potence. This view is, I think, simpler; but it is difficult to form any distinct opinion on so high and incomprehensible a subject, on which, perhaps, after all, it is wiser to confess our entire ignorance, and to bow down in humble adoration to the One Incomprehensible Cause of all Being. "Poiet.-I agree with you in your last sentence; but I still adhere to my own view, and I hope you will not object to a favourite opinion of mine,— that instincts are to animals what revelation is to man, intended to supply wants in their physical constitution, which in man are provided by reason; and that revelation is to him an instinct, teaching him what reason cannot,―his religious duties, the undying nature of his intellectual part, and the relations of his conduct to eternal happiness and misery. "Hal.- Davus sum non Edipus.' I will not attempt to discuss this view of yours, Poietes; but I think I may say that all the instincts of animals seem to be connected with pleasure or utility. Perhaps there is no more pleasurable state of the human mind than when with intense belief it looks forward to another world, and to a better state of existence, or is absorbed in the adoration of the Supreme and Eternal Intelligence." The concluding part of the work, in which, in the character of Physicus, he describes his state of mind and sentiment when he wrote, with the feelings of earlier and happier life, are too characteristic and impressive to be withheld; and I shall insert the paragraph or two which contain them, and are connected with them, though it was my intention to have introduced no more quotations. The angling friends walk to the rock above the fall of the Traun, about to part in different directions: "Hal.-But our horses are ready, and the time of separation arrives. I trust we shall all have a happy meeting in England in the winter. I have made you idlers at home and abroad, but I hope to some purpose; and I trust you will confess the time bestowed on angling has not been thrown away. The most important principle, perhaps, in life, is to have a pursuit, -a useful one if possible, and at all events an innocent one; and the scenes you have enjoyed, the contemplations to which they have led, and the exercise in which you indulged, have, I am sure, been very salutary to the body, and I hope to the mind. I have always found a peculiar effect from this kind of life; it has appeared to bring me back to early times and feelings, and to create again the hopes and happiness of youthful days. Phys.-I felt something like what you described; and were I convinced that in the cultivation of the amusement these feelings would increase, I would devote myself to it with passion; but I fear in my case this is impossible. Ah! could I recover anything like that freshness of mind which I possessed at twenty-five, and which, like the dew of the dawning morning, covered all objects and nourished all things that grew, and in which they were more beautiful than in mid sunshine, what would I not give? All that I have gained in an active and not unprofitable life. How well I remember that delightful season, when, full of power, I sought for power in others; and power was sympathy, and sympathy power; when the dead and the unknown, the great of other ages, and of distant places, were made by the force of the imagination my companions and friends; when every voice seemed one of praise and love; when every flower had the bloom and odour of the rose; and every spray or plant seemed either the poet's laurel or the civic oak, which appeared to offer themselves as wreaths to adorn my throbbing brow. But, alas! this cannot be ! and even you cannot have two springs in life; though I have no doubt you have fishing days in which the feelings of youth return, and that your autumn has a more vernal character than mine." CHAPTER VII. REVISITS THE CONTINENT.- EXTRACTS FROM HIS JOURNAL. LETTERS 66 O'DONOGHUES," AN IRISH STORY, WRITTEN AT WURZEN. HIS BROTHER FROM LAYBACH. EXPERIMENTS ON THE TORPEDO AT TRIESTE. LETTERS FROM ROME.-OCCUPATIONS THERE.-NOTE ON THE BRITISH MUSEUM, WITH SUGGESTIONS FOR ITS IMPROVEMENT.— SUDDEN ATTACK OF DANGEROUS ILLNESS. LETTERS WRITTEN FROM HIS DICTATION.-PARTICULARS OF HIM DURING HIS ILLNESS. NOTICES OF LITTLE EXCURSIONS WITH HIM IN THE NEIGHBOURHOOD OF ROME. JOURNEY FROM ROME TO GENEVA. HIS NOTICE OF DR. THOMAS YOUNG. THE CLOSE OF HIS LIFE. PUBLIC FUNERAL. CONJECTURES RESPECTING HIS MALADY. I AM AM approaching the end of my task, and it is now a sad one; for I have to record my brother's last journey and the close of his life. Not finding his health improve materially or permanently at home, he decided, with the consent of his physicians, on quitting England for his favourite Alpine regions in Southern Austria. There he proposed to spend the summer, and in winter to descend into Italy. "I was desirous," he says, in his "Consolations in Travel," "of again passing some time in these scenes, in the hope of re-establishing a broken constitution; and though this hope was a feeble one, yet at least I expected to spend a few of the last days of life more tranquilly and more agreeably than in the metropolis of my own country. Nature," he adds, in a strain of melancholy sentiment and high admiration, "Nature never deceives us. The rocks, the mountains, the streams, always speak the same language. A shower of snow may hide the verdant woods in spring; a thunder storm may render the blue limpid streams foul and turbulent: but these effects are rare and transient; in a few hours, or at least days, all the sources of beauty are renovated; and Nature affords no continued trains of misfortunes and miseries, such as depend upon the constitution of humanity,-no hopes for ever blighted in the bud,—no beings full of life, beauty, and promise, taken from us in the prime of youth. Her fruits are all balmy, bright, and sweet; she affords none of those blighted ones so common in the life of man, and so like the fabled apples of the Dead Sea, fresh and beautiful to the sight, but, when tasted, full of bitterness and ashes." - He set out from London on the 29th of March, accompanied by Mr. Tobin (now Dr. Tobin), the eldest son of his early friend, Mr. James Tobin, a young gentleman who had nearly completed his medical studies. Passing through Austrian Flanders, they crossed from the Rhine to the Danube; and from thence at Donanworth, proceeding southward, the season not being sufficiently advanced to enjoy the Alpine country, they travelled without much delay to Laybach, where they arrived on the 4th of May. At Laybach, for a little while he amused himself with fishing and shooting, and extending his observations on natural history. The petzardone was then in the marshes, and the hucho in the rivers. In the stomach of the former, in many instances, he found a peculiar caterpillar, that of the Eporris cincta of Borelli, which he believed might be the proper |