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the lines of Euclid. Combining with this accuracy of outline the subordinate talent of an engraver, his pictures possess the utmost spirit and freedom, and his knowledge in natural history perfected the conception of, and gave character to, his designs. His genius strongly inclined to the humorous, and he frequently vented his satire, and sometimes his resentment, on particular persons, in his tail-pieces. Once a man cheated him out of a cart of coals, and to punish and expose the fellow, Mr. Bewick sketched his likeness, and made the devil drive him pictorially to the gallows in his own coal-cart. The cut is in page forty-five of his British Birds. Many of the tail-pieces have particular allusions, and the one in the last page of his Fables represents his own funeral with a view of Ovingham Churchyard; below the cut appears the descriptive word "FINIS." In other engravers the management of lines constitutes the greatest share of their merit; for engraving is of itself but a mechanical art, which in truth requires not so much elevation of genius, as great industry and patience, assisted, of course, by a portion of talent. But it was the rare and happy union of talents of a high and opposite quality, which gave pre-eminency to the works of Bewick. So much for his merit as an artist. As a writer, it is difficult to determine what share of merit is due to him. His abilities in this capacity have been questioned, and perhaps unfairly. What was said to be written by others, it is known only received their corrections. He was, to be sure, little skilled in the elegance of composition, or grammatical refinements, but his language is always sensible, clear, and nervous.

Mr. Bewick was born at Cherryburn, near Ovingham, a small village about 14 miles west of Newcastle, in 1753. At the age of 14 he was apprenticed to Mr. Ralph Beilby, an engraver in Newcastle, who was a man of considerable talent. Mr. Bewick was first brought into public notice by his wood-cut of the Old Hound, which gained the premium offered for the best specimen of wood engraving by the Society of Arts, in 1775. This circumstance, no doubt, gave an impulse to his genius, and laid the foundation-stone of his fortune; and from that time his fame gradually in

creased. In 1790, conjointly with Mr. Beilby, with whom he was then a partner in business, he published his book of quadrupeds. In 1795, he, with his brother John, (who was also eminent as an engraver), embellished an edition of Goldsmith's Traveller and Deserted Village, and Parnell's Hermit; and the following year, made some beautiful designs for Somerville's Chase. In 1797 he published the first volume of British Birds; in 1804, the second volume; and in 1818 appeared the last of his published works, the Fables. He was engaged on a History of Fishes when he died; and he left in the hands of his family a MS. Memoir of himself, which is said to be written with great naïveté, and is full of anecdote. The publication, should the work appear as it came from his hand, would doubtless afford much gratification. Mr. Bewick's personal appearance was rustic; he was tall and powerfully formed, a quality which he was fond of displaying in his prime. His manners were somewhat rustic too, but he was shrewd, and disdained to ape the gentleman. His countenance was open and expressive, with a capacious forehead, strongly indicating intellect; his dark eyes beamed with the fire of genius. He was a man of strong passions-strong in his affections, and equally strong in his dislikes, the latter sometimes exposed him to the charge of illiberality, but the former and kinder feeling greatly predominated. True, he was-as most men are-jealous of his fame, and had not much affection for rival artists, but they seldom crossed his path, or caused him much uneasiness. His resentment, when once excited, was not easily allayed, but there was much warmth in his friendship. Strictly honourable was he in his dealings; and to his friends there never was a more sincere or kind-hearted man than Thomas Bewick.

INTESTINAL WORMS.

A Treatise on the Nature and Cure of Intestinal Worms of the Human Body; arranged according to the Classification of Rudolphi and Bremser, and containing the most approved Methods of Treatment, as practised in this Country and the Continent. By WILLIAM RHIND, Surgeon, Member of the Royal Medical Society of Edinburgh. Illustrated by six Plates.-Edinburgh.

DAME CURA, says Hyginus (Fab. 220), happened to be crossing a brook, and taking up some mud, made an image of it. Jupiter, soon after passing by, animated the mass; but Cura and Jupiter could not agree by what name this lump of breathing mud should be called, or who should be accounted its parent. The matter was referred to the judgment of Saturn, which was- -His name shall be called Homo ab humo; Cura eum possideat quamdiu vivat, &c.-Man from manure ; Care shall have him while he lives; Jupiter his soul, and Tellus his body when he dies.

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Now, Mr. Rhind, had you cast your eyes on this fact, the truth of which no one will venture to doubt, you would not have troubled yourself so much as you have done, in this very curious book of your's, about the manner in which worms originate in the human body, nor cared a fig about the hypotheses of Rudolphi or Bremser, or Kirkins, or Bloch, or Blumenbach :"whether eggs of the different species are conveyed from one subject to another, through the medium of the food, the drink, or the air; or whether they have their origin in the bowels, by what is called a primitive or spontaneous formation." Only admit the fact which we have just mentioned, (and which, we doubt not, you will do in the next edition of your book), namely, that Cura made man of mud; and the conclusion is evident mud contains worms; ergo, the theory of intestinal worms is clear as noon-day. Some one lately started a theory, that every part and particle of animal matter, flesh, bones, muscles, &c. is one series or conglomeration of the most minute animalcules-likely vermiculi. The gentleman is sans doute in the right. He must have read the fact mentioned by Hyginus, although he has not acknowledged, in so far as we know, the source of his information. Magis impium,

&c. says Synesius to such men: "it is more impious to steal dead men's labours than their clothes."

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We have settled the theory, and now for Mr. Rhind and his worms. Naturalists, physicians, and other men of science, will value Mr. Rhind's book for its scientific details and its practical usefulness. With regard to ourselves, we consider it in a moral point of view, and recommend it especially to young ladies and gentlemen, and all who are apt to be led away by foolish notions of the beauty and importance of their own vile bodies. Pray, Miss Jenny Lightbody, why should you spend two or three hours daily of your precious time, contemplating that pretty face of thine, or adorning that handsome figure? Read Mr. Rhind's book, and then you will find that perhaps an ugly monster of a Fischiosoma globosa-the Finna Humana der Muskleblasenwurm is rioting unscared in the choroid plexus of your fantastic brain. Now, Timothy Tithing, Esq., pray don't compress your fine waist with these infernal stays so furiously, in the vain effort of rivaling that of your lovely and most accomplished sister ;seeing every additional squeeze is forcing a large strongyle worm within you to bawl out "murder." Forget not your humanity. Why should that venerable divine, doctor, or judge, look so pompously and complacently on his big paunch "with good capon lined?" Poor man, he does not know, because he has not read Mr. Rhind's book, that his bread-basket, to a fanciful term, is a complete pantry for the Tentacularia sub-compressa; or the Filaria Medinensis, which the Greeks call dgazovriov, the Germans, Fadenwurm, the French, Dragonneau, the Hindoos, Náros, Néeria, and Néruah ;-but, by whom or by what called, it is a monster like a violin string, has a head and a beard, like a Jew, we suppose, nay a head at both ends, and is from three to ten, and twenty feet long. No wonder that such men should eat like harpies, when one mouth has to feed so many. "A certain convocation," says Hamlet, "of politic worms are e'en at him. Your worm is your only emperor for diet; we fat all creatures else to fat us, and we fat ourselves for maggots; your fat king, and your lean beggar, are but variable service; two dishes but to one table, that's

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the end."-(Act 4. sc. 3.) Hamlet here speaks of the state of the dead; Mr. Rhind's account of that of the living is nearly as humiliating. In this book we have drawings also of these monsters, by Captain Brown, done with so much fidelity and spirit, that the very sight of them makes the flesh of any one, but that of a naturalist, creep.

In fine, the scientific man will value it for its usefulness, and all should read it for the novel and curious matter which it contains.

A ROUGH COURTIER.

NOLLEKENS, who was a Catholic, having on a saint's day neglected to attend George III., whose bust he was taking, the King, when he came on the following day, said, "So, Nollekens, where were you yesterday?” Nollekens-"Why, as it was a saint's day, I thought you would not have me; so I went to see the beasts fed in the Tower." The King-" Why did you not go to Duke Street?" Nollekens-"Well I went to the Tower; and do you know they have got two such lions there! the biggest did roar so; my heart how he did roar!" And then he mimicked the roaring of the lion, so loud and so close to the King's ear, that his Majesty moved to a considerable distance to escape the imitation.-Nollekens and his Times.

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