HEALTH AND DISEASE.

So far from the rational care of health being justly chargeable with the imputation of selfishness, so often ignorantly thrown out against it, there is nothing which tends so much to relieve society from the burden of miseries not its own, as each individual taking such care of his constitution as shall enable him to cope successfully with the duties and difficulties of the situation in which he is placed. No man is so thoroughly selfish as he who, in the ardent pursuit of pleasure or of profit, heedlessly exposes his life to the hazard of a die, regardless of the suffering which he may entail upon those who depend on him for support. In the abstract, we all admit that the enjoyment of health is the first of earthly blessings, and that without it all others may be lavished in vain; and yet it has been quaintly asked, "Who is he that values health at the rate it is worth? Not he that hath it; he reckons it. among the common ordinary enjoyments, and takes as little notice of it, or less regards it, than his long-worn clothes; perhaps more careful of his garments, remembering their price; but thinks his health costs him nothing, and coming to him at so easy a rate, values it accordingly, and hath little regard to keep it: is never truly sensible of what he enjoyed until he finds the want of it by sickness; then health, above all things, is earnestly desired and wished for."

In proportion, however, as we consider the matter with that attention which its importance really - deserves, we shall become anxious rather to take care of health when we have it, than first to lose and then exert ourselves to recover it. Such was evidently the feeling which elicited the following remarks from the same clear-sighted author*.

"You that have health," says he, "and know not how to prize it, I'll tell you what it is, that you may love it better, put a higher value upon it, and endeavour to preserve it with a more serious, stricter observance and tuition. Health is that which makes your meat and drink both savoury and pleasant, else Nature's injunction of eating and drinking

were a hard task and a slavish custom. Health is that which makes your bed easy and your sleep refreshing; that revives your strength with the rising sun, and makes you cheerful at the light of another day; 'tis that which fills up the hollow and uneven places of your carcase, and makes your body plump and comely; 'tis that which dresseth you up in Nature's richest attire, and adorns your face with her choicest colours. Tis that which makes exercise a sport, and walking abroad the enjoyment of your liberty. 'Tis that which makes fertile, and increaseth the natural en

dowments of your mind, and preserves them long from decay, makes your wit acute, and your memory retentive. 'Tis that which supports the fragility of a corruptible body, and preserves the verdure, vigour, and beauty of youth. Tis that which makes the soul take delight in her mansion, sporting herself at the casements of your eyes. 'Tis that which makes pleasure to be pleasure, and delights delightful, without which you can solace yourself in nothing of terrene felicities or enjoyments.

But now take a view of yourself when health has turned its back upon you, and deserts your company; see then how the scene is changed, how you are robbed and spoiled of all your comforts and enjoyments. Sleep that was stretcht out from evening to the fair bright day, is now broken into pieces, and subdivided, not worth the accounting; the night that before seemed short is now too long, and the downy bed presseth hard against the bones. Exercise is now toiling, and walking abroad the carrying of a burden. The eye that flasht as lightning is now like the opacous body of a thick cloud, that rolled from east to west, swifter than a celestial orb, is now tired and weary with standing still -that penetrated the centre of another microcosm, hath lost its planetary influence, and is become obtuse and dull," &c. If such, then, be a true picture of the opposite conditions of health and disease, what stronger in

* MAYNWARINGE on the Method and Means of Health.

ducements can any one require to give him an interest in the "study and observance of Nature's institutions," seeing that they are the means by which the beloved ends and wished-for enjoyments" can be attained, and that we “ may as likely keep, or acquire riches by prodigality, as preserve health, and obtain long life by intemperance, inordinate passions, a noxious air, and such like injurious customs, ways, and manner of living."-COMBE'S Physiology.

ANECDOTE OF WEST, LATE PRESIDENT OF THE ROYAL ACADEMY.

WHEN Benjamin West was some eight years old, a party of roaming Indians paid their summer visit to Springfield, (Pennsylvania,) and were much pleased with the rude sketches which the boy had made of birds, and fruits, and flowers, for in such drawings many of the wild Americans have both taste and skill. They showed him some of their and yellow colours with which they stained their weapons; own workmanship, and taught him how to prepare the red to these his mother added indigo, and thus he was possessed of the three primary colours. The Indians, unwilling to leave such a boy in ignorance of their other acquirements, taught him archery, in which he became expert enough to shoot refractory birds, which refused to come on milder terms for their likenesses. The future President of the British Academy, taking lessons in painting and in archery, from a tribe of Cherokees, might be a subject worthy of the pencil.

The wants of West increased with his knowledge. He could draw, and he had obtained colours, but how to lay those colours skilfully on, he could not well conceive. Á neighbour informed him that this was done with brushes and he had recourse to the cat, from whose back and tail he formed of camels' hair; there were no camels in America, supplied his wants. The cat was a favourite, and the altered condition of her fur was imputed to disease, till the boy's confession explained the cause, much to the amusement of his father, who nevertheless rebuked him, but One Pennington, a merchant, was so much pleased with more in affection than in anger. Better help was at hand. the sketches of his cousin Benjamin, that he sent him a box of paints and pencils, with canvass prepared for the easel, and six engravings by Greoling. West placed the box on a chair at his bedside, and was unable to sleep.

He rose with the dawn, carried his canvass and colours to the garret, hung up the engravings, prepared a palette, and commenced copying. So completely was he under the himself from school, laboured secretly and incessantly, and control of this species of enchantment, that he absented without interruption, for several days, when the anxious inquiries of the schoolmaster introduced his mother into his studio with no pleasure in her looks. But her anger subsided as she looked upon his performance. He had the engravings, telling a new story, and coloured with a avoided copyism, and made a picture composed from two of skill and effect which was in her sight surprising. "She kissed him," says Galt, who had the story from the artist, would not only intercede with his father to pardon him for with transports of affection, and assured him that she having absented himself from school, but would go herself to the master and beg that he might not be punished. Sixty-seven years afterwards, the writer of these memoirs had the gratification to sec this piece in the same room occasion the painter declared to him that there were invenwith the sublime painting of Christ Rejected, on which tive touches of art in his first and juvenile essay, which, with all his subsequent knowledge and experience, he had Canova;-he visited his native place after having risen into not been able to surpass." A similar story is related of eminence, looked earnestly on the performances of his youth, and said sorrowfully, "I have been walking but not climbing."-Lives of Painters.

MEN are very seldom disappointed, except when their desires are immoderate, or when they suffer their passions to overpower their reason, and dwell upon delightful scenes of future honours, power, or riches, till they mistake probabilities for certainties, or wild wishes for rational expec tations. If such men, when they awake from these voluntary dreams, find the pleasing pliantom vanish away; what can they blame but their own folly ?—Dr. JoHNSON

EAST INDIA STATIONS. No. VII. GHAZEEPORE.—THE INDIAN ROSE-ROSE Water. GHAZEEPORE, or, as it is sometimes spelt, Gazypoor, long celebrated for its rose-water, is the capital of a circar or province of Hindostan, of the same name. It is situated on the left bank of the river Ganges, 41 miles north-east of Benares, and 92 miles east of Allahabad. It is described by Bishop Heber as a large town or city, and when viewed from the river, as presenting a very striking appearance, though on a nearer inspection, its noblest buildings are, as is too often the case in Indian towns, found to be in a miserable state of ruin.

The native city itself is, however, better built, and better kept, than many other places of more importance. The bazaars are neat and well supplied, and Bishop Heber, describing the place, says, "One of the streets was so wide, one might have supposed oneself in an English country town." But he adds, "the town has no large houses except one, the property of a wealthy Mussulman, which is extremely like some of the old houses in Scotland, as represented in prints, and described by the Author of Waverley. Like all other native buildings, it looks dingy and neglected, but appears in good substantial repair, and is a striking object, more so, perhaps, than most of the Corinthian verandahs at Calcutta. There are, moreover, the remains of an old castle here, now reduced to little more than a high green mound, scattered with ruins, and overhung with some fine trees."

Although the neighbouring population is chiefly Hindoo, a very considerable portion of the inhabitants of the town are Mussulmans. Their mosques here, are more numerous, or at least more remarkable, than the pagodas. Indeed, although, taking the whole province together, they form but barely an eleventh part of the population, and amongst the remainder, Hindooism exists in all its strength and bigotry, yet as it is in the large towns that the Mussulmans chiefly abound, they sometimes appear here in such numbers, in the shops and streets, as to lead persons to believe that they bear a more considerable proportion to their Hindoo brethren.

"At the eastern extremity of the town," the Bishop relates, "is a very handsome, though ruined palace, built by the Nawab, Cossim Ali Khan, the most airy and best contrived, so far as can be perceived from its outward appearance, of any of the eastern buildings I have seen. Its verandahs are really magnificent, but its desolation is so recent, that it is very far from being a pleasing object on approaching near enough to perceive its decay. It is approached from the land through a fine stone gateway, which, though differing in a few particulars from the English Gothic, certainly belongs to the same style of architecture. This is in good repair, and has still its massive teak folding-doors clenched with iron studs, and with the low-browed wicket in the middle, like an English castle or college.

"At the other extremity of the town, and separated from it by gardens and scattered cottages, are the houses of the civil servants of the Company, mostly with ground-floors only, but large and handsome. They are surrounded by good gardens, and occupy picturesque situations amidst tame but luxuriant scenery, where the green lanes, flowering hedgerows, and receding glades, bring to mind some of the most cultivated portions of England. Beyond these is the military cantonment, ugly low bungalows, with sloping roofs of red tile, but deriving some advantage from the trees with which they are surrounded and intermingled, The most conspicuous

building amongst them is the monument to Lord Cornwallis, who died here on his way up the country. It has been, evidently," says Bishop Heber, "a very costly building; its materials are excellent, being of the finest freestone I ever saw, and it is an imitation of the celebrated Sibyl's Temple, of large proportions, solid masonry, and raised above the ground on a lofty and striking basement; but the building is utterly unmeaning; it is neither a temple nor a tomb, neither has altar, statue, or inscription; and it is vexatious to think that a church might have been built, and a handsome marble monument to Lord Cornwallis placed in its interior, for little more money. Ugly, however, as it is, it may yet be made a good use of, by making it serve the purpose of a detached bell-tower to the new church which is required for the station. The times are, I fear, unpropitious for any grants of this nature from the Indian government, yet the wants of this station are so urgent-for when they have European soldiers here again, they will have no building of any kind to receive them for worship,—and the representation which the principal civil and military servants have made to me is so strong, that it is absolutely my duty to urge the case, and I will certainly do so. The place (an old riding-house,) which had been used as a church before the station lost its chaplain, the quarter-master had reported, some time since, to government, as unsafe for any persons to assemble in. A tradesman, however, offered his long room, (generally used for auctions, and sometimes for assemblies,) which, now that the European regiment. was absent, and the probable congregation less numerous than it otherwise would have been, answered the purpose extremely well, being large, airy, and furnished both with seats and punkahs. Mr. Corrie read prayers, and I preached and administered the Sacrament of the Lord's Supper to a small, but very attentive congregation, almost exclusively of the higher class."

It is really melancholy to read such accounts as this of Bishop Heber, respecting the deplorable want of Christian churches and ministers amongst the Christian inhabitants of India! What must be the effect on the religious principles and practice of the Christians themselves, coming as they do from this land of spiritual abundance! What, also, must be the fatal influence on the minds, both of Mohammedans and Hindoos, when they contrast the number and state of their mosques and pagodas with the unworthy character of the places of worship in which our clergy are compelled to officiate in many of the Mofussil stations! If we would make any effectual religious impression on our unbelieving fellow-subjects in India, we must first make our holy religion appear respectable in their eyes.

Ghazeepore is celebrated throughout India for the wholesomeness of its air, and the beauty and extent of its rose-gardens. Perhaps these, in a good degree, arise from the same cause, the elevated level on which it stands and the dryness of its soil, which never retains the moisture, and after the heaviest showers is in a very few hours fit to walk on with comfort. The English regiments removed hither from the other stations, have, it is said. always found the number of their deaths diminish from the Indian to the European proportion.

The precious incense of the rose, the atta-gool, so celebrated throughout all the civilized parts of the world, is produced in considerable quantities in the gardens round Ghazeepore. A paradise of roses conveys enchanting ideas to the mind. Fancy decks the scene in bright and glowing colours; sober reality, however, dispels these gay illusions; the cultivation

of roses at Ghazeepore is a mere matter of business, and the extensive fields, though planted with roses, do not appear so beautiful and attractive as might at first be imagined. The fact is, the Indian rose, though its very name seems to imply distinction, can only sustain a comparison with its European sisters in the fragrance which it yields. It is beautiful, for could a rose be otherwise? But excepting at Agra, it does not attain to the magnificent size common in England, nor does it present the infinite varieties which adorn our gardens.

England is not the land of romance, but her hopgrounds have been considered as far more beautiful than the vine-wreathed valleys of France, or the rosegardens which bloom in the East. The rose of an English cottage, clambering from lattice to lattice, and mounting over the rustie porch in bright redundance, is infinitely more attractive than its Indian namesake. The roses of eastern climes bloom sparingly upon a low shrub, which is kept to a dwarfish size by the gardener's knife, and the fullblown flowers being gathered every morning, the trees rarely present the luxuriance of loaded boughs, drooping beneath the weight of their silken treasures.

The roses of Ghazeepore are planted formally, in large fields, occupying many hundred acres in the neighbourhood. The flush of their flowers, when opening to the morning ray, and enamelling the verdant carpet of green spread over a sun-lit plain, cannot, however, fail to delight the eye. The gather ing of the roses is performed systematically by a multitude of poor labourers, who carefully secure every full-blown flower. The first process which these undergo is that of distillation. The goolaabee pāānee, rose-water, thus obtained is poured into large vessels, which are exposed uncovered to the open air

during the night. The narnes, or jars, are skimmed occasionally, the essential oil floating on the surface being the precious concentration of aroma, which is so highly prized. It takes 200,000 well-grown roses to produce the weight of a rupee of atta. The price even on the spot is extravagant, a rupee's weight being sold in the bazaar, where it is often adulterated with sandal-wood, for eighty rupees, (about eight pounds of our money,) and at the English warehouse, where it is warranted genuine, at a hundred rupees, or ten pounds.

Rose-water which has been skimmed is reckoned inferior to that which retains its essential oil, and is sold at Ghazeepore at a lower price than that which is warranted with its cream entire; though according to the opinion of many, there is scarcely any perceptible difference in the quality. A seer, a full quart of the best, may be obtained for eight anas, which is about one shilling. Rose-water enters into almost every part of the domestic economy of the natives of India: it is used for ablutions, in medicine, and in cookery. Before the abolition of presents, it made a part of the offerings of persons who were not rich enough to load the trays with gifts of greater value; it is poured over the hands after their meals, and at the festival of the Hoolee, all the guests are profusely sprinkled with it. Europeans suffering under attacks of prickly fever, find the use of rosewater a great alleviation; natives take it internally for all sorts of complaints; they consider it to be a sovereign remedy for an inward bruise; and, in fact, Eau de Cologne cannot be more popular in France than rose-water is in India.

D. I. E.

[From BISHOP HEBER'S Journal and the Asiatic Journal.]