J'~ 
 
THE LIBRARY 
 
 OF 
 
 THE UNIVERSITY 
 OF CALIFORNIA 
 
 PRESENTED BY 
 
 PROF. CHARLES A. KOFOID AND 
 MRS. PRUDENCE W. KOFOID 
 
A 
 
 SURVEY 
 
 OF THE 
 
 WISDOM OF GOD 
 
 IN THE 
 
 CREATION : 
 
 OR, 
 
 A COMPENDIUM 
 
 OF 
 
 Jlaturai {$tlo#opf)p* 
 
 IN FIVE VOLUMES. 
 
 BY JOHN WESLEY, A.M. 
 
 A NEW EDITION, REVISED AND CORRECTED. 
 
 VOL. I. 
 
 These are thy glorious Worlts, Parent of Gotod, 
 
 Almighty ! Thine this universal Frame, 
 
 Thus wond'rous fair i Thyself how wond'rous then I 
 
 MILTON. 
 
 LONPON : 
 
 Printed by W. Flint, Old Bailey, 
 
 FOR MAXWELL AND WILSON, ] 7, SKINNER STREET, 8NOW-HILl$ 
 AlfD WILLIAMS AND SMITH, STATION ER'S COURT, " 
 
 1809. 
 

PREFACE. 
 
 1. IHAVE long desired to see such a Cow 
 pendium of Natural Philosophy, as was, 
 1. Not too diffuse, not expressed in many 
 words, but comprised in so moderate a 
 compass, as not to require any large ex- 
 pence, either of time or money. 2. Not 
 maimed or imperfect ; but containing the 
 heads of whatever (after all our discoveries) 
 is known with any degree of certainty, 
 either with regard to the earth or the hea- 
 vens. And this I wanted to see, 3. In 
 the plainest dress, simply and nakedly 
 expressed, in the most clear, easy, and in- 
 VOL. i. a 
 
IV 
 
 telligible manner, that the nature of the 
 things would allow; particularly free from 
 all the jargon of mathematics, which is 
 mere heathen Greek to common readers. 
 At the same time I wished to see this 
 short, full, plain account of the visible 
 creation, directed to its right end : not 
 barely to entertain an idle barren curiosity, 
 but to display the invisible things of God, 
 his power^ wisdom, and goodness. 
 
 2. But I cannot find such a treatise as 
 this in any modern, any more than ancient 
 language ; and I am certain there is none 
 such in the English tongue. What comes 
 nearest to it of any thing I have seen, is 
 Mr. Ray's Wisdom of God in the Creation; 
 Dr. Derham's Phyiico and Astro-Theolo- 
 gy ; Niewentyt's Religious Philosopher ; 
 Mather's Christian Philosopher, and Na- 
 ture delineated. But none of these, single, 
 the design ; and who will be at the 
 
pains to extract the substance of them all, 
 and add the later discoveries, of which 
 they had little knowledge, and therefore 
 could take but little notice. This is a 
 desideratum still, and one that a lover of 
 mankind would rejoice to see even tolera- 
 bly supplied. 
 
 3. I am thoroughly sensible there are 
 many who have far more ability, as well 
 as leisure, for such a work than me ; but 
 as none of them undertake it, I have my- 
 self made some little attempt in the ensu- 
 ing volumes. Herein following Mr. Der- 
 ham's plan, I divide the work into text 
 and notes.* The text is in great measure 
 translated from the Latin work of John 
 Francis Buddceus, the late celebrated pro- 
 fessor of philosophy in the University of 
 Jena, in Germany. But I have found oc- 
 
 * So it was in the first edition. Many of these ace 
 now taken into the text. 
 
casion to retrench, enlarge, or alter eveiy 
 chapter, and almost every section , so that 
 it is now, I believe, not only pure, con- 
 taining nothing false or uncertain, but as 
 full as any tract can be expected to be, 
 which is comprised in so narrow a compass; 
 and likewise plain, clear, and intelligible, 
 to one of a tolerable understanding. The 
 notes contain the sum of what is most va- 
 luable in the above-named writers; to 
 which, are added the choicest discoveries 
 both of our own and of the foreign socie- 
 ties. These likewise, I trust, are as plain 
 
 y 
 
 and clear as the nature of the things spoken 
 will allow; although some of them, I know, 
 will not be understood by an unlearned or 
 inattentive reader. 
 
 '4. Mean time I must apprize the reader 
 that I have sometimes a little digressed, 
 by reciting both uncommon appearances of 
 e, and uncommon instances of art : 
 
VH 
 
 and yet this is not properly a digression 
 from the main design I have in view. For 
 surely in these appearances also the wis- 
 dom of God is displayed ; even that mani- 
 fold wisdom which is able to answer the 
 same ends by so various means. And those 
 surprising instances of art do likewise reflect 
 glory upon him, whose spirit in man 
 giveth that wisdom, whose inspiration 
 teacheth understanding* 
 
 5. It will be easily observed, that I en- 
 deavour throughout not to account for 
 things, but only to describe them. I un- 
 dertake barely to set down what appears in 
 nature, notihe cause of those appearances. 
 The/tfc/s lie within the reach of our senses 
 and understanding ; the causes are more 
 remote. That things are so, we know 
 with certainty ; but why they are so, we 
 know not. In many cases we cannot know; 
 and the more we enquire, the more-we are 
 a 3 
 
MarchZS, 1175. 
 
 * 1 HAD finished the additions \vbich I 
 designed to make to the System of Natural 
 Philosophy, before I saw Dr. Goldsmith's 
 "History of the Earth and Animated Na- 
 ture." I had not read over the first volume 
 of this, when I almost repented of having 
 wrote any thing on the head. It seemed 
 to me, that had he published this but a 
 few years sooner, my design would have 
 been quite superseded, since the subject 
 had fallen into the hands of one who had 
 both greater abilities and more leisure for 
 the work. It cannot be denied that he is 
 a fine writer. He was a person of strong 
 judgment, of a lively imagination, and a 
 master of language, both of the beauty 
 and strength of the English tongue. 
 
 2. Yet I could not altogether approve of 
 this, that it seemed the design of the an- 
 
thor to say all he could upon every article, 
 rather than all he should say* Hence arose 
 his numerous and large digressions, making 
 no inconsiderable part of his work. Hence 
 his minute description of cows, horses, 
 dogs ; of cocks, hens, and pigeons, and of 
 abundance of animals equally known to 
 every man,, woman, and child ; descrip* 
 tions that are of little or no use, and no 
 more entertaining than useful; at least 
 useful only to the bookseller, by swelling 
 the bulk, and consequently the price of 
 his book. 
 
 3. Indeed this, the price of it, must 
 ever remain a weighty objection to many 
 readers: they cannot afford to purchase 
 eight volumes at six or seven shillings a 
 volume : ten or fifteen shillings they may 
 possibly afford for five or six smaller vo- 
 lumes, especially when they contain all 
 that is curious or useful in the far more 
 a 5 
 
Xll 
 
 costly work. Nay, I hope, considerably 
 more than all ; as I have consulted abund- 
 ance of authors, and taken abundance of 
 passages from them, whom I apprehend 
 the Doctor had not seen. 
 
 4. I have another objection to this in- 
 genious book; I doubt some parts of it 
 are not true. The author, indeed, has 
 corrected many vulgar errors, but has, I 
 fear, adopted others in their place. Many 
 times he exposes the credulity of other 
 writers, but does he not sometimes fall un- 
 der the same imputation ? As where he 
 terms presumption, to deny the existence of 
 Bishop Pont oppidan's Kraken, and the 
 Sea-serpent; the one a mile across, the 
 other raising himself out of the water, 
 higher than the main mast of a man of 
 war ! Could one who made the least scruple 
 of rejecting these gross absurdities, accuse 
 other writers of credulity ? 
 
Xlll 
 
 5. Mean time, the accounts which he 
 has given of many animals, being taken 
 from the best and latest authorities, are 
 both more accurate, and more to be de- 
 pended on, than any which had been pub- 
 lished before. Many of these I have in- 
 serted in their places, (only contracting 
 thirty or forty pages into four or five) 
 often in the room of those which were less 
 accurate, and probably less authentic ; as 
 also several of his beautiful remarks, such 
 as directly tended to illustrate that great 
 truth, OLord, how manifold are thy works ! 
 In wisdom hast thou made them all ! 
 
CONTENTS 
 
 or THE 
 
 FIRST VOLUME. 
 
 The INTRODUCTION. 
 
 Of the gradual Improvement of Natural Philosophy. 
 
 1. The Order observed in this Treatise $ 
 
 2. The Method of philosophizing among the Hebrews and 
 
 Egyptians ib a 
 
 3. Among the Greeks. The philosophy of Pythagoras, 
 
 Plato, Aristotle ib. 
 
 4. The different Method pursued by the four Greek Sects 4 
 
 5. The Philosophy of the Schoolmen ib. 
 
 6. The revival of philosophy by Lord Bacon - ib. 
 *7. Greatly promoted by philosophical societies ib, 
 8, The Improvement made in every Branch of it: in 
 
 anatomy; the discovery of the circulation of the 
 
 blood, of the lacteal veins j and the thoracic duct ib. 
 
XVI 
 
 PAGE. 
 
 9. Of the generation of all animals from eggs 4 
 
 10. Of the transfusion of blood - ib. 
 
 1 1. Diseases themselves, and the operations of medi- 
 
 cines, give occasion for farther discoveries 5 
 
 12. Many anatomical discoveries have been made bv mi- 
 
 croscopes - - ib, 
 
 13. Many with regard to brutes,' particularly fishes and 
 
 insects - ib* 
 
 1 4. Many likewise, with regard to plants, stones, metals 
 
 and minerals - 6 
 
 15. Great improvements from the art of chemistry ib, 
 
 16. Discoveries concerning the loadstone ib. 
 
 17. Concerning glass an*5 burning-glasses ibr 
 
 18. The nature of the air is more accurately discovered by 
 
 means of the barometer, the thermometer, and the 
 
 air-pump - *7 
 
 19. Discoveries relating to water ib. 
 
 20. Discoveries which shew the nature of fire : of gunpow- 
 
 der, phosphorus, aurum fuhninans ib. 
 
 21. Of the earth, and the chief systems of the universe ib. 
 
 22. Of the sun, the planets, and their satellites 8 
 S3. Of the causes of natural bodies ib. 
 24. Of spirits and divine things ib, 
 
 PART the FIRST. 
 
 OF MAN. 
 CHAP. 1. Of the Structure of the Hitman Body, 
 
 1. The similar solid parts 
 
 2. A fibre - 
 
XYU 
 
 3. The cellular membrane * 12 
 
 4. A bone - 14 
 
 5. A cartilage - 18 
 
 6. A membrane ~ - 19 
 
 7. An artery - - ib 
 
 8. A vein - 22 
 
 9. The lymphatic vessels, and their use - ib 
 
 10. A nerve * 23 
 
 11. The flesh ib, 
 
 12. A gland ... ib. 
 
 13. A muscle - 24 
 
 14. The cuticula and skin ib. 
 A boy with a dappled ski a - 25 
 
 15. The fat 29 
 
 16. The panniculus carnosus - 30 
 
 17. The dissimilar parts ; in particular, the head, cere- 
 
 brum, cerebellum, medulla oblongata ib. 
 
 18. The meninges - 31 
 
 19. The brain ib. 
 
 20. The origin of the nerves 32 
 
 21. The pineal gland - ., 33 
 23. The guards of the eyes - 34 
 
 23. The muscles of the eye : the tunica adnata, the struc- 
 
 ture of the eye - 35 
 
 24. The coats of the eye - ib. 
 
 25. The humours of the eye 36 
 
 26. Peculiarities relative to the eyes ; help for decayed 
 
 sight ; account of a person couched 42 
 
 27. Queries concerning the eyes - -43 
 
 28. The externa 1 parts of the ear 44 
 The internal : particularly the drum - ib. 
 
 29. The bones, passages, windows, labyrinth 45 
 
 30. The nostrils - - 47 
 
xvm 
 
 PAGE* 
 
 St. Of the tongue . - .49 
 
 A person speaking without a tongue - ib. 
 
 Persons deaf and dumb taught to speak 49 
 
 Dumbness suddenly removed - 50 
 
 Of the teeth - . * ib, 
 
 32. The palate - 53 
 
 S3. The uvula, toasils, and wind-pipe - ib, 
 
 34. The hair 53 
 
 Hair turned white through fear and grief 54 
 
 White triangular hairs 55 
 
 3$. The heart ~ 56 
 
 36. The pericardium - 57 
 
 37. The lungs - - 58 
 
 38. The thorax, intercostal muscles, diaphragm 61 
 59 The pleura and mediastinum - - 62 
 
 40. The external parts of the middle cavity ib. 
 
 An old woman giving suck - 63 
 
 41. The stomach ib. 
 
 42. The intestines and mesentery 65 
 
 43. The lacteal veins 66 
 
 44. The omentum, peritoneum , pancreas 67 
 
 45. The liver, gall, bladder, and ducts ib, 
 
 46. The spleen ib, 
 
 47. The kidneys, ureters, bladder * 68 
 
 48. The hands - ' rb, 
 Account of a man without arms - ib. 
 
 49. The thighs, feet, and legs 69 
 
 50. The animaUspirits - .. ib,' 
 
 51. Secretion of the other a uids - 70 
 
 52. The blood - 71 
 
 53. What are the first elements of the body 74 
 
 54. Reflections - 75 
 
XIX 
 
 CHAP. It 
 
 Of the Natural State ofUe Human Body. 
 
 TfAGB. 
 
 1. What the natural state of the body means 98 
 
 2. Of the circulation of the blood - - ib. 
 5. Of Respiration - 10* 
 
 4. Of chylification 104 
 
 5. Of nutrition - b. 
 
 Uncommon instances of the utility of abstinence 105 
 
 6. Of the senses 107 
 
 7. Of the sight - >b. 
 
 8. The hearing 108 
 
 9. The smelling - - ib. 
 
 10. The tasting '& 
 
 11. The feeling - - 109 
 
 12. Of hunger and thirst - - ib. 
 
 13. Of sleep - >b 
 
 14. Of local motion - - 11^ 
 
 15. Of the voluntary and involuntary motions ib. 
 
 1 6. Of the stature of man & 
 H. Of the age of man - ^*5 
 
 CHAP. III. 
 
 Of the preternatural State of the Human Body. 
 
 U What the preternatural state of the body is 117 
 
 2. The variety of diseases - ib 
 
;!. Reduced to three classes : those of the solids 117 
 
 4. Those of the fluids, particularly the blood 119 
 
 5. Those of the animal spirits ih. 
 
 6. The remote causes of diseases 120 
 
 7. Of fevers - - ib. 
 
 8. The way to preserve health 1 2 ! 
 
 9. Of life and death - - 123' 
 
 CHAP, IV. 
 
 Of the Soul } and of the Origin of Man. 
 
 1. There is something in man, which perceives the various 
 
 motions of the body - - 134 
 
 2. The perception is sometimes continued and recalled ib. 
 
 3. We know some things in a more sublime manner 135 
 
 4. There is something in us which has an appetite to sen- 
 
 sual things ib. 
 
 5 And another appetite which is often contrary to this ib. 
 
 6. How philosophers account for the direction of our bodily 
 
 motions ... ib. 
 
 7. For the external senses - - ib. 
 
 8. The imagination and memory 136 
 
 9. The understanding, will, and affections ib. 
 
 10. This" may be so, or not - - ib. 
 
 11. Of the immortality of the soul - - ib. 
 
 12. Of the union of the soul and body 157 
 
 13. Reason cannot discover the origin of man ib. 
 
 14. The. scriptural account of it ib 
 
XXI 
 
 PAGE. 
 
 15. Of the production of the soul ~ IGft 
 
 1 6. Of the generation of the body ib. 
 
 PART the SECOND. 
 OF BRUTES. 
 
 CHA*. I. O/ Bflwte. 
 
 1. The general difference of men and beasts as to the itruc* 
 
 ture and posture of the body - - 148 
 
 , Their agreement - 150 
 
 3. Their agreement and disagreement as to the head and 
 
 brain - - ib, 
 
 4. The heart and lungs 151 
 
 5. The eyes - - 152 
 
 6. The ears, nose, and teeth - 154 
 
 7. The wind-pipe 156 
 
 8. The vegetative and sensitive motions in brutes ib. 
 
 9. Of the soul of brutes 157 
 JO, Of some particular sorts of beasts - ib. 
 
 Of the elephant - -158 
 
 Of the rhinoceros - 162 
 
 Of the camel * - 163 
 
 Of the dromedary . 1 64 
 
 Of the lamas of Peru . ib. 
 
 Of the castor or beaver - 165 
 
 Of the sham moy - 167 
 
 Of the roe-buak - 268 
 
xxu 
 
 PA?T. 
 
 Of the rein-deer - '- 170 
 
 Of the ass: its properties and utility . 171 
 
 Of the mule - - -172 
 
 Of the zebra - - 174 
 
 Of the squirrel . 1 76 
 
 Of the marmot - - 177 
 
 Of the hedge-hog . 173 
 
 Of the pangolin - 179 
 
 Of the armadillo - 180 
 
 Of animals of the monkey-kind K - 181 
 
 Of the chimpanaze 183 
 
 Surprising assembly of monkies - 'b. 
 
 Of the oppossum 184 
 
 Of the ichneumon - 185 
 
 Of the jackal - 186 
 
 Of the sable mice - .187 
 
 Of the glutton - - 183 
 
 Of the sloth i. 189 
 
 Of the falling off of the horns of beagts * 151 
 
 11. Some general reflections - 133- 
 
 CHAP. II. 
 
 OF BIRDS. 
 
 >. Some general remarks 
 
 2. Of their motion - - 204r 
 
 S. Of their brain % 210 
 
 4. Of their organs of sen s 
 
 5. Of their lungs 
 
 6. Of their stomach and bladder 
 
xxm 
 
 PAGE, 
 
 *?. Of the generation of birds . ib. 
 
 8. Of some particular sorts of birds - g$>? 
 
 Of the largest of birds, the Cuntorof Peru ib. 
 
 Of the smallest, the humming bird - - ib. 
 
 Of vultures : the singular service they are of in Egypt 229 
 
 Their uses in America - 230 
 
 Of looks: their peculiar modes, or systems f ib. 
 
 Of the magpie: its peculiar degrees of instinct 231 
 
 Of the wood-pecker 232 
 
 Of the bird of paradise 234 
 
 Of the American mock-bird : its uncommon properties 235 
 
 Of the crane ib. 
 
 Of the stork ', - 236 
 Remarkable adventure of a tame stork at the university 
 
 of Tubingen - - 237 
 
 Of the pelican : its singular construction and properties ib. 
 Of the albatross one of the largest and most formidable 
 
 birds in America - - 239 
 
 Of the swan : its peculiarities and longevity 240 
 
 Of the goose, and wild-goose 241 
 
 Of the Soland goose 242 
 Of a couple of remarkable eagles, and a Couple of ra- 
 vens, in the isle of Rona, one of the Scotch Western 
 
 isles - - 243 
 
 Of the down-bird in Iceland - ib. 
 
 Of the bat - - 244 
 
 Of the king- fisher ib, 
 
 9. Oeneral reflections - 245 
 
xxtr 
 
 CHAP. III. 
 
 OF FISHES. 
 
 1. The number of fish 256 
 
 2. Their covering ib* 
 
 3. Their brain - ib. 
 
 4. Their organs of sense - - ib. 
 
 5. Gills, or lungs - 38 
 
 6. The heart - 260 
 
 7. The air-bladder - - ib. 
 
 8. The stomach - ib. 
 
 9. The fins - 26.3 
 10. Experiments on fish 263 
 M. Of shellfish - 265 
 
 Of the reproduction of the shells of some fish 266 
 
 Of the extraordinary manner in which lobsters and 
 
 crabs change their shells ib. 
 The remarkable difference of the land crabs on the Ca- 
 
 ribbee Islands - - 270 
 The surprising regularity of their descent from the 
 
 mountains to the sea 271 
 
 Of the soldier crab 272 
 
 Of crabs eyes 273 
 
 Of turbinated fish, of the snail-kind 274 
 
 Of theoyster 276 
 The remarkable movings and operations of the scallop 277 
 
 Of the razor shell - ib. 
 
 Of multivalve shell-fish - 278 
 
XXY 
 
 PAGfi,, 
 
 Of the sea-urchin - . 275 
 
 Of the acotn shell-fish, the thumb-footed shell-fish, 
 
 and the imaginary barnacle 279 
 
 Of themurex, which gives the Tyrian purple 280 
 
 Of pearl muscles - - . 281 
 
 The peculiarities of muscles in general - ib. 
 
 In Port Mahon harbour muscles are found in stones of 
 
 immense magnitude - - 288 
 
 Of the bollani, which are found to live in large stones 
 
 in the Adriatic sea - . - ib. 
 
 Of other shell fish>found in Toulon harbour^ and on the 
 
 coast of Ancona . . 283 
 
 Of the pholades bollani, who buries itself in the hard- 
 est rock ib. 
 Of the animal flower in Barhacloes : it* peculiarities, 
 as it seems an aquatic sensitive plant s - 285 
 
A 
 
 COMPENDIUM 
 
 OF 
 
 NATURAL PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 INTRODUCTION. 
 
 Of the gradual Improvement of Natural Philosophy. 
 
 1. The Order observed in this Treatise. 
 
 2. The Method of philosophizing among the Hebrews and Egyptians , 
 
 3. Among the Greeks. The Philosophy of Pythagoras, Plato* 
 
 and Aristotle. 
 
 4. The different Methods pursued by the four Greek Sects. 
 
 5. The Philosophy of the Schoolmen. 
 
 6. The Revival of Philosophy by Lord Bacon. 
 
 7. Greatly promoted by Philosophical Societies. 
 
 8. The Improvement made in every Branch of it: in Anatomy ; 
 
 the Discovery of the Circulation of the Blood j of the Lacteal 
 Veins ; and the Thoracic Duct. 
 
 9. Of the Generation of all Animals from Eggs. 
 
 10. Of the Transfusion of Blood. 
 
 11. Diseases themselves, and the Operations of Medicines, give 
 
 occasion for farther Discoveries. 
 
 12. Many Anatomical Discoveries have been made by Microscopes. 
 
 13. Many with regard to Brutes, particularly Fishes and Insects. 
 
 14. Many likewise with regard to Plants, Stones, Metals, and 
 
 Minerals, 
 TOL. I. B 
 
2 
 
 15. Great Improvements from the Art of Chyrnistrv. 
 1^5. Discoveries concerning the Loadstone. 
 
 17. Concerning Glass and Burning-Glasses. 
 
 18. The Nature of ihe Air is more accurately discovered by means 
 
 of the Barometer, the Thermometer, and the Air-Pump. 
 
 19. Discoveries relating to \Yater. 
 
 20. Discoveries which shew the Nature of Fire, Gunpowder, 
 
 Aurum Fulminans, Phosphorus. 
 
 21. Of the Earth, and the chief Systems of the Universe. 
 
 22. Of the Sun, the Planets, and their Satellites. 
 
 23. Of the Causes of Natural Bodies. 
 
 24. Of Spirits and Divine Things. 
 
 jSl 
 
 ATURAL PHILOSOPHY treats both of 
 GOD himself, and of his creatures, visible and invisible. 
 Of these 1 purpose to speak in such a manner as to as- 
 cend from the consideration of man, through all the 
 orders of things as they are farther and farther re- 
 moved from us, to GOD the centre of all knowledge. 
 (I mean of visible things ; of the invisible world we 
 cannot know much, while we dwell in houses of clay.) 
 Thus speculative philosophy ascends from man to Goo ; 
 practical, descends from GOD to man. 
 
 2. The most ancient nations, the Egyptians and 
 Hebrews, in particular, philosophized much concern- 
 ing GOD, and concerning Genii, good or evil spirits, 
 of an order superior to man. What they taught con- 
 cerning the visible world, related chiefly to its origin, 
 the changes it was to undergo, and its final dissolution. 
 But on all these heads they only delivered to their pos- 
 terity what they had received from their forefathers. 
 
 3. Among the Greeks, Thales Milesius and his 
 followers, applied themselves with great industry to 
 discover, with the best helps they had, the material 
 causes of natural things. They were succeeded by 
 others who more curiously searched into the structure 
 of natural bodies, lleie the foundation of natural 
 history was laid, in various observations on plants, 
 animals, and other things. And herein the endeavours 
 of A mtut'e and Thcophrastus 5 iu particular ; are to be 
 
commended. Yet, in other respects, Aristotle did not 
 promote, but rather obstruct the knowledge of nature : 
 for he made philosophy as unintelligible by his abstract 
 and metaphysical notions, as Plato, Pythagoras, and 
 others did, by their ideas, numbers, and symbols. 
 
 4. In succeeding times, when the four Greek sects, 
 the Platonic, Peripatetic, Epicurean, and Stoic, du 
 vided the Western world between them, the Piatouists 
 almost confined themselves and their opinions to the 
 subject of divinity ; the Peripatetics regarded little but 
 logick ; the Stoics little but moral philosophy ; and 
 the Epicureans had small concern about any, being 
 immersed in sensual pleasures : so that none of them 
 made any considerable improvement in any branch of 
 natural philosophy. 
 
 5. When the utter barbarism which followed was a 
 little dispelled, Aristotle began to reign. His follow- 
 ers (the School. men, as they were called) might have 
 improved natural philosophy, if (like their master) 
 they had diligently cultivated the knowledge of nature, 
 and searched out the properties of particular things; 
 but it was their misfortune to neglect what was com. 
 mendable in him, and to follow only what was blame. 
 M'orthy, so as to obscure and pollute all philosophy 
 with abstract, idle, vain speculations. Yet some of 
 them, al'ter the Arabians had introduced t' e know- 
 ledge of chymistry into Europe, were wise above the 
 age they liv'ed in ; and penetrated so far into the secret 
 recesses of nature, as scarce to escape the suspicion of 
 magic. Such were Roger Bacon and Albertus Magnus. 
 
 6. After the revival of learning, as all other branches 
 of philosophy, so this in particular received new light. 
 And none was more serviceable herein than Lord 
 Bacon, who, well understanding the defects of the 
 school. philosophy, incited all lovers of natural philo- 
 sophy to a diligent search into natural history ; and he 
 himself led them the way by many experiments and ob- 
 servations. 
 
 7. After this, not single persons only, but whole 
 societies applied themselves carefully to make txperU 
 
 ft? 
 
that having accurately observed the structure 
 and properties of each body, they might the more 
 safely judge of its nature. And the advantages which 
 have arisen from hence, manifestly appear fi oni the 
 memoirs of the royal society at London, of the aca- 
 demy of sciences at Pari?, and those of the same kind 
 in Germany, as well as several other parts of Europe. 
 
 8. To mention but a few of the late discoveries in 
 each branch of natural philosophy, with regard to the 
 structure of a human body, how many things have 
 modern anatomists discovered, which were either littje 
 understood by the ancients, or wholly unknown to 
 them? Such, for instance, is the circulation of the 
 blood discovered by Dr. William Harvey, whose 
 * ( Anatomic Exercitations," concerning it, were first 
 published in the year 1628. Such were the lacteal 
 veins discovered first in brutes by Casper Asellius, of 
 Cremona, and soon after in men. Such the thoracic 
 duct, and receptacle of the chyle, observed first by 
 Dr. John Pecquet, of Paris, whereby the whole course 
 of the blood is now clearly understood. 
 
 9. Dr. Harvey improved natural philosophy by 
 another no less eminent discovery : for he was the first 
 of the moderns that shewed all animals to be generated 
 from eggs. That the ancients knew and taught this, 
 f Orpheus in particular) cannot reasonably be doubted. 
 But as the knowledge of it was entirely lost, to revive 
 was the same thing as to invent it. It is obvious how 
 great a light this pours upon that dark subject with 
 regard to the generation of men, as well as of other 
 animals. 
 
 10. Another remarkable discovery in the last century 
 was that of the transfusion of the blood. The blood of 
 a young, lively, healthy animal, was transfused by 
 means of a small silver tube, properly adjusted into the 
 veins of another which was old, weak, and sickly, 
 and the effect amazed all the beholders. When the ex. 
 pertinent was tried before several of the royal society, 
 a feeble worn-out dog, ready to die with age, and 
 hardly able to trail his legs after him, was no soonar 
 
filled with young blood, than he leaped up as from 
 sleep, shook himself, and ran up and down as lively 
 and active as a puppy. In France the experiment has 
 been made upon men, and with as surprising success. 
 What pity, that so important an experiment should 
 ever fall into disuse; that it is not still repeated upon 
 proper occasions ; especially where all other means 
 tail. 
 
 11. It cannot be denied that physicians hare signal- 
 ly improved this branch of philosophy, as they have 
 continual opportunities of making new discoveries in. 
 the human body. In diseases themselves, the wonder- 
 ful wisdom of the Author of Nature appears; and by 
 means of them many hidden recesses of the human frame 
 are unexpectedly discovered. The powers of medicines 
 also variously exerting themselves, lay open many se. 
 erets of nature. 
 
 1C. And ho\v many things in all bodies, as well as 
 in the human, which eluded all the art and industry of 
 the ancients, have the moderns discovered by the help 
 of microscopes ? Although these are not properly a 
 modern invention, it being certain something of this 
 kind was in use many hundred* years ago. There are 
 several works of great antiquity still extant; the beau- 
 ties of which cannot even be discerned, muca less could 
 they have been wrought by the finest naked eye which 
 ever was in the world. Such is that seal which was for- 
 merly in the cabinet of the late King of France,allowed 
 to be at least 1500 years old, six. tenths of an inch 
 long, and four broad, which to the naked eye presenti 
 only a confused groupe, but surveyed with a micros- 
 cope, distinctly exhibits trees, a river, a boat, and 
 sixteen or seventeen persons. 
 
 13. Now whatever assists us in searching out the 
 structure of a human body, equally helps us to find out 
 the nature and properties of other animals. Hence in 
 these likewise we have received great light, from ana- 
 tomical and microscopical observations. Those espe- 
 cially who have bestowed their whole time and thoughts 
 on one kind of animal', (as Dr. Willoughby, on fishes, 
 
Dr. Swammerdam, of Amsterdam, on insects) have il- 
 lustrated to a surprising degree the subjects on which 
 they wrote. 
 
 14. Many hare diligently searched into the nature 
 of plants; particularly Mr. Hay, who has not only 
 ranged them in a new method, but also wrote an ela- 
 borate history of them. Others have described, with 
 equal diligence, either plants in general or those of a 
 particular country ; and others have shewn the like 
 industry in finding out and explaining the nature of 
 stones, metals, minerals, and other fossils. 
 
 15. Nor is it straijgt* that the moderns have pene- 
 trated farther into the recesses of nature than the an- 
 cients, considering the advantages they have received 
 from the art of chymistry. Not that this is an inveiu 
 tion of later ages : it was in some measure known long 
 ago. But as this art has been cultivated in our age, 
 with far greater accuracy than ever, so by this means 
 many properties of natural bodies have been discover- 
 ed, of fossils in particular. 
 
 16. But none of these have so much engaged the 
 study of the learned, or so well deserved it, as the 
 load-stone. Its attractive force was known to the 
 ancients, and the origin of that discovery is recorded 
 by Pliny. But it does not appear that tiiey knew of 
 iis pointing to the pole, or of the use of the compass. 
 This (the compass) was invented by John Goia, in 
 the year 1300: but it has since been observed, that 
 the magnetic needle seldom points exactly to the pole, 
 but varies from it some degrees to the East or West in 
 a fixed and regular order. 
 
 17. Nearly related to the nature of fossils is glass $ 
 which was well known to the ancients, being men. 
 tioned by Plutarch and Lucian among the Greeks, by 
 Lucretius, Pliny, and others, among the Latins. Yet 
 the art of making glass has been since their times 
 abundantly improved. One branch ot this is, the art 
 of making burning-glasses, which are now brought to 
 so great perfection, as either to melt or reduce to ashes 
 the most solid bodies in a few moments. If these svcro 
 
known to the ancients at all (which may reasonably 
 be doubted) yfet the art \vas wholly lost for many ages, 
 and not recovered till of late years. 
 
 18. Later ages have likewise made many discoveries 
 with regard to earth, water, fire, and air : the last of 
 which, air, though it be of so fine a texture as to be 
 wholly invisible, yet producing such amazing effects, 
 has excited the most diligent enquiries of the curious. 
 Tslor does any part of philosophy afford a wider field 
 for experiments and discoveries. The weight of it we 
 can ascertain by that curious instrument the barometer, 
 invented by Torricellius; the degrees of toat and cold 
 by the thermometer. By the air-pump (invented by 
 Otto Guerick, Mayor of Magdeburg h) the air is drawn 
 out of any bodies, or more largely thrown into them, 
 and hereby many effects are produced which deserve 
 our diligent consideration. 
 
 19. With regard to water, the discoveries of later 
 times are numerous and important. Such are the 
 diving-bell, invented by George Sinclair : the diving- 
 machine of Alphonso Borelli, a kind of boat which is 
 so contrived as to be navigated under water : and th 
 art of making salt-water fresh, which is now done with 
 li( tie expence, so far that the saltuess is taken away, 
 and it is fit for almost all uses. 
 
 20. The nature and properties of fire also have been 
 accurately traced in late ages : for which new occasion 
 was given by the invention of gunpowder, by Berfhold 
 Schwartz, in the fourteenth century. Aurum Fulmi- 
 nans, a yet later invention, goes oti* with a louder ex- 
 plosion than gunpowder. Other bodies there are, 
 which do not burn, yet emit light ; such is the Bo- 
 nouian stone, which placed in the dark, diffuses light 
 like a burning coal. It is well known that the prepa- 
 ration called phosphorus* has the same property. 
 
 21. Various theories of the earth have lately appear- 
 ed, but they are no more that* ingenious conjectures. 
 The same may be said of the systems of the Universe, 
 a lew particulars exeepted. The Ptolemaic system, 
 \vhjch supposes th<; earth to be the centre of the Uni* 
 
8 
 
 verse, is now deservedly exploded ; since Copernicus 
 has revived that of Pythagoras, which was probably 
 received by most of the ancients. Tycho Brahe's, 
 which jumbles both together, is too complex and in. 
 tricate, and contrary to that beautiful simplicity, con. 
 spicuous in all the works of nature. 
 
 22. The telescope (invented by Galileo) has dis- 
 covered many stars unknown to the ancients 5 together 
 with the nature and motion of the planets, both pri- 
 mary and secondary. By this also have been disco- 
 vered the spots of the sun, the inequality of the sur- 
 face of the moon, the nature of the galaxy or milky- 
 way, and many other particulars relating to the 
 heavens. 
 
 23. With regard to body in general, it is common- 
 }y supposed that our age has a vast advantage over an- 
 tiquity, by having found out new principles and new 
 hypotheses, whereby we can account for all the secrets 
 of nature ; but this will bear a dispute. For beside 
 that the chief of our hypotheses are not uevr, but known 
 Jong ago, the learned have hitherto very little profited 
 by all their hypotheses. And in truth, all their dis. 
 quisitions touching the causes of natural bodies, ter. 
 rainate in mere conjectures : one whereof is often more 
 probable than another, but none admits of any solid 
 proof. 
 
 24. What remains of natural philosophy is, the 
 docrrin,e concerning God and spirits. Bat in the 
 tracing of this we can neither depend upon reason nor 
 experiment. Whatsoever men know or can know 
 concerning them must be drawn from the oracles of 
 God. Here therefore we are to look for no new im- 
 provements, but to stand in the good old paths ; to 
 content ourselves with what God has been pleased to 
 reveal, with the faith once delivered to the 
 
PART the FIRST. 
 
 OF MAN. 
 
 CHAP. I. 
 
 Of the Structure of the Human Body. 
 
 1. The similar solid parts. 
 
 2. A fibre. 24. 
 
 3. The Cellular Membrane. 25. 
 
 4. A Bone. 26. 
 
 5. A Cartilage. 
 
 6. A Membrane. 27. 
 
 7. An Artery. 
 
 8. A Vein. 
 
 9* The Lymphatic Vessels, and 
 their use. 
 
 10. A Nerve. 28. 
 
 11. The Flesh. 
 
 12. A Gland. 
 
 13. A Muscle. 
 
 H, The Cucicula and Skin. 29. 
 
 A Boy \\ithadappled Skin. 
 
 15. The Fat. 30. 
 
 16. The Panniculus carnosus. 31. 
 
 17. The dissimilar Parts ; in 
 
 particular, the Head,Ce- 
 rebrum, Cerebellum, Me- 
 dulla oblongata. 
 
 18. The Meniuges. 
 
 19. The Brain. 
 
 20. The Origin of the Nerves. 32. 
 21- The Pineal Gland. 33. 
 22. The guards of the Eye. 34. 
 2.3. The Muscles of the Eye.. 
 
 The Tunica adnata. 
 
 B5 
 
 The Structure of theEye. 
 
 The Coats of the Eye. 
 
 The Humours of the Eye. 
 Peculiarities relative to 
 
 them. 
 Queries concerning the 
 
 Eyes. 
 Help for decayed Sight. 
 
 Account of a person couch- 
 ed. 
 
 The External parts of the 
 Ear. 
 
 The internal : particularly 
 the Drum. 
 
 The Bones, Passages, Win- 
 dows, Labyrinth. 
 
 The Nostrils. 
 
 The Tongue, and Teeth, 
 
 A person speaking without 
 a Tongue. 
 
 Persons deaf and dumb 
 taught to speak. 
 
 Dumbness suddenly re- 
 moved. 
 
 The Palate. 
 
 The Uvula and Tonsils. 
 
 The Hair. 
 
 Hair turned white through 
 fear: 
 
10 
 
 Through grief. 44. 
 
 White Hairs triangular. 
 
 35. The Heart. 45. 
 
 36. The Pericardium. 
 
 37. The Lungs. 46. 
 
 38. The Thorax, intercostal Mus- 47. 
 
 cles. 
 
 Diaphragm. 48, 
 
 The Pleura and Mediasti- 
 num. 
 
 The external parts of the 49. 
 Middle Cavity. 50. 
 
 An old woman giving suck. 51, 
 
 41. The Stomach. 52 
 
 42. The Intestines and Mesen- 53. 
 
 tery. 
 
 43. The Lacleal Veins. 54. 
 
 TheOmentum ^Peritoneum, 
 
 Pancreas. 
 The Liver, Gall, Bladder 
 
 and Ducts. 
 The Spleen. 
 The Kidneys, Ureters ; 
 
 Bladder. 
 The Hands. 
 Account of a Man without 
 
 arms. 
 The Feet. 
 
 The Animal Spirits. 
 Secretion of the other fluids. 
 The Blood. 
 What are the first Elements 
 
 of the body. 
 Reflections. 
 
 OF MAN. 
 
 1. j:\Sman ought to koow himself best, we begin 
 our treatise here. And first, let us contemplate the 
 Human Body. The parts of this are either solid or 
 fluid. Those of the solid, of which the rest are 
 formed, are termed similar parts. Such are fibres, 
 bones, membranes, ligaments, arteries, veins, lympha- 
 tic vessels, nerves, flesh, muscles, tendons : and those 
 general coverings of the body, the cuticle, the skin, 
 fat, and the pauuiculus carnosus. 
 
 2. A fibre is a kind of slender thread, of which all 
 the other parts of the body are woven : according to 
 the difference of which, the substance of the fibres is 
 different also. 
 
 Earth, as an element, is a solid, opaque, angular, 
 friable substance, of such small volatile particles, that 
 
11 
 
 it readily diffuses itself through air and water, and re- 
 sides invisibly in them. And earth eagerly imbibing 
 both air and water, by their means forms the perma- 
 nent basis and growth of all mineral, vegetable, and 
 animal bodies. 
 
 These earthly particles have their connexion and 
 power of cohesion, not from themselves or a mere 
 contact; but from the intermediate glue placed betwixt 
 them. 
 
 That this glue is composed of oil, combined with 
 wafer, by the vital attrition in animals, appears from, 
 the chymical analysis of bones and hair; from the 
 jellyof bones, ivory, and horns ; and from the nature 
 of our ailments themselves. Nor is there any kind 
 of glue that could more powerfully join the parts of 
 animals, as we experience in fish glue, and that v of 
 joiners or cabinet-makers. 
 
 Earthy particles then cohering longitudinally, and 
 tied together by an intervening cohesive glue, com- 
 pose first one of the least or most simple fibres ; such 
 as we have a knowledge of rather from reason than 
 s^nse. 
 
 The finest microscopes have been hitherto insuffi- 
 cient to l<;ad us to a sight of the smallest moving and 
 nervous fibrils, and still less can we ever expect from 
 them, to get any sensible idea of the mechanism by 
 which sensation and motion are effected. 
 
 But the least fibres which appear to the sight are of 
 t\vo kinds. 
 
 Of these .two kinds of fibres, as we shall presently 
 see, we may distinguish the former by the title of fila- 
 mentary, and the latter of membranous. 
 
 The first kind of these fibres is lineal, namely, such 
 a form as makes their length considerably large in 
 proportion to their breadth ; and which, by disposing 
 of the elementary particles in a right line, must of 
 course lay them generally parallel with the neighbour- 
 ing or contiguous iibies. Examples of such fibres we 
 see in me bjat-s, and most easily in those of a foetus ; 
 a iid likewise in tim Un.lons, ligaments, and muscles ; 
 B 6 , 
 
12 
 
 only we must Iicre always remember, that the eye 
 never reaches to the smallest fibres, but to larger ones 
 made up of the smallest, and like to them in slender- 
 ness, placed together in a rectilineal course. That 
 these are not different from the smallest fibres, we are 
 persuaded by the most accurate microscopes of Muysc 
 and Lewenhoeck; by which the muscular fibres divided 
 even to the last, appear similar to the larger, till, at 
 length, they seem mere lines, like spiders threads. 
 
 The second kind of fibres are those which are 
 conjoined with a breadth frequently larger than their 
 length. 
 
 From what has been said, we may admire nature 
 no less for her wise eeconomy than simplicity, in thus 
 forming all that variety of parts we see in an animal, 
 from one simple mass of clay or slimy matter, com- 
 pounded of earth and glue 5 from whence the body 
 is not only augmented from a single point in the ovum 
 to its full growth and stature ; but like the timbers of 
 a ship, is also every day repaired during life, till at 
 length not two jots of the old or first materials remain. 
 This renovation of parts is made slower in some con. 
 stitutions, and in some organs than in others. How 
 quickly the animal humours, with the hair, nails, c. 
 are renewed^ every one knows : and we may venture 
 to say, that once in three years the change is universal^ 
 at the end of which time, though a man remains the 
 same identical person he is not the same matter. 
 
 3. But we proceed from these simple fibres to the 
 next least compounded solid which they compose ; viz. 
 the cellular web-like substance. 
 
 This is made up partly of the simple fibrils, and 
 partly by an infinite number of little plates or scales, 
 wnich, joined in various directions, intercept small 
 cells and web-like spaces ; and by extending round 
 every, even the least moving solid parts of the body, 
 conjoins them ail together in such a manner as not 
 only sustainsjbut allows them a free and ample motion. 
 
The extension of this substance, not only with tta 
 skin round the whole body, but also round every vis. 
 cus or organ, and round every individual moving fibre 
 or vessel of them, into the cavities of the bones, and 
 even the substance of the brain and its medulla, is a 
 modern and wonderful discovery. This substance in 
 its ultimate state being composed of simple membranes,, 
 when compacted and convoluted, gives birth- to the 
 least or most simple vessels, which again reflected 
 through plates of the same substance compacted toge- 
 ther, make compound and vascular membranes:, to the* 
 consideration of which we next proceed. 
 
 Out of this cellular substance compacted by a eon* 
 cretion of the membranous plates or partitions, and 
 pressed together by the force of the incumbent mus- 
 cles, and distending fluids, arise other broad and flat 
 plates or skins in various parts of the body ; which 
 being generally disposed in one and the same direction, 
 seem to have a better right to the name of membrane 
 than the former; and these being convoluted into 
 cones and cylinders, pervaded by a flux of some juice 
 or liquors brought to them, put on the name of ves- 
 sels, or else being extended round some space that is in 
 a plane, parallel to itself, we call it a tunic or coat. 
 
 This cellular substance in the human body, is found 
 throughout the whole ; wherever any vessel or mov. 
 ing muscular fibre can be traced, and this without the 
 least exception, that I know of, in any part whatever. 
 But so far as ever we can trace, it hardly ever admits 
 of any iat into the cells; which are rather moistened 
 by a watry vapour, somewhat oily, exhaled out of 
 the arteries and received again into the veins. 
 
 Its plates or scales are still more loose and open 
 where it divides the muscles and all their iibres (even 
 to the ultimate fibre ; and likewise where it surrounds 
 and sustains the least vessels with their free motion. 
 That within the cavities of the bones is also made up 
 of bony plates, with membranous ones intermixed ; 
 and lastly, it is the most loose and open of all> round 
 
14 
 
 the surface of the body on all sides betwixt the; mus- 
 cles and the skin. 
 
 Through this cellular substance the small vessels 
 are spread, and ramified in all parts of the body ; 
 from whose arterial extremities the fat is deposited 
 into the cells, and afterwards absorbed by the venal 
 orifices. This passage from the arteries, into the adi- 
 pose cells, is so free and short, that there must needs 
 ba very large mouths by which they open, and by 
 which they give admittance to injected mercury, air, 
 or water. The oily fat, in this substance, is separated 
 and expelled from the artery ; not by any long ducts, 
 but by transuding on all sides through the whole ex- 
 tent of the vessel. How quickly it is collected from 
 the arteries, appears from the speedy renovation of 
 it, by a returning fatness after acute diseases. 
 
 \Virhregardtothe sponge-like communications of 
 this substance, it is remarkable, the intervals or spa- 
 ces betwixt the plates or scales that make up their 
 sides in the cellular membrane, are every where open, 
 and form one continuous cavity throughout the whole 
 body. 
 
 That, out of this substance joined with vessels, 
 nerves, muscular and tendinous fibres, (a great part of 
 all which are before formed of this substance only) all 
 the viscera, all the muscles and glands, with their li- 
 gaments and capsules, are entirely composed; and that 
 only from the different length, tension, quantity or 
 proportion of this, the diversity of our glands and 
 viscera arises ; and lastly that this alone makes up by 
 far the greatest part of the whole body, we are certain, 
 if the whole be not formed out of the cellular filaments 
 of this kind. 
 
 4. The hardest part of the body, white and void 
 of sense, is termed a bone. The bones are covered 
 with a thin skin, called the periosteum, extremely 
 sensible. 
 
 The bones consist of thin plates, lyiug one upon 
 
15 
 
 another; and these again, of fibres running length, 
 ways ; some to the extremity of the bone, some not so 
 far. Yet none of them terminate there ; but are coo- 
 tinuetl transversely, and as it were arched, the fibres of 
 one side meeting and uniting with those of the other, 
 and this at each extremity. 
 
 These plates are differently disposed in different 
 bones : in those that have a large cavity, they are 
 contiguous on each side, and very closely united. In 
 those whose cavities are small,many of the inner plates 
 are distant from each other ; having little long celts 
 between them. In bones whose plates are contiguous, 
 there are pores through and between them, (beside 
 those for the blood-vessels.) The first pierce them 
 transversely, from the cavity to the external surface 
 of each plate. The second run lengthways between 
 the plates, and diffuse an oil with which they are sup- 
 plied by the transverse pores. 
 
 The bones are generally bigger at each end than 
 in the middle, that the joints may be firm, and the 
 bones not so easily dilocated. But to strengthen the 
 middle of the bone, the fibres there are more closely 
 compacted. Likewise the bone, being large and hol- 
 low, is not so eir ; Jy broke as if it had been solid and 
 smaller ; for of two bones of equal length and equal 
 number of fibres, that is stronger which has the larger 
 diameter. 
 
 The blood. vessels usually enter the ends of the 
 bones ; the arteries at one end, the veins at the other. 
 The medullary vessels commonly enter the sides of the 
 bone, and that obliquely. 
 
 The marrow is covered with a membrane, wherein 
 are inclosed little ba^s. In these bags are glandulous 
 bladders, serving both to secern the marrow from the 
 blood, and to receive it. Both these and the bags 
 have passages into each other, whereby the marrow 
 has free course. It passes first through the transverse 
 pores of the first internal plate into the longitudinal 
 ones. Thence it proceeds into other transverse pores, 
 when it alters its course again, and exudes farther. 
 
16 
 
 Thus it passes alternately through and between the 
 plates, till it is diffused throughout. In this manner it 
 is diffused through bones, whose plates are contigu- 
 ous. But where the plates are at a distance, the 
 small cells contain glands, which directly supply the 
 plates with marrow* 
 
 The marrow not only serves to keep the substance 
 of the bane moist, but to lubricate the joints, and to 
 hinder the ends of the bane from being worn or 
 ver-heated with motion. It also moistens the Liga- 
 ments, which tie them to each other : as do likewise 
 the glands found in all the joints. The backbone hath 
 these two things peculiarly remarkable. 1. Its dif- 
 ferent articulations from the other joints of the body. 
 For here most of the joints are flat,and withal guarded 
 with asperities and hollows, made for catching and 
 holding ; so as firmly to lock and keep the joints 
 from luxations, but withal to afford them such a mo- 
 tion, as is necessary for the incurvations of the body. 
 2. The difference of its own joints in the neck, back 
 and Idas. In the neck the two upper vetebrae are 
 curiously made, and jointed (different from the rest) 
 for the commodious and easy bending and turning 
 the head every way. In the thorax, and back, the 
 joints &re more close and firm ; and in the loins more 
 lax and pliant; also the knobs and sockets are turned 
 a quite contrary way, to answer the occasions the body 
 hath to bend more there, than higher in the back. So 
 that, us structure is the very best that can be contrived;, 
 for had it been all bone, we could have had no mo- 
 tion in our body ; had it been two or three bones 
 articulated for motion, the medulla spinalis must 
 have been necessarily bruised at every angle or joint;, 
 besides, the whole would not have been so pliable, 
 for the several postures we have occasion to put our- 
 selves in. If it had been made of several bones with- 
 out intervening cartilages, we should have had no 
 more use of it than it' it had been but one bone. If 
 each vertebra had had its own distinct cartilage, it 
 might have been easily dislocated. And lastly > the 
 
17 
 
 oblique processes of each superior and inferior verte. 
 bra, keep the middle one, that it can neither be thrust 
 backwards nor forwards to compress the medulla spi- 
 nalis. 
 
 The pelvis made in the belly by the illium, ossa 
 eoxendicis, and pubis, is larger in a female than in a 
 male skeleton, that there may be more room for the 
 laying of the viscera and foetus. So the cartilage bra- 
 cing together the two sharebones, is twice thicker and 
 laxer in women than in men. As also is the cartilage 
 that ties the os sacrum to its vertebra; and all, to give 
 way to the passage of the foetus. 
 
 Another considerable difference is, in the cartila- 
 ginous production of the seven long ribs, whereby 
 they are braced to the breasUbonc. These are harder 
 and firmer in women than in men ; the better to 
 support the weight of the breasts, the sucking infants, 
 fcc. 
 
 It is remarkable in the joints, and a manifest act 
 of caution and design, 1. That although the motion 
 of the limbs be circular, yet the centre of that mo- 
 tiori is not in a point, but an ample superficies. In a 
 point, the bones would wear and penetrate one ano- 
 ther, and the joints would be exceeding weak. But 
 the joint consisting of two large superficies, concave 
 and convex, some furrowed and ridged, some like a, 
 ball and socket, and all lubricated with an oily sub- 
 stance ; they are incomparably prepared both for 
 motion and strength, 2. That the bones next the 
 joints are not spungy, as rheir extremities commonly 
 are, nor hard and brittle; but capped with a strong, 
 tough, smooth, cartilaginous substance, serving both 
 for strength and motion. 
 
 For a (fording this oily matter there are glandules 
 very commodiousiy placed near the joints, so as not 
 to suffer too great compression by the motion of the 
 neighbouring bones, and yet to receive a due pressure, 
 to cause a stiilicicnt emission of the oil into the joints. 
 Another thing considerable is, that the excretory 
 ducts of the mucilaginous glamls have some length in, 
 
18 
 
 their passage from the glands to their mouths; *lncli 
 is a good contrivance, to prevent their mouths being 
 oppressed by the mucilage, and also to hinder the 
 too plentiful effusion thereof, but yet to afford a due 
 expressure of it at all times, and on all occasions ; 
 particularly in violent and long-continued motions of 
 the join fs, when there is a greater than ordinary ex- 
 pence of it. 
 
 That the nourishment taken in, is continually con- 
 v eyed through the bones, as well as the flesh, appears 
 from an easy experiment^ Mix red liquor with the 
 food of any animals, and in a short time, their bones 
 are died red. When madder root was mixed with the 
 food of a cock, who died after sixteen days, all his 
 bones were red, the internal parts as well as the exter- 
 nal. And the most solid parts were the most 
 deeply tinctured : in swiue the teeth above all the 
 rest. 
 
 5. Annexed to the bones are the cartilages, white, 
 flexible, and smooth \ most of which in process of 
 time become bones, hard and quite void of sense. 
 
 A cartilage is an elastic substance, uniformly com. 
 pact and somewhat transparent, harder and more 
 brittle than a ligament, softer than a bone. It is 
 covered with a fine membrane, folded over the bone, 
 from where the ligament is inserted. Every joint, is 
 inserted with a membrane, which forms a complete 
 bag, and covers every thing within the articulation. 
 The blood-vessels are so small, that they do not admit 
 the red glebules, and are demonstrable only in very 
 young subjects. All round the neck of the bone 
 there are numerous arteries and veins which spread 
 info smaller branches, and communicate with each 
 other. These divide into still smaller branches on 
 the adjoining surface, as they run toward the centre 
 of the cartilage. We can seldom trace them into its 
 substance, because they end abruptly, at the edge of 
 the cartilage. The larger vessels, plunge in by num- 
 berless small holes, and disperse themselves into bran- 
 
J9 
 
 chcs between the cartilage and bone. From these 
 again there arise many short, but small twigs, which 
 shoot toward the outward surface. This distribu- 
 tion of the blood-vessels is very peculiar, and calculat- 
 ed for obviating great inconveniencies. Had they ruri 
 on the outward surface, the pressure and motion of 
 the two cartilages must have occasioned frequent ob- 
 structions and inflammations. But by creeping round 
 the cartilaginous brim, where there is little friction, 
 or under the cartilage, where there is none, they are 
 perfectly well defended from all such accidents. 
 
 Cartilages are admirably contrived for all the pur- 
 poses of motion. By their uniform surface they move 
 one upon another with ease: by their soft, smooth 
 and slippery surface, mutual abrasion is prevented. 
 By their flexibility, the contiguous surfaces are con- 
 stantly adapted to each other. By their elasticity the 
 violence of any shock, which might happen in run- 
 ning, jumping, or the like, is broken, which must 
 have been extremely pernicious, if the hard surfaces of 
 bones had been immediately contiguous. The carti- 
 laginous fibres appear calculated chiefly for this last 
 advantage. To conclude, the insensibility of these 
 cartilages is no less wisely designed, that by this means 
 the necessary motions of the body may be performed 
 without paiu. 
 
 6. The various parts of the body are cloathed with 
 Membranes, which are whitish tuniclos, extremely 
 thin and flexible, composed of fibres interwoven with 
 each other, as a piece of cloth is of threads. They are 
 fastened together by a kind of cartilages, which are 
 termed ligaments. 
 
 7. An artery is a hollow canal, composed of fibres 
 closely twisted together, which conveys the blood 
 from the cavity of the heart to all the parts of the 
 body. All the arteries spring from two, the aorta or 
 great artery and the pulmonary artery. The latter 
 conveys the blood from the rig lit ventricle of the heart,' 
 
20 
 
 through the lungs, into the left ventricle. The for- 
 mer conveys it from the left to all other parts of the 
 body. 
 
 Thearteries ordinarily consist of three coats or mem- 
 branes. The outermost has been generally thought 
 to be composed of fine blood-vessels. The second i^ 
 muscular, and made of firm and strong circular, or 
 rather spiral fibres: of which there are more or fewer 
 strata, as the artery is larger or smaller. These fibres 
 are extremely elastic. The inmost coat is a fine dense, 
 transparent membrane, containing the blood, which 
 otherwise would easily ooze through the spiral fibre. 
 
 On a more accurate examination it has been found, 
 that the outermost coat of all arteries is a cellular sub- 
 stance, composed of fine, pellucid membranes, which 
 may be stretched, even suddenly to a great extent 
 without breaking. And they as suddenly collapse, 
 when that stretching force is removed. These cells 
 contain an oily liquor which their coats secern from 
 the branches of the artery that are spread over them, 
 Thiscellularsubstance of the arteries serves to connect 
 them with- the surrounding part, without hindering, 
 their actions or motions. It gives a safe passage to 
 the vessels of their oilier coats, and supplies oil for lu- 
 bricating them. There is also another cellular sub- 
 stance, between the membranes and the muscular 
 eoat. 
 
 All the arteries begin with a larger trunk, and 
 grow less and less till they are no longer seen Dy the 
 naked eye. Hence they are continued till they inos- 
 culate with the veins, and so form one uninterrupted 
 channel. 
 
 They appear white, because their coats are of so 
 dense a contexture, that the blood is not visible 
 through them.. This proceeding from wider to nar- 
 rower canals is continually obstructed in its passage, 
 but being pushed on from behind, it distends the coats, 
 and causes that leaping motion called the pulse. By 
 this, as well as by their whiteness, arteries are dis- 
 tinguished from veins. 
 
The pulse of a healthy person, rising in the morn* 
 ing, beats 65 in a minute; but ai'trr the fatigue of the 
 day, it will in the evening beat eighty in that time ; 
 and again, by the night's rest or slf*ep, it will become 
 less frequent, till in the morning you will find it re- 
 turn to sixty-five. For the voluntary motions of the 
 muscles, and actions of the external a d internal senses, 
 urge the venal blood on to the heart, which, being 
 thereby oftener stimulated, makes more frequent con- 
 tractions. This is the cause of those paroxysms or 
 fits of increase observable in all fevers towards the 
 evening; for sleep not only retards the motion of the 
 blood, but of all the other humours and actions in the 
 body, 
 
 It is one of the curious observations of Dr. Hales, 
 that the pulse is quicker in small animals. He found 
 the pulse of a horse slower by half than in a man, 
 viz. 3 C Z only in a minute ; whereas, in a dog, the pulse 
 beat 97 in that time. And this we see is conform- 
 able to the blood's heat, measured by the mercurial 
 thermometer of Fajrenheit's scale ; for the blood in 
 oxen, horses, and other large animals at rest, being 
 five or six degrees cooler than in us, will not rise to 
 our heat but by labour ; whereas dogs r cats, and 
 fowls, are five or six degrees hotter than we, (viz, 
 about 102 ;) and the latter, when sitting or brooding 
 on their egg? for young, are still four or five degrees 
 hotter, viz. 107 or 108, which is commonly the heat 
 of our blood in the fit of an ague ; where it is ob- 
 servable, that during the greatest sense of cold chill, 
 the blood is three or four degrees hotter than in health, 
 after which it gains four or five degrees more in the 
 height of the hot fit, viz. 104 or 105 degrees ; but in 
 ardent fevers, where the pulse beats 140, the heat of 
 blood will still be four or five degrees higher, viz. 110. 
 i.e. two or three degrees more than equal to a brooding 
 hen. 
 
 The pulse is more quick in children, and becomes 
 slower in persons as they grow older. The salient 
 point of an ovum beats 134 in a minute. New born 
 
22 
 
 infants have their pulse 120, and from thence, down 
 to old age, it grows slower, to 60 in a minute. A 
 feverish pulse begins at &6 per minute; it is excessive 
 at ISO or 140, which is the number of the pulse with 
 which a person dies. The pulse beats slower in 
 winter, and quicker in summer, by about ten strokes 
 per minute ; and under the torrid zone, it grows 
 quicker to 120. , 
 
 8. A vein is a hollow canal, which receives the bfood 
 from the artery, and conveys it back to the 'heart. 
 The chief veins are three, the vena cava, which pours 
 the blood through a wide passage into the right ven- 
 tricle of the heart ; the pulmonary vein, which in 
 like manner pours it into the left ventricle ; and the 
 Yena portae, which docs not, like the two former, end 
 in a large trunk, but spreads itself at each extremity 
 into numerous branches. 
 
 In the cavity of the \eins there are certain thin tu- 
 nicles, which are termed valves. These, during the 
 regular motion of the blood, lie close to the side of the 
 inner coat; but in case of any obstruction, recede 
 from it and clo,ie the passage, to prevent the blood's 
 failing back. 
 
 9. The lymphatic vessels are small canals full of 
 Talves, consisting of a thin transparent tunic, which 
 convey an extremely clear liquid into the mass of blood. 
 Probably these (as well as the veins) ami all the other 
 vessels, are only continuatior.s of the arteries. 
 
 It has bee-n lately discovered that the lymphatic vcs. 
 sels have two coats, betwixt which there are innumer- 
 able fine filaments containing a nutricious juice, which 
 is conveyed into all parts of the body by a motion from 
 the centre to the circumference, and returns through 
 the inner pipes of the same watry vessels; but this 
 juice, when returning, is no more water or dew, ,but 
 ferment, and the vessels may be termed ferment-vessels. 
 This ferment is conveyed into the blood by a motion 
 from tl e circumference to the centre. 
 
The lymphatics carry their dewy particles through 
 the glandules, which lie between the two coats. In 
 the lowermost end of those glandules, the ferment 
 vessels take their rise. Most of the juice of the lym- 
 phatic vessels is discharged between the coats of the 
 veins, arteries, and vessels, in the mesentery, to be 
 conveyed into all parts of the body, both internal anl 
 external. Even in bearing females, the fruit is not 
 nourished by blood, but by this nutricious juice ; the 
 remaining part of which is transmitted into the blood 
 through the thoracic duct and jugular veins. 
 
 10. A nerve is a whitish, round, slender body, 
 arising from the brain, which is supposed to convey 
 the animal spirits to all parts of the body. What these 
 spirits are none can shew ; nay, we are not sure they 
 have any being. For none can certainly tell whether 
 the nerves are hollow canals or only solid threads en- 
 closed in proper integuments. 
 
 11. The fibrous, soft, reddish part of the body is 
 termed flesh. All fleshy fibres are hollow, and divid- 
 ed through their whole length into little caverns^ 
 wherein the blood is detained, as occasion requires. 
 
 12. A gland is a soft and spungy body, which se- 
 parates some particular liquid from the blood. The 
 larger glands contain arteries, veins, and lymphatic 
 vessels ; but the glands of the intestines are only the 
 tops of the arteries. 
 
 There is a kind of down in the cavity of every gland, 
 which probably does the otnce of a filter, and is that 
 AY hereby a particular humour is separated from the 
 blood. 
 
 The structure of the down. vessel is different accord- 
 ing to the different purposes of nature. Sometimes the 
 liquor filtrated through it, falls drop by drop on a 
 membrane, to which one end of the vessel is fastened, 
 as where it is designed only to moisten the part. Some- 
 times many of these down. vessels spread over the inner 
 
surface of a membranous cell, into which they all 
 pour their liquor, which is discharged at a small orifice. 
 These vessels are often of a. great length, though 
 they take up little room, being wound over one another, 
 sometimes in a single knot and sometimes in several) 
 enclosed in a common membrane. And hence is the 
 distinction of glands into conglobate and conglomerate. 
 
 A conglobate gland is a little smooth body, wrapt 
 up in a fine double skin, with only an artery and 
 nerve passing in, and a vein and excretory duct going 
 out. 
 
 A conglomerate gland is an irregular assemblage of 
 several simple glands, which are tied together and 
 wrapt under one common membrane. 
 
 13. A muscle is a bundle of fibres joined and fasten* 
 ed together, with their proper veins, arteries, and 
 nerves. It is divided into Jittle cells by transverse 
 fibres, parallel to each one, whereby it may be con- 
 tracted and shortened, or relaxed and lengthened 
 again. Its extreme parts are more closely compacted, 
 which we term tendons ; by these the muscles are con 
 nected with tie neighbouring parts. A muscle generally 
 consists of three parts ; the upper, termed the head, 
 the middle, termed the belly, and the lower part or 
 tail. 
 
 Every muscle is divisible into smaller muscles, and 
 those into other still smaller, and so on beyond all 
 imagination. The last and smallest parts are muscu- 
 lar fibres, but there is no assignable point in any 
 muscle wherein there is not some nerve, and here all 
 the nerves disappear ; (in other parts their extremi- 
 ties expand into membranes.) It is therefore probable 
 that the muscular fibres are only the nervous con- 
 tinued. 
 
 14. The cuticle or scarf-skin, is an extremely thin 
 and transparent membrane, void of sense, and cover, 
 ing the skin all over, sticking last to its surface, to 
 
25 
 
 which it is also tied by the vessels that feed it ; it con- 
 sists of several layers of exceeding small scales, whiclt 
 cover one another where it is thick, but in the lips, 
 where it is extremely thin, they little more than touch 
 one another. 
 
 In some creatures (as fishes) these scales are only 
 the excretory ducts of the glands of the skin; in others, 
 those glands have their proper ducts, opening between 
 the scales. 
 
 It is supposed there are in one scale 500 excretory 
 ducts, and that a grain of sand will cover 250 scales* 
 If so, a grain of sand will cover 125,000 of our pores. 
 
 The cuticle serves to defend the nerves of the skin, 
 both from the air, which would dry and make them 
 less sensible, and from rough and hard bodies, which 
 would make a painful impression on the naked nerves. 
 
 Negroes have a skin between the cuticle and the 
 true skin. They are born white, but the middle skin, 
 in a little time, turns black, and gives that colour to 
 the whole body. 
 
 But who can account for the following case? Sir C. 
 Wager had a boy about eleven years old, who was 
 born in Virginia, of negro parents : till he was three 
 years old he was like other black children ; he then, 
 without any distemper, began la have little white 
 specks upon his neck and breast ; these increased with 
 his years, both in number and bigness, so that from 
 the upper part of his neck, quite down to his knees, 
 he was dappled with white spots, some of them broad. 
 er than the palm of a man's hand. They were won- 
 derfully white, equal to the skin of the fairest lady, 
 only somewhat paler. His face, arms, and legs, were 
 perfectly black ; he was exceeding active, sprightly, 
 and more ingenious than is common among that gene- 
 ration. 
 
 Perhaps the following fact is no less difficult to be 
 accounted for. A negro woman, cook to Colonel 
 Barnes, in Maryland, about forty years of age, re. 
 markably healthy, had her skin as dark as that of the 
 
 VOL. j, c 
 
26 
 
 most swarthy African ; but that part of it next hen 
 finger nails, about fifteen years ago, became white. 
 Her mouth soon underwent the same change, which 
 has since gradually extended over the whole body. At 
 present, four parts in live of her skin are white, 
 smooth, and transparent, as in a fair European, ele- 
 gantly shewing the ramifications of the subjacent blood 
 vessels. The other parts daily lose their blackness, 
 and partake of the prevailing colour. The neck and 
 back retain most of their pristine hue ; the head, face, 
 breast, legs, and arms, are all white. Her face and 
 breast, when anger or shame has been excited in her, 
 have been immediately observed to glow with blushes. 
 This is the naked fact ; but upon what principles of 
 philosophy can we account for it ? 
 
 The skin covers almost all the whole body, and is 
 formed of whitish fibres, intermixed with numberless 
 branches of nerves, veins, and arteries. On its sur- 
 face are many furrows or indented lines, having ge- 
 nerally hairs on each side, and pores or little holes of 
 various sizes, serving for the transpiration of super- 
 fluous particles. Under the skin lie the subcutaneous 
 glands, which are supposed to transmit through th6 
 pores an insensible steam, commonly believed to be of 
 the same kind with what, when sensibly thrown out, 
 is .called sweat. 
 
 The pores in our hands and feet are very remark- 
 able. Survey with a glass the palm of your hand, well 
 washed, and you may perceive innumerable little 
 ridges, of equal bigness and distance, every where run- 
 ning parallel with oath other ; these are very ob- 
 servable on the ends and first joints of the fingers and 
 thumb, and near it* root, a little above the wrist. 
 
 Oil these ridges stand the pores, all in even rows. 
 Through a good glass every pore looks like a fountain. 
 The sweat may be. seen to stand therein as clear as 
 rock water : the ridges are so placed that they may 
 better suit with the use and motion of the hand ; those 
 on the lower side of each triangle to the bending in ot 
 
the fingers ; those on the other two sides, and OH the 
 elliptic ridges, to the pressure of the hand or fingers 
 en Is against any body, requiring them to yield to the 
 right and left. 
 
 The pores are placed on these ridges, not in the fur- 
 rows between them, that their structure may be less 
 liable to be injured by compression, whereby the 
 furrows only are dilated or contracted : the ridgts 
 constantly maintaining themselves; and so the pores are 
 unaltered. For the same reason the pores are very 
 large, that they may be the better preserved ; though 
 the skin be never so much compressed and condensed, 
 by the constant labour of the hand : and so those on 
 the feet, that they may be preserved, notwithstanding 
 the compression of the skin, by the weight of the 
 whole body. 
 
 Through the pores there continually transudes a 
 subtle vapour from every point of the body, being 
 what redounds of the aliment, comminuted to the 
 highest degree, arid sent to repair every particle of it. 
 And the matter thus evacuated is more than is thrown 
 out by all the other passages together. 
 
 A person of middle age found what he perspired was 
 five eighths of the food taken in, so that there remain, 
 ed only three eighths for nourishment and all other 
 evacuations. Me observed also that so much is per. 
 spired in one day, as passes by stool in fourteen ; ariu 
 more particularly, that in a nig Ill's time about sixteen 
 ounces are usually thrown out by urine, four by stool, 
 and about forty by insensible perspiration, 
 
 If a man eats and drinks eight pounds in a day, five 
 pounds of it pass by perspiration; namely, about one 
 pound within five hours after eating, (perspiration be- 
 ing least of all soon after eating) from the fifth to the 
 twelfth hour, about three pounds, and from the 
 twelfth to the sixteenth, scarce half a pound. Exercise 
 increases perspiration much ; but it is naturally less iu 
 women than men. 
 
 While this steam Hows from our body, it constantly 
 imbibes a supply of moisture from the air. which serves 
 c 2 
 
28 
 
 to keep all Us parts soft, pliant and fit for motion. 
 Hence, from the greater moisture of the air, we per- 
 spire less in winter than in summer, and in rairty 
 weather than in fair. Live therefore, if possible, in 
 a clean house, and in a pure, dry air. 
 
 This inhalation is very considerable. Dr. Keil 
 found his body to have imbibed in one night eighteen 
 ounces of moisture. And on a sudden change of wea- 
 ther from dry to wet, the inspiration, sometimes ex- 
 ceeds the expiration ; there being absorbent-veins, 
 which accompany the numberless arteries from which 
 the perspiration is discharged. To the matter thus 
 imbibed (not the obstruction of the pores) he ascribes 
 what we term a cold. Sweating cures this, by 
 throwing out the noxious matter which was imbibed 
 before. 
 
 The cutaneous vessels both exhaling and inhaling, 
 are capable of contraction and relaxation, by the 
 power of the nerves. This appears from the effects 
 of the passions, which if joyful, increase the circula- 
 tion, and relax the exhaling vessels. Those passions 
 on the contrary, which are sorrowful, and retard the 
 circulation, contract the exhaling vessels, as appears 
 from the dry ness and corrugation of the skin, like a 
 goose-skin after frights ; and from a diarrhoea caused 
 by fear. But the same affections seem to open the 
 inhaling vessels ; whence the variolous or pestilential 
 contagions are easily contracted by fear. 
 
 The benefits of insensible perspiration are so great, 
 that Jife cannot be preserved without it. And the 
 subtility, equability, and plenty of what we perspire, 
 are the grand symptoms of health. 
 
 But how little do we know even of our own frame ! 
 Jt has hitherto passed as an unquestionable triith,that 
 the samematterwhich passes by insensible perspiration, 
 passing in great quantities, is sweat. Whereas an ii> 
 genious physician, Dr. Rogers, has found by numerous 
 experiments, that a person perspires abundantly Jess, 
 when he sweats, than when he does not ; that one 
 who perspires twenty four-ounces in seven hours sleep, 
 
29 
 
 if he sweats, does not porspire above six. This he tried 
 many times, and never found it to fail. Whence he 
 infers, 1. That it is not the same matter which is 
 evacuated by insensible perspiration and by sweat ; 
 
 2. That it is not evacuated through the same pores : 
 
 3. That the sweat.pores are abundantly larger and 
 fewer, than those which serve insensible perspiration : 
 
 4. That sweat greatly hinders that perspiration, both, 
 by covering those pores with a clammy liquor, and by 
 constringing them so that they cannot open, which 
 must be the ease, when the sweat pores are dilated. 
 What a field does this open ! 
 
 Some queries proposed concerning perspiration, by 
 an ingenious writer, seem to deserve a serious conside- 
 ration. 1. " Why do carnivorous animals sweat 
 50 little? A fox hunted almost to death never sweats. 
 2. Why do those which feed on vegetables perspire 
 so much? Horses and cows for example. We may 
 often see them involved in a cloud of their own va- 
 pours, yea, almost covered with froth. 3. How can 
 animals, whose natural food is vegetables, be kept 
 alive, and in health, in very cold climates, by purely 
 aninral food ? Cows in Iceland and Norway are fed 
 in winter upon fish-bones." I would beg leave to ask 
 4. Do the sweat pores only imbibe? Or those also s 
 which serve for insensible perspiration f 
 
 15. Fat, a whitish oily substance, void of sense, is 
 secreted from tha blood, and lodged in small oval, 
 membranous bags, which shoot out of the arteries. It 
 is found in various parts, but chiefly under the skin, 
 where (unless a man be emaciated) it runs co-extended 
 with the skin over most parts of the body. 
 
 Fat is secerned from the arterial blood by the adi- 
 pose glands, and transmitted again from the membra- 
 nous cells to the blood through the veins. It seems 
 to be a portion of the blood coagulated by the nitrous 
 air mixed with it in the lungs. Artificial fat is made, 
 by mixing for some dap oil of olives with spirit of 
 
30 
 
 nitre. Hence divers animals grow fat hi frosty wea- 
 ther, the air then abounding with nitre. 
 
 The uses of the Tat are various; as to facilitate the 
 motions of the muscles in all parts, lessen their attri* 
 tion against each other, and prevent a stiffness or ri. 
 gidity, it fills up the intermediate spaces between the 
 muscles, in such a manner, with the cavities about 
 many of the viscera, that it readily yields to their mo- 
 tions, and yet supports them when at rest ; it serves as 
 a stratum or bed to conduct and defend the vessels in 
 their course to ail parts, it gives an uniform extension 
 to the skin, and serving as a cushion to ease the weight 
 of the body in many parts, at the same time it renders 
 the whole of a- comely agreeable shape : it probably 
 by returning and mixing with many of the humours, 
 abates their acrimony ; it has a principal share in 
 forming the matter of the bile, and by transuding 
 through the cartilaginous incrustations of the benefit 
 mixes with the articular liniment or synovia ; also by 
 exhaling in a living person from the mesentery, mcso. 
 colon, omentum, and round the kidneys, it lubricates 
 the surfaces of the viscera with an oily emollient 
 vapour, and by interposing betwixt their integuments, 
 prevents their growing one to another. 
 
 Yet too much fat is a real disease, which hinders 
 the motion of the lungs, entangles the most active 
 particles of the blood, and naturally creates dulness 
 and heaviness. You may cure this, by following 
 three plain rules : eat and drink little ; sleep little ; 
 work much. 
 
 16. The fourth general integument is the panni- 
 culus caruosus, which in some parts is of a fleshy 
 substance ; in othersj a mere membrane^ lying just 
 under the fat. 
 
 1.7- The dissimilar parts are composed of the simi- 
 lar. The chief of these is the head. The cavity of 
 the skull is nearly filled with a soft substance, termed 
 in general the brain. But this is properly that part 
 
of it which lies forward. The hinder part (conside- 
 rably smaller) is called the cerebellum. Under both, 
 but chiefly the latter, and springing from the internal 
 substanee ofboth, is the medulla oblongata. 
 
 The skull is divided into two plates, one laid over 
 the other. Between these is a spongeotis substance, 
 made of boney fibres detached from each plate. 
 Hereby the skull is made not only lighter, but far less 
 liable to fractures. 
 
 The skull is covered with a membrane called the 
 pericranium. This has several holes, which, give 
 passage to the spinal marrow, the nerves, arteries^ 
 and veins. But these fill them so nicely, that nothing 
 can pass into or out of the head, but through these 
 
 It is round, that it may contain the more ; but a 
 little depressed and longish, advancing out behind, anc} 
 flatted on the sides, which contributes to the enlarge- 
 ment of the sight and hearing. 
 
 It is divided into pieces by four sutures. This 
 makes it less liable to break, gives passage to the 
 membranes of the pericranium, and vent to the matter 
 of insensible perspiration . 
 
 18. All these are involved in two membranes, the 
 inner (called pia mater) extremely thin, the outer 
 ^called dnra mater) considerably harder and thicker. 
 Where tlicy involve tl*e cerebellum, there is inter- 
 posed between them the araclmoides,a Tery subtle and 
 transparent membrane, which descending through the 
 hinder part of the skull, together with them involves 
 the whole spinal marrow. 
 
 19. The outer part of the brain (called the cortex 
 or bark) Is of an ashy or greyish colour. It is form-* 
 ed from the minute branches of the neighbouring ar- 
 teries, which being wove together in the pia_,pter, 
 enclose the inner part, ordinarily to the thickness of 
 about half an inch. 
 
 It consists, therefore, of innumerable little glands, 
 c 4 
 
32 
 
 contiguous to each other, (supposed to secern the 
 animal spirits) which are of themselves oval, but by 
 their mutual pressure become angular, and run wav- 
 ing with each other. 
 
 The inner part (called the medulla) is white, and 
 terminates in another medullary substance, very white 
 and hard, called the corpus callosum. The medulla 
 is thought to consist of fine tubes, which when col- 
 lected into little bundles, and covered with membranes 
 arc termed nerves. 
 
 20. To trace this a little farther. From every 
 point of the outer brain arise minute fibres, which in 
 their progress uniting together, are easily perceptible. 
 These constitute the substance of the inner brain, and 
 of the spinal marrow. In their farther progress they 
 are distinguished by coats 5 detached from the two mem. 
 branes of the brain, into several bundles called nerves, 
 resembling so many horse-tails, each wrapt up in a 
 double tunic. 
 
 Several of these part from the rest in the brain 
 itself, of which there are ten pair ; one on each side. 
 From the spinal marrow there arise thirty pair more* 
 All these, while within the skull or the spme, are 
 pulpous ; but afterwards harden, acquire a coat, and 
 spread through the smallest points of the solid parts 
 of the body. Their coats are every where furnished 
 with blood-vessels, lymphatics^ and vesicle ~f a * 
 Tfiiy tight texture. whi* y ervc to collect, strengthen, 
 and contract their fibres. And if we consider, 1. 
 The great bulk of the brain, cerebellum and spinal 
 marrow, (whereof the whole substance goes to con. 
 stitute nerves, being continued into, and ending iji 
 them :) The great number of nerves distributed 
 hence throughout the whole body : 3. That the brain 
 and spinal marrow are the basis of an embryo, 
 whence the other parts are afterwards formed : And 
 lastly, that there is scarce any part of the body, 
 which does not feel or move ; it may seem not alto- 
 gether improbable, that all the solid parts of the body ? 
 
33 
 
 arc woven out of nervous fibres, and wholly consist 
 of them. 
 
 21. The brain is divided into four ventricles. Near 
 the rise of the fourth, there is a round hole, over 
 which is suspended the pineal gland, so called from 
 its resembling the shape of a pine-apple. It is furnish- 
 ed with veins and arteries, and enclosed in a thin 
 membrane, derived from the pia mater. Des Cartes 
 imagined this to be the seat of the soul, but without 
 any solid reason. Nor has any one yet been able to 
 discover, what is the use of it. Is it such a reser- 
 voir of blood for extraordinary occasions^ as some ima- 
 gine the spleen to be? 
 
 The brain is abundantly bigger in proportion in man 
 than in other animals. In other animals it is com. 
 monly biggest, caster is paribus, in those thathaye most 
 sagacity. 
 
 There are in the brain multitudes of vessels so ex- 
 tremely small, that if a globule of blood, (a million. 
 of which exceed not a grain of sand in bigness) were 
 divided into 500 parts, those parts would be too 
 large to pass through them. And these vessels are as 
 large in the brain ot a sparrow, as in that of an ox. 
 Nor is there any difference between the brain of a 
 large animal and a small, but that one contains fac 
 more of these vessels than the other. But the glo- 
 bules of the fluid passing through them are in all ani- 
 mals of the same size. 
 
 The outer part of a turkey's brain is a very clear 
 and transparent oily matter. Innumerable fine blood- 
 vessels are spread through every part of tbis. And 
 if a small part is cut, there ilows out a small globule 
 of pellucid fluid. 
 
 The brain is not absolutely necessary to animal 
 life. Infants have "been born, and lived some time 
 without any. We have an authentic account from. 
 Paris, of a child that survived the birth four days, not 
 only without a brain, bit even a head : instead of 
 which it had a mass of ilesh, somewhat like liver. In. 
 c 5 
 
34 
 
 a clnlA was born alive without any brain, cere, 
 bellum or medulla oblongata ; the skull being solid; 
 nor had it any communication with the spinal mar- 
 row. Mr. du Verney took out the brain and cere- 
 bellum of a pigeon, yet it lived and walked about. 
 Mons. Chirac took out the brain of a dog ; yet he 
 lived. On taking out the cerebellum he seemed dead 
 but revived, when he blew into the lungs, and conti- 
 nued alive an hour. Nay, there are many instances 
 of insects living a long time, after their head is cutoff. 
 Hence it appears, that the spinal marrow alone may, 
 for a season, suffice both for life, sensation, and 
 motion. 
 
 Are there distinct provisions for the vital or spon. 
 taneous, and for the animal or voluntary actions ? 
 And does the cerebellum furnish the heart, and other 
 vital organs with nerves, while the brain supplies 
 the nerves, which go out to the organs of sense 
 and voluntary motion ? This is an elegant system, 
 but is every where confuted by anatomy. From 
 the cerebellum, the fifth pair of nerves is manifestly 
 produced, but this goes to the tongue, to the muscles 
 of the outward ear, of the eye, and of the nose, which 
 are parts, all of them either moved by the will, or 
 else destined tp sensation. Again, from one and the 
 same nerve there are vital branches sent to the heart 
 and lungs, and others that are animal and voluntary 
 to the larynx, or sensitive in the stomach. Lastly, 
 the repeated accounts of injuries to the cerebellum, 
 being so speedily fatal, are not altogether true, for 
 that both wounds and scirrhosities of this part have 
 been sustained without any fatality to the patient, may 
 be affirmed by certain experience. 
 
 22. The eyes next offer themselves to our obser- 
 vation, guarded by the eye-lids, eye-lashes, and eye- 
 brows. Tbc eye-lids consist of the cuticle, the skin, 
 a thin expansion of the panniculus carnosus, and an 
 inward coat. A palisade 01 short, but stilt hairs grows 
 out of iheir cartilaginous e ge, both to break the to*) 
 fierce impression of the rays of light, and to prevent 
 
35 
 
 any, thins; from getting into the eye, when opeiu These 
 hairs only grow to a convenient length, and their 
 points stand out of the way, those of the upper eye- 
 lids being bent upward, and those of the lower, down- 
 ward. Mean time the eye-brows hinder sweat, or any 
 thing else which might be hurtful, from falling down 
 from the forehead. 
 
 Both the eye-lids are moveable; but chiefly the 
 upper. Animals which have hard eyes, as lobsters, 
 need none, and therefore have no eye-lids. But most 
 brutes have an additional eye-lid (called the nictitating 
 membrane) which draws like a curtain, to wipe off 
 what might incommode the eye. The monkey indeed 
 has it notj as being furnished with hands like a 
 man. . ' 
 
 23. The eye can move upward, down ward; to either 
 side, and round, either toward the right or left. For 
 these six motions, six muscles are allotted, wfrich 
 spread their tendons far into the eye. At each inner 
 corner of the eye, there is a gl ind with two or three 
 ducts, which opening on the inner surface of the eye-lid, 
 keep the eye-bail moist, to facilitate its motion. By 
 these glands, tears also are secerned, The eye is con- 
 nected with the surrounding bones by the tunica ad. 
 nata, commonly call the white of the eye, in the 
 midst of which is a large hole for the tunica cornea, 
 through which the iris and pupil appear. The whole 
 ball of the eye rises from the optic nerve, aiu! is 
 formed of three coats* propagated from it.aucl as many 
 Lumours, two of which, have each a. coat of us own 
 also. The eye therefore has five coats iu all : three 
 common, and two to contain their several humours. 
 
 24. The outermost coat, proceeding from the dura 
 mater, and surro ndm^ the whole eye, is termed the 
 sclerotica ; the >;e part of it being transparent like 
 horn, is thence -styled the cornea. Tnis. is more con* 
 vex than the tvs. . ^f the eye. It is composed of seve- 
 ral parallel pnut*, w i.ea <uo nourished by many 
 
 c 6 
 
blood- ressels, but so fine, as not to hinder the smaU 
 )est rays of light. It has an exquisite sense, that oa 
 the least touch of any thing, the tears may be expres- 
 sed, to wash off any filth, which by adhering to it 
 jaight render it dim or cloudy. The rest of the scle- 
 rotica is opaque, and of the same colour with the 
 dura mater. 
 
 The second coat is called the uvca. It is much 
 thinner than the former, though thicker than the pia 
 mater from which it proceeds. In the forepart of it 
 Is a round hole, which with the chrystalline humour 
 interposed, constitutes the pupil, surrounded by the 
 iris, so named, from its supposed resemblance to the 
 colours of the rainbow. The thirJ and inmost coat 
 is termed the retina. It is extremely thin and soft, 
 and darker-coloured than the lower part of the optic 
 nerve, of which it is a continuation. 
 
 ** If it be questioned, says Dr. Haller, whether 
 the object is painted upon the retina, or upon the 
 choroides; we answer, this late supposition is incon- 
 sistent with known observation, by which the retina 
 IB evidently a most sensible expansion of the nerve, 
 while the choroides has only a few nerves, with smali 
 vessels which are certainly blind. It is also opposed 
 by the great variety of the choroides in different ani- 
 mals, while the constant uniformity of the retina is 
 equally remarkable, to which add the black membrane 
 that is interposed betwixt the retina, and choroides, 
 in some kinds of fish. Finally, anatomy demonstrates 
 that the choroides is seated in the blind part of the 
 eye, but is itself of a white colour," 
 
 25, The Aqueous humour,resembling the colour and 
 consistence of water, lies in the fore part of the 
 eye, just behind the cornea : its interior surface is 
 con-vex ; the other, a little concave. Whence this 
 humour is derived we cannot tell ; but its source must 
 be plentiful, for if the coat containing it be so wound* 
 cd, that all the humour runs out, it needs only to keep 
 
37 
 
 the eye close for a season, and the wound will heal, 
 and the humour recruit. 
 
 Indeed an eminent Italian affirms, that he has slit 
 the pupil of divers animals, and squeezed out all the 
 humours, and has afterwards restored them perfectly 
 to sight : nay, that the eyes of many, instead of being 
 damaged thereby, seemed more lively and vigorous 
 than before. 
 
 The second humour, termed (improperly enough ) 
 the chrystalline, consists of many thousand filaments 
 tending from the circumference to the centre, and 
 closely woven together. Jt is a little convex before, 
 and more behind. It serves to refract the rays of light 
 so that they may meet and form an image,on the bottom 
 of the eye. It is set in the forepart of the vitreous 
 humour, like a diamond in its collet, .and is retained 
 there by a membrane that surrounds it, thence called 
 its capsula. It is toward the outside like a jelly ; 
 but toward the centre as hard as salt. The figure of 
 the outer part is varied by a ligament annexed, which 
 can make it either more or less convex, or move it to 
 or from the retina. And this is absolutely necessary, 
 in order to distinct vision, for as the rays of distant 
 objects diverge less than those of near objects, the 
 dirystalline must either be made less convex, or be 
 set farther from the retina. 
 
 When dried, it appears to consist of a vast number 
 of thin, round scales, one upon another, 2000 of whicli 
 have been counted in one chrystalline. Each of these 
 consists of a single fibre, wound this way and that, iu 
 a stupendous manner, so as to run several courses,aud 
 meet in as many centres, and yet not interfere or cross 
 in any place. 
 
 The third, which is termed the vitreous humour, is 
 not unlike melted glass. It is covered with an ex- 
 ceeding thin coat. The forepart is concave, as re- 
 ceiving the chrystalline ; the other side is convex. 
 
 The whole apparatus of the eye tends to this, that 
 there be produced in the bottom of it, a distinct col- 
 k-ction of all the rays, which proceeding from any 
 
38 
 
 point of an object, penetrate the chrystalline humour, 
 that so an image of that object may be painted there. 
 In order to this, the rays striking on the cornea, are 
 reflected toward the perpendicular, and thus directed, 
 through the pupil to the chrystalline. Mean time 
 the iris, contracting or dilating the pupil, admits 
 fewer or more rays, as the object is more or less vivid. 
 
 Now the flatter the cornea is, the fewer rays does 
 it collect and transmit to the chrystalline, and those 
 more diverging. The rounder it is, the more rays 
 does it collect and transmit, and those more converg- 
 ing.* It is too flat in old men; it is too round in them 
 that are short-sighted. The rays transmitted through 
 the pupil to the chrystalline humour, are th^re re- 
 fracted anew, collected and rendered converging, and 
 those that come from the same point, are thrown in 
 one point on the bottom of the cyo. But if the chrys- 
 talline be too dense, the focus (or point wherein they 
 unite) will be too near : if that bs not dense enough, 
 it will be too remote. And this is another cause of 
 short-sightedness or the contrary defect. 
 
 In all vision both the eyes are used at once. And 
 both together (as any one will lind upon trial) be- 
 hold an object in another situation than either of 
 them apart would do. Hence a gentleman who had 
 one of his eyes struck out, for some months after 
 was apt to mistake the situation of things, and when 
 he attempted to pour liquors into phials, often poured 
 them quite beside the neck of the phials. 
 
 Two eyes greatly contribute, if not to distinct, at 
 least to extensive vision. When an object is placed 
 at a moderate distance, by tiie means of both eyes 
 we see a larger share of it than we possibly could 
 with one ; the right eye seeing a greater portion of 
 i.ts right side, and thj left eye of its correspondent 
 tide. Thus both eyes in some measure sec round the 
 object ; and it is this that gives it in nature, that 
 bok relievo, or swehsng, with which it appears ; and 
 which no painting, how exquisite soevoi, can attain, 
 to. The painter must be contented with shading on 
 
39 
 
 a flat surface ; but the eyes in observing nature, do 
 not behold the shading only, but a part of ihe figure 
 also, that lies behind those very shadings, which gives 
 it that swelling, which painters can never fully imi- 
 tate. 
 
 There is another defect, which either of the eyes, 
 taken singly, would have, but which is corrected by 
 having the organ double. In either eye there is a 
 point, which has.no vision, so that if one of them only 
 is employed in seeing, there is a part of the object to 
 which it is always totally blind. This is that part of 
 the optic nerve where its vein and artery run ; that 
 point of the object that is painted there, must conti- 
 nue unseen. To be convinced of this, we have only 
 to try a very easy experiment. If we take three black 
 patches, and stick them upon a white wall, about a 
 foot distant from each other, each about as high as the 
 eye that is to observe them, then retiring six or seven 
 feet back, and shutting one eye, by trying for some- 
 time, we shall find, that while we distinctly behold the 
 black spots that are to the right and lofty that which 
 is in the middle remains totally unseen. When we 
 bring that part of the eye, where the optic artery 
 runs, to fall upon the object, it will become invisible. 
 This defect, in either eye, is corrected by both, since 
 the part of the object that is unseen by one, will be 
 distinctly perceived by the other. 
 
 Trie forai of the eye is the most commodious which 
 can be imagined. It is fittest both to contain the hu~ 
 mours within, and to receive the images of objects 
 from without. VV 7 as it square, or of any multangular 
 form, some of its parts would lie too far off, and some 
 too nigh those lenticular humours, which by their 
 refractions cause vision. But by means of this form, 
 the humours are fitly placed to perform their office of 
 refraction, and the little darkened cell neatly adapted 
 to receive the image of the object. <-> 
 
 Again. As it is necessary for the eye to move 
 various ways, in order to adjust itself to various ob. 
 jects ; so by this %urc it is well prepared for such 
 
40 
 
 motion?, and can with ease direct itself as occasion 
 requires. 
 
 No less commodious is the situation of the eye : 
 in the most eminent part of the body, and near the 
 most sensible part, the brain. By its eminence in the 
 body, it can take in the more objects, and by its 
 situation in tlie head, besides its nearness to the brain 
 it is most conveniently placed for defence and seciu 
 rity. In the hand it might have been more ready for 
 service : but to how many dangers would it have been 
 exposed I The same may be said, as to its site iu 
 any other part but where it is. But the head is a part 
 that seems contrived and made chiefly for the use of 
 the principal senses. 
 
 Some odd circumstances relative to the eyes, are 
 related by a physician in the Philosophical Transac- 
 tions. 
 
 u A person had no visible disease in his eyes, yet 
 could not see, unless he squeezed his nose with his 
 fingers, or saddled it with narrow spectacles, and then 
 he saw very well. 
 
 a A maid, 23 years old, could see very well, but 
 no colour besides white or black. She ceuld some* 
 times in the greatest darkness, see to read almost a 
 quarter of an hour. 
 
 < ; A sadler's daughter had an imposthume, which 
 broke in the corner of her eyes, and out of it there 
 came about thirty stones, as big as small pearls. 
 
 " A young man in Suffolk, about twenty years of 
 age, has all the day a clear and strong sight. But 
 when twilight comes, he is quite blind, nor can he 
 see any thing at all, either by lire-light or candle- 
 light. No glasses give him any help. He has been 
 thus, ever since he can remember. This cloudiness 
 comes gradually upon him, like a mist, as day- light 
 declines. It is just the kame, both in summer and 
 winter, and at all times of the moon. 
 
 " When I was about sixty my sight was so decay. 
 ed ? that I could not distinguish men from women. L 
 
41 
 
 received no help from any glasses, till I took specta- 
 cles with the largest circles. Close to the upper se. 
 micircle on both sides, I cut the bone, and taking 
 out the glasses, put black Spanish leather, taper. wise 
 into the emptied circles. These took in my whole 
 eye at the wider end, and through the narrower end 
 I can read the smallest print. Into this end I can 
 only put my little finger, not quite to the first joint. 
 But they may be made wider or narrower^ and longer 
 or shorter, as best fits every eye. 
 
 " At first I could not bear them above two hours 
 at a time : now I can use them above twelve hours in 
 four and twenty. Aiid they prove a great help to those 
 who are purblind, who have weak eyes or decayed 
 with age. But for the purblind they must be made 
 shorter, longer for eyes decayed with age. 
 
 ft Instead of leather, they may be made of paper, 
 coloured black, and pasted on, and with inner folds 
 to be drawn out, Jrom one inch to three." 
 
 In some men the iris has a faculty of darting out 
 light. .Dr. Willis mentions one, who after drinking 
 wine plentifully, could see to read in the darkest night, 
 And Pliny records of Tiberius Cesar, that if he waked 
 in the night, he could see every thing for awhile, a<s 
 in the broad day-light. Dr. Briggs gives a parallel 
 instance of a gentleman iu Bedfordshi're. 
 
 iv G Shu various substitutes for the use of the eyes, 
 in many blind persons. In some the defect has been 
 supplied, by au excellent gift of remembering what they 
 had seen ; in some by a delicate sense of smelling ; iu 
 Others, by a fine sense of hearing. So Richard Clut- 
 tcrbuck of Rcdborough in Gloucestershire, who was 
 stone bliudj had so curious an ear, that he could hear 
 the fine sand of an hour glass full. In some it has 
 been supplied by an exquisite sense of feeling, so that 
 the same Richard Clutterbuck was able to perform all 
 sorts of curious works. He could not only take a 
 watch in pieces, and set it together again, but could 
 also make all sorts of stringed instruments of music* 
 He likewise played ou them by notes cut in their 
 
4S 
 
 usual form, and set upon protuberant lines on the 
 wood. Yet evcu this hardly came up to the skill of 
 Van-Eyck, the organist of Utrecht, who, though he 
 had been blind from two years old, played on all 
 sorts of instruments. 
 
 Others have been able to take a face by the touch, 
 and mould it in wax with the utmost exactness : as 
 was the blind sculptor, who thus took the likeness of 
 the Duke de Bracciano, and made a marble statue of 
 King Charles the first extremely well. 
 
 26. But more than all this, some persons have been 
 able even to distinguish colours by the touch* Peter 
 t)f Maestricht, though perfectly blind, distinguished 
 l)y his touch the different colours of cloth. John 
 Vermaasen of Utrecht did the same; judging by the 
 different degrees of roughness which he felt. 
 
 Yet blind persons. even though they distinguish them 
 by the touch, have no idea of Tisible objects. Thus 
 the gentleman couched by Dr. Chesselden : he had 
 no idea of distance, but imagined all the objects ho 
 saw, touched his eyes in the same manner as those 
 he felt did his skin. 
 
 An extract from Dr. Chesscldcn's account of this 
 person, will not be unacceptable to the curious. 
 
 u This young ger*$emn ecuhl ia ft strong light dis- 
 tinguish black, white, and scarlet, Yet the faint 
 ideas he had of them before he was couched, did not 
 suffice to make him know them after. He now thought 
 scarlet the most beautiful of all colours. Of others, 
 the most gay, were the most pleasing. But the first 
 time he saw black, he was very uneasy, yet after a 
 while lie was reconciled to it. When he first saw, 
 no objects was so agreeable to him as those that were 
 smooth and regular, although he knew not the shape 
 of any thing, nor could distinguish one from another, 
 either by its shape or size. Being told what those 
 things were, whose forms he knew by feeling, he 
 would carefully observe, that he might know them 
 again. - Thus, having often forgot which was the cat 
 
43 
 
 and which the clog, he was ashamed to ask, but catch- 
 ing the cat, (which he knew by feeling) he looked at 
 her stedfastly and said, u Sopuss,! shall know you ano- 
 ther time." He was surprised that the things or per- 
 sons he liked best, did not appear most agreeable to 
 his sight, expecting that what was most pleasing to 
 his other senses, would be so to his sight also. 
 
 " We thought he soon knew the nature of pictures, 
 but found afterwards we were mistaken ; for it was 
 two months after the operation, before he discovered 
 that they represented solid bodies. Even then he was 
 no le$s surprised, expecting they would feel like ths 
 things they represented. He was amazed, that those 
 parts, which by their light and shade appeared round 
 and uneven, should feel like the rest, tind asked which 
 was the lying sense feeling or seeing? Being shewn 
 his father's picture drawn in miniature, and told, what 
 it was, he acknowledged the likeness ; but asked,how 
 it could be, that so large a face should be contained 
 in so little room? Saying, it would have seemed as 
 impossible to him, as to put a bushel of any thing 
 into a pint. But even blindness, he observed, had this 
 advantage, that he could go any where in the dark> 
 better than those that could see. And after he was 
 couched, he did not lose it, but could go all about 
 the house without a light. Every new object gave 
 him new delight, such as he wanted words to express. 
 He was particularly delighted, when he first saw a 
 large prospect, and called it a new kind of see. 
 ing. Being afterwards couched in his other eye, he said 
 that objects appeared larger to this eye, though 
 not so large as they did to the other, when it was 
 newly couched. But looking on them with both 
 eyes, they seemed twice as large, as if he looked with 
 that only." 
 
 27. I would beg leave to propose a few queries 
 here to which I have not found a satisfactory answer. 
 
 1. Why do we see things false with one eye? Par* 
 tjcuiarJy with regard to their situation. 
 
44 
 
 2. How do the two eyes compound the rays of light ? 
 so as to see right ? 
 
 3. Why do we not see all things double ? 
 
 4. Since all things are painted upside down on the 
 bottom of the eye, why do we not see them so ? 
 
 28. We now proceed to the ear, formed withexqui- 
 slte wisdom, for the reception of sounds. The outward 
 ear consisting of an oval cartilage, externally convex, 
 concave within, leads by various windings to the mea- 
 tus auditorius, which is first cartilaginous, and then 
 bony. It is filled with a viscid matter, called the ear- 
 wax, which is supplied from the vessels placed in the 
 skin, surrounding the meatus,- to hinder any hurtful 
 animal from creeping into the ear. The mcatus is clos- 
 ed within by a thin, dry, transparent membrane, affixed 
 to a bony circle, which is called the membrana tym- 
 pani. Behind it is that cavity of the os petrosum, 
 "which is termed the drum. 
 
 The outward ear has two parts, that which stands 
 out from the head, called the auricle, and the narrow- 
 passage which enters the skull, called meatus auditorius. 
 
 The auricle is furrowed with divers winding canals, 
 which receive and collect the various undulations of 
 the air. They who have lost this, hear very confus- 
 edly, unless they use a trumpet, or form a cavity 
 round the hear, with their hands. 
 
 It is a wise provision that the substance of the aLv 
 ricle is cartilaginous. Had it been bone, it would 
 have been troublesome, and might by many accidents 
 have been broken off. If flesh, it would neither have 
 remained expanded, nor so well have received or 
 conveyed the sounds. Rather it would have blunted 
 them, and retarded their progress into the organ. But 
 tyeing hard, and curiously smooth and winding, sounds 
 find an easy passage with a regular refraction, as in a 
 well-built arch, 
 
 It is observable that in infants in the womb, and 
 newly-born, the meatus auditorius is close shut np, 
 partly by the construction of *the passage, and partly 
 
45 
 
 by a glutinous substance, whereby the drum is guard* 
 ed against the water in the secundine, and against the 
 injuries of the air, as soon as the infant is born. 
 
 It is remarkable, that in the ear of most, if not all 
 animals, where the meatus auditorius is long enough to 
 afford harbour to ear wigs, or other insects, ear-wax 
 is constantly to be found. But in birds, whose ears 
 are covered with feathers, and where the drum lies 
 but a little within the skull, no ear-wax is found, be- 
 cause none is necessary to the ears so well guarded, 
 and so little tunnelled. 
 
 29. In this, besides a little branch of nerves, there 
 are four little bones, two passages, and two windows. 
 Three of those bones, from some imagined resemblance, 
 are stiied the hammer, the anvil, and the staple : the 
 fourth is termed, the orbicular bone. These are 
 fastened by strong ligaments to each other, and to 
 the neighbouring parts. The passages go from the 
 side of the drum : one of which, termed the labyrinth, 
 by a very winding way, carries a part of the auditory 
 nerve to the external muscles of the head. The other 
 passes from the bottom of the drum to the palate ; 
 whereby not only air, if needful, may be received, 
 but the defect of hearing, in some measure supplied 
 by speaking to the mouth. 
 
 The labyrinth contains, besides the entrance, three 
 bony, semicircular cavities, and a bony canal, in the 
 form of a screw, divided into two parts, from the top 
 to the bottom. The labyrinth is lined throughout with 
 a thin membrane, furnished with veins, arteries and 
 nerves. And this membrane may not improbably be 
 the organ of hearing. 
 
 The curious structure of the labyrinth and screw, 
 tend to make the weakest sounds audible. Those 
 canals, by their winding, contain large portions of the 
 auditory nerve, upon every point of which, at once the 
 sound being impressed, becomes audible ; and by their 
 narrowness the sounds are hindered from dilating, 
 which must have weakened them proportionally.' 
 
46 
 
 The strength of the impression is likewise increased, 
 by the elasticity of the sides of the bony canal ; which 
 receiving the first impulses of the air. reverberate them 
 on the auditory neve. 
 
 The auditory nerves are distributed, one to the ear, 
 the other to the eye, tongue, and parts adjoining. By 
 the distribution thereof to different parts, an admira- 
 ble consent is established between them. Hence it is, 
 that most animals hearing a strange sound, erect their 
 ears to catch it, open their eyes, and are ready with 
 their mouth to shriek or call for help. A farther use 
 of this nervous communication between the ear and 
 the mouth is, that the voice may corespond with the 
 hearing, and be a kind of echo thereof : and that 
 what is heard with one of these nerves, may readily 
 be expressed by the help of the other. 
 
 And now what less than an infinitely wise God, 
 could contrive so fine an organ, and such a medium, 
 so susceptible of every impression, that the sense of 
 hearing hath occasion for, to empower all animals to 
 express their meaning to each other, with endless va- 
 riety ? Yea, w T hat less could form such an oeconomy 
 as that of music is ? So that the medium conveys the 
 melodious vibration of every animal voice or well, 
 tuned instrument, and the ear receives them, to 
 allay the perturbations, and calm and cheer the heart 
 of man! 
 
 Though the ear be the ordinary organ of hearing, 
 yet it is not the only one. We may hear by the 
 teeth. For if one end of a knife be applied to a spin, 
 net, and the other held between the teeth, the music 
 will be distinctly heard, though the ears be ever so 
 closely stopped. Yet this is not properly by the 
 teeth, but by the auditory nerve which passes from the 
 drum to the palate. 
 
 In those who are born deaf, .the eyes may in some 
 measure serve in the place of cars. Some can under- 
 stand what is said by nicely observing the lips and 
 tongue of the speaker : and may even accustom 
 themselves to use their own, till they learn a kind of 
 
47 
 
 speech. Thus a physician at Amsterdam taught se. 
 veral children born deaf, to understand what was said 
 and to giye pertinent answers. 
 
 Mr. Goddy's daughter of Geneva lost her hearing 
 at two years old. Yet by observing the lips of others, 
 she had acquired many words, whereby she would talk 
 whole days with those that could understand her. But. 
 she knew nothing of what was said, unless she saw the 
 mouth of the speaker: so that if they wanted to speak 
 to her in the night they were obliged to light a candle. 
 Only she knew what her sister said even in-the dark, 
 by laying her hand on her mouth. 
 
 But many deaf persons can hear, if a loud noisa be 
 made while you speak. Dr. Willis mentions one, who, 
 if a drum was beat in the room, could hear very clear- 
 ly. So that her husband hired a drummer for 
 his servant, and by that means conversed with her 
 daily. 
 
 30. The nostrils are made not of flesh or bone, but 
 of cartilage, the better to be kept open, and as occa- 
 sion requires, to be dilated or contracted ; for which 
 purpose they are furnished with proper and curious 
 muscles. The tub s therein growing narrower and 
 narrower, lead into several little cells and winding ca- 
 vities, covered with a soft coat, and provided with ar- 
 teries, veins, glands, and filaments of the olfactory 
 nerves. This, therefore, is without all doubt the pro- 
 per organ of smelling. 
 
 And forasmuch as it is by breathing, that the odo- 
 raut particles are drawn in. the lamina? with which 
 the upper part of the nose is barricaded, serve two ex- 
 cellent purposes ; partly to prevent any thing hurtful 
 from entering the breathing passages in our sleep (for 
 which end likewise the hairs placed at the entrance of 
 the nostrils serve) and partly to receive the divarica- 
 tions of the olfactory nerves, which are here thick 
 spread, and by this means meet the smells entering 
 with tUe breath. 
 
 Each of the cartilaginous lanihiiE is divided into 
 
48 
 
 many others, folded into a spiral line. The os cibro. 
 sum is made up of the extremities of these; the holes 
 therein being the intervals between them. They arc 
 designed to uphold the inner tunic of the nose, which is 
 folded round about together with these laminae, that 
 by its great expansion it may receive a greater num. 
 ber of the odorant particles. For the same reason, it 
 is furnished with many small glands, which open into 
 it, and moisten it with a slimy exudication, fitted to 
 entangle and detain the subtle effluvia that touch it. 
 And not only the number, but also the length of these 
 laminae, is of great use for the strength of smelling. 
 For this purpose most beasts, which either hunt, or 
 distinguish their food by smell, have not their nose in 
 the middle of their face, like a man, but prolonged to 
 the very end. 
 
 31. The tongue has for its basis that forked bone, 
 , called the os gutturis. It consists of various muscles in- 
 terwoven together, that it maybe fit for various kinds 
 of motion. To these are added very many small bran, 
 ches of nerves, which pass through the middle of it 
 to the outside, and being gathered into little bundles 
 constitute those papillae. which makes its surface rough 
 and uneven. Besides these, there appear also on the 
 surface of the tongue, certain pointed fibres, not un- 
 like the ends of birds claws, inclining towards the basis 
 of it, with which are interspersed innumerable salival 
 glands. And all these are in their several ways sub. 
 servient to the sense of tasting. 
 
 It has leen generally supposed, that the tongue is 
 essentially Decessary to the formation of speech. But 
 as sure as we have been of this, it is an entire mis. 
 take. A child in Essex, some years ago, had her 
 tongue entirely cut out, by reason' of an incurable 
 canker. She was then three years old. Twenty 
 years after ? it was reported, that she was able to speak. 
 To be satisfied hereof, Mr. Benjamia Boddington, 
 Turkey merchant of Ips>vich 3 with two other cn 
 
tlemen, went to Wickham Market, where the young 
 woman then lived, whose case they thus describe : 
 
 41 We have this day been at Wickham Market, to 
 satisfy ourselves concerning Margaret Catting. We 
 examined her mouth with the greatest exactness, but 
 found no part of the tongue remaining ; nor was there 
 any uvula. The passage down the throat is a cir- 
 cular open hole, large enough to admit a small nuU 
 meg. 
 
 u Notwithstanding this she swallowed both solids 
 and iluids as well as we could do, and in the same 
 manner. Yea, and she talked as fluently as other 
 persons do. She pronounced letters and syllables very 
 articulately, even those which seem necessarily to re- 
 quire the help of the tongue, as d, 1, t, w. She read 
 to us in a book distinctly ; she sings very prettily ; 
 nay, and she distinguishes tastes, and can tell the least 
 difference either in taste or smell." 
 
 * But is it possible to teach any one to speak, who 
 has been deaf and dumb from his birth ? 
 
 It is. Dr. Wallis taught such an one to speak, 
 Mr. Daniel Whaley of Northampton. He was pro. 
 sent before the Royal Society, May 21, 1662, and did 
 there pronounce, distinctly enough, such words as 
 the company proposed to him : indeed not altogether 
 with the usual tone, yet so as easily to be understood, 
 In a year, which was the time he staid with Dr. Wal- 
 lis, he read over great part of the English bible, and 
 learned to express himself intelligibly in common 
 affairs, to understand letters written to him, and to 
 answer them. And in the presence of many foreigners, 
 he has not only read English and Latin to them, but 
 has pronounced the most difficult words in their lan- 
 guages, which they could propose to him. 
 
 The doctor has since done the same for Mr, Alex- 
 ander Fopham, a gentleman of a fair estate. 
 
 But we have an instance of dumbness cured in a 
 
 fOL. I. 1} 
 
50 
 
 shorter time. Henry Axford, son of Henry Axford, 
 in the Devizes, at twenty-eight years of age, perceived 
 a hoarseness^and in about six days became quite speech- 
 less ; not only unable to speak articulately, but to 
 utter the least sound with his tongue. His cold went 
 off, but he remained absolutely speechless ; and the 
 advice of all the neighbouriug physicians did not help 
 him. 
 
 He continued totally dumb for four years, till in 
 July, 1741, being at Stoke, in returning homeward at 
 night, he fell from his horse, and was taken up and 
 put to bed in a house upon the road. He soon fell 
 asleep, and dreamed, he was fallen into a Tessel of 
 boiling wort. Struggling with all his might to call for 
 help, he actually did call aloud, and recovered the use 
 of his tongue from that mornent ; as perfectly as ever he 
 had it in his life. 
 
 Perhaps, therefore,there is truth in that ancient story, 
 concerning the son of king Creesus : namely, having 
 been dumb from his birth, he had never spoke at all, 
 till in the battle, seeing a man ready to kill his father, 
 his tongue was loosed, and he cried out aloud, " Sol* 
 dier, spare the king !" 
 
 The time of cutting the teeth is usually from the 
 seventh to the seventeenth month. It is commonly 
 preceded by an itching of the gums, and by convul- 
 sions, fevers, and looseness : most of which symptoms 
 happen to birds also, upon molting or casting their 
 feathers. The seed of the teeth is a -mucous matter, 
 like the white of an egg, contained in the cells of the 
 jaw-bone, which grows harder and bigger tiliit breaks 
 through the gum. 
 
 That part of the tooth which stands out of the gum, 
 is covered with a peculiar substance called enamel. It 
 is composed of an infinity of little tubes, which grow 
 on the bone by their root. If any part of this be 
 ^broken off, so that the bone is left bare, it grows 
 cari -us ; there being no bone which will bear the 
 air. 
 
 We may farther observe, 1. That the teeth only. 
 
51 
 
 of all the bones, grow in length during a man's whole 
 'life: which is providently designed, to repair the 
 waste that is continually miide by attrition : 2. That 
 the teeth are the only bones which are not covered 
 with that exquisitely sensible membrane, the perio- 
 steum : 3. That they are harder and firmer than any 
 other bone, that they may be more durable and fit ti> 
 chew the most solid aliments: 4. That for their nou- 
 rishment, there is a cavity contrived in each side of 
 the jaw-bone, in which are lodged an artery, a vein, 
 and a nerve, which through smaller cavities send their 
 twigs to e?ery tooth : 5. That as infants are designed 
 to liyeon milk, for some months, they are so long 
 without any teeth : whereas animals that need them, 
 have them sooner, and some are even born with them. 
 6. The different shape of the teeth is remarkable. 
 The fore- teeth are formed broad, and with a thin and 
 sharp edge, like chissels, to cut oif a morsel from any 
 solid food. The next, one on each side, are stronger, 
 deeper-rooted, and more pointed, to tear tougher ali- 
 ments : the rest are made flat and broad at top, and 
 withal, somewhat uneven, that thereby they may the 
 better retain, grind and mix the aliment. 7. Because 
 biting and chewing require much strength, partly in 
 the teeth themselves, partly in the instruments that 
 move the lower jaw r 5 which alone is moveable ; nature 
 has given it strong muscles, which make it bear forci- 
 bly against the upper jaw : and has not only fixed 
 each tooth in a distinct cavity, as in a close, strong 
 and deep socket, but has given holdfasts to the seve- 
 ral sorts of teeth, suitable to the stress that is to be 
 laid upon them. So whereas the cutters* and eye-teeth 
 have only one root, the grinders, designed tor harder 
 work, have three: in the upper jaw otten fonr, be- 
 cause they are pendulous, and the substance of the 
 jaw somewhat softer. 8. The situation of the teeth is 
 most convenient. The grinders are behind, near the 
 centre of motion, because chewing requires a consi- 
 derable force : the cutters before, ready for their easier 
 work. 
 
53 
 
 32. The Palate is of a bony substance, a little 
 concave, and clothed with a thick membrane, which 
 has the same kind of nervous papilla) and small glands, 
 that are seen in the surface of the tongue. And 
 hence it is qualified to assist the taste, as well as the 
 speech. 
 
 It would be endless to specify the curious mccha. 
 nism of all the parts that concur to form the voice. 
 However, let us note two things : 1. There are thir- 
 teen muscles provided for moving the five cartilages of 
 the wind- pipe. 2. It is amazing that the glottis, (the 
 upper part of the wind-pipe) can so exquisitely con. 
 tract or dilate itself, to form all notes. u Suppose 
 (says Dr. Keil) the greatest distance of the two sides of 
 the glottis to be one tenth of an inch, in sounding 
 twelve notes (to which the voice easily reaches) this 
 line must be divided into twelve parts, each of which 
 gives the aperture requisite for such a note. But if 
 we consider the subdivision of notes into which the 
 voicecan run, the motion of the sides of the glottis is 
 still vastly nicer : for if of two chords, sounding ex- 
 actly unisons, one be shortened but the two thousandth 
 part of its length., a just ear will perceive the disagree- 
 ment, and a good voice will sound the difference : and 
 yet this is only the one hundredth and ninety-sixth part 
 of a note. But suppose the voice can divide only 
 into a hundred parts, it follows, that the different 
 apertures of the glottis, actually divide the tenth part 
 of an inch, into twelve hundred parts, the effect of 
 each of which produces a sensible alteration upon a 
 good ear." 
 
 33. The Uvula is a round, oblong,fteshy substance, 
 suspended near tht passage from the mouth into the 
 nostrils, and probably designed to hinder the cold air, 
 from rushing too fast into the lungs, as well as to 
 prevent the food we swallow from regurgitating into 
 the nostrils. 
 
 The Tonsils, or almonds of the ear, arc two small 
 
glands, placed at the root of the tongue, which sup- 
 ply an humour, to keep the mouth and the tongue 
 6ntinually moist. 
 
 The Wind pipe is wonderful in Hs conformation : 
 because continual respiration is necessary, it is made 
 with annular cartilages, to keep it constantly open, 
 that its sidles may not fall together : and lest, when we 
 swallow, any particle of food should fall in, which 
 might cause convulsions, or even death, it has a strong 
 shutter, or lid, called the epiglottis, which, whenever 
 we eat or drink, falls down of itself, and covers it 
 close, so that no crumb or drop can enter. It is for 
 the more convenient bending of our necks, that the 
 wind. pipe is not made of one entire continued carti- 
 lage, but of many circular ones. 
 
 What is farther remarkable in these cartilages is, 
 that all the way where they are contiguous to the gul- 
 let, they are membranous, to give an easy passage to 
 the food : but after that, they are, some completely 
 round, some triangular. Another thing observable is, 
 in the wind. pipe, the cartilages run parallel to each 
 other: but, in the lungs, the lower parts of the siu 
 perior cartilages receive the upper parts of the infe- 
 rior : hereby enabling them to contract themselves in 
 expiration^ arid to dilate in inspiration. 
 
 34. The Hairs are all hollow. The root of each hair 
 is fixed in a mucous globule, of an oval figure, which 
 often adheres to it, when it is pulled up by the root* 
 They are jointed like a reed or cane, and shoot out 
 into smajl branches. They serve not only for a co- 
 vering, but also for the excretion and expiration of ap 
 oily matter. 
 
 Every hair does properly live, and receive nourish* 
 ment like the other parts. The roots do not turn 
 white or grey in age, any sooner than the extremes. 
 But the whole of each hair changes colour at once. Or 
 (to speak more properly) the hairs of another colour 
 fall off, and white ones grow in their place. 
 
 But extreme fear may turn the hair gr'ey, or e?en 
 D 3 
 
54 
 
 a short ?pace So it was in that famous in*= 
 stance some years ago, A nobleman in Germany, 
 was condemned to die, and ordered for execution in 
 the morning. Daring the night, in ten or twelve hours 
 time, all his hair turned white as flax. The emperor 
 being informed of this, said, "he has suffered enough:" 
 and pardoned him. 
 
 Since that time, there has been an instance of one 
 of our own countrymen, who being shipwrecked, 
 saved himself on a small rock, surrounded by the sea. 
 A boat took him oif after he had stayed there four 
 hours. But ua that space his hair was turned quite 
 white. 
 
 Perhaps a still stranger instance of this kind is 
 related in the duke of Sully's memoirs. u Henry IV. 
 told the marquis de la Force, that the moment he was 
 informed Henry 111. had published an edict, (in 
 July, 1585) ordering all the Hugonots cither to go to 
 mass, or to abandon the kingdom in six months, his 
 mustaches turned suddenly white on that side of his 
 face, which he supported with his hand." 
 
 Its Hie is a peculiar kind, and approaches to the 
 nature of vegetation. Hairs grow much as plants 
 grow out of the earth, or as some plants grow upon 
 others : from which they draw their nourishment, 
 and yet each has its life distinct from the other. So 
 hair derives its food from some juices in the body ; 
 l)ut not from the nutritious juices, Accordingly the 
 hair may lire and grow, while the body is starved to 
 death. 
 
 That hair may grow merely as an excrescence of 
 the vegetable kind, appears from that memorable case 
 recited by Mr. Hook, of a body which, having been 
 buried forty-three years, was found in a manner wholly 
 concerted into hair. The woman was buried in a 
 coffin of wood, and lay the lowest of three in the 
 same grave. The others, being removed, and this 
 coffin appearing,*it was observed that much hair came 
 through the clefts of it: on removing the lid, the 
 whole appeared a very surprizing sight. There wa? 
 
the whole figure of the corpse, exhibiting the eyes, 
 mouth, ears, and every part. But from the very 
 crown of the head, even to the sole of the foot, it was 
 covered over with a very thick set hair ; long, and 
 much curled. The people, amazed at this appearance, 
 went to touch the corpse. But the shape fell away, 
 as it was handled, leaving only a quantity of shape- 
 less hair ; but neither flesh nor bones, only a small 
 part of the great toe of the right foot. 
 
 Each hair consists of several smaller ones, wrapt 
 up in one common covering. They send out bran- 
 ches at the joints. The root lies pretty deep in the 
 skin : and by this they imbibe their proper nou 
 rishment, from the adjacent humours. Their extremes 
 also split into two or three branches, especially if they 
 are very dry, or too long. So that what appears a 
 single hair to the naked rye, to the microscope ap- 
 pears a brush. They are grey on the foivparfc of the 
 head first, particularly about the temples : the back 
 part affords them nourishment longer. For the same 
 reason they fall from the crown of the head first. Their 
 thickness depends on the size of the pores they issue 
 from : if these are small, the hair is fine. If the pores 
 be strait, the hairs are strait 5 if oblique or sinuous^ 
 the hairs are curled. 
 
 All hairs appear round. But the microscope dis- 
 covers some of them to be square, others triangular ; 
 which diversity of figures arise merely from the diver- 
 sity of the pores. Their length depends on the quan- 
 tity of humours proper to feed them, and their colour 
 on the quality. And hence the colour usually diilcrs 
 in the different stages of life, 
 
 The hair of a mouse is a transparent tube, with a 
 pith of smalMibres convolved, running in some hairs 
 spirally, in some transversely, in others from top to 
 bottom. 
 
 The Nails are of the nature and fabric of the cuticle, 
 like which they are also insensible, and renewable, 
 after being cut or fallen off. They are placed 
 
56 
 
 tf poii the backs of the ends of the lingers and toes, 
 which they support to make a due resistance in the 
 apprehension of objects, having the nervous papillary 
 bodies, that serve the organ of touch, placed under 
 their lower surface. They arise with a square root, 
 intermixed \\ilh the periosteum, a little before the last 
 joints, from betwixt the outer and inner stratum of 
 the skin, and passing on soft, go out by a lunar cleft 
 in- the external plate of the skin, where the cuticle 
 returns back, and enters into a close adhesion with 
 the root of the nail, together with which it is extended 
 as an outer covering. 
 
 35, We proceed^ the middle cavity of the body. 
 Herein the principal part is the Heart, consisting of a 
 vStrong tei.don, extended obliquely from the basis or 
 broader part, to the cone, into which the fleshy fibres 
 are inserted, in an elegant scries, with a spiral bending 
 one half opposite to, and crossing the, other : by which 
 means the grand muscle is admirably fitted both to re. 
 fdve and to propel the blood. It has two great 
 cavithsj usually termed the ventricles of the heart 
 They are divided from each other by an intermediate 
 part, called the septum, constituted by the same fibres, 
 which is convex on the side next the right ventricle, 
 and concavn on the other. 'JPhe vena cava is inserted 
 in the right ventricle, and two inches from its inser. 
 tion, divides into the upper and lower. The, former 
 brings the blood into it from the upper ; the latter, 
 from the lower parts of the body. The pulmonary 
 artery carries the blood from that ventricle into the 
 lungs, which the pulmonary vein brings from thenc& 
 into the left ventricle. At the upper side of these 
 veins, there is added to each ventricle, a kind of purse 
 called the auricle, which is a hollow muscle of the 
 same structure with the heart, in order to stay the 
 blood, that it pour not too violently into the ventricle. 
 Before the orifices of the veins of the heart, there are 
 triangular valves, and semilunar in the orifices of 
 the arteries, to hinder the reflux of the blood from 
 
. 57 
 
 the ventricles fnto the veins, and from the arteries 
 into the ventricles, In a healthy person, the heart 
 contracts little less than five thousand times in an. 
 hour. 
 
 36. The Heart is covered with a fine membrane; 
 and near the base of it, on the outside, there is a little 
 fat, probably designed to facilitate its motion. It is 
 placed near the middle of the breast t only its cone 
 inclines a little to the Lett. It hangs by its base on 
 vein sand arteries, communicating with all parts of the 
 body. The other part of it is loose in the pericar- 
 dium, that it may be the more commodiously constring- 
 ed arid dilated. The pericardium is a kind of raenv 
 brane that like a kind of purse, loosely incloses the 
 heart. The shape of it is suited to that of the heart^ 
 and it contains a thin, saltish, reddish huinour,exuding 
 from the arteries. 
 
 The brain has an alternate contraction and dilation, 
 answering those of the hi-art. It is highly probable, 
 the weight of the atmosphere is the counterpoise to 
 the contractile force of the heart. That of the brain, 
 being not near so strong, does not need so strong a 
 Counterpoise. * 
 
 In the basis of the heart, in some animals, there is 
 a bone frequently found. Such an one was found in 
 the heart of Pope Urban. Probably it was only the 
 tendons of the heart ossified. 
 
 Wounds of the heart are not always so immediately 
 mortal as is generally supposed. A soldier w r as brought 
 into one of the hospitals in Paris, with a wound in the 
 upper part of the left breast. He seemed very well 
 for three days : but on the fourth was taken with a 
 fever and difficulty of breathing, and died on the 
 tentl). On opening the body, it was found the sword 
 had pierced the pericardium, traversed the right ven. 
 tricle of the heart in its lower part, pierced the peri- 
 cardium on the opposite side, and gone through the 
 diaphragm, and an inch deep into the liver. 
 
 5 
 
58 
 
 37. The heart is placed in the middle of the lungs, 
 which consist of two parts, the right and left lobe. 
 Each of these is divided into two other lobes ; one of 
 these frequently into three, sometimes into four, by 
 fissures, sometimes deeper, sometimes shallower, run. 
 ning from the interior margin towards the back part. 
 The lungs are divided into cells, -which are no other 
 than expansions of the small branches of the trachea 
 *>r wind pipe. And there is an easy passage from 
 one branch into many cells, and again into it from 
 them all. The upper part of the trachea opens into 
 the mouth ; the lower, divided into two branches, 
 shoots out into various ramifications, which are termed 
 bronchia. And these little canals running on, consti- 
 tute the lungs, whose cells are wonderfully connected 
 together, and intermixed with numberless branches of 
 veins and arteries. 
 
 The upper end of the trachea is called the larynx. 
 At the fourth vertebra of the back, it divides and en. 
 ters the lungs. Its cartilages, ranged at small and 
 equal distances, are smaller and smaller as they ap- 
 proach the lungs. 
 
 These cartilages have two membranes. The exter- 
 nal, composed of circular fibres, covers 'the whole 
 trachea. That which lines it within, consists of three 
 distinct membranes, the first woven of two orders of 
 fibres, part longitudinal, to shorten it by drawing the 
 cartilages together : part circular, to contract them. 
 Both these, \< Aether with the external membrane, 
 assist in breath, ng, coughing, and varying the tone of 
 voice. The second membrane is glaudulous ; and its 
 glands opening into the cavity of the trachea, separate 
 a liquor which moistens and defends it from the acri- 
 mony of the air. The third is a net- work of nerves, 
 veins, and arteries. 
 
 The organs which form the voice of man, have not 
 been accurately observed by the ancients. As the 
 trachea bears some resemblance to a liute, they con- 
 sidercdtiic voice, according to the sounds of that in- 
 
59 
 
 strument, Mr. Dodart was the first who shewed the 
 glottis to be the chief organ in producing it, and con- 
 sidered it bjth as a string and wind instrumentj far 
 more perfect than any which art can produce. 
 
 The organs which form the various voices of other 
 animals, are likewise worthy of our attention. Those 
 of each species have peculiar sounds, whereby they 
 understand each other. Wherein do these organs re- 
 semble ours ? and wherein do they differ ? 
 
 The human voice is almost wholly formed by the 
 glottis, and various tunes are produced by the various 
 modifications of it. But all these depend on one only; 
 tbe separation and junction of its lips. This compre- 
 hends two circumstances, the one capital and primi- 
 tive, the other, a consequence of it. The first is, 
 That the lips are more and more bent, from the 
 lowest to the highest note. The second, That the 
 more they bend, the nearer they draw to each other. 
 It follows from the first, that their vibrations will 
 be more frequent, as they come nearer the highest 
 tone, and that the voice will be exact when they are 
 equaily bent, and the reverse when unequally : which 
 corresponds perfectly well with the nature of stringed 
 instruments. It follows from the second, that the 
 higher the tone, the nearer they draw to each other. 
 And this agrees perfectly with those wind-instruments' 
 which are governed by reeds. From these simple, and 
 almost imperceptible variations, proceeds the infinite 
 variety of sounds. 
 
 In most quadrupeds too the glottis is the principal 
 organ of the voice. So it is in cats, sheep, and several 
 others. But many have something more than a glot- 
 tis. As horses, asses, mules, and swine;. Some of 
 these have also a tendinous membrane, which concurs 
 in forming the voice. Others have several membranes: 
 others a kind of bags, which in some are membra- 
 nous and in others bony. Others have both mem brines 
 and bags. Others, lastly, have in -their larynx a kind 
 of cavity or drum, which assists them in, uttering very 
 strong and long continued notes. ~ 
 D 6 
 
60 
 
 All sounds are produced by a swift succession of 
 vibrations, from (he particles of sonorous bodies 
 which agitate the air. But the vibrations of the lips of 
 the glottis would not suffice to produce the neighing of 
 a horse. This begins by more or less acute interrupted 
 tones, accompanied by quaverings, and ends by tones 
 more or less grave, which is performed by jirks. This 
 second part is done by the lips of the glottis : the 
 other chiefly by a small, elastic membrane. This is 
 tendinous, very thin, of a triangular figure, and lies 
 flat on each extremity of th6 lips of the glottis. As it 
 adheres but loosely to these, it can easily flutter up 
 and down : and it is the play o/ the membrane up 
 and down, which produces the acute sounds of neigh-* 
 ing. These are more or less acute, as the membrane 
 is more or less thin, and its adhesion more or less 
 slack. The grave sounds that conclude the neighing, 
 are excited by the flutterings of the thick strings ; 
 which form the lips of the glottis. 
 
 The hoarse sound of the ass's voice is not so much 
 produced by the lips of the glottis, as by a tendinous 
 part which adheres loosely on the aperture of a kind 
 of drum, situate under the extremity of the lips of the 
 glottis : above which are also found two large and 
 thick bags ; one on the right, the other on the left. 
 Each of these has a roundish aperture, cut much like 
 (he stopple of an organ. 
 
 Such are the organs which form this amazing sound, 
 A kind of drum is the principal : and the two 
 bags above the lips of the glottis, are the main auxilia- 
 ries : while thos/e- lips, as plain experiment shew, con. 
 tribufevery little thereto. The mule's vaice much resem- 
 bles that of liis sire, and is formed by much the same 
 organs ; the drum of so singular a composition, being 
 found in mules also. 
 
 There is another animal which affords us a particu- 
 lar disposition of the vocal organs. This is the hog : 
 whose shrill cries are more insupportable than his usual 
 grunting. Yet neither are these excited by the lips 
 of the glottis, bu* by the fluttering oi' t\vo large mem* 
 
branous bags ; situated on each side, above the Hpsr 
 of the glottis. What is remarkable is, that each lid 
 is cloven almost its whole length. By this cleft each 
 lip has a communication with the bag belonging to it. 
 And the motions of these bags produce most of the 
 sounds peculiar to this animal. 
 
 Though the voice of birds bears a nearer resemblance 
 to ours, than that of a quadruped's, yet their organs 
 have far less resemblance to ours, and contain a greater 
 number of singularities. They, like us, have a glottis 
 at the top of the trachea ; but they have another at 
 the bottom of it, which much contributes both to the 
 strengthening and modifying of (heir voice. These have 
 different membranes, more or less fine, more or less 
 bent, and in a variety of positions. In some birds, 
 as in geese, there are four of these, figured and disposed 
 like the reeds in hautboys. 
 
 With regard to the human vtfice, an ingenious man 
 observes, " sitting in. company, I chanced to take 
 notice, that in ordinary discourse, all that is spoke, is 
 spoken in perfect notes ; and that some of the com- 
 pany used eighths, some fifths,and others thirds. 1 ob. 
 served likewise of him whose speech, vras the most 
 pleasing, that all the tones he used, consisted either 
 of concords, or of such discords as made up harmony." 
 Cutting the trachea was long reputed mortal ; but 
 \t is now usual to opeji it in dangerous quinsies. This 
 physicians were at .tirst encouraged to do, from the 
 case of a Cornish gentleman, who had hLs wind. pipe 
 quite cut through, and yet was cured and lived several 
 years after. 
 
 38. In order to the admission and expulsion of the 
 air by the lungs, it is necessary the breast should be 
 contracted and dilated. This end is served by the 
 bony part of the Thorax, the intercostal muscles, and 
 the diaphragm, a broad, muscular part, reaching across 
 the breast, and dividing the middle from the lower ca- 
 vity. It runs obliquely from the sternou and ribs be- 
 fore to the vertebrae of theloins behind. 
 
63. 
 
 39. The whole thorax is covered on the inside with 
 a firm, whifc membrane, called the pleura. It is dou- 
 ble throughout, consisting of two folds : the inner- 
 most whereof has a smooth surface, that it may not 
 hurt the tender substance of the lungs ; the surface of 
 the outer is rough and uneven. From the pleura rises 
 the mediastinum, which is a double membrane, that 
 divides the lungs and the cavity of the thorax length. 
 ways into two parts. 
 
 40. On the slightest observation we cannot but ac- 
 knowledge the consummate wisdom, wherewith the 
 external parts of the middle cavity are formed, for 
 beauty, as well as for the defence of the internal. 
 This is commodiously connected with the head, by the 
 neck. The breast, or fore part of (he thorax, which 
 begins at the throat, and en<is at the sternon, or bi east- 
 bone, is an admirable guard to (he noblest parts. To 
 the same end serve the shoulder-blades and the back- 
 bone, as well as to support the whole fabric. 
 
 The breasts consist of numberless oval glands, in. 
 ter mixed \\ith globular vessels of fat. Their ducts, 
 as they approach the nipple, unite together, till ' they 
 form eight or more sriial! pipes, communicating with 
 each other by cross canals, which are of great use, 
 when some of them happen to be obstructed. These 
 tubes are in some parts narrower, in some wider, so as 
 to form cells, which hinder the efflux of the milk. The 
 paps consist chiefly of the concurrence of these tubes, 
 but with a glandi.lous substance intermixed. There 
 are likewise joined herewith abundance of fibres, from 
 the external teguments of the breasts, by means of 
 which the tubes are constringed, and the motion of 
 the milk is modified. 
 
 In virgins, the glands of the breasts are so contract- 
 ed, that no blood can enter them. Hut when the 
 womb swells with the foetus, and compresses the de- 
 scending trunk of the great artery, the blood forces its 
 way into them. They admit thicker and thicker 
 serum, till after the birth ? they run with a thick 
 milk. 
 
63 
 
 It is more difficult to account for the milk, which 
 some men have in considerable plenty. Thus in the 
 year 1684, a countryman, called Billardino di Billo, 
 living in a village near Nocaera, in Umbria, when his 
 wife was dead, took the child, and put the nipples 
 of his breasts into its mouth, invited it to suck, which 
 the infant did, and after several times drawing, fetched 
 some milk. After awhile it brought down the milk so 
 plentifully, as to nourish it for many months till it 
 was weaned. 
 
 Almost as strange is the following account: One 
 informing me of an old woman that gave suck, I went 
 to the house in Tottenharn-court-road. Her name is 
 Elizabeth Bryan. She is in the 68th year of her age, 
 and h=as not borne a child for many years : her face 
 is withered, her cheeks and mouth sunk in : but her 
 breasts are full, fair, and void of wrinkles. About 
 four years ago, her daughter was obliged to leave an 
 infant she gave suck to, in the care of her mother. The 
 old woman finding the child froward for want of the 
 breast, applied it to her own. Having done this se- 
 veral times, her son thought the child seemed to swal- 
 low, and begged his mother he might try, if she had 
 not milk. It soon appeared she had, and she then 
 continued to suckle the child in earnest. Two years 
 after, her daughter had another child, on which the 
 grandmother weaned the first, and .suckled the se- 
 cond. Both the children are healthy, plump, and 
 firm in flesh, and as brisk and lively as can be de- 
 sired." 
 
 41. In the lower cavity first occurs the Stomach, 
 with the oesophagus or gullet, which reaches to it from 
 the mouth. The Tight orifice, called the pylorus, 
 transmits the digested food to the intestines. It is 
 narrower than the other, as being designed to trans- 
 mit nothing, ti\i it is reduced to a kind of liquid. 
 And it goes by a long and oblique descent into the 
 duodenum, that the ch) le may not pass out ; either 
 too swiftly or too slowly. 
 
64 
 
 The upper opening of the stomach, is compressed 
 in such a manner, by the lower muscle of the dia- 
 phragm, in every inspiration, as to confine the food 
 within the stomach, and direct it^in every respiration, 
 towards the pylorus. By this means this orifice of 
 the stomach, is so closely shut, as to confine even 
 Mind or \apours within the cavity of a healthy sta- 
 rnacTi, from whence they never escape but by a morbid 
 affection. 
 
 The fabric of the stomach answers to that of the 
 oesophagus, of which it is an expansion. (1) The 
 outmost coat is from the peritoneum,. of considerable 
 strength, so as to limit the extension of the rest, and 
 afford a support-to the subjacent muscular fibres. (2) 
 The cellular coat lies immediately under the former, 
 whence the outer and muscular tunic closely cohere 
 together, in this substance (he larger branches of 
 the vessels are distributed. Next in order appears 
 (3) the muscular coat. Here, the longitudinal fibres 
 of the oesophagus, corning to the stomach are detach- 
 ed one from another. in all direction's. 
 
 Immediately under the muscular fibres, follows (4) 
 another cellular stratum, larger than the outermost,, 
 softer, more easy inilatil>le,and consisting of larger ve- 
 sicles than what we usually observe, even in tKe In- 
 testines. Within this cellular substance are spread 
 the small vessels, which, corning from the larger 
 branches of the stomach, enter through its muscular 
 coat, and spread internally after the manner of a- 
 plexus. Under this lies, (5) the nervous coat, which; 
 is thick, white, and firm, and makes up the true sub. 
 stance of the stomach itself, and this is again lined 
 internally with a third cellular stratum, whose vascu- 
 lar net-work is much more minute than that of the 
 former, from whence it is derived. Immediately with. 
 io this, lies (6) the villous or velvet-like coat, that 
 lines the cavity of the stomach itself, contiguous witk 
 the external cuticle, like which it is renewable, but of 
 a soft mucous texture, and extended iutoa very short 
 
65 
 
 pile, like that of the tongue, only less conspicuous, 
 and folded into large plates. 
 
 42. The Intestines are a continuation of the all. 
 nientary tube from the pylorus, wound together in va- 
 rious wreaths, yet without confusion, and to keep 
 them in their situation, fastened together by the me- 
 sentery, a strong membrane, which fastens them also 
 to the back. The intestinal duct is really but one ; 
 but because the parts of it differ in figure and use, the 
 upper part of it, divided into the duodenum, jejunum 
 and ileum, is termed the small-guts ; the lower part, 
 divided into the ccecum, colon, and rectum, is called 
 the great guts. All these are full of turnings and 
 windings, especially the small, that the more subtle 
 part of the chyle, both through the length and nar- 
 rowness of the passage, anil the agitation of the in- 
 testines, may enter the lacteal veins, and pass from 
 thence into the receptacle of the chyle. 
 
 When the intestines are separated from the mesen- 
 tery, they are usually six times as long as the mau. 
 They have all a kind of vermicular motion, called the 
 peristaltic motion from the stomach downwards ; and 
 are lubricated with much fat, especially the great ones, 
 whose surface being more uneven, and their contents 
 less fluid, they need somewhat more to make them 
 slide easily. 
 
 Likewise from the exhaling arteries distils a thin, 
 watry liquor into the cavity of the intestines not at 
 all acid, but like the juice of the stomach ; the quan- 
 tity of which liquor may be computed from the 
 large extent of all the excretory orifices, and from the 
 section of the secretory artery, a larger than which 
 we see ; no where in the body. 
 
 The Duodenum, (so called because it is usually ten 
 or tweJve inches long), receives the gall and pan- 
 creatic juice, which are here mixed with the chyle. 
 The jejunum is so termed, because it is generally more 
 epipty than the rest. This may be occasioned partly 
 by its capacity, which gives a free passage to its 
 
66 
 
 contents, partly to its irritation through the bile, 
 which falls in a little above it. It takes up almost 
 the whole umbilical region, and is usually twelve or 
 thirteen hands long. The ileum, situate below the 
 navel, fills the ilia with its numerous convolutions. It 
 is much the longest of the intestines, generally one 
 and twenty hands long. In both this and the jejunum 
 the inner coat is much wrinkled, and lies in loose 
 folds. They are formed (as the folds in the stomach) 
 only by the inner coat being larger than the outer. 
 
 The first of the great guts, called the caecum, is li- 
 terally inserted at the upper end of the colon. It 
 is not perforated at the other end, but hangs to it 
 like the finger of a glove, and is three or four inches 
 long. Jn new-born children, and in beasts, it is 
 found full of excrements, but in adults it frequently 
 hangs like a worm. In a foetus it is doubtless are- 
 ceptacle of the fasces, during the time it does not dis- 
 charge by stool. And may it not occasionally serve 
 the same end in adults ? Perhaps in those animals 
 wherein it is very largest may likewise serve as a kind 
 of second stomach. But it is not absolutely necessary. 
 Theccecum of a dog has been cut out, without any 
 p Tceivable prejudice. 
 
 The colon is the largest of the great guts. It runs 
 into various circumvolutions from the cot cum to the 
 rectum. It has many cavities, formed by two liga. 
 nients, running on each side of it, opposite to 
 each other the whole length, and as it were guiding 
 it at certain distances. The rectum, which reaches 
 from the os sacrum to the anus, is usually about a 
 hand and a half long. 
 
 43. The Lacteal Veitis,which are of a whitish colour, 
 are in all the intestines, small and great, and receive 
 the chyle by imperceptible passages, throughout the 
 whole canal. And for this end the food remains so 
 long in the intestines, and is carried through various 
 windings, that whatsoever of nourishment it contains 
 may be expressed belbre.it leaves the body. 
 
67 
 
 44. The Intestines are covered with the omen turn 
 or cawl, which is contained within the peritoneum, a 
 very thin, soft, double membrane, and wholly consists 
 of little bags of fat. Its use is to keep the intestines 
 warm, to promote their peristaltic motion by lubri- 
 cating them with its oily substance, by following them 
 in their, doublings and windings, to serve them as a 
 bolster to slide upon, and by filling up their hollows, 
 to prevent their being too much distended by iiatu- 
 lencics; yet giving way to them when filled with all* 
 ments. 
 
 Under the stomach behind lies the pancreas, (ex. 
 tended towards the spleen) which transmits to the in- 
 testines a liquor of the nature of spittle, helping to 
 dissolve the food. 
 
 45. Under the diaphragm on the right side, lies 
 the Liver, whence it extends over tiie right part of the 
 stomach, below the sternum, toward the left,. growing 
 gradually smaller, that it may not hinder the (listen, 
 tion of the stomach. It consists partly of gall-ducts, 
 partly of fine ramifications of the veua porta. . The 
 blood contained in these, deposits oily particles in the 
 ducts, and then returns, chiefly through the vena 
 cava, to the heart. It is thus the bile is secreted, 
 for which purpose the gall-bladder also is designed. 
 This both receives and retails the bile, by which delay 
 the power of it is greatly heightened. Part of the 
 bile is conveyed to the intestines by the hepatic duct 
 which pours it into the ductus choleJochus. Part 
 goes first into the gall-bladder, thence into the ductus 
 choledocus, and then into the duodenum. 
 
 The principal use of the bile is to absterge and sti- 
 mulate the intestines, to assimilate crude things to 
 things concocted, to bruise and blunt sharp and saline 
 particles, to divide those that are coagulated ; to ex. 
 cite appetite, to open the passages for th& chyle, 
 and where need is, act the part of a ferment. 
 
 46. The Spleen is an elegant net-work of number- 
 
68 
 
 less vessels, enclosed hi a double membrane; it is 
 placed on the left side, between the sltort ribs and 
 the stomach. Some suppose it to secrete a peculiar 
 juice, which passes with the blood through the vena 
 porta. Others imagine it to be a kind of reservoir, 
 wherein on extraordinary occasions, that blood may 
 be received, which would otherwise oppress the viscera 
 uud disturb the animal functions. 
 
 47. On the muscles of the loins on each side lie 
 the Kidneys, to separate from the blood that part of 
 the serum which is superfluous, and would be hurtful 
 were it retained in the habit. This is carried by the 
 ureters into the bladder,which is placed in the lowest 
 part of the belly. What remains of the blood is con 
 veyed to the heart by the veins and lymphatic vessels. 
 
 The bladder is composed of three coats, the first is 
 an extension of the peritoneum ; the second consists 
 of muscular fibres ; the third is both glanduious and 
 nervous, and full of wrinkles, that it may be capable 
 of contraction and dilatation. Its glands separate a 
 slimy matter, which defends the bladder from the 
 acrimony of the urine. The involuntary emission of 
 this is prevented by a small vessel which goes round 
 the neck of the bladder. 
 
 48. We proceed to 'the limbs. The hand (physi- 
 cally speaking) is divided into the arm, (he cubit, 
 and the hand, properly so called. In this there are 
 twelve l)ones, besides fifteen in the fingers, all oblong, 
 slender, hollow, and so fitly joined together by liga- 
 ments, so wonderfully provided with various muscles, 
 adapted to so many different motions, that the hand 
 alone gives us an abundant argument of the admirable 
 wisdom of God. 
 
 Is there any possibility that the vant of so neces* 
 sary an instrument as the arm should be supplied? One 
 would think it impossible. But it is not : such is the 
 amazing power of God ! James WftJker was born in 
 
69 
 
 1718, in Ireland, in the parish of Hillsborough. His 
 mother could not be delivered till th'e surgeon totally 
 separated the arms of the child from the body. Ne- 
 vertheless he lived, and in the room of his arms, had 
 little protuberances that appeared as stumps. He 
 grew to be six feet high, slender, and active. u He 
 sits a saddle, says an eye-witness, upright and firm, 
 will ride 40 miles a day to a fair, and deals in buying 
 and selling horses,which he dresses and curries as well 
 as any groom can do, holding the curry-comb between 
 his chin and shoulders. The same way he holds the 
 goad in driving the plow, and the spade when he 
 digs. He throws a stone from the top of his foot 
 with greater force than most men can with their 
 hand, and seldom fails to hit his mark. He mounts 
 a horse without any assistance, and shuffling the bri- 
 dle over his head, till he gets it on his shoulders, guid- 
 ing his horse with as little fear, and as much skill as 
 any man." 
 
 49. The Thigh consists of one bone, the largest and 
 longest in the whole body. It is a little crooked, 
 bending forward before, that there may be more room 
 for the muscles. The bones of the leg are two, distant 
 from each other in the middle, but joined together at 
 each end. They are nearly of the same length, but 
 the inner is much thicker than the outer. The bones 
 of the foot are twelve, beside fourteen in the toes' 
 which like those in the hands, are most aptly con- 
 nected by ligaments, and fitted with muscles of various 
 kinds, serving for equally various motions. 
 
 50. Thus far we have spoken concerning the solid 
 parts of the body. Among the fluid are usually reck, 
 oned the animal spirits, supposed to be secreted in, 
 the brain, to flow through the nerves, and to be the in. 
 strumcnts of sense and motion. 
 
 " But are the uerves in general hollow canals, 
 which contain a circulating tiuid ? Or are they solid 
 threads, which being highly elastic, vibrate variously 
 
70 
 
 to occasion various sensations ?" The latter suppo- 
 M r ion is wholly overthrown by the phenomena of 
 wounded nerves. A nerve cut asunder, does not re- 
 tract its divided extremities, but becomes rather Ion- 
 ger,extruding its medulla into around tubercle. Again, 
 were it elastic, it should be composed of hard fibres, 
 having their extremities fixed to soine firm bodies : 
 since strings, otherwise constituted and disposed^ 
 have no elasticity. But it is evident all nerves are 
 soft at their origin, as well as void of tension, and 
 some soft in every part, as the olfactory nerve, and 
 the soft portion of the auditory nerve. Yea, they 
 all grow soft in the viscera, the muscles, and the sen- 
 sories, before they exert their functions. Besides, 
 some nerves are so situate, that they cannot vibrate, 
 as those of the heart, which are fastened to the great 
 vessels and the pericardium. Further, the influence 
 of an irritated nerve is never propagated upwards; 
 whereas an elastic chord communicates its tremors to 
 both ends from the point of percussion. Hence it is 
 plain the nerves do not act by their spring, but by 
 the motion of their proper fluid. The extreme small- 
 ness of these canals, which no microscope can reach, 
 is no valid objection to this, neither our inability to 
 discern tliat fluid. This only proves the imperfection 
 of our senses. 
 
 " But what is this fluid?" Who can tell? We 
 may very probably conjecture, it cousists of some 
 subtle fire or ether, diffused through the whole sys- 
 tem of nature, and acting by laws unknown to us. 
 
 51. Of the other fluids, some serve to prepare the 
 diyle, some to thin .the blood and preserve it from 
 putrefaction. Others only remain till they can be 
 thrown out of the body, as being useless and super, 
 fluous. All of these, but the chyle, arise from the 
 blood, being secreted from it by proper glands. But 
 as to the manner of secretion, after all the most ac- 
 curate and laborious enquiries, it still remains aoso- 
 lutely uncertain, and every oce abounds in his own 
 
71 
 
 sense. Some beiiere it depends on the suitableness of 
 the fluid secerned, to the shape of the secerning 
 pores. Some lay the stress rather on the various 
 size and diameters of those pores : others on this, that 
 the constituent particles, suppose of the bile, froni 
 their peculiar proportion, texture, and figure, may be 
 more easily united to each other, than to the particles 
 of lymph, or any other (hud. 
 
 52. The chief of all the fluids in our body, and the 
 fountain of life, is the Blood. It consists of a watry 
 serum, fibrous particles, and red globules, which 
 last are scarce a twelfth part of it. It is generated 
 thus. The meat and drink being digested into chyle, 
 pass from the intestines, through the lacteal veins and 
 the thoracic duct, into the left subclavian. vein, and 
 thence into the vena cava, where it mixes with the 
 blood ? and then circulates with it, till it is wholly 
 assimilated. 
 
 Blood, fresh drawn, appears to the naked eye, uni- 
 form and homogenous. But when cold, it separates 
 into two parts ; the one red and fibrous which clots 
 together ; the other thin and transparent, called the 
 serum, in which the former swims. The serum is in 
 bulk three fourths of the blood; in weight fifteen 
 seventeenths. 
 
 A red globule is computed to be 25,000 times 
 smaller than the smallest grain of sand. 
 
 But whence arises the heat of the blood ? This 
 deserves a particular enquiry. 
 
 Fermentation is that spontaneous, intestine mo. 
 tion, which by the heat of subterraneous caverns, will 
 in a few hours so change vegetable juices, (for fer- 
 mentation is confined to the vegetable kingdom) as 
 from a vapid wort quenching fire, to nourish fire, 
 and to afford that inflammable liquor, commonly cal- 
 led spirits. 
 
 Effervescence arises from an intestine motion ex- 
 cited in various fluids, by the mixture of other fluids, 
 or of salts or powders of a different nature. Acids 
 
72 
 
 and alcalis, when mixed, cause a great ebullition, but 
 no great heat ; whereas the solution of some metals 
 in aqua-fortis, causes intense heat, and emits flame. 
 Aromatic oils, mixed with acid mineral spirits, kindle 
 and burn with violent explosions. 
 
 In these cases, as there is no adventitious fire, there 
 must be fire lying hid in one or other of the bodies. 
 And it is known, much air lies dormant in all bo* 
 dies. It is known likewise, that fire cannot exert 
 itself without the help of air. It being granted then, 
 that fire and air lie dormant in all bodies, there is 
 only required such an action as may set at liberty 
 the particles of air and of fire. By this action the 
 particles of air recover their elasticity, and putting 
 those of fire in motion, eause heat, but not incen- 
 sion, unless this fire meet a proper pabulum, which 
 pabulum is sulphur only, though differently modified, 
 whether in the appearance of brimstone, oil, spirits, 
 metalline sulphur, or the most inflammable of all, ani- 
 mal sulphur, commonly called phosphorus. 
 
 In fermentation, the fire and air being let loose, 
 produce warmth, but seldom kindle, because of the 
 water predominating. But in the effervescence, pro- 
 duced by the solution of metalline sulphur, they kin. 
 die and sometimes cause explosions. Aromatic oils, 
 containing little but the sulphureous parts of the 
 vegetables, immediately kindle and break out into 
 flame. And phosphorus is so highly inflammable, 
 that if it be only exposed to the air a few minutes, it 
 kindles and flames. 
 
 Now all animals contain more or less phospho- 
 rus. Some insects constantly shine in the open air. 
 Many sorts of fish are luminous: some quadrupeds 
 emit light, on a very slight friction. These are proofs 
 of phosphorus lying dormant in animal fluids : and 
 as they all contain air likewise, let only the phos- 
 phoreal and aereal particles be brought into contact, 
 and heat necessarily ensues. 
 
 This clearly explains the cause of animal heat : of 
 which the heart and arteries are the occasion; not by 
 friction, but by the intestine motion, which the cir- 
 
73 
 
 dilation gives to the several particles that constitute 
 the mass of animal fluids. As the velocity of these 
 fluids is increased, the particles of which they consist 
 come oftener into contact, and the oftener the phos- 
 phoreal and aereal meet, the more heat they produce. 
 But to what cause is the colour of the bloodowiug? 
 Borelii took some of the red part, and washing 
 it frequently hi water, found it separable into a vis- 
 cous slippery substance, consisting of colourless fibres 
 which rose and gathered into a scum on the top of 
 the water, arid a deep red powder, which precipitated 
 plentifully to the bottom. Hence it appears that the 
 redness of the blood springs from red tinging par- 
 ticles, as in the case of dying. 
 
 However, this red colour, though generally found 
 in the blood of land. animals, is not absolutely neces- 
 sary, there being some species, whose blood is white 
 or limpid. Nay, Dr. Drake let out of the median 
 vein of 3 man, a pure, white blood, like milk, which 
 when cold, did not separate into two parts, as the 
 red usually does. Nor yet did it yield any skim or 
 cream, neither turn sour as milk uses to do. Dr. Deal 
 gives an instance of the same kind ; and Dr. Lower 
 relates one as strange. A person bled at the nose, 
 till at length the broth he drank flowed out very 
 little altered. 
 
 It is amazing to see, how careful providence has 
 been, to prevent the blood's running into coucre. 
 tions, which might- destroy life, by the very disposi- 
 tions of the vessels it is to run through. These are 
 so contrived, sp as to cause the globules to come 
 together with a brisk collision. The arteries which 
 convey the blood from the heart to the extremities, 
 continually lessen as they recede from their source ; 
 in consequence of which the globules of blood must 
 rush with torce agaii^t one another, as they are driven 
 on impetuously. And the veins which bring it back 
 from the extremities to the heart, enlarging all the 
 if ay as they go on, while the streams of several cou- 
 tinuatiy run into oue ; each of these iugresses causes 
 
 I. K 
 
74 
 
 new commotions, capable, though not of dissolving 
 that natural connexion of the red and serous particles, 
 yet of preventing any preternatural concretions or 
 coagulations. . 
 
 53. These are the parts of which this wonderful 
 machine is composed, which the chymists say, con- 
 sists of four sorts of martt-r, earth, water, salt, and 
 sulphur, the particles of which being variously mixed 
 constitute larger particles of different kinds ; out of 
 which, more loosely or closely connected, all the parts 
 of the body, so id or fluid are composed. 
 
 But this is far from being an accurate account. For 
 what are salt and sulphur but species of earth ? May 
 not we then much more properly say, with the an- 
 cients, that the body is chiefly composed of earth and 
 water, yet cannot enjoy even animal life, unless air and 
 fire, also be wrought into its frame ? So that at 
 whatsoever time, it is deprived either of air or fire y 
 it is an useless, lifeless clod. And yet the manner 
 how these are so intimately mixed, both with our fluid 
 and solid parts, as much exceeds our comprehen- 
 sion, as the manner how the soul is united to its house 
 Oi c'ny. 
 
 That much air is wrought into the whole animal 
 frai,:., appears I; the o'lowing experiments. The 
 bio (1 of a sheep. ire^ drawn, was in a wide-mouthed 
 gla>s put in'o a. receiver, and the air drawn out. After 
 a while, he ^ubii parts of the blood forced their way 
 t'jrou^h tilt- clammy ones, and seemed to boil in large 
 clusters, some as big as nutmegs; and sometimes 
 th" expansion was so vehement, that it boiled over the 
 
 glas-?. Some milk In ing put into a vessel four 
 
 or fhe inches higK when the air was drawn out, it 
 boih'd s impetuously, as to throw up several parts 
 out Oi tiV gia&b luiit contained it. 
 
 And to shew that not only the blood, but the 
 other parts of anurals include air ; the hvrr of an 
 eel was put into a receiver, and even this apparently 
 swelled '-very way, as soon as the air was withdrawn. 
 
 The air as a uxed element in the composition of 
 
75 
 
 solid and fluid bodies, has been generally overloaked 
 by philosophers, and even by the chymists, who have 
 above all sects, gloried in their knowledge of princi- 
 ples, or elements ; until Mr. Boyle, Sir Isaac New*. 
 ton, and more especially Dr. Hales, by many expe- 
 riments demonstrated that a great part of the sub- 
 stance of most bodies, in several to half their weight, 
 is a permanent or nnelastic air, which being freed 
 [Vither (1) slowly, by the air-pump, putrefaction, fer- 
 mentation, distillation, &c. or (2) suddenly by explo- 
 sions, fulminations, ebullitions, mixtures, &c.] from 
 the other solid particles, assumes its elasticity, and 
 fills an immense space, in comparison of the body 
 from whence it came. Dr. Hales found a cubic inch, 
 of blood, in distillation, afforded above 30 times its 
 bulk of elastic air; whose particles are in effect the 
 wedges of nature, which pin and cement together the 
 other elements, and particles of bodies for their 
 growth of accretion, and under other circumstances, 
 regaining their elasticity, serve to break again those 
 parts for the dissolution of the compound, w lose 
 matter may be, by the same instrument, aga.Q dif- 
 ferently assembled and combined for the forming of 
 other bodies. 
 
 54. It remains to add some reflections on the wis- 
 dom of God, displayed in the structure of the human 
 body. And how eminently is this displayed, first, ia 
 the situation of its several parts and members ! They 
 are situated most conveniently for use, for ornament, 
 and for mutual assistance. 1. For use. The prin- 
 cipal senses are placed in the head, as sentinels in a 
 watch-tower. How could the eyes have been more 
 commodiously fixed, for the guidance of the whole 
 body ? The ears likewise, made lor the reception of 
 sounds, which naturally move upward, are rightly 
 placed in the uppermost^ parts of the body ; and so 
 ure the nostrils, as all odours ascend. Again : 
 how could the hands hafe been m re conveniently 
 placed for all sorts of exercises ? Or the heart, t j 
 E 2 
 
dispense life and heat to the whole body ? Of th,e 
 sinks of the body, than in the most remote parts of 
 it? 2. For ornament. Not to descend to particu- 
 lars, what could be better contrived, than that those 
 members which are pairs should be of equal length 
 and just answer one another on rach side ? 3. For 
 mutual assistance. So the eye stands most conveni- 
 ently to guide the hand, and the hand to defend the 
 eye. The same may be said of the other parts : they 
 are all so placed, as to direct or help each other. This 
 will clearly appear, if you suppose the position of any 
 of them to be changed. Had our arms been bent 
 backward, what direction could our eyes have afforded 
 us in working ? Or how could we even have fed 
 eurselve* ? Nay, had one arm bem backward, and 
 the other f. rward, half the use of them had been 
 lost ; for cue could not have assisted the other in any 
 action. 
 
 How is his wisdom displayed, secondly, in the 
 ample provision, made for the securiiy of the princi- 
 pal parts ! These are, 1. The Heart, the fountain of 
 life. 'Jhis Ii4.s in the centre of the trunk of the body 
 covrrfd- with its own membra- e ; the pericardium, 
 lodjtd within the soft bed of the lungs, encompassed 
 rourd with a double fence, both of thick muscles and 
 skins, ol fun* ribs and bones ; besides the arms, con- 
 veniently r la ed to ward off any *iolenec ? 2. The 
 Btfiin, the prii*ci( le of al! sense and motion, is sur- 
 rounoeii wuh so strong a defence, that it must be a 
 mighty toice indeed, which is able to injure it. The 
 sk 11 is so hard, thuk and tough, that it is almost as 
 it i, a* a helmet oi won. Th-.s is covered with skin 
 and hair, which both keep it warm, arid soften the 
 Yioknc; 1 i,t a stroke. Yet more, a thick and tough 
 membrane ha* g* lot se about it, wh.ch often saves it, 
 evn. whet ti.e >kui) IK bn-ke. And lastly a fine mem- 
 brant dosely adheres, 10 keep it from quashing and 
 shaking* 
 
 How is it displayed, thirdly, in the abundant pro*, 
 vision that is maue against evil acciueuts and iucon- 
 
77 
 
 fenicnccs! To this end, 1. The members which are of 
 eminent use are i;i pairs. W\; have two eyes, ears* 
 nostrils, hands ; two feet, two breasts, t'.vo kidneys, 
 that if one should be rendered useless, the ot^ier might 
 serve us tolerably well ; whereas, had a man but ones 
 hand or eye, if that were gone, all were gjne. 2. All 
 the resscls have many ramifications, which send forth 
 t\vigs to the neighbouring vessels; so that if one 
 branch be cut or obstructed, its want may bj sup- 
 plied by the twigs from tne neighbouring vessels. 3. 
 Many ways are provided to evacuate whatever might 
 be hurtful to us. If any thing oppress the h^ad, it 
 can free itse/f by sneezing, if the lungs, they can cast 
 it off by coughing. If any thing burden the stomach, 
 it can contract itself, and throw it up by vomit. Be* 
 sides th se evacuations, there are siege, urine, sweat, 
 and h<emorrnagcs of various kinds. 4. Whereas sleep 
 is necessary for us in many respects, nature has 
 provided, that though we lie long OR one side, we 
 should feel no uneasiness while we sl&'p, no, nor when 
 we awake. One would think, the \vhole weight of 
 the body pressing the muscles on which we lie, would 
 be veiy burdensome. And we find by experience 
 so it is, when we lie long awake in the night. Pro- 
 bably this provision is mude, by an inflation of tht 
 ntuscles, making them soft, and yet renitent, like 
 pillows. That they are inflated durinsj sleep, appears 
 to the very eye, in the faces of children ; a ad from 
 ttie common experiment, that if we sleep ino u clothes 
 tve must loosen our garters and other ligatures, other* 
 wise we find uneasiness in those parts. 5. Because 
 sleep is inconsistent with the sense of pain, therefore 
 during rest, those nerves that convey the motions to 
 the brain, which excite the sense of pain ure ob- 
 structed, 4 ' This 1 myself, says Mr. Ray, have often 
 experienced, since I have had sores on my legs. Wak 
 ing suddenly, 1 find myself at perfect ease for awhile. 
 Then the pam by degrees returns." 
 
 It is Displayed, fourthly, m the multitude of in. 
 teutions God hath in Die formation of the several 
 3 
 
78 
 
 parts, and the multitude of qualifications they require 
 to fit them for their several uses. Galen observes, 
 u that there are in a human body, above six hundred 
 muscles. And there are at least ten several inten- 
 tions in each, and as many qualifications needful : so 
 tha( about the muscles alone, no Itss than 6000 ends 
 are to be attended to. The bones are reckoned to be 
 284. The distinct intentions in each of these are above 
 forty : in all about a hundred thousand. And thus 
 It is 3 in proportion, with all the other parts : the 
 skin, ligaments, veins, arteries, nerves, glands, hu- 
 mours : but more especially with the members of the 
 body, which as to the multitude of intentions and qua. 
 lifications, far exceed the similar parts. And should 
 one of these qualifications fail, great inconvenience 
 would ensue." 
 
 It is displayed, fifthly, in the stature of man, so 
 admirably well adapted to the circumstances of his 
 existence. Had man been only a foot or two high, 
 he had been quite disproportioned to every thing 
 round about him. Had he been much larger he could 
 not well have been supplied with food, all the edible 
 animals would not have sufficed. And had they too 
 been proportionably larger, the surface of the earth 
 would not have sufficed to feed them. 
 
 It is however a common opinion, and has been so 
 ever since old Homer's time, that the people in the 
 early ages of the world, were much larger than us. 
 And it is true, we read of some meri of a surprising 
 stature. But they were even then esteemed giants* 
 The ordinary stature of men, is probably just the 
 same now, as it was at the beginning. This may be 
 gathered from the monuments still remaining, parti- 
 cularly the pyramids of Egypt The cavities for bodies 
 now visible herein, are little larger than our ordinary 
 coffins : likewise from several embalmed bodies taken 
 out of them it appears, that men are of the same 
 stature now, that they were when those pyramids 
 were built, which is at least three thousand years 
 ago. Eighteen hundred years ago the emperor 
 
79 
 
 Augustus was five feet seven inches high : Queen Eli- 
 zabeth was taller by two inches, being five feet nine. 
 
 But what, a paradox is it, that all nun are taller 
 in the morning than in the evening ? I \ a young 
 ma i the difference is near an inch, try the xoeriment 
 as often as you please. Does not the diff rence pro. 
 ceed from hence. that as long as the trunk of the body 
 is in" an erect posture, there is a constant pressure on 
 the large cartilages connecting the vertebras of the 
 spine ? So long they gradually contract, and conse- 
 quently a man grows shorter. But they again gra- 
 dually expand themselves, while we are in a reclining 
 posture. 
 
 As to the art of embalming, it appears from a mum- 
 my not long since dug up in France, that this was 
 more completely understood in the western world 
 some Hges since, than ever it was in 'Egypt. This, 
 -mummy which was d<ig up at Auvtrgne, was an 
 amazing instance of their skill. As some peasants 
 were digging in a field noar Rion, within ab i\i-. twen- 
 ty-six paces of the highway, between that ami the 
 river Artier, they discovered a tomb, that was about a 
 foot and a half beneath the surface. Ii was composed 
 only of two stones ; one of which formed the b<dy of 
 a sepulchre, and the other the cover. 
 
 Tni> tomb was of free-stone ; seven feet and a half 
 Jong, three feet and a halt broad, and about three 
 feet high. It was of rude workmanship; the cover 
 had been polished, but was without figure or inscrip- 
 tion : within this tomb was placed a leaden. cotiin, four 
 feet seven inches long, fourteen inches broad, and fif- 
 teen nigh, it was oblong, like a box, equally broad 
 at both ends, and covered with a lid that fitted on 
 like a snuft'-b^x, without a hinge. Witiiin this cof- 
 fin was a mummy in the most perfect preservation. 
 The internal sides of the coifiii were filled with an 
 .aromatic substance, mingled with clay. Round the 
 mummy was wrapped a coarse cloth ; under this 
 .were two shirts, or shrouds, of the most exquisite tex- 
 4 
 
80 
 
 ture ; beneath these a bandage, which covered, all 
 parts of the body, like an infant in swaddling clothes ; 
 under this general bandage there was another, which 
 went particularly round the extremities, the hands and 
 legs ; the head was covered with two caps ; the feet 
 and hands were without any particular bandages ; 
 and the whole body was covered with an aromatic 
 Substance an inch thick. When these were removed 
 and the body exposed naked to view, nothing could be 
 more astonishing than the exact resemblance it bore to 
 a body that had been dead a day or two before. It 
 appeared well proportioned, except the head was very 
 large, and the feet small. The skin had ail the pli* 
 ancy, and colour of a body lately dead; the visage, 
 however was of a brownish hue. The belly yielded to 
 the touch ; all the joints were flexible, except those 
 of the legs and feet ; the fingers stretched forth of 
 themselves whew bent inwards. The nails still conti. 
 flued perfect ; and all the marks of the joints, both in 
 the fingers, the palms of the hands, and the soles of 
 the feet, remained perfectly visible. The bones of the 
 arms and legs were soft and pliant a those of the scull 
 preserved their rigidity ; the hair which only covered 
 ihe back of the head, was of a chesnut colour, and 
 about two inches long. The pericranium at top was 
 separated from the scull, by an incision, in order to 
 the introducing aromatics in the place of the braiu, 
 where they were found mixed with clay. The teeth, 
 the tongue, and the ears, were all preserved in perfect 
 form. The intestines were not taken out uf thebody t 
 but remained pliant and entire, as in a fresh subject^ 
 and the breast was made to rise and fall like a pair of 
 bellows. The embalming preparation had a very 
 strung and pungent smell, which the body preserved 
 for more than a month after it was exposed to the air. 
 Jf one touched either the mummy or any part of the 
 preparation, the hands smelt of it for several hours 
 after. This mummy, having remajned exposed for 
 some months, began to suffer some mutilations. A part 
 ef the skin of the forehead was cut off ; all its teeth 
 
89 
 
 not, like several of the veins, near the surface, but 
 placed at a proper depth. And hereby they are more 
 secure from external injuries. In those parts which 
 are most liable to pressure, an admirable expedient 
 takes place. The arteries inosculate with each other: 
 breaking into a new track, they fetch a little circuit, 
 and afterwards return into the main road. So that if 
 any thing block up or straiten the direct passage, the 
 Current, by diverting to this new channel, eludes the 
 impediment, flows on, and soon regains its wonted 
 course. 
 
 The veins receive the blood from the arteries, and 
 reconvey it to the heart. The pressure of tne blood 
 is not near so forcible in these as in the arteries* 
 Therefore their texture is considerably slighter. Such 
 an exact (economist is nature, amidst all her libera- 
 lity ! In many of these canals, the current, though 
 widening continually, is obliged to push its way 
 against the perpendicular : hereby it is exposed to 
 the danger of failing buck and overloading the ves- 
 sels. To prevent this, valves are interposed at pro- 
 per distaaces, which are no hindrance to the regular 
 passage, but prevent the reflux, and facilitate the pas- 
 sage of the blood to the grand receptacle. But these 
 valves are only where the blood is constrained to 
 climb : where the ascent ceas^s^ they cease also. 
 
 Here are glands to filtrate the passing fluids: each 
 of which is an assemblage of vessels, complicated with 
 seeming confusion, but with perfect regularity. Each 
 forms a secretion far more curious than the most ad- 
 mired operations of chymisiy : muscL-s. composed of 
 the finest fibres, yet endued with incredible strength, 
 fashioned after a variety of patterns, but ail in the 
 highest taste for elegance and convenience. These 
 are the instruments of motion, and at the command 
 of the will, execute their functions as quick as light^. 
 nin^ : nerve* snrprisirgly minus 2, which set the 
 muscles at work, diffuse -the power of sensation 
 through the body, and upon any impression from with- 
 *,utj give all needful intelligence to the soul ; vesicles^ 
 
90 
 
 tfestined with an unctuous matter, in some places com- 
 pose a soft cushion : as in the calf of the leg, whose 
 large muscles, mixed \vith fat are of singular service to 
 those important b<*nes. i his flanks and fortifies 
 them, like a strong bastion, supports arid cherishes 
 them, like a soft pillow. In other places they fill up 
 the vacuities, and smooth the inequalities of the flesh. 
 Inwardly, they supply the macir.ne for motion ; out- 
 wardly, they render it smooth and graceful. 
 
 The skin, like a curious surtout, covers the whole, 
 formed of the most delicate net- work, whose meshes 
 are minute, and whose threads are multiplied, even to 
 a prodigy : the meshes are so minute, that nothing 
 passes them, which is discernible by the eye ; though 
 they discharge, every moment, myriads and myriads 
 of superfluous encumbrances. The threads are so 
 multiplied, that neither the point of t e smallest needle, 
 nor the infinitely finer lance of a gnat, can pierce any 
 part, without drawing blood, and causing an uneasy 
 Sensation. Consequently, without wounding, by so 
 small a puncture, both a nerve and a vein ! 
 
 But a course of incessant action must exhaust ths 
 Solids and waste the fluids, and unless both are pro- 
 perly recruited, in a short time destroy the machine. 
 For this reason it is furnished with the organs, -and 
 endued with the powers of nutrition : teeth, the fore- 
 most, thin and sharp, to bite asunder the food ; the 
 hiudcrmost, broad and strong, indented with small ca- 
 vities, the better to grind in pieces what is transmit- 
 ted to them. But iu chi'dreri, the formation of teeth is 
 postponed till they have occasion for them. 
 
 Were the teeth like other bones, covered with the 
 periosteum, chevying would give iiuich pain. Were 
 they quite naked, they would soon decay and perish. 
 To guard against both, they are ovenaid with a neat 
 enamel j harder than the bone itself, which gives na 
 pain in chewing, and yet secures them from various 
 injuries. 
 
 The Lips prevent the food from slipping out of the 
 mouthj and assisted by the tongue, return it to the 
 
81 
 
 were drawn out, and some attempts were made to 
 pull away the tongue. It was therefore put iato 
 a glass case, arid transmitted to the king's cabinet, at 
 Paris. 
 
 There are many reasons to believe this to be the 
 body of a person of the highest distinction ; however 
 no marks remain to assure us either of the quality of 
 the person, or the time of his decease. There are only 
 to be seen some irregular figures on the cuffin : one 
 of which represents a kind of star. 
 
 T cre were also some singular characters upon the 
 bandages, which were totally defaced by those who 
 had fore them. It should seem that it had remained 
 for several ages in this state, since the first years im- 
 mediaMy succeeding +he interment, are usually those 
 in wnich the body is most liable to decay. 
 
 On this remarkable subject, I beg leave to add an 
 extract from a iate author : 
 
 " I always apprehended that human bodies after 
 death, if interred, or exposed to the air without any 
 preparation to defend them trom the attacks of it, 
 won d of necessity corrupt, become offensive, and 
 putj.fy. The art of embalming is very ancient, and 
 was invented to preserve them from this inevitable co;i. 
 sequence of death ; but that they may remain tmputri- 
 fied -for centuries without any sort of artificial aid,! have 
 seen so incontestibly proved since my arrival at Bre- 
 men, that 1 imagine not the shadow of doubt can re- 
 main about it. Under the cathedral church is a 
 vaulted apartment, s-.ipportcd on pillars ; it is near 
 sixty paces long, and half as many broad. The light 
 and air are constantly admitted into it by three win. 
 dows, though it is several feet beneath the level of the 
 ground. Here are five large oak cotters, rather than 
 Cv,ihns, each containing a c<xrpse. 1 examined them 
 several!) for i\vj nour^. The most curious and per. 
 feci, is tha. of a woman. Tradi.<on says, she was an 
 countess^ who dying hero at Bremen, 
 5 
 
83 
 
 lier body to be placed. in this vault unintcrred, in the 
 apprehension that her relations would cause it tq be 
 brought over to her native country. They say it has 
 lain here two hundred and fifty years. Though the 
 muscular skin is totally dried in every part, yet so 
 little are the features of the face sunk or changed', 
 that nothing is more certain than that she was young, 
 and even beautiful. It IN a small countenance, round 
 in its contour : the cartilage of the nose and the nos. 
 trils, have undergone no alteration : her teeth are all 
 firm in the sockets, but the lips are drawn away from 
 over them. The cheeks are shrunk in, but yet less 
 than I ever remember to have set n in embalmed bo- 
 dies. The hair of her head is at this time more than 
 eighteen inches long, very thick, and so fast, that I 
 Beavi d the corpse out of the coffer by it : the colour 
 is a light brown, and I cut off a small lock, which is 
 as fresh and glossy as that of a living person. lhat 
 this lady was of high rank seems evident from the 
 extreme fineness ot the linen which covers her body. 
 The landlord of the inn, who was with me, said, he 
 remembered it for forty years past ; during which time 
 there is not the least perceptible alteration in it - 
 In another coffer is fehe body of a workman, who is 
 said to have tumbled off the church, and was killed 
 by the falL His features evince this most forcibly. 
 Extreme agony is marked in them : his mouth is wide 
 open^ and bis eyelids the same ; the eyes are dried 
 up. His breast is unnaturally distended, and his 
 whole frame betrays a violent death. A little child 
 who died in the sniall pox is still more remarkable. 
 The marks of the pustules, which have broken the 
 skin on his hands and head, are very discernible; 
 though one should suppose that a body which died of 
 such a distemper, must contain in a high degree the 
 seeds of putrefaction. The two other corpses are not 
 less extraordinary. There are in this vault likewise 
 
 turkeys, hawks, weasels, and other animals, which 
 have been hung up here, some, time immemorial, some 
 ^tery iately, and are in the most complete preservation; 
 
83 
 
 the skin, bills, and feathers are all unaltered. The 
 magistrates do not permit that any fresh bodies be 
 brought here. The cause of these pheno;nenons are 
 doubtless the dryness of the place where they are laid. 
 It is in vain to seek for any other." 
 
 A repository of nearly the same kind, a late writer 
 informs us is at a monastery, near Palermo, in Sicily. 
 It is a long, subterranean gallery, having niches on 
 every side, between six and seven feet high. In each 
 of these is a human body standing erect, in its usual 
 apparel. The face and the hands are uncovered, and 
 preserve their shape, and natural colour, only a little 
 browner. They are fastened to the wall by the back. 
 Some of them are bc-li'-ved to have been there two or 
 three hundred years. Suppose they couid remain 
 there for ever, what would it profit their former inha* 
 bitants! 
 
 Another traveller gives a fuller account of them. 
 
 u This morning we went to see a celebrated con. 
 Tent of Capuchins, about a mile without the city of 
 Palermo; it contains nothing very remarkable, but 
 the burial-place, which indeed is a great curiosity. 
 This is a vast subterraneous apartment, divided into 
 large commodious galleries, the walls on each side of 
 which are hollowed into a variety of niches, as if in- 
 tended for a great collection of statues : these niches, 
 instead of statues, are all filled with dead bodies, set 
 upright upon their U'gs, and fixed by the back to the 
 inside of a nich. Their number is about three him, 
 dretl ; they are all dressed in the clothes they usually 
 wore, and form a must respectable and venerable as- 
 sembly. The skin and muscles, by a certain prepara- 
 tion, become as dry and hard as a piece of stock^ 
 fish ; and although many of them have been here up- 
 wards of two hundred and fiUy years, yet none aro 
 reduced to skeletons; thuugh the rnusHcs in s >me 
 are more shruuk than in others ; probably 
 6 
 
8* 
 
 these persons had been more extenuated at the time 
 Of their death. 
 
 "Here the people of Paler mo pay daily visits to their 
 deceased friends, and recal with pleasure and regret 
 the scenes of the past life : here they familiarize them, 
 selves with their future state, and choose the company 
 they would wish to keep in the other world. It is a 
 common thing to make choice of their nich, and to try 
 if their body iits it, that no alterations may be neces- 
 sary after they are dead ; and sometimes by way of 
 voluntary penance, they stand for hours in these 
 niches^ 
 
 u The bodies of the princes and first nobility are 
 lodged in handsome chests or trunks, some of them 
 richly adorned : these are not in the shape of coffins, 
 but all of one width,and about a foot and a half, or two 
 feet deep. The keys are kept by the nearest rela- 
 tions of the family, who sometimes come and drop a 
 tear over their departed friends. 
 
 u These visits must prove admirable lessons of humi- 
 lity ; and they are not such objects of horror as one 
 would imagine: they are said, even for ages after 
 death, to retain a strong likeness of what they were 
 when alive: so that, as soon as you have conquered 
 the first feelings excited by these venerable figures, 
 yon only consider this as a vast gallery of original 
 portraits, drawn after the, life, by the justest and 
 most unprejudiced hand, It must be owned, that the 
 colours are rather faded ; and the pencil does not ap- 
 pear to have been the most flattering in the world z 
 but no matter ; it is the pencil of truth, and not of 
 a mercenary, who only wants to please. 
 
 " It might also be made of very considerable use to 
 society :. these dumb orators could give the most pa- 
 thetic lectures upon pride and vanity. Whenever a 
 fellow began to strut, or to affect the haughty, super- 
 cilious air, he should be sent to converse with his 
 friends in the gallery : and if their arguments did not 
 bring him to a proper way of thinking, I would give 
 fcini up as incorrigible.' * 
 
85 
 
 T cannot better conclude this chapter than by aa 
 extract from the late pious and i'\gen ous Mr. Her?ey, 
 which may serve for a recapitulation of what has been 
 said, as well as an improvement of it. 
 
 ** Let us begin with the less adorned, but more solid 
 parts, those which support, and which contain the 
 rest. Fi.st, you have a system of bones, cast in a 
 variety of moulds, in a variety of sizes: all strong, 
 that they may bear up the machine, yet, light that t!>ey 
 may not weigh us down : bored with an inward ca- 
 vity to contain the moistening marrow, and perforat- 
 ed with fine ducts ? to admit the nourishing vessels. 
 Insensible themselves, they are covered with a mem- 
 brane, exquisitely sensible, which warns them of, and 
 secures them from the annoyance of any hurtful fric- 
 tion ; and also preserves the muscles from being fret- 
 ted in their action, by the hard and rou^h substance 
 of the bone. They are larger at the extremities, that 
 they may be joined more firmly, and not so easily 
 dislocated. The manner of their articulation is truly 
 admirable, and remarkably various : yet never varied' 
 without demonstrating some wise design, and answer* 
 ing some valuable end. Frequently when two are 
 united, the one is nicely rounded and capped with a 
 smooth substance ; the other is scooped into a 
 hollow of the same dimensions to receive it ; and 
 both are lubricated with an unctuous fluid, to facili- 
 tate the rotation. 
 
 The feet compose the firmest pedestal, infinitely be- 
 yond all that statuary can accomplish, capable of 
 altering its form, and extending its size, as different 
 circumstances require. They likewise contain a set 
 of the nicest springs, which help to place the body in 
 a variety of attitudes, and qualify it fo the multiplicity 
 of motions. The undermost part of the heel, and fh$ 
 extremity of the sole, are shod with a tough insensible 
 Substance, a kind of natural sandal, which ntver 
 wears out, never wants repair; and which prevents 
 
86 
 
 trn undue compression of the vessels by the weight of 
 the body. The legs and thighs are like stately co- 
 lumsis, so articulated that they are commodious for 
 walking, a-id yet do not obstruct the easy posture of 
 sitting. The legs swell out towards the top with a 
 genteel projection, and are neatly wrought off toward 
 the bottom : a variation which lessens their bulk, while 
 it increases their beauty. 
 
 The ribs, turned into a regular arch, are gently 
 moveable, for the act of respiration. They form a 
 safe lodgment for the lungs and heart, some of the 
 mos important organs of ii'e. The back-bone is de- 
 signed not only to strengthen the body, and - sustaia 
 its most capacious store rooms, but also to bring 
 down the continuation of the brain, usually termed 
 the spinal marrow. It both conveys a*id guards this 
 silver cord, as Solomon terms it, aad by commodious 
 outlets transmits it to all pa. ts, H ;d it btjen only 
 strait and hollow, it might have served these purposes. 
 But then the loins must have been inflexible : to avoid 
 which, it consists of very short boues, knit together 
 by cartilages. This peculiarity of structure gives it 
 the pliancy of an osier, With the firmness of an oak. 
 By this means it is capable of various inflection*, with- 
 out bruising the soft marrow, or diminishing that 
 strength which is necessary to support ail the upper 
 stories. Such & formation in any other ot the solids, 
 must have occasioned great inconvenience. Here 
 it is unspeakably useful, a master-piece of creating 
 skill. 
 
 The arms are exactly proportioned to each other, 
 to preserve the equilibrium of the structure. These 
 feeing the guards that defend, and the ministers that 
 serve the whole body, are fitted for the most diversi- 
 fied and extensive operations : firm with bone, yet 
 not weighty with flesh, and capable of performing all 
 useful motions. They bend inwards and turn outward's; 
 they move upward or downward; they wheel about hi 
 whatever direction we please. To these aic added th# 
 
ST 
 
 fcands, terminated by the fingers, not of the same 
 nor of equal bigness, but in ooth respects different, whictr 
 gives the more beauty, and far greater usefulness. 
 Were they all flesh, they would be weak : were they 
 one entire bone, they would be utterly inflexible : 
 but consisting of various little bones and muscles, what 
 shape can they not assume ? Being placed at the end 
 of the arm the sphere of their action is exceedingly 
 enlarged. Their extremities art 1 an assemblage of fine 
 tendinous fiures, acutely sensible : which notwith- 
 standing are destined to almost incessant employ, and 
 frequently among rugged objects. For this reason 
 they are overlaid with nails, whieh preserve them 
 from any painful impressions. 
 
 In the hand we have a case of the finest instruments, 
 To these we owe those beautiful statues, this melodious 
 trumpet. By the strength of the hand the tallest 
 firs fall, ami the largest oaks descend from the moucu 
 tains. Fashioned by the hand they are a floating 
 warehouse, and carry the productions of art and na- 
 ture from Britain to Japan. 
 
 The hand is the original and universal sceptre, 
 which not only represents, but ascertains our d^mU- 
 IIIOQ over all the elements, and over every creature. 
 Though we have not the strength of the horse, the 
 swiftness of the greyhound, or the quick scent of the 
 spaniel, yet directed by the understanding, and ena- 
 bled by the hand, we can as it were make them all 
 our own. Ti^ese short hands have found a way to 
 penetrate the bowels of the earth, to touch the bot- 
 tom of the sea. These feeble hands can manage the 
 wings of the wind, arm themselves with the violence 
 of fire, and press into their service the forcible impe- 
 tuosity of water. How greatly then are we indebted 
 to our wise Creator, for this distinguishing, this inva- 
 luable member I 
 
 Above all is the Head^for the residence of the brain ; 
 ample to receive, and firm to defend it. it has a 
 communication with all, even the remotest par s ; 
 has outlets, for dispatching couriers to all quarter^ 
 
ss. 
 
 and avenues for receiving speedy intelligence, on all 
 needful occasions It lias iodgments, wherein to post 
 Sentinels, for various offices : to expedite whose ope- 
 rations the whoie turns on a CM ions pivot, nicely 
 contrived to afford the larg -st arid freest circumvo- 
 lutions. 
 
 This is screened from heat, defended from cold, 
 and at. the same time beautified by the hair: a deco- 
 ration so delicate, as no art can supply: so perfectly 
 light as no way to i'lC'imbrr tlh wearer. 
 
 While other animals art prone in their aspect, the 
 attitude of man is erect, which is by far the most 
 graceiuiand bspvaks superiority. IT. is by far the 
 most commodious, for prosecution of all our extensive 
 designs. It is likewise safest, less exposed to Gangers^ 
 and better contrived to repel or avoid them. D :es it 
 not also remind us of our noble original, and our sub- 
 lime end ? Our original, which was the breath of 
 the Almighty:, our end, which was the enjoyment of 
 him in glory. 
 
 THUS much for the rafters and beams of the house* 
 Let us now survey the lodgings wi-hi i. Here are the 
 ligaments, a tough and strong arrangement of fibres, 
 to unite the several parts, and render what would 
 otherwise be an unwieldy jumble, a well compacted 
 and self-manageable system : membranes, thin and 
 -flexile tunides, to enwrap the fleshy parts, to con- 
 nect s<fme, and form a separation between others : ar, 
 terios. the rivers ot our little \\orld, that striking out 
 .as they go, into numberless small canals, visit every 
 street. )ea every apartment in the vital city. These 
 l)emg wide at first, and growing narrower and nar 
 rower, check the rapidly of the blood. This thrown 
 from the heart dilates the arteries, and their own 
 clastic force contracts them: by which means they 
 Tibrate against the finger, and much assist both in the 
 -discovery and cure ot diseases* The larger arteries^ 
 wherever the blood is forced to bend, ire situate on 
 tht bending side : lest being stretched t > an improper 
 .length,, Uie circulation should be retarded. They 
 
grinders. While they do this in concert with the 
 cheeks, they squeeze a thin Jiquor from the adjacent 
 glands. This moistens the food and prepares it for 
 digestion. When the month is inactive these are 
 nearly closed : but when we speak or eat, their 
 moisture bemg then necessary, is expressed as needs re- 
 quire. 
 
 But the food could not descend merely by its own 
 weight, through a narrow and clammy passage into 
 the stomach. Therefore to effect this, muscles both 
 strait and circular are provided. The former enlarge 
 the cavity, and give an easy admittance. The latter, 
 closing behind the descending aliment, press it down- 
 ward. But before the food enters the gullet, it must 
 of necessity pass over the orifice of the wind-pipe :< 
 whence it is in danger of falling upon the lungs, which 
 might occasion instant death. To obviate this, a 
 m veable lid is placed, which when the smallest par- 
 ticle advances, is pulled down and shut close, but as 
 soon as it is swallowed, is let loose and stands open. 
 Thus the important pass is always made sure against 
 any noxious approaches ; yet always left free for 'the 
 air, and open for respiration. 
 
 The food descending into the stomach, is not yet 
 ready for the bowels. Therefore that great receiver 
 is strong to bear, and proper to detain it, till t is 
 wrought iiito the smoothest pulp imaginable. From 
 hence it is discharged by a gentle force, and passes 
 gradually into uie intestines. 
 
 Near the entrance waits the gall-bladder, ready to 
 pour its salutary juice upon the aliment, which dis. 
 solves any thing vicid, scours the intestines, and keeps 
 all the fine apertures clear. This bag, a-> the sto- 
 mach fills, is pressed thereby,and then only discharges 
 its contents. It is also furnished with a valve of a 
 very peculiar nature, namely of a spiral form ; through 
 which the detersive liquid cannot hastily pour, but 
 must gently ooze. Admirable construction ! which 
 without any care of ours, gives the needful supply, and 
 ,110 more. 
 
92 
 
 The nutriment then pursues its way through ths 
 mazes <>f the intestines : which by a worm-like mo- 
 tion protrude it and force its small particles into the 
 lacteal Kfsscls. These are a series of the finest 
 5trai ers, ranged into countless multitudes all along the 
 sides of the winding passage. Had this been strait or 
 short, the food could not have resigned a sufficient 
 quantity of its nourishing particles. Therefore it is 
 artfully convolved and greatly extended, that whatever 
 passes may ' be sifted thoroughly. As the aliment pro. 
 ceeiis, it is more and more drained of its nutritious 
 juices. In consequence of this, it would become hard, 
 and pain the tender parts, but that glands are posted 
 in proper places, to discharge a lubricated fluid. 
 These are smaller or fewer, near the stomach, because 
 there the aliment is moist enough : whereas in the 
 bowels remote from the stomach, they are either multi- 
 plied or enlarged. 
 
 The Chyle drawn off by the lacteals is carried 
 through millions of ducts, too fine even for the micro, 
 scrope to discover. To this it is owing, that nothing 
 enters the blood, but what is capable of passing 
 through the finest vessels. It is then "lodged in seve- 
 ral commodious cells (the glands of the mesentery) 
 and there rnixt with a thin diluting lymph, which 
 makes it more apt to flow. Hence it is conveyed to 
 the common receptacle, and mounts' through a per. 
 pendicular tube into the left subclavian vern. This 
 tube lies contiguous to the great artery, whose strong 
 pulsation drives on the fluid and enables it to ascend 
 and unload its treasure, at the very door of the 
 lieart. 
 
 But the chyle is as yet in too crude a state, to be 
 fit for the amm 1 functions. Therefore it is thrown 
 into the lungs. In the spungy cells of this casing 
 laboratory, it mixes v*ith the external air ; and its 
 whole substance i& made more smooth and uniform. 
 Thus improved i! nt.ers the left ventricle of the heart, 
 a strong, active indefatigable muscle. The large mus- 
 cles of the aria or of the thigh are soon wearied: a 
 
iay r s labour,ora day's journey exhausts their strength^ 
 Bat the heart toils whole weeks, whole months, nay 
 years, unwearied : is equally a stranger to intermis- 
 sion and fatigue. Impelled by this, part of the bTood 
 shoots upward to the head ; part rolls through the 
 whole body. 
 
 But how shall a stream divided into myriads of chan- 
 nels, be brought back to its source ? Should any por- 
 tion of it be unable to return, putretaction,if not death, 
 must ensue. Therefore the ailwise creator has con- 
 nected the extremities of the arteries with the be^i;t- 
 ning of the vt-ius : so that the same force which darts 
 the blood through the former, helps to drive it through 
 the latter. Thus it is reconducted to the great cistern, 
 and there played oflf afresh. , 
 
 Where two opposite currents wtfuld be in danger of 
 clashing, where the streams from the ?ena eava and 
 vena asctndens coincide, a fibrous excrescence inter- 
 poses, which like a pr 'jcc'ing pier, breaks the stroke 
 of each, and throws both into their proper receptacle. 
 Where the motio:i is to l><' speedy, the channels either 
 forbear to wind (as in the great artery which descends 
 to the feet) or to lessen in their dimensions, as in every 
 interval between all the ramifications. When the pro. 
 gress is to be retarded, the tubes are variously con. 
 volved, or their diameter contracted. Thus guarded, 
 the living flood never discontinues its course, but night 
 and day, whether we sleep or wak*, still perseveres 
 to run briskly through the arteries, and return softly 
 through the veins. 
 
 B't farther, the great Creator has made us an in- 
 valuable present of the senses, to be the inlets of innu- 
 merable pleasures, ai d the means of the most valuable 
 advantages, 
 
 The Eyp, in its elevated station, commands the most 
 enlarged prospects : consisting only of fluids, enclosed 
 \vithm coats, it shews us all the graces and glories of 
 nature. How wonderful, that an i.nage of the hiigc-st 
 mountuins ; and the widest landscapes, should enter 
 
94 
 
 the small pupil! that the rajs of light should paint on 
 the optic nerre, puint in an instant of time, paint in 
 their truest colours and exactest lineaments, every 
 species of external object ! 
 
 The eye is so tender, that the slightest touch might 
 injure its delicate frame. It is guarded, therefore, 
 with peculiar care, intrenched deep, and barricaded 
 round with bones. As the smallest fly might incom- 
 mode its polished surface, it is farther protected by 
 two substantial curtains In sleep, when there is no 
 occasion tor the sense, but a necessity to guard the 
 organ, these curtains close of their own accord. At 
 any time they fly together as quick as thought. They 
 are lined with an extremely fine sponge, moist with its 
 own dew. Its bristly palisades keep out the least 
 mote, and moderate ihe too strong impressions of the 
 light. 
 
 As in oTir waking hours we have almost incessant 
 need for these little orbs, they run upon the finest 
 castors, rolling every way with the utmost ease ; which 
 circumstance, added to the flexibility of the neck, ren- 
 ders our two eyes as useful as a thousand. 
 
 The Isar -consists of an outward porch and inner 
 rooms. The 'porch somewhat prominent from the 
 head, is of a cartilaginous substance, covered with 
 tight membranes, and wrought into sinuous cavities. 
 These, like circling hills, collect the wandering undu- 
 lations ot the air, and transmit them vtith a vigorous 
 impulse to the 'finely stretched membrane of the drum. 
 This is expanded upon a circle of bones, over a po- 
 lished reverberating cavity. It is furnished with braces 
 that strain or relax, as the sound is faint or strong. 
 The hammer and the anvil, the winding labyrinth, 
 and the sounding galleries, these and other pieces of 
 mechanism, all instrumental to hearing, are inexpres- 
 sibly curious. 
 
 Amazingly exact must be the tension of Ihe auditory 
 nerves, since they answer the smallest tremors of the 
 atmosphere, and distinguish their most subtle varia. 
 
95 
 
 tions. These living chords, turned by an Almightjr 
 hand, and spread through the echoing isles, receive all 
 the impressions of sound, and propagate them to the 
 brain. These give existence to the charms or music, 
 and the still nobler charms of discourse. 
 
 The eye is useless amidst the gloom of night ; but 
 the ear hears through the darkest medium. The eye 
 is on duty only in our waking hours, but the ear is 
 always accessible. 
 
 As there are concussions of the air which are dis- 
 cernible only by the instruments of hearing, so there 
 are odoriferous particles wafted in the air, which are 
 perceivable only by the smell. The nostrils are wide 
 at the bottom, that more effluvia may enter ; narrow 
 at the top, that when entered they may act more 
 strongly. The steams that exhale from fragrant bodies 
 are fine beyond imagination. Microscopes that shew 
 thousands of animals in a drop of water, cannot bring 
 one of these to our sight; yet so judiciously are the 
 olfactory nets set, that they catch the vanishing fugi. 
 tives. They imbibe all the roaming perfumes of spring, 
 and make us banquet even on the invisible dainties of 
 nature. 
 
 Another capacity for pleasure our bountiful Creator 
 has bestowed, by granting us the powers of ta.-te. 
 This is circumstanced in a manner so. benign and wise$ 
 as to be a standing plea for temperance, which set the 
 finest edge on the taste, and adds the most poignant re- 
 lish to its enjoyments. 
 
 And these senses are not only so many sources of 
 delight, but a joint security to our health: they are 
 the inspectors ihat examine our food, and enquire into 
 the properties of it. For the discharge of this office 
 they are excellently qualified, and most co;nmO(!iously 
 situate, so that nothing can gain admission till it has 
 past their scrutiny. 
 
 To all these, as a most necessary supplement, is 
 added the sense of Feeling. And how happily is it 
 tempered between the two extremes, neither too acute 
 
tsor too obtuse. Indeed all the scnsos are exactly 
 adapted to the exigences of our present state. Were 
 they strained much higher, they would be avenues of 
 anguish ; were they much relaxed they would be well 
 nigh useless. 
 
 The crowning gift which augments the benefits ac- 
 cruing from all the senses is Speech. Speech makes 
 n^ a gainer by the eyes avid ears of others, by their 
 ideas and observations* And what art admirable in. 
 strumen? f..r articulating 'the voice, and modifying it 
 into speech, is the tongue ? This little collection of 
 muscular fibres, under the direction of (he Creator, is 
 theaitificer of our words; by this we communicate 
 the secrets of our breasts, and make our very thoughts 
 audible. This likewise is the efficient cause of music j 
 it is soft as the lute, or shrill as the trumpet. As the 
 tongue requires an easy play r it is lodged in an ample 
 cavity ; it moves under a concave roof, which gives ad. 
 ditional vigour to the \oice, as the shell of a violin to 
 the sound of the strings. 
 
 Wonderfully wise is the regulation of voluntary and 
 involuntary notions. The Will in some cases has no 
 power : in others she i? an absolute sovereign. If she 
 commands, the arm is stretched, the hand is closed. 
 How easily, how punctually are her orders obeyed ! 
 To turn the screw or work the lever is laborious and 
 wearisome ; but we work the vertebras of the neck 
 with all tneir appendam chambers ; we advance the leg 
 with the whole en-cumbent body ; we rise, we spring 
 from the ground, and though so great a weight is 
 raised, we mett with no difficulty or fatigue. 
 
 Til** i all this should be effected without any toil by 
 a bare act of tie Will is very surprising ; but that it 
 should be done even while we are entirely ignorant of 
 the manner in which it is performed is most astonish- 
 ing. Who can play a single tune upon the spinnet, 
 witnout K-arning the difference of the keys ? Yet tho 
 mind toucnes every spring of the human machine with 
 the most masterly skillj though she knows nothing at 
 
97 
 
 ail of the nature of her instrument, or the process of 
 her operations. 
 
 The eye of a rustic, who has no notion of optics, or 
 any of it laws, shall lengthen and shorten its axis, di- 
 late and contract its pupil; without the least hesitation, 
 and with the utmost propriety, exactly adapting itself 
 to the particular distance of objects, and the different 
 degrees of light. By this means it performs some of 
 the most curious experiments in the Newtonian philo- 
 sophy, without the least knowledge of the science, or 
 consciousness of its own dexterity. 
 
 Which shall we admire most, the multitude of or- 
 gans, their finished form aud faultless order, or the 
 power which the soul exercises over them ? Ten thoa* 
 sand reins are put into her hands, aud she manages all, 
 conducts all, without the least perplexity or irregula- 
 rity. Rather with a promptitude, a consistency and 
 speed, that nothing else can equal ! 
 
 So fearfully and wonderfully are we made ! made of 
 such complicated parts, each so nicely fashioned, and 
 all so exactly arranged, every one executing such cu. 
 rious functions, and many of them operating in so mys- 
 terious a manner! And since health depends on such 
 a numerous assemblage of moving organs, sincea single 
 secretion stopped may spoil the temperature of the 
 fluid, a single wheel clogged may put an end to the 
 solids ; with what holy fear should we pass the time of 
 our sojourning here below. Trusting for continual 
 preservation, not merely to our own care, but to the 
 Almighty hand which formed the admirable, machine,, 
 directs its agency, and supports its being . 
 
 TOL. 
 
98 
 CHAP. II. 
 
 Ofthe':b'atdrL l Starr of the JIuman Body. 
 
 '<Vr>>-* 
 
 1. What the natural State of the 9. Of Smelling. 
 
 Body means. 10. Of Tasting. 
 
 2. Of tha Circulation of the 11. Of Feeling. 
 
 EJood- 12. Of Hunger and Thirst. 
 
 3. Of Respiration. 13. Of Sleep. 
 
 4. Of Chylificatioiu 14, Of local Motion. 
 
 5. Of Nutrition. 15. Of voluntary and involunta- 
 
 6. Of the Senses. ry Motions. 
 
 T. Of Sight. 1 6. Of the Stature of Man. , 
 
 & Of Hearing. 17. Of the Age of Man. 
 
 1. 1 HAT is the natural state of the human body 
 wherein all parts of it duly perform their natural ope- 
 rations. The chief of these are, the circulation of the 
 blood, respiration, chylification, nutrition, and mo- 
 tion. 
 
 2. That the blood circulates through the whole body 
 appears hence. Any of the arteries being tied with a 
 thu ad will swell and beat between the bandage and 
 the heart, but grow flaccid between the bandage and 
 the extremities of the body. And if the artery be cut 
 between the bandage and the heart, blood streams out 
 even to death; but if it be cut between the bandage 
 and extremities very little blood comes out. The vital 
 blood, therefore, flows from the heart, through the 
 arteries, toward the extremes of the body, and still 
 out of a wider part into a narrower, out of the trunk 
 into the branches. 
 
99 
 
 Any of the larger veins being tied with a thread, 
 swells between the extremes and the bandage, but 
 grows flaccid between the bandage and the heart ; if 
 opened in the former part it bleeds largely, if in the 
 latter scarce at rH. The blood therefore flows from 
 all the extreme*. thru.. 'M veins into the heart. ?jiu 
 still fi\. , ' ^ _ii^ .. * narts> c uJ vc* io the larger, 
 from the branches to the trunk. 
 
 Upon the whole, it is evident that all the arteries 
 are continually bringing the blood from the left ven- 
 tricle of the heart, through the trunks of the arteries 
 into their branches, and from thence to all parts of the 
 body : and on the contrary, that ail the veins (except 
 the vena ports) are continually bringing it back from 
 all parts of the body, through the small branches into 
 the larger, and thence through the trunks and vena 
 cava into the right ventricle of the heart ; so that the 
 \vhole blood passes through the heart once in five or six: 
 minutes. 
 
 It is certain that all the arteries and veins communi- 
 cate or open one into the other, because often from 
 one, and that a small artery, all the blood shall run 
 even unto death, not only out of the wounded limb, 
 but from the whole body. Of such fatal examples we 
 have a number ; from an inward artery of the nose, 
 from the gums, a finger, a tooth, a cutaneous pore en- 
 larged, from the lachrymal point, from the wound of 
 cupping on the skin, and even the bite of a leach. 
 There are, therefore, of course, open ways by which 
 the blood speedily tlows from the venal into the ar- 
 terial system, and the reverse. 
 
 Late writers have pursued the globules of blood to a 
 great length, and found several orders of them. The 
 large ones visible to the naked eye are globules of the 
 first order. Each of these is composed of six smaller^ 
 joined together in a very regular way, but sometimes 
 a red globule is seen loosening and breaking into these 
 compounding spherules, and sometimes one may per. 
 ceive these running together and beginning the compos 
 sition of a new red globule. These smaller spherules 
 
100 
 
 they call globules of the second order. But we are 
 not to stop here. There are in the blood a great many 
 particles six times less than these. Globules of the se- 
 corrd order are compounded of these smaller ones, 
 which therefore are globules of the third order. 
 
 Farther. There are innumerable blood vessels of 
 such smalluess, that none of the abovemeutioned 
 globules can pass them ; so that we cannot but suppose 
 still smaller globules. The diameter of some vessels is 
 less than the eighth part of the diameter of a red glo- 
 bule, so that the particles passing through them must 
 be above five hundred times less than those globules. 
 Nay, on a careful examination, we perceive vessels 
 narrower than the tenth part of the diameter of a red 
 globule, which consequently can transmit spherules no 
 greater than the thousandth part of a red globule. 
 
 On the whole then, each globule of the first order 
 is made up of six of the second; these of six of the 
 third, those of six of the fourth, these of six of the 
 fifth, and so on, And accordingly we find the globules 
 of the highest orders may be broken down into their 
 compounding particles. 
 
 The diameter ot a common red globule is about the 
 1938th part of an inch. The diameter of a globule of 
 the tenth order is less than the 400 3 000th part of an 
 inch. 
 
 Anatomists and physicians have generally determined 
 the quantity of blood in the human body to be between 
 fifteen and twenty-five pounds ; but Dr. Keil shews 
 from many instances of profuse haemorrhages, that a 
 far greater quantity must be allowed, otherwise the 
 patient could never have furnished, or at least survived 
 such evacuations, the least of which exceeded the 
 whole quantity of blood supposed to be in the body. 
 
 In reality the quantity oi blocd in a human body is 
 difficult to be determined. Bleeding to death,, the 
 usual method, can never shew what is its true quatiti. 
 ty ; because no animal can bleed longer than while 
 the great artery is full, which will require a longer or 
 a shorter time as the wouiided artery is smaller or 
 
101 
 
 greater ; and th great artery must always be the first 
 vessel that empties. 
 
 The only certain way of calculating is, to find what 
 proportion the cavities of tbe vessels, of which the 
 whole body is composed, bear to the thickness of the 
 coats. This in the veins and arteries may be exactly 
 found ; but in the other vessels we onty know the 
 quantity of fluid they contain by carefully evaporating 
 as much as possible. Thus the Doctor found the fluids 
 to be in the arteries as 17 to 1 ; in the veins as 15,6 to 
 1 ; in the bones as 1 to 1. The least of these propor- 
 tions shews the liquors to be one half of the weight of 
 the body ; and if a calculation be made on the propor- 
 tion of the blood in the arteries, also to their coats in a 
 body weighing 160 pounds, there will be found 100 
 pounds of blood or circulating fluid. 
 
 In a foetus the circulation is performed in a peculiar 
 manner. The septum, which separates the two ven- 
 tricles of the heart is pierced through with an aperture 
 called the foramen ovale, and the pulmonary artery, <i 
 Jittle after it has left the heart, sends out a tube into 
 the descending aorta, called the communicating canal. 
 When the foetus is born, the foramen ovale closes, and 
 that* canal dries up into a simple ligament. * 
 
 The foetus while in the womb receives little air. Its 
 lungs, therefore, cannot swell and subside, they con- 
 tinue almost at rest ; nor can they allow the blood to 
 circulate either in abundance or with ease. Nature, 
 therefore, has excused them from the passage of the 
 greatest part of the blood, and has contrived the fora* 
 men ovale, by which part of the blood of the vena 
 cava passes through the right ventricle into the left, 
 and by this means it is found as far on its journey as if 
 it had passed tho lungs : but this is not all, for that 
 blood of the cava which, missing the foramen ovale, 
 passes from the right auricle into the right ventricle, 
 being still too much to pass by the lungs, the commu- 
 nicant canal intercepts part of it, and pours it imme- 
 diately into the descending aorta. 
 
3. Respiration is performed by receiving the^air 
 info the lun*s, am! breathing it out alternately. In 
 the former, the cavity of the breast is enlarged by the 
 sinking of the diaphragm, and the erection of the ribs, 
 through the force of the muscles placid between them. 
 In the latter it is contracted, the diaphragm rising and 
 the ribs failing again. Whenever the cavity of the 
 breast is enlarged, the air by its weight naturally pre?* 
 ses into it, and mixing with the blood in the vesicle of 
 t-clurigs, makes it more fluid, globular, and fit for 
 motion. Air is likewise absolutely necessary in the 
 body, to counteract the pressure of the outward air. 
 
 But if the blood in the lungs of a foetus has not the 
 advantage of respiration, it receives a portion of air, 
 transmitted with its mother's blood by the umbilical 
 vessels, to be diffused through the body. This is quite 
 iroassary, as appears hence; tie the navel string very 
 tight, and the child dies like a man strangled. 
 
 One use of respiration is, to push the blood from the 
 r'ght to the left ventricle of the heart : hence it is, that 
 persons strangled so suddenly die, because with respi- 
 ration the circulation of the blood ceases. And this 
 is the true cause of the diastole of the heart ; the 
 weight of the incumbent atmosphere being the true an- 
 tagonist to all the muscles that serve both for inspira, 
 tion and the contraction of the heart. As in the ele- 
 vation of the ribs a passage is opened for the blood in. 
 to the lungs, so in the depression thereof, by the sub 
 sfciing of the lungs and compression of the blood-vessels 
 thereby, the blood is driven through the pulmonary 
 vein into the left ventricle of the heart. And this, to- 
 gether with the general compression of the body, by 
 the weight of the atmosphere, is that power which 
 causes the blood to mount in the veins, when the 
 force impressed on it by the heart is nearly spent, and 
 jwhich forces the heart ttself from its natural state of 
 contraction to that of dilatation. 
 
 - W;*en in an ordinary expiration, tl^e pressure on 
 the larynx is two ounces, the pressure on the whole 
 
103 
 
 internal substance of the lungs is 14412 pounds. So 
 vast is the extent of the surface of the vesicles, on 
 which it was necessary the blood should be spread in 
 the finest capillary vessels, that each globule of blood 
 might, as it were, immediately receive the whole force 
 of the air, and thereby be broken into smaller parts, 
 lit for secretion and circulation. 
 
 And hence we see the reason for the structure of 
 the lungs. 'For since all the blood is to pass through 
 them, in order to receive the effect of the air, and that 
 this could not be done unless it were diffused in very 
 small vessels ; it was necessary the surface on which 
 they were to be spread should be proportioned to their 
 number, and this is admirably well provided for by ttfe 
 fabric of the lungs. * 
 
 If the diameter of the trachea at the time of every 
 expiration were the same in all, aud the weight of the 
 air always equal, the pressure on the lungs would be 
 always the same. But as the difference between its 
 least and greatest gravity is no less than a tenth part of 
 the whole, that pressure's likewise greater by a tenth 
 p:*rt at some times than it is at others. 
 
 is a difference which the asthmatic must sent 
 sably feel, especially as they brea(he thicker, that is, 
 every expiration is performed in less time. In truth, 
 these feel a difference in the air, upon the greatest rise 
 and fall of the barometer, equal to above one third of 
 its pressure in ordinary breathing. 
 
 The alternate dilatation and contraction of the 
 thorax are so necessary to animal life, that there is no 
 animal without this or something analogous to it.. Fishes 
 and insects have no dilatable thorax ; but fishes have 
 gills which receive and expel the water alternately, 
 whereby the blood-vessels suffer the same alterations of 
 dimension as those in our lungs do ; and insects have 
 air-vessels distributed through the whole trunk of .their 
 bodies. By these they communicate with the external 
 air through several vent-holes, to which are fastened 
 so many wind-pipes which send branches to all parts j 
 and seem to accompany the blood-vessels all over the 
 14 
 
104 
 
 body, as they do in our lungs only. And hereby in 
 every inspiration the whole body is dilated, and in 
 every expiration compressed. 
 
 But may it wot be doubted whether the primary end 
 of respiration be not to supply the whole animal ma^ 
 chine with the ethereal fire, a particle of which is con- 
 nected with every particle of air? Js not this detached 
 from it by the action of the lungs, and thence commu- 
 nicated to every part of the body ? And is not this the 
 true vital flame, the original source of life and motion. 
 
 4. Chylification is preceded by digestion, which is 
 much illustrated by Mr. Papin's Digester. This is a 
 vessel wherein meat is put, with just as much water as 
 will fill it ; then the lid is screwed on so close as to ad- 
 mit of no external air. The meat herein is by the flame 
 of a small lamp, in six or eight minutes, brought to a 
 perfect pulp. In a few minutes mo're the hardest bones 
 are reduced to a jelly. No air entering, the succes- 
 sions caused by the air, enclosed in the flesh, resolve 
 the wfiole into one homogeneous body : it is just so in 
 digestion. In proportion to its heat the stomach does 
 the very same thing as the digester. 
 
 Add to this, that the muscular coat of the stomach 
 continually contracting and pressing its contents by its 
 peristaltic motion, occasions a more intimate mixture, 
 and works the more fluid parts through the pylorus 
 into the duodenum. Along the sides of this and the 
 other small intestines the lac teals are planted: into the 
 minute orifices whereof the chyle or finer part of the 
 mass is received. The lacteal veins of the first kind 
 discharge themselves into the glands of the basis of the 
 mesentery. The chyle is afterward received by the 
 lacteals of the second kind, and conveyed into glands 
 between the two tendons of the diaphragm, and hence 
 it is carried to the heart, where it mixes with the blood. 
 
 4 5. By the perpetual motion of the fluids, (especial. 
 }y in the minute vessels) as well as the constant 
 cation of the muscles, small particles are continually 
 
105 
 
 t 
 
 worn off from the solids of the body. The fluids like- 
 wise are continually diminishing; and hence every 
 animal body, by the very condition of its frame, is 
 liable to destruction. To prevent this, a restitution 
 must be made to the juices and solids of the body, 
 equal and similar to what is lost, and this we call nu. 
 trition. 
 
 It seems to be performed thus. The blood forcibly 
 thrown by the heart into the arteries, endeavours ta 
 go out every way through the pores. But these are 
 usually too small to give its particles a free passage : 
 they can only pass where any of the pores are open. 
 Here one will naturally follow another in a line, and 
 constitute a fibre or part of a fibre. When as much 
 is thus added to one end of the fibre, as is wasted at 
 the other, the body is nourished ; when more is added 
 than is wasted, we are said to grow. 
 
 We see then how absolutely necessary food is to re- 
 pair the constant decay of the body, so that few men 
 or women can live without it above five or six days ; 
 and yet the abstaining from it for a season has its use. 
 Indeed great is the efficacy of abstinence, both in pro- < 
 Jonging life beyond its usual period, and in the cure of 
 many stubborn disorders. 
 
 Lewis Cornaro, a nobleman of Venice, after all 
 other means had failed, so that his life was despaired 
 of at forty,' recovered and lived to near a hundred, by 
 mere dint of abstinence. 
 
 It is surprising to observe to what an age those an. 
 dent Christians lived, who retired from the fury of per. 
 socution, into the deserts of Arabia and Egypt. They 
 drank only water, and took no other food than twelve 
 ounces of bread in twenty. four hours. On this St. 
 Anthony lived 105 years, Epiphanius 115, Simon. 
 Stylites"ll2, and Romuald 120. 
 
 Among animals we see surprising instances of long 
 abstinence. Several species pass four, five, or six 
 months every year without eating or drinking. So 
 tortoises and dormice regularly retire at the season to 
 their respective cells, Some kinds get into ruins or the 
 
106 
 
 hollows of rocks ; others into clefts of trees; some 
 sleep in holes under the earth, others bury themselves 
 under water. 
 
 The serpent-kind bear abstinence to a miracle; 
 tattle-snakes will subsist many months without food. 
 Dr. Shaw saw two Egyptian serpents which had been 
 kept in a bottle five years, (oh a small quantity of 
 sand wherein they coiled themselves up) without any 
 sort of food. Yet when he saw them they had just 
 cast their skins, and were as lively as if just taken. 
 
 There have been instances even of men passing se- 
 veral months with scarce any sustenance. So Samuel 
 Chilton, ofTinsbury, near Bath, in the year 1693, 
 1694 ; and 1695, slept sometimes four months and 
 sometimes above six together, with very little food ; 
 and six weeks without any but a little tent, conveyed 
 with a quill through his teeth. 
 
 And since this, John Ferguson, of Kilmelford, in 
 Argyleshire, about eighteen years ago, overheated 
 himself, drank largely of cold water, and fell asleep. 
 He slept for four and twenty hours, and waked in a 
 high fever ; ever since his stomach loaths and can re- 
 fain no kind of aliment but water. A neighbouring 
 gentleman to whom his father is tenant, locked him up 
 for twenty days, supplying him daily with water, and 
 taking care that he should have no other food, but it 
 made no difference either in his look or strength. He 
 is now six and thirty years of age, of a fresh complex- 
 ion, and as strong as any common man. 
 
 Still more strange is the case of Gilbert Jackson. 
 About fifteen years of age, in February 1716. he was 
 seized with a violent fever ; it returned in April for 
 three weeks, and again on the 10th of June; he then 
 lost his speech, his stomach, and the use of his limbs, 
 and could not be persuaded either to eat or drink any 
 thing. May tue 17th, 1717, his fever left him, but 
 Still he was deprived of speech and of the use of his 
 Iimbs 3 and took no food whatever. June 30;h ; he 
 
107 
 
 was- seized with a fever again,. and the next day re* 
 covered his speech, but without eat'ng or drinking, or 
 the use of his limbs. On the 11 th of October he re. 
 covered his health, with the use of one of his legs, but 
 neither ate nor drank, only sometimes washed his 
 mouth with water. 
 
 On the 18th of June, 1718, the fever returned and 
 lasted till September. He then recovered and continued 
 in pretty good health, and was fresh coloured, but 
 took no kind of meat or drink. On the 9th of June, 
 1719, he was again seized with a severe fever : on the 
 10th, at night, his father prevailed on him to take a 
 spoonful of milk, boiled with oatmeal. It stuck so 
 long in his throat, that his parents feared he had beea 
 choaked ; but ever since that time he has taken food, 
 though so little, that a half-penny lo^f serves him for 
 eight days. All the time he fasted he had>no evacua- 
 tion, either by stool or urine, and it was fourteen days 
 after he began to eat before he had any. He is now 
 in pretty good health.. 
 
 I suppose such another instance as this has scarce 
 been known, in the memory of man. 
 
 It is not improbable that the air itself furnishes some 
 nutritive particles, it is certain there are substances 
 of all kinds floating in the atmosphere, and that an 
 animal body may be nourished hereby, is evident in the 
 case of vipers. These, if taken when first brought 
 forth, and kept from every thing but <ar, will yet grow 
 very considerably in a few days. 
 
 6, As without respiration and nutrition we cannot 
 live at all, so without Sense, life would be like death. 
 In every sensation there is, 1. An outward object. 2. 
 Its action in the organ of sense. 3.. A perception ot it 
 in the mind. Tiie action of the object on the organ is 
 by means of the nerves communicated to the brain ;\ 
 ajid then, not otherwise, the perception follows : but 
 how, none but He that made man can explain. 
 
 7. In Sight, the action on the organ is performed* 
 
108 
 
 just in the manner of that jn a camera obscura. The 
 rajs of light reaching from the surface of bodies to the 
 eye, variously penetrate the coats and humours of it, 
 , and paint on the bottom of the eye the images of the 
 things which \ve see. This is communicated by the 
 optic nerve to the brain, and then the perception, 
 which is properly Sight, follows : but the eye has 
 many advantages above a camera obscura ; not only as 
 it can be moved various ways by the help of its mus- 
 cles, but also as the pupil by the help of the iris, is 
 instantly either dilated or constringed according to the 
 degree of light. The eye likewise accommodates itself 
 to the various distances of the objects, the bottom of 
 the eye approaching to or receding from the crystalline 
 humour, as the object is nearer or farther off. 
 
 8. Sound is a tremulous motion of the air, produced 
 by the stroke or collision of bodies. Hearing is per- 
 formed in the following manner : the undulating air 
 enters the outward cavity of the ear, and then strikes 
 upon the drum, from which the motion is communicat- 
 ed to the little bones within, and the air contained in 
 the inner cavity ; this, by means of the nerve, con. 
 veys it to the brain, and then follows the perception 
 which we term Hearing. 
 
 9. The fine effluvia which spread every way from 
 cdorous bodies, ascending with the air into the nostrils, 
 variously twitch the filaments of the olfactory nerve?, 
 according to the variety of their natures. When this 
 motion is by those nerves communicated to the brain, 
 the perception follows which is called Smelling. 
 
 10. It was observed before, that the surface of the 
 Tongue is filled with small papillae, which are no other 
 than fine ramifications of the gustatory nerve. These 
 are variously moved by the particles of meat and 
 drink; and this motion being by that nerve transmitted 
 to the brain ? that perception arises which we stile 
 Tasting, 
 
109 
 
 11. The organ of Feeling is the skin in general, with 
 which innumerable nervous papillae are interwoven, 
 which being moved by the slightest touch of other 
 bodies, convey that motion to the brain. But these 
 papilla; abound in all the extremities, particularly the 
 palms of the hand and the tips of the fingers. And 
 hence it is that the sense of feeling is far more exquisite 
 in those than in other parts. 
 
 t 
 
 12. Nearly allied to the senses are the natural ap- 
 petites, particularly Hunger and Thirst. The usual 
 way of accounting for them is this: when the food, 
 now reduced to a pulp, is expressed out of the stomach, 
 it is of course contracted by its muscular coat, this 
 causes the inner coat to lie in folds, which by means of 
 the peristaltic motion, rubbing lightly on each other, 
 occasion the uneasy sensation which we term hunger. 
 
 , This is felt first in the upper orifice which is first eva- 
 cuated ; but as by degrees the rest of the contents are 
 expelled, this rubbing of the membranes on each other 
 spreads over the whole stomach, and renders our 
 hunger more urgent. 
 
 This uneasy sensation is increased by the acidity 
 which the blood in the arteries cf the stomach contracts 
 through long abstinence, its soft balsamic parts having 
 beei: all drawn off; likewise its velocity is considerably 
 augmented, when we have not eaten for some time. 
 
 Hence it is, that hunger, if it continues long, will 
 occasion a violent fever ; that young persons, and 
 those who labour hard, or are of a bilious constitution, 
 are soonest hungry; whereas those whose humours 
 are thick and viscid, are not so soon incommoded 
 therewith. 
 
 13. Hot vapours ascending from the stomach, and 
 drying thu % throat tind mouth, are supposed to be the 
 occasion of that uneasy sensation which we term 
 Thirst. 
 
 1 say, are supposed. For I apprehend nothing can 
 be known with any certainty upon the head. In like 
 
no 
 
 manner it is supposed that we are then awake when the 
 nerves are braced and filled with .animal spirits, and 
 that when they are unbraced and empty we sleep. But 
 who can give any satisfactory account of sleep ? Some 
 ascribe it to the stoppage of the nerves, some to the 
 quiescency, and others to a deficiency of the animal 
 spirifs. The truth is, we are ignorant of the whole 
 affair ; and no more understand sleep than we do 
 death. 
 
 But this we know, that during sleep several functions 
 are suspended, the organs of sense are at rest, the 
 muscles are quiescent, so that hardly any spirits flow 
 through them. The fibres of the nerves are little 
 changed, and an equilibrium obtains throughout* 
 There is no difference of pressure on the vessels, nor 
 of velocity in the humours, which circulate equally 
 through all the canals. Mean time, all disturbing 
 causes being at rest, the wasted humours are restored, 
 and the particles supplied, which were worn .oil' the 
 solids. 
 
 We may observe farther, that when the head is hot 
 and the feet cold, we cannot sleep; that perspiration* 
 is twice a& great while we. sleep as while we are awake; 
 that too much sleep makes the senses dull, the memory 
 weak, and the whole body listless; that sleep will for. 
 a considerable time supply the place of meat and drink ;. 
 that a foetus sleeps always, children much, youths 
 more than adults ? and. they than old men* 
 
 To speak a little more particularly. While^we are 
 awake there is a continual motion of the voluntary, 
 muscles, of the parts subservient to sense, and to the 
 affections, all which stimulate the nerves, blood-vessels^ 
 and heart. Thus the finer parts of the blood are con., 
 tinually wasted, whence weariness ensues; and if the 
 vigilance be continued^ a feverish heat and sensible 
 loss of strength. 
 
 As the night advances, a weight falls on the large, 
 muscles and their tendons, and the mind becomes 
 heavy. The powers th lit hold the body erect, begin 
 to shrink from their oice ; the eye-lids clcse> the 
 
Ill 
 
 head nods, and we take less notice of outward ob- 
 jects, till at length all the thoughts are iii confusion, 
 and a sort of delirium ensues, from whence there is 
 a transition to sleep, not known to us. This is has. 
 tened by darkness, composure of mind, and absence 
 of irritation from all parts of the body. 
 
 Again, whatever weakens the natural powers, in- 
 clines to and increases sleep j such as loss of blood, 
 cooling medicines, yea the cold of the external air. 
 Add to these, whatever calls off the quantity of 
 blood flowing to the heart, as warm bathing of the 
 feet, a plentiful ingestion of food into the stomach : 
 likewise whatever lessens the motions of the spirits, 
 whether in the brain or stomach, heart, or arteries 
 On the contrary, some hot medicines induce sleep, 
 by causing a greater afflux of blood to the brain. 
 The same effect have some fevers, as also fatness, and 
 whatever else retards the venal blood. In all these 
 eases, the blood collected in the head compresses the 
 brain, so as to lessen the course of the spirits into the 
 nerves. 
 
 Sleepiness is likewise produced by any compres- 
 sion of the brain, whether from extravasated blood, 
 a depressed part of some bones, or a collection of se- 
 rous water within the ventricles. 
 
 Sleep therefore sometimes rises from a defect of the 
 spirits: always from a collapsing of the nervous 
 fibres, through which the spirits pass from their foun. 
 tain to all parts of the body. 
 
 It is hindered by intense thought, pain of body, 
 and strong emotions of mind : all which urge the 
 spirits on, and prevent the nervous fibres from col- 
 lapsing. 
 
 In sleep, the heart is gradually restored from its 
 quick and almost feverish pulsation, to its slow and 
 calm motion, the breathing is slower and smaller, the 
 motion of the stomach and intestines, the digestion 
 of the aliments, and the progression of the faeces are 
 diminished. At the same time the thinner juices 
 move more slowly, while the more gross are called 
 
112 
 
 1 together, the fat is accumulated in its cells, and the 
 nutritive particles adhere more plentifully to the in- 
 ner surfaces of the small vessels, and the sides of the 
 fibres. Thus while the spirits are secreted with a less 
 consumption, they are by degrees accumulated in the 
 brain, so as to distend and fill the collapsed nerves* 
 And then we awake out of sleep. 
 
 Let us consider in another view these remarkable 
 incidents of our frame, sleep and dreams ; so remark- 
 able, that they are a kind of experimental mystery, 
 a standing miracle. Behold the most vigorous con- 
 stitution, when resigned to the slumbers of the night. 
 Its activity is oppressed with indolence, its strength 
 suffers a temporary annihilation. The nerves are 
 like a bow unstrung, the whole animal like a motion- 
 less log. Behold a person of the most delicate sen- 
 sations and amiable disposition. His eyes, if wide 
 open, discern no light, distinguish no objects. His 
 ears, with the organs" unimpaired, perceive not the 
 sounds that are rouud about them. The exquisitely 
 fine sense of feeling is overwhelmed with an utter stu- 
 pefaction. Where are his social affections ? He 
 knows not the father that begat him, the friend that 
 is as his own souk Behold the most ingenious scho- 
 lar, whose judgment traces the most intricate scien. 
 ces, whose taste relishes all the beauties of composi- 
 tion. The thinking faculties are unhinged, and in- 
 stead of close connected reasonings, there is nothing 
 but a disjointed huddle of absurd ideas. Instead of 
 well-digested principles, nothing but a disorderly jum- 
 ble of crude conceptions. 
 
 Yet not sooner does he awake, than he is possessed 
 of all his former endowments His sinews aie braced 
 and fit for action, his senses alert antl keen. The 
 frozen affections melt with tenderness : the romantic 
 visionary is again the master of leason. And (what is 
 beyond measure surprising) the intoxicated mind dcx s 
 not work itself sober by slow degrees ; but in trie 
 twinkling of an eye, is possessed of all its faculties ! 
 \\'hy does not the numbness^ which seized the animal 
 
113 
 
 powers, chain the limbs perpetually? Why does not 
 the stupor, that deadens all the senses, hold fast its 
 possession ? When the thoughts are once disadjusted 
 why are they not always in confusion? How is it> 
 that they are rallied in a moment, and reduced fro^ 
 the wildest irregularity to the most orderly array ? 
 From an inactivity resembling death, and from extra- 
 vagancies little differing from madness, how suddenly 
 is the body restored to vigour and agility ? How in- 
 stantaneously is the mind re-established in sedatenesa 
 and harmony? Surely this is the Lord's doing. And 
 it is marvellous in our eyes. 
 
 14. That all motion is performed by means of the 
 muscles, all men are now agreed. And it is supposed 
 that the motions of the muscles proceed from the 
 influx of the animal spirits ; which, entering them by 
 means of the nerves, swell and shorten the belly of 
 the muscle, and thereby draw the extremities together 
 and move the parts connected therewith. But a!l this 
 likewise is mere conjecture. God only knows his 
 own work* 
 
 \ 
 
 15. That some motions are voluntary, and some 
 are not, is another amazing proof of the Creator's 
 wisdom. Those which are absolutely necessary for 
 the conservation of the machine, as the beating of the 
 pulse, and the circulation of the blood, go on by a 
 kind of mechanic law, which no way depends upon 
 our will ; while a thousand other motions begin and 
 end, by a single act of our will, when we please. But 
 how this bodily motion is connected with that act 
 of our mind, who is able to explain ? 
 
 16. There is a manifest congruity between the sta. 
 ture of man, and his age, during tho time of his 
 growth. And as five feet and a half may be thought 
 the ordinary height of man, so may seventy years 
 the ordinary period of his life. Yet some vastly ex. 
 ceed in both respects. And as we know Thomas 
 
114 
 
 Parre and Henry Jenkins complcated double that 
 usual term of life, so \ve have no reason to question 
 that some have doubled the common stature of man* 
 Waiter Parsons, King James the First's porter, was 
 full seven feet, seven inches high. Mr. Hay saw a 
 man at Bruges, who was eight feet and a half ; all 
 his limbs well shaped, and his strength proportion- 
 able. Becanus says he saw a youth almost nine feet 
 high ; a man near ten, and a woman quite ten feet, 
 Pliny mentions several -men of the same height in his 
 age. Yea, Theveuot tells us that he met a Spanish 
 merchant on the coast of Afric, who had in a colter 
 the skull and bones of an American giant, which 
 he brought with him from that country, who was 
 eleven feet, five inches in height, and died in the year 
 1559. 
 
 From these warrantable accounts we learn thiit 
 there have been men 11 or 12 feet high, -which equals 
 if not exceeds, the stature of the tallest giant men. 
 tioned in scripture. The height of Goliah was but 
 six cubits and a span, which is only nine feet, nine 
 inches. Indeed the bedstead of Og, the king of Ha- 
 san is said to have been nine cubits in length. But 
 his bed must have been longer than his body ; we may 
 fairly allow nine inches above his head, and as mucit 
 below his feet. And making this deduction, he was 
 not above twelve feet high : much of the same stature 
 with tl e giant, whose forehead bone, is still kept in 
 the medicine-school at Ley den. 
 
 Is this deviation from the common stature of maa- 
 by largeness, more remarkable than its opposite? The 
 deviation from it by littleness, which has been observ. 
 ed in some instances ? Such was the dwarf, who lived 
 for several years in the palace of the king of Poland. 
 His parents were healthy,strong peasants, w ho am'rmed r 
 that at his birth he weighed scarce a pound and a 
 quarter, that he was presented on a plats to be bap- 
 tized, and fora long time had a wooden shoe for his 
 bed. When 18 months old, he could speak somt? 
 words, when two years old, he., could walk .almost 
 
115 
 
 without help. His shoes were then just an inch and 
 a half long. When he was six years of age, the 
 king of Poland gave him the name of Bebe, and kept 
 him in his palace. His height was then fifteen inches, 
 and he weighed thirteen pounds. He was in perfect 
 health, his person was agreeable and well-propor- 
 tioned ; but there wus little appearance of understand- 
 ing. He had no sense of religion, was incapable of 
 reasoning, and could learn neither music nor danc- 
 ing. Yet he was susceptible of passions in a high 
 degree, anger and jealousy in particular. When six- 
 teen years old, he was 29 inches high, being still 
 healthy and well proportioned, but from that time 
 his health declined ; yet he grew four inches in the 
 four succeeding years. At 21 he was shrunk and 
 decrepit ; and at 22 it was with difficulty he could 
 walk a hundred steps. In the 23d year he fell into 
 a kind of lethargy, and in a few days died, as if it 
 were of old age. 
 
 17. The two most eminent instances of longevity 
 in England were Thomas Par re and Henry Jenkins, 
 Thomas Parre was a poor countryman of Shrop- 
 shire^ whence he was brought up to London, by 
 Thomas, Earl of Arundel. At the age of 120 he mar- 
 ^ried a \vidow 5 at 130 he could do any husbandry. work, 
 eveii threshing of corn, although soon after, his sight 
 began to fail ; nor had he the use of his memory, or 
 but in a small degree, for several years before he died: 
 but he retained his hearing and apprehension to the 
 last. He used to eat often, by day and by night, 
 of milk, old cheese, with coarse bread, whey and 
 small beer. He died at the age of a hundred and fifty- 
 two years and nine months. He might have lived much 
 longer, but coming out of a clear, thin, and free air 
 to London, and from a plain country diet, to that of 
 a splendid family, where he fed high, and drank the 
 best wines, the natural functions were overcharged^ 
 and death could not but soon ensue. 
 
 44 Henry Jenkins calling at my house I asked how 
 
116 
 
 old he was ? "He paused and said, u about 162 or 
 163," I asked what was the first public transaction 
 he remembered ? He said, a the battle of Fiowden- 
 field, being then 11 or 12 years old." 
 
 For many years he was a fisherman, and used to 
 wade in the streams. After he was a hundred years 
 old, he frequently swam in the rivers. The latter 
 part of his life, he was obliged to beg. He died at 
 Ellerton upon Swale, in Yorkshire, Dvic. 8, 1670 : 
 having lived (supposing him to have been 12 years 
 old, at the battle of Flowden. field, which was fought 
 Sept. the 9th, 1513) a hundred and sixty. nine years 
 that is sixteen longer than Thomas Parre, 
 
117 
 
 CHAP. III. 
 
 Of the preternatural State of the Human 
 
 1. What the preternatural state of the Body means* 
 
 2. The variety of Diseases. 
 
 3. Reduced to three classes : those of the Solids. 
 
 4. Those of the Fluids, particularly the Blood* 
 
 5. Those of the Animal Spirits, 
 
 6. The remote causes of Diseases. 
 
 7. Of Fevers. 
 
 8. The way to preserve Health. 
 
 9. Of Life and Death. 
 
 ..Wi 
 
 HEN the structure or disposition of the 
 parts of the body is so disturbed and disordered, 
 that the natural operations are no longer performed, 
 or not in the manner as they ought : tfifis is a preterna. 
 tural state of the body, otherwise termed a disease. 
 
 2. There cannot but be a great variety of diseases, 
 whether we consider the manner, wherein that 
 structure or disposition is disturbed, the part wherein 
 each disease has its seat, or the various effects and 
 circumstances of them. Somife diseases only hurt the 
 use of the parts; some wholly destroy it. Some affect 
 this or that part ; others the whole body. Somedis* 
 order the body, some the mind ; and others both mind 
 and body. 
 
 3. But they are all reducible to three classes, those 
 of the solids, of the fluids, and of both. The solid 
 
118 
 
 parts may be bruised, wounded, swelled^ or removed 
 out of their natural place. 
 
 It is a wonderful provision which nature makes in 
 one of the most dreadful calamities incident to the 
 solids. When a bone is broken, let it only be replaced 
 and preserved in that situation, and nature does the 
 rest, by supplying the divided parts with a callus- 
 
 This oozes out from the small arteries and 
 fibres of the divided -parts, in form of a jelly, and 
 soon fills up the cavities between them. It soon 
 grows cartilaginous, afterwards bony, and joins the 
 fractured parts so firmly, that the bone will be more 
 easily broken in any other part than in that. 
 
 A callus of a different kind is formed on our hands 
 and feet. This is composed of several layers of 
 particles loosely connected. These, if stepped in fair 
 water easily separate, and then are found, if viewed 
 through a microscope, to be all of one shape, re- 
 sembling that of a weaver's shuttle, broad in the 
 middle, and pointed at each end. Being steeped 
 again, they divide into a great number of smaller par- 
 ticles, allot' the same figure with the first. 
 
 The thickness of the skin in the hands of those 
 who labour hard, is wholly owing to vast numbers 
 of these particles, which combine together, but so 
 loosely that they are easily separated on moistening. 
 That thick skin is composed of several layers of dif- 
 ferent thickness, which have been added from time to 
 . - time, each of which layers is only a congeries of 
 almost an infinity ol these particles. 
 
 But people who labour ever so hard, will have little 
 callus on their hands if they wash them often. .The 
 washing the hands daily rubs off' a great quantity of 
 these scales. Indeed it is surprising to see how large a 
 quantity of them is daily thrown off from our hands 
 and feet,though from no other part of the body. We 
 may learn from this, the great bounty of nature, in 
 so carefully supplying the parts designed for walking 
 or labour, with an additional matter for their de 
 fence, which is not in any other part of the body. 
 
119 
 
 4. The diseases of the fluids lie chiefly in the 
 blood, when it is either too thick and sizy, whereby 
 Us motion becomes too languid and slow, whence 
 spring the diseases owing to obstruction : or too thin. 
 From the former cause arise leprosies, scirrhws, le- 
 thargies, melancholy, hysteric affections: and. if at 
 the same time it abounds in acid salts, the sharp points 
 of these tear the tender fibresj and occasion the scur- 
 vy, king's evil, consumption, with a whole train of 
 painful distempers. Fevers frequently arise from the 
 too great thinness in the blood. 
 
 The plague is not an European disease. It is pro- 
 perly a disease of Asia, where it is epidemical, and 
 is never known elsewhere, but, by importation from 
 thence. The small- pox also is an exotic disease, 
 and was not known in Europe, or even Asia-minor, 
 till a spice. trade was opened by the later princes of 
 Egypt, to the remotest part of the East Indies. 
 Thence it originally came,and there it rages at this day. 
 
 5. As to the diseases ascribed to the animal spi- 
 rits, some are thought to proceed from the suppres- 
 sion or diminution of their motion, as apoplexies and 
 palsies, some from their excessive or irregular motion, 
 as madness, convulsions, epilepsies. 
 
 I know not whether the gentlemen of the faculty 
 would not term the following, u a disease of the ani- 
 mal spirits." Donald Monro ? at Strathbogi,in Scotland, 
 imitates unawares ail the motions of those he is with: 
 he is a little slender, old man, and was subject to this 
 infirmity from his infancy. He is loath to have it 
 observed, and therefore casts down his eyes in the 
 streets, and turns them aside when in company. We 
 had made several trials before he perceived it, and af- 
 terward had much a-dp to make him stay. He imi- 
 tated not only our scratching our heads,but the wring- 
 ing our hands, and every other motion. We needed 
 not to persuade him to be covered ; for he still co- 
 vered or uncovered as we did, and all so exactly, and 
 
120 
 
 yet with such a natural and unaffected air, that none 
 could suspect he did it designedly. When we held 
 both his hands, and caused another to make such mo- 
 tions, he struggled to get free. But when we would 
 have known more particularly, how he found him. 
 self affected, he would only give us this simple an- 
 swer, That u it rered his heart and his brain. 
 
 But to what class shall we refer the disease of Anil 
 Jackson ? She was born at Waterford, of English 
 parents, both said to be sound and healthy, and from 
 three years old, had horns growing on various parts 
 of her body, she is now thirteen or fourteen, the 
 horns grow chiefly about thejoints ; they are fasten- 
 ed to the skin like warts, and about the roots resem- 
 *ble them much in substance, but toward the end are 
 much harder. At the end of each finger and toe is 
 one, as long as the finger or toe itself, rising a little 
 between the nail and flesh, and bending again like a 
 turkey's claw. On the joints of each finger and toe 
 are smaller ones, which sometimes fall off, but others 
 come in their place. Round her knees and elbows 
 are many ; two in particular at each elbow, which 
 twist like rams-horns, at each ear grows one, yet she 
 cats and drinks heartily, sleeps soundly, aod per- 
 forms all the offices of nature, like other healthy per. 
 sons. 
 
 6. Such are the proximate causes of diseases. As 
 to the remote, the chief are these, 1. Intemperance 
 in meat or drink, either with regard to the quantity 
 or quality. 2. Want of exercise, or excess therein. 
 3. Immoderate sleep or watching. 4. Unwholesome 
 air. 5. The diminution of some natural evacuation. 
 6. Irregular passions. All or any of these affect 
 the temperature and motion of the blood and spirits. 
 
 7. But it can scarce be cbivceived, after all that has 
 been said and wrote, on almost every subject, how 
 Very little is known to this day ? concerning the causes 
 
121 
 
 of diseases. In most cases the most skilful phy. 
 sieians acknowledge they have nothing but conjec- 
 tures to offer. We may give a specimen with re- 
 gard to fevers, the most common of all distempers. 
 These are of various kinds : at present we will speak 
 of intermitting fevers only. Most of these agree in 
 the following symptoms. During the approach of 
 the fit, cold and shivering seize the body, with a 
 small and slow pulse. Heat succeeds, with a quick, 
 strong, hard pulse, followed by sweat and a softer 
 pulse. These fits return at stated times. 
 
 It is supposed, that these changes in the blood 
 arise from some foreign matter mixed with it, which it 
 cannot readily assimilate, and which therefore must' 
 in some measure hinder its motion: perhaps because the 
 particles of it are too large, too long, or branching out. 
 When the circulation is hindered or retarded, chilness 
 naturally follows. And if these particles, sticking in 
 the finer passages are pressed on by the affluent blood, 
 this will occasion both a shock and tremor of the 
 muscles, and make the pulse more weak and slow. 
 But when they are at length broken and comminuted 
 by the continued afflux of the blood, it will flow 
 more violently, and of course occasion heat> which, 
 driving the blood to the surface of the body, many 
 of its thinner particles will burst through the pores, 
 in the form of sweat. As to the fevers returning at 
 stated times, it is supposed, the peccant matter is ge. 
 nerated from time to time, and mingled with the 
 blood afresh, whence the same symptoms of course 
 return, and that with more or less violence, as more 
 or less of that matter is generated. And as this is 
 done more swiftly or slowly, the fever returns in one, 
 two, or three days. But all this is mere conjecture. 
 It may be so : and it may not. So that though we 
 may guess much, we know nothing about it. 
 
 8. It is sufficient for us to know how we may avoid 
 diseases, whether we can account for them or not. 
 To this end, we should avoid whatever in meat, drink, 
 
 TOL. I. G 
 
122 
 
 motion, or rest, is likely to produce any considerable 
 change in the blood. The body likewise should be 
 as far as possible accustomed to bear some change of 
 food, air, and other externals, that if we should at any 
 time be constrained to make such a change, no ill con- 
 sequence may ensue. But no precise rule can be 
 laid down, which will suit all constitutions. Every 
 man must consult his own reason and experience, and 
 carefully follow them. 
 
 A most unaccountable method of removing many 
 diseases, was that of the famous Mr. Greatrix. " I 
 give you nothing concerning him, says Mr. Boyle, but 
 from eye-witnesses. My own brother some time since 
 was seized with a violent pain in his head and back. 
 Mr. Greatrix coming by accident to our house, gave 
 present ease to his head by stroking it. He then 
 stroked his back, the pain immediately fled to his 
 ri^ht thigh. He pursued it with his hand to the 
 knee, ankle, foot, toe, then he stroked this, and it 
 was gonet 
 
 " My uncle's daughter was seized with a pain in her 
 knees, which occasioned a white swelling. She tried 
 many remedies without effect, for six or seven years. 
 Mr. Greatrix then coming to Dublin, my aunt brought 
 her to him. He stroked her knees, and the pain fled 
 downward from his hands till he drove it out of her 
 toes. And in a little time the white swelling went 
 away. 
 
 41 I had an acquaintance, who after a fever was very 
 deaf, and had a violent pain in her ears. Mr. Great- 
 xix put some spittle into her ears and rubbed them, 
 which cured both the pain and deafness. 
 
 u Another told me, that when a child she was ex. 
 tremt ly troubled with the king's tvil. She tried many 
 icmedies in vain ; but Mr. Greatrix stroked and per- 
 fectly cured her. A smith near us had two daughters 
 troubled with the same distemper. One of these 
 had a running sore in the thigh, the other in the arm 
 
123 
 
 he cured them both. He cured ail kinds of hysteric 
 iits. He likewise cured the falling sickness, and with- 
 out any relapse, provided he could see the patient in 
 three or four fits." 
 
 9. As long as the soul and body are united, amaa 
 is said to be alive. But it is extremely difficult to de- 
 termine the precise time at which life ceases, or what 
 that is, which is absolutely necessary to the continu- 
 ance of it. Is respiration ? But when this is entirely 
 ceased, as is the case in a person strangled, blow 
 strongly into the lungs, and they play again : which 
 shews he was not dead before. Is the beating of the 
 heart ? But when this also is ceased, in the foremen, 
 tioned case, take the same method, and when the 
 lungs begin to play, the heart begins to beat anew. 
 Is the circulation of the blood ? But persons drown- 
 ed who have been so long under water, as to have no 
 pulse remaining in any artery, and consequently no 
 circulation, have recovered by the use of proper means 
 and lived many years after. Is the fluidity of the 
 blood ? Nay, but it is a common thing in Sweden to 
 recover to life one who has been twenty, four hours 
 under water ; and who not only has no pulse, but is 
 as stiff all over, as any dead corpse can be. What 
 then is death ? Undoubtedly it is the separation of 
 the soul and body. But there are many cases where- 
 in none but God can tell the moment wherein they 
 separate. 
 
 Many who seem to be dead, may be recovered. 
 
 - A person suffocated by the steam of coals, set 
 
 on fire in the pit, fell down as dead. He lay be- 
 tween half an hour and three quarters and was then 
 drawn up, his eyes staring, his mouth gaping, his 
 skin cold, not the least breathing being perceivable, 
 nor the least pulse either in his heart or arteries. 
 
 A surgeon applied his mouth to that of the patient 
 and by blowing strongly, holding the nostrils at tho 
 same time, raised the chest by his breath. ImuiedU 
 G 2 
 
ately he felt six or seven quick beats of the heart , 
 the lungs began to play, and soon after the pulse 
 was felt in the arteries. He then opened a vein, 
 which at first bled drop by drop, but in a while bled 
 freely. Mean time he caused him to be pulled and 
 rubbed. In an hour he began to come to himself, in 
 four hqurs walked home; and in four days returned 
 to his work. 
 
 Wherever the solids are whole, and their tone un- 
 impaired, where the juices are not corrupted, where 
 there is the least remains of animal heat, it would be 
 wrong not to try this experiment. This takes in a 
 few diseases, and many accidents. Among the first 
 are many that cause sudden deaths, as apoplexies and 
 fits of various kinds. In many of these it might be 
 of use to apply this method, and in various casual- 
 ties, such as suffocations from the damps of mines and 
 coal. pits, the condensed air of long unopened wells ; 
 the noxious vapours of fermentrng liquors received 
 from a narrow vent, the steain of burning charcoal, 
 arsenical effluvia, or those of* sulphureous mineral 
 acids. And perhaps those who seem to be struck 
 dead by lightning, or any violent agitation of the pas- 
 sions, as joy, fear, anger, surprise, might frequently 
 be recovered by this simple process* 
 
 The animal machine is like a clock : the wheels 
 whereof may be in ever so good order, the mechanism 
 compleat in every part, and wound up to <he full 
 pitch, yet without some impulse communicated to the 
 pendulum, the whole continues motionless. 
 
 Thus in these accidents, the solids are whole and 
 e^ :ic, and the juices no otherwise vitiated, than by a 
 short stagnation, from the quiescence of that moving 
 something, which enables matter in animated bodies, 
 to overcome the resistance of the medium it acts in. 
 Inflating the lungs, and thus communicating motion 
 to the heart, like giving the first vibration to a pen- 
 dulum ; enables this something to resume the govern* 
 
meat of the fabric, and actuate its organs afresh, 
 It has been suggested, that "a pair of bellows 
 might be applied, better than a man's mouth. " But, 
 I. Bellows may not be at hand; 2. The lungs of 
 one man may safely bear as great a force, as the 
 lungs of another can exert, which by the bellows can- 
 not always be determined : 3. The warmth and mois. 
 tare of the breath may likewise be of use. 
 
 But what is properly a natural death ? From the very 
 birth, every vessel in the human body grows stiffer 
 and stiffer bythe adhesioriof more and more earthy par- 
 ticles to its inner surface. Not only solid food sup- 
 plies it with these, but every fluidthat circulates through 
 it. Hereby more and more of the small vessels are 
 so filled up, as to be no longer pervious. In pro- 
 portion, the coats of the larger vessels grow; harder, 
 and their cavities narrower. Hence the dryness arid 
 Stiffness of all the parts, which are observable in old 
 age. By this means, more and more of the vessels 
 are destroyed, the finer fluids secerned in less quan- 
 tity, the concoctions weakened, and the reparation of 
 the decayed and injured parts prevented. So that 
 only the coarser juices continue to run slowly through 
 the larger vessels. Soon these also not only become 
 narrow, but stiff, bony, and imelastic,. till even the 
 great artery having lost its spring, can propel the 
 blood no longer. .And then follows death by -old age, 
 which is a purely natural death. But this is a very 
 rare case, it is seldom life is so long protracted, the 
 lamp of life being easily blown out, when it burns 
 with so feeble a ilame. So that the a^e oi man, sci- 
 doin exceeds three scoreyears and ten before dust re . 
 turns to dust. 
 
 The term of life can be prolonged but a very little 
 time, by any art we can use. A few only have lived 
 beyond the ordinary duration ot human existence ; 
 such as Parre and Jenkins : yet these men used no 
 particular arts to prolong life; on the contrary, they 
 ~G 3 
 
were peasants, accustomed to the greatest fatigues, 
 and who had no settled ruies. Indeed, if we consider 
 that the European, the Negro, the Chinese, and the 
 American, the civilized man, and the savage, the rich 
 and the poor, the inhabitant of the city, and of the 
 country, though all so different in other respects, are 
 yet entirely similar in the period allotted them for 
 living ; if we consider that neither the difference of 
 race, of climate, of nourishment, of convenience, or 
 of soil, makes any difference in the term of life: if 
 we consider that those men, who live upon raw flesh, 
 or dried fishes, upon sage or rice, upon cassava, or 
 upon roots, nevertheless live as long as those who 
 are fed upon bread and meat ; we shall readily ac- 
 knowledge, that the duration of life depends neither 
 upon habit, customs, nor the quantity of food, and 
 that nothing can change the laws of that mechanism, 
 which regulates the number of our years. 
 
 If there be any difference in the different period of 
 man's existence, it ought principally to be ascribed to 
 the quality of the air. It has been observed, that in 
 elevated situations there have been found more old 
 people than in those that were low. The mountains 
 of Scotland, Wales, Auvergne, and Switzerland, have 
 furnished more instances of extreme old age, than the 
 plains of Holland, Flanders^ Germany, or Poland, 
 But, in general, the duration of life is nearly the same 
 in mof-t countries. Man, if not cut off by accidental 
 diseases, is generally found to live ninety or a hundred 
 years. Our ancestors did not live beyond that 
 date ; and since the time of D.ivid this term has had 
 but little alteration. 
 
 If we be asked how, in the beginning, men lived so> 
 much longer than at present, and by what means their 
 lives were extended to nine hundred and thirty, or even 
 wine hundred and sixty years, it j may be answered, 
 that the productions of the earth, upon which they fed 
 might be of a different nature at that time, than what 
 they are at present. But perhaps it is better to say, 
 that the term was abridged by divine command^ iii 
 
127 
 
 order to keep the earth from being over. stocked wit?t 
 human inhabitants ; since, if every person were now 
 to live and generate for nine hundred years, mankind 
 would be increased to such a degree, that there would 
 be no room for subsistence: so that the plan of pro- 
 vidence would be altered; which is seen not to pro- 
 duce life, without providing a proper supply ! 
 
 But to whatever extent life may be prolonged, or 
 however some may have delayed the effects of age, 
 death is the certain goal to which we are all hasten, 
 ing. All the causes of decay, which have been men. 
 tioned, contribute to bring on this dreadful dissolu- 
 tion. IIo v wever, nature approaches to this awful 
 period, by slow and imperceptible degrees, life is 
 consuming day after day, and some one of our fa^ 
 cullies, or vital principles, is every hour dying before 
 the rest : so that death is only the last shade in the 
 picture : and it is probable, that man suffers a great- 
 er change in going from youth to age, than from age 
 into the grave. When we first begin to live, our lives 
 may scarcely be said to be our own : as the child 
 grows, life increases in the same proportion, and 
 is at its height in the prime, of manhood. But as 
 soon as the body begins to decrease, life decreases 
 also ; for as the human frame diminishes, and its 
 juices circulate in smaller quantity, life diminishes and 
 circulates with less vigour ; so that as we begin to 
 live by degrees, we begin to die in the same manner. 
 Why then should we fear death, if our lives have 
 been such as not to make eternity dreadful? Why 
 should we fear that moment which is prepared by a 
 thousand other moments of the same kind, the first 
 pangs of sickness being probably greater than the 
 last struggles of departure. Death, in most persons, 
 is as calmly endured, as the disorder that brings it 
 on. If we enquire, from those, whose business it is 
 to attend the sick, and the dying, we shall find, that, 
 except in a very few acute cases, where the patient 
 dies in agonies, the greatest number die quietly, and 
 seemingly without pain. And even the agonies of 
 Q 4 
 
128 
 
 tlie former, rather terrify the spectators, than tor- 
 taent the patient, for how many have we seen, who 
 have been accidentally relieved from this extremity* 
 and yet had no memory of what they then endured ? 
 In fact, they had ceased to live, during that time 
 when they ceased to have sensation ; and their pains 
 were only those of which they had an idea. 
 
 The greatest number of mankind die, therefore^ 
 without sensation : and of those few that still pre- 
 serve their faculties to the last moment, there is scarce 
 one that dors not also preserve the hopes of still 
 out-living his disorder. Nature, for the happiness of 
 man, has rendered this sentiment stronger than his 
 reason. A person dying of an incurable disorder^ 
 which he must know to be so by frequent examples 
 of his case ; which he perceives to be so, by the 
 inquietude of all around him ; by the tears of his 
 friends, and the departure, or the face of the physu 
 cian, is, nevertheless, still in hopes of getting over 
 it. His interest is so great, that he only attends to 
 his own representations; the judgment of others is 
 considered as a hasty conclusion; and while death 
 every moment makes new inroads upon his constitu- 
 tion, and destroys life in some part ; hope still seems 
 10 escape the universal ruin, and is the last that sub. 
 ctitfi to the blow. 
 
 Death, therefore, is r.ot the terrible thing which 
 we suppose it to be. It is a spectre which frights us 
 at a distance, but which disappears when we come 'to 
 approach it more closely. Our ideas of its terrors are 
 conceived in prejudice, and dressed up by fancy ; 
 we regard it not only as the greatest misfortune, but 
 as also an evil accompanied with the most excruciating 
 -tortures : we have even increased our apprehensions, 
 by reasoning on the extent of our sufferings. It must 
 be dreadful, say some, since it is sufficient to separate 
 the soul from the body ; it must be long, since our 
 sufferings are proportioned to the succession of our 
 ideas ; and these being painful, must succeed each 
 other with extreme rapidity. In this manner false 
 
\m 
 
 philosophy labours to augment the miseries of our 
 nature, and (o aggravate that period, which nature 
 has kindly covered with insensibility. Neither the 
 mind, nor the body, can suffer these calamities ; the 
 mind is, at that time, mostly without ideas, and the 
 body too much enfeebled, to be capable of perceiving 
 its pain. A very acute pain produces either death, 
 or fainting, which is a state similar to death : the body 
 can suffer but to a certain degree ; if the torture be. 
 comes excessive^ it destroys itself ; and the mind 
 ceases to perceive, when the body can no longer en- 
 dure. 
 
 In this manner, excessive pain admits of no reflec- 
 tion ; and wherever there are any signs of it, we may 
 be sure, that the sufferings of thepatientare no greater 
 than what we ourselves may have remembered to en- 
 dure. 
 
 But, in the article of death, we have many instances 
 in which the dying person has shewn, that every re- 
 iiection that pre-supposes an absence of great pain, 
 and, consequently that pang which ends life, cannot 
 even be so great as those which have preceded. Thus, 
 when Charles XII. was shot at the siege of Freder- 
 ickshal, he was seen to clap his hand on the hilt of his 
 sword ; and although the blow was great enough to 
 terminate one of the boldest and bravest lives in the 
 world, yet it was not painful enough to destroy re- 
 flection. He perceived himself attacked, he reflected 
 that he ought to defend himself, and his body obeyed 
 the impulse of his mind, even in the last extremity. 
 Thus it is the prejudice of persons in health, and not 
 the body in pain, that makes us suffer from the ap- 
 proach of death : we have all our lives, contracted a 
 habit of making out excessive pleasures and pains ; 
 and nothing but repeated experience shews us, how 
 seldom the one can be suffered, or the other enjoyed 
 to the utmost. 
 
 If there be any thing necessary to confirm what we 
 havo said, concerning the gradual cessation of life, 
 or the insensible approaches of our end, nothing can, 
 G 5 
 
130 
 
 more effectually prove it, than the uncertainty of the 
 signs of death. If we consult what Winslow or Bru- 
 hier have said upon this subject ? we shall be convinced, 
 that between life and death, the shade is so very un- 
 distinguishable, that even all the powers of art can 
 scarcely determine where the one ends, and the other 
 begins. The colour of the visage, the warmth of the 
 body, the suppleness of the joints, are but uncertain 
 signs of life, frtill subsisting ; while, on the contrary, 
 the paleness of the complexion, the coldness of the 
 body, the stiffness of the extremities, the cessation of 
 all motion, and the total insensibility of the parts, 
 are but uncertain marks of death begun. In the 
 same manner also, with regard to the pulse, and the 
 breathing : these motions are often so kept under, 
 that it is impossible to perceive them. By approach, 
 ing a looking-glass to the month of the person sup. 
 posed to be dead, people often expect to find whether 
 he breathes or not. But this is a very uncertain ex- 
 periment. The glass is frequently sullied by the va- 
 pour of the dead man's body ; and often the person is 
 still alive, although the glass is no way tarnished. In 
 the same manner, neither burning, nor scarifying, 
 neither noises in the ears, nor pungent spirits applied 
 to the nostrils, give certain signs of the discontinuance 
 of life ; and there are many instances of persons who 
 have endured them all, and afterwards recovered 
 without any external assistance, to the astonishment 
 of the spectators. How careful, therefore, should we 
 be, before we commit those who are dearest to us to 
 the grave, to be well assured of tneir departure Ex- 
 perience, justice, humanity, all persuade us iut to 
 hasten the funerals of our friends, but to keep their 
 bodies unburied, until we have certain signs of their 
 real decease. 
 
 Indeed, soon after the creation, when the earth was 
 to be peopled by one man and one woman, the wise 
 providence of God, prolonged the life of man to above 
 900 years. After the Hood, when there was three 
 men to people the earth, their age was cut shorter. 
 
131 
 
 And none of these patriarchs, except Shem, attained 
 to five hundred years. In the next century, none 
 reached 240. In the third, none but Terah lived 200: 
 men being then so increased, that they built cities, and 
 divided into different nations. As their number in- 
 creased, the length of their lives diminished, till about 
 the time of Moses it was reduced to 70 or 80 years, 
 where it stands at this day. This is a good medium, 
 so that the earth is neither over-stocked, nor kept 
 too thin of inhabitants. If men were now to live to 
 Methuselah's age, of 969 years, or only to Abraham's 
 of 175, the earth would be over- peopled. If on the 
 contrary, the age of man was limited (like that of 
 divers other animals) to 10, 1 20, or 30 years, it would 
 not be peopled enough. But at the present rate, 
 the balance is nearly even, and life and death keep on 
 an equal pace. 
 
 This is highlyremarkable,that wherever any account 
 has been taken, there is a certain rate and proportion 
 in thepropagation of mankind. Such a number marry, 
 and so many are born, in proportion to the number of 
 persons in every town or nation. And as to births, two 
 things are very observable. One is, the proportion of 
 males and females ; fourteen males to thirteen females^ 
 which is exactly agreeable to all the bills o^ Mortality. 
 And this surplusage of males allows one man to one 
 woman, notwithstanding the casualties to which men 
 are exposed above women. The other is, that a few 
 more are born, than appear to die in anyplace. This 
 is an admirable provision for extraordinary emergen- 
 cies, to supply unhealthy places, to make up the rava- 
 ges of epidemic distempers, and the depredations of 
 war ; and to afford a sufficient number for colonies, in 
 the yet unpeopled parts of the earth. On the other 
 hand, those extraordinary expences, are not only a 
 just punishment of sin, but also a wise means, to 
 keep the balance of mankind even. So one would be 
 ready to conclude, by considering the Asiatic, and 
 more fertile countries, where prodigious multJU 
 G 6 
 
132 
 
 (tides are swept away by wars and plagues ; and still 
 they remain full of people. 
 
 As to the length of life, it has been an ancient opi. 
 nion, that men lived longer in cold countries than iri 
 hot. But the reverse is true. The inhabitants of the 
 Caribbee island?, usually live a hundred and fifty 
 years. In the Molucca islands, the ordinary life of 
 the natives is a hundred and thirty years, in Suma- 
 tra, Java, and the neighbouring islands, the life of the 
 inhabitants commonly extends to a hundred and forty 
 years : in the realm of Cassuby, to 150. The Brazi- 
 lians frequently live 160 years, and many, in Florida 
 and Jucatan, still longer. 
 
 Nor is this at all improbable. For there being no 
 such inequality of weather iu those climates as in ours, 
 the body is not shocked by sudden changes, but kept 
 in a more equal temper. And sickly persons with us, 
 when fixed to their beds, and kept in an equal degree 
 of heat, are often found to hold out many years, who 
 would otherwise scarce have survived one. 
 
 Before concluding this head, we may observe one 
 more eminent instance of the divine wisdom, in the 
 great variety throughout the world of men's faces, 
 voices, and hand- writing. Had men's faces been cast 
 in the same mould, their organs of speech given the 
 same sound : and had the same structure of muscles 
 and nerves, given the hand the same direction in writ. 
 ing : what confusion, what numberless inconvenien- 
 cies must we have been exposed to ? No security 
 could have been to our persons, no certainty of our 
 possessions. Our courts of justice abundantly testify 
 the effects of mistaking men's faces or hand-writing. 
 But this, the wise Creator has taken care to prevent 
 from being a general case. A man's face distinguishes 
 Jilm in the light, as his voice does in the dark : and 
 his hand-writing can speak for him when absent, and 
 secure his contracts to future generations. 
 
 Lastly, how admirably has God secured the execu- 
 tion of his original sentence, upon every child of man. 
 

 133 
 
 Dust tJwu art) and unto dust shalt thou return ? 
 From tbe moment wo live, we prepare for death, by 
 the adhesion of dust, mixed with all. our aliments, to 
 our native dust; so that whatever we eat or drink, 
 to prolong life, must sap the foundation of it. 
 Thus in spite of all the wisdom of man and all the 
 precautions which can be used, every morsel we take, 
 poisons while it feeds, and brings us nearer to the dust 
 from whence we came. 
 
134 
 
 CHAP. IV. 
 
 Of the Soul, and of the Origin of Man. 
 
 1. There is something in Man which perceives the various Mo- 
 
 tions of the Body. 
 
 2. This Perception is sometimes continued, and recalled. 
 
 3. We know some Things in a more sublime Manner. 
 
 4. There is something in us which has an Appetite to sensible 
 
 Things. 
 
 5. And another Appetite, which is often contrary to this. 
 
 6. How Philosophers account for the direction of our bodily Mo* 
 
 tions. 
 
 7. For the External Senses. 
 
 8. The Imagination and Memory. 
 
 9. The Understanding, Will, and Affections. 
 
 10. This may be so, or may not. 
 
 11. Of the Immortality of the Soul. 
 
 12. Of the Union of the Soul and Body. 
 
 13. Rf;spon cannot discover the Origin of Man. 
 
 14. The Scriptural account of it. 
 
 15. Of the production of the Soul. 
 16.. Of the Gene ration of the Body. 
 
 * JlLVERY one finds there is something in himself 
 which perceives the motions raised in his body by 
 outward objects. For when we see, hear, taste, 
 smell, or feel, while the objects affect our bodily or- 
 gans, we iind also various perceptions in our mind, 
 according to the variety of those objects. 
 
 2. We observe, likewise, that after the objects are 
 removed, those perceptions often continue, yea, and 
 are variously mixed and compounded together, which 
 
135 
 
 we term imagination. And a long time after, when 
 those objects are not only removed, but even cease to 
 exist, those perceptions return into our mind. And 
 this we call memory. 
 
 3. And as we perceive these outward objects, so 
 we know that we do perceive them. The mind can 
 look inward upon itself, and reflect upon its own, 
 perceptions. Over and above this, we seem to find ia 
 ourselves, a knowledge of things abstracted from mat* 
 ter. But the more we labour to penetrate into the 
 nature of this divine principle, the more it seems to 
 retire and withdraw itself from our most studious re- 
 searches. 
 
 4. In like manner we find in ourselves various ap- 
 petites for good things, an i aversions to evil things : 
 yea, the very involuntary motions of the body tend to 
 avoid the evil and attain the good. And the things which 
 are perceived by our senses ? or represented by our ima- 
 gination, so necessarily affect us, that we can by no 
 means hinder ourselves from having an appetite for 
 some, and an aversion to others. 
 
 5. Yet frequently a more hidden and sublime appe- 
 tite exerts itself in our minds : one that checks, con. 
 trolSj and exercises authority over all the rest. For 
 if we are convinced, that the things which are plea- 
 sant, are nevertheless hurtful, the appetite for them is 
 over-ruled, and we find a desire* not^o enjoy, but to 
 avoid them. 
 
 6. In order to explain these things, philosophic 
 men suppose, that all the involuntary motions of the 
 body are performed in a mechanical manner, by mat- 
 ter so and so modified : and that such effects spring 
 of course from such causesj according to the stated 
 laws of motion. 
 
 7. As to the senses, they suppose, that when the 
 
136 
 
 organs of sense arc struck by any of the bodies that 
 surround us, and the motion caused thereby continued 
 through the nerves to the brain, the soul, residing 
 there, is suitably affected : God having so closely 
 connected the soul and the body, that on certain mo- 
 tions of the body, (if conveyed to the brain by means 
 of the nerves) certain perceptions of the mind always 
 follow : as, on the other hand, on certain perceptions 
 of the mind, certain bodily motions follow. 
 
 8. They suppose, if these motions, which are by 
 the nerves communicated to the brain, continue there 
 after the objects are removed, the perception of these 
 is imagination : which, if it occurs after it has ceased, 
 is then stiled memory. Others suppose, that imagi- 
 nation results from the motion of the animal spirits, 
 through fhose traces which were made in the brain, 
 while the outward objects were present ; and memory, 
 from the spirits moving through them afresh^ after 
 some intermission. 
 
 9. Once more. They suppose there are two facuU 
 ties in the soul ; one that is passive, the Understand- 
 ing, by which it perceives all the motions of the body, 
 and knows and reflects on its own operations : 'the 
 other active ; the Will, by which we incline to good, 
 and are averse to evil. The affections -are only 
 the Will exerting itself variously on various objects. 
 
 10. To speak freely upon the matter. I know the 
 body of man is contrived with such exquisite wisdom, 
 that he is able, by means of the organs of sense, to 
 perceive outward objects ; to continue those percep- 
 tions, to recal them after they are gone, and by a 
 reflex act, to know what passes in his mind or body. 
 But I know not how to account for any of these 
 things. 
 
 11. That the soul is immaterial, is clear from hence 
 that it is a thinking substance. If it be said, " God 
 
137 
 
 can endue matter with a faculty of thinking : ?> 
 we answer, no otherwise than he can endue a spirit 
 with solidity and extension ; that is, lie can change 
 spirit into matter : and he can change matter into 
 spirit. But even the Almighty cannot make it think 
 while it remains matter ; because this implies a con- 
 tradiction. 
 
 12. The union of the soul and body is another of 
 those things which human understanding cannot ap- 
 prehend* That body and spirit cannot, be implicated 
 or twisted together like two bodily substances, we 
 know. But how two substances of so widely dif- 
 ferent natures, can be joined at all, we know 
 not. All we can tell is this ; God has ordered 
 that certain perceptions in the soul, should constant^ 
 ly follow certain motions of the body, and certain 
 motions of the body, such perceptions in the soul. 
 
 13. How mankind began, is another point, which 
 is too hard for our reason to determine. That men 
 always existed, is no way probable, were it only on 
 this account, the late invention of arts. For since it 
 appears, at what time the most necessary arts were 
 invented, we cannot reasonably suppose, that men, 
 began to exist long before that period : seeing, if they 
 had always existed no reason can be given, why 
 these aud many more arts, were not invented long 
 before. And yet the accounts given of the origin of 
 mankind, by the wisest of the heathen philosophers, 
 are so above measure ridiculous, that they serve as a 
 melancholy proof of the weakness of barely natural 
 reason. 
 
 14. The scriptural account is this : God made the 
 body of man out of the earth, and breathed into him 
 the breath of life : not only an animal life, but a spi- 
 ritual principle, created to live for ever. Even his 
 *body was then perfect in its kind ; neither liable to 
 death nor pain. But what the difference was, be- 
 
138 
 
 tween the original and the present body, we cannot 
 determine. 
 
 But to form it even as it is now, no less than a 
 divine power \vas requisite. No less could mix earth, 
 water, air, and fire, in so exact a proportion, and then 
 frame so many different parts, of so various figure, 
 texture and magnitude. God alone was able to form 
 the original fibres ; to weave those fibres into hollow 
 tubes ; to dispose these tubs, filled with their several 
 humours and variously interwoven with each other, 
 into different organs ; and of those organs connected 
 together in a continued series and due situation, to 
 finish so complicated and wonderful a machine as the 
 human body. 
 
 15, Nothing was wanting now, but that the im- 
 mortal spirit should be sent into its habitation, to bear 
 the image of its Creator, and enjoy his glory. But 
 the manner wherein this was done we cannot tell 5 this 
 knowledge is too wonderful for us. And it is of no 
 use to indulge mere conjecture, where knowledge is 
 unattainable* 
 
 10. Even the present production of the body by 
 generation is what no man can fully explain. But this 
 \ve know : the female ovaries, which hang on each 
 side the womb, contain abundance of small vesicles, 
 filled with a transparent liquor. Some suppose, that 
 each of these contains, in miniature, all the parts of 
 a human body : that when one of them is penetrated 
 by the male seed, it is rarificd and expanded thereby, 
 till it breaks the membranous shell, and by the fallo- 
 pian tube, falls down into the womb. Here, being 
 slightly fastened to the sides of the womb, it receives 
 nourishment from the mother, till the heart is formed 
 and begins to propel the blood to the extremities of 
 the still increasing body. When it is come to its full 
 size 3 by rolling to andfro 3 it tears asunder the enclosing 
 
139 
 
 membranes, and having burst as it were the prison- 
 bars, emerges into light. 
 
 The first thing that appears of a foetus is the placenta, 
 like a little cloud on one side of the outer coat ofthe egg. 
 About the same time, the spine becomes visible; and alittle 
 after, the brain and cerebellum appear like two small 
 bladders. Next the eyes stand prominent in the head : 
 then the punctual saliens, the heart beating is plainly 
 to be seen; and last of all, the extremities. When 
 formed, the foetus lying in the womb, is almost of an 
 oval figure. For the head hangs down with the 
 chin upon the breast. Its back is round. With its 
 arms it embraces the knees, .which are drawn up to 
 the belly, and its heels are close to the buttocks. Us 
 head is upwards and its face to the mother's belly. 
 About the ninth month, the head, which till then was 
 lighter, becomes heavier than any other part. In con- 
 sequence of this the head falls down, in the liquor that 
 contains it ; the feet get loose, and the face turns to. 
 ward the mother's back. But being now in an un- 
 easy posture, it struggles arid brings on the mother's 
 throes. 
 
 Mr. Dodart, nicely observing an embryo, one and 
 twenty days old, found the placenta more than half 
 of the whole ; and thence concludes the younger the 
 embryo is, the larger is the placenta in proportion to 
 it : a plain reason, why miscarriages, though the 
 foetus is less, ure more dangerous than regular delive- 
 ries. For though the embryo in a miscarriage makes 
 a way sufficient for itself, it does not make a way for 
 so large a placenta as is to follow it. 
 
 The embryo itself was only seven lines long, from 
 the top ofthe head to the bottom of the spine, where 
 it terminated. The thighs were not unfolded : they 
 only appeared like two warts at the bottom of the 
 trunk. The arms made the same appearance on the 
 shoulders. The head was one third of the whole 
 length. On this were two small black points, which 
 would have been eyes. The mouth was very big ; a 
 
MO 
 
 plain indication that it fed thereby. There was no 
 eminence for the nose ; but two little, almost imper- 
 ceptible pits for the nostrils. Always the younger 
 the embryo, the bigger the head is, in proportion to 
 the body. The parts nearer the head are likewise 
 bigger, in proportion to the rest. 
 
 It weighed less than seven grains, which is an ex- 
 traordinary lightness, for a body seven lines long. 
 It was so soft that no part of it could be touched, with- 
 out making a change in its figure. Upon opening it, 
 Mr. Dodart discovered the heart and the right auricle. 
 All the other parts in the thorax an I the lower belly^ 
 weresimple outlines, (all vesicular) except a part on 
 the leftside, probably the spleen. 
 
 Some suppose, that millions of animalcula swim in 
 the sr j cd of male animals, which are so many embryos, 
 for which a receptacle only is provided in the eggs of 
 the female. But all agree, that either the male seed, 
 or the female egg, contains all the parts of the body $ 
 so that generation is no more than the growth or un- 
 folding of the parts there delineated. But how those 
 seeds, whether male or female, are elaborated and 
 prepared, abundantly transcends the highest reach of 
 human understanding. 
 
 If the animalcula, of which all animals are formed, 
 are originally in the male, yet they never can be 
 formed into animals, without the egg of the female. 
 
 That all animals spring from animalcula, seems pro- 
 bable from the following considerations : 
 
 1. That something may be observed in the tread 
 of an egg, even before incubation, like the rudiments 
 of an animal, in form of a tadpole. 
 
 2. That after incubation, all the parts of the animal 
 suddenly appear, the stamina, which existed before, 
 being then expanded. After three days incubation, 
 the punctum-saliens of a chick is discovered by the 
 naked eye. On ihe fifth day, the rudiments of the 
 head and body appear, which were before discernable 
 
141 
 
 by glasses. After thirty hours, we see tlie head, the 
 eyes, the heart, and the carina, with the vertebras 
 distinct. And by glasses we see all those parts, after 
 forty hours, which the naked eye cannot discern till 
 the fifth d^y. Whence it is probable, that even the 
 first discovery of them by the microscope, is not the 
 discovery of the parts newly formed, but of those that 
 existed before incubation, though not then dilated 
 enough to be visible. 
 
 3. That there is a near analogy between animals 
 and plants. Now we know, the seeds of these are 
 only little plants, folded up in membranes. Hence we 
 may easily infer, that animals proceed from animal- 
 cula folded up, till they are gradually enlarged and un- 
 folded. 
 
 And that these arrimalcula are originally in the seed 
 of the male, is probable. For 1. Numberless animal- 
 cula arc observed in the seed of animals. 2. We ob- 
 serve the rudiments of a fcetus in eggs fecundated by 
 the male, but not in others. 3. The rudiments in the 
 egg, both before and after incubation, exactly resem~ 
 ble the animalcula in the seed. 4. This gives a rational 
 account of many foetuses atone birth, especially that 
 of the Countess of Holland. It a-ccouots also for a 
 whole cluster of eggs in a hen, being fecundated at 
 once. 5. This best suits the analogy between animals 
 and plants. Every herb and tree bears its own seed ; 
 and a little plant of the same kind, which being thrown 
 into the womb of the earth, spreads forth its root and 
 receives its nourishment from the earth,but has its form 
 within itself* 
 
 Yet, thaf no animal can be formed without the 
 egg of rfa female, is evinced by the following consi- 
 derations : 
 
 1. No animalcula can come forward, if it do not 
 fall into a proper nidus. Sa though a thousand should 
 tail into one egg ? none of them would come forward^ 
 
142 
 
 but that which was in the very centre of the cicatricu- 
 la, or tread. And perhaps the nidus necessary for 
 their formation is so proportioned to their bulk, that 
 it can hardly contain more than one animalcula. 
 This is certainly the case in oviparous kinds. And all 
 the difference between the viviparous and the oviparous 
 is, that in the former, the egg is nothing but the cica- 
 tricula with its yolk: so that the foetus must draw its 
 nourishment from the womb. Whereas, in the ovi- 
 parous, the egg itself is a kind of womb, contain- 
 ing all that is needful for the animal, till it is hatched, 
 
 2. It is acknowledged, that the foetus in the womb, 
 is not connected with it, for a considerable time after 
 conception : that it is wholly loose from it, and is only 
 a little round egg, with the embryo in the midst, 
 -which sends forth its umbilical vessels by degrees, and 
 at last lays hold on the womb. Hence it is plain,that 
 the cicatricula, which nourishes the animalcula, does 
 not spring from the womb, but only falls into it, as 
 a fit soil, whence it may draw nourishment for the 
 foetus. 
 
 Yet there is a difficulty which presses equally on 
 those, who suppose the animal to spring either from the 
 male or female parent. It is the case of monsters. In a 
 mule, for instance: the body is of the form of the mare : 
 whereas the feet, the tail, and the ears, resemble thoie 
 of its sire. If the male supplied the arlimalcula, one 
 would imagine the foetus should always be of the same 
 species with the male. If the female, it should be of 
 her kind : whereas monsters are of both : as if the 
 main part of the animal lay in the egg, and the im- 
 pregnation only conveyod or changed the extremities. 
 
 Yet, that some animals iirst exist, not in the seed of 
 the male, but wholly in the egg of the female, unde. 
 niably appears from the case of frogs and toads. (And 
 why may it not be the same thing with other animals ?) 
 The eggs of these are not impregnated by the male, 
 till they issue from the womb. It is while they are 
 ejected,, that he fecundates them with his seminal 1U 
 
143 
 
 iquor. And there is no circumstance, by which the 
 fecundated egg ca,n be known from the unfecundated, 
 It appears that tadpoles exist before fecundation. For 
 the un fecundated eggs do not differ in the least from 
 those that are fecundated. But these are only tadpoles 
 coiled up. Such, therefore, are the unfecundated tad- 
 poles : they exist before fecundation ; only they can. 
 not unfold themselves without the liquid of the male. 
 Frogs then should not be placed among oviparous 
 animals, but among viviparous : if they do not rather 
 constitute a class between both. Thus nature seems 
 to delight in diversifying the modes of animal genera, 
 lion. 
 
 This may be the case with regard to one, or perhaps 
 a few species of animals. But, in general, where to 
 place the pre-existent animal or embryo, in the ani- 
 malcula or the egg, is still the question. A division of 
 vital, essential, and original stamina, is impossible. 
 Yet innumerable instances in monsters, mules, and 
 many natural subjects, concur to prove,that the young 
 partakes of the nature and qualities of both the pa. 
 rents, even to their defects and diseases, which are 
 often hereditary. How then can we suppose unal. 
 terable stamina ? Can the visible species of any pro. 
 duction be determined by them, if every sensible 
 quality may be influenced indiscriminately by either 
 parent ? 
 
 If they are placed in the amioalcula or the egg, 
 how are they transmitted ? If in the animalcula, 
 why is the process attended with so vast an ex pence, 
 so great a waste of millions of entities, each contain- 
 ing a series of the most perfect 3 and most wonderful 
 productions, when one only of those millions is to 
 take place ? And how are these animals genera- 
 ted ? If in the common way, not only the process 
 will be boundless, (these in their seed will have 
 others, and so on in an endless series ;) but they can- 
 not then be unalterable, because they are capable of 
 being generated. Further, if they float in th? air, 
 
144 
 
 or lie hid in food, how is it (hat the stamina of one 
 species does not sometimes insinuate themselves into 
 a parent of another species ? Or if they are excluded, 
 by proper strainers, in distant species, they cannot 
 be so in those that are near akin. For if the sper- 
 matic animal, which in the matrix of a mare, produces 
 a horse, is yet so fitted to that of an ass, that it can 
 possess a cellule there, exclusive of every other, which 
 shews an exact co-aptitude : certainly the same ani- 
 mal, if contained in food or air, common to botk 
 horse and ass, might pass indiscriminately the strainers 
 of either : and so we might have mules without the 
 promiscuous congress of the two species. 
 
 In another view, if we consider the extreme te- 
 nuity of one of these stamina, in its first origin at the 
 distance of many ages, compared to the smallest fibre 
 of the animal it is said to constitute : can so minute 
 a filament serve as a substratum for a cylinder, com- 
 paratively immense ? Can the terraqueous globe 
 derive its present dimensions from the dilatation of an 
 atom ? Such is a muscular fibre in its present state, 
 compared to what it was in its origin. Consequently, 
 what must have been the increase of extraneous 
 matter, either by apposition or 'incorporation, which 
 is now as much a part of the fibre, as the original 
 stamen ? And if thus much can be mechanically 
 assimilated, why not the whole formed by mecha- 
 nical causes ? Or why must so insignificant a 
 part of it, be supposed to be concreated with the uni- 
 verse ? 
 
 The difficulty still increase" immensely, if we look 
 into the vegetation of plants,and the wonderful repro- 
 duction of the parts of the polypus, lobsters, and 
 many other animals. The original stamina, how mi- 
 nute soever, questionless, are diffused through the 
 whole production : since in this system all animal and 
 vegetable growth is made by developement only; But 
 if diffused ; then some oral! may be lost by successive 
 
145 
 
 bisection. And if lost, how can they be reproduced ? 
 If reproduced, how were they concreated with the 
 universe ? These and a thousand other difficulties 
 can in nowise be evaded, but by multiplying supposi- 
 tion on supposition, which renders the hypothesis so 
 complex, as utterly contradicts the ordinary process 
 of nature. 
 
 It is more reasonable to say, that so many secre- 
 tory ducts, so many strainers, so many preparatory 
 vessels in animals, and such a curious disposition iu 
 plants, for the continuation of every species, imply a 
 digestion, secretion, and preparation of principles, 
 invariably productive of every individual, when they 
 fall into their respective matrixes, and find aliment 
 proper to assimilate. Are not these principles con- 
 tained in the nourishment taken by the parent plant 
 or animal, the same that continually vegetate in if, 
 and increase it till it is adult, then exuberate, while it 
 is by new preparations, fitted, invariably to propagate; 
 its kind ? Else why this digestion? Why this se- 
 cretion ? Why so many strainers^receivers, ducts and 
 valves ? And why is some food more productive of 
 these principles than others ? 
 
 And if every mixed body is made up by the com. 
 bination of certain principles; we cannot doubt, but 
 (lod may have established forces in nature, by which 
 such principles may in certain circumstances, be in. 
 variably united, without any danger of deviating, so 
 as to render generation equivocal. And if every pro- 
 duction in question is a mixed body, we know th.-itho>v 
 various soever they are, a small number of .principle 
 differently combined, will yield variety enough to 
 produce them all. Thus we reduce nature to what 
 it is ever found to be, simple in the beginning of its 
 course, but afterwards, when it is distributed, ma^U 
 licent beyond expression. 
 
 Modern naturalists all agree, that every plant pro- 
 reeds from its specific seed ; every animal iYoin a,n eg-^ 
 or something analogous, pre-existing in its pa* 
 
 vor, i, u 
 
146 
 
 But what do we mean by seeds and eggs ? These m 
 the common sense of the words, are certain mixed bo. 
 dies, that immediately furnish those productions. 
 They are said to contain not only the pre-existent 
 germ, but the fit nidus also and aliment to be assimi- 
 lated in proper circumstances. They are therefore 
 heterogeneous bodies, that coalesce in a known time ; 
 and their principles are so far from being united at 
 the creation, that they sensibly come together from 
 distant places, in all hermaphrodite plants, and from, 
 different individuals in all those species, where the 
 male and female are distinct. 
 
 But it is in vain for us to lay down any certain 
 rule, and to say to nature, u this is thy scheme ; from 
 this thou shalt not deviate." If she makes it a law 
 in many species, that every individual requires the 
 co-operation of a male and female parent ; she has, 
 at the same time, her hermaphrodites, both in plants 
 and animals. And if in some hermaphrodites, the 
 sexes are so distinct, that she seems not to deviate far 
 from her primitive law ; she will, in another instance, 
 tbat of the pucerons, act either with or without the 
 co-operation of a male. Again : in some species, 
 the female may be so impregnated, that the impreg- 
 nation shall diffuse itself to five or six generations. 
 Yet again : in many kinds of polypes, generation pro. 
 ceeds without male or female, egg or seed. And far. 
 ther still ; there are some species of polypes, where a 
 whole family, (after branching out by real vegetation, 
 as far as nature designs) jointly concur to furnish 
 one egg, as the source of a future progeny. If at last 
 you resolve to stand by this, that at least every indi- 
 vidual proceeds from a parent like itself ; even this is 
 overthrown by late experiments. For we have now 
 a cloud of instances, of a class of beings hitherto un- 
 known, wherein animals grow upon, are produced by, 
 and in the strictest sense of the word, brought forth 
 from plants. Then, 'by a strange vicissitude, they be* 
 come plants of another kind. These again become 
 
147 
 
 animals of another, and thus on, for a series farther 
 than the utmost power of glasses can carry the most 
 inquisitive observer. 
 
 And as to the animalcula supposed to be discovered 
 in the male seed, the microscope discovers the same in 
 the seminal liquor of females. Probably neither the 
 one, nor the other are real animals, but only inani 
 mate particles in strong fermentation. 
 
148 
 
 PART THE SECOND. 
 
 OF BRUTES. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 OF BEASTS. . 
 
 1. The general Difference of Men and Beasts, as to the Structure 
 
 and Posture of the Body. 
 
 2. Their Agreement. 
 
 3. Their Agreemcpt and Disagreement as to the Mead and Brain* 
 
 4. The Heart and Lung?. 
 
 5. The Eyes. 
 
 ;6. the Ears, Nose, Teeth. 
 
 7. The Windpipe. 
 
 8. The Vegetative and Sensitive Motions in Brutes, 
 
 9. Of the Soul of Brutes. 
 
 10. Of some particular Sorts of Beasts. 
 !1. Seme general Reflections. 
 
 EXT to man in the visible creation are Beasts. 
 And certainly, with -regard to (he structure of the 
 body, the difference is not extremely great between 
 man atid other animals, only in this, that the stature 
 of man is erect, and his form more elegant ; that no 
 beast has the feet of a man, much less a hand so ad- 
 mirably fitted for every purpose : and lastly, that no 
 
149 
 
 other animal has a brain so large in proportion to its 
 bulk 'as man. Concerning the prone posture of their 
 body we may observe two things; the parts ministering 
 thereto, and the use thereof. 
 
 I. As to the parts, it is observable that in all these 
 creatures;- the legs are made exactly conformable to 
 their posture, as those of man are to his posture'; and 
 farther, that the legs and feet are always admirably 
 suited to the motion ami exercise of each animal. In 
 some they are made for strength, to support a vas't 
 unwieldy body ; as in the elephant, which being a 
 creature of such prodigious weight, has its legs accord- 
 ingly made like pillars. In others, they are made for 
 agility and swiftness. So decrs, hares, and several 
 other creatures, have their legs very slender, but 
 strong withal, and every way adapted for quick mo- 
 tion. In some, they are formed only for walk-ing and 
 running, in others for swimming too. Thus in the 
 feet of the otter, the toes are all conjoined with mem. 
 braues, as they are in geese and ducks. And in swim- 
 ming it is observable, that when the foot goes forward 
 in the water the toes are close, but when backward 
 they are spread out ; whereby they more forcibly 
 strike the water, and drive themselves forward. In 
 others, as moles, they are made for walking and dig- 
 ging, and in others for walking and {lying.* In some 
 they are made more weak for the plainer lands, in 
 others, stiff and less flexible, i for traversing ice and 
 dangerous precipices. In some they are shod with 
 rough and hard hoofs, in others with only a callous 
 skin.J In the latter, the feet are composed of toes; 
 
 * The membranous wings of a bat are a prodigious deviation 
 from nature's ordinary way; and so is the Virginian flying-squirrel^ 
 whose skin is extended in the nature of wings between its fore-legs 
 and body. 
 
 f The Eik has legs so stiff and inflexible, that they run on iee 
 without slipping. Ami this is the way they take in winter to save 
 themselves from the wolves. 
 
 J The Goat, which generally dwells on mountains and roc\s, and 
 delights (D waikon narrow ridges, and to take great and seemingly 
 H 3 
 
150 
 
 some sliort, barely for going ; some long to supply the 
 place of a hand ; some armed with long and strong 
 talons to catch hold and tear the prey j and some 
 fenced only with short nails to confirm the steps in 
 running and walking. 
 
 II. 1. As the posture of man's body is the fittest for 
 a rational animal, so is the prone posture of beasts, 
 the most useful to themselves, and the most fit for the 
 service they perform to man. 
 
 2. But there is a wonderful agreement between the 
 bodies of men and beasts, not only with regard to the 
 structure, but also the use of the several parts. How 
 they differ, will be mentioned hereafter. 
 
 3. The brain in them is of nearly the same structure 
 and consistence as in man, and undoubtedly performs 
 the same office, secreting the animal spirits (if such 
 there be) in order to sensation and muscular motion in 
 etery part of the body. The cerebellum is nearly of 
 the same shape in all ; but the shape of the brain ne 
 ccssarily varies according to that of the head, 
 
 it is remarkable that in man the head is of one singlo 
 form ; whereas in the four-footed race it is as various 
 as their species. It is in some square and large, suit* 
 able to their food, abode, arid slow motion : in others, 
 it is small, slender, and sharp, agreeable to their 
 swifter motion, or to make way to their food or habu 
 tation under ground. And as to the brain contained 
 therein, how small is it in beasts in proportion to 
 what it is in man ! Another thing no less remarkable 
 is, the situation of the brain and the cerebellum. Ai 
 God has given to man a lofty countenance, and has 
 lodged in his brain an immortal soul, to behold and 
 contemplate heavenly things, so as his face is erect, his 
 brain is set in a higher place., above tne cerebellum and 
 
 dangerous leaps, has the joints of the legs remarkably stiff and 
 strong; likewise the hoof is hollow underneath, and iti edgeg 
 sharp, 
 
J5I 
 
 alf the sensorics ; but in brutes, whose face is prone 
 to the earth, and who are not capable of speculation, 
 the cerebellum, which ministers merely <o animal life, 
 is placed above the brain, also some of the organs of 
 sense are placed, if not above the brain, at least on a 
 level therewith. 
 
 Another very great convenience in this position of 
 the brain and cerebellum is, in the head of man, the 
 base of the brain and cerebellum, yea of the whole 
 skull, is set parallel to the horizon, by which means 
 there is the less danger of the two brains joggling or 
 slipping out of the place; but in beasts, whose heads 
 hang down, the base of the skull makes a right angle 
 with the horizon, by which means the brain is beneath 
 and the cerebellum above. And lest the cerebellum 
 should hereby be liable to frequent concussions, an ad- 
 mirable provision is made by that strong membrane the 
 durarnater, closely encompassing it, B-side this, it is 
 guarded in some species with a strong bony fence. In 
 the hare, the coney and several others, a part qf the 
 cerebellum is on each side within the os pctrosiun, so 
 that its whole mass is, by this double stay, firmly con- 
 taincd within the skull, 
 
 4. The heart and lungs in beasts are of the same 
 structure, with the same apparatus of veins and arte- 
 ries as in men. We cannot therefore doubt but the 
 blood circulates in them, and nutrition is performed as 
 in us. Their food also being dissolved in thestoma h, 
 is conveyed by the lacteals to the receptacle of the 
 chyle. To the fore-part of this (in men the upper 
 part) joins the thoracic duct, which extending through 
 the length of the thorax ends in the vein called in 
 beasts cruralis anterior. The remaining, part of the 
 circulation is performed in them as in men. 
 
 But some beasts have more stomachs than one; and 
 some have the peculiar property of chewing the cud. 
 The food, after it has been swallowed, is returned to 
 the mouth, where it is chewed over again at leisure. 
 
 Not that this is altogether peculiar to beasts. There 
 &4 
 
152 
 
 have been instances of men who had this property* 
 Dr. Slare gives us a particular account of one whom he 
 knew at Bristol. u lie begins," says he, u to chew 
 his meat over again, within a quarter of an hour after 
 n?cals. This chewing, after a full meal, lasts an hour 
 and a half. If he goes to bed soon after a meal, he 
 cannot sleep till the usual time of chewing be over. 
 The victuals returned, taste more pleasantly than they 
 did at first. Bread, iiesh, cheese, and drink, are of 
 much such a colour as they would be if mixed together 
 in a mortar. His victuals lie heavy on his stomach till 
 they have passed this second chewing. He was thus 
 ever since he can remember. His father does the same 5 
 but in small quantities." What a mercy is it that we 
 have not more such instances ! For how much of our 
 precious time would it consume! 
 
 5. The situation, number, and conformation of the 
 cyts in various animals, is wonderfully adapted to 
 their various circumstances. In several the eye looks 
 rhidly forward, but so as to take in nearly the he- 
 tnisphcre before it. In others, the eyes are so placed 
 -as to take in nearly a whole sphere. In some, they 
 are so fixed as to look chiefly behind, so that they sec 
 their enemy following them ; so in rabbits and hares : 
 whereas in dogs they are more forward^ to look after 
 their prey. 
 
 Generally the head is moveable for the sake of the 
 eyes, and the eyes themselves moveable every way. 
 VVhcre it is not so, other expedients are found to an. 
 swer the same end. Thus in some creatures the eyeg 
 are set at a distance from the head, to be moved this 
 way or that : as in snails, whose eyes are fixed to the 
 end of their horns, or rather of the optic nerves which 
 are sheathed therein. In other creatures, whose heads 
 and eyes are immovcable, this is made up by the num* 
 ber of eyes. So spiders, which cannot move their 
 head, have four, six, or eight eyes, all placed in the 
 front of the head (which is round) like a locket of 
 diamonds. 
 
153 
 
 MaVny animals have muscles to move the eye, and 
 obvert it to the object. Fishes have none ; but for 
 amends they have many little protuberances finely 
 ranged on their large bulging eyes, by which number- 
 Jess rays of light are deflected from objects above, be- 
 neath, and on either side. Yea, some hundreds of 
 these protuberances are curiously ranged on theconvex 
 eye of a Flesh-fly. 
 
 Scorpions have above a hundred eyes; an Epheme- 
 FOII fly full two thousand. 
 
 In other creatures which have only two eyes, the 
 want of motion therein is supplied by their eyes pro- 
 tu be rating into hemispheres, each being a vast num- 
 ber of segments of a sphere. 
 
 The eyes of a Cameleon resemble a convex glass set 
 in a round socket, which he turns backward and for- 
 ward without stirring the head, and commonly one a 
 contrary way to the other. 
 
 Lastly, Moles living under ground, have not so 
 much need of eyes as other creatures : yet they have 
 eyes, but exceeding small, far in the head, and co- 
 vered with strong hair. When they are above ground 
 they can put the:-i forth beyond the skin, and draw 
 them back at pleasure. 
 
 Another circumstance relative to the eye is highly 
 remarkable. As- we use various apertures to our optic 
 glasses, so nature has made a far more com pleat pro- 
 vision to admit enough, and not too much light into 
 th eyes of animals, by the dilatation and contraction, 
 of the pupil. And this, in divers animals of divers 
 forms, is according to their peculiar occasions. Li 
 some it is round, particularly in man 5 that being the 
 most proper figure for the position of our eyes, ani 
 the nse we make of them both by day and night. In, 
 some animals it is of a longish form, m some transverse, 
 with its aperture large (an admirable provision for fi.eir 
 seeing sidc-\vays>) and thereby avoiding many incoiu 
 yenicncies, as well as a help for g.thering their food 
 on the ground, whether by day or night. In others,' 
 that aperture is crcct ? and also capable of opening wide 
 
 u,5 
 
154 
 
 and shutting close. The latter serves to exclude the 
 bright light of the day, the former to take in the faint 
 rays of the night, thereby enabling them to see and 
 catch their prey when there is no light discernable to 
 us. 
 
 Thus cats can so close their pupil as to admit but a 
 Single ray of light ; and again, by throwing all open, 
 they can take in all the faintest rays ; which is an in- 
 comparable provision for creatures that have occasion 
 to watch their prey both by day and night. 
 
 But beside this, in cats and other nocturnal animals, 
 there is a sort of carpet at the bottom of the eye, which 
 gives a kind of radiation on the pupil, thereby enabling 
 them to see in the dark. 
 
 To preserve this tender organ, many creatures have 
 a membrane, which is not commonly perceived, where, 
 with they can at pleasure cover the eye, without too 
 much hindering the sight, being both transparent and 
 strong, so that it is a kind of moveable cornea. 
 
 Providence is conspicuous in furnishing frogs with 
 this ; for as they live in watry places which generally 
 abound in plants that have sharp edges or points, and 
 as the frog goes on, not by walking but by leaping, if 
 he were not so furnished, he must either shut his eyes, 
 and so leap blindfold, or run many risques by leaving 
 them open ; but this membrane guards the eyes with- 
 out blinding him, and as soon as the occasion for it is 
 over, he draws it back into a little cell. Many birds 
 also, as they must fly between trees and bushes, arc 
 provided with the same membrane, and so is the rein* 
 deer. 
 
 6. The comparative anatomy of the Ear, yields 
 abundant instances of the Creator's wisdom. In birds 
 the outward ear is close and covered, not protuberant, 
 as that would obstruct their flight. In beasts, its 
 form is agreeable to the posture and motion of the 
 body, but admirably varied in the several species ac. 
 cording to their various occasions. In some, as the 
 hare, it is large, open, and erectj by which means 
 
155 
 
 that timorous helpless creature is warned of the least 
 approach of danger. In others, it is co?ered to keep 
 out noxious bodies. In those which are forced to 
 mine and dig for their habitation, it is short, and 
 lodged deep and backward in the head. Thus moles 
 have no auricle at all, but only a round hole between 
 the neck and shoulder, and this is closed with a little 
 skin, which opens and shuts like an eye-lid. The 
 sea-calf also, as well as lizards and serpents, have no 
 outward ear, and the tortoise, with most kind of 
 fishes, have the passage quite covered over. 
 
 But among all the varieties in the structure of this 
 organ, none are more remarkable than those of the 
 passage into the os petrosurn. In an owl, which 
 perches upon a tree or beam, and hearkens after the 
 prey beneath her, it comes farther out above than, 
 below, for the better reception of sounds from beneath. 
 In a fox, which scouts under the prey at roost, it 
 comes farther out below than above. In a pole-cat, 
 which hearkens straight forward, it is produced be. 
 hind, for the taking a forward sound. Whereas a 
 hare, whose enemy comes behind, is supplied with a 
 bony circle directed backward,' by means of which 
 she receives distinctly the smallest sound which comes 
 that way. 
 
 The more accurate the sense of Smelling is in any 
 creature, the longer are the laminze in the nostrils, 
 and the more in number, folded up and crowded to- 
 gether, to contain more nervous filaments, and to de- 
 tain the odoriferous particles in their windings and 
 turnings. An admirable provision this for the good of 
 many creatures, the chief acts of whose lives are per- 
 formed by the ministry of this sense. In insects and 
 many other creatures it is of great use, in helping them 
 to proper places for hatching their eggs, and 'breeding 
 up their young : and most irrational animals, beasts, 
 birds, and reptiles, do by their smell lind out their 
 food. With what sagacity do some of them discover it, 
 in the midst of mud and dirt. How curiously do otherg 
 pick aod abuse such plants as afford them wholesome 
 
156 
 
 food (perhaps medicine too) avoiding such as tend to 
 hurt or destroy them. And ail this principally by the 
 smell, together with its near ally, the taste. 
 
 The Tarious forms of the Teeth in various creatures, 
 is another instance of the Divine wisdom. How cu. 
 riously are they adapted to the peculiar food and occa- 
 sion of each species ! Thus in the rapacious, they are 
 fitted to catch and hold their prey ; in the herbaceous, 
 to gather and chew vegetables. In those which have 
 no teeth, as birds, the bill supplies that defect, to- 
 gether \vith their additional stomach. And it is a re- 
 mark which hardly fails, alHruch animals as have four 
 stomachs have no teeth at all. 
 
 There are great varieties in the teeth of other ani- 
 mals : trout have teeth upon their tongues; cod-fish at 
 the bottom of their gullet. Crocodiles have three rows 
 of teeth on the same jaw ; sharks four or five : sea- 
 devils, so called, have several rows of moveable teeth, 
 
 7. The variation of the Wind-pipe in various crea- 
 tures is likewise observable, as it is necessary for that 
 of the voice. In a hedge-hog, which has a very small 
 voice, it is hardly more than membranous. In a 
 pigeon, which has a low soft note, it is partly inem- 
 braneousj^partly cartilaginous. In an owl, which has 
 a good audible note, it is more cartilaginous : but 
 that of a jay (as of a linnet) lias bones instead of 
 cartilages. 
 
 The rings of the wind-pipe likewise are fitted for 
 the modulation of the voice ; for in dogs and cats, 
 which uso a great many notes, they are (as in man) 
 open and flexible, whereby all or any of them is moj'e 
 or less dilated or contracted, in order to a deeper or 
 shriller note. But they are one entire ring in the 
 Japan peacock, which uses one single note. 
 
 8. As to the Motions of brutes it is not easy to 
 conceive that even those of the vegetative kind, can 
 be the mere mechanical effects of matter, however modi* 
 fial much less can we coiiceive this of their sensitive 
 

 157 
 
 motion, for we hare not the least reason to doubt btit 
 the same impressions of external objects raise the same, 
 perceptions in them as in its. No question, they see, 
 and hear, and smell, and taste, and feel in the same- 
 
 9. We cannot therefore deny, that there is some- 
 thing in brutes which perceives the impressions made , 
 by outward objects ; and that they perform a thousand 
 actions which can never be explained by mere mocha^ 
 nism, those in particular which spring from what we 
 call instinct, as the feeding and tending their young, 
 the building their nests and preparing their habitation, 
 upon or in the earth. 
 
 It is true, some things in brutes as well as in men 
 may be mechanically accounted for, butothers cannot; 
 so that we are constrained to own there is in them also 
 some superior principle, of whatever kind it be, which 
 is endued with sense, perception, and various appe- 
 tites : for from their outward actions we may as easily 
 learn, as we could from those of a man born deaf and 
 dumb, that there are in this principle or soul two diffe- 
 rent faculties that of perceiving or knowing, an- 
 swerable to our understanding, and that of desiring 
 and shunning, answerable to our will. That this prin- 
 ciple is immaterial appears from this single considera- 
 tion, it has a power of self-motion, which no matter 
 can have, being wholly ar' 1 essentially passive. 
 
 10. It is not my design to enumerate the several spe- 
 cies of beasts, but it may illustrate the wisdom of tho 
 great Creator to give some account ot'afew, several of 
 which are not so commonly known. 
 
 The largest land animal in the world is an Elephant, 
 which seems rather to belong to the hog-kind than any 
 other ; they are found only in the south of Afric, and 
 in the East*Lndies ? and are generally of a dark colour. 
 Their eyes are like those of a hog : at tiie corners of 
 their mouth grow two large teeth, six or seven feet 
 
158 
 
 long in the male, but not above one in the female. 
 They feed on grass, nuts, and other vegetables. 
 
 Of all quadrupeds the elephant is the strongest as 
 well as the largest ; and yet in a state of nature it is 
 lieither fierce nor formidable. Mild, peaceful, and 
 brave, it never abuses its strength, and only uses it for 
 its own protection. In its native deserts tiie elephant 
 is a social friendly creature. The oldest of the com- 
 pany conducts the band, that which is next in seniori- 
 ty brings up the rear. The young, the weak, and 
 the sickly, fall into the centre, while the females carry 
 their young. They maintain this order only in dan. 
 gerous marches, or when they desire to feed in cultivat- 
 ed ground : they move with less precaution in the 
 forests and solitudes, but without ever removing far 
 asunder. 
 
 Nothing, can be more formidable than a drove of 
 elephants, as they appear at a distance in an African 
 landscape : wherever they maich, the forest seems to 
 fall before them : in their passage they bear down the 
 branches on which they ft-ed ; and if they enter into 
 an enclosure, they destroy all the labours of the hns. 
 bandman in a very short time. Their invasions are the 
 more disagreeable because there is no means of repel- 
 ling them: since it would require a small army to at- 
 tack the whule drove when uniitd. It now and then 
 happens that one or two is found lingering behind the 
 rest, and it is against these that the art and force of the 
 hunters are united; biH: an attempt to molest the whole 
 body would certainly prove fatal. They go forward 
 directly against him who offers the insult, strike him 
 with their tusk, swze him with their trunks, iiing him 
 into the air, and then trample him to pieces under their 
 feet. But they are thus dreadful only when they are 
 offended, and do no manner of personal injury, when 
 suffered to feed without interruption. 
 
 The elephant has very small eyes when compared to 
 the enormous bulk of its body ; but though their mi- 
 nuteness may at first sight appear deformed, yet, when, 
 
159 
 
 we come to examine them, they are seen to exhibit a 
 variety of expression. It turns them with attention 
 and friendship to its master ; it seems to reflect and 
 deliberate; and as its passions slowly succeed each 
 other, their various workings are distinctly seen. It 
 is remarkable for the excellence of its hearing : its 
 ears are extremely large, they are usually dependent, 
 but it can readily raise and move them : they serve also 
 to wipe its eyes, and to protect them against the dust 
 and flies. It appears delighted with music, and readily 
 learns to beat time, to move in measure, and even to 
 join its voice with the drum and trumpet. 
 
 This animal's sense of smelling is not only exquisite, 
 but it is pleased with the same odours that delight man- 
 kind. The elephant gathers flowers with great plea- 
 sure; it picks them up one by one, unites them in a 
 nosegay, and seems charmed with the perfume. The 
 orange flower is particularly grateful, both to its taste 
 and smell ; it strips the tree of all its verdure, and eats 
 every part of it, even to the branches themselves. It 
 seeks in the meadows the most odoriferous plants to 
 feed upon, and in the woods it prefers the coco, the 
 banana, the palm, and the sage tree to all others. 
 
 But it is in the sense of feeling that this animal ex- 
 cels all others of the brute creation, and perhaps man 
 himself. The organ of this sense is wholly in the 
 trunk, which is an instrument peculiar to this animal, 
 and tiiat serves it for all the purposes of a hand. The 
 trunk ends in two openings, or nostrils, like those of 
 a hog. An elephant of fourteen feet high has the trunk 
 about three feet long, and five feet and a half in cir- 
 cumference, at the mouth. It is hollow all along, but 
 with a partition running from one end of it to the 
 other. This tube is composed of nerves and muscles 
 covered with a skin like that of the rest of the body. It 
 is capable of being moved in every direction, of being 
 lengthened and shortened, of being bent or straight, 
 ened ; so pliant as to embrace any body it is applied 
 to, and yet so strong that nothing can be torn from 
 its gripe. To aid the force of this grasp, there arc 
 
160' 
 
 several very little eminences like a caterpillar's feet orr 
 the under side of this instrument, which without doubt 
 contributes to the sensibility of tha touch as well as the 
 firmness of the hold. Through this trunk the animal 
 breathes/ drinks, and smells ; and at the very point 
 of it, just above the nostrils, there is an extension of 
 the skin, above five inches long, in the form of a> 
 finger, and which, in fact, answers all the purposes 
 of one ; for with the rest of the extremity of the trunk 
 it is capable of assuming different forms at will, and 
 consequently of being adapted to the minutest objects. 
 By means of this, the elephant can untie the knots of 
 a rope, v unlock a door, and even write with a pen. It 
 sometimes happens, that the object is top large for the 
 trunk to grasp, in such a case the elephant makes use 
 of another expedient, it applies the extremity of the 
 trunk to the surface of the object, and, sucking up 
 its breath, lifts and sustains such a weight as the air in 
 that case is capable of keeping suspended. In this 
 manner this instrument is useful in most of the purposes 
 of life; it is an organ of smelling, of touching, and of 
 suction ; it not only provides for the animal's necessi. 
 tie?, but it also serves for ornament and defence. 
 
 The K'gs are not so inflexible as the neck, yet they 
 are very stiff, and bend not without difficulty. Those* 
 before seem to be longer than the hinder, but, upon 
 being measured, are found to be something shorter. 
 The joints by which they bend are nearly in the mid- 
 dle, like the knee of a man, and tiie large bulk which 
 they are to support makes their flexure ungain. Yet 
 while the elephant is young it bends the legs to lie 
 down or rise, but when it grows old or sickly this be- 
 comes so inconvenient that tha animal chuses to sleep- 
 standing. 
 
 It is one of the s.triking peculiarities of this animal, 
 that his generative powers totally fail when ho comes 
 under the dominion of man ; as if he seemed unwilling . 
 to propagate a race of slaves to increase the pride of his 
 conqueror. 
 
 The elephant^ when once tamed, becomes the most 
 
161 
 
 gentle and obedient of all animals. It soon conceives an 
 attachment for the person that attends it, caresses him, 
 obeys him, and seems to anticipate his desires. 
 
 In a short time it begins to comprehend the signs 
 made to it, and even the different sounds of the voice ; 
 it perfectly distinguishes the tone of command from 
 that of anger or approbation, and acts accordingly. 
 It receives its orders with attention, eagerly, yet with- 
 out precipitation. All its motions are regulated, and 
 its actions eem to partake of its magnitude, being 
 grave and majestic. It is quickly taught to kneel down 
 to receive its rider ; it caresses those it knows with its 
 trunk; with this salutes such as it is ordered to dis- 
 tinguish, and with this, as with a hand, helps to take 
 up part of its load. It suffers itself to be arrayed in 
 harness, and seems to taktf a pleasure in the finery of 
 its trappings. It draws either chariots, cannons, or 
 shipping, with surprising strength and perseverance; 
 and this with a seeming satisfaction, provided its 
 master appears pleased with its exertions : arid he fre- 
 quently takes such an affection for his keeper that he 
 will obey no other; and it has been known to die for 
 grief, when in some sudden fit of madness it has killed 
 its conductor. 
 
 In Deli, an elephant passing the streets, put his 
 trunk into a taylor's shop, where several people were 
 at work. One of the persons of the shop, desirous of 
 amusement, pricked the animal's trunk with his needle. 
 The elephant passed on without any signs of resent, 
 ment, but coming to a puddle of dirfy water, tilled his 
 trunk, returned to the shop, and spurted it over all 
 their finery. 
 
 Some of them are twenty feet in compass, and near 
 fourteen high. They seem to have more sense thaa 
 any other brute, and are capable of fidelity and strong 
 affection, particularly to their companion, so that 
 neither the male nor female is ever known to make a 
 second choice. 
 
 The female goes seventeen months with her young : 
 they are fifty onsixty years before they have their full 
 
162 
 
 Strength, are in full vigour at about a hundred, and lift 
 two or three hundred years. 
 
 A Rhinoceros, next to the elephant, is the most ex- 
 traordinary animal in the Indies. It is usually twelve 
 feet long, from the tip of the nose to the insertion of 
 the tail, from six to seven feet high, and the circum- 
 ference of its body is nearly equal to its length. It is 
 therefore equal to the elephant in bulk, and if it appears 
 much smaller to the eye, the reason is, the legs are 
 much shorter. In other respects it is shaped like a 
 wild. boar. 
 
 It is said to have a very rough tongue, but this is so 
 far from the truth, that no animal of near its size has 
 so soft a one. It is smooth and small like that of a 
 dog; and to the feel, it appears as if one passed the 
 hand over velvet. It has a peculiar cry, a mixture be- 
 tween the grunting of a hog and the bellowing of the 
 calf, The.agcof these animals is not well known : it 
 is said by some that they bring forth at three years 
 old, and if we may reason from analogy, it is probable 
 they seldom live above twenty. 
 
 That which was shewn iu London, was said by its 
 keeper to be eighteen years old, and even at that age 
 he pretended to consider it as a young one ; however 
 it died shortly after, and that probably in the course 
 of nature. It is a native of Asia and Africa, and is 
 usually found in those extensive forests that are Ire* 
 quented by the elephant and lion. As it subsists en- 
 tirely upon vegetable food, it is peaceful and harmless 
 among its fellows of the brute creation ; but though it 
 never provokes to combat, it equally disdains to fly* 
 It is every way fitted for war, but rests contented iu 
 the consciousness of its security. 
 
 His skin is without hair, and so full of scratches and 
 Scabs, that at a distance they may well be taken for 
 scales. On his nose he has a horn of a dark brown 
 colour, which bends backward, and is often two feet 
 long. He has often another horn a little above thi, 
 which never exceeds six inches. His eyes are exceed* 
 
163 
 
 tog small,, and he only sees strait forward ; therefore 
 he always runs in a strait line, tearing up whatever 
 stands in his way. With his horn he throws stones over 
 his head to a great distance, and even tears up trees 
 by the roots. 
 
 The outer skin of the Rhinoceros, which consists 
 of many folds, is thick and impenetrable. In running 
 one's lingers under one of the folds, it feels like a 
 piece of board half an inch thick ; but between the 
 folds the skin is as smooth and soft as silk, and easily 
 penetrated. See here the wisdom of the great Creator ! 
 If the outer skin, which is quite inflexible, was con- 
 tinued all over him without any fold, he could not 
 perform any action whatever ; but the suppleness of 
 skin in other beasts, is compensated in this by these 
 folds. It was necessary his skin should be hard for his 
 defence: mean time, it was a noble contrivance that 
 it should be so soft and smooth underneath, that when 
 be bends himself any way, one part of this board-like 
 skin, should slide over the other* And these folds are 1 
 plutvd m such parts of his body as to facilitate the per* 
 formauce of every voluntary motion, 
 
 Another native of the East Indies is the Camel, one 
 of the most serviceable animals in the world. He kneels 
 down to receive his burden, and rises when he hath his 
 accustomed load. If he feels himself over-burdened, 
 he will not rise, but cry till part of it is taken off. One 
 of them will carry a thousand or twelve hundred 
 weight, forty miles a day, for thirty or lorty days to* 
 gether. They have no teeth in the upper jaw. They 
 will travel forty hours without either meat or drink, 
 and nine days without drink : they have two stomachs 
 admirably contrived for this purpose. Tne gentleman 
 who dissected one at Paris, found in his second stomach 
 several square holes, which were the orifices of about 
 twenty cavities, made like sacks, placed between the 
 two membranes, which compose the substance of the 
 stomach. And in these reservoirs he contains water 
 euough to serve him for * many days. 
 
JG4 
 
 The bunch on his hack is not flesh, much less bone 5 
 but mere hair ; and when this is pressed close down, he 
 is no more hunch-backed than a swine. They subsist 
 on very little, which enables them to travel through 
 those vast and barren deserts. How wise is* he who' 
 caused these to be natives-of those countries where such 
 creatures are absolutely necessary ! A farther instance 
 of this i?, that the African camel, which has still 
 greater and more uncouth journeys to take, is larger 
 and stronger, and capable of carrying heavier bur. 
 dens tha'n those of Asia. 
 
 Another wonderful properly of camels is, that of 
 foreseeing the poisonous winds, which kill in a mo- 
 ment. A little before these come, they run together 
 and cry, and hide their noses in the earth ; and as 
 soon as they a. re past, they lift up their heads, and* 
 continue their journey. 
 
 The Dromedary in most respects resembles the 
 camel, only it is of a slighter make, and instead of one 
 bunch on its back has two, about six inches in height. 
 It goes frequently forty leagues a clay; so that al- 
 though it cannot carry above six hundred weight, yet 
 its swiftness atones for its weakness. Its feet are soft 
 as a sponge, and are not hurt either by stones or 
 sand. And (what is an excellent providence) they 
 travel best and have the greatest spirits in the hottest 
 weather, 
 
 The Lamas, in Pern, have small heads, resembling 
 im some measure both a horse and a sheep. The upper 
 Hp is cleft like that of a hare, through which, when 
 they are enraged, they spit, even to ten paces dis- 
 tance, a sort of juice, which vvheii it falls upon the 
 skin, causes a red spot and great itching. The neck 
 is long like that of a camel, the body like that of a 
 sheep, but with much longer legs. It yields strong 
 and fine wool, and is also a beast ofburden, and kept 
 at 1 an easy expence. It carries a burden a vast way 
 without tiling ; cats vory little, and never drinks. At 
 
165 
 
 ciight he lies clown, and no blows can make him rise, 
 or move one foot till morning. 
 
 A creature no less remarkable, but in a quite dif- 
 ferent way, is the Castor or Beaver. This creature is 
 about four feet long, and fifteen inches broad : he is 
 covered with two sorts of hair, one long^ the other a 
 soft down. The down, an inch long, is properly his 
 cloabhing, being extremely fine, and close laid upon 
 the skin. The long hair is spread over all, to preserve 
 it from dirt and wet. 
 
 Whether male or female, it has two bags under its 
 belly, which contain a liquid substance that congeals 
 in air, and affords an excellent medicine^ which we call 
 Castoreum. 
 
 He has strong teeth rivetted fast in his jaws, to cut 
 wood, as well. as chew his food. His fore-feet are like 
 those of an ape or squirrel, to hold what he eats in his 
 paw, and with these he digs, softens and works the 
 clay or loam for his habitation. His feet arc remark* 
 ably formed, more proper to swim than to walk with, 
 the five toes being joined together by a strong mem. 
 brane. His tail is long, tlattish, covered with scales, 
 and constantly lubricated 'with oil ; because, being an 
 architect from his birth, he uses his tail as a hod, to 
 carry his clay or mortar, and as a trowel to spread it 
 into an incrustation. Mean time the scales preserve it 
 from being hurt by the burden ; and the oil which he 
 squeezes from his bags, and rubs on with his snout, 
 from the noxious air and water. 
 
 As they like to live together, they chuse a situation 
 near some rivulet. They first build a causeway, in 
 which the water may rise level with the first story of 
 their habitation. This is built of wood and cla>, 
 twelve feet thick at the bottom, descending in a slope 
 on the side next the water. The other side is perpen- 
 dicular : the top of this is about two feet broad. They 
 cut their wood, though as thick as one's thigh, into 
 pieces, from two to six feet long, drive them into tht* 
 earth with their tcetn ; and lace them together with 
 
166 
 
 boughs, closing all the opening within and without 
 with a strong plaister made of clay. If the water in- 
 crease upon them, they raise their wall higher. Know- 
 ing their materials are more easily brought by water 
 than by land, they watch its increase, to swim with 
 mortar on their tails, and stakes between their teeth, 
 to the place where (hey build. When the causeway 
 is finished, they begin their apartments, which are oval, 
 and divided into three partitions, one above another ; 
 but the walls of these are perpendicular, and only two 
 feet thick. All the wood that projects, they cut off 
 with their teeth, and rough-cast both the out and in. 
 side of their work, with a mixture of clay and dry 
 grass. The first partition being below the level of the 
 dyke, is full of water, for they love to have their 
 hinder part hanging in the water. The other two are 
 above it, so that if the water ascend, they may ascend 
 proportionably. 
 
 At the bottom of their building, they strike out two 
 openings to the stream ; one leads to the place where 
 they bathe, the other to that where they ease nature. 
 
 They associate ten or twelve together, and proper- 
 tion their house to their number. When all is finished 
 below, they vault the top or roof in an oval form. 
 
 In summer they feed on fruits and plants, in winter 
 on willow, ash, or other wood. This they collect and 
 store up in time. They cut boughs from three to six 
 feet long: the large pieces are brought to the magazine 
 by several beavers, the smaller by one alone; but they 
 take different ways, each having his path assigned, to 
 prevent the labour being interrupted. They build up 
 their pile with much art, which is proportioned to 
 their number. A square pile of thirty feet, about tea 
 feet deep, serves for ten beavers ; but the wood is not 
 piled up in one continued heap, the pieces are laid 
 across one another, with cavities between for the con* 
 veniency of drawing out what they want. They aU 
 ways use first the parcel at bottom which lies in the 
 water, and when it is taken up for use, they cut this 
 wood into small pieces, and convey it to their apart- 
 
16? 
 
 ment, where the whole family come and receive thew 
 shares. 
 
 The feet of a female beaver, which a gentleman kept 
 in England some years since, were webbed like those 
 of a goose. The tail was scaly, and shaped like the 
 blade of an oar ; this she used as a rudder to steer 
 herself, especially when she swam under water, which 
 she would do for two or three minutes, and then come 
 up to take breath, sometimes raising only her nostrils 
 above water. She swam swifter than any water fowl ; 
 and under water as swift as a carp. The hind legs be- 
 ing longer than the fore, make her walk slow on dry 
 land, or rather waJdle like a duck. If drove along 
 fast, she could not run, but went by jumps, flapping 
 her tail against the ground. She never made any noise 
 except a little sort of a grunting, when angry or driven 
 fast. As the beaver frequenls the water like water- 
 fowls, may not the castor be provided for him by na- 
 ture to anoint his fur with, and to prevent the water 
 from soaking to his skin ; and as it is impregnated with 
 penetrating pungent particles, it may likewise con. 
 tribute to keep off the chill, which the water might 
 otherwise strike to his body when he remains long 
 therein. 
 
 The Shammoy, though a wild animal, is easily tamed, 
 and is to be found only in rocky and mountainous 
 places. It is about the size of a domestic goat ; it is 
 agreeably lively and active beyond expression. The 
 Shammoy's hair is short like that of the doe. In 
 spring it is of an ash-colour, in autumu, a dun colou^ 
 inclining to black, and in winter, of a blackish brown. 
 This animal is found in great plenty in the mountains 
 of Dauphiny, of Piedmont, Savoy, Switzerland, and 
 Germany. They are peaceful gentle creatures, and 
 live in society with each other. They are found in 
 flocks of from four to fourscore, dispersed upon the 
 crags of the mountains. The large males are seen 
 feeding detached from the rest, except in rutting time, 
 
168 
 
 when they approach the females, and drive away the 
 young. 
 
 It is to be observed, that this creature is extremely 
 vigilant, and has an eye the most piercing in nature. 
 Its smell also is not less distinguishing. When it sees 
 its enemy distinctly, it stops for a moment, and then, 
 if the person be near, in an instant Hies olF. In the 
 same manner it can by its smell discover a man at a 
 great distance, and gives the earliest notice. Upon 
 any alarm, the shammoy begins his hissing note with 
 such force, that the rocks and the forests re-echo to 
 the sound. The animal having .reposed a moment, 
 again looks round, and perceiving the reality of its 
 fears, continues to hiss by intervals. During this time 
 it seems in the most violent agitation ; it strikes the 
 ground with its fore-foot, and sometimes with both : 
 it bounds from rock to rock ; ifc turns and looks round ; 
 it runs to the edge of the precipice, and still flies with 
 all its speed. 
 
 I(s head is furnished with two small horns of about 
 half a foot long, of a beautiful black. The ears are 
 placed in a very elegant manner, near the horns, and 
 there are two stripes of black on each side of the face, 
 the r^st being of a whitish yellow, which never changes. 
 They run along the rocks with great ease and indiffe- 
 rence, and leap from one to another, so that no dogs 
 are able to pursue them. t They always mount or de 
 scend in an oblique direction, and throw themselves 
 clown a rock of thirty feet, and light with great seen, 
 rity upon some excrescence or fragment on the side of 
 the precipice, which is just large enough to place their 
 feet upon. The more craggy and uneven the forest, 
 the more this animal is pleased with the abode, which 
 thus adds to its security. 
 
 The Roe-Duck is the smallest of the deer-kind in 
 onr climate, and is now almost extinct, except in the 
 Highlands of Scotland. It is generally about three 
 feet long, and about two feet high. The horns ar^ 
 
169 
 
 from eight to nine inches long, upright, round, and 
 divided into three branches. The body is covered 
 with very long hair, well adapted to the rigour of its 
 mountainous abode. 
 
 As the stag frequents the thickest forests, and the 
 sides of the highest mountains, the roebuck courts 
 the shady thicket, and the rising slope. Although 
 far inferior in strength to the stag, it is more active. 
 and even more courageous. Its hair is always smooth 
 clean, and glossy ; and it frequents only the dryest 
 places, and of the purest air. Though but a very 
 little animal ; yet, when its young arc attacked, it 
 faces the stag himself, and often comes off victorious. 
 All its motions are elegant and easy ; it bounds 
 without effort, and continues the course with little 
 fatigue. It is also possessed of more cunning in 
 avoiding the hunter : and, although its scent is much 
 stronger than that of the stag, it is more frequently 
 found to make good a retreat. The stag never offers 
 to use art until his strength is beginning to decline ; 
 ihis more cunning animal, when it finds that its first 
 eiibrts to escape are without success, returns upon 
 its former track, again goes forward, and again re. 
 turns, until by its various windings, it has entirely- 
 destroyed the scent, and joined the last emanations to 
 those of its former course. It then by a bound, goes 
 to one side, lies flat upon its belly, and permits the 
 pack to pass by very near, without, offering to sfir. 
 
 The roe-buck differs from the stag also, in its 
 natural appetites, its inclinations, and its whole habit 
 of living. Instead of herding together, these ani- 
 mals live in separate families, the sire, the dam, and 
 the young ones associate together, and never admit a 
 stranger into their little community. All others ot" 
 the deer-kind are inconstant in their affection ; but 
 the roe-buck never leaves its mate : and as they have 
 been generally bred up together, from their first fawn- 
 ing, the male and female never after separate. 
 
 They drive away their fawns upon these occasion*?, 
 the buck farcing them to retire in order to make 
 
 T0L. I. I 
 
170 
 
 room for a succeeding progeny. However, when the 
 season is over, the fawns return to their does, and 
 remain with them some time longer ; after which, they 
 quit them entirely, in order to begin an independent 
 family of their own. 
 
 When the female is ready to bring forth, she seeks 
 a retreat in the thickest woods, being not less ap- 
 prehensive of the buck, from whom she then separates, 
 than of the wolf, the wild cat, and almost every ra- 
 Tening animal of the forest. She generally produces 
 two at a time. In about (en or twelve days these are 
 able to follow their dam, except in cases of warm pur- 
 suit, when their strength is not equal to the fatigue. 
 Upon such occasions the tenderness of the datn is 
 very extraordinary, leaving them in the deepest thicket 
 she offers herself to the danger, flies before the hounds 
 and does all in her power to lead them from the re- 
 treat where she has lodged her little ones. Such ani- 
 mals as are nearly upon her own level she boldly 
 encounters ; attacks the stag, the wild cat, and even 
 the wolf ; and while she has life> continues her efforts 
 to protect her young. 
 
 Of all animals of the deer kind, the rein. deer is 
 the most useful. It is a native of the icy-regions of 
 the North, and cannot live in a more southern cli- 
 mate. Nature seems to have fitted it entirely for that 
 hardy race of mankind that live near the pole. As 
 these would find it impossible to subsist among their 
 Darren, snowy mountains, without ifs aid, so this 
 animal can live* only there. From it alone, the na- 
 tives of Lapland and Greenland supply most of their 
 wants. It answers the purposes of a horse, to con- 
 vey them and their scanty furniture, from one moun- 
 tain to another ; it answers the purposes of a cow, in 
 giving milk; and of the sheep, in furnishing them 
 with a warm, though a homely kind of clothing. 
 From this alone, therefore, they receive as many ad- 
 vantages, as we derive from three of our most useful 
 creatures, it is lower and stronger built than the 
 stag ; its legs arc shorter and thicker, and its hoofs 
 
171 
 
 much broader ; its hair is much thicker arid warmer, 
 its horns much larger in proportion, and branch- 
 ing forward over its eyes, its ears are much larger ; 
 its pace is rather a trot than a bounding, and this 
 it can continue for a whole day ; its hoofs are cloven, 
 and moveablo, so that it spreads them abroad, as it 
 goes, to prevent its sinking in the snow. 
 
 Lapland is divided into two districts, the moun. 
 tainous, and the woody. The mountainous part is 
 barren and bleak, excessively cold, and uninhabitable, 
 during the winter. Still, however, it is the most de- 
 sirable part of this frightful region, and is most thick. 
 ly peopled, during the summer. The natives generally 
 reside on the declivity of the mountains, three or four 
 cottages together. Upon the approach of winter.they 
 migrate into the plains below, each bringing down his 
 whole herd, which often amounts to more than a 
 thousand, and leading them where the pasture is in 
 greatest plenty. The woody part of the country is 
 much more hideous : a frightful scene of .trees with- 
 out fruit, and plains without verdure. As far as the 
 eye can reach, nothing is to be seen even in the midst 
 of summer, but barren fields, covered only with moss, 
 no grass, no flowery landscapes, only here and there 
 a pine tree, which may have escaped the frequent 
 conflagrations, by which the natives burn down their 
 forests. This moss, however, which deforms the coun- 
 try, serves for its only support, as upon it alone the 
 rein deer ran subsist. The inhabitants, who, during 
 the summer, lived among the mountains, drive down 
 their herds in winter, and people the plains and 
 woods below. 
 
 There is something worthy our notice even in that 
 despised animal, an ass. There is a much greater re- 
 semblance between the horse and the ass, thin be- 
 tween the sheep and the goat. And yet the latter 
 produce an animal, that is not barren ; wherjas the 
 mule always is. 
 
 The She-ass is not less fond of her young, t'lan the 
 I 2 
 
172 
 
 male is of her. She will rush either through fire or 
 water, to protect or rejoin it. An ass is often no 
 less attached to his owner. He scents him at a con. 
 siderable distance, he distinguishes him from others, in 
 a crowd. He knows the way wherein he has passed 
 and the places where he inhabits. 
 
 When over-loaded he shews it by hanging down 
 Ills head, and lowering Iris ears. If his eyes are co- 
 vered, he will not stir a step ; and if he is laid 
 down in such a manner that one eye is cohered with 
 the grass, while the other is hidden with a stone, or 
 \vhatever is next at hand, he will continue fixed in the 
 same situation, and will not so much as attempt to 
 rise, to free himself from those slight impediments. 
 He walks, trots, and gallops like a horse, but is soon 
 tired, and then no beating will mend his pace. It is 
 in vain that his unmerciful rider exerts his whip or 
 his cudgel : the poor little animal bears it all with 
 patience, and does not offer even to move. 
 
 The Spaniards, of all people in Europe, seem to be 
 acquainted with the value of the ass. They take allpre. 
 cautions to improve the breed, and a jack-ass in Spain 
 is above fifteen hands high. This animal, however, 
 seems originally a native of Arabia. A warm cli- 
 mate is known to produce the largest and the best, 
 their size and spirit decline, in proportion as they ad. 
 vancc into colder regions. 
 
 In .Guinea, they are larger and more beautiful, 
 than even the horses of the same country. 
 
 In Persia, they have two kinds ; one of which 
 is used for burthens, being slow and heavy, the other 
 is kept for the saddle, being smooth, stately, and 
 nimble. An ass will Jive above sixty years. He 
 sleeps much less than the h-orse; and never lies down 
 for that purpose, unless very much tired. The she- 
 ass goes above eleven months with young, and never 
 brings forth more than one at a time. 
 
 The mule may be engeiKlered,either between a horse 
 
173 
 
 &nd a she-ass, or between a jack-ass and a inar<* 
 The latter breed is every way preferable, being lar- 
 ger, stronger, and better shaped. The common mule 
 is found very serviceable in carrying burthens, parti- 
 cularly in mountains and stony places. Their manner 
 of going down the precipices of the Alps is very 
 extraordinary. In these passages, on one side, ar 
 steep eminences, and on the other, frightful abysses; 
 andj as they generally follow the direction of the 
 mountain, the road, instead of lying in a level, forms 
 at every little distance steep declivities, of several 
 hundred yards downward. These can only be de- 
 scended by mules, and the animal itself seems sensi- 
 ble of the danger. When they conic to the edge of 
 one of these descents, they stop of themselves without 
 being checked by the rider; and, if he inadvertently 
 attempts to spur them on, they continue immovable. 
 They seem ruminating and preparing themselves for 
 the encounter. They not only attentively view the 
 road, but tremble and snort. Having prepared for 
 the descent, they place their fore-feet in a posture, 
 as if they were stopping themselves ; they then put 
 their hinder feet together, but a little forward, as 
 if they were going to lie down. In this attitude, 
 having taken as it were a survey of the road, they slide 
 down with the swiftness of a meteor. In the mean 
 time, all the rider has to do, is to keep himself fast 
 on the saddle, without checking the rein, for the least 
 motion is sufficient to disorder the mule ; in which 
 case they both unavoidably perish. But their 'ad. 
 dress in this rapid descent, is truly .wonderful ; for in 
 their swiftest motion, when they seem to have lost 
 all government of themselves, they follow 7 exactly the 
 different windings of the road, as if they had previ- 
 ously settled in their minds the route they were to 
 follow. iti this journey, the natives who are placed 
 along the sides of the mountains, and hold by the 
 roots ot the trees, animate the beast with shouts, and 
 N encourage him to perseverance. 
 
 i 3 
 
17* 
 
 There are but three animals of the horse kind. 
 The Horse, which is the most stately and courageous, 
 the Ass which is the most patient,and the Zebra which 
 is the most beautiful, but at the same time the wildest 
 animal in nature. Nothing can exceed the delicate 
 regularity of this creature's colour or the smoothness 
 of its skin; but on the other hand nothing can be 
 more timid, or more untamtfablc* 
 
 The Zebra, or wild ass, is chiefly a native of the 
 southern pans of Africa, and there are whole herds 
 .of them often seen feeding in the extensive plains near 
 the Cape of Good Hope. However, their watchful- 
 ness is such, that they suffer nothing to come near 
 them; and thtir swiftness so great, that they readily 
 leave every pursuer far behind. The zebra, in shape, 
 rather resembles the mule than the ass. Its ears are 
 Dot so long as those of the ass, and yet not so small 
 as in the horse-kind. Like the ass its head is Jarge ; 
 its back straight, and its tail tufted at the end ; like 
 the horse, its skin is smooth and close, and its hind 
 quarters round and fleshy. But its great beauty lies 
 in the amazing elegance of its colours. In the male, 
 they are white and brown ; in the female white and 
 black. These colours are disposed in alternate stripes 
 ov.er the whole body, and with such exactness and 
 symmetry, that one would think nature had employed 
 the rule and compass to paint them. These stripes 
 which, like so many ribbons are laid all over its 
 body, are narrow, parallel; and exactly separated 
 from each other. 
 
 It is now not known, what were the pains and the 
 dangers which were first undergone to reclaim the 
 breed of horses from savage ferocity, these no doubt 
 made an equal opposition ; but by bung opposed by 
 an industrious and enterprising race of mankind, their 
 spirit was at last subdued, and their freedom re. 
 strained. 
 
 It is otherwise with regard to the zebra ; it is the 
 
175 
 
 native of countries where the human inhabitants arc 
 but little raised above the quadruped. The natives 
 of Angola or Cafraria, have no other idea of advan- 
 tage from horses^ but as they are good for food ; 
 neither the fine stature of the Arabian courser, nor 
 the delicate colourings of the zebra, have any al* 
 lurements to a race of people who only consider the 
 quantity of flesh, and not its conformation. The 
 delicacy of the zebra's shape, or the painted elegance 
 of iU form, arc no more regarded by such, than by 
 the lion that makes it his prey. Perhaps the zebra 
 may have hitherto continued wild, because it is the 
 native of a country where there have been no ef- 
 forts made to reclaim it. All pursuits then were ra- 
 ther against its life than its liberty ; the animal has 
 thus been long taught to consider man as its mortal 
 enemy: and it rs not to be wondered, that it refuses 
 to yield obedience where it has so seldom experi- 
 enced mercy. 
 
 All animals seem perfectly to know their enemies, 
 and to avoid them at the same time ; which we can. 
 not account for. Instinct, indeed, may teach the 
 deer to fly from the lion ; or the mouse to avoid the 
 cat : but what is the principle that teaches the dog 
 to attack the dog-butcher wherever he sees him ? In 
 China, where the killing and dressing dogs is a trade, 
 whenever one of these move out, all the dogs in 
 the village, or the street, are sure to be after him. 
 
 1 have seen, (says Dr. G ) more than onu instance 
 c'f the same kind among ourselves. I have seen a 
 poor fellow, who made a practice of stealing and kill- 
 ing dogs for their skins, pursued hue and cry for 
 three or four streets together, by all the bolder breed 
 of dogs, while the weaker Hew from his presence 
 with aff right. 
 
 How these animals could thus find out their enemy 
 and pursue him, is unaccountable ; but such is the 
 fact ; and it not only obtains in dogs, but in several 
 other animals, though perhaps to a less degree. 
 The noise of the zebra is neither like that of a, 
 i 4 
 
176 
 
 horse or ass, bnt more resembling the confused bark- 
 ing of a mastiff dog. In the two, which I saw 3 
 there was a circumstance, that seem to have escaped 
 naturalists, which is, that the skin hangs loose below 
 the jaw, upon thcncck,in a kind of dewlap 3 which takes 
 away much from the general beauty. 
 
 The Squirrel is a beautiful little animal ; which 
 from the gentleness of its manners, deserves our pro- 
 tection. It is not hurtful. Its usual food is fruits, 
 nuts, and acorns ; it is cleanly, nimble, active, and 
 Indus! rious ; its eyes are sparkling, and its physiog- 
 nomy marked with meaning. It generally like the 
 hare and rabbit, sits upon its hinder legs, and uses 
 the fore paws as hand, 1 ?; these have five claws as they are 
 called.and one of them is separated from the rest like a 
 thumb. This animal seems to approach the nature 
 of a bird, from its lightness and.surprising agility. It 
 seldom descends to the ground, except in case of 
 storms, but jumps from one branch to another; feeds 
 in spring, on the buds and young shoots, in summer, 
 on the ripening fruits ; and particularly the young 
 coves of the pine tree. In autumn it has an exten. 
 sive variety, the acorn, the filbert, the chesuur, and 
 the wilding. This season of plenty, however, is not 
 spent in idle enjoyment ; the provident little animal 
 gathers at that time its provisions for the winter, and 
 cautiously foresees the season when the forest shall 
 be stripped of its leaves and fruitage. 
 
 Its nest is generally formed among the lar^e 
 branches of a great tree, where they begin to fork off 
 into small ones. After chusing the place where the 
 timber begins to decay, and a hollow may easily be 
 formed, the squirrel begins by making a kind of level 
 between the forks; and then bringing moss, twigs, 
 and dry leaves, it binds them together -with great art, 
 so as to resist the most violent storm. This is covered 
 on all sides, and has but a single opening at top, 
 which is just large enough to admit the little animal ; 
 and this opeuicg is itself defended from the weather 
 
177 
 
 by a kind of canopy that throws off the rain, thougli 
 never so heavy. The nest thus formed with a very 
 little opening above, is nevertheless, very commodious 
 and roomy below : soft, well knit together, and every 
 way convenient and warm. In this retreat the little 
 animal brings forth its young, shelters itself from the 
 heat of the sun, which it seems to fear, and from the 
 storms and inclemency of the winter, which it is still 
 less capable of supporting. Its provision of nuts; 
 and acorns is seldom in its nest, but in the hollosvs of 
 the tree, laid up carefully together, and never touched 
 but in cases of necessity. Thus one single tree serves 
 for a retreat and a store-house, and without leaving 
 it during the winter, the squirrel possesses all those 
 enjoyments that its nature is capable of receiving. 
 
 The Marmot is almost as big as a hare, but is more 
 corpulent than a cat, and has shorter legs. Its head 
 pretty nearly resembles that of a hare, except that its 
 ears are much shorter. It is clothed all orer with 
 very longhair, and a shorter fur below. These are of 
 different colours, black and grey. 
 
 The length of the hair gives the body the appear- 
 ance of greater corpulence than it really has, and at 
 the same time shortens the feet so that its belly seems 
 to touch the ground. Its tail is tufted and well fur* 
 nishcd with hair, and it is carried in a straight direction 
 with its body, it has five claws' behind, and only 
 four before. These it uses as the squirrel does, to 
 carry its food to its month, and it usually sits upon 
 its hinder parts, to feed in the manner of that little 
 animal. It is readily taught to dance, to wield a cud. 
 gel, and to obey the voice of its master. Like the 
 cat, it has an antipathy to the dog, and when it be- 
 comes familiar to the family, and is sure of being sup- 
 ported by his master, it attacks and bites even the 
 largest mastiff. From its squat muscular make, it has 
 great strength joined to great agility. However, it is 
 in general a very inoffensive animal ; and, except 
 its enmity to dog3 ; seems to live in friendship with 
 i 5 
 
178 
 
 every creature, unless when provoked. As its legs 
 are very short, and made somewhat like those of a 
 bear, it is often seen sitting up, and even walking 
 on its hind legs. Like all the hare kind, it runs much 
 swifter up hill than down ; it climbs trees with great 
 t i ase, and runs up the clefts of rocks, or the con- 
 tiguous walls of houses with great facility. 
 
 Those arms which the Hedge-hog possess in minia- 
 ture, the Porcupine has in an enlarged degree. 
 
 In the one, the spines are but an inch long ; in 
 the other, a foot. The Porcupine is about two feet 
 long, and fifteen inches high. It is covered with 
 quills from ten to fourteen inches long, resembling 
 the barrel of a goosequill in thickness ; but tapering 
 and sharp at both ends. Each quill is thickest in 
 the middle : and inserted into the animal's skin, in 
 the same manner as feathers in birds. The biggest 
 are often fifteen inches long, and a quarter of an inch 
 in diameter, extremely sharp, and capable of inflicting 
 a mortal wound. They are harder than common 
 quills, and solid at the end which is not fixed in the 
 skin. All these quills incline backwards, like the 
 bristles of a hog ; but when the animal is irritated, 
 rise and stand upright. 
 
 Such is the formation of this quadruped, in those 
 parts in which it differs from most others. As to the 
 rest of its figure, the muzzle bears some resemblance 
 to that of a hare, but black ; the legs are very short 
 tirid the feet have five toes, both before and behind, 
 and these, as well as the belly, the head, and all 
 other parts of the body, are covered with a sort of 
 short air, like prickles ; there being no part, except 
 the ears and the sole of the foot that is free from 
 them : the ears are thinly covered with very fine 
 hair, and are in shape like those of mankind : the 
 eyes are small like those of a hog, being only one 
 third of an inch from one corner to the other. After 
 the skin is taken off there appears a kind of paps 
 oa those farts of the body trom whence the large 
 
quills proceed ; these are about the size of a small 
 pea, each answering to as many holes as appear oa 
 the outward surface of the skin, and which are about 
 half an inch deep, like as many hollow pipes, wherein 
 the quills are (ixed, as in so many sheaths. 
 
 This animal partakes much of the nature of the 
 hedge-hop; ; having this formidable apparatus rather 
 to defend itself, than annoy the enemy. Indeed many 
 have supposed that it was capable of discharging at 
 its foes, its quills. But, it is now well known that 
 its quills remain fixed in the skin, and are then only 
 shed, when the animal moults. .them* as birds do their 
 feathers. 
 
 The Pangolin, a native of the torrid climates of the 
 ancient continent is, of all animals, the best pro* 
 tected from external injury. It is three or four feet 
 long, or taking in the tail c from six to eight. It has 
 a small head, a very Jong nose, a short thick neck, a 
 long body, legs very short, and a tail extraordinary 
 long. It has no teeth, but is armed with five toes 
 on each foot, with long \vhite claws. Bat what it 
 is chieily distinguished by, is its scaly covering. These 
 scales defend the animal on a!l parts, except the 
 under part of the head and neck, under the shoul- 
 ders, the breast, the belly, and the inner side of the 
 li'gs ; all which parts are covered with a smooth, soft 
 skin, without hair. The scales of this extraordinary 
 creature are of different sizes, arid ditfcrent forms, and 
 stuck upon the body somewhat like the leaves of 
 a?i artichoke. The largest are near the tail, which 
 i-j covtred with them like the rest of the body. These 
 arc above three inches broad, and about* two inches 
 long ; thick in the middle, and sharp at the edges. 
 They are extremely hard, like horn. They are con- 
 vex on the outside, and a little concave on the inner, 
 one edge sticks in the skin, while the other laps over 
 that immcd Intel y behind it. Those that cover the 
 tail are so hard, when the animal has acquired its full 
 growth, as to turn a nuisquet-ball* 
 i 
 
ISO 
 
 This lapped round the rest of the body, and being 
 efendcd with shells even more cutting than any other 
 art, the creature continues in perfect security. Its 
 /hells are so large, so thick, and so pointed, that 
 they repel every animal of prey, they make a coat 
 of armour that wounds while it resists, and at once 
 protects and threatens. The most cruel beasts of the 
 forest, the tiger, the panther, and hyaena, make vain 
 attemp'ts to force it. They roll it about, but all to 
 110 purpose ; the pangolin remains safe while its in. 
 fader feels the reward of its rashness. 
 
 The Armadillo is chiefly an inhabitant of South 
 America; a harmless creature, incapable of offending 
 any other, and furnished with a peculiar covering for 
 its own defence. 
 
 This animal being covered like a tortoise, wkh a 
 shell, or rather a number of shells, its other propor- 
 tions are not easily ditcerncd. It appears at iirst view 
 a round mishapen mass, with a long head, and a very 
 jarge tail sticking out at cither end. 
 
 It is of different sizes, from a foot to three feet 
 Jong, and covered with a shell, divided into several 
 pieces, that lap over each other, like the plates in 
 the tail of a lobster. This covers the head, the 
 neck, the back, the sides, the rump, and the tail to 
 the very point. The only parts to which it does not 
 extend are the throat, the breast, and the belly, which 
 are covered with a white soft skin. By this means 
 the animal has a motion in its back, and the armour 
 gives way to it.s necessary inflexions. These shells are 
 differently coloured in different kinds. But most usu- 
 ally they arc of a dirty grey. This colour in all 
 arises from another peculiar circumstance in their 
 conformation; for the shell itself is covered with a 
 softish skinj which is smooth and transparent. 
 
 Beasts may be considered as a numerous groupe, 
 terminated on every side by some, that but in part 
 deserve the name. On one quarter we see a tribe 
 
181 
 
 covered with quills, or furnished with wings, that 
 lift them among the inhabitants of the air, on ano- 
 ther, we behold a diversity clothed with scales and 
 ghells, to rank with insects ; and still on a third, we 
 sec them descending into the waters, to live among the 
 mute tenants of that clement. We now come to a 
 numerous tribe, that seem to make approaches even 
 to humanity, that bear an aukward resemblance of 
 the human form, and discover the same faint efforts 
 at intellectual sagacity. 
 
 Animals of the monkey class are furnished with 
 hands instead of paws, their ears, eyes, eye-lids, lips, 
 and breasts, are like those of mankind : their internal 
 conformation also bears some distant likeness; and 
 the whole triers a picture that may mortify the pride 
 of such as make their persons the principal objects of 
 their admirations. 
 
 These approaches, however, are gradual, and some 
 bear the marks of our fornijUiore strongly than others. 
 
 In the Ape-kind we see the whole external ma- 
 chine strongly impressed with the human likeness ; 
 these walk upright ; want a tail, have fleshy posteri- 
 or?, have calves to their legs, and feet nearly like ours. 
 
 In the Baboon. kind, we perceive a more distant 
 approach ; the beast mixing in every part of the 
 animal's figure, these generally go upon all fours; 
 but some, when upright, are as tall as a man : they 
 have short tails, long snouts,, and are possessed of 
 brutal fierceness. 
 
 The Monkey-kind are removed a step further : 
 these are much less ; with tails as long as their bo. 
 dies, and flattish faces. 
 
 Lastly, the Opossum- kind, seem to lose all resem. 
 blance of the human figure, except in having bands, 
 their noses are lengthened out, and every part of 
 
182 
 
 their bodies totally different from the human ; 
 ever, as they grasp their food, with one hand, which 
 beasts cannot do, this single similitude gives them an 
 air of sagacity, to which they have scarce any other 
 pretensions. 
 
 The Baboon, is from three to four feet high, very 
 strong built, with a thick body and limbs, and cauinr 
 teeth, much longer than those of men. It walks 
 more commonly upon all fours than upright, and its 
 hands as well as its feet are armed with Jong, sharp 
 claws, instead of the broad, round nails of the ape- 
 kind. 
 
 At the Cape of Good Hope, they are under a sort 
 of natural discipline, and go about whatever they un- 
 dertake with surprising skill and regularity. When 
 they set about robbing an orchard or vineyard, (for 
 they are extremely fond of grapes, and apples) they 
 go in large companies, and with pre-concerted delibe- 
 ration ; part of them enter the enclosure, while one 
 is set to watch. The rest stand without the fence, 
 and form a line reaching ail the way from their fellows 
 within to the rendezvous without, which is generally 
 in some craggy mountain. Every thing being thus 
 disposed, the plunderers within the orchard throw the 
 fruit to those that are without as fast as they can ga- 
 ther it ; or, if the wall or hedge be high, to those 
 that sit on the top ; and these hand the plunder to 
 those next them on the other side. Thus the fruit is 
 pitched from one to another all along the line, till it is 
 safely deposited at their head quarters. They catch it 
 as readily as the most skilful tennis-player can a bail; 
 and while the business is going forward, a profound 
 silence is observed. Their sentinel, during this whole 
 time, continues upon the watch, and if he perceives 
 any one x coming, instantly sets up a loud cry, on which 
 signal, the whole company scamper off. Nor yet 
 are they willing to go empty handed ; for if they be 
 plundering a bed of melons, for instance, they go off 
 with one in their mouths, one in their hands, and one 
 under their arm. N If the pursuit is hot, they drop first 
 that from under their arm, then that from their hand ; 
 
183 
 
 anil, if it be continued, they at last let fall that which 
 they had kept in their mouths. 
 
 The Chimpanaze is an animal found in Angola, 
 nearly approaching to the human figure ; but of a 
 fierce disposition, and remarkably mischievous. la 
 the year 1738, one of these creatures was brought 
 over to England. It was about twenty months old. 
 [The parent had it in her arms, when she was kil. 
 led ; she was five feet high.] It was of the female 
 sex, naturally walked erect, was hairy on some part 
 of the body and limbs, and of a strong, muscular 
 make. It would eat any coarse food, but was very 
 fond of tea, which it drank out of a cup, with milk 
 and sugar, as we do. It slept in the manner of the 
 human species, and its voice resembled the human, 
 when people speak very hastily ; but without any 
 articulate sounds. The males of' this species are very 
 bold, and will fight a man, though he is armed. It is 
 said they often assault and ravish the negro women^ 
 when they meet them in the woods. 
 
 There is another strange species of monkey found 
 in the West Indies, of the size of a Fox. Its lace i* 
 raised high, its eyes black and shining, and its ears 
 Small and round. His hairs are so nicely disposed 
 all over the body, that he appears 'perfectly smooth: 
 and they are much longer under the chin, so that they 
 form a kind of beard there. 
 
 These are found in great numbers in the woods,and 
 make a loud and frightful noise. But it is very com. 
 mon for one only to make a, noise, and the rest to 
 form amute assembly round him. 
 
 Marcgrave says, a I have frequently seen great 
 numbers of them, meeting about noon : at which 
 time they formed a large circle, and one placing him- 
 self above the rest, began to make a loud noise. 
 When he had sung thus by himself, for some time, 
 the rest all remaining silent, he lifted up his hand, 
 and they all instantly joined in a sort of chorus. 
 
This intolerable yell continued, till the same mon. 
 key, who gave the signal for their beginning, lifted 
 up his hand a second time. On this they were 
 all silent again, and so finished the business of the 
 assembly. 
 
 The Opossum, is about the size of a Cat, only 
 jr.ore corpulent, and its legs more robust. It is of a 
 kind of Chcsnut colour, very bright and glossy. Its 
 head is long, and terminates in a snout, somewhat like 
 a Fox's. The tail is long, and much resembles that 
 of a rat, which it twists about with a surprising faci- 
 lity. The legs being short, the body is carried at no 
 great distance from the ground. On the belly of the 
 female, a bag is formed by the skin being doubled. 
 Jt is not very deep, the closest part being toward the 
 upper part of the body, and the open part toward 
 the lower. This is covered with fur, like the rest 
 of the body, so that it is not very obvious to the 
 sight. 
 
 It is a harmless, but likewise a defenceless animal : 
 and the young of no creature, are produced so small 
 and tender, in respect of the parent animal. There- 
 fore that bag is extremely useful to them. They are 
 cherished by the warmth of the parent's body, till ta- 
 \vard noon : then they go abroad till at the first 
 warning by the evening cold, they retire in-to their 
 lodging again* Nor is this all the help which it af- 
 fords. For as the tender young of the opossum are 
 delicate morsels, they would be exposed to the rage 
 of many animals, both by day and night. But the 
 body of the parent is a safe and ready receptacle for 
 them. By (lay she is us watchful over her brood as a 
 hen over her chickens. She is alarmed at the slight- 
 est appearance of danger, and by a noise which they 
 wellmidcrstand, instantly calls them into her bag. 
 At night she constantly takes them in, and consults 
 for herself and them in a very uncommon manner. 
 There are those among the devourers of her young, 
 who will climb a tree after her. Therefore when she 
 
185 
 
 lias'climbnK to secure herself and her young still far* 
 ther, she twists her tail twice round some small bough, 
 and then drops from it. There she hangs with her 
 head downward : and whenever she pleases, she reco-* 
 verslhe branch with her feet by a swing, and loosen- 
 ing her 'tail, walks about as usual. 
 
 To enable her thus to hang, there are spikes or 
 hooks in the under side of the vertebre of the tail. 
 Indeed, in the first three vertebre there are none ; for 
 they would be of no use. But they are found in all 
 the rest. They are placed just at the articulation of 
 each joint, and in the middle from the sides. No* 
 filing could be more advantageously contrived. For 
 \vhcnthe tail is twisted round a bough, these hooks 
 easily sustain the weight. And there is no more la- 
 bour of the muscles required, than just to bow or 
 crook the tail. 
 
 Another animal of a very peculiar kind is an IcJu 
 neuraon. It is of the weasel-kind, with a longer and 
 narrower body than a cat, something approaching to 
 the shape and colour of a badger. Its nose is black 
 and sharp, like that of a ferret. Its colour is a yel- 
 lowish grey. Its legs are short, and each of its feet 
 has five toes. Its tail is very long; its teeth and 
 tongue much like those of a cat. It is a very cleanly 
 animal, very brisk and nimble, and of great courage. 
 It will engage a dog, and will destroy a cat, by three 
 bites on the throat. But it is quite inoffensive to'man- 
 kind, and is kept tame in Egypt, running about the 
 house, destroying all vermin, and playing tricks, like 
 spaniels. 
 
 When wild, he cannot overtake any nimble animal. 
 But he makes this up by assiduity. His h-gs being 
 short, he is not much seen ; but he has a way of con. 
 cealing himself yet more, by crawling with his belly 
 close to the ground, which he does all day long. But 
 on the least noise (for his hearing is exceeding quick) 
 he starts up erect on his hinder legs. If the noise is 
 made by any reptile, bird, or small beast, he observes 
 
186 
 
 whereabouts it is, places his nose directly in a line, 
 with it, and begins to move toward it. He is silent 
 and slow, but constant in his approach ; often sf&p- 
 ping to hear or look forward, and knows exactly 
 wherethe creature is : when he is got within about 
 five feet, he stops. Nature, which has denied him 
 speed, has given him strength to leap, beyond most 
 other creatures. Having taken good ujm, he springs 
 from the place, and falls directly on his prey, Thus 
 he deals with beasts and birds. But to serpents ho 
 gives chacc, and to avoid their bite, always seizes them 
 by the neck* 
 
 Gcsncr tells, that the Ichneumon is not only an 
 enemy to serpents themselves, but to their eggs also : 
 which he hunts after continually and dcstroys,though 
 he does not feed upon them. How mercifully has 
 God given this animal in the countries where those 
 terrible reptiles most abound ! And which, without 
 this provision, would be so over.run with thcm ; as to 
 be uninhabitable. 
 
 The Jackal is of the carnivorous kind. They 
 hunt by scent and go in packs* They pursue with 
 patience, rather than swiftness, and excite each other 
 by a spirit of emulation. 
 
 Jt goes for current that the Jackal discovers the 
 lion's prey ; that each of these retains one of them, 
 and having satisfied himself, lets his dependent feed on 
 the offals of his repast. 
 
 But the truth is, there are great numbers of jack- 
 als in some woods, and when one of these sees a stag, 
 or other large beast, which is not a beast of prey, he 
 sets up his cry, which is like that of a hound and 
 follows it. As he continues his cry, the other Jack, 
 als that are within hearing follow likewise. And 
 could the creature outrun those that began the chace, 
 there is a continual supply ; so that it cannot escape. 
 When they have run it down, they worry it at once, 
 and it is devoured almost in an instant. After this 
 the jackals disperse, till another cry invites them. 
 
187 
 
 They hunt generally in the night, and <;. flic parts 
 of the East where they are most frequent, there never 
 is a night but they are heard, in one part or other of 
 the woods. The other beasts of prey understand the 
 sound : and frequently profit by it. If a lion, tyger, 
 or leopard happens to be near, he hears the cry, and 
 stands upon the watch. These large animals are all 
 Tcry swift, but they are lazy, and never make long 
 pursuits. If the creatures pursued be far off, and 
 runs another way, they never trouble themselves 
 about it. But if it be near, or if it runs toward the 
 place where the lion is, he will dart out upon it as it 
 goes by. And the little animals that hunted it down 
 must stand by, and be content with what their master 
 leaves* 
 
 The Sable-mice, (which were first observed in 
 Lapland, in 1697) are near as big as a small squirrel. 
 Their skin is streaked and spotted with black and 
 light brown. They have two teeth above, and two 
 under, very sharp and pointed. Their feet are like 
 a squirrel's. They are so fierce, that if a stick be 
 held out to them, they will bite it, and hold so fast, 
 that they may be swinged about in the air. In their 
 march they keep a direct line, generally from north- 
 east to south-west. Innumerable thousands are in 
 each troop, which is usually a square. They He still 
 by day, and march by night. The distance of the 
 lines they go in, parallel to each other, is of some ells. 
 Whatever they meet in their way, though it were a 
 fire, a deep well, a torrent, lake, or morass, they 
 avoid it not, but rush forward. By this means many 
 thousands of them are destroyed. If they are met 
 swimming over a lake, and are forced out of their 
 course, they quickly return into it again. If they 
 are met in woods or fields and stopt, they raise them, 
 selves on their hinder legs, like a dog, and make a 
 kind of barking noise, leaping up as high as a man's 
 knee, and defending their line as long as they can. 
 if at last they are forced out of it, they creep into 
 
188 
 
 holes, and set up a cry, sounding like blab, biab. 
 If a house stands in their way, they never come into 
 it, but stop there till they die. But they will cat 
 their way through a stack of corn or hay. When 
 they march through a meadow, they eat the roots of 
 the grass : and if they encamp there by day, they 
 utterly spoil it, and make it look just as if it had been 
 burnt. They are exceeding fruitful ; but their breed- 
 ing does not hinder their march. For some of them 
 have been observed to carry one young in their 
 mouth, arid another upon their bark. In winter they 
 live under the snow, having their breathing-holes, as 
 hares and other creatures have. 
 
 I would mention only two creatures more > very ex. 
 traordinary, and yet but little known. 
 
 The Glutton is frequent in the forests of Germany. 
 It is rarely seen twice of the same figure. It is of the 
 \veasel-kind, and is in its middle state, about the size 
 of a turn-spit dog. Its body is Iong 3 its legs short, 
 Its colour is brown, with a reddish tinge; but its 
 breast and belly are white, The tail is long and 
 bushy : the head small and sharp at the nose. The 
 teeth are exceeding sharp, and the claws sharper than, 
 almost in any creature. 
 
 This is the most hungry animal in the world, but is 
 ill provided for catching its prey. Most creatures can 
 out-run it, and itself can scarce run away from any 
 thing. But what he wants in swiftness, he has in 
 climbing, which he performs to admiration : its sharp 
 claws enabling it to run up a tree as fast as on the 
 ground. Its usual place is some large and spreading 
 oak, chose both for safety and for catching its prey, 
 lie- squats all day on some large branch ; and if 
 nothing offers below, he preys in the night on what- 
 ever creatures he can find on the tree above. Many 
 birds roost on such trees, which he climbs softly to, 
 and devours. But his favourite food is larger animals. 
 He will lie many days on a slanting bough \ and 
 
189 
 
 when any which he likes comes underneath, he drops 
 down upon them. Hares and rabbits seldom escape 
 him ; but he chooses rather a goat, or any crea- 
 ture of that size. When one of these comes under 
 the tree, he creeps from bough to bough, till he comes 
 just over it, and then drops down upon it. He al- 
 ways contrives to fasten on the neck. In an instant 
 he fixes both his teeth and claws, and lies across the 
 neck, near the shoulders. Here he is secure; and while 
 the poor creature runs with all its speed, he is feed- 
 ing on its tiesh. At length it drops, and he conti- 
 nues eating in the same ravenous manner, till from a 
 mere skeleton, his back becomes round, and his sides 
 swelled out like a ton. Still he continues to eat, till 
 he can eat no longer. He too drops down, and lies 
 panting for breath. He resembles a dead carcase, 
 swelled and ready to burst with lying in the sun : 
 and being unable to move for a long time, is fre- 
 quently destroyed, and sometimes perishes without an 
 enemy. 
 
 The God of nature seems to have formed the Sloth, 
 to represent to us in a strong light, that odious and 
 despicable vice, from which it takes its name. Its 
 body is short, its head small, and it has scarce any 
 tail. Its fur is long, thick, and of a greyish green, 
 so that when seen on the bough of a tree, it appears 
 only like an excrescence or a cluster of moss. It is 
 about the size of a cat, but the legs are short, as is 
 the neck : and its long and thick covering, renders it 
 so shapeless, that it seems only an irregular lump of 
 Unrig matter. Its little and remarkably ugly head 
 stands close between the shoulders. The face has 
 much of the monkey aspect. Its small and heavy 
 eyes, are always half shut, and it has no appearance 
 at all of any cars. Its feet are flat and very narrow, 
 but armed with sharp claws, for laying hold on the 
 bark of a tree, by striking deep into it. 
 
 He rarely changes his place ; and never, but when 
 compelled by absolute necessity. As upon the ground 
 
190 
 
 it would be a prey to every other animal, so its con. 
 stant residence is on a tree. Here it is safe from all 
 animals, but those who climb these trees for the birds 
 that roost on them. The leaves and tender part of 
 the tree are its food, and serve it for drink as well as 
 meat. It never moves to another branch, till it has 
 devoured all the nourishment upon that where it is 
 stationed: nor from one tree to another, till the first 
 is wholly withered and wasted. 
 
 It is observable, the Sloth always ascends to the 
 top of a tree, only baiting as he goes, before he begins 
 his devastations. And this is doubtless from the in. 
 stinctive guidance of nature. For was it to begin eat. 
 ing upward, when it had devoured all, it would have 
 to climb down from the top of a dead tree, and would 
 behalf starved in its journey. But this is not all. 
 The havoc which one sloth makes on the largest tree 
 is easily seen. For he eats not only the leaves, but 
 all the buds and bark , leaving only a dead branch : 
 so that unless the same thing might happen by accident 
 this would betray the creature. It does so happen; 
 and trees then put on the same form, as when they 
 are left by the sloth. But they always die at the top 
 first, and so gradually downward. This animal there- 
 fore, wonderfully taught, begins its havoc at the 
 top.^ As it feeds, the tree decays ; but its decay is 
 in the course of nature. The decay spreads down, 
 ward ; and when he has eaten the last of his pro- 
 vision, he is near the ground, and has only to walk 
 away to another tree. But if it is at any distance, 
 hjis motion is so slow, that he grows quite lean in the 
 expedition. 
 
 As the Sloth brings forth her young in the hollow 
 of a tree, so is she led by the same wonderful in. 
 stinct to conduct them to the topmost branches, as 
 soon as they crawl out. When she is big with young, 
 she climbs some old, hollow tree ; and having fixed 
 on a convenient spot for her young, she climbs to the 
 very highest bough, and there feeds faster than usual. 
 When she is fu41, she descends with unaccustomed 
 
191 
 
 haste, and brings forth one, two, or three young 
 ones. It is well she is full fed ; for she is to support 
 these with her milk, till they can crawl out, without 
 having any supply herself. She is round and fleshy 
 when she retires tor this purpose, but a mere skeleton 
 when she comes out. She crawls as well as she can, 
 to the part where she left off feeding, and her young 
 follow her. Nor will she touch any thing in the 
 way, however both her hunger and laziness may prompt 
 her to it. * 
 
 It is the most timorous of all creatures. And with 
 reason : for it can neither fight nor fly. While it is 
 journeying on the ground, the tread of a human foot 
 shakes the earth enough to put it into terrors. It 
 trembles : the head is turned about every way, and 
 the mouth is open to cry like a young kitten. 
 
 Insignificant as this creature is, there is a special 
 Providence in the formation and care of it. Not de- 
 signed for walking, its claws enable it to climb, and 
 then to hold fast in its station. Helpless as it is, the 
 universal Provider has assigned it a place of safety, 
 where it finds plenty of food ; and as it cannot easily 
 seek for drink, it has no need of any. To render it 
 the less obnoxious to pursuit, its colour secures it 
 even from view : and its amazing instinct of feeding 
 from the top to the bottom, proves a designing and 
 directing Hand. 
 
 Before I proceed to some general reflections upon 
 beasts, I beg leave to take notice of one circumstance, 
 relating to several species of them, which is very 
 
 strange, though very common. The horns of many 
 
 animals fall olf every year, and new ones come in 
 theirplace. Our deer drop them in March, and the 
 new horns are full grown by the July following. We 
 may justly rank this, among the most wonderful phe. 
 nomeua of nature, which yields nothing analogous to 
 the growth of such hard solid bodies, of so great a 
 bulk, in so short a time. Many idle opinions have 
 been maintained, concerning the cause of their falling 
 
f 192 
 
 off. The truth seems to be this : they are a sort of 
 vegetables, growing on- animals, as the oasis and hair 
 on man, and feathers on birds. And there is some 
 analogy between the growth of them, and that of 
 branches and leaves on trees. Trees commonly drop 
 their leaves in autumn, because the nourishing juice 
 flows into them no longer. And at certain periods, 
 these parts of die animal drop oiF, because the blood 
 and juices cease to flow in them. At this time, the 
 hollow part at the root of the horn grows hard, and 
 the pores through which the juices passed, grows up. 
 And as no more nourishment can then be carried to 
 the horn, it decays and falls off. It is probable this 
 stoppage of the pores happens, as soon as the horns 
 are at their full growth. But they are so fixed to the 
 head, that it takes a long time for them to loosen and 
 fall. Whereas in leaves, their stalks are so tender, 
 that when the juice ceases to flow, they presently 
 wither and fall. 
 
 The analogy between the falling off of decrs horns 
 and the falling of leaves and ripe fruit from the 
 tree, will receive light from observing the process of 
 nature in the latter case. If the stalk from which a 
 ripe orange has fallen, be compared with that part of 
 a deer's forehead, fro'n which a horn is just fallen, it 
 will plainly appear that nature has operated by the 
 samelaws in both. The young horns, while yet soft, 
 are full of blood-vessels ; and if cut oil', especially 
 near the head, bleed violently. By these vessels 
 they are supplied with nourishment for their 
 growth. But these dry up, when there is im farther 
 occasion for them. And hence it is, that no ill symp- 
 toms attend the failing oil of these parts, when full 
 grown. 
 
 So far we may give a probable account: But 
 
 who can account for this, that if a stag be castrated, 
 while he is so young as not to have horns, he will never 
 have any : and if castrated afterward^ while his horns 
 are on, he will never cast them J 
 
193 
 
 10. It remains only to add a few reflections. And 
 first, what admirable wisdom is displayed, in the mo- 
 tion of various animals, suited to their various occa- 
 sions ! In some, their motion is swift; in others, 
 slow ; and both diversified a thousand ways. 
 
 And first, for swift or slow motion. This is exactly 
 proportioned to the occasion of each animal. .Rep. 
 tiles, whose food, habitation, and nests lie in the next 
 clod, plant, tree, or hole, or which can bear long 
 hunger, need neither legs, nor wings, but their vermi- 
 cular motion answers all their purposes. 
 
 Beasts, whose occasions require a larger room, have 
 accordingly a swifter motion : and this in various de- 
 grees, answerable to their range for food, and the ene- 
 mies they are to escape from. 
 
 But as for birds who are to traverse vast tracts of 
 land and water, for their food, habitation, breeding 
 their young, and for places of retreat and security, 
 from various inconveniences : they are endued with 
 the faculty of flying ; and that swiftly or slowly, a 
 long or short time, according to their occasions. In 
 all this, the wisdom of God appears, ordering all 
 things well. 
 
 Again. I low admirable in the motion of all crea- 
 tures, is the neat, geometrical performance of it ! The 
 most accurate mathematician cannot prescribe a nicer 
 motion than that they perform, to the legs and wings 
 of those that fly or valk, or to the bodies of those 
 that creep. IN either can the body be more completely 
 poised, for the motion it is to have in every creature. 
 From the largest elephant to the smallest mite, the 
 body is exactly balanced. The head is not too heavy, 
 nor too light for the rest of the body, nor the rest of 
 the body for it. The bowels are not too loose, or so 
 placed as to swag, overbalance, or overset the body ; 
 but well braced, and accurately distributed to main, 
 tain the equipoise of it. The motive parts also are 
 admirably well fixed, in respect to the centre of gra- 
 vity, placed in the very poiatr which best serves to 
 support and convey the body* Every leg bears its 
 
 VOL. i, & 
 
194 
 
 true share of the weight. Aud the wings are so ex- 
 actly placed, that even in the fluid medium, the air, 
 the body is as truly balanced, as we could have ba- 
 lanced it with the nicest scales. 
 
 Yet again. What an admirable provision is made 
 for the motion of some creatures, by temporary 
 parts ! Frogs, for instance, have tails in their tad. 
 pole state, which fall off when their legs are grown 
 out. The water-ne\vt also, when young, has four 
 fins, two on a side, to poise and keep the body up- 
 right. But as soon as the legs are fully grown, these 
 presently drop off. 
 
 Secondly, the bore of the gullet in all creatures, is 
 answerable to their occasions. In a fox, which feeds 
 on .bones, (as in all ossivorous beasts) it is very large. 
 But in a squirrel it is exceeding small, lest he should 
 disgorge his meat in his descending leaps : and so in 
 rats and mice, which often run along a wall with their 
 heads downward. 
 
 Thirdly, In all animals the strength and size of 
 their stomach are proportioned to their food. Those 
 whose food is more tender and nutritive, have 
 it smaller 5 thinner, and weaker. Whereas it is 
 large and strong in those whose food is less nutritive, 
 and whose bodies require large supplies. 
 
 All carnivorous beasts have the smallest stomachs, 
 as flesh goes 'he farthest. Those that feed on fruits 
 and roots have them of a middle size. Sheep and 
 oxen, which feed on grass, have the greatest. Yet 
 the horse, hare, and rabbit, though granivorous, have 
 comparatively small ones. For a horse is made fur la- 
 botir, and both this and the hare for quick and con- 
 tinued motion : for which the most easy respiration 
 and so the freest motion of the diaphragm is requisite. 
 But this could not be, did the stomach lie big and 
 cumbersome upon it, as it does in sfoeep and oxen. 
 
 Another very remarkable circumstance is, that 
 those animals which have teeth on both jaws, have 
 but one stomach ; whereas most of those winch have 
 
195 
 
 no tipper-teeth, or no teeth at all, have three sto- 
 machs. For the meat which is first chewed, is easily 
 digested ; but that which is swallowed whole, require? 
 a stronger concoctive power. 
 
 Fourthly, All the parts of the same animal are 
 adapted one to the other. So for instance, the length 
 of the neck is always proportioned to that of the 
 legs. Only the elephant has a short neck : for the 
 weight of his head and teeth, would to a long neck, 
 have been insupportable. But then he is provided 
 with a trunk, which abundantly supplies the defect. 
 In other beasts and birds, the neck is always com- 
 mensurate to the legs : so that they which have long 
 legs, have long necks, and they that have short legs, 
 short ones ; as may be observed in lizards of all kinds 
 and the king of them, the crocodile. And creatures 
 that have no legs, as they want no necks, so they 
 have none, as fishes. This equality between the 
 length of the neck and legs, is peculiarly seen in 
 beasts that feed on grass. Their legs and necks are 
 very near equal. Very near, I say, because the 
 neck must necessarily have some advantage ; for 
 it cannot hang u perpendicular, but must incline a 
 little. 
 
 Moreover, as these creatures must hold their heads 
 down, for a considerable time together, which would 
 be very laborious and painful for the muscles, there- 
 fore on each side of the neck, nature has placed a 
 thick and strong ligament, capable of stretching and 
 shrinking again as need requires : this, which is vul- 
 garly called white leather, extends from the head (to 
 which, and the next vertebre of the neck it is fasten, 
 ed at that end) to the middle vertebre of the back, to 
 which it is knit at the other. And by the assistance 
 of this, they are able to hold the head in that posture 
 all day long. 
 
 Fifthly, The parts of all animals are exactly fitted 
 to their manner of living. A notable instance of this 
 
196 
 
 is in the Swine. His natural food being chiefly the 
 roots of plants, he is provided with a long and strong 
 snout ; long, that he may thrust it to a convenient 
 depth in the ground, without offence to his eyes ; 
 strong and conveniently formed, for rooting and 
 turning up the ground. And besides, he has an ex- 
 tremely quick scent, for finding out such roots as arc 
 fit for him. Hence in Italy, the usual way of finding 
 truffles, or subterraneous mushrooms, is by tying a 
 cord to the hind.leg of a pig, and driving him before 
 them into their pastures. They then observe where 
 he stops and begins to root : and digging there they 
 are sure to find a truffle. So in pastures where 
 there are earth-nuts, though the roots are deep in 
 the ground, and the leaves are quite gone, the swine 
 will find them by their scent, and root only in the 
 places where they grow. 
 
 Another instance of like nature we have in the 
 porpus (anciently written porc-pesce, that is, Swine- 
 fish) which resembles the hog, both in the strength of 
 his snout and in the manner of getting his food. 
 For the stomach of one of these when dissected, was 
 found full of sand-eels, which lie deep in the sand, 
 and cannot be gotten, but by rooting and digging 
 there. 
 
 That very action, for which we look upon swine 
 as unclean creatures, namely 9 wallowing in the mire, 
 is designed by nature for a good end ; not only to 
 cool their bodies (which fair water would do as wellj 
 but also to suffocate and destroy fleas, lice, aud other 
 insects, which are troublesome and hurtful to them. 
 For the same reason, poultry and divers other 
 birds bask themselves in the dust, in hot summer wea- 
 ther. 
 
 The variety of shape and colour observable in 
 beasts, prevents any two from being exactly alike, 
 as much as the human features distinguish mankind 
 one from another. Wherefore then was this variety 
 bestowed upon brutes ? Are they at all sensible of 
 
197 
 
 such diversity ? Are they the more happy, or more 
 useful to one another for it ? No. This variety 
 then is doubtless intended for the sake of roan, to 
 prevent confusion^ and decide and ascertain his pro 
 perty. 
 
198 
 
 CHAP. II. 
 
 OF BIRDS. 
 
 1. Some general Reparka : 6. Stomach and Bladder i 
 
 2. Of their Motio^ i 7. Generation. 
 
 3- Brain: 8, Of gome particular Sorts of 
 
 4. Organs of Sensos Birdi. 
 
 5, Lungs s 0. Reaections, 
 
 :.No 
 
 part of nature is destitute of inhabitants. The 
 woods, the waters, the depths of the earth, have their 
 respective tenants ; while the yielding air, and those 
 tracts where man never can ascend, are also passed 
 through by multitudes of the most beautiful beings of 
 the creation. 
 
 Every order of animals is fitted for its situation in 
 life: but none more apparently than birds. Though 
 they fall below beasts in the scale of nature, yet they 
 hold the next rank, and far surpass fishes and in- 
 sects, both in the structure of their bodies and in their 
 sagacity. 
 
 The body of man presents the greatest variety : beasts, 
 less perfectly formed, discover their defects in the sim 
 plicity of their conformation : the mechanism of birds 
 is yet less complex : fishes are furnished with fewer or- 
 gans still ; while insects, more imperfect than all, fill 
 up the chasm between animal and vegetable nature. 
 Of man, the m6st perfect animal, there are but three 
 or four species ; the kinds of beasts are more nume- 
 rous ; birds are more various still ; fishes yet more; 
 but insects afford an immense variety. 
 
109 
 
 Iii all birds, except nocturnal ones, the head is 
 smaller, and bears less proportion to the body than ii\ 
 beasts, that it may the more readily divide the air in 
 flying. Their eyes also are more flat and depressed, 
 and a circle of small plates of bone, placed scale-wise 
 under the outer coat of the organ, encompasses the 
 pupil on each side to strengthen and defend it from in- 
 juries. Besides this, birds have a kind of skin called 
 the nictitating membrane, with which, like a veil, they 
 can at pleasure cover their eyes, though their eyelids 
 continue open. This membrane serves also to wipe, 
 cleanse, and probably to moisten its surface. The 
 eyes, though they outwardly appear but small, yet 
 each almost equals the brain ; whereas in man the 
 brain is more than twenty times larger than the eye. 
 
 Hence it follows that the senso of seeing in birds U 
 infinitely superior to that of other animals. Indeed 
 this piercing sight seems necessary to the creature's 
 support and safety. Were it not so, from thfi rapidity 
 of tlie bird's motion, it would be apt to strike against 
 every object in its way, and it could scarcely fwdsub. 
 sistence unless it could discern its food from above with 
 astonishing sagacity. A hawk, for instance, perceives 
 a lark at a distance, which neither men nor dogs could 
 spy ; and a kite, from an almost imperceptible height 
 darts down on its prey with the most unerring aim. 
 
 Granivorous birds, or such as live upon vegetables, 
 have their intestines differently formed from those of 
 the rapacious kind. Their gullet dilates just above the 
 breast. bone, and forms itself into a pouch or bag called 
 the crop. This is replete with saliva! glands, which 
 moisten and soften the food it contains. After the dry 
 food of the bird has been macerated, it passes into the 
 belly, where, instead of a soft moist stomach, as in 
 the rapacious kinds, it is ground between two pair of 
 muscles, commonly called the gizzard, covered on the 
 inside with a strong ridgy coat. These coats rubbing 
 again jt each o*her, are capable of attenuating thf 
 hardest substances ; their action being often compar. 
 K 4 
 
goo 
 
 ed to that of the grinding teeth in man and other 
 animals. 
 
 Thus the organs of digestion are in a manner revers- 
 ed in birds. Beasts grind their food with their teeth, 
 and then it passes into the stomach, where it is soft- 
 ened and digested. On the contrary, birds of this 
 sort first soften it in the crop, and then it is ground 
 and comminuted in the stomach or gizzard. Birds are 
 all careful to pick sand, grave! 5 and other hard sub- 
 stances, not to grind their food, as has been supposed, 
 but to prevent the too violent actiun of the coats of the 
 stomach against each other. 
 
 To birds, the return of spring is the beginning of 
 pleasure. Those vital spirits which seemed locked up 
 during winter, then begin to expand ; vegetables and 
 insects supply abundance of food ; and the bird having 
 more than a sufficiency for its own subsistence, is im- 
 pelled to transfuse life as well as to maintain it. Those 
 warblings which had been hushed during the colder sea- 
 sons, now begin to animate the fields; every grove 
 and bush resounds with the challenge of anger, or the 
 call of allurement. The delightfril concert of the grove, 
 which is so much admired by man, is no way studied 
 for his amusement : it is the call of the male to the fe- 
 male; his efforts to sooth her during the time of 
 incubation, or a challenge between two males for the 
 affections of some common favourite. 
 
 It is by this call that birds begin to pair at the ap- 
 proach of spring, and provide for the support of a fu- 
 ture progeny. The loudest notes are usually from the 
 male ; the hen expresses her consent in a short inter, 
 rupted twittering. Their compact holds with unbroken 
 faith : most birds live with inviolable fidelity together, 
 and when one dies the other is always seen to share 
 the same fate soon after. We must look for it in our 
 fields and in our forests, where nature continues in 
 unadulterated simplicity ; where the number of males 
 is generally equal to that of females : but the male of 
 all wild birds is as happy in the young brood as the 
 
201 
 
 female. They both seem, at this season, transported 
 with pleasure ; every action testifies their tender so- 
 licitude. 
 
 But previous to laying, the work of nestling be. 
 comes the common care, and this is performed with no 
 small degree of assiduity. It has been asserted that 
 birds of one kind always make their nests in the same 
 manner, and of the same materials ; but the truth is, 
 they vary this as the materials, places, or climates 
 differ. The red-breast, in some parts of England, 
 makes its nest with oak leaves, where they are in 
 plenty, and in other parts with moss and hair. Same 
 birds that with us make a very warm nest, are less so* 
 licitous in the warm climates. In general, however, 
 every species of birds has a peculiar architecture of its 
 own, and this adapted to the number of eggs, the tern. 
 ' perature of the climate, or the heat of the animal's 
 body. \Vhcre the eggs arc numerous, the nest is warm, 
 that the animal's heat may be equally diffused to them 
 all. Thus the wren, and all the small birds, make 
 their nests very warm, for having many eggs, it is re- 
 quisite to distribute warmth to them all ; on the con- 
 trary, the plover, that has bat two eggs, the eagle, 
 and the crow, are not so solicitous in this respect as 
 their bodies are capable of being applied to the small 
 number upon which th.ry sit. 
 
 Nothing can exceed the patience of birds while 
 hatching; neither hunger nor danger can drive thera 
 from the nest. They are fat upon beginning to sit, 
 yet before incubation is over, are usually wasted to 
 skin and bone. Indeed ravens and crows, while the 
 females are silting, take care to provide them with 
 food in abundance. But it is different with most of the 
 smaller kinds; during the whole *ime the male sits 
 near his mate upon some tree, and sooths her by his 
 singing ; and often when she is tired takes her 
 place, and patiently continues on the nest till she 
 returns. 
 
 So great is the power of instinct in these animals, 
 that they continue almost passive under its influence, 
 K 5 
 
202 
 
 Yet, at the same time, the hen that has all this seeming 
 ingenuity, in other respects., is without the least glim- 
 merings of common sense; she mistakes a piece of 
 chalk for an egg, and sets upon it in the same manner : 
 she is insensible of any increase or diminution in the 
 number of those she lays : she does not distinguish be. 
 tween her own and those of another species ; and when 
 the birth appears of never so different a bird, will 
 cherish it for her own. 
 
 As the principle which acts in these animals cannot 
 be termed reason, so when we call it instinct, we mean 
 something we have no knowledge of. It appears to 
 me the immediate direction of Providence ; and such 
 an operation of the Supreme Being as that which de- 
 termines all the portions of matter to their proper 
 centres. 
 
 While the young arc yet unfledged, the old one 
 takes care to provide them with a regular supply ; 
 when the family is fully plumed, and capable of avoid- 
 ing danger by Sight, they are then led forth when the 
 weather is fine, and taught the paternal art of provid- 
 ing for their subsistence. They are led to the places 
 ivhere their food lies ; they are shewn the method of 
 discovering or carrying it away ; and then led back to 
 the nest for a day or two longer. At length, when 
 they are qualified to shift for themselves, the old one 
 takes them abroad, and leading them to the accustom- 
 ed places, forsakes them for the last time, and all con- 
 nection is at an end. 
 
 Birds in general, though they have so much to fear 
 from man and each other, are seldom scared from their 
 usual haunts. The greatest number remain contented 
 where they have been bred. The rook, if undisturbed^ 
 never desires to leave his native grove ; the black-bird 
 still frequents its accustomed hedge ; and the red* 
 breast, though seemingly mild, claims a certain dis- 
 trict, from whence he seldom moves, but drives out 
 every one of the same species from thence without 
 pity. They are excited to migrations by no other 
 motives but those of fear ; climate 5 or hunger. It is 
 
203 
 
 from one of these motives that birds of passage, every 
 year, forsake us for some time, and make their regular 
 returns. The cause of their retreat is, either scarcity 
 of food, or the want of an asylum from man, during 
 the time of courtship and bringing up their young. 
 Thus the starling, at Sweden, at the approach of 
 winter, finding subsistence no longer, descends into 
 Germany ; and the hen chaffinches of the same country 
 are seen to fly every year through Holland, to pass 
 their winter in a milder climate. Others prepare for 
 longer journeys. Thus the quails, in spring, forsake 
 the heats of Africa for the milder sun of Europe ; and 
 when they have passed the summer with us, steer their 
 flight to enjoy, in Egypt, the temperate air. This 
 with them seems a preconcerted undertaking. They 
 unite together in some open place, for sorue days be- 
 fore their departure, and, by an odd kind of chatter- 
 ing, seem to debate on the method to proceed ; then 
 they all take flight together, and often in such num. 
 bers, that to mariners at sea, they seem like a cloud 
 upon .the horizon. The strongest, and by far the 
 greatest number, make good their intention; but 
 many there are, who gro\v weary in the way, and 
 drop dosvn into the sea, and sometimes upon the decks , 
 of ships. 
 
 Of the vast quantity of water fowl that frequent our 
 shores, few are known to breed here. The cause that 
 urges them to leave us seems to be, not merely the 
 want of food, but the desire of a secure retreat. Our 
 country is too populous for birds so shy, as the great- 
 est number of these are. When great part of our 
 island was an uncultivated tract of woods and marshes, 
 many species of birds, w!>ich now migrate, remained 
 with us the whole year. The great Heron and the 
 Crane, that have now forsaken this country, in former 
 times bred familiarly in our marshes. Their nests^ 
 like those of most cloven-footed water-fowl, were built 
 on the ground, and exposed to every invader; but as 
 (economy increased, theseaniuials were more and 
 
204 
 
 more disturbed. Once they had little to fear, as the 
 surrounding marsh defended them from all the carni- 
 vorous surrounding quadrupeds, and their own strength 
 from birds of prey; but by along series of alarms, 
 they have, at length, been obliged to seek, during the 
 summer, some lonely habitation, at a safe distance from 
 every destroyer. 
 
 Of the numerous tribes of the Duck-kind, we know 
 of no more than five that breed here. The rest con- 
 tribute to form that amazing multitude of water-fowl 
 which annually repair to the dreary lakes and deserts 
 of Lapland, -from the more southern countries of Eu- 
 rope. In those solitary retreats, they perform the 
 duties of incubation and nutrition in full security. 
 There are few of this kind that may not be traced to 
 the northern deserts, to countries of lakes, rivers, 
 swamps, and mountains, covered with thick and gloomy 
 forests. In those regions, from the thickness of the 
 forests, the ground remains moist and penetrable 
 during the summer season ; the woodcock, the snipe, 
 and other slender-billed birds, can there feed at ease, 
 while the wcb-footrd birds find more than sufficient 
 food from the number of insects which swarm to an in- 
 credible degree. The days thsre arc long, and the 
 beautiful nights afford them e\ery opportunity of col- 
 lecting so minute a food. 
 
 2. Birds have feathers which they expand in order 
 to llv, the fine branches of which lie so close together, 
 that little air can insinuate itself between them. Now 
 when the column of air on which a body rests is speci- 
 fically heavier than the body, it remains suspended iu 
 the air; if it be lighter, the body sinks. Hence the 
 larger space a body circumscribes, the more easily docs 
 the air sustain it: consequently the same bird which 
 sinks when the wings are closed, is sustained when 
 they are expanded. To this also the motion of the 
 wings contribute : (as a body while moving swiftly 
 will swim in water^ which immediately sinks if inat 
 
205 
 
 motion ceases.) And so do the feathers with which 
 their bodies are clothed, which increase their bulk, but 
 not their weight in the same proportion. 
 
 The parts of birds chiefly concerned in flying, are 
 the wings and the tail. By the first, the bird sustains 
 and wafts himself along : by the second he is enabled 
 to keep his body steady and upright, particularly in 
 ascending and descending. It is by the largeness and 
 strength of the pectoral muscles that they are qualified 
 for flying. In men these are scarce a seventeenth part 
 of the muscles of the body. In birds they considerably 
 outweigh .-.I! the other muscles together. And this cir- 
 cumstance alone, the want of suitable muscles, makes 
 all human attempts to fly void and vain. 
 
 Nevertheless the art of flying has been seriously at. 
 tempted by many, in various ages, particularly in the 
 time of our famous Friar Bacon, who lived about 500 
 years since, and whom his excellent works shew to 
 have been a rare chymist, an excellent mathematician, 
 a knowing mechanic, and a most accomplished expe- 
 rimental philosopher. Yet even he believed the art 
 of flying possible, and says, he himself knew how to 
 make an engine, in which a man sitting might be able 
 to convey himself through the air like a bird. Nay, he 
 affirms, that there was then another person who had 
 actually tried it with success. 
 
 In flying, f he bird first bends his legs and leaps from 
 the ground ; then opens the joint of his wings so as to 
 make a right line, perpendicular to the sides of his 
 body. Being now raised and strongly vibrating his 
 wings, the air re-acts as much as it is acted upon, and 
 so protrudes his whole body ; but in recovering his 
 wing for fresh strokes, it has a great resistance to 
 overcome. To elude this, the bony .part of the wing, 
 into which the feathers ar^ inserted, moves sideways 
 with its sharp end foremost, and the feathers follow it 
 like a flag. 
 
 All birds have near their tail a little bag, which con. 
 tains oil to moisten their feathers. Geese have two 
 glands for the secretion of this 3 other birds only one* 
 
206 
 
 In this are divers little cells ending in two or three 
 large ones, lying under the nipple of the oil-bag. This 
 nipple is perforated, and being prest by the bird's bill, 
 emits its oil. 
 
 In all birds that fly much, the \vings are placed in 
 the very best manner to balance their bodies in the air, 
 and to give as swift a progression as they are severally 
 capable of. Otherwise they would reel and fly un- 
 steadily, as we see they do if we destroy the equipoise 
 by cutting one of their wings. 
 
 And what nicety may we observe, in a part no more 
 considerable, than the vanes of the flag.feathers of the 
 wing! 1. The edges of the exterior or narrow vanes 
 bend downward, but the interior, wider vanes upward, 
 By this means they catch hold and lie close to each 
 other, when the wing is spread, that not one feather 
 may miss its full force and impulse upon the air. 2. 
 Equal nicety is observed in the very sloping the tips 
 of the flag- feathers ; the interior vanes are neatly 
 sloped away to a point toward the outward part of the 
 wing. The exterior (at least in many birds) are sloped 
 toward the bcdy,. and in the middle of the wing, the 
 vanes being equal, are but little sloped ; so. that the 
 wing, whether open or shut, is as neatly sloped as if 
 constantly trimmed with a pair of scissars. 
 
 The vane consists not of oye continued membrane, 
 because if once broken, it would not easily be repair, 
 ed ; but of many laminae, which are thin, stiff, and 
 something resembling a thin quill. Toward the shaft 
 of the feather (especially in the flag-feathers of the 
 wing) these laminae are broad and of a semicircular 
 form, which serves for strength and for shutting them 
 close together, when impulses are made on the air. 
 Toward the outer part of the vane, they grow slender 
 and taper, on their under side they are thin and 
 smooth, but their upper outer edge is parted into two 
 hairy edges. 
 
 As curiously made are the feathers in the wing, and 
 no less curiously placed, exactly according to their se. 
 veral lengths and strength] aud these agaiu are lined} 
 
207 
 
 faced, and guarded with covers and secondary feathers, 
 to keep the air from passing through and so eluding 
 the impulse. 
 
 How admirably wrought are the bones of the wing ! 
 very strong, but light withal; the joints, which open, 
 shut, and move fcvery way, as occasion is, and the 
 various muscles, all suited to the motions which they 
 minister to. 
 
 Next to the parts for flight, let us view the legs and 
 feet which minister to their other motions, both made 
 light for their easier passage through the air, and the. 
 latter, some with membranes for swimming, some 
 without, for steady going, for perching, for catching, 
 and holding their prey, or for hanging by the heels to 
 gather their food : the legs, all curved, for their easy 
 perching or roosting, as also to help them upon their 
 wings in faking their flight. In some, they are long, 
 for wading and searching the waters, in others, if need 
 be, remarkably short. And how wisely are they 
 placed! In all somewhat out of the centre of the 
 body's gravity ; but in such as swim, more than in 
 others, for the better rowing their bodies, as also to 
 help them in diving. 
 
 Geese and Ducks, their bodies being made for swim- 
 ming, have their wings too placed out of the centre of 
 gravity, nearer the head; but the extending the neck 
 and head in tlight, balances the body upon the wings, 
 which is another excellent use (beside searching tor 
 food) of the long necks of these birds. 
 
 But in the Heron, whose head and long neck (al- 
 though tucked up in flight) overbalances the hinder 
 part of the body ; the long legs are extended both to 
 counterpoise the body and to supply what is wanting 
 in the tail. 
 
 ft has been supposed that the flying of birds is ana. 
 logous to the rowing of vessels ; but it is a motion of 
 quite another kind. Oars are struck toward the stern ; 
 whereas birds do not vibrate their wings toward the 
 tail, but waft them downward. Nor does the tail cut 
 
208 
 
 the air (as the rudder does the water) at right angles, 
 but horizontally. It likewise keeps the same situation 
 which way soever the bird turns. 
 
 It is not therefore by the tail that most birds turn 
 to the right hand or the left, but by the wings. They 
 turn to the right by heating the air with the left wing 
 alone toward the tail : to the left, by beating it with 
 the right w:;u<. Thus Pigeons* changing their course 
 toward the left, labour with the right wing, scarce 
 stirring the other. 
 
 Birds with long necks have another way of altering 
 their course, by only inclining their head and neck 
 this or that way. 
 
 Birds rareiy fly up or down perpendicularly, but 
 rather in a crooked line. In ascending directly, the 
 natural and artificial tendency would counteract each 
 other. In descending directly, both would concur, 
 and endanger too precipitate a motion. 
 
 Only the Hawk stoops directly to seize its prey: 
 whereas other birds in descending retard the motion by 
 keeping their wings expanded, and at the same time 
 stretching out their feet and legs. 
 
 There is no flying animal but has feet as well as 
 wings, because there is no food or at least riot food 
 sufficient for them, to be had always in the air : but 
 if there were, yet such birds could take no rest ; for 
 having no feet, they could not perch upon trees, and 
 if they alighted on the ground they could not raise 
 themselves again : which birds that nave short feet can 
 
 * It is a remarkable use which is made of pigeons in the Eastern 
 countries. They are trained up in Turky and Persia to carry ex- 
 presses ; being first used to short (lights, afterwards to longer, till 
 at lencth they will return from the farthest part of the kingdom. 
 Yea, if they are brought hood-winked twenty or thirty miles, nay, 
 sixty or a hundred, they will find their way in a very little time to 
 the place where they were bred. Every bashaw has a basket of 
 these pigeons bred at the seraglio ; one of which he dispatches, 
 thither on any emergent occasion, with letters braced under her 
 wings. This proves a more speedy method, as* well as safer, than 
 any other. For one of these birds will ca ry a letter from Babylon 
 to AU-ppo, which is thirty days journey, in forty-eight hours. 
 
209 
 
 hardly do. Beside, they would want means of breed- 
 ing, having no way to lay their eggs, to sit, hatch, or 
 brood their young. 
 
 Before we conclude this head, it may be observed, 
 that all the parts of birds are fitted for the use of fly- 
 ing. First, as the muscles of the wings are peculiarly 
 strong, so the under side of them is made concave, and 
 the upper convex, that they may be the more easily 
 lifted up, and the more strongly strike the air. Then 
 the trunk of their body somewhat resembles the hull of 
 a ship; the head the prow, which is generally small, 
 that it may the more readily cut the air, and make way 
 for the body. Add to this, that the bodies of birds 
 are small in comparison of beasts, that they may be 
 more easily supported by the air : and they are not 
 only small, but of a broad figure, that they may bo 
 buoyed up the better. They are also hollow and light, 
 yea, their very fcones are light. For even those of 
 the legs and wings have ample cavities : by this means 
 also they become rigid and stiff, it being demonstrable 
 that a hollow body is more stiff and inflexible than a 
 solid one of equal substance. The shafts also of the 
 feathers are either empty or filled with a light and 
 spungy matter; and their webs consist of two rows of 
 contiguous filaments furnished all along with hooks on 
 each side, whereby catching hold of one another they 
 stick fast together. 
 
 As to their tails, although it is true as was observed, 
 that all birds whose tails are pointed and end in aright 
 line, turn themselves by their wings and not their tails, 
 yet in those that have forked tails it is otherwise. Thus 
 it is manifest to sight, that the forked-tailed Kite, by 
 turning her train sideways, raising one horn, and de- 
 pressing the other, turns her whole body. And 
 doubtless the tail has the same use in swallows, who 
 have all forked tails, and make more sudden turns ia 
 the air than any other bird. 
 
210 
 
 To lighten birds sJill farther, they have large mem- 
 branes extending to the bottom of their bellies, into 
 which the air is received, where, by the h^at of the 
 body it is expanded into twice or thrice the dimensions 
 of the external air; and this they can either compress 
 by the muscles of the abdomen y or expire more or iess r 
 in order to their descending swifter or slower, in what 
 degree they please. 
 
 3. As to the brain of birds, whereas in men tine 
 cortical part of the brain is outermost, in birds it is in. 
 ncrmost, and the membrane that covers the upper ven- 
 tricle is medullary. The ventricles likewise uic bituut- 
 cd above, near the upper part of the skull. 
 
 Perhaps before we proceed, it may be well to pre- 
 mise one general observation, that the structure of 
 birds is in many respects different from those both of 
 men and beasts, having several parts which these want t 
 and wanting others which they have. Besides, there 
 are great variations in the contrivance of parts which 
 are common to both, all wisely adapted to their dif* 
 ferent conditions and manner of life* 
 
 Parts peculiar to birds are, 1. The bill. 2. The 
 membrane to draw over the eyes. 3. Feathers and 
 wings. The parts wanting in birds are, 1, Teeth and 
 lips. 2. The bladder, which they do not need, as 
 they drink no more than just to moisten their food. 
 Variations in the parts of birds from those of men and 
 beasts are, 1. In the ear, which is of a very peculiar 
 make. 2. In the division of the aorta. 3. In the 
 spinal marrow, which is divided into two in the middle 
 of the back. 4. Tn the bones, which are all hollow. 
 5. In the heart, which has a fleshy valve at the month 
 of the vena cava. 6. In the lungs, which are strong' 
 ly joined to the back, for the greater conveniency of 
 ilight. 7. In the stomach ; birds have two or more, 
 to supply the want of ^chewin,g,-~8. lii the legs and 
 
211 
 
 feet, 9. In their tails. 10. In their pectoral muscles, 
 which ara the strongest of all ; whereas in man, the 
 crural muscles are the strongest. 11. In the brain, as 
 Was before observed. 12. In the bronchia, which ex- 
 tends to the very bottom of the abdomen, so as to 
 contain a large quantity of air. 13. In the ovaries, 
 which in birds are single, and fastened on their back* 
 
 4. The ears of birds differ much from those both of 
 men and beasts. There is almost a direct passage from 
 ear to ear, so that if the drum be pricked in either ear, 
 water poured in at one ear will run out at the other ; 
 and what is still more remarkable, they have a small 
 winding passage that opens into a large cavity, running 
 betwixt two skulls, and passes all round the head : the 
 upper of these skulls is supported by many hundreds of 
 small, thread. like pillars, which have another use also, 
 to break their sound, and hinder its making a con* 
 fused echo. 
 
 This passage between the two skulls is much larger 
 in singing-birds than in others. So that a person who 
 has been shewn this may hereby know them from all 
 others. 
 
 The other organs of sense are nearly the same in 
 birds as in other animals. Only there is a difference in 
 the organ of smell : the nostrils lie on each side of the 
 beak, in the inner part whereof, beside the tube which 
 reaches to the lungs there arc little tubes continued 
 from the membranes and substance of the brain, and 
 these seem to be the organ of smell. Only two nerves 
 pass through the os cribrosum to the beak, lest if there 
 were more perforations, as in other animals, too much 
 air might flow into the brain. 
 
 The bill of-birds is peculiarly remarkable. In 
 the first place, it is neatly shaped for piercing the air. 
 In the next it is hard and horny, to supply the want 
 of teeth, and also in some measure, of a hand. Its 
 hooked form is of great use to rapacious birds, in 
 
212 
 
 catching and holding their prey ; and to others, ia 
 climbing, and in taking and comminuting their food.* 
 Its extraordinary length and slenderness is of use to 
 some, to search for their food in moorish places :t 
 as its length and breadth is to others, to hunt and 
 search in muddy places. J The contrary form, a 
 thick, short, and sharp-edged bill is as useful to all 
 other birds, who must husk the grain they swallow. 
 But it would be endless to reckon up all the shapes 
 and commodious mechanism of all : the sharpness and 
 strength of those that have occasion to perforate woods 
 and shells , the slenderness and neatness of such 
 as pick up small insects : the cross form of such as 
 break up fruits ; || the compressl'd** form of others, 
 
 * Parrots have their bills nicely adapted to thesfc services, being 
 hooked, for climbing and reaching what they want, and the lower 
 jaw so exactly fitted to the hook of the upper that it will break the 
 food, as other creatures do with their teeth. 
 
 t As lo Woodcocks and Snipes, who hunt for worms in moorish 
 ground, and likewise suck the unctuous humour out of the earth. 
 So also the bills of Curlews, and other Sea-fowl, are very long, to 
 enable them to hunt for worms, &c, in the sands. 
 
 $ Ducks, Geese, and divers other species of birds, have brlls both 
 long and broad, whereby they are enabled to quaffer in the water 
 or mud, till they find their food. 
 
 The green woodspite, and all woodpeckers have strong and 
 sharp bills, curiously made for digging wood. An even ridge runs 
 along to the top of the green woodpecker's bill, as if an artist had 
 designed it at once for strength and neatness. 
 
 Woodpeckers have also a tongue, ending in a sharp, bony rib, 
 dented on each side, which they can at pleasure shoot out to a 
 great length, and thrust into the holes, clefts and crannies of 
 trees. They strike them likewise into ant-hills, and fetch out the 
 ants and their eggs. Moreover they have short, but strong legs, 
 and their toes stand, two forward, two backward; a disposition 
 which is particularly convenient for the climbing of trees. In this 
 they are likewise assisted by the uncommon stiffness of the feathers 
 of their tails, and by their bending'downward, whereby they are 
 fitted to serve them as props to lean on, 
 
 || The cross-bill, whose bill is thick and strong, with the tips 
 crossing each other, readily breaks open fir-cones a; id other fruits, 
 to come at and feed on the kernels. And undoubtedly the crossing 
 of the bill was designed for this very service. 
 
 ** The sea-pye has a long, sharp, narrow bill, compressed side- 
 ways, and every way adapted to the raising limpets from the rocks, 
 which are its chief, if not only, food. 
 
213 
 
 with many other curious forms, all suited to the occa- 
 sions of the several species. 
 
 In the flat- billed birds, as ducks, there are three 
 pair of nerves, which come down between the eyes in 
 the upper bill, whereby they are enabled to smell 
 and find out their food in the mire or water. The 
 like have been observed in several round. billed birds, 
 but so small as to be scarce discernible. Only in 
 the rook they are discernible enough : and it is re- 
 markable that these, more than any other round, 
 billed birds, grope for their meat in cow-dung, and 
 the like. 
 
 5. Of their lungs it is observable, that they are 
 not only larger in proportion than those of beasts, 
 but they admit the air, both above and beneath, by 
 which means they become far lighter. 
 
 A duck is furnished with a peculiar structure of 
 vessels, which enables it to live some time under water. 
 Yet she cannot live without air. One that was put 
 into the air-pump, and the air exhausted, seemed to 
 bear it better for a few moments than any other fowl. 
 But in less than two minutes her head fell down, arid 
 she appeared dying, till revived by* letting in the 
 air. 
 
 A young callow duck being tried in the same man- 
 ner, was near death in less than two minutes. It is 
 observable both of them swelled extremely, on pump, 
 ing out the air. It not being intended that water-fowl 
 should live in an exceeding rarified air, but only con. 
 tinue under water, they are qualified for this, but not 
 at all for the other. 
 
 Yet that ducks can live almost any where, we may 
 Irani from the blind ducks of the Zerchintzer lake in 
 Carniola, a territory of Austria. This communicates 
 with another lake under ground in the mountainSavor- 
 nick, and fills or empties itself according to the fuU 
 
Jicss or emptiness of that. The waters of the upper 
 fake, when it empties, run off by large holes in the 
 fcottom. The ducks which are very plentiful in the 
 water, are often carried down with it into the subter- 
 raneous lake. In this many of them undoubtedly pe- 
 rish ; yet some remain alive. But they lose their 
 sight and their feathers : and at the next filling of the 
 upper lake, both they and vast numbers of fish are 
 thrown up with the water. They make a strange ap- 
 pearance in their naked state ; and for want of sight 
 are easily caught. J n about a fortnight they recover 
 their sight and their feathers, and are then as big as 
 common wild-ducks. At their first coining up, 
 their stomachs are full of small fishes, and something 
 resembling weeds. It seems therefore, they were not 
 quite blind, when in their dark habitation, but could 
 see by that small quantity of light, to search for and 
 find their food. 
 
 Nor is it in this lake only that these ducks are 
 found. They are frequently thrown up, after great 
 rains, at a hole in a mountain, near the town of Laon, 
 in the Isle of France. The water then gushing out 
 with great violence, brings these blind and bald crca. 
 tures with it. And their frequency and cheapness, 
 from the vast quantities which are thrown out, make 
 them esteemed no variety. 
 
 The bodies of duckers or loons are admirably fitted 
 for diving: being cove red with a thick plumage, and 
 the surface of it so smooth, that the water cannot pe- 
 netrate it. Hereby their bodies are defended from 
 the cold, the water being kept at a distance ; and are 
 .so poised, that by a light impulse, they easily ascend 
 in it. Again, their feet are situate in the hindmost 
 part of their body, so that shooting them backward 
 and striking the water upwards, they plunge them- 
 selves down with great ease, and move forward there, 
 in. Their legs also are made flat and broad, and their 
 feet cloven into toes, with appenclaat njembraoes on 
 
215 
 
 each side. By this configuration they easily cat 
 the water, and are drawn forward, to take their 
 stroke backward : and by this, their feet being moved 
 to the right or left, serve them as a rudder to turn 
 under water. How they rise above water is not de- 
 termined : whether by their natural lightness, or by 
 striking against the bottom, in the manner of a leap, 
 or by some peculiar motion of the legs. That they 
 dive to the bottom is undeniable. For in the sto- 
 machs, both of the greater and lesser kind, we find 
 much grass and other weeds ; and in the lesser kind, 
 little else. Yet both prey upon fish ; and their bills 
 are straight and sharp, for the easier striking their 
 prey. 
 
 It is likewise remarkable, that whereas in other 
 animals the lungs are loose and have much play, 
 in all birds they adhere to the thorax, and have 
 little play* This is a good provision for their steady 
 flight. Also they want the diaphragm, and instead 
 thereof have divers large bladders, made of thin trans. 
 parent membranes, with pretty large holes, out of 
 one into the other, These membranes serve for bra- 
 ces to the viscera, as well as to contain air. Toward 
 the upper part, each lobe of the lungs is perforated in 
 two places, with large perforations; whereof one is 
 toward the outer, the other toward the inner part of 
 the lobe. Through these perforations the air has a 
 passage into the fore-mentioned bladders so that by 
 blowing into the windpipe, the lungs are raised, and 
 the whole belly blown up. This doubtless is a means 
 to make them more or less buoyant, as they take in 
 more or less air : and so answers the design of the 
 air-bladder in fishes. 
 
 In general we may observe, whatever is peculiar in 
 the wings, bills, and every other part of birds, on a 
 close inspection will be found exactly suited to their 
 wants. They are a set of implements nicely propor- 
 tioned to their manner of life. To instance in a few, 
 
216 
 
 sparrows and most small birds, arc supported by the 
 little grainy they find up and down. They have rio 
 effort to make, to obtain their food, or break it in 
 pieces, and therefore have a small bill, as well as short 
 necks and legs, which are sufficient for their purpo- 
 ses. But the woodcock, snipe, curlew, and many 
 other birds, seek their food deep in the earth or slime. 
 Therefore they are provided with a long neck and 
 bill, and with these they dig and search and want for 
 nothing. The woodpecker, who lives in a quite dif- 
 ferent manner, is as differently formed. His bill is 
 very long, solid, and strong : his tongue is sharp and 
 extremely long ; beside which, it is armed with little 
 points, and covered with glue toward the extremity. 
 He has short legs, two talons before, two behind, and 
 all very crooked. All this equipage suits his manner 
 ofliving. His food is worms or insects, that live ia 
 the heart of branches of trees, or under the bark of 
 old wood ; frequently they are sunk very deep, 
 under the bark of large billets. The woodpecker has 
 hooked claws, to grasp these branches ; and a strong 
 and pointed bill, to find out by darting it up and down, 
 what parts of them are rotten. When he has found 
 out these, he with his bill, shatters the bark and wood. 
 He then sends forth a loud whistling cry, into the 
 cavity, to alarm the insects and put them in motion. 
 Next he darts in his tongue, and by the small points 
 which arise out of it, and the glue that covers it,draws 
 out whatever lodged there. 
 
 The Heron, on the contrary, mounts aloft. His 
 legs and thighs are very long, and bare of feathers. 
 He has a great length of neck, and an enormous bill, 
 very sharp and jagged at the end. What reason can 
 be assigned for a figure, which at first sight seems so 
 extravagant ? He feeds on frogs and small shell. fish, as 
 well as other fish, which he finds in fens> or bogs, or 
 near the shores of rivers. He wants no feathers on 
 his thighs, to walk tl rough water and slime ; but he 
 needs very long legs, to run ia the water, along the 
 
217 
 
 shores, whither the fishes resort for their food. A 
 long neck and bill qualify him for pursuing and seiz- 
 ing his prey at some distance : and the jaggs of his 
 bill enable him to hold the fish, which would other- 
 wise slide away. In fine, his large wings, which 
 seem incommodious to a bird of so small a body, are 
 absolutely needful for his making so great movements 
 in the air and conveying such burdens to his nest, 
 which is frequently two or three leagues distant from 
 
 the place where he fishes. 
 
 
 
 The imperfections therefore which we imagine we 
 discover in this (as in many other animals) in reality 
 belong only to our own understanding^ and all our 
 censures of the works of nature, are in truth, only so 
 many indications of our own ignorance. 
 
 6. The Stomach (especially of granivorous birds), 
 is of a peculiar structure. First, there is a glandulous 
 receptacle, wherein the grains are kept for some time. 
 They are then received into another stomach, con- 
 sisting of two muscles, and a callous membrane. One 
 of these moves obliquely downward, and the other up. 
 ward. Hereby the shell of the grain is broke, and the 
 meal expressed and mixed with proper juices. The 
 aliments thus prepared, fall into the bottom of the 
 stomach, where they are purged again from the re- 
 fuse : to which end that part is a little raised, that 
 the corn may not pass out too soon. There is also a 
 partition, which divides what is already digested from 
 the rest. 
 
 As birds have no bladder, in the room of urine, 
 a whitish excrement is discharged from the kidneys 
 into the rectum. 
 
 7. The generation of birds is not well known in 
 the ovary, placed Between the liver and the back- 
 bone, a great number of yolks are contained ; one 
 of which when impregnated, passes through the ovi- 
 duct into the womb, where it receives the white and 
 
 VOL. i. L 
 
218 
 
 the shell, and remains till it comes to its full size. The 
 parent then broods over it, till the young being gra- 
 dually formed, perfected, and quickened, bursts the 
 shell. 
 
 Under the shell of an egg lies the common mem- 
 brane, adhering closely to it, except at the bigger 
 end, where a little space Is left between them. This 
 membrane contains two whites, each enclosed in its 
 own membrane. In the middle of the inner white 
 is the yolk, enclosed likewise in a separate cover. 
 The outer white is oval, the inner round, (as is the 
 yolk) and of a more viscid substance. 
 
 At each end is a chalasa, a white, dense body con* 
 sisting of three little globules, like grains of hail, (so 
 the word signifies) all joined together. These serve, 
 both to knit the several membranes together, ancl 
 to keep the liquors in their proper places and po- 
 sition. 
 
 About the middle of the small end of the yolk, is 
 a little yellowish bladder, like a vetch, called the 
 cicatricula, or eye of the egg. This contains a hu. 
 monr, in and out of which the young bird is generated, 
 The white serves it for food, till it becomes big : then 
 the yolk, and likewise after it is hatched. For even 
 then a good part of the yolk is lodged in its belly, 
 as in a store-house, and being conveyed thence by 
 the intestinal duct into the bowels, serves it instead 
 of milk. 
 
 An egg, impreperly so called, is that, of the whole 
 whereof the animal is formed. Such are the eggs of 
 flies. Proper eggs, when excluded need no external 
 nutriment Of proper eggs, some are perfect, that 
 is, have all the parts above described, while in the 
 ovary or womb: some imperfect, which have them 
 not, till after they are excluded, as those of fishes, 
 which assume a white in the water. 
 
219 
 
 An egg not impregnated by the male, will never 
 breed young, but always putrify. One impregnated 
 contains the rudiments of the bird, even before incu- 
 bation. By the microscope we see the plain carina 
 or spine of it swimming in the middle of the cicatri- 
 cula, consisting of fine white threads, which incuba- 
 tion gradually perfects. 
 
 The air-bag is very small in a new laid egg, but 
 becomes larger, when the egg is kept. The yolk is 
 specifically heavier than the white. Hence its smal 
 ler end is always uppermost in all positions of the 
 egg- 
 
 After incubation, the air-bag gradually extends, till 
 near the hatching, it takes up a third of the egg. By 
 incubation the white becomes thinner and more tur 
 bid, especially near the air-bag where it is first con 
 sumed. Then it lessens towards the sharp end of the 
 ejjg, till nothing is left, but a white,chalky substance. 
 The white of an impregnated egg is as sweet all the 
 time of incubation as that of a new laid-egg. They 
 are only unimpregnated eggs 5 vulgarly called wind. 
 eggs, which putrify and stink. 
 
 The yolk also remains fresh and uncorruptcd all 
 the time of the incubation. It is depressed in the 
 middle, as the chick grows, and is soon brought into 
 a form, not much unlike that of a horse shoe, in the 
 middle of which the chick lies. 
 
 Not long before ihe chick is hatched, the wholeyolk 
 is taken into the abdomen. 
 
 The eye or tread, in which the chick lies, ia 
 soon enlarged by incubation, and rises to the upper 
 part of the egg. The heart and umbilical vessels, 
 are some of the first parts, which we are able to dis* 
 tinguish. 
 
220 
 
 The embryo is seen at first like a small worm, 
 Then its carina or spine appears, with the large pro. 
 minences that afterwards shew themselves to be the 
 brain and eyes. The other bowels seem hanging 
 from the spine. Then the chasm of the mouth is dis- 
 covered. The extremities sprout out. The bowels 
 are gradually covered with the teguments. At last 
 the beak, nails, and feathers are seen. When all 
 its parts are formed, the chick is always found lying 
 on its side, with its neck bent forward, the head co- 
 vered with the upper wing, and the beak placed be- 
 tween the thighs. 
 
 The birds which nourish their young, have com. 
 monly very few. On the contrary, those whose young 
 feed themselves, when they first see the day, have 
 sometimes eighteen or twenty at a brood. This pru- 
 dence could only spring from Him, who regulates all 
 things to the best advantage. Were those who pro- 
 vide for their young to have so numerous a brood, 
 both the parents would be slaves, and yet the young 
 but ill accommodated. Whereat the mother, who 
 only marches at their head, without nourishing them, 
 can conduct twenty as well as four. 
 
 But when they first make their appearance, what 
 care do the parents take, till their young can sub- 
 sist without them ? Of those that feed their young, 
 the linnet and the nightingale then labour like the 
 rest* Sometimes one parent goes in quest of pro- 
 visions, sometimes the other, and sometimes both. 
 They are up before the sun. And the food they have 
 procured, they distribute with great equality, giving 
 each a portion in its turn; before ever they feed one 
 bird twice. 
 
 And this tenderness for their offspring, is so strong, 
 as even to change their natural disposition. Follow 
 the hen when she is the parent of a family, and she 
 is no longer the same creature. She is no longer ra. 
 
221 
 
 renous and insatiable. If she finds but a grain of 
 corn or a crum of bread, she -never touches it her- 
 self but calls her troop by a note they well under- 
 stand, and divides it among them. She is no longer 
 timorous, but at the head of her young, will spring 
 even at the stoutest dog. 
 
 When the turkey .hen appears at the head of her 
 young, she sometimes utters a mournful cry, and 
 they immediately run under bushes, furz or what- 
 ever presents itself. She looks upward and repeats 
 her cry : which is occasioned by her seeing a bird of 
 prey, though so distant, that he appears unto us, only 
 as a dark point under the clouds. But he no sooner 
 disappears, than she utters another cry, which revives 
 all her brood. They run to her, flutter their wings, and 
 shew all the tokens of joy. Now, who apprizes her of 
 an enemy, that never yet committed any act of hosti- 
 lity in the country ? And how is she able to discover 
 him, when at so great a distance ? How are her fa- 
 mily instructed to understand her different cries, and 
 regulate their behaviour accordingly ? VVfiat wonders 
 are these which are daily obvious to our view, though 
 we treat them with inattention? 
 
 An amazing degree of natural instinct, or under- 
 standing, God has imparted to birds of passage. They 
 fly in troops, often in the form of a wedge, with the 
 point foremost. They steer their course through un- 
 known regions, without either guide or compass. 
 And they are peculiarly accommodated for their flight 
 by the structure of their parts. 
 
 In the act of migration, it is highly remarkable* 
 1. That they know, (as the scripture speaks) their 
 appointed times, when to come and when to g >. Ap- 
 pointed by whom ? Surely by the great Creator, who 
 has imprinted on their nature au inclination, atsuch.' 
 a time to fly from a place that woul 1 obstruct their 
 generation, or not afford food for them and theU 
 
 L3 
 
voting, and betake themselves to another plaefy which 
 1*511 afford all that is wanting. 
 
 It is highly remarkable, 2. That they knew whi- 
 ther to go, and which way to steer their course I That 
 they should be directed yearly to the same place, 
 perhaps to a little island, as the Basse in Edinburgh 
 Frith. How come land. birds to venture over a vast 
 ocean ? of which they can see no end ? And how do 
 they steer their course aright to their several quarters, 
 vhich before the compass "was invented, man himself 
 was not able to do ? They could not possibly see 
 them at that distance. Or if they could, what should 
 teach or persuade them that that land is more proper 
 for their purpose than this ? That Britain, for in- 
 stance, should afford them better accommodations than 
 Egypt, than the Canaries^ than Spain, or any other 
 of the intermediate places ? 
 
 But it has been commonly supposed that several 
 birds are of this number, because they disappear in 
 winter, which really are not ; cuckoos for instance, 
 and swallows : for neither of these ever cross the 
 seas. Cuckoos lodge all the winter in hollow trees, 
 or other warm and convenient cavities. And swal- 
 lows have been found in vast quantities, clung toge* 
 ther in a lump, like swarms of bees, but utterly 
 cold and senseless, even in ponds that have been 
 cleaned out, hanging under the w ; ater. 
 
 1 know not how we can doubt of this fact, that 
 swallows have been found in winter, under water, 
 clung together, attested by men of unquestionable ve- 
 racity. And yet others affirm, that they have seen 
 ^flights of swallows crossing the sea in autumn. The 
 truth seems to be this. There arc some species of 
 swallows, which seek a warmer climate at the approach 
 of winter, while others remain here in a temporary 
 death, like the flies on which they feed. 
 
 They have in Virginia, a martin like ours, only 
 larger, which builds in the same manner. Col, Bacon 
 observed for several years ; that they constantly came 
 
thither upon the 10th of March. Two of them alwayf 
 appeared a day or two before, hovering in the air, thert 
 they went away 5 and speedily returned, with the whole 
 flock. 
 
 The following seems to he a very rational account 
 of most of those that are really birds of passage. 
 
 When by. the approach of our winter their food 
 fails, birds of passage arc taught by instinct to seek 
 it elsewhere. Want of food seems to be the chief rea- 
 son of their migration. The length of their wings 
 enables them to catch the flying insects, with which 
 the air is stored during the warm months. And most 
 summer birds of passage, feed on the wing upon 
 such insects, as are seen no more when winter 
 comes, If it be considered, how much of tho globe 
 still remains unknown, it is no wonder wo are not 
 yet acquainted with the places to which they retire, 
 rrobably they lie nearly in the same latitude in the 
 southern hemisphere, as those from whence they de- 
 part. 
 
 As swallows cannot bear so much cold. as some other 
 birds of passage, they arc constrained to visit us 
 somewhat later, and to depart somewhat sooner. Some 
 stay a month after them. Probably many of them 
 perform their long journies chiefly in the night. Lying 
 on the deck of a sloop vn the north-side of Cuba, I 
 and the company with me heard three nights succes* 
 &ively, flights of rice-birds (their notes being plainly 
 distinguishable) passing over our heads northerly, 
 which is their direct vvay from the southern con* 
 tiuent of America, from whence they go yearly when. 
 the rice begins to ripen, and after growing fat,' return 
 back. 
 
 There are also winter birds of passage, which ar* 
 rive here in autumn and go away in spring, name- 
 ly the fieldfare, redwing, woodcock, and snipe. 
 JJut the two letter sometimes spend the whole year 
 here.. Whereas the two former, constantly at thQ 
 " 
 
224 
 
 approach of summer, retire to more northern climates 
 where they breed, and remain till at the return of 
 winter, they return to us again. 
 
 The winter food of these birds being berries and 
 haws, which are far more plentiful here than in more 
 northern regions, this is one reason of their coming 
 over : but the principal is, the severity of the wea- 
 ther in those climates, which nature teaches them to 
 exchange, for such as are more temperate. But why 
 do they depart from us in spring: This still remains 
 among the secrets of nature. 
 
 Besic'e these summer and winter birds 5 there are 
 others which come periodically to certain places, for 
 the sake of some sort of food, which their own conn* 
 try is destitute of. These quickly depart, and arc 
 seen no more till that time twelvemonth, Such arc 
 the rice-bird and blue-wing of Carolina. 
 
 But above half a century passed from the time of 
 cultivating rice and wheat in Carolina, and Virginia, 
 before these foreign birds made their appearance there. 
 The wheat birds now come annually to Virginia, when 
 the wheat ripens, and have come every year, since 
 their first appearance, in numerous flights. 
 
 The species of birds already known, amount to 
 about eight hundred. Linnaeus divides them into six 
 classes ; namely,into birds of the rapacious kinds, birds 
 of (he pie-kind, birds of the poultry kind, birds of 
 the sparrow. kind, birds of the duck-kind, and birds 
 of the crane-kind. The four first comprehend the 
 kinds of land birds, the two last, those that belong 
 to the water. 
 
 In beginning with the feathered tribe, the Ostrich 
 seems to unite the class of beasts and of birds in 
 itself. While it has the general outlines and pro. 
 perties of a bird, it retains many of the marks of a 
 beast. In appearance it resembles the camel, and is 
 almost as tall ; it is covered with a plumage that re- 
 sembles hair much more than feathers, and its internal 
 parts bear as near a similitude to those of the beast, 
 
225 
 
 as of the bird creation. It may be considered, there, 
 lore, as an animal made to fill up that.chasm in na- 
 ture which separates one class of beings from ano- 
 ther. It is usually seven feet hi#h from the top of 
 the head to the ground. The external eye is like 
 that of a man, the upper eye lid being adorned with 
 eye-lashes which are longer than those on the lid 
 below. 
 
 They inhabit the most solitary desarts, where there 
 ae few vegetables, and where the rain never comes. 
 The Arabians assert, that the ostrich never drinks ; 
 and the place of its habitation confirms the assertion. 
 In these regions, ostriches are seen in large flocks, 
 which to the distant spectator appear like a regiment 
 of cavalry. The ostrich is of all other animals the 
 most voracious. It will devour leather, hair, grass, 
 iron, stones, or any thing that is given. But tho^e 
 substances, which the coats of the stomach cannot 
 soften, pass whole ; so that hair, stones, and iron, 
 are excluded in the form in which they were de- 
 voured. 
 
 In their native desarts, however, they live chiefly 
 upon vegetables, where they lead an inoffensive and 
 social life ; the male, as Thevenot assures us, assort- 
 ing with the female with connubial fidelity. They 
 Jay generally from forty to fifty eggs. It has beeu 
 commonly reported, that the female deposits them in 
 the sand, leaves them to be hatched by the heat of 
 the climate, and then permits the young to shift for 
 themselves. Very little, however, of this is true : 
 no bird has a stronger affection for her young: 
 none watches her eggs with greater assiduity. Indeed 
 in those hot climates, there is no necessity for the con- 
 tinual incubation of the female ; but though the fe- 
 male forsakes her eggs by day, she carefully broods 
 over them by night. Then they sit on their eggs 
 like other birds, and the male and female take this 
 office by turns. Nor do they forsake their young 
 alter they are excluded the shell. On the contrary, 
 the young ones are not even able to walk for several 
 
 L5 
 
226 
 
 days after they are hatched. During this time, the 
 old ones are very assiduous in supplying them with 
 grass, and very careful to defend them from dan* 
 ger : nay, they encounter every danger in their de 
 fence. 
 
 AJ1 land-birds of the rapacious kind, are furnished 
 with a large head, and strong crooked beak, notched 
 .at the end, for the purpose of tearing their prey. 
 They have strong short legs, and sharp crooked ta- 
 lons for the purpose of seizing it. Their bodies are 
 formed for war, being fibrous and muscular ; and 
 their wings for swiftness of flight, being well fea- 
 thered and expansive. The sight of such as prey by 
 day is astonishingly quick : and such as ravage by 
 .night, have their sight so fitted as to see objects in 
 darkness* Thus formed for war, they lead a life of 
 solitude, they inhabit by choice, the most lonely pla. 
 ces. They make their nests in the clefts of rocks, and 
 in the highest and most inaccessible trees of the 
 forest. Whenever they appear in the cultivated plain 
 it is only for the purposes of depredation, and they 
 spread terror wherever they approach : all the variety 
 of music, which but a moment before enlivened the 
 grove, at their approach is at an end : lesser birds 
 seek for safety, either by concealment or iiighf, and 
 some are even driven to take protection with man, 
 to avoid their less merciful pursuers. 
 
 It would indeed be fatal to all the smaller race of 
 birds, if as they are weaker than ail ? they were also 
 pursued by all : but it is contrived wisely, that every 
 order of carnivorous birds seek only for such as 
 are of a size approaching their own. The eagle flies 
 at the bustard or the pheasant, the sparrow-hawk at 
 the thrush and the linnet. And nature has provided 
 that each species should make war only on such as 
 are furnished wiih adequate means of escape. The 
 smallest birds avoid their pursuers by the extreme 
 agility, rather than the swiftness of their flight ; for 
 every order would soon be at an end, if the ^agle, to its 
 svufiucss of wing, added the versatility of the sparrow. 
 
22T 
 
 Another circumstance which tends to render the 
 tyranny of these animals more supportable, is ? that 
 they are less fruitful than other birds. Those of the 
 larger kind seldom produce above four eggs, often 
 but two ; those of the smaller kinds, never above 
 six or seven. Likewise the carnivorous kinds only 
 breed annually, and of consequence their fecundity 
 is smalh 
 
 8. The largest of birds is the Cuntur of Peru. 
 The body is as big as that of a sheep. Its wings 
 ex tended are fifteen or sixteen feet from point to point*. 
 It is never seen in forests, because it would not have 
 room to fly, but frequents the sea.shore and the 
 banks of rivers. Nature, to allay their fierceness, 
 has denied them the talons given to eagles, though 
 they are of the eagle-kind. However, their beak i$ 
 strong enough to tear off the hide, and rip up ths 
 bowels of an ox. 
 
 What a blessing is it to mankind, that there arc 
 but few fjust enough to keep up the species) of 
 this monster in the feathered creation !. And into 
 what can we resolve this, but the wise atid overruling 
 care of an adorable Providence I 
 
 In beasts the smallest animals are noxious^ and 
 loathsome ; the smallest of birds are the most beau- 
 tiful, innocent^ and sportive. Of ali ihos-e that flut- 
 ter in the garden, or paint the landscape, the hum* 
 ming-bird is the most delightful to look upon, and; 
 the most inoffensive. 
 
 Of this there are six or seven* varieties, from the 
 size of a small wren, down to that of an humble bee. 
 An European could never have supposed a bird es. 
 isting so very small, and yet completely fur- 
 nished with a bill, feathers, wings, and intestines, ex* 
 actly resembling those of the largest kind. A bird 
 not so big as the end of onc*i> little finger, would pro- 
 bably be supposed but a creature of imagination, were 
 it not secu iu infinite numbers, and as frequent as 
 ' 
 
228 
 
 butterflies in a summer's day, sporting in the fields 
 of America, from flower to flower. 
 
 The smallest is about the size of a hazle-nut. The 
 feathers on its wings and tail are black ; but those 
 on its body, and under its wings, are of a greenish 
 brown, with a fine red cast or gloss, which no silk or 
 velvet can imitate. It has a small crest on its head, 
 green at the bottom, and as it were gilded at the top, 
 and which sparkles in the sun like a little star in the 
 middle of its forehead. The bill is black, straight, 
 slender, and of the length of a small pin. 
 
 As soon as the sun is risen, the humming-birds, 
 of different kinds, are seen fluttering about the flow- 
 ers, without ever lighting upon them. Their wings 
 are in such rapid motion that it is impossible to dis- 
 cern their colours, except by their guttering. They 
 are never still, but continually in motion, visiting 
 flower after flower : they are furnished with a forky 
 tongue, that enters the cup of the flower, and extracts 
 its nectared tribute. Upon this alone they subsist. The 
 rapid motion of their wings bring out an humming 
 sound from whence they have their names. 
 
 The nests of these birds are not less curious than 
 the rest : they are suspended in the air, at the points 
 of twigs of an orange, a promegranate, or a citron- 
 tree. The female is the architect, while the male 
 goes in quest of materials, such as cotton, fine moss, 
 and the fibres of vegetables. Of these materials a 
 nest is composed, of about the size of a hen's egsj 
 cut in two, admirably contrived, and \varmly lined 
 with cotton. They lay two eggs at a time, ahout the 
 size of small peas, and as white as snow, with here 
 and there a yellow speck. The male and female sit 
 tipon the nest by turns ; but the female takes to her- 
 5elf the greatest share. She seldom quits the nest, ex- 
 cept a few minutes in the morning and evening when 
 the dew is upon the flowers. The time of incubation 
 continues twelve days ; at the end of which the 
 young ones aupear ; much about the size of a blue- 
 bottle fly. 
 
229 
 
 Father Labat's companion, in the mission to Ame- 
 rica, found the nest of a humming-bird, and took it 
 in, at a time when the young ones were about fifteen 
 or twenty days old ; he placed them in a cage at his 
 chamber window ; but he was soon surprised to see 
 the old ones, that came and fed their brood regularly 
 every hour in the day. By these means they themselves 
 soon grew so tame, that they seldom quitted the 
 chamber; but without any constraint, came to live 
 with their young ones. 
 
 All four hare frequently come to perch upon their 
 master's hand, chirruping as if they had been at li- 
 berty, lie fed them with a fine clear paste, made of 
 wine, biscuit, and sugar. They thrust their tongues 
 into this paste, till they were satisfied, and then 
 fluttered and chirruped about the room. 1 never be- 
 held any thing more agreeable, continues he, than 
 this lovely little family, that had taken possession of 
 my companion's chamber, and that flew out and in just 
 as they thought proper ; but were ever attentive to 
 the voice of their master when he called them. In 
 this manner they lived with him for above six months, 
 but, at a time when he expected to see a new colony, 
 he unfortunately forgot to tie up their cage to the 
 ceiling at night> to preserve them from the rats, and 
 he found they were devoured in the morning. 
 
 Even Vultures are in Egypt of singular service. 
 There are great flocks of them in the neighbourhood 
 of Grand Cairo, which no person is permitted to de- 
 stroy. The service they render the inhabitant?, is 
 the devouring the carrion and filth of that great 
 city, which might otherwise corrupt and putrify the 
 air. They are commonly seen in company -with the 
 Mild dogs of the country, tearing a carcase very d.cr 
 liberately together. This odd association produces no 
 quarrels; the beasts and birds live amicably, and 
 nothing but harmony subsists between them, 
 
 The wonder is still the greater, as both are ex- 
 tremely rapacious, and both lean and bony to a yery 
 
great degree, having no great plenty even of the 
 wretshed food on which they subsist. 
 
 In America wherever the hunters go, who pursue 
 beasts for their skins, these birds pursue them. They 
 still keep hovering at a little distance ; and when they 
 ee the beast (lead and abandoned, they call out to 
 each other, pour down upon the carcase, and in an 
 instant, pick its bones as clean as if they had been 
 scraped, by knife. 
 
 Rooks keep together in pairs ; and when the 
 offices of courtship arc over, prepare for making 
 their nests and laying. The old inhabitants of the 
 place are already provided ; the nest which served 
 them for years before, with a little dressing will serve 
 again ; the difficulty of nestling lies only upon the 
 young ones who have no rest. And not only the 
 materials arc wanting, but also the place in which 
 to fix it. Every part of a tree will not do for this 
 purpose, as some branches may not be sufficiently 
 forked ; others may not be sufficiently strong ; and 
 others may be too much exposed to the rockings of 
 the wind. 
 
 The male and female upon this occasion are, for/ 
 some days, seen examining all the trees of the grove 
 very attentively, and when they have fixed upon a 
 branch fit for that purpose, they continue to sit upon 
 and observe it very sedulously lor two or three days 
 longer. 
 
 The place being determined, they begin to gather 
 the materials ; such as sticks and fibrous roots, which 
 they regularly dispose in the most substantial man- 
 ner. But here a new and unexpected obstacle arises,, 
 it often happens that the young couple have made 
 choice of a place too near the mansion of an older, 
 pair, who do not chuse to be incommoded by neigh, 
 bours. A quarrel therefore instantly ensues, in which 
 the old ones are always victorious. 
 
 The young couple thus expelled, are obliged again, 
 to go through the fatigues of examining, and chus. 
 
31 
 
 ing ; and having taken care to keep their due dis~ 
 tance, the nest begins again. But they grow weary 
 of bringing materials from distant places ; and per* 
 ceive that sticks may be provided nearer home. Away 
 they go, therefore, to pilfer as fast as they can ; 
 and wherever they see a nest unguarded, they rob it 
 of the choicest sticks of which it is composed. But 
 these thefts never go unpunished. Eight or tea 
 rooks come, and setting upon the new nest of the 
 young couple at once, tear it in pieces in a moment. 
 At length, therefore, the youag pair find the ne- 
 cessity of going more honestly to work. While one 
 flies to fetch the materials, the other sits upon the 
 tree to guard it; and thus in the space of three or 
 four days, with a skirmish now and then between, the 
 pair have fitted up a commodious nest, composed of 
 sticks without, and fibrous roots and long grass with. 
 in. From the instant the female begins to lay, all 
 hostilities are at an end ; not one of the whole grove 
 that a little before treated her so rudely, will now 
 molest her; so that she brings forth her brood with 
 patient tranquillity. Such is the severity with which 
 even native rooks are treated by each other ; but if 
 a foreign rook should attempt to make himself a 
 denizen of their society, the whole grove would at 
 once be up in arms against him ; and expel hhn with- 
 out mercy. 
 
 In all its habits the Magpie discovers a degree of 
 instinct unusual to other birds. Its nest is not less 
 remarkable for the manner in which it is composed, 
 than for the place it is built in : either in the mid- 
 dle of some hawthorn bush, or on the top of some 
 high tree. 
 
 It is always difficult of access ; for fh6 tree or bush 
 pitched upon, usually grows in some thick hedge-row 
 fenced by brambles at the root. 
 
 When the place is chosen as inaccessible as possible 
 to men, the next care is to fence the nest abo?e 
 irom various enemies* 
 
232 
 
 The kite, the c^ow, and the sparrow-hawk, are 
 to be guarded against : as their nests have been some. 
 times plundered by the magpie, so it may be, they will 
 take an opportunity to retaliate. To prevent this, 
 the magpie's nest is built with surprising labour and 
 ingenuity. 
 
 The body of the nest is composed of haw-thorn 
 branches ; the tho-ns sticking outward, but well uni- 
 ted together by their mutual insertion. It is lined 
 with fibrous roots, wool, and Jong grass, and nicely 
 plaistered round with mud and clay. The body of the 
 nest being thus made firm and commodious, the 
 next work is to make the canopy which is to defend 
 it above. 
 
 This is composed of the sharpest thorns, so wove 
 together, as to deny all entrance except at the door 
 which is just large enough to permit egress and re. 
 gress to the owners. In this fortress the male and 
 female hatch and bring tip their brood with security 
 sheltered from all attacks but those of the climbing 
 school boy, who often finds his torn and bloody hands 
 too dear a price for the eggs or the young ones. 
 
 As the Wood-pecker is obliged to make holes in 
 trees to procure food, so is it also to make cavities still 
 larger to form its nest and to lay in. This is per. 
 formed as usual with the bill. He chuses for this 
 purpose, trees that are decayed, or wood that is soft, 
 like beech, elm, and popiar. In these 3 with very 
 little trouble, it can make holes as exactly round as 
 a mathematician could with compasses. Dne of these 
 holes the bird generally chuses for its own use, to 
 nestle, and brin^ up its young in, but as they are ea- 
 sily made, it is delicate in its choice, and often makes 
 twenty before one gives entire satisfaction; 
 
 In our climate, wood- peckers are contented with 
 a wainscoat habitation for their young, but in Gui- 
 nea and Brazil, (hey take a very different method. A 
 traveller who walks into the forests of these countries 
 among the first strange objects ; is struck with the 
 
233 
 
 multitude of birds nest hanging at the extremity of 
 almost every branch. Many other kinds of birds build 
 in this manner, but the chief of them are of the wood* 
 pecker kind. 
 
 In cultivated countries a great part of the caution 
 b f the feathered tribe, is to hide their nests from the 
 invasion of man. But in the depths of those remote 
 and solitary forests, the little bird having nothing to 
 apprehend from man, is careless how much the nest 
 is exposed to general notice : satisfied if it be ost of 
 the reach of those rapacious creatures that live by 
 robbery, and surprise. If the monkey or the snake 
 can be guarded against, the bird has no other ene- 
 mies to fear : for this purpose, its nest is built upon, 
 the depending points of the most outward branches 
 of a tall tree. On one of those immense trees, is 
 seen the most various assemblage of creatures that 
 can be imagined. The top h inhabited by monkies 
 of some particular tribe, that drive off all others : 
 IOWAT down twine about the trunk numbers of snakes, 
 waiting till some unwary animal comes within their 
 reach, and at the edges of the tree hang these artifu 
 cial nests, inhabited by birds of the meat delightful 
 plumage. 
 
 The nests are usually formed in this manner : 
 when the time of incubation approaches, they fly 
 beautifully about, in quest of a kind of moss, called 
 by the English, old man's b^ard. It is a fibrous sub- 
 stance, not unlike hair, which bears being moulded 
 into any form. This the little wood-pecker first 
 glues by some viscous substance, to the extreme 
 branch of a tree ; then building downward, a nest is 
 formed, that descends like a pouch, from the point 
 of the branch : the hole to enter at, is on the side ; 
 and all the interior parts are lined with the finer 
 parts of the tfame substance, which compose the 
 whole. 
 
 Such is the general contrivance of these hanging 
 nests; made by some other birds, with still superior 
 art. A little bird in the Philippine islands, makes 
 
234 
 
 its nest in such a manner that there is no opening but 
 from the bottom. At the bottom the bird enters, 
 and goes up through a funnel, like a chimney, till 
 it comes to the real door of the nest, which lies oa 
 one side, 
 
 Some birds glue their nests to the leaf of the banana 
 tree, which makes two sides of their little habita- 
 tion ; while the other two are artificially composed 
 by their own industry. But these, and all of the 
 kind, are built with the- same precautions, to guard 
 their young against the depredations of monkics and 
 serpent?. The nest hangs there* before the spoilers, 
 a tempting object, which they can only gaze upon, 
 while the bird goes in and out without danger and 
 molestation. 
 
 The Bird of Paradise appears to be as large as & 
 pigeon ? though in reality not much greater than a 
 thrush. The tail is about six inches long, the wings 
 are large, compared with the bird's other dimensions-. 
 The head, the throat and the neck are of a pale 
 goldrolour. The base ofthe bill is surrounded by black 
 feathers, as also the side of the head and throat, as 
 soft as velvet, and changeable like those on the neck 
 of a mallard. The hinder part of the head is of a 
 shining green, mixed with gold. The body and wings 
 are chiefly covered with brown, purple,aud gold fea- 
 thers. The uppermost part of the tail-feathers are of 
 a pale yellow, and those under them white and longer 
 than the former ; for which reason the hinder part 
 ofthe tail appears to be all white. But what chiefly 
 excites curiosity, are, two long naked feathers, which 
 spring from the upper part of the rump above th 
 tail, and are usually about three feet long. These 
 are bearded only at the beginning and the end, the 
 whole shaft, for above two feet nine inches, being of 
 a deep black, the feathered extremity of a chaageable 
 colour. 
 
 This bird is a native of the Molucca islands. There, 
 |D- the delightful and spicy womte, do these beauUful 
 
235 
 
 creatures fly in large flocks, so that the groves which 
 produce the richest spices, produce the finest birds 
 also. They are called by some, the swallows of 
 Ternate from their rapid flight, and from their being 
 continually upon the wing, in pursuit of insects, their 
 usual prey. 
 
 The American Mock-bird does not vie with the 
 feathered inhabitants of that country in the beauty of 
 his plumage. It is a plain bird about the size of a 
 thrush, of a white and grey colour, and a reddish 
 bill. It is possessed not only of its own 'natural 
 notes, which are musical and solemn, but can assume 
 the tone of every other animal iu the wood, from 
 the wolf to the raven. It seems even to sport , itself 
 in leading them astray. It will at one time allure 
 the lesser birds with the call of their males, and ter- 
 rify them when they come near with the screams of 
 the eagle. There is no bird in the forest, but it can 
 mimic ; and there is none that it has not at times de- 
 ceived by its call. But it is surest to please, when it 
 is most itself. 
 
 At those times it frequents the houses of the Ame* 
 rican planters, and sitting all night on the chimney, 
 top, pours forth the sweetest and the most various 
 notes of any bird whatever. 
 
 The Crane, is above three feet from the tip of the 
 beak to the tail, and four feet from the head to the 
 toe. It is a tall, slender bird, with a long neck and 
 long legs. The top of the head is covered with black 
 bristles, and the back of it is bald and red, which suffi- 
 ciently distinguishes this bird from the stork, to which 
 it is very nearly allied in size and figure. 
 
 Cranes were formerly known in this island,and held 
 in great estimation for the delicacy of their ilesh : 
 there was even a penalty upon such as destroyed their 
 eggs ; but at present, they never go so fav out uf 
 their, way. 
 
236 
 
 Cultivation and populousnoss go hand in hand ; 
 and though our fields may offer them a greater plenty, 
 yet they find the venture greater than the enjoyment, 
 and we are better off by their absence than their 
 company. 
 
 The Crane spends the autumn in Europe ; then flies 
 off to some more southern climate, returns to Europe 
 in spring, crosses up to the north in summer, visits 
 those lakes that are never dry, artd then comes down 
 again to Italy in autumn. 
 
 In these journies it is amazing to conceive the heights 
 to which they ascend. Their note is the loudest of all 
 birds, and that is often heard in the clouds, when the 
 bird 'itself is entirely unseen. But though unseen, 
 themselves, they have the distinct vision of every ob- 
 ject below. They govern and direct their flight by 
 their cries, and exhort each other to proceed or de. 
 scend when a fit opportunity offers. 
 
 Their loud clangorous sound is, when near, almost 
 deafenings however it is particularly serviceable to 
 the animal itself, either during its migrations or stay : 
 by it the flock is encouraged in their journies ; and if 
 ^vhile they are feeding, which is performed in profound 
 silence, they are invadod on any side, the bird that 
 first perceives it sounds the alarm, and ail are speedily 
 upon the wing. 
 
 The Stork also is a bird of passage, and goes away 
 toward winter to the southern countries. It has a 
 very long beak, and long red legs. It feeds on ser- 
 pents, frogs, and insects. As it seeks for these in 
 \vatry places, nature has provided it with long legs, 
 And as it flies to the nest with its prey, its bill is 
 strong and jagged to hold fast what it has taken : she 
 likewise digs wii.n her bill into the earth for snakes or 
 adders, which she carries to her young. Most of her 
 feathers are white. She lays but four eggs, and sits 
 for tii irty days, 
 
 But what renders this bird most remarkable is, its 
 
237 
 
 steady love to its parents. It never forsakes them 
 when they are old, but tenderly feeds and defends 
 them as long as they live. 
 
 The following adventure of a tame stork some years 
 ago in the University oi' Tubingen, seems to shew a 
 degree of understanding which one would scarce ex- 
 pect in the brute. creation. This bird lived quietly in 
 the court-yard, till Count Victor Gravenitz, then a 
 student there, shot at a stork's nest adjacent to the 
 college, and probably wounded the stork then in it. 
 This happened in autumn, when foreign storks usually 
 leave Germany. The next spring a stork was observ- 
 ed on the roof of the college, which after a time came 
 down to the upper gallery, the next day something 
 lower, and at last, by degrees quite into the court. 
 The tame stork went to meet him with a soft cheerful 
 note, when the other fell upon him with the utmost 
 fury. The spectators drove him away, but he came 
 again, the next day, and during the whole summer 
 there were continual skirmishes between them. The 
 spring following, instead of. one stork came four, and 
 attacked him all at once. A surprising event followed. 
 All the turkies, ducks, and geese, that were brought 
 up in the court, ran together, and formed a kind of 
 rampart round him, against so unequal a combat. This 
 secured him for the present : but in the beginning of 
 the third spring, about twenty storks suddenly alighted 
 in the court, and before the poor stork's life-guards 
 could form themselves, or the people come to his as- 
 sistance, they left him dead on the spot, which none 
 could impute to any thing but the shot fired by Count 
 Victor at the strange stork's nest. 
 
 The Pelican somewhat resembles a swan. The body 
 is as large, the neck nearly as long, the legs are short, 
 and the feet are black, broad, and webbed, in the 
 same manner. It is also of a whitish colour, only the 
 tips of some of his feathers are black. It is much in 
 the waters : it has a most horrid voice, like that of a 
 man grievously lamenting. 
 
238 
 
 Its beak is above a foot in length, and the point is 
 very sharp : the upper part is formed as in other birds, 
 but the lower is unlike every thing in nature. It is 
 made of two long flat ribs, with a tough membrane 
 onnected to one and the other ; this reaches also to 
 the throat, and is very broad and loose, so that it can 
 contain a vast quantity of provision. 
 
 Its eyes are very small ; there is a sadness in its 
 countenance: and its whole air is melancholy. They 
 are torpid and inactive to the last degree, so that 
 nothing can exceed their indolence, but their gluttony: 
 it is only from hunger that they labour, otherwise they 
 would continue in a fixed repose. When they have 
 raised themselves thirty or forty feet above the sea, 
 they turn their head with one eye downwards, and 
 continue to fly in that posture. As soon as they per- 
 ceive a fish near the surface, they dart upon it with 
 the swiftness of an arrow, seize it with unerring cer* 
 tainty, and store it up in their pouch. They then rise 
 again, and continue hovering and fishing with their 
 head on one side as before. 
 
 This work they continue till their bag is full, and 
 then fly to land to devour and digest it. This they 
 are not long performing; for towards night they have 
 another hungry call, and they again reluctantly go to 
 labour. At night fishing is over, and they retire a little 
 way from the shore; and though with the webbed feet 
 and clumsy figure of a goose, they will be contented 
 to perch nowhere but upon trees among the light and 
 airy tenants of the forest. There they repose for the 
 night, and often spend great part of the day, sitting 
 in dismal solemnity as it were half asleep. Their at- 
 titude is with the head resting upon their great bag, 
 and that resting upon their breast: there they re- 
 main without motion till the calls of hunger break their 
 repose. 
 
 The same indolence attends them even in preparing 
 for incubation, and defending their young. The fe- 
 male makes no preparation for her nest, nor seems to 
 chuse any place to lay in, but drops her eggs on the 
 
239 
 
 fcare ground, to the number of five or six, and there 
 continues to hatch them. Without any desire of de- 
 fending her eggs or her young, she gamely sits and 
 suffers them to be taken from under her. Now and 
 -then she just ventures to peck or to cry out when a 
 person offers to beat her off. She feeds her young with 
 fish macerated in her bag, and when they cry flies off 
 for a new supply. 
 
 They are but disagreeable and useless domestics * 
 their gluttony can scarcely be satisfied ; their flesh 
 smells very rancid, and tastes a thousand times worse 
 than it smells. The native Americans kill vast num- 
 bers ; not to eat, for they are not fit even for the 
 banquet of a savage, but to convert their large bags 
 into purses and tobacco-pouches. They bestow no 
 small pains in dressing it with salt and ashes, rubbing 
 it well with oil, and then forming it to their purpose. 
 It thus becomes so soft and pliant, that the Spanish 
 women sometimes adorn it with gold and embroidery to 
 snake work-bags of. 
 
 Yet with all the hebetude of this bird; it is not en- 
 tirely incapable of instruction. The emperor Maxi- 
 milian had a tame pelican which lived for above eighty 
 years, and always attended his army on the march. 
 
 The Albatross is one of the largest and most formi- 
 dable birds of Africa and America. It is as large as a 
 goose, of a brown colour, and is one of the most fierce 
 of the aquatic tribe, not only living upon fish, but also 
 such small water- fowl as it can take by surprise. It 
 preys, as all the gull kind do, upon the wing, and 
 chiefly pursues the flying-fish. These are every mo. 
 mcnt rising to escape from their pursuers of the deep, 
 only to encounter equal dangers in the air. Just as 
 they rise, the dolphin is seen to dart after them, but 
 generally in vain. The gull has more success, and 
 often takes them at their rise, while the albatross pur- 
 sues the gull, so that the whole horizon presents but 
 one living picture of rapacity and evasion* 
 
 But though this bird be one of the tyrants of the 
 
240 
 
 deep, there are some associations which even tyrants 
 form, either by caprice or necessity. The albatross 
 has a peculiar affection for the penguin. They chuse 
 the same places for breeding, some distant uninhabited 
 island, where the ground slants to the sea, as the pen- 
 guin is not formed either for flying or climbing. In 
 such places their nests are seen together, as if they 
 stood in need of mutual assistance. Our men upon 
 Falkland islands were often amazed at the union pre- 
 served between those birds. In that bleak and desolate 
 spot, where they no way dreaded the encroachments 
 of men, they seemed to make their abode as comfort- 
 able as they expected it to be lasting. They built with 
 an amazing degree of uniformity ; their nests covering 
 fields by thousands, and resembling a regular planta. 
 tion. In the middle on high, the albatross raised its 
 nest, built of heath, sticks, and long grass, about two 
 feet above the surface; round this the penguins made 
 their lower settlements, rather in holes in the ground, 
 anil most usually eight penguins to one albatross. 
 
 Nothingis a stronger proof that the presence of man 
 not only destroys the society of meaner animals, but 
 their instincts also. These nests are now totally de- 
 stroyed, the society is broke up, and albatross and 
 penguins have gone to breed upon more desert shores 
 in greater security. 
 
 The Swan is as delicate in its appetite, as elegant in 
 As form. Its chief food is corn, bread, herbs growing 
 in the water, and roots and seeds, which are found 
 near the margin. It prepares a nest in some retired 
 part of the bank, and chiefly where there is an islet in 
 the stream. This is composed of water-plants, long 
 grass, and sticks ; and the male and female assist in 
 forming it with great assiduity. The swan lays seven 
 or eight es^gs, white, much larger than those of a 
 goose. It sits near two months before its young are 
 excluded^ which are ash-coloured, for some months. 
 It is dangerous to approach the old ones, when their 
 little family is feeding round them. They soon take the 
 
alarm, and they sometimes give a blow with their 
 pinion that breaks a man's leg or arm. 
 
 It is not till they are a twelvemonth old that the 
 young swans change their colour with their plumage. 
 All the stages of this bird's approach to maturity are 
 slow, and mark its longevity. A goose has been 
 known to live a hundred years, and the swan is sup- 
 posed to live still longer. 
 
 The Goose, in its domestic state, exhibits a variety 
 of colours. The wild goose always retains the same 
 marks ; the whole upper part is ash. coloured, the 
 breast and belly are of a dirty white, the bill is narrow 
 at the base, and at the tip it is black. These marks 
 are seldom found in the tame, whose bill is entirely 
 red, and whose legs are entirely brown. The wild 
 goose is rather less than the tame ; but both invariably 
 retain a white ring round the tail, which shews that 
 they are both descended from the same original. 
 
 xhe wild goose breeds in the northern parts of Ei' 
 rope, and in the beginning of winter descends into 
 more temperate regions. They are often seen Hying 
 at very great height*, in flocks from fifty to a hundred. 
 Their cry is frequently heard when they are at an 
 imperceptible distance above us : and this seems 
 handed from one to the other, as among hounds in 
 the pursuit. 
 
 Upon their coming to the ground by day, they 
 range themselves in a line, aud seem rather to tlt-scend 
 for rest than refreshment. When they have sat in this 
 manner for an hour or two, one of them, with a loud 
 long note, sounds a kiud of charge, to which the 
 rest attend, and pursue their journey wit^i renewed 
 alacrity. 
 
 The wild goose seldom lays above eight eggs, the 
 tame goose .often above twenty. The female hatches 
 her eggs with great assiduity, while the gander visits 
 her twice or thrice a day, and sometimes drives her 
 off to take her place, where -he sits with great state 
 and composure. 
 
 VOL. i. M 
 
242 
 
 But beyond that of all animals, is his pride when he 
 young are-excluded : he seems then to consider himself 
 as a champion : Jie pursues dogs and men that never 
 attempt to molest him; and though the most harmless 
 thing alive, is then the most petulant and provoking. 
 When, in this manner, he has pursued the calf or the 
 mastiff, to whose .contempt alone he is indebted for 
 safety, he returns to his female and her brood in tri- 
 umph, clapping his wings, screaming, and shewing 
 all the marks of conscious superiority. 
 
 The Soland-Goosc, somewhat less than aland goose, 
 is white ; only the tips of its wings are black, and the 
 top of the head yellow. The bill is long, and so sharp 
 pointed, that it pierces an inch deep into a board, 
 w hen they stoop at fish which are laid thereon : this is 
 one way of catching them. When they sleep they put 
 their head under their wings ; but one keeps watch. 
 It that be surprised by the fowler, which frequently 
 happens, a!i the rest are easily caught by theneckone 
 alter another. But if the sentinel cries and gives them 
 warning, the whole flock escapes. When they fish 
 for herrings, which come in shoals, they fly near sixty 
 yards high, and stoop perpendicularly : but when 
 they aim at a single fish, they descend aslant. 
 
 There is always one tribe among them which is bar- 
 ren : these keep together, and never mix with them 
 that build and hatch. (Is it not probable that these 
 are the malts, like the drones among the bees?) The 
 Solard grese come to the Western Isles in Scotland in 
 March, taking the advantage of a south-west wind* 
 They send a few before them who make a towr round 
 the isles, and then return to their company. In a few 
 clavs after, the whole flock comes together, and stays 
 fill September. All this time they are daily making 
 \ip their nests in the shelves of high rocks. They fish, 
 hatch, and make their nests by turns. In order to this, 
 they amass together not only heaps of grass, but what, 
 ever else they find floating on the water. In a nest 
 
243 
 
 on St. Kilda, was found a soldier's red coat, and some 
 Molucca beans in another. 
 
 They are thought the sharpest sighted of all sea. 
 fowls. They have a large gorget somewhat like a pe- 
 lican, in which one of them will preserve five or six 
 herrings entire, and carry them to her nest, where 
 they empty them out for food to their young. Nay, 
 they have been observed to go a fishing to some isles 
 which are thirty leagues distant, and bring the fish in 
 their gorget all that way. 
 
 In the isle of Rona (one of the Scotch Western isles) 
 there are a couple of eagles, which the natives say, 
 not only drive away their young as soon as they 
 are able to fly, but keep possession of the island, 
 not suffering any of their kind to live there but them- 
 selves. 
 
 There are also a couple of rarens in this island, 
 which beat away all ravenous fowls. And when 
 their own young are able to fly, they beat away them 
 likewise. 
 
 That which in Iceland they call <he Down -bird, is 
 very remarkable: it is a species of duck, but covered 
 with fine soft downy feathers. The drake is full as 
 large as a goose, but the duck considerably smaller; 
 They abound all over Iceland, but particularly the 
 western part, on account of the islands off the coast, 
 where chiefly they build their nests : they build them 
 with the down they pull from their breast. They lay 
 four green eggs as large as a goose. The inhabitants 
 then take away both the eggs and the nest. Tlu: ducks 
 goto work again, pull more down from tjid breasts, 
 and lay four eggs more, which are again .*jicn away 
 by the inhabitants. This does not however discourage 
 the duck: she builds a third nest, and lays four more 
 eggs : but the drake is now obliged to supply the down, 
 the duck having none left. They now let her hatch her 
 young: for if they disturb her a third time, she builds 
 
 M2 
 
244 
 
 no more that year, nor ever returns to the same place. 
 When the young have left the nest, they take it a third 
 time, and so have two sets of eggs, aud three parcels 
 of down from the same nest. 
 
 The Bat seems a medium between bird and beast ; 
 but it comes nearer to the latter. They lay themselves 
 up and sleep for the winter months, in the dryest parts 
 of caves. There fixing their talons in the roof, they 
 cover their bodies with their wings, and hang perpen- 
 dicularly in great numbers, but so as not to touch each 
 other. 
 
 Who can account for another matter of fact which 
 is particularly observed on ,the Western Islands ? The 
 Western ocean throws up on their shores great qtian. 
 titles of weather-beaten tinsber, on which hang multi- 
 tudes of little shells fastened to one another, much as 
 muscle-shells are. In every one of these shells is a 
 perfect fowl : the little bill is like that of a goose, the 
 eye marked, the head, neck, breast, win^s, tail, and 
 feet formed. The feathers are perfectly shaped, and of 
 a blackish colour, and the feet like those of other 
 water fowl : but we cannot hear of any person that 
 ever saw any of them alive. 
 
 Now as bats are a kind of medium between beasfs 
 and birds, are not barnacles a kind of medium between 
 birds and fishes. 
 
 I-will conclude this account of birds with one that 
 seems to unite in itsdf somewhat of every class preced- 
 ing. It is at once possessed of appetites for prey like 
 the rapacious kinds, and an attachment to water like 
 the birds of that element. It exhibits in its form the 
 beautiful plumage of the peacock, the shading* of the 
 humming bird, the bill of the crane, and the short legs 
 of the swallow. The bird 1 mean is the King Fisher : 
 it is not much larger than a swallow ; its shape is 
 ^ the legs very small^ and the bill very long ; 
 
215 
 
 it is (wo inches from the base to the tip, but the colours 
 of this bird atone for its inelegant Form. The crown 
 of the head and the edges of the wings are of a deep 
 blackish green, spotted with bright azure; the back 
 and tail are of the most resplendent azure ; the whole 
 under-side of the body is orange-coloured ; a broad 
 mark of the same passes from the biJl beyond the eyes, 
 beyond that is a large white spot ; the tail is short, 
 and consists of twelve feathers of a rich deep blue ; the 
 feet are of a reddish yellow. 
 
 From the diminutive size, and the beautiful colours 
 of this bird, no person would be led to suppose it so 
 rapacious an animal. It is ever on the wing, and 
 feeds on fish, which it takes in surprising quantities, 
 balancing itself at a certain distance above the water 
 fora considerable space, then darting down and seizing 
 the fish with inevitable certainty. 
 
 The king fisher, with which we are acquainted, has 
 none of those supposed powers of allaying the storm, 
 or building upon the waves. It is contented to make 
 its nests on the banks of rivers, in such situations as 
 not to be affected by the rising of the stream. Whea 
 it has found a place for its purpose, it hollows out with 
 its bill a hole about a yard deep ; or if it finds the de- 
 serted hole of a rat, it takes quiet possession. This 
 hole it enlarges at the bottom, and lining it with the 
 down of the willow, lays its eggs there without any 
 further preparation. 
 
 The female begins to lay early in the season, and 
 excludes her first brood about the beginning of April. 
 The male brings her large provisions offish, while she 
 is thus employed, and she, contrary to most other 
 birds, is found fat at the season of hatching. 
 
 9, I have now only to add a few reflections. 
 
 And 1. That birds should all lay eggs, and not bring 
 
216 
 
 forth live young, is a clear argument of Divine Pro- 
 viden.ce, designing their preservation thereby. For if 
 they had been viviparous, had they brought any num- 
 ber at a time, the burden of their womb must have" 
 been so great and heavy, that their wings would have 
 failed, and they become an easy prey to their enemies. 
 And had they borne but one at a time,they would have 
 been bearing all the year e 
 
 2. Since it would have been many ways inconvenient 
 to birds to give suck, and yet inconvenient if not de- 
 structive to the new-born chick, to pass suddenly from 
 liquid t<5 hard food, before the stomach was strengthen. 
 ed and able to digest it, and before the bird was ac. 
 customed to use its bill, and gather it up, which it 
 docs at first very slowly and imperfectly ; therefore 
 nature has provided in every egg a large yolk, which 
 serves the chicken a considerable time instead of milk. 
 Mean time it feeds by the mouth a little at a time, and 
 that more and more, till the stomach is strengthened 
 to digest it. 
 
 3. Birds that feed their young in the nest, though 
 they bring but one morsel at a time^ arid have perhaps 
 seven or eight, which all at once, with equal greedi- 
 ness, hold up their heads and gape tor it; yet 
 never mistake, never omit one, but feed them all by 
 turns. 
 
 4. Though birds cannot number, yet they are able 
 to distinguish many from few ; and when they have 
 laid as many eggs as they can cover, they give over, 
 and begin to sit. Yet they are not determined to such 
 a number : they can go on and lay more at their plea- 
 sure. Hens, for instance, if you let their eggs alone, 
 lay fourteen or fifteen, and give over; but if you with, 
 draw their eggs daily, they will goon to lay five times 
 that number. T ! ,, , holds not only in domestic birds, 
 but also in the \viid. A swallow, when her eggs were 
 withdrawn daily, proceeded to lay nineteen. 
 
247 
 
 5. It is remarkable that birds, and such other ovi- 
 parous creatures as art? long lived, have- eggs enough* 
 conceived in them at first to serve laying for many 
 years, allowing such a proportion for every year as 
 will suffice for one or two incubations. "Whereas in- 
 sects, which are to breed but once, iay all their eggs 
 at once, be they ever so many* 
 
 6. How exceeding speedy is the growth of birds that 
 are fed by the old ones in the nest. Most of them 
 come to near the full bigness, within the short term of 
 a fortnight : an admirable provision tnat they may not 
 lie long in that helpless condition, exposed to the .ra- 
 vine of any vermin, and utterly unable to shift for 
 themselves. 
 
 7. What amazing care do the parents take for the 
 hatching and rearing of their you-g ? First, they seek 
 put a secret and quiet place, where they may bs un- 
 disturbed in their incubation. Then they make their 
 nests, every one after his kind, that their eggs and 
 young may be soft and warm ; and those so elegant 
 and artificial, as no art of man can imitate. 
 
 After they have laid their eggs, how diligently d > 
 they sit upon them, scarce giving themselves time to 
 go oif to get them meat: ? When the young are hatched, 
 Jiow diligently do they brood over them, lest the cold 
 should hurt them ? All the while labouring hard to 
 get them food, and almost starving themselves, lest 
 they should Mant. Moreover, with what courage an 
 they inspired, so as to venture their own lives in de- 
 feu c-e of them ? The most timorous, as hens and geese, 
 daring then even to 11 y in the face of a man. And all 
 these pains are bestowed upon those that will render 
 them no thank.s for it ! And they are bestowed just so 
 long as is necessary ; for when the young is able to 
 shift for itself, the old retains no such alfection for it, 
 but will beat it indifferently with others. 
 
 8. It is another proof of a superintending Providencej 
 
 M 4 
 
218 
 
 that all animals are produced at the most convenient 
 time of the year, just when there is food and enter- 
 tainment ready for them. So Iambs, kids, and many 
 other living creatures, are brought into the world iu 
 the spring, when tender grass and nutritive plants are 
 provided for their food. The like may be observed 
 concerning silk* worms, whose eggs are hatched just 
 when the leaves of the mulberry tree appear; the 
 aliment being soft and tender, while the worms them- 
 selves are 30, and growing more strong and substantial 
 as the insects increase in bulk and vigour. 
 
 9. A still farther proof hereof we have in the various 
 instincts of animals, directed to ends which th<y know 
 not, as, 1. All creatures know how to defend them- 
 selves, and oilend their enemies ; all krtow what their 
 natural weapons arc, and how to make use of them. 
 A boar knows the use of his tusks, a horse of his 
 hoof's, a cock of his spurs, a bee of her sfing. Yea a 
 calf will make a push with his head, even before any 
 horns appear, tf. Those creatures which have not 
 strength to light, are usually swift of foot or wing, and 
 are uatu rally inclined to make use of that swiftness, 
 and save themselves by Might. 3. Every creature 
 knows and shuns its natural enemy, as a lamb lioos 
 the wolf, and partridge or poultry birds of prey; and 
 they make use of a peculiar note to warn their young 
 of their approach, who thereupon immediately run to 
 shelter. 4- As soon as ever it is brought forth, every 
 animal knows its food. Such as are nourished with 
 milk, immediately rind their way to the paps, and 
 suck ; whereas those which are designed for other 
 nourishment, never make any such attempt. 5. Birds 
 that are fin-toed, or whole-footed, are naturally di- 
 rected to go into the water. So ducklings, though, 
 hatched and led by a hen, if she brings them to the 
 brink of a river or pond, presently leave her and go 
 iu, though they never saw any such thing before, and 
 though the hen clucks and calls, and does all she can 
 to keep them out. 6. l>irds of the same kinds make 
 
249 
 
 their nests of the same- materials, laid in th# same or* 
 der, and exactly of the same figure, so that by the 
 sight of the nest one may certainly know what bird it 
 belongs to. And thi< 5 though living in distant coun 
 tries, and though, they never saw any nest made ; that 
 is, although they were taken out of the nest, and 
 brought up by hand. Nor were any of the same kind 
 ever known to make a different nest, either for matter 
 or fashion, unless where the usual matter was not 
 to be had ; in that case,, some birds use what the/ 
 can get. 
 
 I would add a little farther improvement of some 
 particulars mentioned before. 
 
 What master has taught birds that they have an/ 
 need of nests ? Who has warned them to prepare them 
 in time, and', not to suffer themselves to be prevented 
 by necessity?. Who hath shewn them how to build? 
 What mathematician has given the iig.ure of them? 
 What architect, has taught them to choose a firm pi ice ? 
 and- to build a solid foundation? What tender mother 
 has advised them to caver the bottom, with a soft and 
 delicate substance, such as cotton or down, and when 
 these fail, who has suggested, to them tii.it in^eni >us 
 charity, to pluck off. as many feathers from their own, 
 breast, as will prepare a suit cradle for their, yoiijjg? 
 
 Again. What wis.Jom has pointed out to. cadi Kind 
 a peculiar manner, of building ? W.iio has couinind.tl 
 the swalljw, to instance in 'one, todr.iw mur to'iun, 
 a d make choice of a is hoase for tue b.r>!.hng her Jie-.f,. 
 within his view, without fear of his ktiovvui^ i;, but 
 Seeming rathei to invite him to a consideration of her 
 labour? Nor d es sht baud liliti other jirds, wrii Dits 
 of sticks and stu!)bie, but employs c^-in lit a ul mortar^, 
 and tnat in so firm a man.icr, Hut it v i q n, s s mio 
 pains t>> JomjlisU IKT wont. \ ul yet- in. aii.t ,is, it 
 has no other i.istrumcut to viuke use ol uut a. little 
 
 j 
 
 Yi. ,':'., M ,'ho Viv made th ' i.Js compriheml tha 
 
 -i 5, 
 
250 
 
 they must hatch their eggs by sitting upon them : that 
 this necessity is indispensible ; that the father and 
 mother could not leave them at the same time: and 
 that if one went abroad to seek for food, the other 
 must wait till it returns ? Who has told them the pre- 
 cise number of days this painful diligence is to cost? 
 Who has taught them to assist the young in coming 
 out of the egg, by breaking the shell for them ? Yea, 
 and advertised them of the very moment before which 
 they never come ? 
 
 Who has taught several of the birds that marvellous 
 industry of retaining food and water in their gullet, 
 without swallowing either, and preserving them for 
 their young, to whom this preparation serves instead 
 of milk? 
 
 Is it for the birds, O Lord, who have no knowledge 
 thereof, that thou hast joined together so many mi. 
 racles? Is it for the men who give no attention to 
 them ? Is it for those who admire them, without think- 
 ing of thee? Rather is it not thy design, by all these 
 wonders, to call us to thyself-' To make us sensible 
 of thy wisdom, and fill us with confidence in thy 
 bounty, who watches t so carefully over those incon- 
 siderable creatures, two of which are sold for a 
 farthing ? 
 
 But pass we from the industry of birds to hearken 
 fora moment to their mulsic : 'the first so-,ig of thanks, 
 giving which was otle: i d on earth before man was form* 
 ed. All their sounds are different, but all harmonious, 
 and Altogether compose a choir which vre cannot imi- 
 tate. One voice however more strong and melodious 
 I distinguish above the rest. On enquiry, I find it 
 comes from a very small bird. This leads me to con- 
 sider the rest of tie singing birds: they likewise are 
 ail small; the great ones having a harsh and disagree- 
 able voice. Such an amends is made to these weak 
 little creatures for their defect of strength I 
 
23 r 
 
 Some . of these little birds are extremely beautiful, 
 nor can any thing he more rich or variegated than 
 their feathers : but it must be owned, that all orna- 
 ment must give place to the finery of the peacock ; 
 upon which God has plentifully bestowed all the 
 riches which set off the rest, and lavished upon it with 
 gold and azure all the shades of every other colour. 
 This bird seems sensible of its advantage, and looks a* 
 if it designed to display all its beauties to our eyes, 
 when it stalks along and expands that splendid circum- 
 ference which sets them all in open view. 
 
 But this pompous bird has of all others that are 
 kept tame, the most disagreeable cry, and is a proof 
 that there may be a shining outside^ when there is little 
 substance within, 
 
 In examining the feathers of the rest, I find one 
 more circumstance very observable. That feathers of 
 5. wans and other water fowl are proof against tho water> 
 and accordingly they continue dry, though the creature 
 swims or dives ever so long ; and yet neither our eyes 
 nor all our art can discover wherein they differ from 
 others. 
 
 i know not how to conclude this chapfer without 
 adding a few more reflections. 
 
 All the universe is replenished with life, and every 
 part of it with its proper aaimals : but would one ex- 
 pect lo see them in the air ? Nothing seems more na- 
 tural to our eyes ; but nothing is more astonishing to 
 our reason. The fact is certain, and yet might seem 
 to be altogether impossible. A bird in lii^i-t is a mass 
 raised aloft, in spite of tue gravity oi the air, and tne 
 tendency of all bod-es to the earth : tins mass is raised 
 not by any foreign force, but by a movement su.u d 
 to the purpose* of the creatuiv, an-1 which sustained it 
 ifi the ah j for a considerable tinu^ with a peaceful 
 vigour, 
 
 M 6 
 
252 
 
 Again. In the i^hole kingdom of bircTs, none hare 
 'more than two wings, and yet they all fly in a different 
 manner. Some launch away by repeated springs*; 
 others glide through the air with an even motion ; 
 ihe<-e always slum over the earth ; those soar up to the 
 clouds. Some know how to diversify their Ilight by a 
 straight oblique, or circular motion : to suspend their 
 bodies and continue motionless in an element lighter 
 than themselves : after this, to start into a horizontal 
 motion, and then dart either to the right or left, wheel 
 into a contrary tract, remount, and then precipi-tafe 
 themselves like a descending stone : in a word, they 
 transport themselves without opposition or hazard 
 wherever their necessities or pleasures call them, 
 
 The structure of their nests, the care with which 
 they attend (heir eggs, the mechanism of the eggitseJf. 
 and i he birth and education of their young, are equal. 
 Jy astonishing. Seethe perfect similitude that appears 
 in all the nests of birds of the same species, the con. 
 stant difference between the nests of one species and 
 another; together with the neatness and precaution 
 which all of them observe. One species builds its nest 
 on the (op of trees, another on the ground, under a 
 canopy of grass, but always with a shelter, either of 
 herbs or a branch, or a double roof of leaves, down 
 which the raiu slides, without entering the opening 
 which lies conceal. "1 bt law. 'JChe outward parts of the 
 nest is made', or' solid materials, thorns, reeds, day, or 
 compact inos? ; the. inner of softer materials closely in- 
 ter woven, so as to keep out both wind? and insects. 
 But each species has a peculiar taste. When the build. 
 ing is completed some hang the inside with a tapestry 
 of feathers, or quilt it- with wool or silk. 
 
 How admirably does this display the wisdom of Him 
 who furnished man with reason, which extends to 
 every thing aroirhd him, and inspired animals with an 
 imitation oi it ; limited indeed to a few points ; but ad- 
 
253 
 
 mirable in that limitation ? For who informed thft 
 bird that she should lay eggs, arid want a nest to lodge 
 and nourish them with genial heat ? That this heat 
 would not be concentered round (he eggs, if the n -st 
 were too large, and that were it smaller it would not 
 be capable of containing all the young? Who has 
 taught her not to mis-calculate the time, or Jay her 
 eggs before she has completed her nest ? 
 
 The same wisdom will more fully appear, if we ob- 
 serve what the egg contains, with the manner how the 
 young is there formed, and how it issues from its con- 
 finement. ^ 
 
 The yolk lies in the heart of the egg, inclosed hi 
 the first membrane, which is surrounded by the se- 
 cond. Near the centre of the e**g are the ligaments 
 that sustain the yolk, which is contained in a peculiar 
 membrane. A second membrane incloses the first 
 white, a third and fourth encompasses the whole. Hie 
 shell is formed last of all out of the salts evacuated 
 from all the humours of the body, which the heat 
 gradually fixes and , consolidates, to serve a d nible 
 purpose, first that it may be excluded without crush- 
 tug the contents ; secondly, to defend their \ oir.ig, 
 till it is thoroughly formed, and ready to tort>aku the 
 
 the membrane which surrounds th? yolk is a 
 white speck, which is the seed of the clii/.k iu minia- 
 ture. If the smallest portion of tlu vital spirit be in* 
 fused into it from the male, by a process of \v i.c'i we 
 have no idea, in the instant the chick receives life, arid 
 the whole substance is in motion. 1. it is not infused, 
 the egg may indeed be laid, but it never conies to a 
 living creature. 
 
 The pulsation of the heart bears some analogy to 
 the pendulum of a clock, from whose vibrations the 
 whole machiuedcrivcs all its motions : the moment the 
 heart begins to beat, the animal is alive, and rect ives 
 by the umbilic duct, the nourishment which it traus- 
 
254 
 
 rnits to the other vessels, w.hose branches distribute it 
 to the whole body. All tho&e little canals which were 
 flat before, are now swelled and enlarged : the whole 
 substance imbibes a proper aliment, and the chick be- 
 gins to grow. 
 
 In this situation of the speck out of which if: is 
 formed, one circumstance is highly remarkable. This 
 minute particle which is lodged on the film that in- 
 cludes the yolk is always near the centre of the egg, 
 and toward the boc!y of the dam, in order to be im- 
 pregnated with a necessary warmth ; but in how ad. 
 jnirable a manner is this effected ? The yolk is sus- 
 tained by two ligaments, which fasten it on each side 
 to the common membrane, that is glued on the shell. 
 A line drawn from one ligament to the other would 
 not pass through the middle of the yolk, but above 
 the centre, and cut the yolk in two unequal parts, so 
 that the smaller part which contains the seed, is of ne- 
 cessity' raised towards the belly of birds that sit : the 
 other part as necessarily subsides, so that let the egg 
 turn as it will, the young receives no hurl, but still 
 enjoys a warmth that puts all about it in motion. So 
 it feeds at case, first on the white, which is more thin 
 and delicate, and afterwards on the yolk, which af- 
 fords more substantial nourishment. When his bill is 
 hardened, and he grows uneasy at his confinement, 
 he pecks and breaks the shell, and issues out fully 
 replenished with the yolk, which nourishes him a little 
 longer, till he is strong enough to raise himself upon 
 his feetj and can march about to look for provisions.. 
 
255 
 
 CHAPTER III, 
 
 OF FISHES. 
 
 j. The number of Fishes. 
 
 2. Their Covering. 10. Experiments on Fish. 
 
 3. Their Brain. 11. Of Shell-Fish. 
 
 4. Organs of Sense: 12. Of the Generation of Fishes. 
 
 5. Gills or Lungs: 13. Of some particular Sorts of 
 
 6. Heart : Fishes. 
 
 7. Air-Bladder: 14. General Reflections, 
 
 8. Stomach: 
 
 T, 
 
 HE ocean is the great receptacle of fishes. It has 
 been thought by some, that all fishes are naturally of the 
 salt element, and that they have mounted up into fresh, 
 water by some accidental migrations. A few still swim, 
 up rivers |to deposit their spawn ; but the great body 
 of fishes, of which the size is enormous, and the shoals 
 endless 5 keep to (he sea, and would expire in fresh 
 water. In that extensive and undiscovered abode, 
 millions reside, whose manners are a secret to us, and 
 whose very form is unknown. The curiosity of man- 
 kind, indeed, has drawn some from their depths, and 
 his wants many more. With the figure of these at 
 least he is acquainted : but for their pursuits, societies, 
 antipathies, pleasures, times of gestation, and manner 
 of bringing forth these, all are hidden in the turbu'e.at 
 element that protects them. 
 
256 
 
 1. The number of fish to which we have given names, 
 and of the figure, at least, of which we know some- 
 thing, are above four hundred. Thus to appearance 
 the history of fish is tolerably copious, but when we 
 come to examine, it will be found the greatest part of 
 these we know very little of. 
 
 2. As most animals that live upon land have a cover- 
 ing to keep off the injuries of the weather, so all that 
 live in the water are covered with a slimy glutinous 
 matter, that, like a sheath, defends fheir bodies from 
 the surrounding fluid. Tliis substance, secreted from 
 the pores of the animal's body, serves not only to de- 
 feud but to assist the fish's easy progress through the 
 water. Beneath thi? ? in many kinds, is found a strong 
 covering of scales, that, like a coat of mail, defends 
 it still more powerfully, and under that, before we 
 come to the muscular parts of (he body, an oily 
 substance, which supplies the requisite warmth and 
 rigour. 
 
 3. It is observable in all, that though their heads 
 Hre mrtch larger in proportion to their bodies, yet their 
 brain is considerably less than th;U of other animals-. 
 It consists of only two small ventricles placed in; the 
 fore-part of the head. 
 
 4. Their organs of sense do not much differ from 
 those of other animals; but ia their eyes this is pecu- 
 liar, that they are quite spherical, and that the optic 
 nerves, in coming from the brain, cross each other : 
 wbcreas in other animals they incline a little to each 
 otht-r, but dj not meet. A protuberant eye would 
 have been inconvenient tor fishes, by hindering their 
 motion in so dense a medium, and their continually 
 brushing through the water would have been apt to 
 wear their eyes ; therefore their cornea is tlat : but to 
 make amends for this, and for the refraction of water, 
 different from that of air, the wise Creator has made 
 their crystalline spherical, which iu other animals is 
 
257 
 
 more fiat. It was formerly believed they did not hoar 
 at all; but from later experiments, there is reason to 
 believe that several species of them do hear, though 
 but in a low degree. Over the two holes in their 
 head, which serve for smelling, a fine membrane is 
 spread, by which means they can open and shut them 
 at pleasure; a contrivance highly necessary for crea- 
 tures that live in the water. 
 
 The sense of smelling which in beasts is so exquisite, 
 and among birds is not wholly unknown, seems given 
 to fishes iu a very moderate proportion. It is true 
 that all tishes have one or more nostrils, and even those 
 that have not the holes perceptible without, yet have 
 the proper formation of the bones for smelling within. 
 But as air is the only medium we know, for the distri- 
 bution of odours, it cannot be supposed that these 
 animals residing in water can be possessed of any 
 power of being affected by them, if they have any 
 perception of smells, it must be in the sa;ne manner as 
 we distinguish by our taste ; and it is probable, the ol- 
 factory membrane in fishes, serve them instead of a 
 distinguishing palate : by this they judge of substances 
 that first tincturing the water with their vapours, are 
 thus sent to the nostrils of the fish, and no doubt pro- 
 duce some kind of sensation. This most probably 
 must be the use of that organ in those animals, as 
 otherwise there would be the instrument of a sense 
 provided for them, without any power in them of en- 
 joyment. 
 
 Hearing in fishes is found still more imperfect, if it 
 be found at all. Certain it is, that anatomists have 
 not been able to discover, except in the whale kind, 
 the smallest traces of an organ of hearing, either with- 
 in or without the head. Indeed, of what advantage 
 would this sense be to animals that are incapable of 
 making themselves heard ? They have no voice to com. 
 mnnicate with each other, and consequently have no 
 need of an organ for hearing. 
 
258 
 
 Seeing seems to be the sense which fishes are pos- 
 sessed of in the greatest degree. And yet even this is 
 obscure, if we compare it to that of other animals* 
 The eye, in almost all fish, is covered with the same 
 transparent skin that covers the rest of the head, and 
 which probably serves to defend it from the water, as 
 they are without eye lids. The globe of the eye is 
 depressed before, and is furnished behind with a 
 muscle which serves to strengthen or flatten it, ac- 
 cording to the necessities of the animal. The crystal- 
 line humour, which in beasts is flat, and of the shape 
 of a button mould, in fishes is as round as a pea, or 
 sometimes oblong like an egg. 
 
 From all this, it appears that fishes ;are extremely 
 rirar-sighted, and that even in the water they can sets 
 objects only -at a very small distance. 
 
 Thus nature seems (o hare fitted these animals with 
 appetites and powers of an inferior kind, and formed 
 them for a sort of -passive existence in the obscure 
 and heavy element to which they are consigned : to 
 preserve their own existence, and to continue it to 
 their posterity, fill up the whole circle of .their pur. 
 suits and enjoyments. 
 
 5, Some fishes have lungs, but in the greater part 
 the place of them is supplied by gills. As we take in 
 and throw out the air by our Jungs, so they take in 
 the air, mixed with the water, by their mouth, and 
 throw it out by their gills. 
 
 There is always much air enclosed in water. This 
 the gills separate from it, and present to the blood, 
 as it is presented in the lungs of other animals. Each 
 gill contains a great number of bony laminae, consist* 
 ing of an infinity of bony fibres, that sustain the in- 
 numerable ramifications of the veins and arteries, 
 which present the blood extremely sub- divided, and 
 as it were, each globule by itself to the water : between 
 the lamina^, through the whole contexture of the 
 
259 
 
 are an infinity of very narrow passages, which receive 
 and divide the water taken in by the mouth, into mi- 
 nute particles. Then the air, its prison-doors being in 
 some measure opened, escapes and joins the blood of 
 all ihe little arteries. 
 
 The gills have an alternate motion of dilatation 
 and compression. When they dilate, the water is 
 taken in ; when they contract, it is driven out. It 
 seems that in the instant of contraction, the air ex- 
 pressed from the water is forced in to the blood-vessels. 
 It is the same, as to our lungs. The air enters them 
 at the time of inspiration, but is received into the 
 blood at the tirae of expiration only. So that the 
 water which is taken hi f by the mouth of fishes, when 
 stripped of its air, is carried off by the gills. Meantime 
 the air which is thus gained is distributed first to 
 those fine ramifications of the arteries, wh'ich are ex- 
 panded upon the gill throughout, and then to the 
 Teins inosculated therewith. And fishes can no more 
 live without a constant supply of this, than land ani- 
 mals can. 
 
 The gills in all fishes are eight, four on each side. 
 The lower gill is always smaller than the rest. The 
 other three on each side are gradually larger to the 
 top one, which is always the largest. Each of .these is 
 formed of a bony substance, bent into the shape either 
 of a semicircle or a bow. On the convex side of this, 
 there is a sort of plumes or leaves, each of which con- 
 sists of a double row of bony lamella, formed like so 
 many sickles, and fixed to the convex side of the bow 
 by means of the membrane wherewith it h covered. 
 
 These lamella have one part convex, and the other 
 concave. The concave part of each lamella is applied 
 to the convex part of the next opposite lamella. 
 Every lamella is invested with a fine membrane^which 
 receives the ramifications of the blood-vessels. Every 
 gill has an artery, a vein and a nerve. The gills re* 
 ceive the blood which is thrown from the heart into 
 the aorta, and derive it to the utmost parts of the 
 
260 
 
 lamella, from whence it returns by veins which dis* 
 tribute it throughout the body. 
 
 6. In most fishes tho heart is like that in other 
 animals. But in some it has only one ventricle ; 
 which necessarily occasions a difference in the manner 
 wherein the blood circulates. In some also the 
 blood is not red, but clear and transparent. In others, 
 especially shell-fish, besides the arteries and veins, 
 there are open tubes, which convey the water to the 
 farthest part of them ; probably that they may find 
 no want of water, when they continue some time on 
 shore. 
 
 7. The air-bladder is described as a bag filled with 
 air, sometimes composed of one, sometimes of two, 
 aud sometimes of three divisions, situated towards the 
 back of the fish, and opening into the maw or the 
 gullet. It is commonly supposed, by its swelling at 
 the will of the animal, to increase the surface of the 
 fish's body, and so to enable it to rise to the top of 
 the water, and keep there at pleasure- On the con. 
 trary when the fish wants to descend, it is supposed 
 to empty this bladder of its air, and to sink to the 
 bottom. 
 
 But many fishes have an air bladder, that conti- 
 nually crawl at the bottom ; such as the eel and 
 the flounder : and many more are entirely without it, 
 that swim in every depth ; such as the anchovy and 
 the fresh. water gudgeon. Indeed, the number of 
 fishes that want this organ is alone a sufficient proof 
 that it is not accessary for the purposes of swimming ; 
 and the ventral fins, which in all fishes lie flat upon 
 the water, are fully sufficient to keep them at all depths. 
 
 8. The stomach is, in general, placed next the 
 mouth, and though not sensibly hot, is endued with 
 a surprising faculty of digestion. Its digestive power 
 seems in soui measure to increase with the quantity 
 
of food it is supplied with; a single pike having 
 been known to devour a hundred roaches in three 
 days. Its faculties also are as extraordinary, for it 
 digests not only soft fish, but prawns, crabs and 
 lobsters, shells, and all. These the cod or the stur. 
 geon will not only devour, but dissolve, though their 
 shells are so much harder than the sides of the stomach 
 which contains them. This amazing faculty in the 
 cold stomach of fishes has justly excited the curiosity 
 of philosophers : and has effectually overturned the 
 system of those who suppose the heat of the 
 stomach is alone a sufficient instrument for diges- 
 tion. The truth seems to be, that there is a power 
 of animal assimulation lodged in the stomach of all 
 creatures, which we can neither describe nor define, 
 converting the substances they swallow into a fluid, 
 fitted for their own peculiar support. This is done 
 neither by trituration, nor by warmth, nor by motion, 
 nor by a dissolving fluid; but by some principle yet 
 unknown, which acts in a different manner from all 
 kinds of artificial maceration. 
 
 Yet though fish are thus hungry, and for ever 
 prowling, no animal can suffer the want of food for 
 so long a time. The gold and silver fish which we 
 keep in vases, seem never to want any nourish- 
 ment at all ; whether it be that they feed on the 
 water-insects, too minute lor ur observation, or 
 that water alone is a sufficient supply. Even the 
 pike, the most voracious of fishes, will live in a 
 pond where there is none but himself, and what 
 is more extraordinary, will be often found to thrive 
 there. 
 
 Air however is so necessary to all fish, that they 
 can live but a tew minutes without it : yet nothing is 
 more difficult to be accounted for, than the manner 
 in which thay obtain this necessary supply. Those 
 who have seen a fish in the water, must remember 
 the motion of its lips and its gills, or at least of the 
 bones on each side that cover them. This motion in 
 
262 
 
 the animal is without doubt, analogous to our breath* 
 ing, but it is not air, but water, that the fish actu- 
 ally takes in and throws out through the gills at every 
 motion. 
 
 The manner of its breathing seems to be this. The 
 fish first takis a quantity of water by the mouth, 
 which is driven to the gills, these close and keep the 
 water so swallowed from returning by the mouth, 
 while the bony covering of the gills prevents it from 
 going through them, until the animal has drawn the 
 proper quantity of air from the body of water 
 thus imprisoned : then the bony covers open and 
 give it a free passage ; by which naeans also the 
 gills again are opened, and admit a fresh quantity of 
 water. Should the fish be prevented from the free 
 play of its gills, or should the bony covers be kept 
 from moving, by a string tied round them, the animal 
 would soon fall into convulsions and die in a few mi- 
 nutes, 
 
 9. The chief instruments in a fish's motion are the 
 fins, which in some are much more numerous than in 
 others. A fish completely fitted for sailing is fur- 
 nished with two pair ; also three single fins, two 
 above and one below. Thus equipped it migrates 
 \tith the utmost rapidity, and takes voyages of a 
 thousand leagues in a season. But such fish as have 
 the greatest number of fins have not always the swift* 
 est motion. The shark is one of the swiftest swim- 
 xners, yet it wants the ventral fins ; the haddock does 
 not move so swift, though it has them. 
 
 The tins not only assist the animal in progression, 
 but in rising or sinking, in turning, or even leaping 
 out of the water. To answer these purposes, the pec- 
 toral fins serve like oars, to push the animal forward. 
 They are placed behind the opening of the gills ; 
 they are generally large and strong, and answer the 
 same purposes to the fish as wings do to a bird. 
 Those also balance the fish's head, when it is too 
 
263 
 
 large for the body, and keep it from tumbling prone 
 to the bottom, as is seen in lar^e headed fishes, when 
 the pectoral fins are cut off. Next these are the ven- 
 tral fins, placed under the belly. These are always 
 seen to lie flat on the water, in whatever situation the 
 fish may be ; and they serve rather to raise or depress 
 the fish, than to assist its progressive motion. The 
 dorsal fin is situate along the ridge of the back ; and 
 serves to keep it in equilibrio. in many fishes this is 
 Banting; but in all flat fishes it is very large, as the 
 pectoral fins are proportionably small. Lastly, the 
 tail, which in some fishes is flat, and upright in others, 
 seems the grand instrument of motion ; the fins are 
 subservient toit, and give directions to its impetus, by 
 which the fish darts forward with so much velocity. 
 To explain all this, by experiment, a carp is taken, 
 avd pat into a large vessel* The fish, in a state of 
 repose, spreads all its fins, and seems to rest upon its 
 pectoral and venfral fins near the bottom : if the fish 
 folds up either of its pectoral fins, it inclines to the 
 lame side ; folding the r%ht pectoral fin, the fish in. 
 dines to the right side ; folding the left fi, it in- 
 clines to that side. When the fish desires to have a 
 retrograde motion, striking with the pectoral fins, 
 in a contrary direction produces it. Jf the fish de- 
 sires to turn, a blow from the tail sends it about ; but 
 if the tail strikes both ways, then the motion is pro. 
 gressive. 
 
 10. There is something extremely odd in the expe- 
 riments of an ingenious man, on some of our common 
 fishes, 
 
 " I put a banstickle, says he, in a glass jar filled 
 with water : at first it refused to eat any thing, which 
 is common with ail fishes ; but afterward it grevr 
 so tame as to take small worms out of my hand. 
 Nay, it was so bold at last, that when its belly was 
 full, it Wiiuld set up its prickles, and with all its 
 strength, make a stroke at my fingers, if put them 
 near it. 
 
264 
 
 "This fish was so unsociable, that it would 
 no of her fish to lire in the jar with it, and so auda- 
 cious as to attack whatever I put in, though ten times 
 its own size. One day I put in a small ruif; the ban. 
 stickle instantly assaulted it, and tore off part of its 
 tail, and I am persuaded would have killed it, had I 
 not separated them, 
 
 u The abilities they use to get from place to place, 
 are likewise extraordinary. Though they are scarce 
 two inches long, I have seen them leap out of the 
 water a foot high perpendicularly, and much farther 
 obliquely, when they wanted to get over some obstacle 
 in their way. 
 
 " Nature has furnished them with a kind of breast- 
 plate, to be a defence against outward injury, and 
 with prickles upon their sides and back, which they 
 erect on the least appearance of danger. 
 
 44 I have always observed among the fish I keep 
 in jars, that such as I keep awhile together, con. 
 tract so great an affection for each other, that if they 
 are separated, they grow melancholy and sullen. 
 About Christmas i put two ruffs into a jar, where 
 they lived together till April. I then gave one of 
 them to a friend, the other was so affected, that for 
 three weeks it would eat nothing. Fearing it would 
 pine to death, I sent it to its companion : being put 
 to this, it ate immediately, and presently recovered 
 its former briskness." 
 
 44 In the beginning of September," says the same 
 gentleman, " J procured a small dace, which I kept 
 in a glass jar till the latter end of May following. 
 All this while it ate noticing except the small animal. 
 cules, which happened to be in the water I gave it, 
 once a day in winter, twice or thrice in the spring, 
 as the weather grew warmer. When the water was 
 fresh, it came up to the top about once an hour, to 
 blow out some small bubbles of air. Then putting 
 its nose near the surface, it took in fresh, and retired 
 to the bottom again. But as the water became less 
 
265 
 
 pure by its use, its returns to the surface were more 
 frequent, and at last it would remain there conti- 
 nually, till I gave it a fresh quantity. 1 believe I 
 might have kept it for years, but business one day 
 prevented me from giving it clean water in due time, 
 which put a period to the life of my little compa- 
 nion. 
 
 " At first it would not suffer me to come nigh the 
 glass, without the utmost confusion and surprise ; 
 but at last it grew so tame, that if 1 came but ia 
 sight, it would be sure to be at the same side of the 
 glass, and lie gazing at me, until I was weary of 
 observing it. 1 often took the opportunity of look* 
 ing at it by candle-light, which it seemed to take great 
 pleasure iru 
 
 a In the above-mentioned month, I put into another 
 glags, a ruff about three inches long. At first he too 
 appeared mighty reserved, and would not eat, nor 
 suffer me to come nigh him ; but in a short time all- 
 powerful hunger tamed him : for he could not like the 
 dace, live on the small inhabitants of the water, and 
 so was quickly forced to take whatever I provided 
 for him. In awhile it grew so tame that it would not 
 only eat small worms which 1 threw into the glass,but 
 would take them out of my hands. Nay, it would 
 .even rise out above the water for them ; which is con* 
 trary to the way wherein this kind of fish uses to take 
 its food. At last it would come to my hand, when- 
 ever I put it into the glass, and suffer me to handle 
 it. When I had made all the observations I 
 thought proper, after eight months I gave him his li. 
 berty." 
 
 11. It has long been supposed that all shells, as 
 well as the animals in them, arose wholly from the 
 egg. But it is now found by various experiments, 
 that the shells of snails (and probably of all other 
 animals) are formed of a matter which perspires from 
 their bodies, and then condenses round them. 
 
 VOL* i. N 
 
266 
 
 It is certain all animals perspire and are eucenu 
 passed with an atmosphere which exhales from them. 
 Suaiis have nothing peculiar in this respect, unless 
 that their atmosphere condenses and hardens about 
 them, and forms a visible cover for the body, while 
 that of other animals evaporates. This difference 
 may arise from the different substance perspired ; that 
 from snails being viscous and stony. This is no sup. 
 position, but a matter of fact, proved by numerous 
 experiments. 
 
 But the re- production of the shells of some fish, 
 yea, and of the parts contained therein, is tar more 
 strange and unaccountable, than their first production. 
 This is particularly observed in crabs and lobsters* 
 Lobsters cast their shell yearly, some time after mid- 
 summer. In the room of the old, a new, thin shell is 
 immediately prepared by nature, which in less than 
 eight days, acquires almost the same degree of hard* 
 ness as the other* 
 
 The legs of a lobster consist of five articulations. 
 When any of these legs break, which frequently hap* 
 pens, the fracture is always near the fourth joint, and 
 ivhat they lose is precisely reproduced in some time 
 after : four joints shooting out, the first wheroof has 
 two claws, as before. 
 
 If a leg be broken off purposely at the fourth or 
 fifth joint, it is constantly reproduced : but very 
 rarely, if at the first, second, or third joint. What 
 is still more supprising is, that upon visiting the 
 lobster, which is maimed in these barren articulations, 
 at the end of two or three days, all the other joints 
 are found broken off at the fourth, which he has un- 
 doubtedly donenimself. 
 
 The part re-produced is perfectly like that broke 
 eff, a;<d in a certain time gro^s equal to it. Hence it 
 is, that lobsters have often their two big legs un 
 equal. This shews the smaller leg to be a new one. 
 If a part thus re- produced is broken off, there is a 
 second reproduction. The summer,, which is the 
 
367 
 
 only time when lobsters eat, is the most favour- 
 able time for this. It is then performed in four 
 or five days ; otherwise it takes up eight or nine 
 months. 
 
 The common crab-fish has its abode from twetity to 
 forty fathom water. They herd together in distinct 
 tribes, and have their separate haunts for feeding and 
 breeding, and will not associate with their neigh- 
 bours. This has been tried by marking a crab, car. 
 rying it two or three miles, and leaving it among 
 other crabs. This crab has afterward found its way- 
 home, and been caught in its old abode. 
 
 This creature too can break off its own limbs. If 
 when it is laid on its back, one of the outer joints 
 of a small leg be bruised, he shews uneasiness, by 
 moving it about. Afterward he holds it quite still, 
 in a direct and natural position, without touching any 
 part of the body, or of the other legs with it. Then 
 on a sudden with a gentle crack, the wounded part of 
 the leg drops off. If a hole be pierced in the great 
 leg, the effect will be the same ; and the large limb 
 is thrown off in the same manner, only with greater 
 violence. A mucus then overspreads the wound, 
 which presently stops the bleeding ; and a small leg 
 is by degrees produced, which gradually attains the 
 size of the former. Nature has given this singular 
 power to these creatures, for the preservation of their 
 lives in their frequent quarrels. In these, one crab 
 lays hold of the claw of another, and crushes it in 
 such a manner, that it would bleed to death, had it 
 not the power of giving up the limb., and healing the 
 wound. 
 
 % 
 
 How/ever different in figure the lobster and the 
 crab may seem, their manners are nearly the same. 
 Though without any warmth in their bodies, or even 
 red blood, they are wonderfully voracious. What* 
 ever they seize upon that has life, is sure to perish, 
 though never so well defended : they even dcf our each 
 
 rJ 
 
268 
 
 other; ami, to increase our surprise, they may in 
 some measure, be said to eat themselves, as they 
 change their shell and their stomach every year, and 
 their old stomach is generally the first morsel that 
 serves to glut the new. 
 
 What this animal' differs in from all others, is, 
 that the spinal marrow is in the breast-bone. It is 
 furnished with two long feelers or horns, that issue 
 on each side of the head, to correct the dimness 
 of its sight, and apprize the animal of its danger, 
 or of its prey. Thetail is the grand instrument of 
 motion ; and with this it can raise itself in the water. 
 
 When the young lobsters leave the parent, they 
 seek for refuge in the smallest clefts of rocks, and in 
 crevices at the bottom of the sea. There they grow 
 larger in a few weeks, from the accidental substances 
 which the water washes to their retreats. By this 
 time also they acquire a hard firm shell, which fur- 
 nishes them with both offensive and defensive armour. 
 They then issue from their fortresses, and creep 
 along the bottom, in hopes of meeting with plunder. 
 The spawn of fish, the smaller animals of their own 
 kind, but chiefly the worms that keep at the bottom 
 of the sea, supply them with plenty. They keep in 
 this manner close among the rocks, busily employed 
 In scratching up the sand with their clawr. for worms, 
 or surprising such heedless animals as fall within 
 their grasp : thus they have little to apprehend, ex-' 
 cept from each other, for in them, as among fishes, 
 the large ase the most formidable of all enemies to the 
 small. 
 
 But thebodyof th-e lobster still continuing to increase, 
 the animal soon becomes too large for its habitation. 
 In general ail animals^change their shell once a year; 
 and this is a most painful operation. Their moulting 
 season is generally 'about the beginning of summer; 
 at which time their food is plenty', and their strength 
 and vigour in the highest perfection. But soon all 
 their activity ceases : thry seek some retired situation 
 among the rocks, where they remain -in safety from 
 
269 
 
 the attacks of their various enemies. For some days 
 before their change, the animal discontinues its usual 
 voraciousness ; it is no longer seen harrowing up the 
 sand at the bottom, or fighting with others of its kind, 
 or hunting its prey : it lies torpid and motionless. 
 Just before casting its shell, it throws itself , upon its 
 back, strikes its claws against each other, and every 
 limb seems to tremble; its feelers are agitated, and 
 the whole body is in violent motion. It thon swells 
 itself in an unusual manner, and at last the shell begins 
 to divide at its junctures ; particularly at the junctures 
 of the belly, where like a pair of jumps, it was be- 
 fore but seemingly united. It also seems turned inside 
 out ; and its stomach comes away with its shell. After 
 this it disengages itself of the claws, which burst at 
 the joints ; the animal, with a tremulous motion, cast, 
 ing them off, as a man would kick off a boot that 
 was too big for him. 
 
 Thus this wonderful creature is at liberty ; but so 
 weak that it continues for several hours motionless. 
 Indeed, so violent and painful is the operation, that 
 many of them die under it ; and those which survive, 
 for some time neither take food, nor venture from 
 their retreats. Immediately after this change, they 
 have not only the softness, but the timidity of a 
 worm. Every animal of the deep is then a powerful 
 enemy, which they can neither escape, nor oppose^ 
 and this is the time when the dog-fish, the co;l, and 
 the ray devour them by hundreds. But this state con- 
 tinues for a very short time : in less than two days, the 
 skin that covered its body is grown almost as hard as 
 before. 
 
 When the lobster is completely equipped in its nevr 
 shell, it appears how much it has grown in the space 
 of a very few days. The old shell being ^ compared 
 with those of the new, it is increased above a third in 
 its size ; and, like a- boy-that has outgrown his clothes, 
 it seems wonderful how the deserted shell was able to 
 contain so great an animal as entirely fills up the 
 new. 
 
270 
 
 It may be worth observing, that lobsters use their 
 tails as fins, wherewith they commonly swim back* 
 ward, by jerks or springs, reaching sometimes ten 
 yards at a spring. For this purpose, as the gill.fins 
 of other fishes, which are their oars, are a little con- 
 cave backward, these have the plates of their tails, 
 when they bend them down as they use to do, a little 
 concave for ward. 
 
 Different from all these are the land crabs of the 
 Caribbee islands ; which Jive in a kind of orderly 
 society, within their retreats in the mountains ; and 
 regularly once a year march down to the sea side in a 
 body of some millions. They chuse the months of 
 April and May to begin their expedition : ^and then 
 sally out from the stumps of hollow trees, from the 
 clefts of rocks, and from the holes which they dig for 
 themselves under the surface of the earth. At that 
 time the whole ground is covered with this band of 
 adventurers. The sea is their place of destination, 
 and to that they direct their march. No geometrician 
 could send them to their destined station, by a shorter 
 course. They never turn to the right or left, what- 
 ever obstacles intervene, And evenif they meet with 
 a house, they will attempt to scale the walls, to keep 
 the unbroken tenor of their way. But upon some oe 
 casions they are compelled to conform to the face of 
 the country ; and if it be intersected by rivers, they 
 wind along the course of the stream. They are com. 
 inonly divided into three battalions; of which, the first 
 consists of the strongest and boldest males, that like 
 pioneers, march forward to clear the route, and face 
 the greatest dangers. These are often obliged to halt 
 for want of rain, and wait till the weather changes. The 
 main body of the army is composed of females, which 
 never leave the mountains till the rain is set in, and 
 then descend in regular battalia, in columns of fifty 
 paces broad, and three miles deep, and so close, that 
 they almost cover the ground. Three or lour days 
 after this, the rear-guard follows ; a straggling undis- 
 
271 
 
 ciplined tribe, eonsisting of males and females, but 
 neither so robust, nor so numerous as the former. 
 The night is their chief time of proceeding ; but if it 
 rains by day, they do not fail to profit by the occa- 
 sion. And they continue* to move forward in their 
 slow, uniform manner. When the sun shines hot, 
 they make an universal halt, and wait till the cool of 
 the evening. When they are terrified they march 
 back in a disorderly manner, holding up their nip. 
 pers with which they sometimes tear off a piece of the 
 flesh of an assailant, and leave the weapon where they 
 indicted the wound. They often clatter their nippers 
 together, as if it were to threaten those that come to 
 disturb them. But though they thus strive to be 
 formidable to man, they are much more so to each 
 other ; lor if any of them by accident is maimed 
 in such a manner, as to be incapable of proceeding, 
 the rest fall upon and devour it on the spot, and then 
 pursue their journey. 
 
 When after a fatiguing march, perhaps of three 
 months, they arrive at their destined port, they pre- 
 pare to cast their spawn. The peas are as yet with* 
 in their bodies, and not as is usual in animals of this 
 kind, under the tail. And the creature waits for the 
 benefit of the sea- water, to help the delivery. For 
 this purpose, the crab has no sooner reached the 
 shore, than it eagerly goe* to the edge of the water, 
 and leis the waves wash over its body, two or three 
 times. Then they withdraw to st'ek a lodging upon, 
 land: in the mean time, the spawn grows larger, is 
 excluded out of the body, and sticks to the barbg 
 under the tail. In this state of pregnancy, they 
 once more seek the shore, and shaking off tae bpawa 
 into the water, leave it there. At this time whole 
 shoals of hungry fish are in expectation of this annual 
 supply. The sea to a great distance is black with 
 them ; and about two thirds of the crabs eggs are im- 
 mediately devoured. The eggs that escape are hatched 
 under the sand ; and soon after millions at a time of 
 *4 
 
these little crabs are seen quitting the shore,and slowly 
 travelling up to the mountains. 
 
 The old ones however are not so active to return ; 
 they arc become so feeble, that they can hardly creep 
 along. Most of them therefore, are obliged to con- 
 tinue in the flat parts of the country till they recover, 
 making holes in the earth, which they cover at the 
 mouth with leaves and dirt. There they throw off 
 (heir old shells. At that time they are quite naked, 
 and almost without motion for six days. They have 
 then under their stomachs four large white stones, 
 which gradually decrease in proportion as the shell 
 hardens, and when they come to perfection, are not to 
 be found. It is at that time the animal is seen slowly 
 making its way back, and all this is commonly per- 
 formed in six weeks. 
 
 There is likewise an animal of the lobster.kind that 
 annually descends from its mountains, not only to 
 produce an offspring, but to provide itself a covering ; 
 not only to secure a family, but to furnish a house. I 
 mean the Soldier Crab. It is about four inches long, 
 has no shell behind, but is covered down to th,e tail 
 with a rough skin, terminating in a point. But what 
 nature has denied this animal, it takes care to supply 
 by art ; and taking possession of the deserted shell of 
 some other aniiv.al, it resides in it, till, by growing too 
 large for its habitation, it is under the necessity of a 
 change. It is a native of the West India Islands, 
 and every year descends from the mountains to the sea- 
 shore, to deposit its spawn, and to provide itself with 
 a now shell. Its first care is to provide for its off. 
 spring, and it is thought, from the number of little 
 shells which it is "seen examining, that it deposits its 
 spawn in them, which thtrs'is placed in perfect secu- 
 rity, till the time of exclusion. 
 
 It is then mindful of itself. It is still seen in its 
 old shell, v-hich it has considerably outgrown,: a part 
 of the naked body is seen at the mouth of it, which 
 
273 
 
 tne habitation is too small to Hide. A shell therefore, 
 is to be found large enough to cover the whole body ; 
 and yet not so large as to be unmanageable. To an- 
 swer both these ends is no easy matter, nor the attain,, 
 ment of a slight enquiry. The little soldier is seen 
 "busily parading the shore along that line of pebbles 
 and shells that is formed by the waves ; still, however, 
 dragging its old habitation at his tail ; unwilling to 
 part with one shell, till it can find another more con* 
 vcnient. It is seen stopping at one shell, turning it 
 and passing it by, going on to another, contemplating 
 that for awhile, and then slipping its fail from its old 
 habitation to try on the new. This also is found to- 
 be inconvenient, and it quickly returns to its old shell 
 again. Jn this manner it frequently changes, till at 
 last it finds one, light, roomy, and commodious. 
 To this it adheres, though the shell be sometimes 
 so large as to hide the body of the animal, claws and 
 all. 
 
 Yet it is not till after many trials, and many com- 
 bats also, that the soldier is thus completely equipped. 
 For there is often, a contest between two of them, for 
 some weU-iookTag shell. They both endeavour to 
 take possession : they strike with their claws ; they 
 bite Kich other, till (he weakest is obliged to yield. 
 It is then that the victor takes possession, and pa- 
 ra les in his new conquest three or four times backward 
 a iti forward upon the strand, before his envious anta- 
 gonist. 
 
 Crabs. eyes, so called, are found in the bodies of 
 cray-tibli. Each fish produces two y.-arl), one on 
 each Side of thii stomach, between the coats of it. 
 HereKgroWs, coaj; upon coat, and is supplied with 
 petrifyirjf jmc b. oy vessels opening (Mi the inner ^>r- 
 fact- oi tht- oiHwif (1 coat. The lir^t scale, whcivof 
 all f hip others- ar 5 ^ fotmed, in -y bi perceivnJ i;i the. 
 centr-. ; the b. ims or drcumieretu es of ninsy i;f t';e 
 rest b 'i?s^ hkcvviae apj.'Lirent. Ir ^ n !' red, tha^ 
 cast thvSestones with their :- .; but IMS is 
 
 N 5 
 
ftot the case. For about the time of casting their shell, 
 the stones break through the internal coat of the 
 stomach, and being thrown by the three serrated teeth 
 therein, become dissolved in the space of a few 
 days, which makes it difficult to fiud them just at this 
 time. 
 
 They eat their old shells immediately after shed, 
 ding them. Perhaps these stones may be designed to 
 furnish new petrescent juices to its fluids, for the 
 re-production of their annual dress 
 
 As tw turbinated shell-fish of the snail-kind, \?e 
 may first observe the snail itself. This is surprisingly 
 fitted for the life it is to lead. It has the organs of 
 life in a manner almoit as complete as the largest ani- 
 mal; a tongue, brain, salival ducts, glands* nerves^ 
 stomach, and intestines; liver, hi art, and blood ves- 
 sels : besides this it has a purple bag that furnishes 
 a red matter to different parts of the body, toge- 
 ther with strong muscles, that hold it to the shell, 
 and which are hardened like tendons at their inser. 
 tion. 
 
 But these it possesses in common with other animals. 
 We must now see what it has peculiar to itself. The 
 iirst striking peculiarity is, 4t has got its eyes on the 
 points oi i:s largest horns. Whea the snail is in mo- 
 tion, four horns are tfeen distinctly : but the two lon- 
 gest deserve peculiar consideration, both on account 
 of the various motions with which they are endued 3 
 and of their having eyes at the extreme ends of them. 
 These appear like two blackish points. The animal 
 can direct them to different objects at pleasure, by a 
 regular motion out of the body; and sometimes it 
 hides them by a- very swift contraction in<o the belly. 
 Under th'e small horns is the anim il's mouth ; and 
 though it may appear too soft a substance to be fur. 
 mshed with teeih, yet it has nj less than eight of 
 them, with which it devours leaves ftlid other 5ttbstaii 
 ces seemingly harder* than itself* 
 
275 
 
 It may seem whimsical to make a distinction be- 
 tween the animal perfections of turbinated and bivalve 
 shell. fish, or to grant a degree of superiority to the 
 snail above the oyster. Yet this distinction appa- 
 rently obtains in nature ; and we shall find the bival* 
 ved tribe of animals in every respect inferior to the 
 other. Inferior in all their sensations ; inferior in 
 all their motions ; but prculiarly inferior in their 
 system of animal generation. The snail tribe are 
 hermaphrodite ; but require the assistance of eack 
 other for fecundation ; all the bivalve tribe are 
 hermaphrodite in like manner, but they require no 
 assistance from each other towards impregnation ; and 
 a single muscle or oyster, if th*re were no other in 
 the world, would quickly replenish the ocean. 
 
 The multitude of muscles is in some places very 
 g^eat; but I'roin their defenceless state, the number 
 of their destroyers are in equal proportion. The 
 crab, the cray-fish, and many other animals are seen 
 to devour them j but the tochus is their most for- 
 midable t-nemy When their shells are found de- 
 serted, if we then observe closely, it is most probable 
 we shall find that the tochus has been at work in 
 piercing them. There is scarce one of them with- 
 out a hole in it ; and this probably was the ave 
 nue by which the enemy entered to destroy the in- 
 habitant. 
 
 But notwithstanding the number of this creature's 
 animated enemies, it seems still more fearful of the 
 agitanons of the element in which it resides ; for if 
 dashed against rocks, or thrown far on the beach, it 
 is destroyed without a power of redress. In order to 
 guard against these, which are to this animal the com- 
 monest and the most fatal accidents,, although it has a 
 power of slow motion which I shali presently describe, 
 yet st endeavours to become stationary, ami to attach 
 itself to any fixed object it happens to be near. For 
 this purpose it is furnished with a very singular capa- 
 city of binding i'sclf by a number of threads to what* 
 sver object it approaches 5 And those Reaumur sup* 
 w 5 
 
276: 
 
 poses it spins artificially, as spiders their webs, which 
 they fasten against a wall. Be this as it will, nothing 
 is more certain than that the muscle is found attached 
 by these threads to every fixed object ; sometimes, 
 indeed, for want of such an object, these animals are 
 found united to each other, and though thrown into a 
 lake separately, they are taken out in bunches of 
 many together. 
 
 To have some fix'ed resting place where the muscle 
 can continue, and take in its accidental food,seems the 
 seat that this animal chiefly desires. Its instrument of 
 motion by which it contriTes to reach the object it 
 wants to bind itself to, is that muscular substance re- 
 sembling a tongue, which is found long in proportion 
 to the size of the muscle. This the animal has a power 
 of thrusting out of its shell ; and with this it is capable 
 of making a slit in the sand at the bottom. By means 
 of this furrow it can erect itself upon the edge of its 
 shell : and thus continuing to make the furrow in 
 proportion as it goes forward, it reaches out its tongue, 
 that answers the purposeof an arm, and thus carries its 
 shell edge-ways, as in a groove, until it reaches thti 
 point intended. Then where it determines to take up 
 its residence, it fixes the ends of its beard, which are 
 glutinous, to the rock, or the object whatever it be \ 
 and thus like a ship at anchor, braves all the. agita- 
 tions of the waters. Sometimes the animal is attached 
 by a large number of threads ; sometimes but by 
 three or four, that seem scarce able to retain it. When 
 thi- muscle is fixed in this manner, it lives upon the* 
 little earthy particles that the water transports to its 
 shells, and jurhapsthe flesh of the most diminutive 
 animals. Howeter, it dots not fail to grow consider- 
 ably ; aud some of this kind have been found a foot 
 long I have seen the beards of afoot and a half; 
 and of tins substance the natives of Palermo make 
 gloves and stocking. 
 
 Oysters usually cast their spawn in May, which at 
 first appears like drops of candle-grease ; and stick to 
 
277 
 
 any hard substance they fall upon* These are co- 
 vered with a shell in two or three days, and in three 
 years the animal is large enough to be brought to the 
 market. 
 
 The Scallop is particularly remarkable for its me- 
 thod of moving forward upon land, or swimming upon 
 the water. When it finds itself deserted by the tide, 
 it moves towards the sea in a most singular manner. 
 It first gapes:with its shell as widely as it can, the 
 edges being often an inch asunder ; then it shuts them 
 with a jerk, and by this the whole animal rises five or 
 six inches from the ground. It thus tumbles any how 
 forward, and renews the operation until it has attained 
 its journey's end. When in the water it is capable of 
 supporting itself on the surface ; and there opening 
 and shutting its shells, it tumbles over and over, and 
 makes its way with some celerity. 
 
 The Razor-shell has a very different kind of motion* 
 As the former moves .laboriously forward, so the razor- 
 shell has only a power of sinking downward. The 
 shells of this animal resemble nothing so much as the 
 haft of a razor ; and by this form it is enabled to 
 dive into the soft sand* All its motions are confined 
 to sinking or rising a'footdownwards or upwards inthe 
 sand, for it never leaves the spot where first itwas plant- 
 ed. From time to time it raises about half way out of its 
 hole : but if any way disturbed sinks perpendicularly 
 down again. Just over the place where the razor 
 buries itself, there is a small hole like a chimney, 
 through which the animal breathes or imbibfs the 
 sea -water. Upon the desertion of the tide, these 
 holes are easily distinguished by the fishermen; and 
 their method of enticing the razor up is by sprinkling 
 a little sea-salt upon the hole. This melting, no sooner 
 reaches the razor below, than ii rises instantly, and 
 shews above half its length above the surface. This 
 appearanc. is instantaneous ; and if the fisher dues 
 not seize the opp<jrtunity 3 the raz')r buries itself 
 
278 
 
 to its former depth. Tnere it continues secure; 
 no salt can allure it a second time ; but it remains 
 unmolested unless the fisher will beat the trouble of 
 digging it out, sometimes two ieet below the sur- 
 face. 
 
 Multivalve shell-fish may be considered as aninaals 
 saut up in round boxes. To view their habitti>ns 
 externally, one would be little ap f to consi i -r them 
 as the retreats ot living creatures; and still less, ta 
 suppose that some of them carry thtir boxes with a 
 tolerable share of swiftness, so a-s to escape their 
 pursuers. Of these there are principally two kinds; 
 surh as move, and such as are stationary : the first are 
 usually known in our cabine s by the name of sea-eggs; 
 the others are often admired for the cavities which 
 they scoop out for their habitation in the hardest mar- 
 ble. The first are called, by naturalists, Ecnini, or 
 urchins : the latter are called Pholades., or filetish, 
 Of both these are several sorts ; but by describing 
 these two, we shall have a competent idea of all the 
 rest. 
 
 To a slight view, the Sea-urchin may be compared 
 to tn- husk of a chesnut ; being like it, round and 
 Mfith a number of bony prickles standing out on every 
 side, if we could conceive a turnip stuck full of pins 
 on eveiy side, and running upon these pins with some 
 degree o! swiftness, we should have some idea of this 
 fx.raordiuary creature. The mouth is placed down* 
 waras ; the vent is above ; the shell is a hollow vase, 
 rese bltug a scooped apple; and this tilled with a 
 soft muscular substance, through which the intestines 
 \vind Irom th bottom to the top. The mouth, 
 which is placed undermost, is large and red, furnished 
 witii fi it Bnarp teetn. which are >asi1y discerned* 
 The jaws aie strengthened by fine small bones, in the 
 centre of winch is a small tieshy tongue ; and from 
 this the intestines make a winding o five spires, round 
 the internal sides of the shell) ending at the toj> r 
 
279 
 
 where the excrements are excluded. But what makes 
 the most extraordinary part of this animal's confirma- 
 tion, are its horns, and its spines, that point from 
 every part of the body, like the h.>rns of a snail, and 
 that serve at once a:> le^s to move upon, as arms to 
 feel with, and as instruments of capture anvl defence* 
 Between their horns it has also spines that are not en- 
 dued with sucti a share of motion. The spines and 
 the horns issue from every part of ,the bocty, the 
 spines being hard and prickly, the horns being softer, 
 longer than the spines, and never seen except in the 
 water. They are put forward and withdrawn like 
 the horns of a snail, and are hid at the base of the 
 spine, serving as was saM before, for procuring food 
 and motion. All thts apparatus, howevc-r, is only 
 seen when the animal is hunting his pr y at the bot- 
 tom of the wafer ; for a few minutes after it is taken, 
 all the horns are withdrawn into the body, and most 
 of the spines drop off. 
 
 It is generally said of insects, that those which 
 have the greatest nun.ber of legs, always move the 
 slowest; but this anunal seems to be an exception to the 
 rule ; for though furnished with two thousand spines, 
 and twelve hundred horns, all serving for legs, and 
 which from their number seem to impede each other's 
 motion, ^et it runs with some shari: of swiftness at 
 the bottom, and it is same times no easy master to 
 overtake it. 
 
 Very different in motion, though not much different 
 in shape from them, are the Acorn Shell-fish, the 
 Thumb.footfd Shell, fish, and the Imaginary Barnacle* 
 Tiiese are fixed to one spot, and appear to "vegetate 
 from a stalk, indeed, to an inattentive spectator, 
 each actually seems to be a kind of fungus that grows 
 in the deep, destitute of animal life, as well as motion, 
 But the enquirer will soon change his opinion, when 
 he comes to observe this mushroom. like figure more 
 minutely. He will then see that the animal residing 
 -within the shell, has not only life, but some degree of 
 
280 
 
 voraciousness ; that it has a cover, by \vliich it opens 
 and shuts its shell at pleasure ; that it has twelve 
 large crooked arms, furnished with air, which it thrusts 
 forth for its prey ; and eight smaller, which are ge* 
 nerally kept in the shell. They are seen adhering 
 to every substance that is to be met with in the 
 ocean ; rocks, roots of trees, ships bottoms, whales, 
 lobsters, and even crabs ; like bunches <;f grapes 
 clung to each other. It is amusing enough to be- 
 hold their operations. They for some time remain 
 motionless within their shell; but when the sea is 
 calm, they are seen opening the Jid, and peeping 
 about them. They then thrust out their long neck, 
 look round (hem lor some time, and then abruptly 
 retreat back into their box, shut the lid, and lurk ia 
 darkness and security. 
 
 + 
 
 Among the shell-fish on the Waterford coast, is 
 the Murex, which gave the Tyrian purple. It is in. 
 great plenty there, and is by the English called a 
 horse-winkle. The shell is about an inch long, 
 and half an inch broad, and turns spirally like a snail- 
 shell. Each fish has a peculiar reservoir, which 
 contains a large drop of liquor : if this is pressed out 
 on liuen, the linen first appears of a dirty yell AV, in- 
 clining to green, afterward it changes to a lemon co- 
 lour, then to a deep green ; then it turns to a deep 
 bliie, and at last to a charming purple. 
 
 The shells of the ancient purple-fish, are still com. 
 mon on the Tyrian shore. Tne fisa itself is found 
 in great abundance in the seas of the Spanish West- 
 Indies, near Pan a on a and Niccya, exactly agreeing 
 M'irh Pliny's account of the ancient Murex. Cl'-ih of 
 Segovia, died with this purple*, is sold for twenty 
 crowns an eli, and is very rarely Worn by any, but 
 the greatest noblemen in Spain. The Qanbbee islands 
 h ivr ai^o tb< .same soft of fish, which we may likewise 
 find nearer home, namely on the coasts of . Somerset- 
 shire, as well us of South- Wales. 
 
281 
 
 The pearl muscles lie partly open : the inside of the 
 shell is of a pearly colour. The pearl lies in the smaller 
 end of it, at the extremity of the gut, and out of the 
 body of the fish, between the two films that line the 
 shell. This answers to the stone in other animals, 
 increasing by crusts growing over one another. Ac- 
 cordingly if a pearl be pinched in a vice, the upper 
 coat will crack and leap away. And as it is 
 now known, that the shells of fishes are formed -of 
 stony matter oozing out of their body, it is no won- 
 der if that matter when it chances to overflow, bursts 
 forth in any cavity of the body, and forms a little 
 mass, which hardening, becomes a pearl of the same 
 colour with the shell. 
 
 Whereas all other animals take in nutriment by 
 the mouth, the muscle takes it in by the anus. The 
 part called the head though without eyes, ears, or 
 tongue, is immovably fastened to one of the shells, 
 so that it cannot receive any thing. The food of a 
 muscle is water, which as the shell opens, enters in 
 at the anus, and passing on by certain canate running 
 between the shell and the animal., is thence conveyed 
 into the mouth. 
 
 We have lately discovered a progressive motion in 
 those shelUfish, which were supposed to be quite 
 fixed. Even oysters, which one would think wholly 
 i IB movable, if they are thrown irregularly into a vessel 
 of water, will in a while twrn themselves till the 
 smooth shell becomes uppermost: otherwise they 
 could hold no water in the concave shell for their 
 sustenance. 
 
 Muscles can walk on the ground, which they do in 
 this manner. Lying on the flat side of their shell, 
 they thrust out a part, inform of a tongue, wherewith 
 they make little motions to the right a<id left, and 
 thereby dig a passage in the sand. In this digging 
 they drop gradually on one side, and so get the bhell 
 mounted on i*s edge ; then they stretch out the tongue 
 as far as they caii ; and rest for a minute or two en. 
 
282 
 
 its extremity to draw the shell after them, as water- 
 snails do. This motion is repeated as long as they 
 please : thus they form a sort of groove in the sand, 
 which sustains the shell on either side, and leaves 
 behind them a sort of irregular tract, three or four 
 yards long. In rivers abounding with muscles one 
 iray see many of them, with a muscle at the end of 
 each. 
 
 That called the arm or a leg in a sea-muscle, which 
 in its natural state is not above two lines long, may 
 reach out of the shell two inches: and the muscle 
 having laid hold o\\ a fixed point, therewith, bends 
 and shortens it and so dra^s itself on. The beard 
 Serves for an anchor to fasten it to some heavy body, 
 that it may not be carried away with the motion of 
 the waves. 
 
 When a pond muscle walks, it thrusfs out its 
 whole belly, inform of the keel of a ship, and creeps 
 on the belly as the serpent does. So true it is, that 
 nature is not confined in her manner of operation, 
 but is every varying, though never confused. 
 
 In Port-Mahon harbour, there are stones from 
 Iralf a hundred to five hundred weight eacn, lying 
 at all depths, full of shells, each containing a single 
 fish of the muscK'-kmd. The holes i- the surface 
 are far narrower tnan the hole in *vhich is the fish, 
 which it seems is capable of enlarging its room as it 
 growft bigger, by abraiding the s zes ol its ceils. And 
 this is .tppireut, from the sandy matter found in 
 the bottom of those cells, whenever the orifice is 
 higher than the bottom ; for then the fish cannot 
 throw it out. 
 
 The Bollani likewise in the Adriatic sea, live in 
 large stotirg. Tneir Shell is rough and obi >ng, not un- 
 like a da.e. Tney are found in several kinds uf por- 
 ous atones, in the pores of these the spawn is de- 
 posited. Fr-.q'iently the aperture, through whic'i it 
 was injected, is nolonger perceivable; but the fish thrives 
 
283 
 
 notwithstanding. On breaking some of these &tones $ 
 one finds neaV thirty live fish, though no opening can 
 be perceived on the outside. Each has just room to 
 open its shell, the inside of which is white, the out- 
 side ash-colour ; the largest is four or five inches long. 
 Both (he fish itself and its juices are so luminous, 
 one may see to read by it ; and even water in which it 
 has been squeezed, put into a glass, will shine tea or 
 twelve hours. 
 
 Likewise in Toulon harbour are found solid stones 
 containing in separate cells, secluded from all commu- 
 nication with the air, several living shtll.fish. The 
 same are found along the coast of Alcona, in stones 
 weighing fifty pounds and upwards. The outside of 
 which is soft, but the inside so hard as to require an 
 iron mall, and a strong arm to break them. 
 
 Pholades Bollani, when divested of their shells, 
 resemble a roundish, soft pudding. ^ith no instrument 
 that seetns in the least fitied foi boring into stones, 
 or even penetrating the soiu st substance. A pholas 
 is furnished with two teeth indeed ; but these are pla. 
 ced in such a situation as to bv incapable of touching 
 the hollow surface of its stony dwelling. It has also 
 two covers to its shell that oj en and shut at either 
 end ; but these a*e totally unserviceable to it as 
 a miner. The instrument with which it performs all 
 its operations, and buries itself in the hardest rocks, 
 is only a broad ftesi<y substance, somewhat resembling 
 a tongue, that is seen issuing from the bottom of its 
 shell. With this soft yielding instrument, it perfo- 
 rates the most solid marbles ; and having, while little 
 and young, made its way, by a very narrow passage 
 into the substance of the stone, it then begins to grow 
 bigger, and thus to enlarge its apartment. While 
 yet naked and very small, it has effected an entrance, 
 and has buried its body in the stone : it there conti- 
 nues for life at its ease ; the sea-water that enters at 
 its apertures supplying it with luxurious plenty. When 
 
284 
 
 the animal has taken too great a quantity of water, it 
 is seen to spurt it out of its hole with some violence. 
 Upon this seemingly thin diet, it quickly grows larger, 
 and soon finds itself under a necessity of enlarging its 
 habitation and its shell. The motion of the pholas is 
 slow beyond conception ; its progress keeps pace with 
 the growth of its body ; and in proportion as itgrows 
 larger, it makes its way farther into the rock. When 
 it has got a certain way in, it then turns from a cer- 
 tain direction, and hollows downward; till at last 
 when its habitation is completed, the whole apart, 
 mcnt resembles the bowl of a tobacco-pipe: the 
 hole is the shank, being that by -which the animal 
 entered. 
 
 Thus immured, the pholas lives in darkness, indo- 
 lence, and plenty : it never removes from, the narrow 
 mansion into which it has penetrated ; and seems 
 perfectly content with being enclosed in its* own 
 sepulchre. The influx of the sea-water, that enters 
 by its little gallery, satisfies all its wants ; and with- 
 out any other food, it is found to grow from seven 
 to eight inches long, and thiek in proportion. 
 
 Yet the pholas thus shut up is not so solitary an 
 animal as it would at first appear ; for though it is 
 immured in its hole without egress ; though it is im- 
 possible for the animal, grown to a great size, to get 
 out by the way it made in, yet many of this kind meet 
 in the heart of the rock, and like miners in a siege, 
 who sometimes cross each others galleries, they fre- 
 quently break in upon each others retreats : whether 
 their thus meeting be the x work of accident or of 
 choice, few can take upon them to determine ; cer- 
 tain it is they are most commonly found in numbers 
 in the same rock; and sometimes above twenty are 
 discovered within a few inches of each other. 
 
 As to the nest, this animal is found in greatest num- 
 ber at Ancona in Italy; it is found along the shores- 
 of .Normandy andPoitou, in France ; it is found also* 
 upon same of the coasts* of Scotland, aud in ge 
 
285 
 
 tieral is considered as a very great delicacy at the fa- 
 bles of the luxurious. 
 
 One of the most extraordinary kinds of shell.fish is 
 the Animal-flower, in Barbadoes. In the parish of 
 St. Lucy, on the north-side of the island, there is a 
 high rocky cliff fronting the sea, near the bottom of 
 which is a large cave. This opens into another cave, 
 the bottom of which is a bason of water. In the 
 midst of this bason is a rock, always covered with 
 water : on the sides of which, a few inches below 
 the water, are seen at all times of the year, issuing out 
 of little holes, what have the appearance of finely ra- 
 diated flowers, in size, colour and shape greatly re- 
 sembling a common marygold. 
 
 If you attempt to pluck one of these, as soon as 
 your fingers come within two or three inches of it, 
 it contracts, closes up its border, and shrinks back in- 
 to the hole of the rock. But if left undisturbed for a 
 few minutes, it issues again and soon appears in full 
 bloom. This might induce one to believe, that it was 
 no other than an aquatic sensitive plant. 
 
 But on a nearer inspection we may discern four 
 dark-coloured filaments, rising from the centre, 
 moving with a quick and spontaneous motion, and 
 frequently closing, to seize its prey, much like the 
 claws of a lobster. So that the seeming flower is 
 really an animal ; and its body, which appeared to 
 be the stalk of the flower is black, about as big as a 
 raven's quill. 
 
 It seems the vivid yellow colour of its feelers, is ab- 
 solutely necessary to procure its food. The water in 
 the cave having no motion, cannot bring any food 
 to them. Therefore the Creator has endued this crea- 
 turewitha qualitywhich may allure its prey. For bright 
 colours invite many aquatic animals, as the flame 
 of a candle does' flies. 
 
 END OF VOL. I, 
 
T-OCKED 
 CASE 
 
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