tions about the mouth; and constitutionally, by inducing, among other effects, dyspepsia, diarrhoea, disease of the liver, congestion of the brain, loss of memory, amaurosis, generally confined to one eye, apoplexy, palsy, and even mania. "When a youth commences his apprenticeship to smoking tobacco," says Mr. Lizars, "he suffers often the most inconceivably miserable sickness and vomiting-almost as bad as sea-sickness. It generally produces these effects so rapidly, that their production must entirely depend on nervous influence, as giddiness is almost immediately induced. The antidote or cure for this miserable condition is drinking strong coffee or brandy and water, | and retiring to a bed or sofa. If he perseveres, he has just to suffer onward, until his nervous system becomes habituated to the noxious weed, and too often to the bottle at the same time. It is truly melancholy to witness the great number of the young who smoke now-a-days; and it is painful to contemplate how many promising youths must be stunted in their growth, and enfeebled in their minds, before they arrive at manhood." Two cases only we shall notice: one of the local, the other of the constitutional effects of smoking. The former was the case of a captain in the Indian navy, who, from smoking cheroots, had contracted an ulceration of the mucous membrane of the left cheek, extending backward to the tonsil and pharynx of the same side, having all the characteristic appearances of cancer. Such was his condition when he applied to our author; but the disease resisted every mode of treatment, and he died the victim of the cheroots. crowbar were pressed tightly from the right breast to the left, till it came and twisted in a knot round the heart, which now stopped deathly still for a minute, and then leaped like a dozen frogs. After two hours of deathlike suffering, the attack ceased; and I found that ever after my heart missed every fourth beat! My physician said that I had organic disease of the heart, must die suddenly, and need only take a little brandy for the painful paroxysms; and I soon found it the only thing that gave them any relief. For the next twenty-seven years I continued to suffer milder attacks like the above, lasting from one to several minutes, sometimes as often as two or three times a day or night; and to be sickly-looking, thin, and pale as a ghost." All this time the man had not thought of attributing his sufferings to the use of tobacco; but one day he took it into his head to revolt against being a slave to one vile habit alone, and after thirty-three years' use, he renounced it at once and forever. "Words," he said, "could not describe my suffering and desire for a time. I was reminded of the Indian who, next to all the rum in the world, wanted all the tobacco. But my firm will conquered. In a month my paroxysms nearly ceased, and soon after left entirely. I was directly a new man, and grew stout and hale as you see. With the exception of a little asthmatic breathing, in close rooms and the like, for nearly twenty years' since I have enjoyed excellent health." On examination, Dr. Corson found the heart of this individual apparently healthy in size and structure, only irregular, inThe other is the case of a man-an termitting still at every fourth pulsation. American, it would seem-who, according He is now, or was a few months ago, still to his own statement, began chewing to- living, a highly intelligent man, sixty-five bacco at seventeen years of age, swallow-years of age, stout, ruddy, and managing ing the juice to avoid the injury he appre- a large business. hended might accrue to his lungs from constant spitting. He afterward suffered much from gnawing at the stomach, a capricious appetite, nausea, vomiting of his meals, emaciation, nervous irritability, and palpitation of the heart. After seven years thus passed, he became the subject of angina pectoris. "One day after dinner," he said, relating his case to Dr. Corson of New-York, "I was suddenly seized with intense pain in the chest, gasping for breath, and a sensation as if a VOL. VII.-5 Facts like these are worthy the grave consideration of those who use the noxious herb, if no better plea can be urged in its defense than that it passes an idle hour, and supplies the care-worn and depressed spirit with a gentle and soothing species of intoxication. NEITHER fears nor favors can tempt the holily resolute: they can trample upon dangers and honor with a careless foot.Bishop Hall. CHEMICAL POWER OF THE SUNBEAM. wanted permanence. They could only be PHOTOGRAPHY. F we carefully examine the history of scientific discovery, it will be apparent that the progress of knowledge is regulated by a constant law. The time appears to be fixed when any new truth shall be born unto man. These laws are far beyond the reach of human intellect; but we are permitted to see that the Eternal One, who regulated the tides of the material ocean, has, in his infinite wisdom, fixed the extent of oscillation-the height and the depth of each mental wave-and commanded the great spiritual tidewave of knowledge to advance in obedience to an undeviating law. From the earliest periods of historysince man clothed himself in dyed garments -it must have been observed that some colors were darkened, while others were bleached, by the sun's rays. To the philosophy of this, his mental eye was obscured the fact was constantly occurring, (and a thousand facts are still forever presenting themselves to us, unnoticed or uncared for,) and man did not perceive the important bearing of the phenomenon. Eventually, the alchemists, possessed with the idea that gold differed from silver in nothing but that it contained more of the sun's sulphur, were induced to present various compounds of silver to the sunshine, with the hope of obtaining this "interpenetration of the sulphureous principle of light," which was to change the baser silver to the royal gold. Thus they discovered a remarkable change which takes place in the sunshine on one of the salts of silver. to preserved in the dark. Viewed by daylight they soon became uniformly black. A few years after this a French gentleman, M. Niepce, was induced to take up the inquiry, and he made the remarkable discovery, that the solar rays altered the character of all kinds of resinous substances. He therefore spread upon plates of glass and metal a thin coating of some varnish, and placing it in the cameraobscura, allowed the beautiful images of Baptista Porta's instrument to fall upon the plate. These images, being the result of radiations from external objects, have relatively the amount of luminous and chemical power determined by the colors of their surfaces, and the quantity of illumination to which they are exposed. It was found, after exposure in this way, that some portions of the resinous surface were more soluble than others. The plates were consequently placed in some solvent, and thus was gradually developed "the clouded imagery" of the picture impressed upon the plate. The pictures thus produced are called by their discoverer HELIOGRAPHS. Niepce became acquainted with Daguerre, the dioramic painter. They were both engaged in the same line of inquiry, and it was agreed that they should continue their investigations together. It is not quite easy to trace the progress made by Niepce and Daguerre, as it was not until after the death of Niepce that Daguerre announced the discovery of the process which bears his name. During this period Mr. Henry Fox Talbot was quietly working in the same direction, and he so far improved upon the process of Wedgwood, as to give permanence to the sun-drawn pictures. Since the publication of these processes, photography has made rapid advances. Eventually an Englishman, Mr. Thomas Wedgwood-the son of him who so greatly improved our porcelain manufacture-conceived it quite possible, since differentcolored media were not equally transparent to the radiant chemical power, copy the paintings on the windows of our old churches by covering white paper or leather with the nitrate or the chloride of silver. He succeeded in his experiments, and, with the assistance of Sir Humphrey Davy, extended his plan so far as to secure copies of images by the solar microscope, thus becoming the discoverer of the beautiful art of PHOTOGRAPHY. The If silver is dissolved in nitric acid we pictures produced by Mr. Wedgwood | obtain a salt-nitrate of silver. When A few of the more important processes must now be described. It is difficult, within the limits allowed, to make a selection from, or to enter into the details of, the various methods by which photographs can be obtained; the most satisfactory course will be to state those general principles by which the resulting photographic phenomena may be best understood. this salt is dissolved in perfectly pure distilled water, it may be exposed to sunshine for any period without undergoing change; but add thereto the smallest portion of organic matter, and it is quickly decomposed, the silver being precipitated as a black powder. In paper we have the required organic principle, and if we wash a sheet with the solution of nitrate of silver, and expose it with any body superposed-say a fern-leaf-all the parts which are exposed will blacken, those screened will remain white, and thus there will be produced what is called a negative image. Chloride of silver, obtained by washing the paper, first with a weak solution of common salt and then with nitrate of silver, is a far more sensitive photographic agent, and is now commonly employed. The Calotype process of Mr. Fox Talbot consists in washing paper, first with rodide of potassium, and then with nitrate of silver, by which process is obtained an iodide of silver. The paper should contain nothing but this iodide; therefore all soluble salts are removed by soaking in water. This pale primrose-color paper, which is not sensitive to light, is washed with a peculiar organic salt called gallic acid; and, to increase the instability of the preparation, a little nitrate of silver is added to it, producing what the inventor calls a gallo-nitrate of silver. Here we have a preparation already quick with chemical energy; this is applied to the iodized paper, and the chemical power of the sun, as radiated from external objects, instantly produces a change-that change bearing an exact relation to the intensity of the rays falling upon each portion of the light-created picture. Presently a picture becomes visible, and it is increased in intensity by washing it, in the dark, with a fresh portion of the gallic acid solution. The picture thus obtained is fixed by washing it with a salt, which dissolves the iodide or the chloride of silver, which has not undergone change -the hyposulphite of soda-and subsequently soaking in clean water. The Daguerreotype consists in producing an iodide of silver upon the surface of a polished silver-plate, and receiving the camera image upon this prepared surface. In both of these processes a decomposition of the iodide of silver results; but in Daguerre's process, the image is developed by exposing the plate on which it has been impressed to the vapor of mercury. Mercury combines with metallic silver, but not with the iodide; thus it is deposited over every portion of the plate on which the solar radiations have acted—the thickness of the deposit bearing a strict relation to the intensity of chemical effect produced. This picture is also fixed by the use of the hyposulphite of soda; as, indeed, are nearly all varieties of photographic pictures. By modifications, which cannot be here detailed, these processes have been greatly increased in sensibility; the result which formerly required twenty minutes being now obtained in as many seconds. A process more sensitive than either of those named has extended photography in a most remarkable manner-this is the COLLODION process. Collodion is guncotton dissolved in ether; to this is added some iodide of potassium dissolved in spirits of wine. This iodized collodion is poured over a sheet of glass—the ether evaporating leaves a beautiful film on the surface, which, upon the glass being dipped into a solution of nitrate of silver, becomes exquisitely sensitive. This prepared tablet being placed in the camera receives an image almost instantaneously, which is brought out in full vigor by pouring over it a solution of the proto-sulphate of iron or of pyro-gallic acid. The exquisite perfection of the collodion pictures, dependent upon the rapidity with which the images are impressed, is mainly due to the peculiar conditions of this singular preparation. By a preparation in many respects analogous to the collodion, a degree of sensibility far exceeding anything which the most sanguine photographist dreamed of in his ardent moments has been obtained. A plate prepared with albumen, iodide of iron, and alcohol, and acetic acid, was placed in a dark room of the Royal Institution in a camera obscura; opposite to it, at the proper focal distance, was a wheel, which was made to revolve many hundred times in a second, and this wheel carried a printed bill upon its face. This rapidly-revolving placard was illuminated for a moment by a flash from a Leyden jar. When the prepared plate was examined by means of a developing agent, it was found, that notwithstanding the rapidity with which the image moved over the lens and the transient nature of the light, a picture of the printed bill was clearly formed, with the letters perfect. This was an experiment of Mr. Fox Talbot's, and is perhaps the most remarkable of the many examples of natural magic with which photography has brought us acquainted. It has long been a problem, the solution of which has been anxiously looked for, whether we might hope to obtain pictures in all the beauty of natural color. This has not yet been quite successfully accomplished; but the approaches toward it are so favorable that we may hope, in a few years, to find our photographic pictures colored by the agent which now draws them. That the delicate and fading images of the camera obscura should be permanently secured upon plates of metal and glass, and on paper, was, at one time, beyond the dreams of science. We rejoice in the reality, and nature herself paints for us the portrait of a friend, or those scenes which are endeared to us by the tenderest and most refined associations. We have now the means of obtaining the most truthful representations of the Pyramids and the tombs of Egypt. The Assyrian Excavation Society have realizations from the pencil of the sunbeam of all that remains of the great monarchies of the East. The traveler in Central America has secured, with his camera, pictures of the wonderful works of the Aztecs and the cotemporary races, of whom we know so little, but whose works remain to speak of a savage grandeur and an advanced state of art, rivaling that which we find in the palace of Sardanapalus and the temples of the early Pharaohs. The ethnologist rejoices in his collection of portraits from all parts of the world; in his quiet home he is enabled, by the aid of photography, to study the physiognomies of all the races on the face of the earth. The natural philosopher uses the same art to register for him the variations of atmospheric pressure and of the earth's temperature; more than this, the alterations in the magnetic intensity of this terrestrial globe are now faithfully registered by photography. The microscopist makes the light draw for him the details of organization, which it would be impossible for the human hand to trace. The astronomer places a sensitive tablet in his telescope; and not only does the sun draw his own image, but the milder moon traces out for him her mountains and her valleys, her beetling precipices, like old sea-coasts, and her dreadful volcanic craters, large and deep enough to swallow up all England. What, then, may we not expect from photography, with the advance of science? A few years since it was thought that two or three salts of silver and of gold were the only bodies which underwent any remarkable change when exposed to the action of the solar rays. It is now proved that it is not possible to expose any body, whatsoever may be its character, to the action of sunshine without its undergoing a chemical or a mechanical change. For example, take a plate of glass, of metal, of stone, or a surface of leather, or resin,-in fact, any organic or inorganic body,—and placing a perforated screen above it, expose it for a a short time to solar influence; then treating the plate as we do the Daguerreotype, exposing it to the vapor of mercury,— we shall find a picture of the superposed screen most faithfully made out on the surface; proving thus that it is impossible to expose any substance to sunshine without its undergoing a change; and that constant sunshine would be destructive to the permanence of matter, as now constituted. It has, however, been found that Nature has a beautiful provision for restoring the deranged conditions. During darkness, by the action of some peculiar molecular forces, all bodies possess the power of restoring themselves to the state in which they were previously to the destructive action of the sunshine; and as night and repose are required to restore to the animal and vegetable economy the vital forces which have become exhausted by the labors of the day, and the excitements which depend upon light, so are night and darkness required to insure the permanence of the inorganic masses of the earth's surface. Can there be a more beautiful provision than this? The laws by which the Eternal Creator works are indeed wonderful and grand; the study of creation's mysteries induces a refinement of the mind, and a holy tranquillity of spirit. No one can arise from reading a page of Nature's mighty volume without feeling himself to be "A wiser and a better man." SIR LOG AND HIS COUSIN. WAS sitting by my fireside, one even are brought into such close fellowship, we may as well make acquaintance; and as there is no master ceremonies at I ing in November, dreaming in the twi- hand, and I, as I take it, and the elder, I light; but whether they were sleeping or waking dreams in which I indulged, I shall leave it to those who may read my story to decide, without myself offering any opinion on the subject. A capital fire shone on the hearth, and lit up the walls of the antique library in which I sat, flickering among the carved work of the dark oak ceiling and wainscoting, and occasionally lighting up the lofty ancient mantelpiece, which was decorated with the heraldic devices of the former owners of the hall- men who had ages since moldered in the tomb. The wide, oldfashioned grate contained an abundant supply of fuel, part of it being filled with good Newcastle coal, throwing out plenty of fine rich fatty matter, from which issued at intervals, as from petty volcanoes, jets of gaseous smoke and flame; while in the arms of this mass of fire lay a huge oaken log, inwreathed in its own brilliant flames, emitting from time to time showers of sparks, and as it were sportively darting long tongues of serpent-like blue and amber flame through every possible vent, now withdrawing them for a moment, and then pouring forth a fresh volume with renewed vigor and splendor. As I sat, enjoying the warmth, and dreamily watching these evolutions, I began to trace a sort of understanding between the wood and the coal, as if they were getting into a chat, and by degrees to make out, or fancy that I made out, what they said to each other. How I came to understand the conversation, I cannot exactly explain; but it is no more wonderful that I should do so, than that the vizier in the eastern tale should be able to inform the sultan of the consultations which were taking place among the birds. It may be supposed, if the reader likes, that there is some affinity between me and a log of wood; and really I cannot say but that it may be so-all that I can do is, like a faithful chronicler, to narrate my tale, and leave others to draw their own deductions from it. I will therefore tell what passed that evening, not at my fireside, but in the very heart and depths of my fire. "Well, my boy, how are you to-day?" crackled out the wood; "methinks, as we will just introduce myself to you as a branch of the Oak family-one of a very ancient and distinguished tribe-only some twelve or fourteen generations removed from the first of that noble family who flourished in the days of Adam and Eve, and of unbroken and untarnished descent-a true scion of an ancient stock. And now, my young friend, allow me to crave your name and history?" added Sir Log, in a patronizing manner. A low murmuring sound, followed by a considerable ebullition of smoke and flame, burst from the offended coal. "Boy, indeed! young friend!" and something very like "Upstart mushroom!" fell on my ear, though luckily it did not strike on the auricular cavities of the wood. "I beg your pardon, sir," responded Sir Log, with some warmth, "I meant no offense; but really, as the senior, and with my pedigree, I thought Perhaps you are not aware that I am some four or five hundred years old?" "Senior! pedigree!" broke in the fiery old gentleman; "four or five hundred years old! why, I am more likely four or five hundred thousand years old; and as to pedigree, I am Lord Carbonius, one of old King Coul's family, as it were part and parcel of himself." "O, indeed!" replied Sir Log, reverentially. "I have been used to the society of kings and great men, and know how to reverence them. I grew near a royal residence myself, and often have the kings and queens of England stood and sat under my spreading branches. Some of the greatest men of their day have given me their confidence, and held consultations under my shadow; and royal armies have been mustered, ay, and broken up and defeated, in my sight." "And I grew and flourished ages on ages before that pigmy called manwhether king or boor, prince or peasantwas created, or had a name in the earth! Ages before his race was formed, I lived in majestic grandeur, and formed part of a stately pine, such as earth now knows not either in kind or size. Around me grew interminable forests of trees as splendid as myself, chiefly palms and pines; while club - mosses, horse - tails, |