Worts, Ale, and Beer may be made from this water, when cold, and even when in a putrid state, from the cask every day, and in every climate.

3d. Spirits-Which may be made from wort-cake and yeast-powder without danger of the ship taking fire, because the ship may carry a portable still, to be put on shore when necessary.

Also, Salt can be made in the ship, by merely throwing upon the top of the boiler, the brine left at the bottom of the still, which will crystallize.

Mr. Gregory has also proposed to the victualling board, to disclose a process by which beef or mutton may be preserved sweet for many months, without the use of a particle of salt.

MAXIMS OF HEALTH.

Extract from a recent Work of Dr. Kitchener's. "The more luxuriously you live, the more exercise you require.

"Exercise, to have its full effect, must he continued till we feel a sensible degree of perspiration (which is the panacea for the prevention of corpulence), and should at least once a-day, proceed to the borders of fatigue, but never pass them, or we shall be weakened instead of strengthened.

"After exercise, take care to get cool gradually; when your head perspires, rub it and your face, &c. dry with a cloth.

"Be content with one dish; as many men dig their grave with their teeth as with the tankard. Drunkenness is destructive, but gluttony destroys an hun. dred to the one.

"The food which we fancy, most generally, sits easier on the stomach.

"To affirm that any thing is wholesome or unwholesome, without considering the subject in all the circumstances to which it bears relation, and the unaccountable peculiarities of different constitutions, is, with submission, talking

nonsense.

"What we have been longest use to, is most likely to agree with us best.

"The wholesomeness, &c. of all food depends very much on the quality of it, and the way in which it is cooked.

"Those who are poor in health must live as they can certainly, the less stimulus any of us use the better, provided it be sufficient to properly carry on the circulation.

"The stately dames of Edward the Fourth's court rose with the lark, despatched their dinner at eleven o'clock in the forenoon, and, shortly after eight, were wrapt in slumber. How would these people be astonished could they but be witnesses to the present distribution of time among the Children of Fashion! Would they not call the perverse conduct of those who rise at one or two, dine at eight, and retire to bed when the morning is unfolding all its glories, and nature putting on her most pleasing aspect-absolute insanity!

"Swift has observed, such is the extent of modern epicurism, that the world must be encompassed before a washer. woman can sit down to breakfast !— i. e. by a voyage to the East for tea and to the West for sugar."

THE BACHELOR AND MARRIED MAN.

To the Editor.

SIR, Your pages have lately been made the instrument of so many remarks on the matrimonial state, as almost to render any thing further on the subject perfectly insipid: the following contrast, however, which I found on reviewing a late publication, is so beautifully and ably described as to leave no doubt of its being acceptable to the majority of your readers; but more especially to those who can assume with me the title of

Your's respectfully, CONJUX. Blackburn, February 28th, 1822.

"A bachelor, is a sort of whimsical being, that nature never inended to create; he was formed out of all the odds and ends of what materials were left, after the great work was over: unluckily for him, the finer passions were all mixed up in the composition of those creatures intended for social enjoyments; what remains for the bachelor is hardly enough to round the crusty mould into which he is thrown, to avoid waste. Some seasoning, that he may not be quite insipid, must be substituted in lieu of more valuable ingredients; so, dame nature tosses in self-love, without weight or measure -a kind of understanding that is fit for no other use a sprinkling of wisdom, which turns to acid from the sour dis

Position of the vessel in which it is contained; and the whole composition is concluded with an immoderate portion of oddities. Thus formed, thus finished, a bachelor is popped into the world-mere lumber, without a' possibility of being happy himself, or essentially contributing to the happiness of others. His only business is to keep himself quiet; he gets up to lie down, and lies down to get up. No tender impressions enliven his waking hoursno agreeable reveries disturb his dronish slumbers. If he ever speak the language of sensibility, he speaks it on the excellence of some favourite dish, or on the choice liquors with which his cellars abound; on such subjects he feels the rapture of a lover. The pace of a bachelor is sober; he would hardly nend it to get out of a storm, though that storm were to threaten a deluge; but shew him a woman who is entitled to the compliment of his haf, and be will shuffle on as if he were walking for a wager. His housekeeper or his laundress be can talk to without reserve, but any other of the sex, whose condition is above a useful dependent, is his terror. A coffee-house is his "sanctum sanctorum" against a bright eye and dazzling complexion; here he lounges half his days-at bome he sits down to his unsocial meal, and when his palate is pleased, he has no other passion to gratify. Such is a bachelor; such the life of a bachelor: what becomes of him after death, I am not casuist enough to determine."

"Now for the married man.-The felicity of a married man never stands still; it flows perpetually, and strengthens in its passage; it is supplied from various channels; it depends more on others than himself: from participation proceed the most ecstatic enjoyments of a married man.

"By an union with the gentlest, most polished, and most beautiful part of creation, his mind is harmonized, his manners softened, his soul animated by the tenderest, liveliest sensations.

Love, gratitude, and universal bene volence, mix in all his ideas. The house of a married man is his paradise; he never leaves it without rerget, never returns to it but with gladness, the friend of his soul, the wife of his bosom, welcomes his approach with suscepti bility,-joy flushes her cheek-mutual are their transports. Infants, lovely as the spring, climb about his knees, and contend which shall catch the envied kiss of paternal fondness. Smiling plenty, under the guardianship of economy, is seen in every department of his family. Generosity stands porter at his door; liberality presides at his table; and social mirth gives to time the most pleasing motion. To the existence of a married man, there is no termination; when death overtakes him, his glory is immortalized, and his children's children represent him on earth to the last generation."

To Correspondents.

Our acknowledgments are due to Mr. Gregory for his interesting particu lars. We hope be will excuse the freedom we have taken in making a few necessary alterations.

We thank N. for the trouble he has taken in sending us the two scraps of Poetry, but we think he might be more select. Original matter would be preferable.

Nox's Midnight Stanzas, in our opinion, should remain in darkness.

We have heard it repeatedly asserted

that Mr. White was the author of the strictures on the Leeds Concert, and Oratorio, which appeared in the Babbler; and we deem it but justice both to that gentleman and ourselves to state, that so far from being the case, it was done without Mr. White's knowledge, and by one of us, who has not the least personal acquaintance with that gentleman.

EDRS.

pects of fancy. He assumes more than his nature warrants him to do; he forgets his liability to err, and thinks not of his total dependence upon providence and chance; but, with the greatest possible presumption, he spins out a scheme for the attainment of wealth or the realization of riches, with as much positive affirmation of their being accomplished, as though he were an immutable and infallible creature. He conceives his mind to be matured, and privileged to make these vain arrangements. Because he lives to-day, he imagines that life will be his to-morrow; and instead of acknowledging himself the child of decay, and carrying humility in his person, he would make time conform to his wishes, and life and death submit to his control.

Our hours are all numbered in the mind of the great Creator: they will be short in their duration, and quick in their departure. On the morrow our appointed portion upon earth may be concluded, and then we shall only have to regret in excruciating tears the bad use which we have made of the valuable time of our lives. Remembrance will be busy on our death beds, and will depict to the aching mind all the many hours which have been expended in careless apathy or have been made subservient to the committal of wickedness. Conscience will then inweave us in her net of thraldom, and will exert over our sinking frames the full strength of her merciless and destroying stings. Then the brain will be racked by the horrifying pictures which will present themselves. Memory will sicken whilst it recounts all the wasted moments of existence the heart will crack at the recital.

We must either make a good use of the moments which are in our power, or they will glide away and leave us to regret their departure without being enabled to recall them again. It is folly, thus to allow the precious hours to make their escape: we ought to fill up every instant with some profitable employment of the mind or in the completion of the numerous duties which we owe to society, our friends, and to ourselves. The morning should not be permitted to dawn upon our slothfulness; nor the evening to set upon our idleness. We should waste as little time as possible in the recreative indul

gences of sleep, eating and drinking, or in amusement and pleasure. A becoming portion of these are essential to sweeten our labours, and to yield a healthful relief to the wearisome engagements of active and bustling life; but man will not be guided by reason, and feel satisfied in moderate delights and gratifications:-he plunges into the depths of indulgence, and too frequently is borne down by the snares of the destructive element, never to rise again.

In consideration of the many years of life which slip by in the period of infancy, we ought to make up as far as possible the time then lost, by redoubled application and attention in our mature years. We come into the world in a state of total incapacity, whether in our mental or physical powers, and for a long period we remain without the capability to help ourselves, or assist in the offices and duties of society. Every faculty is contracted, and every func tion is beyond its comprehension and reach. Instruction has to pour her precepts into the primeval mind; and time alone will strengthen its ability for conception. It progressively emerges from this state of helplessness, but not without a great many precious moments having been spent over its maturation.

In the days of youth we allot much of our time to play; and in innocent and healthful gambols many hours are re gularly spent. These are all essential and against them I have nothing to adduce. I do not desire to see the budding child taking upon himself the offices that belong to after life; I like it to be cheerful, open, and unoppressed by care, and devoid of presumption, craft, and sordidness. These virtues can only be cultivated and gain a firm seat in the heart, by being kept as it were a stranger to the vices and deceits of mankind generally. But whilst I am an advocate for the first of our years being employed in the cultiva tion of the mind, and in harmless and engaging pursuits, I would have every one, when he enters upon the duties of this situation, to apply himself with increased vigour in his various engagements, in order, if possible, to make up the loss of time which he has sustained in the frivolities of his first years of existence.

Time goes forward until by progres sion we attain the climax of health,

vigour, manhood and knowledge; but, then our gradual decay ensues till from our pre-eminent place among mankind we are brought into contiguity with the dust of the earth. Our birth, our rise, and our fall are all comprised in a short period: if then we consider well the many hours of that period which are passed in sleep, in feeding on profuse pleasures, in the race after phantoms of supposed bliss; if we reflect on the small portion of that space which is made truly subservient to good and virtuous purposes, and of the apathy which we display in the services of God and of our own souls,-if then, I say, we contemplate these truths, and take a just estimate of the good and evil which we have done, we shall discover much room for condemning ourselves, for the bad use that we make of our time, and for our neglect in making as much as possible of every day.

Our duties as relatives, as members of society, and as children of God, are multitudinous; and are too important to be trifled with. Our character in this world, our happiness in the world hereafter, and the sorrow or bliss of many others, are depending upon our fulfilment of these various offices. If men would take this subject more particularly into consideration, they would see the necessity of guarding against those temptations which lead them to lavish away time, and to spend their precious hours in profitless pursuits after enjoyment.

was

The slothful man will have much to answer for his profusion of life and waste of time. Every moment given to be rendered subservient to virtue and good: what a crime, then, it must be to watch that moment expire without having occupied it in a proper

doubt it appears strange to you, and not without cause; but it must be so, for I must arm myself and serve the gentle dauphin in arms, therefore I must suit my dress to the occasion. Besides, when I am in this dress among the men they will not have any improper desires, and I trust by this means to preserve both the purity of my mind and body." Anong her visitors was the master of requests of the King's household who said to her, "Joan they are about to try your courage and see whether you will be able to victual Orleans. This appears to me a difficult job, considering the fortifications about the town, and the great strength and power of the English." "In God's name," said she, we will do it and at our ease; for not one of the English will make a sally or even attempt to hinder." Her equipage was completed, and Joan Dolon was her squire,- as famous for his courage as for his prudence; Louis de Comptes, surnamed Imergnet, her page; and many other attendants.

66

During these preparations Joan asked for a sword which had been more than a century in the tomb of a knight behind the altar of St. Catherine's at Ferbois. She pretended to have had knowledge of it by revelation, and that it was only with this fatal sword she could extirpate the English. The first use she made of it was to drive away the girls of loose behaviour who follow. ed the army; but in the heat of the action, this marvellous sword, which was half eaten through with rust, broke in her hand. She ordered a banner to be made for her, on which was represented God coming out of a cloud, holding a globe in his hand; it was sprinkled over with flower de luces. Her helmet was surmounted with a plume of white feathers; her horse was of the same colour, and she surpassed all by her beauty, and the address and skill with which she managed him.

On the 29th of April, 1429, Joan appeared before Orleans with 12,000 men. She wrote a letter to the Duke of Bedford; but the English were so enraged at seeing a girl sent to fight them, that they put the heralds who brought it into prison.

The Count de Dunois who command. ed in Orleans made a sally with all his garrison, in order to facilitate the entry