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respondent Mr. Lofft, on the impolicy of prohibiting small-pox inoculation, which I think may have a tendency to justify an injurious practice, without any intention in the writer to depreciate the benefits of vaccination. In matters of opinion, a man, conscientiously following the dictates of his own judgment, cannot with propriety he blamed, or become a subject for punishment; unless his opinions (at variance with the general sense of public good) should be brought into dangerous activity. Suci, appears to be the question at issue. That no law ought to force persens to be inoculated, is readily admitted; because parental affection may be supposed paramount to all other obHigations. But if security against a most loathsome and dangerous disease can be procured without hazard of infection, I see no hardship in obliging the practitioner to confine himself to the innoxious communication; if he be ailowed the test of variolous inoculation, should circumstances call for it afterwards. It has long been resolved in the town where I reside, to discontinue small-pox inoculation, (except gratuitously after vaccination, as evidence of security,) and of course I have resisted many applications for that purpose. In one casc, wiere uncommon pains were taken to persuade the parent without success, the child was carried to Norwich, inoculated with small-pox, and died. This melancholy event in my remembrance, with numerous instances of deaths from infection, &c. I think I should deserve to be branded with any opprobrium, if I continued a practice at all times hazardous, and sometimes fatal; when a discovery, one of the greatest in our own times, has enabled us to obtain an antidote, without the smallest risque of either the health, or the life of the patient. If medical men, who by their office and employment inay be considered as the guardians of the general health, steadily agree in opposing the unreasonable importunities of their patients, we should have no occasion for any restrictive law; but as that universal adoption can hardly be expected without some public act, I should urge the propriety of such a measure upon every principle of humanity and good policy. Salus populi supremia lez. W. CRow Foot. Beccles, Suffolk, May 10, 1814.

-oFor the Monthly Magazine. The NAT 1 on AL DEBT J LLusi RATED. UESTION 1.-Assuming the unredemo national debt at 700 mil

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lions of pounds sterling for the sake of a round number, how much would it weight in one pound Bank of England notes, at 512 to the pound Answer.—61 tons, 17 hundred weight, 2 quarters, and 10 pounds. Q. 2.-If the whole were one pound Bank of England notes, how large a space would they cover if pasted, or laid as close to each other as possible A.—45164 square miles. Q. 3.-If the whole were guineas, (each one inch in breadth) and laid in a line close to each other, what would be the extent * A.—10,521 miles, 558 yards, 1 foot, 6 inches. Q. 4.—If the whole were in shillings (each being one inch) how far would they extend in length A.—290,959 miles, 1048 yards, 2 fect, 8 inches, which is equal to eight times round the earth, 20,655 miles, 1048 yards, 2 feet, 8 inches over, or nearly nine times the circumference of the globe. i. .B. The earth's circumference is 25,033 nilies. Q. 5.-If the whole debt were in penny pieces of the thickest sort (each being 1 inch, 1-57th of a hundred part diameter) and laid in like manner in a line, what would be the extent * A.—4,162,878 miles, 1386 2-5ths yards; or, in other words it would extend 17 times the distance between the earth and moon, and go twice round the earth, and five times round the moon besides ' ' N.B. Moon's distance, 240,000 miles. Q. 6.--What would the whole weight amount to in gold also in silver and copper ? A.—14,981,273 1-3 pounds in gold; $25,806,451 2.3ds pounds in silver, troy weight; and 4,637,500 tons in copper (penny pieces, 16 to a pound), avoirdupoise. Q. 7.-How many soldiers’ knapsacks would they load, allowing 40 pounds to each man A.—374,531, if in gold; 5,645,462, if in silver ; and 262,500,000, in copper. Q. 8.-How far would they extend in marching at three yards distance from each other A.—If carrying gold, 638 miles, 716 yards; if silver, 9628 miles, 227 yards; if copper, 446,443 miles, .419 yards; or nearly 10; times round the globe. Q. 9.—How many carts would they load, allowing 2000 pounds weight to each * : - 4,-7491

A.—7491 with gold; the last cart carries only 1273 pounds; 112,904 with silver; the last carries only 451 pounds; and 5,250,000 with copper. Q. 10.-How far would these carts extend, allowing 20 yards to each? A.—Those carrying gold would extend 90 miles, 1420 yards; if carrying silver, 1283 miles; if copper, 59,602 iniles, 480 yards—equal to twice round the globe, and 9526 miles, 480 yards over. Q. 11.-How many ships would this debt load at 500 tons of copper each 2 A.—It would load 9375 vessels. The tonnage of commercial vessels and the navy of Britain, is estimated at about 2,360,000 tons; hence this quantity of sopper would load the whole Twice and upwards. Q. 12.-IIow long time would it require to count this sum, at the rate of 100 per minute, allowing 12 hours each day, (Sundays included) in guineas, shillings, and penny picces? A –In guineas it would require 27 years, 6 months, 2 weeks, 5 days, 6 hours, 64 minutes, to count it over; in shillings, 578 years, 8 months, 2 wed:s, 3 days, 6 hours, 193 minutes ; in Penny pieces, 6944 years, 7 months, 2 weeks, 2 days, 4 hours. So that if the work had been begun at the creation of the world, and continued to the present time, it would still be 1132 years short of its completion | Q. 13.--What is the amount of the interest of this debt at 34 per cent, and what is the proportion to each indiyidual in Britain, the population to be stated at 12 millions of persons f A.—Interest 24,500,000l. per annurn. —Individual proportion 21. Q3. 10d. Q. 14.—Assuming the families of Great Britain at 2 millions, of six souls earh, how much is the proportion of debt to each family A —350l. -zo- For the Monthly Magazine. sketches in a Tour from BR 1stot to the valley of Rocks, during the Month of August, 1813; in a series of LETTERS; by RoPERT WILLIAAis. LETTER I. Bristol, August 1, 1813. My dear Friend, E set off to-morrow for the west. - . I have not forgotten my promise when I left London: I fear however that my scrolls will tire you. If you had reflected, I do not think you could have desired that, as soon as my pecuniary transactions in Bristol were finished, and I Lé

gan to get rid of care, I should devote
every night or evening to writing to you.
I am quite sensible of the friendship
which you evince for me by such request;
and am also aware that news from the
country to a M. P. who is compelled by
his mercantile transactions to reside du-
ring the recess of Parliament in London,
are always highly acceptable: but really
you must not expcct this kind of plodding.
A diurnal letter upon
'hat’s o'clock, or how's the wind,
Whose coach is that we left behind;
cannot, even if written from the Lakes
or the Glacieres of Switzerland, be super-
latively inviting : forgive me, therefore,
if I give up, at any rate, such formality;
and unless we pass through a very extra-
ordinary and uncommon country indeed,
I dare say I shall glean here and there a
scrap or two of amusement for you; and
if I do not it must be of course my own
fault. At least so Sterne says, and for
such fault you will please to let your pity
and compassion be exerted; for I ain
willing to anticipate the worst, and pre-
pare you accordingly.
I have just returned from a stroll over
and about this al.cient city, and can as-
sure you that I nave felt highly gratised
by the improvoidents which have been
made during the last twenty years :--
streets opened—decayed houses pulled
down-extensive docks—a floating river
—-iron bridges—beautiful crescents and
meat squares; I speak of Bristol, Clifton,
and the Hotwcłls, as a whole. I am io-
clined to think, notwithstanding, that
Bristol has by no means increased in sa-
lubrity by the damming of the river. The
public here have very much complained,
not I believe without reason; but it too
often happeas that popular clamour is
erroneou%; and the powers that are, I
b iieve, generally make it a point never
to liste in to it; and so the poor Bristo-
lians must be content to see the stagnant
water for the sake of the grandeur of the
undertaking—the utility to the shipping
interest, and I know not what advaň- .
tages becides, just peeping over the dis-
tant hitis of hope.
The cathedral I have visited ; the mo-
nument to Sterng's Elza is a striking ob-
ject, as you enter it, to the right. That
to the methory of Mrs. Miason attracted
the of course; the inscription on it l have
often read, and I believe to the who has
read it can avoid feeling tire force of the
poetic images which it contains, it .4
truly worthy of the adthor of Carat.: a*a*.
The College-green is the ot; y : , ; ; , ,
Bristol which has displa:ed ific; to elow
* to :

492 years ago it was an elegant promenade for the fashionables of Bristol, attd an occasional notice reminded you not to walk on the turf; but now not a blade of grass is to be seen, and the whole green is used merely as a rendezvous for soldiers, whom you sec lounging here all the day through. How this can be denominated an improvement must be left to our war-merchants to determine: to me, who remember it in better and more peaceful days, it exhibits a change both disgusting and painful. My dear friend, I have walked, on a summer evening, around the College-green of Bristol, and inhaled the fragrance from the blossoms of the lime-trees, when not a soldier was to be seen—when scarcely any thing occurred to disturb the ardour of youth, but the flitting form of some fair belle, whose charms were displayed to no advantage for him but to agonise his imagination and wound his peace: such dreams are past, and the discordant drum loudly awakens me from the reveries I have also seen Redcliff Church; and oh, what ideas rushed upon my mind at the remembrance of the unfortunate (Shatterton –There has been latterly, I understand, an attempt to raise a subscription for a monument to his memory, but I have not heard with what success. The at. tempt is at all events honourable to his native city, and I hope to find the next time I visit it that those efforts have not been unavailing. Now what kind of inscription or epitaph ought such a monument to have 2–Would it be prudent or just to omit the circumstance of the suicide altogether —I think not ; if when a person is dead nothing is to be said of him but the bona, I am very much afraid that the suppression of the cera tends to destroy character entirely, and to amalgamate the good and the bad into one Inass, where distinctions cease to be apparent: and of course the possibility of profiting by the errors of others, how great or eminent soever they may be, is in a great measure precluded. I have sketched an inscription, according to my views, for such a monument, and send it you here with. Oblige me in your next y giving me your opinion of it. If towering Genius—Eloquence be thine, Who seek'st to know for whom is rear'd the shrine ; If in thy bosom Nature's purest glow Kindle with kindness at the sight of woe ; If Virtue, bending o'er an honour’d son, ldrop the big tear and mourn her hopes undone ; Here pause a rooment o'er a saddening tale, And of Earth's sons a brilliant boy Lewail.

Redcliff Church—Bristol.

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Behold, midst words unceuth and “auncyante rhyme,” How seem the present as the works of time! When sighs his Bertha,how the “Mynstrelles Songe,” In warbling sorrow.wild is borne along; Lives there even one who feels not deepest woe, “ oute” Sir Bawdin’s “bloude beginnes to flowe ?” His harp all magic—music's self the strings, With living truths he swells, or wildly flings Some pleasant “roundelaie” to soothe the soul. Fame the sweet sounds re-echoes, and her scroll Waves, * as banners spreads the circling Sky ; Where, ** with glory never more to die, Whilst Genius smiles to hear the trump of Fame, Glows of her CHATTER T on the emblazon’d name ! Bristol, you know, has done her part towards filling the temple of Fame with British worthies. Thistlethwaite, a contemporary with Chatterton, distinguished himself as a political writer in the estly part of the American war. Edward Colston, the philanthropist, was also born here, and a charity-school, upon a large scale, is still supported by his bequeathed munificence. Robert Lovell, a poet, who dropt prematurely to the grave, has left sufficient indications of his ability behind him to make us regret his loss. You may remember his sonnet in the Anthology, written at Stone-Henge, beginning,


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To the Editor of the Monthly Magazine.

sIR, T a moment when the public attention is so much attracted to the royal house of France, the following brief and authentic account of that family may be not unwelcome to many readers. Lewis XVIII. so unexpectedly called to the regal throne of France, may be reckoned the 34th prince of his family, which is of great antiquity. Upon the death of Louis V. the last of the race of Charlemagne, in 987, the nobles of France chose Hugh Capet, Count of Paris, and a grandson of Robert king of France, who died in 923. The succession to the throne was continued, by regular descent, through thirteen soveregns, and ended in Charles IV, surhamed the Fair, who died in 1328. Of these princes, Louis VII. or the Young, who passed over to England as heir to the crown, in consequence of the disortlers in the time of King John, laid the foundation of the claim of the kings of France to the sovereignty of England. He died in 1180. Louis IX. commonly styled Saint Louis, who became king in 1226, is celebrated for his zeal and exertions in the crusades. Upon the decease of Charles IV. in 328, without heirs male, (and females were incapable, by the Salic law, of succeeding to the crown) the sovereignty was transferred, in right of blood, to Philip VI, the grandson of Philip III, by Charles, who was named Valois. Philip VI. was succeeded in 1350 by John, who was inade a prisoner, in the renown. ed battle of Poitiers, by our Black Prince, and brought to London. The house of Valois terminated with Henry III. assassinated at St. Cloud by a fanatic monk in 1589; being the thirteenth prince of his family. . Upon the death of Henry III. the crown of France was claimed by Henry IV. king of Navarre; and the first sovereign of the branch of Bourbon. This branch proceeded from the house of VaHois, by Robert, a son of St. Louis, who married Beatrix, the daughter of John ll. duke of Burgundy, and heiress of Agnes of Bourbon. Robert died in 1317, leaving a son, Louis I. duke of Bourbon, in whose favour, for signal services performed to the King Charles IV. that lordship was erected into a duchy in 1327. His son James of Bourbon, Count of La Marche, was wounded in the battle of Cressy, and fell into the hands of the English with John of France at Poitiers. t Charles I. of Bourbon, was by Francis $olonthly Mag, No. 256,

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T. of France, created Duke of Vendome. On the death of the too famous Constable of Bourbon, who had gone over to the party of the Emperor Charles V. the Duke of Vendome became chief of the branch of Bourbon, and first prince of the blood royal. By Jane of Albret, daughter of the King of Navarre and Prince of Béarn, he left a son Antony who succeeded to his mother's dominions. Being appointed lieutenant-general of the kingdom of France, on the death of Francis II, the husband of the murdered Mary Queen of Scotland, in 1560, Antony of Navarre commanded the royal army employed against the protestants, who had chosen for their chief his own brother the Prince of Condé. Dying in the siege of Rouen in 1562, Antony left a successor, Henry king of Navarre, afterwards the justly celebrated Henry IV, of France, who married first Margaret of Valois, daughter of Henry II, but this union being declared null and void, he next married Mary of Medicis, daughter of Francis, grand duke of Tuscany. Being cducated by his mother in the protestant religion, IHenry of Navarre was opposed in his succession to the throne by the Popish party in France, by far the most powerful. Finding it inossible to obtain his birth-right while i. continued a calvinist, Henry, by the advice of his ablest counsellors, although theuselves of the same religious opinions, conformed to the Roman professign; but by the celebrated edict published at Nantes, in Britanny, he secured to the protestants the full and free enjoyment and exercise, as citizens of France, of all their rights and privileges, religious and civil. Distinguished alike by gallantry and conduct in the field, and by bencvolence in private, his project and endeavours to procure and establish a system of universal peace in the great christian conmonwealth of Europe, deservedly entitled him to the endearing appellation Ły which he was known in France, le boo. Henry Quatre. His success in arms however, the tranquillity he obtained and maintained at home, nor his in any private and useful virtues, could secure Henry from the dagger of the assassin, He fell in his carriage in the centre of Paris by the hand of Ravaillac, at the age of 57, in the year 1610, leaving his dominions to his son Louis XIII, then only 9 years of age. This Prince, who, on account of his pious and equitable dispositions, was & S surnamed with Spain lasted twenty-five years; and by the pacification, the provinces of Roussilion, in the south, and Artois, in the north, were added to the doininions of France.

494 Mr. Dougal on the Bourbon Family. [July l;

surnamed the just, married Anne of in his dying counsels to his family, conAustria, daughter of Philip III. of Spain, fessed qu'il avoit trop aimé la guerre : His reign was almost one continued —that he had been but too much addicted course of warfare, at first within his to war;-a confession and a conviction kingdom, from the illegal and oppressive equally unavailing with respect to him. measures of his ministers, especially of self, as disregarded by his successor in the Cardinal de Richelieu, against the the throne. It is not a little remarkprotestants; and afterwards abroad, able, that Louis XIV. (than whom, from with Spain and Savoy. Rochelle, the political situation and connections, as bulwark of the protestants, was compel- well as from personal dispositions and led in 1628 to surrender, after a very me-Shabits, no prince could possibly be a morable siege and blockade, during more determined supporter of the aswhich an ineffectual and inexplicable at sumed, as well as the legal dignity of tempt was made on the part of England kings,) was among the first of the soveto carry relief to the garrison. The war reigns of Europe to treat with Cromwell;

and he even wore mouning at his death.

Louis XIV. died on the 1st of September, 1715, after a reign of no less than seventy-two years, of which sixtyone had elapsed after he beeame his

Dying in 1643, Louis was succeeded own, master; and the crown descended by his eldest son the celebrated Louis to his great grandson, Louis XV. then a XIV. then only four years and a half old, boy of five years and a half. the queen mother being appointed regent. The eldest son of Louis XIV. Louis He was crowned in 1654, and married the dauphin, died in 1711, leaving three Mary Theresa, eldest daughter of Philip sons. The eldest of these, Louis, Duke IV. of Spain, agreeably to an article of of Burgundy, died in 1712, and was sucthe famous treaty of the Pyrennees. The ceeded in the title of Dauphin, belonging

long reign of this prince was distinguished by so many important and splendid establishments, for the encouragement of the arts, of literature, and of coinmerce, by successes so brilliant and reverses so humiliating, as in some ineasure to justify Voltaire in designating the age in which he flourished as the siècle de Louis Quatorze. Towards the close of His reign, when infirinities and failures inclined him to austerity and superstition, Louis was induced, by impolitic and illiberal courtiers, to annul all the wise and equitable stipulations of his grandfather in favour of his protestant subjects. To this measure, the revocation of the edict of Nantes already mentioned, most of the other 'tates of Europe were indebted for colonies of industrious, ingenicus, and worthy French protestants. A. party, accustomed to the fine linen thanufacture, transplanted themselves even as far as to Edinburgh, where they settled a suburb, to which they gave the name of their native province, I’ical dy, now absorbed and lost in the rapidly increasing augmentations of our northern capital. That the serious, and in some respects the irreparable injury sustained by the manufactures and commerce of France, from the ex‘patriation of so many of the most useful and valuable citizens, excited any compunction in the breast of Louis, we are is at told; he is, however, known to have,

to the presumptive heir of the crown, by his youngest son the Duke of Anjou, then two years old, who afterwards became Louis XV. of France. The second grandson of Louis XIV Philip, also Duke of Anjou, claimed the crown of Spain in 1700, upon the death of Charles II. without heirs, in right of his grand-mother, a sister of Charles, who appointed him to succeed, in preserence to his elder brother, heir apparent of the crown of France; in order that both kingdoms should never be under one and the same sovereign. The claim of the French prince was vigor. rously but unsuccessfully opposed by the Archduke Charles of Austria, as the nearest male heir of the deceascd Charles of Spain, in whom expired the branch of the house of Austria, established in that country, from othe time of the Emperor Charles V. The contest h; tween these claimants is commonly styled the war of the succession, in which our Queen Anne, as might be supposed, powerfully resisted the pretensions of the house of Bourbon. Philip of Anjou became the fifth king of Spain of that name, and was the father of Charles III. who, dying in the beginning of 1789, was succeeded by: Charles IV. whose resignation in favour of his son Ferdinand VII. was the commencoment of the troubles under which Spain has groaned for these several years: Past, and in fomenting which the qua

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