Caiques, and Muessins, indeed, are articles with which all readers of modern travels are forced to be pretty familiar; but Chiaus, palampore, and ataghan, are rather more puzzling: they are well sounding words, however; and as they probably express things for which we have no appropriate words of our own, we shall not now object to their introduction. But we cannot extend the same indulgence to Phingari, which signifies merely the moon; which though a humble monosyllable, we maintain to be a very good word either for verse or prose, and can, on no account, allow to be supplanted, at this time of day, by any such new and unchristian appellation.

The faults of diction which may be charged against the noble author, are sufficiently apparent in several of the passages we have quoted, and need not be farther specified. They are faults, some of them of carelesness, and some, we think, of bad taste-but as they are not very flagrant in either way, it would probably de the author no good to point them out particularly to his notice. The former, we suspect, he would not take the trouble to correct and of the existence of the latter we are not sure that we should easily convince him.

We hope, however, that he will go on, and give us more fragments from his oriental coilections; and powerful as he is in the expression of the darker passions and more gloomy emotions from which the energy and the terrors of poetry are chiefly derived, we own we should like now and then to meet in his pages with something more cheerful, more amiable, and more tender. The most delightful, and, after all, the most poetical of all illusions, are those by which human happiness, and human virtue, and affection, are magnified beyond their natural dimensions, and represented in purer and brighter colours than nature can furnish, even to partial observation. Such enchanting pictures not only gladden life by the glories which they pour on the imaginationbut exalt and improve it, by raising the standard both of excellence and enjoyment beyond the vulgar level of sober precept and actual example; and produce on the ages and countries which they adorn, something of the same effect, with the occasional occurrence of great and heroic characters in real life-those moral avatars, by whose successive advents the dignity of our nature is maintained against a long series of degradations, and its divine original and high destination made palpable to the feelings of all to whom it belongs. The sterner and more terrible poetry which is conversant with the guilty and vindictive passions, is not, indeed, without its use both in purging and in exalting the soul: but the delight which it yields is of a less pure, and more overpowering nature; and the impressions which it leaves behind are of a more dangerous and ambiguous tendency. Energy of character and

intensity of emotion are sublime in themselves, and attractive in the highest degree as objects of admiration; but the admiration which they excite, when presented in combination with worthlessness and guilt, is one of the most powerful corrupters and perverters of our moral nature; and is the more to be lamented, as it is most apt to exert its influence on the noblest characters. The poetry of Lord Byron is full of this perversion; and it is because we conceive it capable of producing other and still more delightful sensations than those of admiration, that we wish to see it employed upon subjects less gloomy and revolting than those to which it has hitherto been almost exclusively devoted.

As Essay towards a Theory of Apparitions. By Johm Ferriar, M. D. 12mo, pp. 150.

DR. FERRIAR treats his subject as a physician, and finds, in diseased action of the brain, the source of those symptoms, which perplex and distress patients labouring under not heavy, but light insanity. He has collected a number of cases in which the nature of the disease is clear; he has also adduced some of real physical spectral images, which lead us to regret that he has not extended his communications on this amusing and interesting branch of his subject. We have lately adduced several instances of delusive appearances in the heavens, in reference to distant objecfs; an article inserted in a note by Dr. F. brings the appearance to a much nearer approach.

"After having been here for the thirtieth time," says Mr. Haue, " and, besides other objects of my attention, having procured information respecting the above-mentioned atmospheric phenomenon, I was at length so fortunate as to have the pleasure of seeing it; and perhaps my description may afford satisfaction to others who visit the Broken through curiosity. The sun rose about four o'clock, and the atmosphere being quite serene towards the east, his rays could pass without any obstruction over the Heinnichshohe. In the southwest, however, towards the Achtermauushohe, a brisk west wind carried before it their transparent vapours, which were not yet condensed into thick heavy clouds. About a quarter past four I went towards the inn, and looked round to see whether the atmosphere would permit me to have a free prospect to the southwest; when I observed, at a very great distance towards the Achtermaunshohe, a human figure of a monstrous size. A violent gust of wind having almost carried away my hat, I clapped my hand to it, by moving my hand towards my head, and the colossal figure did the The pleasure which I felt on this discovery can hardly be described; for I had already walked many a weary step in the hope of seeing

same.

this shadowy Image without being able to satisfy my curiosity. I diately made another movement by bending my body, and the cos figure before me repeated it. I was desirous of doing the same ti once more, but my colossus had vanished. I remained in the s position, waiting to see whether it would return, and in a few min it again made its appearance in the Achtermaunshohe. I paid respects to it a second time and it did the same to me. I then call. the landlord of the Broken; and having both taken the same positie which I had taken alone, we looked towards the Achtermaunsho but saw nothing. We had not, however, stood long, when two sur colossal figures were formed over the above eminence, which repeate our compliment by bending their bodies as we did; after which the vanished. We retained our position; kept our eyes fixed upon t same spot, and in a little time the two figures again stood before us, an were joined by a third. Every movement that we made by bending our bodies, these figures imitated-but with this difference, that t phenomenon was sometimes weak and faint, sometimes strong and we defined. Having thus had an opportunity of discovering the who secret of this phenomenon, I can give the following information t such of my readers as may be desirous of seeing it themselves. Whe the rising sun, and according to analogy the case will be the same a the setting sun, throws his rays over the Broken upon the body of ? man standing opposite to fine light clouds floating around, or hover ing past him, he needs only fix his eye steadfastly upon them, and, in ao probability, he will see the singular spectacle of his own shadow ex tending to the length of five or six hundred feet, at the distance of abou two miles before him. This is one of the most agreeable phenomera I ever had an opportunity of remarking on the great observations of Germany."

Still more curious is an instance recorded by Don Juan de Ulloa, in his voyage to South America, which we transcribe from the English translation, 1772, vol. 1. p. 442. "We saw a surprising phenomenon on our first ascent to Pambamarca. At break of day the whole mountain was encompassed with very thick clouds, which the rising of the sun dispersed so far as to leave only some vapours of a tenuity not cognisable by the sight: on the opposite side to that where the sun rose, and about ten toises distant from the place where we were standing, we saw, as in a looking-glass, the image of each of us, the head being, as it were, the centre of three concentric iris's: the last, or most external colours of one touched the first of the following; and at some distance from them all, was a fourth arch entirely white. These were perpendicular to the horizon: and as the person moved, the phenomenon moved also in the same disposition and order. But what was remarkable, though we were six or seven together, every one saw the phenomenon with regard to himself, and not that relating to others. The diameter of the arches gradually altered

with the ascent of the sun above the horizon: and the phenome non itself, after continuing a long time, insensibly vanished."

What might not a poetical imagination, or a superstitious mind, or a mind softened at the time by a particular loss of relatives, or other affliction, have inferred from these indications of celestial apotheosis and glory? Especially as each saw the optical spectra singly, what might not silence, or what might not solitude, have suggested, aided by accidental circumstances easily imagined. These appearances occurred among mountains, and it may be recollected that mountain scenery has ever been favourable to interviews with the spirits of departed heroes, with the mighty dead, supposed to haunt their former residences. Were they other than clouds assuming certain forms, or effects of light and shade flitting among the heights, or phenomena dependent on the refraction of the rays of light, solar or lunar?

But some have held conversations with spirits. Dr. F. admits that Tasso really saw the appearances with which he conversed; i. e. that such images were really present by impressions made on his disordered bodily organs: had he noticed the curious particular that Tasso's study was a Gothic apartment, and that he fancied his familiar spirit conversed with him through a window of stained glass, he might have found a very powerful support to his theory: the coloured rays certainly affected the poet's organs of vision: by delusive but not unreal operation. Dr. F. admits also, that Brutus saw, with his bodily organs, the spectre that promised to meet him at Philippi; but he has paid no attention to the circumstances which surrounded Brutus at the time. He was accus tomed to read in his tent, at midnight, when his bodily frame was debilitated by fatigue, and his spirits exhausted by long and toilsome marches, by the duties of the day ;-he was, therefore, in a state to be led astray by a predisposed imagination. What was the subject of the book he was reading?-Was it Plato, on the Immortality of the Soul, or was it the theory of the dying Bramin, who prophetically warned Alexander that they should meet at Babylon? Either of these might suggest the idea of a spectre rising to disturb his meditation, or a spirit predicting a meeting, at which the hero promised to be present.

Some curious persons, of uncommon strength of mind, and sufficiently informed, have watched the progress of this disease in themselves, and have distinguished its effects. Among the most decisive of these is the case of Nicolai, the celebrated author and bookseller of Berlin. He was accustomed to lose blood twice a year; but this was omitted at the close of the year 1790, when it ought to have taken place. Says he,

"I had, in January and February of the year 1791, the additional VOL. II. New Series.

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misfortune to experience several extremely unpleasant circumstances, which were followed on the 24th of February by a most violent altercation. My wife and another person came into my apartment in the morning in order to console me, but I was too much agitated by a series of incidents which had most powerfully affected my moral feeling, to be capable of attending to them; on a sudden I perceived, at about the distance of ten steps, a form like that of a deceased person; I pointed at it, asking my wife if she did not see it. It was but natural that she should not see any thing; my question therefore alarmed her very much, and she sent immediately for a physician. The phantasm continued about eight minutes. I grew at length more calm, and being extremely exhausted, fell into a restless sleep which lasted about half an hour: the physician ascribed the apparition to a violent mental emotion, and hoped that there would be no return; but the violent agitation of my mind had in some way disordered my nerves, and produced farther consequences which deserve a more minute description. "At four in the afternoon, the form which I had seen in the morning reappeared. I was by myself when this happened, and being rather uneasy at the incident, went to my wife's apartment, but there likewise I was prevented by the apparition, which, however, at intervals, disappeared, and always presented itself in a standing posture: about six o'clock there appeared also several walking figures, which had no connexion with the first.

"As when the first terror was over, I beheld the phantasms with great emotion taking them for what they really were, remarkable consequences of an indisposition, I endeavoured to collect myself as much as possible, that I might preserve a clear consciousness of the changes which should take place within myself; I observed these phantasms very closely, and frequently reflected on my antecedent thoughts to discover, if possible, by means of what association of ideas exactly, these forms presented themselves to my imagination; I thought at times I had found a clew, but taking the whole together I could not make out any natural connexion between the occupations of my mind, my occupations, my regular thoughts, and the multifarious forms which now appeared to me, and now again disappeared. After repeated and close observations, and calm examination, I was unable to form any conclusion relative to the origin and continuation of the different phantasms which presented themselves to me. All that I could infer was, that while my nervous system was in such an irregular state, such phantasms would appear to me as if I actually saw and heard them; that these illusions were not modified by any known laws of reason, imagination, or the common association of ideas, and that probably other people who may have had similar apparitions, were exactly in the same predicament.

"I attempted to produce at pleasure, phantasms of persons whom I knew, by intensely reflecting on their countenance, shape, &c. but distinctly as I called to my lively imagination the respective shades of three of these persons, I still laboured in vain to make them appear to me as phantasms, though I had before involuntarily seen them in that manner, and perceived them some time after, when I least thought of