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Island of Nisida...lake of Agnano...grotto del Cane...baths of St. Germain.

THE lake of Agnano is one of the objects which is pointed out to the curiosity of a stranger. It is about four miles from Naples. Af ter passing the grotto, there is a house on the road side, where a guide is taken to conduct him to the lake, and the grotto del Cane. The man was instantly ready, and was bringing as usual a torch and a dog. The poor animal was meagre and feeble, and was unwiltingly dragged along. I had no wish to see him tortured, and insisted upon his being released, and his actions seemed to me more expressive than words could have been. When the man let go the rope which was round his neck he did not immediately run away, but looked up at us and seemed to wonder how he had escaped his accustomed torture; he continued thus till we drove off, and then turned slowly round and returned to the house.

The guide got up behind the carriage and we soon turned off to the right. After passing for some time beautiful fields highly culti vated, we descended a hill and came in sight of the lake, surroun ded by hills. It is a beautiful piece of water, about half a mile in Vol. III. No. 4. X

circumference. There were various species of wild fowl sporting on its surface. They appeared to be conscious of the security they enjoyed, for they suffered me to come close to them without discomposing themselves. The surface of the lake is sometimes almost covered with them. It forms a part of the territory devoted to the hunting pleasures of the king, and no vulgar sportsman ever dares disturb the tranquillity of the place. As the king seldom hunts here, the birds live unmolested, and multiply continually. Nothing could be more picturesque than this lake surrounded by hills; its smooth surface was unruffled by the slightest breeze, the wild ducks were swimming. and diving in perfect security; there were no houses to be seen, a few goats were reposing under the shade of some trees on one side, and except these there was nothing to interrupt this delicious solitude, which recalled to my mind the fabled tranquillity of the golden age.

On the side of one of these hills is situated the grotto del Cane. This is only a hole in the side of the hill, closed with a gate. It is

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 sce 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 creviçes 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 Agna no, 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 cargoes, 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.

FOR THE ANTHOLOGY.

FAMILY PHYSICIAN.

IN my last number, as may be remembered by a few, I admitted that 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

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 in telligence as mathematicks.

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

No. 6.

ing us to talk, but also by hurrying 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 Lis 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 receivė his orders without any explanation of his situation, without any intimation of the importance of Lis 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 gratified 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 know. ledge, of which the communica tion can benefit the patient.

C.

FOR THE MONTHLY ANTHOLOGY.

THOUGHTS ON TACITUS.

Nemora verò, et luci, et secretum ipsum, tantam mihi afferunt voluptatem, ut inter pracipuos carminum fructus numerem, quòd nec in strepitu componuntur Tacitus Dial de Crat. 12.

But woods and groves and solitary places to me afford sensations of a pure delight. It is there
I enjoy the pleasures of a poetick imagination; and among those pleasures it is not the least
that they are pursued far from the noise and bustle of the world.
Murphy's Trans.

contemplation, he has his pleasing visions. He treads on consecrated ground."

Tacitus, in the Dialogus de Oratoribus, has in the person of Maternus described in finished composition the beauties and the charms of poetry. He has exhib. ited them in the strength of truth and in the elegance of fiction; and he has added new power to his picture by contrasting them with the disgust and deformity of the practice of law and publick declamation. This however was not the particular object of Tacitus. It only serves as a most beautiful introduction to the general subject to be afterwards fully discussed, the causes of corrupt elo

THE silent recesses of poetry are the residence of pure hearts and cultivated minds. Folly and vice do not disturb by their intemperance or criminality the distant retreat of the poet; and leisure is always to be found for strengthening the foundations of piety, and invigorating the germinations of genius. Nature affords continual subjects for the experiments of fancy, and her admirer always delights to exercise his mind in such pleasant recreations. He is surrounded by scenes, which may gratify the fullest exuberance of imagination; and before him are scattered thousands of objects, which by some peculiar attribute give new incitement to the playsomeness of fancy. Remoteness.quence. We are indeed highly from noise and dissipation is to the pure lover of poetry approximation to beauty and truth. As he has receded from vice, he has advanced towards purity; and if he has left the pomp and prodigality of a Roman metropolis, he lives in the coolness and greenness of the valley, communing with his own spirit, or conversing with those illustrious intelligences, who are immortal in their writings. Secedit animus in loca pura atque innocentia, fruiturque sedibus sacris. "Free from those distractions, the poet retires to scenes of solitude, where peace and innocence reside. In those haunts of

indebted to the Roman historian for such a dialogue, and perhaps we ought not to regret, that he has discoursed more upon oratory, than poetry. Yet Tacitus might have entered farther into the description of the elegance of verse and the felicity of the poet. He might also have opposed the serenity of silence and the attractions of retreat to other causes of disquietude, than the perplexity of law and the tumults of eloquence. An orator, whose heart is bursting with ambition, and whose cheek is bloated with declamation, and a Jawyer besieged with complaining clients and tormented with con

tradictory statements and testi- ing every day what my heart condemns."

mony, 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 aversion; 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, Musæ, 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

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 home age, 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 tran quillity, where the heart may find utterance for devotion, and poetry may soften the passions to mellowness.

Yet

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