know whereabouts he was on the journey, he perceived, what was the fact, that, to end the altercation with him, the horses had been put to another coach, and that he had spent the night at the inn-door at Bath, where he had taken possession of the carriage.-A similar occurrence took place lately at Huddersfield. A gentleman went to a proprietor of one of the coaches to take a passage for Manchester; but, owing to the enormous size of his person, he was refused, unless he would consent to be taken as lumber, at ninepence per stone, hinting at the same time the advantage of being split in two. The gentleman was not to be disheartened by this disappointment, but adopted the plan of sending the hostler of one of the inns to take a place for him, which he did, and in the morning wisely took the precaution of fixing himself in the coach with the assistance of the bystanders, whence he was not to be removed easily. Thus placed, he was taken to his destination. The consequence was, on his return he was necessitated to adopt a similar process, to the no small disappointment of the proprietors, who were compelled to convey three gentlemen, who had previously taken their places, in a chaise, as there was no room beside this gentleman, who weighs about thirty-six stone !"

#

"In enumerating the little miseries of the corpulent, their exposure to ridicule should not be forgotten. Even the austerity of queen Elizabeth could relax into a joke on the fat Sir Nicholas Bacon, whom she was classically pleased to define as vir prapinguis, observing 'right merrilie,' that Sir Nicholas's soul lodged well.' The good-humoured antiquary, Grose, was earnestly entreated by a butcher to say he bought meat of him!-God bless you, sir,' said the pavers to the enormous Cambridge professor, as he passed over their work. Christopher Smart, the translator of Horace, celebrated the three fat beadles of Oxford; and the fat physician, Dr. Stafford, was not allowed to rest in his grave without a witticism:

Take heed, O good trav'ier, and do not tread hard: For here lies Dr. Stafford, in all this churchyard.' Our good king Edward IV. even made a practical joke with the corporators of London; for, when he invaded France, in 1475, he took care to be accompanied by some of the most corpulent aldermen of

London-les bourgeois de Londres les plus chargés de ventre,-that the fatigues of war might the sooner incline them to call

out for peace. Many illustrious cases might have been found in France equal to the specimens Edward took with him, even among royal and noble persons, of which Charles the Fat, Louis le Gros, Sanctius Crassus, and Corpus Poetarum, the fat poetic elector of Cologne, were notable instances."

While our author laughs at fat people, he advises his friends and the public in general to attend to the old proverb on that subject.-" "Laugh and grow fat' is an old adage; and Sterne tells us, that every time a man laughs, he adds something to his life. An eccentric philosopher, of the last century, used to say, that he liked not only to laugh himself, but to see and hear laughter. Laughter, Sir, is good for health; it is a provocative to the appetite, and a friend to digestion. Dr. Sydenham, Sir, said that the arrival of a merry-andrew in a town was more beneficial to the health of the inhabitants

than twenty asses loaded with medicine.' Mr. Pott used to say that he never saw the Tailor riding to Brentford' without feeling better for a week afterwards.

"From what has been said, it will appear that the excitement of laughter ought to have a place in the Ars Pinguefaciendi. Mr. George Jones, mentioned by Granger, seems to have had this object in view in his Friendly Pills,' which were to make patients of all complexions laugh at the time of taking them, and to cure all curable complaints. Let us hope, for the sake of his majesty's 'lean lieges,' that George Jones's recipe may start from an antiquarian pill-box, for the enlarging and beautifying of that portion of the population. Let us also flatter ourselves, that, although we do not now know our way to Mr. Payne's toy-shop, for his three and-sixpenny bottle of Pinguefying Specific,' such may be found amongst the arcana of modern chemistry."

Many people, however, will be afraid to carry this advice too far, as a superabundance of fat may sometimes_prove dangerous.-"Lorry, a celebrated French physician, indulged in some curious speculations relative to acute diseases, arising from the admixture of bile, milk, or pus, with fat in a fluid state. Either of these uniting with the last, in certain conditions of the body, would produce a sort of tertium quid, in the shape of a soapy liquor, causing acute diseases in some, and chronic

disorders in others; and persons have been supposed to die of consumption, when, in fact, they were washed away to the other world with their own soap!"

A pleasant anecdote is given of a fat sportsman. "This gentleman took excessive exercise, went through great exertion in the morning, and in the afternoon rewarded his virtuous labours by eating, drinking, and sleeping-the fatigue of his sporting pleasures being previously sustained by an occasional draught of stout ale. He did me the favour of a visit, when I found that he was in excellent health; but his size interfered with his plans; he could not get through the woods so easily as he used to do,' and 'it was not so easy as formerly to find a horse to carry him.'- Now, what do you recommend me to do?'-Keep your eyes open, and your mouth shut. Poh! nonsense! that won't do for me-give me something to take-have you no pills?'The same question has been so often repeated to some very able practitioners, that, with Molière's doctor, they answer, Prenez des pilules. The pills this gentleman was in search of were to counteract the effects of a dose of strong ale, two gallons a day being his moderate allowance. When I gave him the opinion of an old poet on the subject of ale, (alluding to its heaviness and thickness) he laughed, and replied, I see how it is: if I am ale-ing all day, it follows, of course, I must be ail-ing all night. Egad! I can't help it; I should die without it, and I would rather die with it.'"

Of another corpulent gentleman, it is said that he was not only amiable but very rich and very polite, except when his skin pinched him, a term he always used when oppressed by uncomfortable sensations. One day, 'when he was sure he should burst,' with a long face and gloomy looks, he thus addressed me: Lord, sir! I'm very queer-very poorly -always poorly-I've no stomach,' said he, looking me full in the face; now I want to know about diet-what should I eat?'-Nothing.'-'What should I drink?' - Nothing.'-Hot or cold?'-This reductio ad absurdum took my breath away. He made no alteration in his tone, but went on with his queries, most of which he kindly answered himself."

On the subject of leanness, we have a ludicrous dialogue. What is the cause of my leanness?' said a thin gentleman, who would have given half his fortune for half my fat. There is (said I) a predis

you

position in your constitution to make lean, and a disposition in your constitution to keep you so. This explanation did not soothe the irritability of my lean enquirer, who became, if possible, more shrunken and wizened as his heat increased. Seeing the nature and temper of my antagonist, I went to book with him in another way :- Why, Sir, as to the causes of leanness, there may be many that an ingenious theorist might suggest; -I speak to you, Sir, as to a sensible man.'-The storm and heat began to subside; an oily word is like an emollient.'I am aware that it is not sufficient to talk to you in general terms, of constitutional peculiarities, digestive organs, and alimentary functions; you must have a positive, specific cause, and an explanation of that cause, as plain as the specification of a patent.'-Just so; that is what I want: you speak like a sensible man'-(the retort courteous) — Every effect, Sir, must have a cause; and I want to know whether the cause may be in the stomach, or any part of my inside; and if so, whether by particularly directing our attention to that part, wherever it may be, we can in any way alter its nature?' Finding my patient's mind was bent on localities, I suggested the intestinum cæcum for his considerationthe newly-discovered organ of fat! He had never heard of it; this was what he expected of me (another retort courteous, for which I owed him one). This was news! What was it? how was it?'"Why, Sir, some are of opinion that the cacum contains a certain ferment—some that it is destined to secrete an important fluid-others take it for a second ventricle, wherein the prepared aliments may be stored up, and so long retained, till a thicker and more nutritive juice may be drawn from them; and how it is a depôt of fat, you will find in the Philosophical Transactions.' He heard this very attentively, and having passed mutual compli ments, and being on very good terms with each other, he favored me with his unreserved opinion. I see very clearly, Sir, the application of this discovery to my case this is an age of discoveries! the quantity of fat diffused over the body must be in proportion to the quantity in the depot: I must have a small cacum! Now the question is—can we enlarge it? -Perhaps I have no cacum! We quite agreed upon the impossibility of supplying this defect; but, as there is more in heaven and earth than we dream of in our

·

philosophy,' my philosopher did not like to relinquish all speculation upon the subject. I considered the case beyond surgery. I am not sure that I might have been allowed to look at the caput coli, though I have known an operation done on almost as frivolous grounds. But

when I told him, that, according to the account of the celebrated Hoffman, dogs became rapidly fat when their spleen was removed, and that Mr. Hunter once removed it from a wounded man, who did very well, there seemed to arise a lurking longing, as much as to say, 'I wish Mr. Hunter had my spleen.'

The lean are not less exposed to ridicule than the corpulent.-"A doctor of divinity, of very ghostly appearance, was one day accosted by a vulgar fellow, who, after eyeing him from head to foot, at last said, 'Well, doctor, I hope you have taken care of your soul! Why, my friend,' said the amiable shadow, why should you be so anxious that I should take care of my soul?'- Because,' replied the other, 'I can tell you that your body is not worth caring for.' - Jonas Hanway, who was remarkably thin, was met by a man much inebriated, who approached him in so irregular a direction, that it might have been concluded that he had business on both sides of the way. Hanway stopped when he came up to him, to give him his choice; but the man stood as still as his intoxication would permit him, without attempting to pass on either side. After viewing each other a moment, 'My friend,' said Hanway, 'you seem as if you had rather drunk too such; to which the man replied, with great naïveté, 'And you, my friend, seem as if you had eaten too little.'-When the duke de Choiseul, who was a remarkably meagre-looking man, came to London to negotiate a peace, Charles Townsend, being asked whether the French government had sent the preliminaries of a treaty, answered, he did not know, but they had sent the outline of an ambassador."

Another subject of frequent ridicule is hypochondriacism." Every practitioner must have seen or heard of persons fancying themselves made of glass; I once had occasion to visit an earthen ware patient. A fat gentleman sent for me, having met with an accident, not very serious in its nature, but very painful. Lotions, bandages, and plasters, were applied, secundùm artem, and the case went on most prosperously but, in proportion as he

got on surgically, he fell off physically, and, instead of being pleased and thankful, he became querulous and morose. Remembering Bouvart's Scale for Convalescence, and, that 'Good-morning, Mr. Bouvart,' was the announcement of a perfect cure, I guessed this was my patient's case. I did not, however, perfectly comprehend all its bearings till his valet, a very shrewd fellow, said, 'Bless you, Sir! you must not mind him-he's only coming back to his old ways?''Old ways? Yes, Sir, he's going to be a tea-pot!'

"This may seem very ludicrous, but it is very serious, and must be treated seriously, when it occurs. These hypochondriacs are like Molière's sick man; they always fly into a passion when credit is not given to their complaints-you may easier (more easily) call them scoundrels, than tell them they look well; and, as Montagne very justly remarks, they will allow themselves to be blistered and bled, for evils which they feel only in their conversation.'

'Many ingenious contrivances have been resorted to in these cases. We read in ancient history, that Philotimus cured a patrician, who fancied he had lost his head, by putting a heavy iron helmet on his scull, the weight of which convinced him that he had still a head upon his shoulders. But all contrivances fall short of a German doctor, who conceived the bold idea of inoculating a patient with psora-vulgarly called the Scotch-fiddle! The amusement this disease produced,

caused a diversion of the other."

"A worthy, fat, hypochondriacal bachelor sent for me one day, to tell me that he was dying; that he had left directions I should open him for the benefit of mankind; and that, if it was important, it might be done immediately after the breath was out of his body, only taking care to pierce him through the heart, to prevent resuscitation. This scena was repeated at least once a year for twenty years: at last he died, with as good vis cera as any gentleman of seventy-nine years of age was ever blessed with. He was one of those who studied the art of self-tormenting,-a comfort which, unfortunately for those about him, he dispensed with a liberal hand. Pity seemed the pabulum of his life; and to exact commiseration for imaginary ills,

Which real ills and they alone could cure, was the great object of his existence. He

ute well, drank well, slept well;—but what of that? He had a weak stomach and a giddy head; flying gout, wind in his veins, and water in his skin, with constant crackings and burnings.' His business seemed, seeking for new causes to make himself miserable. Your pulse is very good, Sir.'-'Ay, so you say; every body says so! that pulse will be the death of me; it deceives every body, and my complaints are neglected because I happen to have a good pulse!'-Your tongue, Sir, is clean.'-Ay, there it is again; you should have seen it in the morning-as white as a sheet of paper.'

• The valetudinary, thus,

Rings o'er and o'er his hourly fuss.'

CHARACTERS.

To draw a character well, art and skill are requisite. The lights and shades are to be distinctly noticed, and the leading feature is to be made strikingly prominent. But some persons, it has been said, have no characters at all;—that is, they have no point so strongly marked as to be easily definable. Yet even these have some gleams of sense, some capabilities and attainments which a discerning person may discover. With these prefatory remarks we beg leave to introduce the following portraits, which appear in a recent novel, called "Rank and Talent."

Miss Henderson." Mr. Henderson (a popular preacher), not knowing what means he might have to provide for his family, very wisely gave them as good an education as was in his power; and at the same time, in order to have that education for them all as cheap as possible, it was his plan that the elder should teach the younger, that she might be thus partly prepared, should need be, to undertake with a great stock of experience the task of instructing others. The young lady took instruction kindly and well. Her progress in every thing was really astonishing. Her music-master, her drawing-master, her French-master, never had such a pupil in the whole course of their experience. Masters say the same of all their pupils who are not paragons of stupidity. But in this instance there really was more truth in the commendations than is usually the case. Mr. Henderson was of course highly delighted with his daughter's talents. Mrs. Henderson was lavish in her praise of them,

and profuse in her exhibition of them. The young lady was puffed into a mighty conceit of herself, and she very kindly pitied the ignorance and incapacity of the great mass of mankind. The young lady and her father and mother were not aware, that it was to a constitution of mind by no means enviable or desirable, that Miss Henderson was indebted for the great rapidity of her progress and the multitude of her acquirements. There were two causes of that progress: one was a prodigious share of vanity, which would undergo any exertion or painful affliction in order to gratify itself; and the other was a total want of all power of imagination or principle of original and investigating thought, so that there was nothing to interfere with an undivided and close attention to any object of pursuit. In acquiring knowlege on these principles and from these causes, what she gained was the mere lumber of memory, and the theme of vain prate and idle boasting; it was not proper food for the mind. There was scarcely a piece of music which she could not play at sight; but her style of playing was such as to weary rather than to fascinate; and to listen to her mechanical dexterity on the piano-forte, was called undergoing one of her sonatas. There was also the same want of taste in her paintings. The outline was correct, the coloring was accurate, the transcript complete; but there was no life in the living, no animation in the scenery. There was a provoking likeness in the portraits which she sometimes drew of her friends; and so proud was she of her skill in portrait-painting, that few of her acquaintance could keep their countenances safe from the harsh and wooden mockery of her pencil. Deriving a rich gratification to her vanity from her various accomplishments and miscellaneous acquirements, she fancied that her greatest happiness was in the pursuit of knowlege and the pleasures of science. Much did she despise the follies of the fashionable world, and very contemptuously did she regard the ignorant and half-educated part of the community, and that part, in her judgement, consisted of nearly all the world, her own self and one or two par ticular friends excepted.

"Miss Henderson, though gifted with a most ample and comfortable conceit of her own superior powers and attainments, was still not backward but rather liberal and dexterous in administering the delicious dose of flattery to those whom she

honoured with her notice and approbation, as being superior to the ordinary mass of mortals. Some of these friends received the homage thus paid to them as the effusions of a warm heart and generous spirit. It is possible, however, to mistake heat of head for warmth of heart.This was a mistake into which Miss Henderson was perpetually falling, both as it related to herself and to others. Not only was the young lady liberal in her praises of those whom she would condescend to flatter with the honour of her approbation, but she absolutely praised them at her own expense, expressing her high sense of their superiority to herself. But it should be added, that this kind of homage always expected a return with interest, and the language in which she praised her friends was always put forth as a model and specimen of that kind of homage which she would be best pleased to receive from her dear dear friends.

"To the vanity of intellect Miss Henderson added the vanity of sentiment. She had read something in books about the heart, and about sentiment and feeling, and so on; and she thought that there must be something fine in that concerning which so many fine words had been used. Thereupon, with that conceit she added sentimentality to the rest of her acquirements; and an acquirement in good truth it really was, seeing that it was by no means natural. Not the less fluently could she discourse on that subject, because she knew nothing about it; but, on the other hand, she set herself up as a judge and censor-general on all her acquaintances and the world beside on the subject of sensibility of heart. She had enjoyed many opportunities of falling in love, and those which she had enjoyed she had not overlooked. Many a time was her heart lost, but never irrecoverably. Few were the gentlemen who thought it very prudent to venture to pay serious court to a young lady of lofty thoughts and lowly means. A very slight degree of notice was sufficient, however, to set if not her heart in flames, at least her tongue in motion to her confidential friends concerning sentiment and sensibility, and all that sort of thing.

"It is wicked, or at least very thoughtless, in young men to pay unmeaning attentions to any young lady, but especially to such very sentimental ones as Miss Henderson: frequently had she been rendered unhappy by this thoughtlessness. Now, it is very silly for young men to

boast of the hearts they win; and, in winning such a heart as we are now speak. ing of, there is certainly nothing to boast of, for any one was sure to succeed provided there was a vacancy.

Mr. Tippetson." This youth was the favoured and honoured companion of Miss Henderson's walks; and it is difficult to say, which was the prettier animal of the two, Mr. Tippetson or his little white French dog. They were, at one time, always to be seen together, at a certain hour of the day, in the Green Park. They seemed to have a great fellow-feeling, and both looked as spruce and neat as if they had been dressed by the same valet. Mr. Tippetson, though something of a coxcomb, and considered to be vain of his person, still was so far 'diffident of himself as to use the assistance of his little quadruped companion to attract attention to himself. Often has he acknowleged his belief that his little dog was considered by the ladies as a very pretty excuse for taking notice of the pretty owner of the same.

"It was the opinion of good judges, that Mr. Tippetson was an empty-headed, effeminate coxcomb, not worth notice, and absolutely incorrigible by any other discipline but that of time. But Miss Henderson had discovered, or fancied she had discovered, that Mr. Tippetson was not so great a coxcomb as he appeared to be. She acknowleged, indeed, that he was very attentive to his dress and his person; and very candidly did she make allowance for a little error in that respect, as he was but young, and she had heard it said that it is better to be too attentive to such points in youth than too negligent in age. As for his lisping, she was very sure that was perfectly natural and unavoidable. As to the supposed diversity between the studying and the learned Miss Henderson, and the lounging, indolent, unreading habits of Mr. Tippetson, the difference was rather apparent than real, according to the young lady's own account of the matter: for, though he was not at present much in the habit of reading, he had been formerly, and his mind was by no means unfurnished; he was a man of great observation, and was constantly making remarks on every thing he saw or heard. Thus it is that foolery is tolerated. Look at a coxcomb at a little distance, and observe his silly airs. The animal is absolutely nauseous, and his whole manner and style villainous and contemptible.