneath, his palace is the first object which strikes the eye and fixes the attention, with its colossal Neptune, its splendid gardens, and its ennobling memories. Who could look on it without being forcibly reminded of the great age in which it rose? How many noble and patriotic struggles, how many grand self-sacrifices, how much courage, constancy, and devotion, does the name of its founder alone call up? Who could gaze upon the white terrace in the gardens with

slaves display their squalor and misery around the Ghiberti Gates at Florence-"those gates fit to form an entrance to Paradise;" and at Genoa, those awful palaces, each a poem in stone, are mouldering to decay, as if blasted by a curse. The statue of Neptune, in the Doria gardens, is mutilated; the porticoes are falling into ruin. The sculptured trophies on the walls are hidden by lichens, and the sea roars over the grounds of him who so often baffled its fury. But even in desolation the palace is magnificent.

It was designed by Montoisoli, a Roman architect. The gates, statues, and arabesques are the work of Pierino del Vaga, the pupil of Raffaele. Many of his paintings still adorn the walls-" Children's Games," amongst others; and, as a contrast, "The War of the Giants."

So said Michael Angelo.

No place in the English metropolis has more charms than the Gardens of the Zoological Society. The Surrey Gardens, Vauxhall, Cremorne, beside them hide their diminished heads. At any rate, in the one you are seldom disgusted as you are in the others. You are not bewildered by the fantastic costume of London gents; you are not surrounded by painted women and drunken men. Between you and nature comes no offensive cloud, but you can walk and examine and philosophise at your own sweet will. You add something to your stock of knowledge, and if you be a wise man, you carry away that which is better than knowledge itself, for

"Sweet is the lore which nature brings;

Our meddling intellect

Misshapes the beauteous forms of things,

We murder to dissect."

The gardens are now peculiarly rich in curious pachydermatous animals. The young elephant and her portly mamma are alone worth a visit to them, although the former, under the fattening influence of cakes and bonbons, has now grown to such a size that the attributes of babyhood are fast giving place to those of the mature elephant. The elephant calf, or little elephant-now only by courtesy-is already a proficient in the ways of the elephant world, an adept in the arts of begging and cajoling, mistress of all the winning blandishments wherewith the elephant tribe are wont to solicit eleemosynary donations from their Christian friends.

Wandering along in quest of the other pachyderms, we next meet with the armour-encased rhinoceros - a beast which naturalists describe as unamiable, stupid, and sulky. We think naturalists are wrong in their description-at least the character does not apply to our friend the rhinoceros in the Zoological Gardens. The humanising influence of delicate food and polite society has evidently not been lost upon him. Instead of avoiding the visitor, he stalks towards him, pushes his large nose between the bars of his enclosure as far as he can, and solicits, in his own peculiar fashion, the donation of a morsel. He is not so adroit a beggar as our friends the elephants, but he does his best. At first he tries what the significant hint of throwing his mouth wide open will do, and this failing, he protrudes a sort of an apology for the elephant's snout. The latter, however, is but a sorry substitute; it may answer well enough for rooting up trees, but it is not able to accomplish those delicate manipulations — if the expression may be permitted-which are performed by the trunk of the elephant. We next pass on to the illustrious stranger who divided the attention of the beau monde some little time since with the Nepaulese ambassador. We mean the hippopotamus, of course. Since we had the honour of seeing him last, he, too, has grown amazingly-his body rather than his intellectual powers, we fear. He is very little humanised as yet, does not even understand the art of begging, which backwardness is a proof of the possession of very obtuse mental capacities, we take it; and judging from external appearances, it would seem that he considers his mission is to sleep. As the hippopotamus displays no winning ways for our amusement, we leave this pet of fashion and pass on to the enclosure wherein resides the chiropotamus, as he is termed, the pachyderm which we have especially come to see.

Meantime a few preliminary remarks may not be out of place on pachydermatous animals in general, and the chiropotamus in particular. The term pachyderm, or pachydermatous animal, then, means a thick-skinned animal-from maxúc thick, and déoμa, a skin, and includes the elephant, horse, rhinoceros, hippopotamus, the swine, and many others possessing a general similarity to these. It is true the thickness of skin in the so-called pachyderms is, in the greater number of genera, an important characteristic. Not an invariable characteristic, however, seeing that a horse's skin is not thick; but as regards the elephant, rhinoceros, hippopotamus, and pig, the propriety of the term will not be questioned. The pachydermatous class admits of division into

animals with proboscides, or prehensile snouts, and animals without. The former contains the elephant amongst living genera, and the mastodon amongst dead ones. As regards the pachyderms without prehensile snouts, they are subdivided into families, according to the number, or rather the apparent number, of their toes.

Now, although it be quite true that the elephant alone, of all living pachyderms, has a prehensile trunk, properly so called, yet a sort of attempt at this conformation exists in many others :-thus, for example, our friend the rhinoceros has a sort of prolongation of the upper lip, moveable like a thumb, and very useful for the general purposes of tearing up roots, moving earth in search of food, and other similar purposes. The pig, too, has a snout of great strength and mobility, as the farmer often knows to his cost. A few hungry porkers turned loose in a meadow soon plough the turf through aud through, in their search for roots and worms.

We now arrive at the residence of the chiropotamus, or river pig, which name he acquires from youpoç, a swine, and отаμóc, a river, and a very appropriate name it is, seeing that he is so exactly pig-like in form and face. What the animal is in appearance, the (ngraving alone will show. What he is, so far as is known, we will endeavour to tell. The interesting animal has been in this country about six months, and is a great curiosity, for none of his brethren have ever had the felicity of treading on British ground before. It is said the slave becomes free immediately he touches our shores. Alas! the river hog, or chiropotamus, found our boast a mockery, a delusion, and a snare. In slavery he has been ever since he was torn from Africa and the Cameron river, on the banks of which he was born, and where it may be supposed he reasonably anticipated to spend in quiet the little span of time we call life. Alas! fate had another destiny in store for him. He was to be caught-borne far away over oceans to a strange land, to be gazed at by strange eyes, to be spoken of by strange tongues. A hog of any ambition might find in this some consolation-I question whether our friend does. It matters little to him that artists engrave him; that newspaper paragraphs trumpet his praise; that the British public runs after him as it did after Father Gavazzi or Mrs. Stowe.

The chiropotamus is a denizen of the Guinea Coast of Western Africa, where he spends his time in the rivers and on the river banks of that sultry, swampy region. The specimen now in the Zoological Gardens is about the size of an ordinary pig. The most distinctive character of the animal, to the eye of a general observer, is its colour, a bright maroon, verging on yellow. It may be here well to remark, that the term chiropotamus has only recently been applied to an existing animal; it was long employed to designate certain fossil remains of a pachyderm of the swine tribe, the bones of which are frequently met with in the neighbourhood of Paris, and the Isle of Wight.

It is strange the public has not heard of the chiropotamus before, when we consider the industry and enterprise with which the world has been searched. It is, we are informed, also found in some of the other rivers of Western Africa, and although it has hitherto escaped the grasp of scientific naturalists, has long been known to the merchant explorers of those mysterious streams. Its nearest analogy is the Bosch Vaik of the Cape, an animal so scarce that we missed it from Gordon Cummings's African museum. So remarkable a character is it, that it is almost incredible that it should for so long a time have escaped the numerous correspondents of the Zoological Society, whose labours have been so unwearied and have generally been crowned with such success. Now it has reached England, the least the public can do is to welcome it. It will never attain to the popularity of the hippopotamus, for it cannot vie with that deservedly public favourite in size; but it is equally rare, equally strange to untravelled eyes; and as novelty is an attraction, for some time to come we imagine that the river hog will be attractive indeed.